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Updated: May 9, 2025
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."
Truly, I have even now asked my neighbour, Father Morfed, if it is fairly rendered, but I have not had his answer yet." He ran his hand over the already tuned strings, and lifted his voice and began. It was not the first time that he had handled a British harp, by any means, but if he played well he sang better.
On his bare right arm was a coiled golden bracelet, and a heavy golden torque was round his neck, and a great golden brooch knit up the folds of his flowing white cloak on his right shoulder. But for all this strange dress I knew him, and he was Morfed the priest, and I heard Howel mutter the name also.
We waited, both of us, as I think, to hear if any sound beyond the lessening footfalls came from the water course, but they died away upward, and there was still no word between us. Then I thought that I would try one more plan with him. "Morfed," I said, "take me to Owen, and I will pledge my word that Gerent shall seek no revenge for what has been done by you." "What I have done!" he broke out.
I think it was so for Howel also, for once in the night he stirred and spoke my name softly, and finding that I waked he said: "I know why that girl of Mara's would not tell who set her on you. It is not like a maid to be sparing with her mistress' secrets, and Morfed is at the back of it. It is his work, and he laid a curse on the girl if she told who sent her.
Truly, the face of Morfed was black as thunder, while that of the Norseman was shining with delight in some long-winded story he was telling. The white-robed servants were clearing the tables at this moment, and the prince's bard, a fine old harper with golden collar and chain, was tuning his little gilded harp as if the time for song had come. "Make him sing," said Nona.
"And also I am sure that at the bottom of all the matter is Morfed the priest." "It was a needed warning against him that I had from your hand, Princess," I said; "now let me thank you for it." "I am glad you had it safely, for indeed I feared for you with those people on the ship with you. What has become of them?" I told her the fate of Dunwal, so far as I knew it.
Now the old king told me all that I had heard from his thane already, and I must tell what I thought thereof, and that was little enough beyond what I have said, and at last, when he seemed to wait for me to ask him more, I put a question that had come into my mind as I rode, and asked if there might be any chance of Morfed the priest having a hand in the matter.
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.
I have seen that which tells me that he is near, but there are yet things that I must learn of how he came and where he lies." But Morfed seemed to heed me not at all as I spoke.
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