The Bretland Trilogy

Chapter 3-2

Thank God!His task was to put his hands into what had moments before been footholds. He accomplished this to return to the familiar stressful bent position. Still, with his increased confidence, he repeated the manoeuvre several times until, to his surprise, his right foot touched the cave floor.

He dropped down silently onto his leather soles, and to stop his knees shaking uncontrollably now he had relaxed, he sat on the floor with his back to the wall.

“Are you all right down there?” came Cadfael’s worried voice.

“Ay, I’ve reached the bottom,” his voice thundered deafeningly in the enclosed space. At last, he felt secure enough to look around. His impression of light from above had been correct. It was gloomy in the cave, but to the right of his position, there was a c***k of light that enabled him to see at least that side of the small chamber. He stood uncertainly and realised that ahead of him was a low ceiling, the cave roof, so he had descended a shaft of sorts. Ducking, he entered the cave proper and tried to imagine the solitary nun entombed there centuries before, maybe with a bed of blankets and little else. What would she have eaten down here? Every kind of conjecture filled his mind as he bent to reach the source of light. It was a small fissure in the cliff face close to the cave floor.

Lying on his stomach, he put his eye to the gap and peered out over the sea, thankful that it wasn’t a bright sunny day, or the contrast might have blinded him. Yet, as he withdrew his head and turned to sit up and look into the gloomy cave—she must have used candles—an idea came to him. He could use his tinderbox for a moment. Even a few seconds of light might allow him to glance around.

He took it from his tunic pocket and, using the iron, struck sparks off the flint. In moments, the tinder caught as he blew on it. The weak flame wouldn’t last long, for the tinder was little, and there was nothing in the cave to set alight. It was enough, because the flickering flame cast a glow that reflected from something on the floor. Holding his breath, Alun moved the flame close to the sparkling object. There it was! Pale and bright. His hand closed over it and lifted it close to his eye.

This quartz was what they had come for—a crystal! He repeated the riddle:

I’m as old as the hills

I’m as old as the hillsAs clear and hard as glass,

As clear and hard as glass,Sand and salt are my kin

Sand and salt are my kinAlthough water cannot devour me.

Although water cannot devour me.The rock embraces me

The rock embraces meYet, I am not he.

Yet, I am not he.In common, we are hard to cleave.

In common, we are hard to cleave.What am I?

What am I?“A crystal!” he shouted triumphantly. All was now clear. He thrust his trophy into his pocket with the tinderbox when he’d tipped out the smouldering ashes. He would examine the crystal with Cadfael as soon as he could. Now, to face the terrible climb.

For a moment or two, he stood fearful, gazing up at the small circle of light where he knew his friend awaited him. The opening must be thirty feet above my head. I haven’t come this far to slip and break my bones. I have the crystal. He took it from his pocket, noticing his hands shaking with fear. Without thinking, he closed his eyes, bent his head over the crystal and prayed to Saint Dwynwen for help. Did he imagine it? Or momentarily had the strange rock emanated a brilliant shaft of light? It penetrated his closed eyelids as a red light. No, I must have imagined it! He replaced the crystal in his pocket, suddenly feeling vigorous and able to climb.

The opening must be thirty feet above my head. I haven’t come this far to slip and break my bones. I have the crystal.No, I must have imagined it! How did Myrddin know about—? his mind raced with unanswerable questions even as he sought the first foothold. He levered himself up and gratefully found a handhold. Gaining confidence, he climbed hand over foot more securely than he had descended. As his sureness increased, he made the mistake of looking down. Now he was grateful for the weak light of the dull day. He felt sure that if the cave had been better lit, he would have suffered vertigo and fallen. As it was, he regained his nerve and slowly but surely drew nearer to the cave opening.

How did Myrddin know about—?“Cadfael, give me a hand!”

The silhouette of his friend’s head appeared, and a hand groped for his. Alun saw and clasped it. Cadfael didn’t wait for him to be ready but heaved. The effect was disastrous. Alun’s right foot slipped, Cadfael almost lost him but bracing himself against the unexpected weight, used his other hand to grasp the same wrist and haul upwards, throwing his body backwards simultaneously. It gave Alun the chance to find another foothold, slightly higher, taking all the deadweight from his friend, who now leant in and grasped Alun under the armpits. “Come on! Let’s be having you, brother!” Between them, Alun planted his hands on the ground and levering himself out into the blessed fresh air, gasping with the effort.

“God knows how that little nun managed to go up and down there,” he said breathlessly.

“You don’t know that she was small of build,” Cadfael said reasonably, grinning down at his supine companion. “She might have been taller than you.”

“Not judging by the handholds,” Alun contradicted him with certainty. “Anyway, I’ve solved the riddle.” He repeated it slowly. He paused for effect. What am I?

What am I?“Go on!” Cadfael said irritably.

“A crystal!” came the gleeful reply.

“That makes sense, but how did you work it out?”

“Because I found this in the cave!”

He sat up and with a flourish, produced the creamy-coloured quartz, turning it in his hand, making it appear a pale-rose pink one moment, then reversing it to a pale violet tint, more a hint of colour than an actual hue.

“It’s beautiful. I wonder if the saint found it down there?”

She probably did,” Alun accepted, but his brow creased, and he looked puzzled.

“What?”

“I wonder why it’s so crucial to the future of our people? That’s what Myrddin said.”

crucial“So, he did! The only thing certain about Myrddin is uncertainty! We should return to him as quickly as possible and entrust the crystal to his safe hands. It’s incredible to think he knew it was here and sent us to fetch it. After all, it’s been hidden underground for centuries, and I guess the last person before you to touch it was Saint Dwynwen.”

“I hope it brings me luck in love!”

“As long as it doesn’t bring you Rhonwen, I’ll second your wish.”

“Don’t worry, she isn’t my heart’s desire—she’s yours!”

They retraced their route to the ferry, jesting about love so that by mid-afternoon, a weary Alun ap Drystan raised the horn to his lips and blew three shrill blasts. As he lowered the horn on its short chain to rest gently against its post, he couldn’t help but think that their successful mission was, in some strange way, portentous. He couldn’t wait to hand the crystal to Myrddin to reveal the secret. Silently, he prayed to Saint Dwynwen to watch over them on their return journey.