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Page 426
Pwyll of Dyfedd, and I am going home to my father, Heffydd the Old."
"What was there in that to laugh about?" the man insisted suspiciously.
Obviously Rhiannon could not admit that her men were amused because she had adapted an old fairy tale to fit her needs. "That I will not tell you," she said with dignity. "It is personal to me, and I love them less for they laugh at my shame."
This answer scarcely satisfied him, but he did not wish to take responsibility for more than telling her firmly not to address her men in their own language again. This Rhiannon readily promised, for the details of the old fairy tale were so well known that she was sure her story and her men's would fit together perfectly. They soon came to the camp where the officer in charge was as puzzled as the patrol leader had been as to what to do with a Welshwoman of good classhe knew well enough what to do with the others.
His first move was to ask whether she knew anyone in the king's entourage who would vouch for her. Naturally enough she denied vehemently that she had any connection of any kind at all with the Saeson or those who loved the Saeson. She reiterated that she was no spy, that the officer should allow her and her men to pass on in peace. Since this was impossible, she was passed up the chain of command, arriving at last in the tent of Baldwin de Guisnes, the castellan of Monmouth keep, and the most important manand best soldierin the camp.
By then it was completely dark. The men were already quieting for the night. About half of them had only reached the camp that morning and had spent the afternoon putting up tents. Those who had come in the day before had either been out on patrol, had been scavenging, or had been collecting and distributing supplies under the eyes of their officers. De Guisnes, however, was not tired. His activities had been confined

 
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