Then I will go hence and leave you to work what you
will here. I had no wish to disturb your rites, whatsoever they
were. If aught has happened amiss, it was your own fault, not mine.
Your own deed brought me here."
But he paid not the least heed to me, and yet I thought that he
tried to put me off, as it were, by seeming wrapt in thoughts.
"Surely it should have fallen on this day that sees the end, even
as runs the ancient prophecy--'When the pool shall whelm the stone,
Druid rite and chant are done.' But it has not fallen, and the end
is not yet. But what shall amend this fault?"
I had listened for some sound from Howel and Evan, but since the
footsteps passed up the glen I had heard none until this moment.
Then came one cry from far upward, and silence thereafter. Morfed
heard it and looked up, setting at the same time his hand on the
edge of the altar stone.
The golden sickle flashed as he did so, and at that, swift as the
flash itself, the adder stiffened its coils, and its head flew
back, baring the long fangs, and twice it struck the hand deeply.
"I am answered," Morfed said quietly. "My life shall amend."
But he never moved his hand, and the adder swiftly slid from off
the stone and sought some hiding place in the loose rocks at the
cliff foot, and the priest watched it go, motionless.
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