The old woman was delighted. The Roman general was of course a very rich man, and no doubt he would give her a great deal of money for the captive.
'Let us be quick,' she said; 'my prisoner may wake up and go away before we come back.'
The soldiers were astonished at the nimble way in which the old creature skipped over the stones and heather, her little short steps covering the ground as quickly as their long, steady strides. They were almost inclined to think that she must be one of the witches about whom the Britons told such strange stories.
The general was not far away; and soon the old woman's little greedy eyes were looking up into his grave stern face.
'Well, my good woman,' he said, 'who is this prisoner?'
The old woman grinned, showing a few tusklike teeth. 'He is a very great man,' she said, 'and I can only give him up for a large sum of money.'
'Tell me first who he is,' said the general; 'we can talk about the reward afterwards.'
There was no one that the Romans despised so much as a traitor, and the general thought this old woman was the most mean and base person he had ever met.
'The prisoner,' said the woman, with a still wider grin, 'is Caradoc himself. He came to my hut after the battle; and you should have seen how pale and weary he was! He thought I would shelter him, because he is my son-in-law, but after he had fallen asleep I said to myself, "The Romans are good folk, and they will be grateful to an old woman who hands over a wicked rebel——"'
'That will do, my good woman,' said the general, cutting her short. 'Here is a bag of gold; it is your fee for delivering the British leader into our hands. Come and show us where he is to be found; or if you are playing us false it will be the worse for you.'