and once I was
brought to a halt by a fall of rubble which almost blocked the way,
but I climbed through, and the tunnel was clear beyond.
Cerdic had stopped at the barrier of
rubble. He advanced the torch and peered after me. "Hey, look,
Merlin, come back, for pity's sake! This is beyond any kind of
folly. I tell you, these places are dangerous, and we're getting
down into the very guts of the rock. The gods alone know what lives
down here. Come back, boy."
"Don't be a coward, Cerdic, there's
plenty of room for you. Come on through. Quickly."
"That I won't. If you don't come out
this minute, I swear I'll go back and tell the King."
"Look," I said, "this is important.
Don't ask me why. But I swear to you there's no danger. If you're
afraid, then give me that torch, and get back."
"You know I can't do that."
"Yes, I know. You wouldn't dare go
back to tell him, would you? And if you did leave me, and anything
happened, what do you suppose would happen to you?"
"They say right when they say you're a
devil's spawn," said Cerdic.
I laughed. "You can say what you like
to me when we're back in daylight, but hurry now, Cerdic, please.
You're safe, I promise you. There's no harm in the air today, and
you saw how the merlin showed us the door."
He came, of course. Poor Cerdic, he
could afford to do nothing else. But as he stood beside me again,
with the torch held up, I saw him looking at me sideways, and his
left hand was making the sign against the evil eye.
"Don't be long," he said, "that's
all." Twenty paces further, round a curve, the tunnel led into the
cavern. I made a sign to him to lift the torch. I could not have
spoken. This vast hollow, right in the hill's heart, this darkness
hardly touched by the torch's flare, this dead stillness of air
where I could hear and feel my own blood beating -- this, of
course, was the place. I recognized every mark of the workings, the
face seamed and split by the axes, and smashed open by the water.
There was the domed roof disappearing into darkness, there in a
corner some rusty metal where the pump had stood. There the shining
moisture on the wall, no longer a ribbon, but a curtain of gleaming
damp. And there where the puddles had lain, and the seepage under
the overhang, a wide, still pool. Fully a third of the floor was
under water.
The air had a strange smell all its
own, the breath of the water and the living rock. Somewhere above,
water dripped, each tap clear like a small hammer on metal. I took
the smouldering block from Cerdic's hand, and went to the water's
edge. I held the light as high as I could, out over the water, and
gazed down. There was nothing to see. The light glanced back from a
surface as hard as metal. I waited. The light ran, and gleamed, and
drowned in darkness. There was nothing there but my own reflection,
like the ghost in Galapas' mirror.
I gave the torch back to Cerdic. He
hadn't spoken. He was watching me all the time with that sidelong,
white-eyed look.
I touched his arm. "We can go back
now. This thing's nearly out anyway. Come on."
We didn't speak as we made our way
back along the curving gallery, past the rubble, through the adur
and out into the frosty afternoon. The sky was a pale, milky blue.
The winter trees stood brittle and quiet against it, the birches
white as bone. From below a horn called, urgent, in the still
metallic air.
"They're going." Cerdic drove the
torch down into the frozen ground to extinguish it. I scrambled
down through the thicket. The dove still lay there, cold, and stiff
already. The merlin was there too; it had withdrawn from the body
of its kill, and sat near it on a stone, hunched and motionless,
even when I approached. I picked up the ring-dove and threw it to
Cerdic. "Shove it in your saddle-bag. I don't have to tell you to
say nothing of this, do I?"
"You do not. What are you
doing?"
"He's stunned. If we leave him here
he'll freeze to death in an hour. I'm taking him."
"Take care! That's a grown
brought to a halt by a fall of rubble which almost blocked the way,
but I climbed through, and the tunnel was clear beyond.
Cerdic had stopped at the barrier of
rubble. He advanced the torch and peered after me. "Hey, look,
Merlin, come back, for pity's sake! This is beyond any kind of
folly. I tell you, these places are dangerous, and we're getting
down into the very guts of the rock. The gods alone know what lives
down here. Come back, boy."
"Don't be a coward, Cerdic, there's
plenty of room for you. Come on through. Quickly."
"That I won't. If you don't come out
this minute, I swear I'll go back and tell the King."
"Look," I said, "this is important.
Don't ask me why. But I swear to you there's no danger. If you're
afraid, then give me that torch, and get back."
"You know I can't do that."
"Yes, I know. You wouldn't dare go
back to tell him, would you? And if you did leave me, and anything
happened, what do you suppose would happen to you?"
"They say right when they say you're a
devil's spawn," said Cerdic.
I laughed. "You can say what you like
to me when we're back in daylight, but hurry now, Cerdic, please.
You're safe, I promise you. There's no harm in the air today, and
you saw how the merlin showed us the door."
He came, of course. Poor Cerdic, he
could afford to do nothing else. But as he stood beside me again,
with the torch held up, I saw him looking at me sideways, and his
left hand was making the sign against the evil eye.
"Don't be long," he said, "that's
all." Twenty paces further, round a curve, the tunnel led into the
cavern. I made a sign to him to lift the torch. I could not have
spoken. This vast hollow, right in the hill's heart, this darkness
hardly touched by the torch's flare, this dead stillness of air
where I could hear and feel my own blood beating -- this, of
course, was the place. I recognized every mark of the workings, the
face seamed and split by the axes, and smashed open by the water.
There was the domed roof disappearing into darkness, there in a
corner some rusty metal where the pump had stood. There the shining
moisture on the wall, no longer a ribbon, but a curtain of gleaming
damp. And there where the puddles had lain, and the seepage under
the overhang, a wide, still pool. Fully a third of the floor was
under water.
The air had a strange smell all its
own, the breath of the water and the living rock. Somewhere above,
water dripped, each tap clear like a small hammer on metal. I took
the smouldering block from Cerdic's hand, and went to the water's
edge. I held the light as high as I could, out over the water, and
gazed down. There was nothing to see. The light glanced back from a
surface as hard as metal. I waited. The light ran, and gleamed, and
drowned in darkness. There was nothing there but my own reflection,
like the ghost in Galapas' mirror.
I gave the torch back to Cerdic. He
hadn't spoken. He was watching me all the time with that sidelong,
white-eyed look.
I touched his arm. "We can go back
now. This thing's nearly out anyway. Come on."
We didn't speak as we made our way
back along the curving gallery, past the rubble, through the adur
and out into the frosty afternoon. The sky was a pale, milky blue.
The winter trees stood brittle and quiet against it, the birches
white as bone. From below a horn called, urgent, in the still
metallic air.
"They're going." Cerdic drove the
torch down into the frozen ground to extinguish it. I scrambled
down through the thicket. The dove still lay there, cold, and stiff
already. The merlin was there too; it had withdrawn from the body
of its kill, and sat near it on a stone, hunched and motionless,
even when I approached. I picked up the ring-dove and threw it to
Cerdic. "Shove it in your saddle-bag. I don't have to tell you to
say nothing of this, do I?"
"You do not. What are you
doing?"
"He's stunned. If we leave him here
he'll freeze to death in an hour. I'm taking him."
"Take care! That's a grown
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