The Stolen Lake Part 16

'He'll break that sword; sure as a gun,' grunted Windward. No one else said anything.

The hail was rattling down like grapeshot, but n.o.body heeded it; all their attention was focused on those two straining hands. Suddenly there came a sharp crack! like the sound of a sail flapping in a high wind; and a V-shaped crevice appeared in the centre of the rock barrier, as its two halves gradually tilted sideways away from each other.

Mr Holystone stepped back, slowly withdrawing the sword from the widening crack. He was gasping; his chest heaved with effort. But otherwise it was hard to believe that this was the man who, day after day, had lain unconscious without speech or movement. He glanced at his companions; his eye lit on Dido.

'You are small; you can climb in through that gap,' he said curtly. Without a word, Dido did as she was directed, ignoring Windward's peevish interjection of, 'Wait a moment, now, how do we know what's in there?'

Dido levered herself cautiously through the narrow aperture.

'Anybody at home?' she inquired.

It was pitch-dark inside, but she was heartened and encouraged by the feeling of the cat, vigorously rubbing against her leg. The air was terribly scanty, stale and bad; she found it only just possible to breathe.

'Hey!' she gulped, putting her head back through the crack, 'Fetch up some o' those rumirumi flowers, can you?'

'Aye, aye,' answered Multiple, and she heard his feet thudding off down the gully. Then came a loud cry of amazement or fright.

Dido ignored that. Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dim light, and she could see a small figure huddled in a corner of the cave.

'Hilloo?' she said softly. 'Who's that? Can you speak? Are you Elen?'

'Yes Elen -' came the faint answer. 'Air please, air!'

'Don't you fret. Air's just a-coming. Rest easy!'

Groping her way across the cave, Dido felt about and found a thin hand, which she clasped comfortingly; it seemed very small, not even as large as her own.

In five minutes or less, Mr Multiple was back with an armful of rumirumi lilies which he thrust through the gap; outside, beyond the rock, Dido could hear him excitedly telling the others some piece of news which evoked gasps of amazement and disbelief from Windward and Noah. 'Go look for yourselves!' said Mr Multiple.

Dido meanwhile held the bundle of flowers close to the prisoner's face.

'There!' she whispered. 'Breathe deep now. That'll set you right in a brace o' shakes!'

The prisoner breathed, gulped, and coughed. Cough, thought Dido; a convulsion of the lungs; she felt around on the floor of the cave and discovered a small, thick book, which felt as if it were bound in leather.

'Guess you won't need to tear out any more pages now, hey? Feeling stronger, are you? Think you can manage to climb out? Or shall I ask them outside to pa.s.s in a bit of bread and a hardboiled egg?'

'No no I am better now, thank you. I think I can climb out.'

'That's the dandy. Wait till I help you up. Slowly does it.'

a.s.sisted by Dido the prisoner scrambled slowly through the narrow crack. "Willing hands were waiting to receive her on the far side.

When Dido emerged herself, holding the book, she discovered that the hail had changed to freezing, driving snow. Lieutenant Windward, Mr Holystone, Noah and the rescued prisoner were already making their difficult way down the gully. Mr Multiple had waited to help Dido.

'Well done, young 'un!' he congratulated her. 'Reckon she'd never a got out if it weren't for you! But come on now don't dally it's cold enough to freeze a bra.s.s baboon.'

'You take this book and the flowers, then I'll carry the cat ' for it had jumped back through the gap with Dido. 'What was all that yelling about?' she asked, as they slipped and stumbled down the rocky hillside in the blizzard.

'I'll show you. Just look here!' Mr Multiple paused by a big rock. Something purple and silver gleamed beyond it. With total astonishment, Dido, coming up beside him, saw the body of a woman sprawled among the black boulders. Already snow was veining the folds of her satin dress and whitening her dishevelled hair. She had been wearing a loo-mask, but the string had broken, and it lay beside her face. Dido recognised her.

'It's Mrs Vavasour the dressmaker. How the blazes did she get here? Is she dead?'

'As a doornail.'

'But where did she come from?'

'You remember the big owl? The one that lit on your head, and Holystone spiked it with his sword? Well, that's her! I saw the owl fly to that rock, and then it toppled off dead. And there she lies. She was the owl!'

'Mussy save us,' whispered Dido. She was really stunned by this discovery.

'I used to hear tell, when I was in the West Indies Station,' said Mr Multiple, as they went on slithering down the hill, 'of witches who could turn themselves into hares or foxes or birds; but I never believed it above half.'

'There were two owls,' s.h.i.+vered Dido. 'I wonder where the other went?'

She thought of the two women who had abducted her; of the two who had accompanied Lady Ettarde. Were they the same? Where was Mrs Morgan now?

'It better not come near me,' said Mr Multiple cheerfully, 'or I'll give it neighbour's fare. I'll settle its hash like that one.'

'Maybe you need Mr Holystone's sword,' said Dido.

By the time they reached the burros, the rest of the party were mounted and waiting for them impatiently. There was no time for talk or congratulation; the weather had become too wild.

'Come on!' called Mr Windward. 'I reckon the Guardian's stable that Dylan told us of can't be too far off. If we don't get to it soon we'll all freeze in our tracks!'

The rescued prisoner had been laid in the litter, wrapped in sheepskins, and Mr Holystone had mounted one of the baggage burros. They set off at a rapid pace. Snow slashed their faces like cutla.s.s-blades, and the donkeys slipped and staggered as the stones became coated with ice; it was horrible riding. Fortunately in less than twenty minutes they reached the end of the lake; by then their faces, clothes, and all exposed surfaces were cased in a layer of ice. Not a moment too soon they came to a low building, solidly built of clay and thatched with ichu gra.s.s; the door, though closed, was not fastened, and they all bundled inside, pell-mell, riders and beasts together.

'Anybody about? May we come in?' shouted Windward, but there was no reply; the place was empty, save for a few mules and a couple of llamas, who stared placidly at the intruders.

Noah and Mr Multiple instantly began to kindle a fire, having discovered a clay hearth and a pile of thorn and llama droppings apparently intended as fuel.

A wide clay shelf along the side of the building was evidently meant to serve both as a table, chairs and bed, for any travellers making use of the place. Lieutenant Windward heaped some ruanas on a section of this near the fire, and then a.s.sisted the rescued captive to lie down.

'How are you feeling now, Miss?' he inquired very politely.

The fire blazed up. Dido could see now that the prisoner was a girl perhaps four years older than herself. Elen wore a very plain grey dress with a white tucker, and a brown pinafore over it, reaching to her ankles. She had blue stockings, buckled shoes, and a blue cap that fitted her head closely and had four square corners. She was desperately thin and frail. Despite that she was the most beautiful person that Dido had ever seen. Her face had a kind of transparent clearness like the mountains at sun-up, Dido thought, or one o' them waterfalls. Her eyes were large and grey, her nose straight, her mouth wide and smiling. Silky brown curtains of hair fell on either side of her forehead.

'I am alive!' she said, in answer to Windward's question. Thanks to you all! And to Tildrum here.' The cat had jumped up beside her and she was fondling its head.

'How did you ever get behind that rock?' demanded the lieutenant.

'Are you King Mabon's daughter?' said Dido.

The girl smiled at her and held out a hand.

'Yes, I am Elen. And I have to thank you, especially, for climbing through that cranny, and thinking to get me the rumirumi flowers!'

You have to thank me for a deal more than that, Dido thought, taking the small thin hand for the second time and smiling back at the princess of Lyonesse.

'How many o' them cats did you have to start?' she asked.

'Six. Poor faithful friends . . . I am afraid Aurocs or wild beasts must have killed the others.'

'Not all o' them,' said Dido. 'Three got through. But like the loot here asked who put you in there?'

'Queen Ginevra, of course,' said Elen, as if surprised that anybody should ask such a simple question.

Dido noticed that Mr Holystone, who, since entering the warm, dim stable, had seemed wrapped in dreamy reverie, gazing at the fire, started slightly at this name and looked round.

'The queen put you there?' Windward gaped at the princess. 'But why?'

'For a sacrifice to Sul. The temple of Sul is up above here, on the mountain.'

'Why?' he said again incredulously.

'For long life, naturally?' Elen. raised her beautiful brows. 'Many short lives make one long one. How can she live until her Quondam king comes back unless she takes a great many other lives young lives, of girls?'

Windward stared at her, speechless, stiff with horror.

'That's why there weren't any girls in Tenby or Bath? It ain't the Aurocs at all?' Dido nodded, her suspicions fully confirmed.

'I daresay the Aurocs may have had one or two every year,' said Elen. 'But they mostly remain in the mountains. You have only to ask the Guardian of this place; he will tell you how many years he has been throwing girls into Lake Arianrod. And his predecessors before him.'

'I never heard anything so disgraceful in my whole life,' said Lieutenant Windward hoa.r.s.ely. 'And she calls herself a civilised woman! But how did she manage to get hold of you, miss?'

'Well: when I was seven my father sent me to school in Queen's Square. In the other Bath in England. Lyonesse ought to be safe enough; but, my father thought, best take no chances. So I went to school for nine years. And on the way back my s.h.i.+p was captured by pirates. Pirates? They were in Ginevra's pay; her watch-dogs. Those three witches of hers throw their net far afield. And a king's daughter, by their reckoning, is worth far more than any ordinary girl. Her bones give six months of life; mine, who knows how long? Six years, perhaps .. .'

'Bones?' whispered Mr Multiple, who, now that the fire was burning well, had been drawn by the sound of Elen's level voice.

'Thrown into the lake. Eaten by Sul's sacred fish. Then the bones are made into a paste, which, eaten daily by Genevra, has preserved her life for many hundreds of years.'

Dido thought of the fat queen, lolling on her couch, languidly tasting white thick porridge from a silver dish. My reflection, she thought suddenly. I wonder if it ever came back like those watches beginning to go again? But even if it didn't better lose your reflection than be thrown into Arianrod for the fish to munch and then have your bones ground up into porridge.

'That was why your dad pinched the lake, then?' she said. 'So you couldn't be thrown in? He guessed the queen musta got you?'

'Did he steal the lake?' A warm ripple of affection came into Elen's voice. 'Clever father! He knew that would put a stone in her shoe!'

'So then she called in the British Navy,' said Windward. 'I begin to see . . . But how could she hope to make King Mabon return the lake so long as she held you, Princess?'

'Because,' said Dido, 'she hoped as I'd let on to be the princess, and that King Mabon 'ud be fooled. That was why she didn't make me into porridge. Though I reckon she was fair itching to. But why were you left in that cave, Ma'am? Princess?'

'Oh, pray call me Elen. All the girls at Miss Castelreagh's Academy did so. I was left in the cave because the sacrifice has to be made at a particular time of the month, when the new moon holds the old one in its arms. Lady Ettarde and those other women put me there. And the Guardian used to come every day or so to feed me . .. when he remembered. He will not be best pleased when he finds that I have escaped. Ginevra will probably have him thrown in the lake. Oh, no, I forget; there is no lake. She must have been growing desperate. . .'

Elen's eyes widened. The fire had now burned up into a good blaze and, for the first time, she had noticed Mr Holystone, who stood gazing at the flames with a puzzled frown creasing his brow, as if he were groping in his mind for the verse of some ancient rhyme which continually escaped him.

Elen said, 'But why is my cousin Gwydion with you? And why is he so silent?'

'Gwydion?' said Dido. Her eyes followed Elen's to the silent figure by the fire.

'Gwydion,' repeated Elen. 'I recognised him at once. Though he has grown a beard, which suits him very well and it is a long time since we used to play as children. He used to carve me dolls from sigse wood. He is the son the adopted son of my uncle Huw Ccapac. Atahallpa, they called him in Hy Brasil, but father always called him Gwydion. How are you, cousin?'

'No, Madam,' said a new voice, which made them all, Holystone included, turn hastily towards the doorway, 'he is not your cousin. He is of more ancient lineage than you reckon.'

Framed in the entrance stood a strange figure what seemed at first sight to be a walking s...o...b..ll, but proved, when he had shaken himself, to be a dwarfish little man, hardly more than three feet high, with white hair and deep dark eyes and a long hooked nose. He threw off the snow-caked toga which he had wrapped round him, and stumped forward, giving his unbidden guests some very unwelcoming looks, and stopping in front of Mr Holystone to launch at him a stare of particular dislike while apparently making an inventory of every detail of his appearance, from the gold-brown beard, bronzed skin, and quiet grey eyes, to the birth-mark on his right forearm and the hand which still clasped the hilt of the sword Caliburn. Splitting the rock had cleaned the rust from the swordblade; it now shone green and deadly; more light than was reflected from the fire seemed to play up and down the blade.

'I beg your pardon are you the Guardian Caradog?' broke in Lieutenant Windward briskly, feeling that some explanation was owing to their reluctant host. 'Ahem! Excuse me! I have a permit here, signed by Queen Ginevra, for travel through the Gate of Nimue and on to Lyonesse '

'Yes, yes, yes, I know all about that,' testily answered the Guardian. 'I was expecting you last night, my sister had informed me of your intentions.'

He spoke as if their journey seemed to him a tiresome fidget about a trifle, and went on, ignoring Windward and addressing Holystone, 'But why trouble King Mabon about the lake, my lord, since you are already returned to us? What need to visit Lyonesse? Will you not rather return to your capital of Bath Regis?'

'Gwydion's capital?' exclaimed Elen. 'Gracious me, whom do you take him for?'

'Why, who should he be but the Pendragon? He is Mercurious Artaius, true son of Uther. Let me be the first to salute you, lord, Rex Quondam et Vivens, High King of New c.u.mbria, Lyonesse and Hy Brasil,' said Caradog, not sounding in the least pleased about it, but going rather creakily and grumpily down on one knee nevertheless, to kiss Mr Holystone's hand, which still rested on the hilt of the sword Caliburn. 'Ave rege! Vivat rex!'

The party from the Thrush stared at one another, dumbstruck.

Elen exclaimed, 'Gwydion? Can this be true? Or is the old man joking? Are you can you really be the Pendragon?'

Holystone looked down at the sword in his hand. He said slowly, 'Yes, it is true. I am beginning to remember it all -the battle by the winter sea, and how the queens came in a boat across the lake, and carried me away, and cast me into a sleep.'

'In the Isle of Avilion,' confirmed Caradog. He added rather sourly, 'Your lady wife will be very happy to have you restored to her. She has waited and sorrowed for you these many hundreds of years.'

'Wife?' exclaimed Dido in horror. 'D'you mean that Mr Holystone is married to that murdering old hag of a queen in Bath? Who's been killing off girls right, left and rat's ramble, just so she could stay alive longer than ordinary folk?'

'Finis coronet opus,' said Caradog.

'What's that mean, mister Guardian?'

'It means, the end justifies the means.'

'No it certainly don't! What do you think, Mr Holy? King What'syourname? If you really are him? Do you think it's right for that fat queen to stay alive by having poor girls chucked into the lake? Why, she was fixing to chuck Elen here, if we hadn't turned up '

Mr Holystone appeared deeply troubled. Frowning perplexedly at Dido, he said, 'Who are you, child? Why do I seem to know you? And what can you know of these high matters?'

It was evident that the three separate parts of his existence had not yet dovetailed together.

'Oh, blimey!' said Dido, hurt and cross. She felt extremely upset, but tried not to show it. However she couldn't help adding, 'When I think of all the times I fed Dora and taught you the Battersea Basket and how you used to put c.o.c.kroach lotion on my toes '

At the same instant Elen exclaimed in a tone of horror, as though the reality had been gradually dawning on her, 'You mean my cousin Gwydion is married to that wicked woman to Queen Ginevra?'

'Was, was, in a former life,' corrected Caradog fussily. 'And as, although he has been reborn, she has remained alive, of course the marriage is still valid. Any court of law would uphold it. Not to mention the ties of honour and obligation since she has faithfully waited for him so many hundreds of years.'

'I don't see how honour could tie him to somebody who's been eating people's bones all that time!'

'Really, Miss Twite, I feel this is none of your of our business!' exclaimed Lieutenant Windward.

'Our business is to fetch the lake back and have Cap'n Hughes let out of the pokey,' pointed out Mr Multiple matter-of-factly. 'And then to get h.e.l.l-for-leather out o' this infernal country,' he added under his breath, rattling the diamonds in his pocket.