"Is this house your own?"
"Oh no! I pay rent for it, and not a cheap one."
"Have you a husband?
"I had, but he is dead."
"Have you any children?"
"I had three, but they are dead too, and buried with my husband at
the monastery."
"Where is the monastery?"
"A good way farther on, at the strath beyond Rhyd Fendigaid."
"What is the name of the little river by the house?"
"Avon Marchnad (Market River)."
"Why is it called Avon Marchnad?"
"Truly, gentleman, I cannot tell you."
I went on sipping my ale and finding fault with its bitterness till
I had finished it, when getting up I gave the old lady her groat,
bade her farewell, and departed.
CHAPTER XCI
Pont y Rhyd Fendigaid - Strata Florida - The Yew-Tree - Idolatry -
The Teivi - The Llostlydan.
AND now for the resting-place of Dafydd Ab Gwilym! After wandering
for some miles towards the south over a bleak moory country I came
to a place called Fair Rhos, a miserable village, consisting of a
few half-ruined cottages, situated on the top of a hill. From the
hill I looked down on a wide valley of a russet colour, along which
a river ran towards the south. The whole scene was cheerless.
Sullen hills were all around. Descending the hill I entered a
large village divided into two by the river, which here runs from
east to west, but presently makes a turn.
