Free Legacy: Arthurian Saga by Mary Stewart Page B

cleft. Below me, Galapas said softly: "Think of
nothing. I have the reins in my hand; it is not for you yet. Watch
only." I heard him move back across the cave towards the
mirror.
    The cave was bigger than I had
imagined. It stretched upwards further than I could see, and the
floor was worn smooth. I had even been wrong about the crystals;
the glimmer that reflected the torchlight came only from puddles on
the floor, and a place on one wall where a thin slither of moisture
betrayed a spring somewhere above.
    The torches, jammed into cracks in the
cave wall, were cheap ones, of rag stuffed into cracked horns --
the rejects from the workshops. They burned sullenly in the bad
air. Though the place was cold, the men worked naked save for
loincloths, and sweat ran over their backs as they hacked at the
rock-face, steady ceaseless tapping blows that made no noise, but
you could see the muscles clench and jar under the torchlit sweat.
Beneath a knee-high overhang at the base of the wall, flat on their
backs in a pool of seepage, two men hammered upwards with
shortened, painful blows at rock within inches of their faces. On
the wrist of one of them I saw the shiny pucker of an old
brand.
    One of the hewers at the face doubled
up, coughing, then with a glance over his shoulder stifled the
cough and got back to work. Light was growing in the cave, coming
from a square opening like a doorway, which gave on a curved tunnel
down which a fresh torch -- a good one -- came.
    Four boys appeared, filthy with dust
and naked like the others, carrying deep baskets, and behind them
came a man dressed in a brown tunic smudged with damp. He had the
torch in one hand and in the other a tablet which he stood studying
with frowning brows while the boys ran with their baskets to the
rock-face and began to shovel the fallen rock into them. After a
while the foreman went forward to the face and studied it, holding
his torch high. The men drew back, thankful it seemed for the
respite, and one of them spoke to the foreman, pointing first at
the workings, then at the seeping damp at the far side of the
cave.
    The boys had shovelled and scrabbled
their baskets full, and dragged them back from the face. The
foreman, with a shrug and a grin, took a silver coin from his pouch
and, with the gambler's practiced flick, tossed it. The workmen
craned to see. Then the man who had spoken turned back to the face
and drove the pick in.
    The crack widened, and dust rushed
down, blotting out the light. Then in the wake of the dust came the
water.
    "Drink this," said Galapas.
    "What is it?"
    "One of my brews, not yours; it's
quite safe. Drink it."
    "Thanks. Galapas, the cave is crystal
still. I -- dreamed it differently."
    "Never mind that now. How do you
feel?"
    "Odd...I can't explain. I feel all
right, only a headache, but -- empty, like a shell with the snail
out of it. No, like a reed with the pith pulled out."
    "A whistle for the winds. Yes. Come
down to the brazier." When I sat in my old place, with a cup of
mulled wine in my hands, he asked: "Where were you?" I told him
what I had seen, but when I began to ask what it meant, and what he
knew, he shook his head. "I think this has already gone past me. I
do not know. All I know is that you must finish that wine quickly
and go home. Do you realize how long you lay there dreaming? The
moon is up."
    I started to my feet. "Already? It
must be well past supper-time. If they're looking for me
--"
    "They will not be looking for you.
Other things are happening. Go and find out for yourself -- and
make sure you are part of them."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Only what I say. Whatever means you
have to use, go with the King. Here, don't forget this." He thrust
my jerkin into my arms. I took it blindly, staring. "He's leaving
Maridunum?"
    "Yes. Only for a while. I don't know
how long."
    "He'll never take me."
    "That's for you to say. The gods only
go with you, Myrddin Emrys, if you put yourself in their path. And
that takes courage. Put