THE PRINCESS.
So I was left with Morfed the priest, and he did not offer to
follow his men, but stood and faced me with eyes that gleamed with
the fire of wrath or madness, or both. We waited, both of us, as I
think, to hear if any sound beyond the lessening footfalls came
from the water course, but they died away upward, and there was
still no word between us. Then I thought that I would try one more
plan with him.
"Morfed," I said, "take me to Owen, and I will pledge my word that
Gerent shall seek no revenge for what has been done by you."
"What I have done!" he broke out. "I sought to rid the land of a
foe, and that was a deed worth doing. Know you what you have
done?--Through you is ended the tale of many a thousand years. The
time is past when I, the priest and Archdruid of this poor land,
should have done what has been done, since time untold, without
fail, against tomorrow's rites. That day, therefore, through you
shall be unobserved. It is strange that a mere Saxon warrior, with
no thought beyond his feasting and fighting, should set his will
against mine and prove the stronger. Now I wit well that this is
some fated day, and that herein lies some omen of what shall be."
Then he turned a little from me, and looked at the shadow which had
passed altogether from the altar stone now, and half to himself he
said:
"I had thought that this menhir had fallen when this came to pass.
But maybe the old prophecy meant that not until it fell we must
cease our rites. But that was not how we read the words of old
time. If we read them wrong, what else have we mistaken?"
"Morfed," I broke in on his musings, "end this idle talk, and tell
me of Owen. Then I will go hence and leave you to work what you
will here. I had no wish to disturb your rites, whatsoever they
were. If aught has happened amiss, it was your own fault, not mine.
Your own deed brought me here."
But he paid not the least heed to me, and yet I thought that he
tried to put me off, as it were, by seeming wrapt in thoughts.
"Surely it should have fallen on this day that sees the end, even
as runs the ancient prophecy--'When the pool shall whelm the stone,
Druid rite and chant are done.' But it has not fallen, and the end
is not yet. But what shall amend this fault?"
I had listened for some sound from Howel and Evan, but since the
footsteps passed up the glen I had heard none until this moment.
Then came one cry from far upward, and silence thereafter. Morfed
heard it and looked up, setting at the same time his hand on the
edge of the altar stone.
The golden sickle flashed as he did so, and at that, swift as the
flash itself, the adder stiffened its coils, and its head flew
back, baring the long fangs, and twice it struck the hand deeply.
"I am answered," Morfed said quietly. "My life shall amend."
But he never moved his hand, and the adder swiftly slid from off
the stone and sought some hiding place in the loose rocks at the
cliff foot, and the priest watched it go, motionless.
"Look you, Saxon," he said, lifting his eyes to me; "now I must
die, and with me ends the line of the Druids of this land of the
olden faith. Yonder in the Cymric land beyond the narrow sea whence
Howel came it shall not be lost. The hills shall keep it, and there
the slow mind of the Saxon shall not slay the old powers as you
have slain them in me. Now I know that nought but the power of the
cross shall avail on such minds as yours, for the lore of the older
days is not for you. See! This is an end, and now you in your
simpleness shall do one last thing for me."
I saw that the hand which yet rested on the altar was swelling
already, and was waxing fiery red with four black marks where the
fangs struck it. And I had a sort of pity for him, seeing him bear
this, which he deemed his punishment, bravely. Still, he had
answered nothing as to where Owen was.
"Morfed," I said, therefore--"if it is indeed the last hour for
you, make amends for another ill by telling me where Owen is, and I
will do what you ask me, if it is what I may do honestly and as a
Christian."
"Grave me a cross on yonder menhir in token that the days of the
Druid are numbered," he said softly, sitting down on the stone with
his head bowed, as if in deadly faintness.
Two steps took me to the menhir, and I drew my seax that I might do
as he asked me. It was a little thing, and Christian, and I thought
that maybe he had come to himself from the madness of which men
spoke. Yet though it seemed long that Howel was away, and I longed
to follow him, I dared not leave this man, seeing that for all I
knew Owen was somewhere close at hand, and it was not to be known
what this priest might do in his despair. Howel and Evan might be
following the men yet into some hiding place.
I set the point of my weapon to the stone and went to work, graving
the upright stem of the cross first, thinking that Morfed would
speak when he saw that I was indeed doing as he asked me. The stone
was softer than I expected, and surely was not of the granite of
the cliffs around, but had been brought from far, else I could not
have marked it at all. Yet I had to lean heavily on my seax as I
cut, and it was no light task, as I stood sidewise that I might not
lose sight of Morfed.
"I die," he said presently. "There will be none left who may bring
back the ancient secrets hither from the land of the Cymro. See,
this is an end."
He rose up, staggering a little, and cast the golden sickle from
him into the pool with a light eddying splash, as if it skimmed the
surface ere it sank, but I did not look at it, and that was well
for me. I saw his hand fly to his breast, as the hands of his men
had gone for their weapons when they first saw us, and I knew what
was coming.
Hardly had the golden toy touched the water when out flashed a long
dagger from his robes, and he flew on me, thinking, no doubt, that
I must needs turn my head to watch the fall of his sickle, and I
was ready for him. He was no warrior, and his hand was too high,
but he was a priest, and on him I would not use my weapon. I swung
aside from him, striking up his arm, and his blind rush carried him
against the menhir, so that the blow which was meant for me fell
thereon, scoring the stone deeply; and lo! his own hand ended with
that blow what I had begun, marking the cross-beam I had yet to
make, so that the holy sign was complete.
And I saw that in a flash, even as he reeled back from the menhir
and staggered. His foot splashed into the ooze of the bank and went
down; and with that he lost his footing altogether and fell
headlong into the pool, swaying as he went, across the front of the
menhir.
Now there was a shout and the sound of hurrying footsteps behind
me, but it was Howel's voice, and I did not turn. I leaned on the
menhir to try to catch the white robes that swirled below me, and
then I felt a heave and quaking in the turf on which I knelt as I
reached over the black water, and Howel cried out and dragged me
back roughly for a long fathom.
The menhir was falling. Slowly at first, and then more swiftly, it
bent forward over the pool, and then it gathered way suddenly, and
with a mighty crash it fell with all its towering height across
it--and across the last flash of the white robes of the man who yet
struggled therein.
For a moment the cross looked skyward, and then the wave swept over
the stone, and it was gone into the unknown depths that maybe held
so many secrets of the strange rites of those who had reared it.
Only where its foot had been planted was a pit to shew that
somewhat had been there, and that was slowly filling with the black
bog which had undermined the stone at last. The old prophecy had
come to pass, and there was indeed an end.
But I saw for a moment into that pit before it was filled, and in
it was laid open as it were a great stone chest, where the base of
the menhir had been to cover it, and in that were skulls and bones
of men, and among them the dull gleam of ancient gold and flint.
The wild tumult of the water died away, and the ripples came, and
then the pool was glassy as before, but there was no sign of
movement in it, and now it was clear no longer. And still Howel and
I stared silently at that place whence the great stone had passed
like a dream.
"Nona saw it troubled," Howel said at last.
But I answered what was in my mind, with a sort of despair:
"He never told me where Owen lies."
"But I think we have found him, or nearly," Howel answered. "Come
with me. This is no place for us to bide in. Did you hear those
voices?"
I had heard the echoes from the rocks after the great crash, and
they were strange and wild enough, but I heard nothing more.
"I heard one shout some time since," I said, rising up from where I
still sat as Howel had left me.
"Nay, but the wailing when the stone fell," he said. "Wailing from
all around. Wailing as of the lost. Come hence, Oswald."
I do not know if the man of the more ancient race heard more than
I, mingled with those wild echoes, but I know that Howel the prince
feared little. Now he was afraid, even in the bright sunlight, and
owned it.
But the first shock had passed from me, and I looked for our
horses. They had gone. I think that the fall of the menhir scared
them, for they were yet tied where Evan left them, just before
that.
"Howel, the horses have broken loose and gone," I cried.
"Let them be," he said; "they will but go to the men down the
valley, and will be caught there. Come, we must get hence."
He fairly dragged me with him towards the glen, and it was not
until we were out of the circle of cliffs round the pool and
picking our way among the boulders of the water course, that he
spoke again.
"That is better," he said,--"one can breathe here. I do not care if
I never set eyes on that place again, and indeed I hope we need
not. Now we have to find Owen as quickly as we may."
"What of the two men?"
"One turned on us, and we slew him perforce. The other Evan has
tied up safely, though it took us all our time to catch him. I left
Evan trying to make him speak."
I wondered in what way he was trying, but the path grew steeper and
steeper, and the plash of water falling among the stones made it
hard to hear. We went on and on, ever upward, until the walls of
the narrow glen widened, and at last we were on a barren hillside,
across which the little stream found its way in a belt of green
grass and fern and bog from farther heights yet, and there I looked
for Evan. The path reappeared here again, and it went slanting
across the hill and over its shoulder, hardly more than a sheep
track as it was. And here lay the body of the slain man.
"Over the hill crest," Howel said, noting my look around. "The man
ran across this track. Did you hear what Morfed said to them?"
"No, I heard him call, of course, but his tongue is unknown to me."
"It was the ancient British, I think. I heard a word or two here
and there, but few of those we use yet. I heard more that are
written in our oldest writings, and few enough of them. But what he
said to his men was plain enough, happily. He bade them kill the
captive to amend the wrong done. I do not know what the wrong was."
I knew then that Owen had had a narrow escape, and but for the
fleetness of foot of Evan he would surely have been slain. I told
Howel of what had passed while he was absent, and so we came to the
hilltop, and I saw a little below me the white robes of the
captive, and Evan sitting by him, resting on his spear. He rose up
as we came to him.
"Has he spoken, Evan?" I said.
"Ay, Master," he answered, with a grin that minded me of other days
with him. "He says he will take us to the place where Owen lies, if
we will promise to spare his life."
"We will promise that," I answered. "We will let him go his own way
after we have seen all that we need."
"Let me rise, then," the man said quietly. "I will shew you all."
"Do not untie his hands, Evan, but let him walk," I said. "He is
not to be trusted, if he is like his master."
It was the elder of the two whom we had before us, and he seemed
downcast and harmless enough as we let him rise, though he was
unhurt. He had run on while the younger turned to stay the
pursuers, but Evan had caught him. He led us along the path, which
I suppose his own feet and those of Morfed had worn, unless it was
old as the menhir itself, and on the way he said suddenly:
"Let me ask one thing of you. Has the menhir fallen?"
"Ay, with the cross graven on it," I answered; and my words checked
a laugh that was on Evan's lips.
"I knew it. I heard the crash," the man said. "That is an end
therefore."
But Howel told the whole story as he had seen it take place, from
the time when Morfed flew at me, to the time when the waters were
still again; and as he heard, the man clenched his hands and bowed
his head and went on quickly, as if that would prevent his hearing.
After that he said nothing.
Then the path took us round the shoulder of a hill, and before us
was a rocky platform on the sunward slope which went steeply down
to another brook far below us. Far and wide from that platform one
could see over the heads of three streams, and across three hill
peaks that were right before us, and at the back of the level place
was a great cromlech made of one vast flat stone reared on three
others that were set in a triangle to uphold it. Seven good feet
from the ground its top was, and each of the three supporting
stones was some twelve feet long, so that it was like a house for
space within, and the two foremost stones were apart as a doorway.
And again beyond the cromlech was a hut, shaped like a beehive of
straw, built of many stones most wonderfully, both walls and roof.
There were things about this hut that seemed to tell that it was in
use, and even as our footsteps rang on the rocky platform, out of
its low doorway crept an ancient woman and stared at us wildly.
"What is this?" she screamed. "How should these unhallowed ones
come hither?"
"Silence, mother," our captive said. "All is done, and these men
come to take away the prince."
Then she saw that he was bound with Evan's belt, and at that she
screamed again, and a wild look came into her face, and with a
bound that was wonderful in one so old and bent she fled to the
cromlech, and climbed up the rearward stone in some way, perching
herself on the flat top, whence she glared at us.
"We will not harm you, mother," I said, seeing her terror.
And even as I spoke, from within the stone walls of the cromlech
came the voice that I longed to hear again, weak, indeed, but yet
that of Owen:
"Oswald, Oswald!"
Then I paid no more heed to the hag, but ran into the dark place,
and there indeed was my foster father, swathed in bandages, and
lying white and helpless on a rough couch, but yet with a bright
smile and greeting for me, and I went on my knees at his side and
answered him.
I will not say more of that meeting. Outside the old woman cursed
and reviled Howel and Evan and the captive in turns unceasingly;
but I heeded her no more than one heeds a starling chattering on
the roof in the early morning. I had all that I sought, and aught
else was as nothing to me.
After a little while Howel's face came into the doorway, and Owen
called him in. I saw the look of the prince change as he marked the
many swathings that told of Owen's sore hurts.
"Nay, but trouble not," Owen said, seeing this. "I am cut about a
bit, for certain, but not so badly that I may not be about again
soon. The old lady overhead has a shrewd tongue, but she is a
marvellous good leech. I have not fared so badly here, and I knew
Oswald would not rest until he found me."
"Now we must take you hence," I said. "Our men wait, and we can no
doubt get them here."
He smiled, being tired with the joy of seeing us and the speaking,
and I went out to Evan. The old woman still sat on the cromlech,
and when she saw me her voice rose afresh with more hard words,
which I would not notice.
"Evan," I said, "how shall we take the prince hence?"
"The litter they brought him on stands behind the hut yonder," he
answered; "for this man tells me so. Also he says that we are not
half a mile from our men, and that we can see one from just above
here."
So I sent him to bring them, telling him how the horses were gone,
so that we had no need to go back into the valley. To tell the
truth, I was as much relieved in my mind that we need not do so as
it was plain that he was. Then when he was gone I went back to
Owen, and he asked me if we had seen Morfed. I did not tell him
more than that we had done so, but that he was not here, one of his
two men having guided us, for the tale we must tell him by and by
might be better untold as yet.
"It does not matter," he said. "I cannot understand the man. At one
time I think that he was at the bottom of all the trouble, and at
another that he rescued me from the men who fell on the house. I
have seen little of him here until yesterday and today. There is a
man whom he calls 'the Bard,' who has tended me well enough with
the old dame, and another whom he names 'the Ovate,' whom I have
seen now and then--a younger man. I have set eyes on none but these
four since the men of the burning left me to them in the hills."
We asked him how all that went, and he told us what he could
remember. He had waked from some sort of a swoon while he was being
carried, in the midst of many men, and again had come to himself
when his litter had been set down. At that time there was seemingly
a quarrel between Morfed and his two followers and these men, and
it ended by the many departing and leaving him to the priest. That
was, as I knew, when the hillmen would not come into the lost
valley.
"They set my sword beside me," he said. "Presently in the dark I
saw the gleam of a pool, and I made shift to throw it into the
water, so that no outlaw or Morgan's man should boast that he wore
it. Ina gave it me. One of the men saw me throw it, and was for
staying, but the other said he had heard the splash and that it was
gone. Morfed was not near at the time, having gone on. I heard him
singing somewhere beyond the water."
"I have found it, father," I said. "It was on the edge of the pool,
in long grass, and it helped us somewhat, for we knew you were
near. Now say if it is well to move you yet. We can bide here with
the men if not."
He laughed a little.
"I think so, but that is a question for the leech. Ask the dame.
Maybe she will answer if you speak her fair."
Howel went to do that, saying that maybe she would listen to a
Briton, for most of her wrath was concerning my Saxon arms. So
presently I heard her shrill voice growing calmer as Howel coaxed
her, and then there was a sound as if she climbed from her perch,
and Howel came back to us.
"We may take you, she says. Hither come the men in all haste also,
and we may get away from this place at once. These hills are
uncanny on Midsummer Eve, and I am glad that we have long daylight
before us."
Then said Owen:
"Oswald, I have not withal, but I would fain reward the bard and
the old woman for their care of me. I think that even at
Glastonbury there are none who would have healed these hurts of
mine more easily than she."
I had my own thoughts about the bard, but I said that I would see
to this, and went to him. The men were close at hand, and I saw
that they led our horses with them.
"Bard," I said, "Owen the prince speaks well of you. Is it true
that you would have slain him had you not been stayed on your way?"
"I do not know, Lord," he answered. "When I was with Morfed, needs
must I do his bidding, even against my will. Yet, away from him, I
think that I should not have harmed the prince. I am a Christian
man, for all that you have seen."
"There was somewhat strangely heathenish in what I did see," I
said. "But I suppose that is all done with?"
"I might go across the sea to the British lands in the north or in
the south and learn to attain to druidship," he said. "But I will
not. What I know shall die with me. He who was the next to me
above, even Morfed, is gone, and he who was next below is gone
also. Druid and Ovate both. I am the only one of the old line left,
and I will be the last. Call me Bard no longer, I pray you."
"Well," I said, for there was that in the face of the man which
told me that he was in earnest, "I will believe you, and the more
that Owen trusts you."
I let loose his hands then, and he stretched his cramped arms and
thanked me. I minded well what that feeling was like.
"What would Morfed have done with the prince?" I asked.
"I do not know. I have heard him plan many things. I think that if
he had won him to his thoughts concerning the men of Canterbury he
would have taken him home. If not, I only know this, that he would
never have been seen in this land again. There was a thought of
carrying him even across the sea to the Britons in the south--in
Gaul. But of all things Morfed hoped that he would die here."
So I supposed, but I said no more, for Evan and the men reined up
close to us. There was joy enough among them all as Owen was slowly
and carefully laid on the rough litter. And we left those two
staring after us, silent. But I suppose that the terror of that
strange place will still lie on all the countryside, and I hold
that since the day when the wizards of old time reared the menhir
on that which it covered, with cruel rites and terrible words that
have bided in the minds of men as a terror will bide, no man but
such as Morfed has dared to pry into that valley lest the ancient
curse should fall on them--the curse of the Druid who would hide
his secrets. It may be, therefore, that it will not be known by the
folk that the menhir has fallen, even yet, for we who did know it
told them nought thereof.
As for that falling, it is the saying of Howel that it was wrought
by the might of the holy sign, and maybe he is not so far wrong in
a way. For if the slow creeping of the bog had at last undermined
the base of the tall stone so that it needed but little to disturb
its balance, no wind could reach it in that cliff-walled place even
in the wildest gale, and it is likely that no hand but mine had
touched it for long ages. I began, and the rush and blow of Morfed
ended, the work of overthrow, with the sign of might complete. And
Evan holds that but for the graving thereof he at least were by
this time a dead man.
It was late evening when we came to the village, with no harm to
Owen at all beyond tiredness, which a good sleep would amend; and
after that there is little that I need tell of Howel's going to
Exeter with the good news, and of his bringing back to us a litter
more fitted for the carrying of the hurt prince, and then the
welcome that was for us from Gerent.
When we were back with him, Owen passed into the loving hands of
Nona the princess, and I do not think that he had any cause to
regret his older leech of the beehive hut, skilful as she was, for
we who loved him saw him gain strength daily.
Now I found means to send a letter to Ina, by the tin traders who
were on the way to London, telling him that all was well, and
begging him to suffer me to bide with my foster father for a time
yet, as I knew indeed that I might, for my new place in the
household had few duties save at times of ceremony, and in war,
when I must lead the men of the household as the bearer of the
king's own banner. And as the days went on it grew plain to me that
there was somewhat amiss about the court here.
There was no dislike of myself, as I may truly say, among the men
of West Wales whom I met with, but there was a coldness now and
then which I could not altogether fathom, and that specially among
the priests. It seemed that while Gerent had forgotten that I was
aught but the son of Owen, who had brought him back, no one else
forgot that I was a Saxon, and that there was more in the
remembrance than should be in these times of peace. I could not
think that this was due to my share in the death of Morgan either,
for it was plain that not one of his friends was about the court.
At last I spoke of this to Howel, and found that he also had seen
somewhat of the kind.
"I know it," he said. "If I am not very much mistaken, and I ought
to know the signs of coming trouble by this time, there is somewhat
brewing in the way of fresh enmity with your folk. It comes from
the priests."
"There are more of the way of thinking of Morfed, therefore," I
answered.
"And if that is so there may be more danger for Owen. It is well
known that he is for peace, and that Gerent will listen to him in
all things."
We talked of that for some time, not being at all easy yet
concerning the matter, after seeing how far some were willing to go
toward removing one who was in their way. I could not stay here
long, nor could Howel, and it was certain that Gerent could not
well guard Owen up to this time.
And at last Howel spoke the best counsel yet, after many plans
turned over between us.
"We will even take him to Dyfed, and nurse him to strength in
Pembroke. Then if aught is in the wind it will break out at once,
lest he should return and spoil all. Gerent will either have to bow
to the storm and fight, or else he will get the upper hand and
quiet things again. If he can do that last, at least till Owen is
back, all will be well. Owen will take things in hand then, and
will be master."
That was indeed a way out of the trouble, and therein Nona helped
us with Owen, so that at last he consented. I will say that he knew
little or nothing of possible trouble here, and we told him
nothing, for, in the first place, we had no certainty thereof, and
in the next, he was not strong enough to do anything against it if
we had.
When we came to ask Gerent if Howel might take him to Dyfed, we
found no difficulty at all, which surprised me not a little. I
think that the king knew that it was well for him to be across the
channel in all quiet.
So it came to pass that in a few days all was ready for our going
to Watchet to find Thorgils or some other shipmaster who would take
us over. We could wait at Norton until the time of sailing came, if
we might not cross at once, and thence I should go back to Ina.
One may guess without any telling of mine what the parting with
Owen was for Gerent. As for myself, I was somewhat sorry to bid the
old king farewell, for I liked him, and he was ever most kind to
me. But I was not sorry to leave his court, by any means, for those
reasons of which I have spoken, and of them most of all for fear of
more plotting against Owen.
Now I will say that the ride to Watchet, slow and careful for his
sake who must yet travel in the litter, and in fair summer weather,
is one that I love to look back on. As may be supposed, by this
time I and the princess were very good friends, and it is likely
that I rode beside her for most of the way. We had many things to
talk of.
One thing I have not set down yet is, that it had been easy, after
what he had done for us, to win full pardon for Evan from Gerent.
Now he rode with me, well armed and stalwart, as my servant, and
one could hardly want a more likely looking one. And Nona had some
good words and friendly to say to him, which made him hold his head
higher yet after a time.
Presently, since I was on my way back to Glastonbury and onwards,
we must needs speak of Elfrida, and I told her how I had fared when
I came back from Dyfed. She laughed at me, and I laughed at myself
also; for now I knew at last that the old fancy had in all truth
passed from my mind.
So we came to Norton, and then sought Thorgils, and after that it
was a week before he was ready. I mind the wonder on the face of
the Norseman when he saw Evan at my heels on the day when his ship
came home and I met him on the wharf; but he was glad to see him
there.
"Faith," he said, "it has been a trouble to me that a man whom I
was wont to trust had turned out so ill. It shook my own belief in
my better judgment. I did think I knew a man when I saw him, until
then. So I was not far wrong after all. Now I will make a new song
of his deeds, and I do not think it will be a bad one."
Then it came to pass that one day, when the wind blew fair for
Tenby, I saw the ship draw away from me as her broad sail filled,
while on the deck was Owen in a great chair, and from his side Nona
waved to me, and Howel shouted that I must come over ere long and
fetch Owen home. Thorgils was steering, and he lifted his arm and
cried his parting words, and so I turned away, feeling lonely as a
man may feel for a little while. And presently I looked again
toward the ship, and I think that the last I saw of her was the
flutter of Nona's kerchief in the soft wind, and I vowed that
nought should hinder me from Dyfed when the time came.
Thereafter I rode to Glastonbury, and told Herewald what I thought
of the trouble that was surely brewing in the west; and he said
that he also had some reason to think that along his borders men
were getting more unruly, as if none tried to hinder them from
giving cause of offence to us.
"Well, if they will but keep quiet until this wedding is over it
will be a comfort," he said. "I should be more at ease if once
Elfrida was safely in Sussex."
Then I learned that the wedding was to be in a month's time or so,
and already there were preparations in hand for it. With all my
heart I hoped also that nought might mar it.
Then I passed on to the king at Winchester, and glad was he to hear
that we had indeed found Owen. But as he listened to what I thought
was coming on us from the west, he said:
"It is even what Owen and I foresaw with the death of Aldhelm. This
is a matter that not even Owen could have prevented, for it comes
of the jealousy of the priests. We will go to Glastonbury and
watch, and maybe we shall be in time for the wedding. But I will
not be the one to break the peace. If war there must be, it must
come from Gerent."
And so he mused for a while, and then said:
"Well, so it will be. And not before West Wales has tried her
failing force for the last time will there be a lasting peace."