
They turned aside from the Conway valley at Llanrwst, climbing away from theriver into forested hill country. Beyond the watershed they crossed the Elwywhere it is young and small, and moved steadily south-eastwards through thickwoods, over another ridge of high land, to descend once again into the uplandvalley of a little river, that provided some marshy water-meadows along itsbanks, and a narrow band of tilled fields, sloping and sturdy but protected bythe forests, above these lush pastures. The wooded ridge on either hand ran inoblique folds, richly green, hiding the scattered housesteads. The fields werealready planted, and here and there orchards flowered. Below them, where thewoods drew back to leave an amphitheatre of green, there was a small stonechurch, whitewashed and shimmering, and a little wooden house beside it.
“You see the goal of your pilgrimage,” said the chaplain Urien.He was a compact, neat, well-shaven personage, handsomely dressed and mounted,more of an ambassador than a clerk.
“That is Gwytherin?” asked Prior Robert.
“It is the church and priest’s house of Gwytherin. The parishstretches for several miles along the river valley, and a mile or more from theCledwen on either bank. We do not congregate in villages as you English do.Land good for hunting is plentiful, but good for tillage meagre. Every manlives where best suits him for working his fields and conserving hisgame.”
