"Llyn Gethin! a word in your ear before we ride on."
It was Tad who spoke to the old Cadwallader out in the moonlight. Llyn had answered Daurn's urgent message for peace, and a few miles north of Llangarth had met Tad. At the words the old man looked at him curiously, but reined his horse in, while his sons watched the pair suspiciously, for they were young, their blood and their hate still ran hotly, and save for their father would have had none of this death-bed reconciliation.
"Well, lad, what is it?" asked Llyn, when they were out of earshot.
"A word of warning, sir—from one who hates you."
"Ah! You were ever a good hater, boy. What is it?"
"'Tis a trick o 'mine, sir—this visit—and you'd better ride back."
"I think not, Tad."
"Well, have your way, but if you ride with me you ride to hell."
"We ride with you, Tad."
"Your blood be on you and your sons, then, Llyn Gethin. You're safe to the stone bridge; after that fend for yourself. I—I'm a cursed traitor, but, by David, I strike with my house. There, I've warned you, and God forgive me."