The Betrothed

Chapter 1

Now in these days were hotte wars upon the Marches of Wales.

LEWIS'S _History._

The Chronicles, from which this narrative is extracted, assure us,

that during the long period when the Welsh princes maintained

their independence, the year 1187 was peculiarly marked as

favourable to peace betwixt them and their warlike neighbours, the

Lords Marchers, who inhabited those formidable castles on the

frontiers of the ancient British, on the ruins of which the

traveller gazes with wonder. This was the time when Baldwin,

Archbishop of Canterbury, accompanied by the learned Giraldus de

Barri, afterwards Bishop of Saint David's, preached the Crusade

from castle to castle, from town to town; awakened the inmost

valleys of his native Cambria with the call to arms for recovery

of the Holy Sepulchre; and, while he deprecated the feuds and wars

of Christian men against each other, held out to the martial

spirit of the age a general object of ambition, and a scene of

adventure, where the favour of Heaven, as well as earthy renown,

was to reward the successful champions.

Yet the British chieftains, among the thousands whom this spirit-

stirring summons called from their native land to a distant and

perilous expedition, had perhaps the best excuse for declining the

summons. The superior skill of the Anglo-Norman knights, who were

engaged in constant inroads on the Welsh frontier, and who were

frequently detaching from it large portions, which they fortified

with castles, thus making good what they had won, was avenged,

indeed, but not compensated, by the furious inroads of the

British, who, like the billows of a retiring tide, rolled on

successively, with noise, fury, and devastation; but, on each

retreat, yielded ground insensibly to their invaders.

A union among the native princes might have opposed a strong and

permanent barrier to the encroachments of the strangers; but they

were, unhappily, as much at discord among themselves as they were

with the Normans, and were constantly engaged in private war with

each other, of which the common enemy had the sole advantage.

The invitation to the Crusade promised something at least of

novelty to a nation peculiarly ardent in their temper; and it was

accepted by many, regardless of the consequences which must ensue,

to the country which they left defenceless. Even the most

celebrated enemies of the Saxon and Norman race laid aside their

enmity against the invaders of their country, to enrol themselves

under the banners of the Crusade.

Amongst these was reckoned Gwenwyn, (or more properly Gwenwynwen,

though we retain the briefer appellative,) a British prince who

continued exercising a precarious sovereignty over such parts of

Powys-Land as had not been subjugated by the Mortimers, Guarines,

Latimers, FitzAlans, and other Norman nobles, who, under various

pretexts, and sometimes contemning all other save the open avowal

of superior force, had severed and appropriated large portions of

that once extensive and independent principality, which, when

Wales was unhappily divided into three parts on the death of

Roderick Mawr, fell to the lot of his youngest son, Mervyn. The

undaunted resolution and stubborn ferocity of Gwenwyn, descendant

of that prince, had long made him beloved among the "Tall men" or

Champions of Wales; and he was enabled, more by the number of

those who served under him, attracted by his reputation, than by

the natural strength of his dilapidated principality, to retaliate

the encroachments of the English by the most wasteful inroads.

Yet even Gwenwyn on the present occasion seemed to forget his

deeply sworn hatred against his dangerous neighbours. The Torch of

Pengwern (for so Gwenwyn was called, from his frequently laying

the province of Shrewsbury in conflagration) seemed at present to

burn as calmly as a taper in the bower of a lady; and the Wolf of

Plinlimmon, another name with which the bards had graced Gwenwyn,

now slumbered as peacefully as the shepherd's dog on the domestic

hearth.

But it was not alone the eloquence of Baldwin or of Girald which

had lulled into peace a spirit so restless and fierce. It is true,

their exhortations had done more towards it than Gwenwyn's

followers had thought possible. The Archbishop had induced the

British Chief to break bread, and to mingle in silvan sports, with

his nearest, and hitherto one of his most determined enemies, the

old Norman warrior Sir Raymond Berenger, who, sometimes beaten,

sometimes victorious, but never subdued, had, in spite of

Gwenwyn's hottest incursions, maintained his Castle of Garde

Doloureuse, upon the marches of Wales; a place strong by nature,

and well fortified by art, which the Welsh prince had found it

impossible to conquer, either by open force or by stratagem, and

which, remaining with a strong garrison in his rear, often checked

his incursions, by rendering his retreat precarious. On this

account, Gwenwyn of Powys-Land had an hundred times vowed the

death of Raymond Berenger, and the demolition of his castle; but

the policy of the sagacious old warrior, and his long experience

in all warlike practice, were such as, with the aid of his more

powerful countrymen, enabled him to defy the attempts of his fiery

neighbour. If there was a man, therefore, throughout England, whom

Gwenwyn hated more than another, it was Raymond Berenger; and yet

the good Archbishop Baldwin could prevail on the Welsh prince to

meet him as a friend and ally in the cause of the Cross. He even

invited Raymond to the autumn festivities of his Welsh palace,

where the old knight, in all honourable courtesy, feasted and

hunted for more than a week in the dominions of his hereditary

foe.

To requite this hospitality, Raymond invited the Prince of Powys,

with a chosen but limited train, during the ensuing Christmas, to

the Garde Doloureuse, which some antiquaries have endeavoured to

identify with the Castle of Colune, on the river of the same name.

But the length of time, and some geographical difficulties, throw

doubts upon this ingenious conjecture.

As the Welshman crossed the drawbridge, he was observed by his

faithful bard to shudder with involuntary emotion; nor did

Cadwallon, experienced as he was in life, and well acquainted with

the character of his master, make any doubt that he was at that

moment strongly urged by the apparent opportunity, to seize upon

the strong fortress which had been so long the object of his

cupidity, even at the expense of violating his good faith.

Dreading lest the struggle of his master's conscience and his

ambition should terminate unfavourably for his fame, the bard

arrested his attention by whispering in their native language,

that "the teeth which bite hardest are those which are out of

sight;" and Gwenwyn looking around him, became aware that, though,

only unarmed squires and pages appeared in the courtyard, yet the

towers and battlements connecting them were garnished with archers

and men-at-arms.

They proceeded to the banquet, at which Gwenwyn, for the first

time, beheld Eveline Berenger, the sole child of the Norman

castellane, the inheritor of his domains and of his supposed

wealth, aged only sixteen, and the most beautiful damsel upon the

Welsh marches. Many a spear had already been shivered in

maintenance of her charms; and the gallant Hugo de Lacy, Constable

of Chester, one of the most redoubted warriors of the time, had

laid at Eveline's feet the prize which his chivalry had gained in

a great tournament held near that ancient town. Gwenwyn considered

these triumphs as so many additional recommendations to Eveline;

her beauty was incontestable, and she was heiress of the fortress

which he so much longed to possess, and which he began now to

think might be acquired by means more smooth than those with which

he was in the use of working out his will.

Again, the hatred which subsisted between the British and their

Saxon and Norman invaders; his long and ill-extinguished feud with

this very Raymond Berenger; a general recollection that alliances

between the Welsh and English had rarely been happy; and a

consciousness that the measure which he meditated would be

unpopular among his followers, and appear a dereliction of the

systematic principles on which he had hitherto acted, restrained

him from speaking his wishes to Raymond or his daughter. The idea

of the rejection of his suit did not for a moment occur to him; he

was convinced he had but to speak his wishes, and that the

daughter of a Norman, castellane, whose rank or power were not of

the highest order among the nobles of the frontiers, must be

delighted and honoured by a proposal for allying his family with

that of the sovereign of a hundred mountains.

There was indeed another objection, which in later times would

have been of considerable weight--Gwenwyn was already married. But

Brengwain was a childless bride; sovereigns (and among sovereigns

the Welsh prince ranked himself) marry for lineage, and the Pope

was not likely to be scrupulous, where the question was to oblige

a prince who had assumed the Cross with such ready zeal, even

although, in fact, his thoughts had been much more on the Garde

Doloureuse than on Jerusalem. In the meanwhile, if Raymond

Berenger (as was suspected) was not liberal enough in his opinions

to permit Eveline to hold the temporary rank of concubine, which

the manners of Wales warranted Gwenwyn to offer as an interim,

arrangement, he had only to wait for a few months, and sue for a

divorce through the Bishop of Saint David's, or some other

intercessor at the Court of Rome.

Agitating these thoughts in his mind, Gwenwyn prolonged his

residence at the Castle of Berenger, from Christmas till

Twelfthday; and endured the presence of the Norman cavaliers who

resorted to Raymond's festal halls, although, regarding

themselves, in virtue of their rank of knighthood, equal to the

most potent sovereigns, they made small account of the long

descent of the Welsh prince, who, in their eyes, was but the chief

of a semibarbarous province; while he, on his part, considered

them little better than a sort of privileged robbers, and with the

utmost difficulty restrained himself from manifesting his open

hatred, when he beheld them careering in the exercises of

chivalry, the habitual use of which rendered them such formidable

enemies to his country. At length, the term of feasting was ended,

and knight and squire departed from the castle, which once more

assumed the aspect of a solitary and guarded frontier fort.

But the Prince of Powys-Land, while pursuing his sports on his own

mountains and valleys, found that even the abundance of the game,

as well as his release from the society of the Norman chivalry,

who affected to treat him as an equal, profited him nothing so

long as the light and beautiful form of Eveline, on her white

palfrey, was banished from the train of sportsmen. In short, he

hesitated no longer, but took into his confidence his chaplain, an

able and sagacious man, whose pride was flattered by his patron's

communication, and who, besides, saw in the proposed scheme some

contingent advantages for himself and his order. By his counsel,

the proceedings for Gwenwyn's divorce were prosecuted under

favourable auspices, and the unfortunate Brengwain was removed to

a nunnery, which perhaps she found a more cheerful habitation than

the lonely retreat in which she had led a neglected life, ever

since Gwenwyn had despaired of her bed being blessed with issue.

Father Einion also dealt with the chiefs and elders of the land,

and represented to them the advantage which in future wars they

were certain to obtain by the possession of the Garde Doloureuse,

which had for more than a century covered and protected a

considerable tract of country, rendered their advance difficult,

and their retreat perilous, and, in a word, prevented their

carrying their incursions as far as the gates of Shrewsbury. As

for the union with the Saxon damsel, the fetters which it was to

form might not (the good father hinted) be found more permanent

than those which had bound Gwenwyn to her predecessor, Brengwain.

These arguments, mingled with others adapted to the views and

wishes of different individuals, were so prevailing, that the

chaplain in the course of a few weeks was able to report to his

princely patron, that this proposed match would meet with no

opposition from the elders and nobles of his dominions. A golden

bracelet, six ounces in weight, was the instant reward of the

priest's dexterity in negotiation, and he was appointed by Gwenwyn

to commit to paper those proposals, which he doubted not were to

throw the Castle of Garde Doloureuse, notwithstanding its

melancholy name, into an ecstasy of joy. With some difficulty the

chaplain prevailed on his patron to say nothing in this letter

upon his temporary plan of concubinage, which he wisely judged

might be considered as an affront both by Eveline and her father.

The matter of the divorce he represented as almost entirely

settled, and wound up his letter with a moral application, in

which were many allusions to Vashti, Esther, and Ahasuerus.

Having despatched this letter by a swift and trusty messenger, the

British prince opened in all solemnity the feast of Easter, which

had come round during the course of these external and internal

negotiations.

Upon the approaching Holy-tide, to propitiate the minds of his

subjects and vassals, they were invited in large numbers to

partake of a princely festivity at Castell-Coch, or the Red-

Castle, as it was then called, since better known by the name of

Powys-Castle, and in latter times the princely seat of the Duke of

Beaufort. The architectural magnificence of this noble residence

is of a much later period than that of Gwenwyn, whose palace, at

the time we speak of, was a low, long-roofed edifice of red stone,

whence the castle derived its name; while a ditch and palisade

were, in addition to the commanding situation, its most important

defences.