"Aye, the Archpriesthood, which thou wilt resign for a rich benefice. Let me tell thee—here thou canst not live. They will hate thee, they will not receive the Sacraments from thy hand, they will baptize their children themselves rather than commit them to thee. The word of God, coming from thy lips, will have lost all savor. They will die and be buried on the mountains under cairns, as in the old pagan times, rather than have thee bless their graves. No—this is no place for thee. What the captain has done has driven barbed iron into their souls; they will have none of thee. But I am of the stock of Cunedda—me they will welcome, and I will be the bishop's henchman."
"Pabo here!" exclaimed Cadell, and looked round at Rogier, who had understood nothing that had passed in this brief colloquy, as it had been spoken in Welsh. The man who did understand the tongue was too deeply engrossed in his game to hearken.
"Aye, aye, Pabo is here—he and Morwen. I have just seen them; they came together down the glen, and are in the house of Howel ap John. Be speedy and have them secured, or they may again escape. Pabo is for you—and for him," he pointed to the Norman captain, "for him the comely Morwen, whom he has been looking for. Say, didst thou obtain for me the promise from the bishop?"
"What says this misshapen imp?" asked Rogier.
Then the young man sidled up to him, and, plucking at his sleeve and pointing through the door, said: "Là—Pabo! Morwen, là!"
"By the soul of the Conqueror," exclaimed the Norman, "if that be so, Pabo shall be strung up at the door of his church at daybreak!"
Turning to his men, with his hand he brushed the knucklebones off the board. "Ye shall conclude the game later—we have higher sport in view now."
The men started to their feet with oaths, angry at the interruption, especially he who considered that he had won an advantage over his fellow.
"I would have cornered him in three moves!" he shouted.
"Nay, not thou; I should have taken thy men in leaps!"