The Bishop of Bangor, distressed at the perfidy of the King, in vain pleaded for the liberation of the captives, as did also the unhappy Senena, who went to London to plead her cause in person, but all in vain. As time passed, and Henry showed no inclination to release them, Gruffydd became desperate, and contrived a plan of escape along with his devoted wife, who had obtained a reluctantly granted permission to visit her husband and son in prison. He cut up the tapestry of his chamber, as also his sheets and table-cloths, into strips, which he twisted and plaited into a rope, and one night, by means of this frail cable, attempted to descend from his window, assisted from above by his son Owen, whilst Senena waited below. But the great weight of Gruffydd strained and ravelled out the cable; it broke, and he fell from so great a height that his head, striking the ground, was driven to the chin into his breast, and he was killed on the spot. Owen was thenceforth kept in closer durance than before. The lovely Llyn Cynwch is under the mountains, and reflects Cader Idris on its glassy surface. Nannau, the old residence of the Vaughan family, is near the Precipice Walk, and in the grounds, where now stands a sundial, was formerly the “Spirit’s Blasted Tree,” alluded to in _Marmion_. Nannau was the seat of Howel Sele, a cousin of Glyndwr; he had rendered himself obnoxious to his relative by the zeal with which he had espoused the cause of King Henry IV. The Abbot of Cymmer, desirous of effecting a reconciliation, contrived that the cousins should meet. Howel had the reputation of being an excellent archer, and as he and Glyndwr were walking in the grounds of Nannau the latter pointed out a deer for the purpose of trying his kinsman’s dexterity. Howel bent his bow, adjusted the arrow, but abruptly turned its point on Glyndwr and discharged it at his breast. Happily the latter wore a suit of chain mail under his kirtle, and the purpose of the assassin was foiled. Howel was instantly seized by the followers of his intended victim and thrown into the hollow trunk of an oak that stood by, and was there left to perish. His skeleton was not discovered till forty years later. Glyndwr burnt the house of Nannau, and committed other devastations on the domain of his treacherous relative. [Illustration: CADER IDRIS] The tree fell on the night of July 13th, 1813. Out of it has been fashioned a table now at Hengwrt. Hengwrt is an interesting old house, and stands in woods that are famous among entomologists as the haunt of many rare moths; and the traces of these latter may be noted on the trees, where they have been smeared with ale and sugar; and the lanterns of these eager scientists wander about the shades of the oaks at night like wills-o’-the-wisp.