At that cry Morfed started and half turned. But I had more to ask
him, and I spoke sternly. Behind me was a rattle of arms, as if
Howel would have stayed him.
"Morfed," I said, "you have yet to tell me where Owen, the prince,
is hidden. If you would finish what you are about here, tell me
straightway, or bid one of these men shew me, or we will stay all
this wizardry."
Maybe I spoke more boldly than I felt, for indeed the whole
business and the place made all seem uncanny. I know that my
comrades feared it all.
But now Morfed heeded my word no longer. Slowly at last he turned
away, and now he must needs look back toward the altar stone and
the menhir in turning, and the sight of them seemed to bring to his
mind what work he had here, so that in a moment I was forgotten,
and he sprang past me toward his attendants, one of whom was
pointing silently, but with a white face, to the shadow of the
menhir. And I saw that now it touched the stone and crept up on its
surface for an inch or less.
I suppose that tomorrow that shadow would be so much shorter, and
would not lie on the flat top of the stone at all. Then for a
little space the sun would seem to one at the back of the altar to
stand on the menhir's top, while all the stone and the bowl where
the adder lay was in full light, even as men say the sun seems to
stand on the great stone of Stonehenge on Midsummer Day at its
rising.
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