First, that the number of warriors at their disposal, counting those of King Hudibras and those under Gadarn, amounted to a sufficient force wherewith to meet the invaders in open fight; second, that a junction between their forces must be effected that night, for, according to usual custom in such circumstances, the enemy would be pretty sure to attack before daybreak in the morning; and, third, that what was to be done must be set about as soon as darkness favoured their operations.
“You can guide us in the dark, I suppose,” said Gunrig, turning to Beniah.
“Ay, as well almost as in the light,” replied the Hebrew.
“Let the men feed, then, and be ready for the signal to start,” said the chief to his officers, “and see that no louder noise be heard than the crunching of their jaws.”
The night was favourable to their enterprise. The moon was indeed risen, but clouds entirely hid it, yet allowed a soft light to pass through which rendered objects close at hand quite visible. Before midnight they started on the march in profound silence, and, led by Beniah, made a wide détour which brought them to the encampment of Gadarn. As may easily be understood, that chief was well pleased at the turn events had taken, for, to say truth, his little joke of trotting Beniah about the land and keeping him in perplexity, had begun to pall, and he had for some days past been hunting about for a plausible excuse for abandoning the search and going to visit King Hudibras.
His difficulty in this matter was increased by his unwillingness to reveal the true state of matters to Bladud, yet he knew that unless he did so the prince would utterly refuse to abandon the search for Cormac. Another thing that perplexed the chief greatly was—how the Hebrew, knowing Branwen as he did, had failed to recognise her in the lad Cormac, for of course he knew nothing of the promise that held the Hebrew’s lips tied; his daughter—who was as fond of a joke as himself—having taken care not to reveal all the complications that had arisen in regard to herself.
The sudden appearance, therefore, of foes with whom he could fight proved to be a sort of fortunate safety-valve, and, besides, he had the comfort of thinking that he would fight in a good cause, for the region of the Hot Swamp belonged to his friend Hudibras, and this robber Addedomar was a notorious rascal who required extirpating, while the chiefs who had joined him were little better.
The council of war that was hastily called included Bladud, who was sent for, being asleep in his own booth when the party arrived. The council chamber was under an old oak tree.
When Bladud came forward he was suddenly struck motionless and glared as if he had seen a ghost. For the first time in his life he felt an emotion of supernatural fear—for there, in the flesh apparently, stood his friend Dromas.
A smile from the latter reassured him. Leaping forward he seized his friend’s hand, but the impulsive Greek was not to be put off thus. He threw an arm round the prince’s neck and kissed his cheek.