The Bishop of S. Asaph appealed to Parliament against this injustice, but in vain; and he warned it against the imprudence of exasperating an honourable and loyal man of extended influence, and driving him into rebellion to maintain his just rights. But the Lords scoffingly replied that “they had no fear of that pack of rascally, bare-footed scrubs.”
De Grey surrounded Owen’s house, but failed to capture him. He had attempted a most treacherous plan. He sent to Owen to offer to dine with him and talk over matters for a reconciliation. Owen consented on condition that De Grey came with only thirty followers, and these unarmed. De Grey accepted the terms, but ordered a large force to approach and surround the house while he was within. Glyndwr, however, knew his man, and he had set his bard Iolo Goch to watch. Iolo saw the approach of men-at-arms, so entering the hall he struck his harp and sang:—
“Think of Lleweni’s chief, no slight
A murder on a Christmas night.
The blazing wrath of Shrewsbury keep,
The burning head’s avenging heap.”
Owen took the hint; he escaped.
Owen now proclaimed himself Prince of Wales, and called on all true-hearted Welshmen to rally to his standard. His first exploit was the capture of Ruthin in September, 1400. His men had concealed themselves in the thickets of Coed Marchan, near the town, and when the gates were thrown open for a fair, some made their way within disguised as peasants, and kept the gates open for their confederates. Glyndwr’s men rushed in, fired the town in four places, and slaughtered every Englishman they met. Then, laden with booty, they retreated to the mountains. Lord de Grey collected a force and marched against Glyndwr, but fell into an ambush, and was taken and carried off to the wilds of Snowdon, where Owen, before he would let him depart, forced him to marry his daughter Jane and to pay for his ransom 10,000 marks, which compelled him to sell his manor of Hadleigh, in Kent.
It was in consequence of Glyndwr’s insurrection that the parliament of 1401 passed a series of the most oppressive and cruel ordinances ever enacted against any people—prohibiting the Welsh from acquiring lands by purchase, from holding any corporate offices, from bearing arms in any town; ordering that in lawsuits between an Englishman and Welshman, the former could only be convicted by English juries; disfranchising every English citizen who should marry a Welshwoman, and forbidding Welshmen to bring up their children to any liberal art, or apprentice them to any trade in any town or borough of the realm.
The barony of Grey de Ruthin was made out by patent to Reginald and to his heirs, without specifying that these should be males; it is therefore one of the few that devolve through heiresses.
In S. Peter’s Square is the picturesque timber and plaster house in which was born Gabriel Goodman, Dean of Westminster for nearly the whole of Elizabeth’s reign, and one of Bishop Morgan’s helpers in the translation of the Bible into Welsh. In front of it, built into the platform, is the Maen Huail. On this stone, according to tradition, King Arthur cut off the head of Huail, brother of Gildas. He was a quarrelsome, turbulent man, who, instead of serving against the Saxons, was engaged in broils against King Arthur. But his death was due to another cause.
Huail was imprudent enough to court a lady of whom Arthur was enamoured. The king’s suspicions were aroused and his jealousy excited; he armed himself secretly, and intercepted Huail on his way to the lady’s house. Some angry words passed between them, and they fought. After a sharp combat Huail wounded Arthur in the thigh, whereupon the contest ceased, and reconciliation was made on the condition that Huail should never reproach Arthur with the advantage he had obtained over him. Arthur returned to his palace at Caerwys, in Flintshire, to be cured of his wound. He recovered, but it caused him to limp slightly ever after. A short time after his recovery Arthur fell in love with a lady at Ruthin, and in order to enjoy her society disguised himself in female attire, and so got among her companions. One day when this lady and her maids and the disguised Arthur were dancing together, Huail saw him. He recognised him at once, and with a sneer on his lips said “the dancing might pass muster but for the stiff thigh.” Arthur overheard the remark, and exasperated at the allusion, and at having been detected in such an undignified disguise, withdrew from the dance, and after having assumed his royal robes, summoned Huail before him, and ordered his head to be struck off in the midst of Ruthin, on the stone that now bears his name.