The last to anticipate it were the soldiery under Rogier, who were quartered in Caio. Notwithstanding imperative orders from the bishop at Llawhaden to return to him, they had remained where they were, and had continued to conduct themselves in the same lawless manner as before. They scoffed at the tameness with which their insolence was endured. "They are Cynwyl conies--des lapins!" they said. "Say 'Whist!' and nothing more is seen of them than their white tails as they scuttle to their burrows." For centuries this had been an oasis of peace, unlapped by the waves of war. The very faculty of resistance was taken out of these men, who could handle a plow or brandish a shepherd's crook, but were frightened at the chime of a bowstring and the flash of a pike. Yet, secretly, arms were being brought into the valley, and were distributed from farm to farm and from cot to cot; and the men whose wives and daughters had been dishonored, whose savings had been carried off, who had themselves been beaten and insulted, whose relatives had been hung as felons, were gripping the swords and handling the lances--eager for the signal that should set them free to fall on their tormentors. And that signal came at last. On Christmas Eve, from the top of Pen-y-ddinas shot up a tongue of flame. At once from every mountain-side answered flashes of fire. There was light before every house, however small. The great basin of Caio was like a reversed dome of heaven studded with stars. "What is the meaning of this?" asked Rogier, issuing from the habitation he had appropriated to himself, and looking round in amazement. "It is the pylgain," replied his man, Pont d'Arche, who knew something of Welsh. "Pylgain! What is that?" "The coming in of Christmas. They salute it with lights and carols and prayers and dances." "Methinks I can hear sounds." "Aye! they are coming to church." "With torches--there are many." "They all come." Then a man came rushing up the hill; he was breathless. On reaching where stood Rogier, he gasped: "They come--a thousand men and all armed." "It is a river of fire." Along the road could be seen a waving line of light, and from all sides, down the mountains ran cascades of light as well. "There is not a man is not armed, and the women each bear a torch; they come with them--to see revenge done on us." Then up came Cadell. He was trembling. "Rogier," he said, "this is no pylgain for us--the whole country is stirring. The whole people is under arms, and swearing to have our blood." "We will show these conies of Cynwyl that we are not afraid of them." "They are no conies now, but lions. Can you stand against a thousand men? And--this is not all, I warrant. The whole of the Towy Valley, and that of the Teify, all Dyfed, maybe all Wales, is up to-night. Can you make your way through?" Rogier uttered a curse. "By the paunch of the Bastard. I relish not running before those conies."