"Bard," I said, "Owen the prince speaks well of you. Is it true
that you would have slain him had you not been stayed on your way?"
"I do not know, Lord," he answered. "When I was with Morfed, needs
must I do his bidding, even against my will. Yet, away from him, I
think that I should not have harmed the prince. I am a Christian
man, for all that you have seen."
"There was somewhat strangely heathenish in what I did see," I
said. "But I suppose that is all done with?"
"I might go across the sea to the British lands in the north or in
the south and learn to attain to druidship," he said. "But I will
not. What I know shall die with me. He who was the next to me
above, even Morfed, is gone, and he who was next below is gone
also. Druid and Ovate both. I am the only one of the old line left,
and I will be the last. Call me Bard no longer, I pray you."
"Well," I said, for there was that in the face of the man which
told me that he was in earnest, "I will believe you, and the more
that Owen trusts you."
I let loose his hands then, and he stretched his cramped arms and
thanked me. I minded well what that feeling was like.
"What would Morfed have done with the prince?" I asked.
"I do not know. I have heard him plan many things. I think that if
he had won him to his thoughts concerning the men of Canterbury he
would have taken him home.
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