Duncton Found (47 page)

“I explained what happened to him,” said Caradoc quickly, “and he believes me.”

“And you reached the sacred Stones of Tryfan, Glyder?” asked Alder.

“I did, but I thought nomole would believe me.”

He looked at Caradoc again and neither mole spoke.

“There is much to say, much to discuss,” said Alder as the others came down the slope wondering what the delay was.

“It is for this I’ve come back to Siabod,” said Glyder simply.

“For what?” asked Troedfach in puzzlement as he reached them.

Glyder stretched out an ancient paw and gripped Troedfach’s own paw with it and fixed a piercing gaze on him.

“Not for bloody talons, mole, nor for wasteful struggles, but to tell you of a vision that I saw and cannot forget.” Then he added in a lighter voice, “But first I’ll hear of what changes there have been, and how the grikes were driven off; and I’ll eat; and if I’ve the strength I’ll sing an old Siabod song or two when night comes and then....”

“What then?” asked one of the awed youngsters eagerly.

“Why, mole, if there’s time I’ll do what Siabod moles do when there’s nothing left to do and nomole else to fight with talon or word – I’ll go to sleep!”

There was a great cheer at this, and when they had all paid their respects to the old mole they led him upslope into the tunnels of Siabod to sing of the past, and talk of the future.

Gowre’s arrival had created excitement, but Glyder’s appearance the next morning at the final session of the conclave caused a sensation. There was something dramatic and Siabodian about his reappearance, and long before the session started the great chamber was packed with moles.

He came in slowly, supported by Gowre, his one remaining relative, muttering and complaining to himself and undaunted by the sight of so many moles.

Silence fell as he looked irritably about him and, leaning on Gowre even more, he ascended to the higher part of the chamber. The whisper went round, “’Tis indeed Glyder! Still alive!” and before Alder could say much by way of introduction or explanation Glyder himself growled, “Yes, ’tis Glyder of the sons of Rebecca, Glyder who turned his back on fighting and struggle, Glyder who has been eating the scrawny worms of the Ogwen in a silence that would do some of you no harm. I’ve come back, see? And shall I tell you why?

“One reason was to see a mole and that I’ve done, that I’ve done.” He smiled, his eyes gentle suddenly, and the few who were close enough saw him exchange a glance with Caradoc.

“Also because I wanted to tell whatever moles I found here something. Didn’t expect to find a conclave, but that’s the Stone’s will. I’ll say what I must once and that’s that. If just one of you remembers it, if one of you passes it on, it’ll be enough.”

He fell silent, thinking, but when eventually he did speak it was quite suddenly and passionately.

“Ogwen’s not a place a mole goes to improve his physical health. It’s cold and mostly wormless and a mole has to work hard to stay alive. The sun rises late up there and stays on the sides of the mountains where a mole can’t easily reach it. When it comes down into the cwms at midday it’s not there for long, and in any one place barely at all.

“Yet I was glad enough to get there after my brothers died, glad to be alone. Lead a system like Siabod for long enough through times like these and you get tired of talking and struggling and fighting. So tired that most moles die of it – that and the cold.

“I expected to die in the winter years. Would have suited me. Old mole, seen a lot, done a lot, last of his generation. Glad to go. Sometimes in the dark times I cried out to the Stone, “Let me die now, Stone, let me hear the Silence! You’ve had my brothers, my pups, almost all my kin, and now have me.” And I took stance beneath Tryfan and stared at the Stones, and let the rain and ice and snow hurt me. But I didn’t die. I felt like an old fool. Eventually I gave up offering myself and went off wandering Ogwen looking for worms. Not many about! Lost weight along with fur! Scraggy as a chick that’s fallen out of its nest.”

Glyder stretched out a scrawny paw and looked ruefully at it, and then round at his flank. His skin hung loose on him now as it does on a mole grown old who was large and muscular in his prime. Behind him in the gloom there was the hollow sound of water dripping among the slate faces.

“Lost track of time, I did, and sometimes I tried to work it out. I knew when summer started, though. The ice and snow thawed and the ground was wetter than a mole likes and water running underpaw. Brought the worms out that did, and drowned them along the ways. Flowers grew then among the wet, and where water dropped down the cwm sides all scattered by the wind, moss grew greener than any I’ve ever seen. Took to eating beetles then. In Ogwen moles can’t be choosy.

“Even the beetles didn’t stir my appetite when the warmer weather came. I stared at them and they stared at me and I looked up at the two sacred Stones on Tryfan and said, “There’s a beetle down here in Ogwen and he’s not worth much. What’s his name?” The Stones and the beetle knew!”

Glyder laughed to himself much as he must have done back in May. Then he pursed his mouth and shook his head.

“Slugs aren’t much to eat either, but as I said moles in Ogwen can’t be choosy. Ate a few and they didn’t seem to mind. Said to the Stones, “Who’s the lucky one, the slug or me? Who’ll get to the Silence first? The slug, that’s who. Why didn’t you tell me years ago the Silence was in my stomach?”

“Up in Ogwen the Stones’ voice is the wind and speaks better where the rocks rise sheer, and best where the Stones of Tryfan stand. I said to the Stones, “A mole could climb Tryfan if he tried. Especially a mole who was less than a beetle and a slug.” The Stones did not reply immediately but I knew they would soon enough. Always do in the end. The Stones let you know when you’re ready.

“Mid-June it was when the twofoot came clanking up the cwm. Scared the daylights out of me so I hid under the scree and felt it pass. Clank, clank up to where the green moss grew under the cliff that rises at the back of the nameless cwm. Silence. Even the ravens shut up. Stones spoke to me in the wind and I heard the twofoot fall, heard its cry. Like winter rock-fall in Castle y Gwynt its moans were. Went to see. Climbed up the green moss where the waterfalls dripped. Twofoot lay still. Paw bigger than my body and white and scented like over-ripe honeysuckle. Not nice. Paw bloody, and while I watched the blood turned from red to brown. Twofoot moaned and his gazes were on me, head big and furred.”

Glyder’s voice had dropped and he had half turned to stare at Caradoc, to whom his remarks seemed addressed. Sometimes he so far forgot where he was that he referred to himself as “Glyder” as if it was another mole he spoke of and not himself.

“Said to the Stones, “What shall I do?” and the Stones replied, “Watch over it.” So Glyder did, and he scented it dying. So twofoots die like us!

“When the first sun came on the cliffs above the twofoot stirred but his gaze was dimming. Said to the Stones, “Shall I pray for it like for a mole?” And the Stones said, “Like for a beetle, like for a slug.” Old Glyder felt joy then because he was not afraid any more. What’s there to be afraid of when you’re part of everything? That makes fear being afraid of yourself. So I prayed for the twofoot with dimming eyes. I went close, see, and when the sun came down on him his scent changed to nothing much and his eyes dimmed.

“That day Glyder started to climb Tryfan and touched the Stones. Saw moledom from the top, moledom where the twofoots live! Twofoots where us moles live....”

Glyder seemed unaware of the buzz of surprise and disbelief that went round the moles at his matter-of-fact statement that he had climbed Tryfan. Most seemed very doubtful that he could have meant what he said.

“Right to the top?” called out one of the younger Welsh Marches moles disrespectfully, looking around him with a knowing smile.

“’Tis what he said,” growled Troedfach and the titters died away, though a good few moles still looked dubious.

“Yes, yes,” said Glyder irritably, “but that wasn’t it, see? It was the twofoot.”

Most looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“
Needs
the Stone, like us. And beetles and slugs and all of us. But the twofoots... it’s where the future is, where the Silence will be found. I knew it when that twofoot’s gaze dimmed; I knew it on top of Tryfan where the wind was still. I know it now. It’s what I’ve come to tell you. It’s why the Stones kept me alive. Listen. There are many paths to Ogwen, all easy to find. But it’s taken me all the moleyears since June to find the way out again and that twofoot never did; so it’s got more to learn than we have. Stop the fighting, moles! Tell yourselves and your enemies the Silence will be found where the twofoots are. Aye, where the roaring owls go. Silence there for mole!”

“Death more like,” said a mole.

“Shush!” said others, for strange though Glyder’s words seemed there was a peaceful certainty about them.

“Listen,” he continued quietly and more slowly as if he had grown impatient with his audience and had little energy or desire to say much more. “A mole’s fortunate if he gets a quarter of what he wants in life, see?
Very
fortunate. When he reaches the end of his life as I have he’d best not regret a thing. No point in that! So he looks about and sees others making mistakes or making good and he thinks to himself he once went that way as well. He hopes others’ll do better than he did and if he’s a fool he’ll offer advice thinking others will take it. Or maybe he’ll just hope that some of these younger moles will get to do those things he never quite had time for, and good luck to them.”

Some of the moles were getting restless now, for Glyder’s speech had slowed and his mind seemed to be wandering. The old mole had said enough, whatever point he had tried to make he had made for long enough, and surely it was time he shut up and let them get on with more important things... But not all felt that way. Among those listening were those who felt that Glyder’s words were guided by the Stone and these were enough that they kept the others’ restlessness at bay.

“Moles,” he said urgently, “when I saw the twofoot’s gaze dim I heard the beginning of Silence. Turn your gaze towards where you most fear to look and there may be what you most wish to find.”

With this final comment Glyder fell silent as suddenly as he had begun and stared round at the moles about him. As his voice died his body seemed to shrink and grow smaller and Gowre had to stance firm again to hold him up.

“I’ve said enough, Caradoc, I’ve spoken all I know. It was what the Stones wanted me to say I saw in Ogwen: the rest you and I know and I’ll stay silent from now on. Now I’m tired and have need of sleep. And when I’ve slept I’ll have need of help, for now I’ve finished Ogwen calls me back that my spirit may be near the Stones and free again.”

So did Glyder’s speech end, and though he was led away by Gowre and much more was said when he was gone, it marked the true end of the conclave. Some said he was mad, others just old, and a few felt inspired; but none ever forgot his speech, for when a mole opens his heart as he had done then his words stay alive until those who heard them are ready to let them into their own life. There were many such who heard him that day, many more than ever knew.

Later Alder tried to dissuade him from going, but only half heartedly.

“’Tis for the best I leave,” said Glyder. “Let Gowre see me home. I shall tell him what I know of his kin on the way. A mole knows but little if he doesn’t know that.”

Alder nodded his assent, and Gowre was glad enough to go with Glyder. He, too, sensed the conclave was over and felt strangely moved to be taking his uncle from Siabod, as if on the first stage of a new journey.

The following morning, as the other moles who had come to the conclave began to leave to east, north and south, those two moles slipped quietly on to the cold surface of west Siabod and thence, by slow degrees, down towards Capel Curig and the way towards the cwms of Ogwen. Caradoc accompanied them a little of the way, and Gowre let them take their leave of each other privately, stancing a little way off and staring at the hills’ slow rise towards Ogwen.