It was a little thing, and Christian, and I thought
that maybe he had come to himself from the madness of which men
spoke. Yet though it seemed long that Howel was away, and I longed
to follow him, I dared not leave this man, seeing that for all I
knew Owen was somewhere close at hand, and it was not to be known
what this priest might do in his despair. Howel and Evan might be
following the men yet into some hiding place.
I set the point of my weapon to the stone and went to work, graving
the upright stem of the cross first, thinking that Morfed would
speak when he saw that I was indeed doing as he asked me. The stone
was softer than I expected, and surely was not of the granite of
the cliffs around, but had been brought from far, else I could not
have marked it at all. Yet I had to lean heavily on my seax as I
cut, and it was no light task, as I stood sidewise that I might not
lose sight of Morfed.
"I die," he said presently. "There will be none left who may bring
back the ancient secrets hither from the land of the Cymro. See,
this is an end."
He rose up, staggering a little, and cast the golden sickle from
him into the pool with a light eddying splash, as if it skimmed the
surface ere it sank, but I did not look at it, and that was well
for me. I saw his hand fly to his breast, as the hands of his men
had gone for their weapons when they first saw us, and I knew what
was coming.
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