A Prince of Cornwall Part 31

The bright face and voice cheered me wonderfully, and for the moment, at least, I felt sure that our search would not fail. Then I tried to persuade her not to come with us. One could not say that there was any safety, even for her, among the men who would harm Owen, though I thought that none would be in the least likely to fall on Howel. Rather, they would keep out of his way altogether.

In my own mind I wished that I was going alone, or with none but Jago, though, on the other hand, it might be possible that men would speak to him if they would not to me. And at last I did persuade her to bide here until we had news, promising that if need was she should come and see the place herself when all was known.

"Well, maybe it is not so needful that I should go now," she said.

"I thought that I alone could tell my father when that valley was found, but you know as much of it as I, and will be sure when you stand in it."

And so we fell to talk of these visions which were so much alike, and there was but one difference in them. In the dream of the princess the pool had been ruffled, and mine was still as gla.s.s.

And that seemed strange, and we could make nothing of it. Then Howel came back, and there is little more to say of the doings of that evening. There was no feasting in Gerent's house now.

Very early in the next dawning Howel and I rode westward with five score men of Gerent's best after us, into wilder country than I had ever yet seen; and late in the evening we came to where the countless folds of Dartmoor lie round the heads of Dart River. And there Tregoz had set his house, and I think that it was the first that had ever been in those wilds, save the huts of the villagers.

Only the hall of the place had been burnt, and there yet stood the house of the steward on the village green, if one may call a meadow that had a dozen huts round it by that name, and we bestowed ourselves in the great room of that, while our men found places in stables and outhouses and the huts. Every man of the place had fled as they saw us coming, for the fear of Gerent was on them; but the women and children remained, and they had heard of the son of Owen, at least, since he and I were in Dartmoor in the spring. I had some of them brought to me when we were rested, and told them that none need fear aught, knowing that they would tell their menfolk.

And so it was, for after we had been quietly in the place for two days the men were back and at their work again. I do not think that even our Mendip miners were so wild as these people, and their strange Welsh was hard for me and Howel to understand. I will say that the whole matter seemed hopeless for a time, for no man would say anything to us about it. If we spoke to a man, questioning him, and presently wished to find him again, he was gone, and it would be days ere he came back.

Some of our guards knew the country as well as most, and with them we rode many a long mile into the hills during the first few days, searching for the deepest valleys, and ever did I look to see the great menhir before me as we came to bend after bend of the hills.

Circles of standing stones we found, and cromlechs, ruins of ancient round stone huts where villages had been before men could remember, and once we saw a menhir on the hillside; but that was not what I sought, and none could tell us of the lost valley.

Yet it was in my mind as I questioned one or two that their looks seemed to say that the description of the place was not unknown to them, and if they would they could tell me more. At last, when I came to know the speech better at the end of a week, I thought that I would try another plan; I would trust to the shepherds, and ride alone for once across the hills. I thought that, even were I set upon, my horse would take me from danger more quickly than hillmen could run, and Howel, unwillingly enough, agreed that it seemed to be the only chance. Maybe the men would speak more openly with me on the hillside and alone.

So I asked if there was any one could tell me where there were menhirs in the valleys, and a shepherd said that he knew two or three. So I rode with him at my side to one of these, but it was not that which I sought; and, as I hoped, the man was more willing to speak, and we got on well enough. We had not met with a soul all day, but my hawk had taken two bustard after I saw the stone and was disappointed. One of these as a gift to the shepherd had opened his lips wonderfully, and we were talking as we rode in the dusk, and were not so far from the village, of another stone that I was to see next day, when I asked him if he had ever heard of the lost valley of pool and menhir.

He did not answer, but shrunk to my side, looking round him fearfully.

"What comes, Lord," he said, whispering;--"see yonder?"

He pointed across the bare hillside, and I looked but saw nothing.

"I saw nought," I said. "Is it unlucky to speak of the place?"

"I saw somewhat leap from yonder rock," he whispered; "it went behind that other."

Plainly the man was terrified, and I asked him what he feared.

"The good folk, Lord."

"Pixies?--Do they come when one speaks of the lost valley?"

"Speak lower, Lord,--lower! Look, yonder it is again!"

Then I also saw in the dusk the figure of a man who crept softly from one great boulder to another, and without thinking of the terror of the shepherd I spurred my horse, and rode straight for the rock behind which the figure disappeared, having no mind to have an arrow put into me at short range by one of the men of Tregoz--or of Morfed--unawares.

The shepherd howled in fright when he was left, but I did not heed him, and in a moment I was round the rock and almost on the cowering man whom I had seen. He turned to fly, and I cried to him to stop, but he only got another rock between me and him, for the hillside was covered with them, and shrank behind it, so that I could only see his wild eyes as he glared at me across it. He said nothing, and I did not think that he was armed, so far as the dim evening light would let me see.

"Why are you d.o.g.g.i.ng me thus?" I cried; "come out, and no harm will befall you."

I rode round, and he s.h.i.+fted as I did, so that he was between me and the shepherd, and then I called to the latter that this was but a man, and bade him come and help me to catch him. Whereon the man looked swiftly over his shoulder and saw that he was fairly trapped.

"Keep him back, Master," he said in a strange growling voice, which was not that of a Dartmoor savage either in tone or speech. "Keep him back, and we will talk together; I mean no harm."

But I had no need to tell the shepherd not to come, for he bided where he was, being afraid; but I held up my hand to him as if to bid him be still, lest the man should know that he would not help me.

"Come out like a man," I said. "One would think that you were some evildoer."

"Master, I will swear that I am not. Let that be, for I have somewhat to tell you that you will be glad to hear."

"If that is true, why did you not come openly, instead of waiting till I had you in a corner? Every one knows that there is reward for news from any honest man."

"There are those who would take my life if they caught me, Master.

I have been seeking for speech with you alone all this day; I hoped the shepherd would leave you hereabout for his home, and then I would have come to you."

"Well," I said, "if you could tell me what I need to hear I will hold you safe from any."

"Master, will you swear that?" said the man eagerly.

Then it came across me that maybe this was one of those who fell on Owen, for one might well look for a traitor among so many.

So I answered cautiously: "Save and except you are one of those who have wrought harm to the prince you shall be safe. If you are one who has him alive and in keeping you shall be safe also."

"Master, you have promised, and it is well known that you keep your word. I am your man henceforward, by reason of that promise. I will give you a token that I have not harmed the prince."

"What have you to tell?"

"Master, they say that you seek the lost valley, of which none will speak."

"That seems true; but speak up, and mouth not your words so."

"Here was I born and bred, Master," said the man, still in the same growling voice. "I know where the lost valley is hidden, though none may go there save at peril of life. It is unlucky so much as to speak thereof."

"Can you take me within sight of its place, so that I can find it?"

I asked, with a wild hope at last springing up in me.

"I can; and, Master, unluckier than I am I cannot be, so that life is little to me. Into that place I will even go for you, and risk what may befall me, if only you will find pardon for me. Only, I do not know if you will find aught of Owen the prince there."

"You must be in a bad way, my poor churl," said I, "if things are thus with you. But if you will help me to that place, and there let me find what I may, there is naught that may not be forgiven you.

Even were it murder, I will pay the weregild for you, and you shall have cause to say that the place has no ill luck for you."

"Thane," said the man, in a new voice that was strangely familiar to me, "you have spoken, and forgiven I shall surely be."

Then he rose from behind the rock and came to my side, and took my hand and kissed it again and again, and surely I had seen his form before.

"Thane, I am Evan the outlaw, and my life is yours because you forgave me a little once, and saved me from the wolves, giving that life back to me when I knew it well nigh gone."

I looked at the pale hair and beard of the man, and wondered.

Evan's had been black as night.

"It is Evan's voice," I said; "but you have changed strangely."

"Needs must I, Thane, with every man's hand against me, if I would serve you and Owen the prince for your sake."