I thought him a wonderful looking old man, and most kingly, as he rose and bowed in return when we greeted him.
His hair was white, and his long beard even whiter, but his eyes were bright.

Purple and gold he wore, and those robes and the golden circlet on his head shewed that he had put on the kingly dress to meet with the messenger of a king.
Almost had Owen sprung toward him, but he forbore, and when the king had taken his seat he went slowly to him, holding out a letter which Ina had written for him, saying nothing.

And Gerent took it without a word or so much as a glance at the bearer from under his heavy brows, and opened it.
Owen stood back by me, and we watched the face of the king as he read.

We saw his brows knit themselves fiercely at first, and then as he went on they cleared until he seemed as calm as when he first met us.

But the flush that had come with the frown had not faded when at last he looked keenly at us.
"Come nearer," he said in a harsh voice, speaking in fair Saxon.
"Know you what is written herein ?" "I know it," Owen said.
"Here Ina says that this is borne by one whom I know.