It seemed that while Gerent had forgotten that I was
aught but the son of Owen, who had brought him back, no one else
forgot that I was a Saxon, and that there was more in the
remembrance than should be in these times of peace. I could not
think that this was due to my share in the death of Morgan either,
for it was plain that not one of his friends was about the court.
At last I spoke of this to Howel, and found that he also had seen
somewhat of the kind.
"I know it," he said. "If I am not very much mistaken, and I ought
to know the signs of coming trouble by this time, there is somewhat
brewing in the way of fresh enmity with your folk. It comes from
the priests."
"There are more of the way of thinking of Morfed, therefore," I
answered.
"And if that is so there may be more danger for Owen. It is well
known that he is for peace, and that Gerent will listen to him in
all things."
We talked of that for some time, not being at all easy yet
concerning the matter, after seeing how far some were willing to go
toward removing one who was in their way. I could not stay here
long, nor could Howel, and it was certain that Gerent could not
well guard Owen up to this time.
And at last Howel spoke the best counsel yet, after many plans
turned over between us.
"We will even take him to Dyfed, and nurse him to strength in
Pembroke.
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