CHAPTER XXIII
AURI MOLES PRAEGRANDIS
Pabo rose to his feet at once. He had seen, he had touched the gold. Thewax taper had dropped from his hand as he fell. He groped for it andsoon found it. Then he put his hand to his pouch for flint and steel.They were not there. He searched the breast of his tunic. They were notthere either. Then he passed his hand over the floor, thinking that hemight have dropped them from his pouch when he fell. As yet he was notalarmed, rather concerned, as he was impatient to see the treasure.Kneeling, he groped on all sides of him, but could not find what hesought. His hand touched ingots; that he knew by their shape, and thatthey were of gold he was assured by the yellow glint when his wax lightfell.
Still bending on one knee, and with a hand on the ground, he began toconsider what could have become of flint and steel. Was it possiblethat he had left them outside the "Ogof" when he lighted the taper? Heracked his brain. He distinctly recalled the kindling of the wick. Hecould not remember having replaced the flint, steel, and tinder in hispouch. It might have occurred that flint or steel had fallen out when hestumbled, or even when he leaped the chasm, but not that tinder as wellshould have gone. He knew that whilst engaged in kindling the taper hehad placed the now missing articles on a stone just within the entrance.There they might be still. He must have forgotten to replace them in hispurse. Forgotten those things most necessary to him in the mine! Onlyconceivable through the occupation of his thoughts over the treasure, inquest of which he was venturing. He had found the treasure, but now waswithout the means of mustering it, even of seeing it.
Again he groped about the floor, in desperation, hoping againstconviction that the flint, steel, and tinder might be lying there. Hishands passed over the cold damp rock; it was in vain; and weariness atlength compelled him to desist. Now only did the whole horror of hissituation lighten on him. The chasm lay between him and his way back. Hemight, possibly enough, by feeling, find the passage by which he hadentered; but how could he traverse that awful abyss? He was buriedalive.
He sat in the darkness listening.
He heard no sound whatever, save at long intervals a drip of water.
He stared into the blackness of night that surrounded him, but could seenot the faintest trace of light. And yet--not at any great distance wasthe hall into which a pearly ray fell from an orifice above; but betweenhim and the spot of light lay the well.
Were it not better to essay to return, and risk the headlong fall intothat gulf, than to sit there in darkness, in solitude, till death bystarvation came on him, and hear the slow ticking of the falling drops?
What chance of rescue had he?
True that he had sent word to his wife to meet him at the Ogofau--thecaves, in the plural, not to seek for him in the one Ogof, in thesingular, that was specially dreaded as the haunt of Gwen, and the placewhere slept the Five Saints.
Would his wife think of seeking him therein? Could she possibly ventureso far from the light? It was not credible.
He tried to rise, but his limbs were stiff, and he shivered as withcold.
Cautiously, with extended hands, he groped for the wall, and finallyreached it. Then, passing them along, he felt his way towards theopening to the passage. But as to his direction, of that he knewnothing, could form no conjecture. While searching for his kindlingtools, he had turned himself about and lost every inkling as to thecourse by which he had entered.
After a while his right hand no longer encountered rock, and steppingsideways, he held with his left hand to the wall and stretched forth theright, but felt nothing. Letting go, but with reluctance, he movedanother step sideways and now touched rock again.
He had found the passage, and he took a few steps down it, drawing hishand along the side. He put forth the right foot, feeling the floor lesthe should come unawares on the chasm. So he crept on, but whether hewere going forward in a straight line or was describing a curve, he didnot know. His brain was in a whirl. Then he struck his head against aprong of rock that descended from above, and reeled back and fell.
For a while, without being completely stunned, he lay in halfconsciousness. His desperate condition filled him with horror.
What if he did find his way to the ledge of the well? Could he leap it?If he made the attempt, he did not know in which direction to spring; hemight bound, dash himself against the rock, and go reeling down into thegulf. But even to make such a leap he must take a few strides to acquiresufficient impetus. How measure his strides in the pitch darkness? Howbe sure that he did not leap too precipitately and not land at all, butgo down whirling into the depths? And there was something inexpressiblyhideous in the thought of lying dead below, sopping in water at thebottom of that abyss--sopping till his flesh parted from the bones, awayfrom the light, his fate unknown to his wife, his carcass there to lietill Doomsday.
Partly due to the blow he had received, partly to desperation, his mindbecame confused. Strange thoughts came over him. He seemed to acquirevision, and to behold the Five Saints lying in a niche before him, withtheir heads on a long stone. They were very old, and their faces coveredwith mildew. Their silver beards had grown and covered them likeblankets. One had his hand laid on the ground, and the fingers werelike stag's-horn lichen.
Then the one saint raised this white hand, passed it over his face,opened his eyes, and sat up.
"Brothers," said he, in a faint small voice, "let us turn our pillow."
Thereat the other four sat up, and the one who had roused his brethrensaid: "See--we have worn holes in the stone with our heads. We will turnour pillow."
And in verity there were five cup-like depressions in the stone. Thenthe old Saint reversed the stone, and at once all four laid their headson it again and went again to sleep. The fifth also relaid his head onthe stone, and immediately his eyes closed.
Then it was to Pabo as though he saw a white face peeping round a cornerof rock; and this was followed by a form--thin, vaporous, clad inflowing white robes.
"Gwen! Gwen!" he cried, starting up. "You--you know a way forth! Youleave in thunder and storm. Let me hold to your skirts, and draw me fromthis pit of darkness!"
But with his cries the phantasm had vanished. His eyes were staringinto pitch darkness, in which not even a spectral form moved.
And still--he heard at long-drawn intervals the drip, drip of water.
Again he sank back into half-consciousness, and once more his troubledbrain conjured up fantastic visions.
He thought himself once again in the cave at Careg Cennen, and that thebeautiful Nest came to him. Somehow, he confused her with Gwen. Sheseemed also to be vaporous--all but her face and her radiant goldenhair. What eyes she had, and how they flashed and glowed as she spoke ofthe wrongs done to her country and to her people!
He thought she spoke to him, and said: "Oh, Pabo, Pabo, I have trustedin thee! My brother, he is raising all Cymraig peoples. Take to him thetreasure of the old Romans. With that he will buy harness, and swords,and spears, and will call over and enroll levies from Ireland. With goldhe will bribe, and get admission to castles he cannot break up. Withgold he will get fleets to sail up the Severn Sea and harass the enemyas they venture along the levels of Morganwg. See, see, I have giventhee the bracelet of Maxen the Emperor! It is a solemn trust. Bear itto him; let it not be lost here in the bowels of the earth!"
And again he started with a cry and said: "Help, help, Princess Nest! Methou didst draw out of the dungeon. Me thou didst bring up out of thecave. Deliver me now!"
And again all was blackness, and there was no answer. Still continuedthe monotonous drip. Then Pabo bit his tongue, and resolved by no meansto suffer himself to fall away into these trances again. With strongresolution he fought with phantom figures as they rose before his eyes,with drowsiness as it crept over his brain, with whispers and mutteringsthat sounded in his ears.
How long the time was that passed he knew not. He might have counted thedrips of water, yet knew not the length of each interval between thefalling of
the drops.
He forcibly turned his mind to Morwen, and wondered what would become ofher. Howel he trusted to do his uttermost, but Howel would have beenhung but for his opportune return.
Then his mind turned to the prospects of down-trampled Wales; to thechances of Griffith--to the defection and treachery of the King ofNorth Wales; to the discouragement that had followed the abortiveattempt of Owen ap Cadogan. But Owen had been a man false of heart,seeking only his selfish ends; without one spark of loyalty to hisnation. Far other was Griffith. His beauty, his open manner, his winningaddress, were matched with a character true, brave, and sympathetic. Inhim the people had a leader in whom they could trust. And yet what wouldbe his chances against the overwhelming power of England and Normandy?
Before Pabo's eyes, as they closed unconsciously, clouds seemed todescend, overspread and darken his beautiful land. He saw again andagain devastation sweep it. He saw alien nobles and alien prelatesfasten on it and suck its resources like leeches. There passed beforehim, as it were, wave on wave of darkness, fire, and blood. Andthen--suddenly a spark, a flame, a blaze, and in it a Welsh princemounting the English throne, one of the blood of Cunedda--the ancestorof the Saint of Caio, their loved Cynwyl. The lions! the black lions ofCambria waving over the throne of England!
Pabo started with a thrill of triumph, but it was to hear a shriek,piercing, harsh, horrible, ring through the vault, followed by crash,crash, again a dull thud--and a splash.
Thereon all was silent.
Dazed in mind, unaware whether he were dreaming still, or whether whathe had heard were real, with every nerve quivering, with his bloodfluttering in his temples, at his heart, he shut his eyes, clutched theground, and held his breath.
And then--next moment a flash--and a cry--"Pabo!"
He opened his eyes--but saw nothing, only light. But he felt arms abouthim, felt his head drawn to a soft and throbbing bosom, felt warm tearsdropping on his face.
"Pabo! oh, my Pabo! it was not you!"
By degrees his faculties returned.
Then he saw before him Howel bearing a horn lantern; but he felt hecould not see her who had folded him in her arms and was sobbing overhim.
"We have found you," said Howel. "But for her I would not have dared toenter. Yet she would have gone alone. She saw thy flint and steel on astone at the entrance. She was full of fear, and left me no rest till Iagreed to accompany her. Tell me, what was that fearful cry?"
"I know not. The place is full of phantoms."
"Was there none with thee?"
"None. Were ye alone?"
"We were alone."
"Then it was the cry of Gwen, or of some evil spirit. And oh! Howel._Auri moles praegrandis._"
"I understand not."
"Come and see."
Pabo started to his feet now, disengaging himself gently from the armsof his wife; but not relaxing the hold of her hand which he clasped.
A few steps were retraced to the hall, and there lay the fallen waxtaper, and there, piled up, were ingots of gold.
"See!" exclaimed Pabo. "For Griffith ap Rhys. With this--at lastsomething may be done."
Howel passed his lantern over it meditatively.
"Yes," he said, "it is just what has been the one thing that has failedus hitherto."
"Not the only thing; the other--a true man."
"Right. We have here the means of success, and in Griffith--the trueleader."
"Come!" said Pabo. "I must to the light. I am weary of darkness."
He rekindled his wax taper at Howel's light, and all proceeded on theirway; and before many minutes had elapsed were in the domed chamber,traversed from above by a tiny ray of moonlight.
Pabo stood still. His head spun.
"But the well! the well!"
His wife and Howel looked at him with surprise.
"How came you to me? How did you pass the chasm?"
"There was no chasm. We have returned as we went."
Pabo clasped his head.
"There is a well. I leaped it. I feared to fall into it."
Then all at once, clear before him stood the plan as drawn by thehermit. From the chamber where light was there were two passages leadingto the treasure--one had it in the well--that was the turn to the right,and the direction had been to go to the left. He who had seen the maphad gone wrong. They who had never seen it went right. But, we may ask,what was that cry? From whom did it issue?
All that can be said is this: Goronwy, after having given the message,watched curiously, and saw Morwen go to the house of Howel. Had he notbeen inquisitive to know the meaning of the meeting in Ogofau, he wouldhave betrayed her at once to Rogier. As it was, he resolved to followand observe, unseen.
He had done so, and at a distance, after Howel and Morwen, he hadentered the mine.
More cannot be said.
Goronwy was never seen again.