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Updated: June 9, 2025
I must say that it went against the grain for me to believe that Mara had aught to do with contriving my end through her maid, but unless there was some crafty hand at work in the background, all unsuspected, it seemed that there could be none else. And then one day I found the little letter that Nona had sent me. In that I was warned against Morfed the Cornish priest, and I had forgotten him.
I had almost a mind to follow them, for I thought that their way led to Owen, but I dared not leave Morfed to go elsewhere. This might only be a plan to lead us astray. So I was left with Morfed the priest, and he did not offer to follow his men, but stood and faced me with eyes that gleamed with the fire of wrath or madness, or both.
"Let him be," he said in a whisper. "It is ill to anger a crazed man. Surely he will tell what we need soon." But beside him Evan seemed to be shrinking as in terror. I suppose the Briton has old memories of the Druids of past days which yet bid him fear them. "Hearken to me, and heed them not," sang Morfed in words that I could understand. "Hearken, for you have much to learn."
He led us along the path, which I suppose his own feet and those of Morfed had worn, unless it was old as the menhir itself, and on the way he said suddenly: "Let me ask one thing of you. Has the menhir fallen?" "Ay, with the cross graven on it," I answered; and my words checked a laugh that was on Evan's lips. "I knew it. I heard the crash," the man said. "That is an end therefore."
I answered that indeed I hoped that it would prove so, and then asked for Morfed, the priest who had crossed with us, as I did not see him among the other clergy at the table. She told me that he had left them, on foot, at the gate of Watchet, making his way westward, as she believed. He had only joined their party for easier travelling in Dyfed.
But what Morfed saw told him that midday had come and was passing; and all that meant to him, beyond that the time for some rite had been forgotten, I cannot tell. There came from his lips a cry that was of terror and of sorrow as I thought, and the adder lifted its head from its lapping and coiled itself menacingly.
Only its head was raised a little, and it swayed as in time to the chant of the priest, while the long forked tongue flickered forth now and then restlessly. But Morfed went on with his song and his waving, seeming to try to draw my look back to him, and I noted, as I glanced again at him, that a shade of doubt crossed his face, and at that a new thought came to me.
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."
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."
And at that I thought they might be going to where Owen was, and that they would harm him. "Quick, Evan," I said; "follow them. See where they go." "Ay, follow them," said Morfed. "Now I care not what befalls." And with that he raised his voice and called somewhat to the men, and they quickened their pace into the glen.
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