Margaret, being restored to her senses, wept tears of joy, and spoke most sweet words, when her lover riding beneath the platform, demanded from her hand the honourable prize.
But a wonder now appeared, which turned all eyes to the spot where Hector lay o’erthrown; for a milk-white palfrey, of the most exquisite form, had galloped into the lists, and drawn him from beneath his charger, which had fallen with him in the violent concussion. His helmet being loosed, he soon partially recovered, and seeing the beautiful animal frisking and curvetting, as though overjoyed at his escape, he led it by the mane to his rival, saying,
“William of Montgomery, I give to thee this palfrey. Present it to thy bride, to whom I now resign all claim, and only request that she will, for my sake, let my favourite bear her to the church, where your union is to be celebrated.”
It was a lovely thing to look upon, and the maiden promised to use no other on that happy day.
The church of Llanberis was, at this time, about a mile from the castle of Dolbadarn, and the road, upon the bridal morning, resembled a mosaic pavement, when viewed from the mountain, it was so thickly studded with the fantastic dresses of the company, spectators, and gay flags and streamers waving in the air. The minstrels struck up their boldest notes of war, or delighted the ears and hearts of the female holiday makers with the soft songs of love. All was mirth, feasting, and jollity, while the air rung with the combined names of Margaret of Dolbadarn and William of Montgomery.
At length, the bridal procession issued forth from the castle gateway; the heralds led, the minstrels followed. Then came comely maidens with baskets of flowers, which they strewed around them, as they passed along. A body of armed knights followed and after them their esquires. Then appeared a troop of dancing girls, adorned with flowers, and clad in purest white; and a second band of minstrels struck their harps before the bridegroom and the happy bride, who rode gaily, side by side. She was dressed in rich attire; jewels glittered upon her robes and in her hair; and she rode upon the beautiful steed presented by March Lyn Mawr. The palfrey seemed proud of its lovely burthen, and gentle as the unwearied lamb. The bridegroom was clad in a light tunic and hose, and peaked boots; a many-coloured plume fluttered in his bonnet, and many sweet words did he whisper in Margaret’s ear. As the assembled multitude shouted their gratulations, he bent even to his saddle bow, to thank them for their courtesy. Young Hector rode upon her left, and he laughed, too, and he bowed low; but in his laugh there was a fiendish sound, and in his bow a scorn. Then followed the Lord of Dolbadarn, his long white locks waving in the summer breeze, surrounded by his relatives and friends. A troop of squires and pages followed, while all the retainers of his noble house brought up the rear.
The bride and bridegroom passed along, and thousands cheered them on their way, with shouts and praises. The sun shone brightly above their heads, and joy was in their hearts. On they went, until a turning in the road brought them at once in sight of the church; but here the palfrey grew restive, and Sir William seized the bridle, thinking to control him. This answered but for a short distance; for they had no sooner reached the gate, over which was carved a cross, than, even while the groom held the stirrup for her to alight, away, away, away flew the palfrey, like a falcon, down the wind. The Lady Margaret was a good horsewoman, but she could not control the enchanted steed. She, however, kept her seat well, and hoped the unruly animal would soon relax his speed.
A hundred horsemen galloped after her, the bridegroom taking the lead, who, being mounted on the swiftest horse, soon left the rest behind, although unable yet to overtake the bride. The palfrey first dashed forward in the direction of Carnaervon, but suddenly turned off to the right, and galloped up the mountain. Hundreds of the peasantry were trampled under foot by the horses of the pursuers; some bruised, some crippled, and some killed, while the old Lord of Dolbadarn wrung his withered hands, and tore his grey locks, in frantic agony. He accused Hector as the author of all this misery, and vented his curses upon him, which the infuriated mob hearing, they seized upon the astonished knight, and almost in an instant tossed him upon their spikes into the air. He fell to the ground again, but not to rise; his plume, besmeared with blood, was scattered in every direction; his body, pierced with twenty wounds, spouted forth blood in fountains; blows fell upon his harness thick as hail; while a ferocious smith, with one stroke of an axe, severed the head from the body, and placing it upon a pike, bore the dripping trophy of vengeance above the applauding and infuriated wretches who had suffered in the tumult.
Those who could govern their horses flew over the broken country in pursuit, while fleeter than a startled hind, the palfrey dashed along—at times abating his swift flight, to give the laggards hope, who furiously spurred their chargers forward
After the knight,
And lady bright.