"Ask yon
Saxon if his Yule feast is less sacred to him now because it is not
so long since that it was Woden's. Is tomorrow less Midsummer Day
because it is the day of St. John? Hold your peace thereon, and go
hence while I suffer you."
At that I glanced at the mouth of the valley whence we came, half
looking to see it blocked by men, but it was not. There was nothing
to stay us three armed men in this place, with but three against
us, and they well-nigh defenceless. Morfed saw that glance and
laughed.
"The Druid has other arms than those of steel," he said, and he
drew slowly from the wide cincture round his waist a little golden
sickle and balanced it in his hand before me, flashing it to and
fro.
Now I was sure that he was crazed in all truth, and I would speak
him fair that I might learn what he would tell me. Howel was
silent, seeming to look curiously at the golden toy in the priest's
hand, as it shifted restlessly backward and forward.
"We have come hither to pry into no ancient rites, Morfed," I said.
"Tell me what you know of Owen the prince, my foster father, and we
will go hence. I have seen that which tells me that he is near, but
there are yet things that I must learn of how he came and where he
lies."
But Morfed seemed to heed me not at all as I spoke. Only, he kept
moving the little sickle which Howel watched, and its glancings
drew my eyes to it in spite of myself, for overhead the sky was
clearing somewhat and the sun was trying to break through, and the
gold shone brightly.
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