At last I remembered what some great Mercian thane had
to pay to Owen some years ago, and I named that sum, which was good
enough for me and Erpwald and Thorgils to share between us.
Thereon his face flushed red, and he scowled fiercely at me.
"What!--Is that the value of a prince of Morganwg? It is ill to
insult a captive."
"Nay, Prince, there is no insult--"
"By St. Petroc, but there is, though! What will the men of
Morganwg--what will the Dyfed men say when they hear that the Saxon
holds one of the line of Arthur at the value of a hundred cows? Ay,
that is how I shall be known henceforth!--Mordred of the cows,
forsooth."
He was working himself up into a rage now, and even Jago from the
corner of the tent where he sat, dejectedly enough, began to smile.
I had spoken of fair coined silver, and I had some trouble myself
in keeping a grave face when this Welsh prince counted the cost of
cattle therein.
"Will you double the sum, Prince?" I asked in all good faith.
"I will pay the ransom that is fitting for a prince of Morganwg to
pay when his foes have the advantage of him. The honour of the
Cymro is concerned."
"Ask him his value," said Jago in Saxon, knowing that Mordred did
not understand that tongue at all. "Never was so good a chance of
selling a man at his own price.
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