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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"

Lately there had come a new hope
into my life, and it was one that was far from me at that time. But
now, when the time came for me to go to Dyfed for Owen, I should go
with power to choose lands and a home for myself and for that one
whom I dared now to ask to share it. And that was the only reason
that I cared to think of the new riches at all. If that hope came
to naught I should certainly care for them or need them little
enough, for my home would be the court as ever.
Better to me than the gold was a letter from Owen. The honest
Norseman had gone out of his way to put in at Tenby, knowing that I
should be glad to have news thence, and not troubling about Mordred
who was waiting release, at all. So he had seen Owen, who was well
as might be, he said.
"With two holes in one thigh, and his left arm almost growing again
like a crab's claw. I do not think that he was in the least
surprised to hear of the war, nor indeed of its end. All he wanted
to know was of you, as it seemed, at least from me. So it was also
with Howel and the princess. It was good to see their faces when I
told them of the fight at the camp, and how you won glory there.
Nevertheless, I was half afraid that I made the fighting a bit too
fierce over Erpwald, for the princess turned pale enough in hearing
how you were knocked over.


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