"Llyn Gethin! a word in your ear before we ride on."
It was Tad who spoke to the old Cadwallader out in the moonlight. Llyn had answered Daurn's urgent message for peace, and a few miles north of Llangarth had met Tad. At the words the old man looked at him curiously, but reined his horse in, while his sons watched the pair suspiciously, for they were young, their blood and their hate still ran hotly, and save for their father would have had none of this death-bed reconciliation.
"Well, lad, what is it?" asked Llyn, when they were out of earshot.
"A word of warning, sir--from one who hates you."
"Ah! You were ever a good hater, boy. What is it?"
"'Tis a trick o 'mine, sir--this visit--and you'd better ride back."
"Well, have your way, but if you ride with me you ride to hell."
"Your blood be on you and your sons, then, Llyn Gethin. You're safe to the stone bridge; after that fend for yourself. I--I'm a cursed traitor, but, by David, I strike with my house. There, I've warned you, and God forgive me."
"Amen, lad! Will you shake hands before we ride?"
"No, choke me! I'd sooner ding my dagger in your neck."
So they rejoined the waiting group and rode forward, Tad moodily in advance, Llyn and his sons in a whispering bunch some yards behind. It had been Tad's own suggestion that he ride forward and meet the Gethins so they might be lured the more easily to the turn beyond the bridge. Now they followed on till they saw the white masonry gleaming in the moonlight, and then the dark form of Tad's horse crossing it, when there was a halt and a grim tightening of belts and loosening of swords. And as the man on the bridge threw up his arm, Llyn answered the sign hoarsely: "God keep thee, son of Gruffydd!" he cried. Then as his sons closed in he turned on them sternly: "Remember, lads! who touches him touches me. Ah! steady now! Forward!"
Even as they clattered on the bridge Tad's challenge and signal to his kinsmen rang out furiously:
Then came a rush of horse and steel and wild-eyed men, which but for their preparation would have swept the Gethins down. As it was they met it fiercely as it came. They had not come unarmed--perhaps wise old Llyn distrusted such late penitence even as did his sons. Be that as it may, the cry of "Cadwallader!" rose against "The Wolf!" and bore it back, for even in the first wild rush, Cedric fell away before a long, swift thrust, and a moment later Rhys, the youngest of the house went down and died beneath the stamping iron hoofs.