A Prince of Cornwall Part 35

"Be still, and answer me."

The song stopped, and the lifted sickle sank with the hand that held it, and the eyes of Morfed left mine and sought the ground.

"What will you?" he said. "Let me go, for it is time."

"When you have answered," I said sternly. "Tell me, where is Owen?"

"In yonder pool," he said, as a child will answer its teacher.

But if he answered as a child, his face was sullen as of a child that is minded to rebel, and I knew that he would try not to tell me aught.

"You lie," I said coldly. "Neither Christian priest nor Druid would dare set a prince of Cornwall in an unhallowed grave. Tell me the truth."

"Ay, I lied," he said, speaking in a strange voice that seemed to come from him against his will. And then he spoke quickly, without faltering or excuse. "I led the men who should slay the despiser of the faith of his youth and friend of the Saxon, and we came to the house and destroyed it, but they slew him not. Sorely wounded he was, and yet they would not do my bidding and make an end, but murmured at me. Then they bore him away into the hills, saying that they would heal him of his hurts and thereafter win his pardon, for he was ever forgiving, and it is true that I told them not who it was they were to slay. I said that it was Oswald the Saxon, who slew Morgan, and they were glad. I do not know how it has come to pa.s.s that you are here. I hate you!"

"Speak on, Morfed," I said, for he had stayed his words on that, and I bent all my mind into that command as it were, so that he knew that I meant to be his master in this.

"Why should I not speak," he said dully. "Let me end quickly. Ay, I went with them, thinking that he would die on the way, for he was sorely wounded, and I mocked them and threatened them in vain. I led them to this place, and when they knew it they fled, and left him to me. Wherefore I brought him here, that I might see him die--I and these two carried him on the litter the men made. Then will I bury him in no hallowed grave, for I myself spoke the uttermost ban of Holy Church against him, for that he had herded with the men of the Saxons who follow Canterbury, and has wrought for peace with them."

Then I knew at last that Owen was not dead, and I think that in my gladness I lost my hold on Morfed, as it were, for I half forgot him. And at that moment there came a little cry from one of the men who waited by the flat altar stone, and both of them looked to Morfed for some command, as if a time had come. The stone was in full light now, and I noted that the shadow of the menhir was creeping toward its base, but not yet quite pointing to it.

But Morfed did not answer the cry, and the great adder, roused by it, moved restlessly in its coils, darting its long forked tongue into the hollow of the stone as if it sought somewhat. Then one of the men who seemed the younger took from under his robe a golden flask and poured what looked like milk into the hollow, and the creature lowered its head and lapped it thence.

At that cry Morfed started and half turned. But I had more to ask him, and I spoke sternly. Behind me was a rattle of arms, as if Howel would have stayed him.

"Morfed," I said, "you have yet to tell me where Owen, the prince, is hidden. If you would finish what you are about here, tell me straightway, or bid one of these men shew me, or we will stay all this wizardry."

Maybe I spoke more boldly than I felt, for indeed the whole business and the place made all seem uncanny. I know that my comrades feared it all.

But now Morfed heeded my word no longer. Slowly at last he turned away, and now he must needs look back toward the altar stone and the menhir in turning, and the sight of them seemed to bring to his mind what work he had here, so that in a moment I was forgotten, and he sprang past me toward his attendants, one of whom was pointing silently, but with a white face, to the shadow of the menhir. And I saw that now it touched the stone and crept up on its surface for an inch or less.

I suppose that tomorrow that shadow would be so much shorter, and would not lie on the flat top of the stone at all. Then for a little s.p.a.ce the sun would seem to one at the back of the altar to stand on the menhir's top, while all the stone and the bowl where the adder lay was in full light, even as men say the sun seems to stand on the great stone of Stonehenge on Midsummer Day at its rising. I had seen that wonder once, and this minded me of it.

But what Morfed saw told him that midday had come and was pa.s.sing; and all that meant to him, beyond that the time for some rite had been forgotten, I cannot tell. There came from his lips a cry that was of terror and of sorrow as I thought, and the adder lifted its head from its lapping and coiled itself menacingly.

He did not heed the creature, but threw abroad his hands sunwards, and began to speak hurriedly in that tongue which I could not follow; and as his words went on the faces of his men grew haggard, and one of them wept openly. The younger threw the golden vessel he had in his hand into the pool, and turned on me a look of the most terrible hate, and his hand stole under his robes as if he sought the knife I had seen him draw when they first came.

Now Howel and Evan were beside me, wondering, but spear in hand, and I was glad. There was more than enmity in the look of these men, and one to three has little chance. Whatever strange fears my friends had felt pa.s.sed with the sight of danger.

But while Morfed spoke his followers were still, listening to him intently, until at last he seemed to dismiss them; and then they turned from him with a strange deep reverence, and folded their hands on their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and came past where we stood, not looking at us, but with their eyes on the ground as if they were going back, up the water course whence they came. And at that I thought they might be going to where Owen was, and that they would harm him.

"Quick, Evan," I said; "follow them. See where they go."

"Ay, follow them," said Morfed. "Now I care not what befalls."

And with that he raised his voice and called somewhat to the men, and they quickened their pace into the glen. I did not understand what they said in return, but somewhat in the words of the ancient tongue they spoke was more plain to Howel, and he cried to me hastily, hurrying after Evan.

"Guard you the priest here, and beware of him!"

Then he dashed up the water course into which Evan had already disappeared, and I heard the feet of the four on the loose stone as they climbed upward. I had almost a mind to follow them, for I thought that their way led to Owen, but I dared not leave Morfed to go elsewhere. This might only be a plan to lead us astray.

CHAPTER XIV. HOW OSWALD FOUND WHAT HE SOUGHT, AND RODE HOMEWARD WITH NONA 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 un.o.bserved. 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 pa.s.sed altogether from the altar stone now, and half to himself he said:

"I had thought that this menhir had fallen when this came to pa.s.s.

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 pa.s.sed 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. .h.i.ther 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.