Free The End of Magic by James Mallory Page B

where it lies, I fear our plight is grave indeed.”
    But when they returned to their lodging, it appeared that their quest was not as hopeless as it seemed, for the others had
     been putting their time to good use as well.
    “There’s an old temple up in the hills outside the city,” Kay said. “The monks all say it’s cursed, but Bradamante spoke to
     the old laundress, and she says that the common people still go there to pray to the Goddess of the Old Ways. She is said
     to know the answers to all questions.”
    Arthur turned to Bradamante. In her tunic and trews the lady-knight looked like a beardless boy—and just now, a hot and irritated
     one.
    “It is true enough,” Bradamante answered, shrugging. “I was born in this country, and it is true that many of the countryfolk
     still follow the Old Ways. But how can the Old Ways help you to find the Grail?”
    “I don’t know,” Arthur answered honestly. “But I will not reject good advice, no matter its source, and if this oracle can
     answer all questions, perhaps she can answer this one. Can you find someone who will take us there?”
    The old woman’s name was Graziella, and she plainly thought the British knights were mad. But Bradamante spoke to her in her
     own language, and at last she agreed to take them to the Spring of Memory, high in the hills above Rome.
    The party left that very night, for though Arthur preferred to see only the good in everyone, he was no trusting innocent.
     Virgilius had been far too interested in the Grail and the power it represented not to keep a close watch on the man who had
     brought him the news of it. Arthur thought it might be prudent to be gone from Rome before Virgilius thought of more questions
     he wished to ask.
    Once they were outside the city and past the ring of surrounding farms, the hills became a ghostly deserted place in the twilight.
     The only sound was the jingling of the horses’ bits, and the creaking and clicking of the knights’ armor as they rode.
    Graziella walked ahead of them untiringly until she reached a place where the path divided. She pointed in the direction leading
     further up into the hills and spoke quickly to Bradamante in her own tongue.
    “She says the spring lies at the end of this path. She says she must go home now, for her daughter is waiting for her, but
     that we will have no trouble in finding the place,” Bradamante translated doubtfully.
    Bedivere snorted. “That’s a tale I’ve heard before. They say ‘you can’t miss it,’ and next thing you know you’re up to your
     nose in some bog.”
    “Thank her for her help,” Arthur said, ignoring the Welsh knight. Bradamante spoke to the old woman again, and gave her a
     few coins for her trouble. She returned the way she had come, and in a few moments the knights from Camelot were alone.
    “This is a fool’s errand,” Kay said roundly. “We are all good Christian men. What cause can we have to resort to a Pagan sorceress?”
    “It was a wizard who helped me to the throne of Britain,” Arthur reminded his foster brother, “and gave both of us our lessons
     as boys. Merlin taught me not to be too proud to accept help from any source. If this prophetess can help me to find the Grail,
     then it ill behooves any of us to despise her aid.”
    After that they proceeded in silence along the path, as the night darkened further and the moon rose, until at last they could
     hear the sound of running water up ahead. Soon thereafter they reached their goal.
    The water issued in a thin stream from the mouth of a grinning gargoyle face carved high above into the rock face, then fell
     a dozen feet into a basin cut into the rock below. The edge of the basin was strewn with the offerings of the countryfolk:
     flowers, and honeycakes wrapped in paper, and small dolls twisted out of harvest grasses. These things belonged to the Old
     Ways, and Arthur automatically crossed himself, lest any of the forces summoned here wish to do