ine o f b eech t rees b orders th e e nd o f th e fi eld a s if g uarding a sec ret. Th e w ind h as go t t o th eir l eaves a nd a lmost stri pped t hem. Th e tr ees f orm a n a rboreal w all b ehind whi ch th e l and d rops down i nto th e go rge flush w ith f erns, sc ree a nd dead woo d n ow t urned go ld . L arge bould ers li e a round as if ra ndomly th rown by a n ira te g iant. Th e en trance t o th e cave is co nspicuous
but aw kward
t o ge t t o. At a c ursory g lance t he o pening l ooks n o m ore th an a min or r ecess, but w ith e nough li ght a nd c uriosity a ny ex plorer co uld see th at t here's some thing th ere. T hey cl imb th e l edge an d hi s f ather s tretches ou t hi s h and a nd p ulls him up .
' We'll need to ma ke so me ste ps h ere,' h e says .
He
shines the torch ahead and the beam creates dancing shadows against the
green-tinged rock. A horizontal passage lies ahead, clear and eerily virgin.
Taliesin 's father has to crouch like an ape to enter and it narrows and cools
with e very s tep
t aken i nto it . Soon th e b eam p icks o ut p atches
o f wa ter a nd drippin g c alcium.
Then th e tunnel wid ens a nd on e ither si de sma ll s talactites a ppear g ripping to th e ce iling a nd drip ping to th e flo or wh ere sta lagmites g row up to m eet th em in ano ther millennium . A n ivo ry s keletal f orest fill s th e cave rn, dr ipping w ith ti me.
T he roc ks mu st b e Ca mbrian, hi s
a tlas of th e w orld
s howed mos t of W ales as a purpl e
Ca mbrian. He tries to r ecall t he r est o f th e nam es: Pr e-Cambrian; C ambrian; Ord ovician; Siluri an; Devo nian; Ca rboniferous a nd P ermian.
'I thi nk p eople
w ill p ay t o
see t his,' h is fat her says .
'I'm free zing,' Ta liesin says.
'W e'll h ave to put a h eater in h ere . Ju st h ere b y the entra nce.'
Un consciously th eir
v oices h ave dropp ed t o a w hisper as
if in a c hapel o r a c hurch. E ven th eir wh ispers
a mplify and s himmer w ith ec ho.
'H ello,' h is fa ther ca lls. ' Hello, h ello, h ello.' Th e w ord b ounces a nd chases it self a round th e
cave . Th ey wa it fo r t he si lence t o r eturn. T aliesin kn ows th at th ere i sn't any thing h ere . N ot a so und com es from th e
cave; n o r eply t o t he ca ll. N ot so l ong
ago he would h ave ex pected a b ooming ro ar
o r s pouting fl ame t o dri ve th em away but now h e h ears only s ilence a nd dri ps. He was runnin g
f rom n othing but
h is im agination. Th e d ragon i s r etreating
fas t i n h is mind , runnin g
fro m th e in evitable
a ppearance o f m aturity
a nd se nse . H e ca n't r ecall th at
c ruel sy mmetry wi th th e sa me cl arity. Th e h ead-ripping red h as f aded, th e jagge d, a ir-slicing wi ngs a re limp , h is fl ame is a d amp s quib, unabl e t o si nge th e kn ight's charge r, a nd th e t ail
s piralling d evilishly to a h arsh tip is fl accid an d br oken.
T he d ragon i s n ow a n id ea th at has a trophied. It ' s j ust an id ea si tting in th at d eep,
we t cavern breat hing s lower t han a g randfather , l istening to
th e dr ips a nd
t o th e w hispered
rum ours o f i ts ex tinction, un able t o m uster m ore t han a
fain t moan which
people mistake for the wind. Taliesin know s now that he doesn't have to run any more and that if he
turned around there would be no amethyst eyes beading down on him .
'Listen ,' his father says. But Taliesin can only hear
their breathing. He has almost two breaths to his father's one, the same as the
footsteps. ' Well, what do you think?' his
father asks. In truth it is cold and damp and Taliesin would rather be
somewhere else . The magic of the cave is
something that exists in his father's head, not his . The stories which once meant so much and were so convincing , no longer hold sway over
him. He doesn't even feel fear at being in this place, the very front room of
the dragon's lair. As he looks into the blackness he knows that there is
nothing there but the fancy that his mother
but aw kward
t o ge t t o. At a c ursory g lance t he o pening l ooks n o m ore th an a min or r ecess, but w ith e nough li ght a nd c uriosity a ny ex plorer co uld see th at t here's some thing th ere. T hey cl imb th e l edge an d hi s f ather s tretches ou t hi s h and a nd p ulls him up .
' We'll need to ma ke so me ste ps h ere,' h e says .
He
shines the torch ahead and the beam creates dancing shadows against the
green-tinged rock. A horizontal passage lies ahead, clear and eerily virgin.
Taliesin 's father has to crouch like an ape to enter and it narrows and cools
with e very s tep
t aken i nto it . Soon th e b eam p icks o ut p atches
o f wa ter a nd drippin g c alcium.
Then th e tunnel wid ens a nd on e ither si de sma ll s talactites a ppear g ripping to th e ce iling a nd drip ping to th e flo or wh ere sta lagmites g row up to m eet th em in ano ther millennium . A n ivo ry s keletal f orest fill s th e cave rn, dr ipping w ith ti me.
T he roc ks mu st b e Ca mbrian, hi s
a tlas of th e w orld
s howed mos t of W ales as a purpl e
Ca mbrian. He tries to r ecall t he r est o f th e nam es: Pr e-Cambrian; C ambrian; Ord ovician; Siluri an; Devo nian; Ca rboniferous a nd P ermian.
'I thi nk p eople
w ill p ay t o
see t his,' h is fat her says .
'I'm free zing,' Ta liesin says.
'W e'll h ave to put a h eater in h ere . Ju st h ere b y the entra nce.'
Un consciously th eir
v oices h ave dropp ed t o a w hisper as
if in a c hapel o r a c hurch. E ven th eir wh ispers
a mplify and s himmer w ith ec ho.
'H ello,' h is fa ther ca lls. ' Hello, h ello, h ello.' Th e w ord b ounces a nd chases it self a round th e
cave . Th ey wa it fo r t he si lence t o r eturn. T aliesin kn ows th at th ere i sn't any thing h ere . N ot a so und com es from th e
cave; n o r eply t o t he ca ll. N ot so l ong
ago he would h ave ex pected a b ooming ro ar
o r s pouting fl ame t o dri ve th em away but now h e h ears only s ilence a nd dri ps. He was runnin g
f rom n othing but
h is im agination. Th e d ragon i s r etreating
fas t i n h is mind , runnin g
fro m th e in evitable
a ppearance o f m aturity
a nd se nse . H e ca n't r ecall th at
c ruel sy mmetry wi th th e sa me cl arity. Th e h ead-ripping red h as f aded, th e jagge d, a ir-slicing wi ngs a re limp , h is fl ame is a d amp s quib, unabl e t o si nge th e kn ight's charge r, a nd th e t ail
s piralling d evilishly to a h arsh tip is fl accid an d br oken.
T he d ragon i s n ow a n id ea th at has a trophied. It ' s j ust an id ea si tting in th at d eep,
we t cavern breat hing s lower t han a g randfather , l istening to
th e dr ips a nd
t o th e w hispered
rum ours o f i ts ex tinction, un able t o m uster m ore t han a
fain t moan which
people mistake for the wind. Taliesin know s now that he doesn't have to run any more and that if he
turned around there would be no amethyst eyes beading down on him .
'Listen ,' his father says. But Taliesin can only hear
their breathing. He has almost two breaths to his father's one, the same as the
footsteps. ' Well, what do you think?' his
father asks. In truth it is cold and damp and Taliesin would rather be
somewhere else . The magic of the cave is
something that exists in his father's head, not his . The stories which once meant so much and were so convincing , no longer hold sway over
him. He doesn't even feel fear at being in this place, the very front room of
the dragon's lair. As he looks into the blackness he knows that there is
nothing there but the fancy that his mother
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