“And what if we ride forward?” demanded the Constable. “Have we a clearer road on that side?” “Aye, my lord,” returned my father, “once, years agone, I rode through this valley a hawking. There is another gateway, called the Pass of the Eagles, three leagues farther west. It is much broader than the other, and if we hasten, Rhys can scarcely gather a force that can hold it against us. Then beyond is the good wide valley of Owain, adown which, in ten hours hard riding we may gain the Marches once more.” The Lord Constable gazed at the ground before him for a moment. Then he lifted his head and spake so that all around might hear. “My lords: this Welsh freebooter hath shown himself a better general than I. He hath enticed us into this valley, and then hath closed the gate behind us, as one entraps a bear or wolf. The storm, it seems, hath given him respite; he fights in his own land, and doubtless the night hath brought many recruits to his banner. Now ride we on to force this other gateway ere he gather an army that can close that also. Forward, for Saint George.” At the full trot we rode away, and for an hour and more we slackened not our speed. By the sides of the pathway, or crouching under crags on the hillside, we saw at intervals the huts of stones and turf of the Welsh mountain folk; but all stood silent and deserted with never a wisp of smoke from chimney or sight of woman or child. When the sun was an hour high, the valley narrowed again around us; and we came in sight of the Pass of the Eagles. Then indeed we knew that if any of us returned alive from this adventure, ’twould be by the favor of all the Saints and by the utmost might of our arms. For the army of Rhys stood before us, drawn up in twenty ranks across the defile which was there of a furlong’s width. In the front rank stood the spearmen with the butts of their weapons firmly planted in the ground and the points held at the height of a horse’s breast; in the next the King and his sons, the leaders of tribes and all of those who bore the heaviest arms and iron shields; behind them, rank after rank of swordsmen and javelin throwers, and, rearmost, their archers with bows in hand and arrows ready notched. The flanks of the Welsh array were protected by high and rocky slopes where scrubby oaks and thorns found scant foothold amidst the crags and where no horse could tread. On both sides of the valley where it narrowed to the pass were broken cliffs that not a mountain goat could scale. Beyond these lay the heather-covered mountainsides and faraway rocky peaks where already snow had come.