If not, I only know this, that he would
never have been seen in this land again. There was a thought of
carrying him even across the sea to the Britons in the south--in
Gaul. But of all things Morfed hoped that he would die here."
So I supposed, but I said no more, for Evan and the men reined up
close to us. There was joy enough among them all as Owen was slowly
and carefully laid on the rough litter. And we left those two
staring after us, silent. But I suppose that the terror of that
strange place will still lie on all the countryside, and I hold
that since the day when the wizards of old time reared the menhir
on that which it covered, with cruel rites and terrible words that
have bided in the minds of men as a terror will bide, no man but
such as Morfed has dared to pry into that valley lest the ancient
curse should fall on them--the curse of the Druid who would hide
his secrets. It may be, therefore, that it will not be known by the
folk that the menhir has fallen, even yet, for we who did know it
told them nought thereof.
As for that falling, it is the saying of Howel that it was wrought
by the might of the holy sign, and maybe he is not so far wrong in
a way. For if the slow creeping of the bog had at last undermined
the base of the tall stone so that it needed but little to disturb
its balance, no wind could reach it in that cliff-walled place even
in the wildest gale, and it is likely that no hand but mine had
touched it for long ages.
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