He was slightly formed, but exquisitely moulded, and so light was his footstep, that his tread was scarcely heard, so that he obtained the application of the Minstrel Fay.
No one knew his parents, or from whence he came. His dress was of the best though plainest materials of the time; destitute of all the absurdities that marked the costume of the period; and his steed, which brought him to the castle, and bore him away from it again, was of the purest white, and fleeter than any in the baron’s stables.
“Your steed stands in the valley, Minstrel Fay,” said Howel; “descend and vanish on his back, swifter than you came hither, or I shall hurl you from the battlements, and—why!—have I been dreaming!” continued the astonished knight, with an exclamation of disappointment, mingled with fear, as he stood with his arm outstretched and his hand clenched, as though he still retained the minstrel in his hold; instead of whom, it grasped an aspen branch, which, broken by the gripe, he dashed on the ground. Suddenly, an unearthly strain of melody arose from the woody dell, and he distinctly heard the following words:
“One glance from those seraphic eyes,
To light me o’er the plain;
One silver word to cheer my soul,
And I am gone again!”
“What ho!” cried the knight, “Maldor! d’Espard!” Two squires were instantly at his side. “By heaven, witchery is at work, d’Espard! saddle brown Terror. The Minstrel Fay is in the valley, and find him this night I am determined.”
The horse was quickly brought, and, attended by his two followers, he descended the mountain, at a desperate pace, in the direction from whence the sounds proceeded. The whole of that night did he gallop over hills, and through deep glens, in pursuit of Evan; but no trace of him could he find, and at length, wearied and exhausted with fatigue, he returned to Dinas Bran, believing all that he had seen a dream.
At the morning’s meal, he related the story to My Fawny and her father. The venerable lord jested with him upon his sleep-walking, as he termed it, and bade him, “have better thoughts of poor Evan, for,” said he, “our land does not contain a sweeter minstrel, or a finer bard. He is the pride of my hall, and the delight of all my noble friends. The only thing I am inclined to censure him for, is his absence. He must belong to noble blood, for his garb bespeaks him gentle, and his attainments are those of one who has received an education such as few of us can boast.”
“I trust, baron,” said Einion, (a little piqued at this high commendation), “you will allow, he would be loath to enter the lists with me, in mortal encounter; and, for the accomplishments which belong to men of rank, I have laboured to be considered no mean scholar.”
“Why as a knight and bard, I grant you, few can equal Howel ap Einion; at feast and tourney, you ever shine amongst the first of England’s youth,” said the good natured baron; “but, my brave boy, do not dislike poor Howell, because his education has been different from yours.”
“Not I, my lord; I only wish he would not look so meltingly at your daughter.”