“Right, you,” Mog said happily. “Tie them up in knots, we will. A worm would find it hard to imitate. Come on, Dove.”
“No, just make sure they are the right men,” Owen cautioned. “They have knives, they are dangerous; especially Bilk, the tall one.”
“No matter for that,” huge Mog said comfortably. “A
pair of Welsh lads can soon mash them into hotch-potch. You will see.”
Mog and Dove made off, running, up the hill, while the remaining three shouldered the litter once more and, being well rested, swung along at a rapid pace. Soon Owen began to recognize landmarks on the route he had taken with Mr. Smith the king's messenger; they climbed out of the forest, up grassy slopes now greyed over with a thin layer of snow, and came at last into the narrow gorge leading to Nant Agerddau.
“No sign of the others yet,” Hwfa said, peering through the snow, which came thicker and thicker. “Roundabout way the thieves must have taken, not to be spotted by honest folk. But Mog and Dove will have them marked down, no danger. Old Dove is as good as a bloodhound when it do come to tracking.”
“I hope they will be all right,” said Owen, who was now having doubts as to the wisdom of his plan.
“No call to fret, boy,” Hwfa said. “I will back Mog and Dove against the whole British army, with boots on.”
“Perhaps the thieves are going back to the empty house,” Owen thought. “Perhaps they left something behind there, or decided to let me loose after all.” He wished he had thought to warn Mog and Dove not to go in there, supposing the house was still standing. But then he recalled how anxious Bilk and Prigman had been to leave it; they would hardly be likely to return.
Soon they passed the abandoned row, and reached the entrance to Father Ianto's cave.
“Wait just a moment,” Owen said. “If anybody has skill
to care for his highness, it is the good brother who is living in here.”
He put his head through the opening and called, “Brother Ianto! Are you there?”
But no answer came out. Owen went inside and found the cave dark and unoccupied; the tapers had burned out. He tripped over something and, stooping to feel about, discovered Brother Ianto's little wooden toolbox. It lay open and, as his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he saw that the tools were scattered untidily over the floor.
“That is queer,” he thought, rather troubled. “It isn't like Brother Ianto to leave his things all strewn about so. What can have happened?”
Hastily he gathered the tools into the box and then made his way back to the others.
“Brother Ianto does not seem to be there,” he said. “I will ask about him in the town. He can't be far, or he would have taken his tools. Luckily I have another friend in the neighbourhood who will be able to help the prince.”
They took the litter straight to the Boar's Head Inn, where Mr. Thomas the landlord and his wife nearly fell into a distraction with anxiety about their royal visitor, and gratification at the honour done to their roof, and dismay over the need to send somebody somewhere with a message about the prince's mishap, and worry about how they were going to get enough provisions to feed his highness as a highness should be fed.
Sheets were aired, fires lit, cauldrons put on to boil for poultices, and a stable-boy sent running for the doctor.
“Lucky it is we have good Dr. Jenkins in the town,” Mr. Thomas said. “A fine skilled physician he is, and does
wonders for the folk that come here to take the waters.”
“Fine high fees he do charge too,” sniffed Mrs. Thomas. “Pull a tooth and he will come near to ruin you, indeed! Sooner take my troubles to the pretty young lady and her da up at the fair, I would. Beautiful oil of goutweed and angelica she has given me for my housemaid's knee, and only a groat to pay.”
Owen, when he saw the pompous, consequential little doctor, was inclined to side with the landlady; escaping from the fuss and uproar as the prince was put to bed, he ran off through the snowstorm to the top of the town.
He had been anxious in case the unseasonably early winter weather might have made the fairground people decide to pack up and move on elsewhere; however when he reached the quarry he was relieved to find that most of the tents and wagons were still there, though it was plain that they were not doing very good business. He flew to the spot where the Dandos' caravan had been locatedâand drew up short in dismay. The wagon was no longer there. Thinking that he might have gone astray in the snow, he turned back and searched more carefully, but without success.
“Have the Dandos left?” he asked an elderly lady in a red cloak, frilled bonnet, and steeple-hat, who was smoking a pipe in the doorway of her tent under a notice that said “Synamon Byns.”
“Eh?” She leaned forward, cupping her hand over her ear.
“MR. DANDO AND HIS DAUGHTER? Where are they?” Owen shouted.
“Eh, dear boy, How should I know? Went from by here,
they did, yesterday, but I am not knowing where. Not a one to chatter, Tom Dando, and his daughter I was not seeing at all before they left. Will you be buying a cinnamon bun, my little one? Fresh baked, they are, and so crusty to melt on the tongue!”
Owen's mouth watered at the thought, and at the warm scent of baking which came from the old lady's tent, but he had no money, and regretfully declined. On his way back to the inn he asked all the people he met if they had seen Brother Ianto, but nobody had. However the potman at the Boar's Head, when asked, said he believed a messenger had come from the Marquess inquiring for Brother Ianto, and had later been seen driving him off towards Caer Malyn in a gig.
“But why should his lordship want Brother Ianto?” Owen demanded, rather troubled.
“How do I know, boy? Leave bothering meâdear knows, enough work I have for three men, looking after the customers in the bar and mixing up this devil's brew for Dr. Jenkins. Lucky it is that old Seljuk and his servant left and went off to stay with Lord Malyn; pity all this lot wouldn't go as well.”
The potman was beating eggs, turpentine, vinegar, and ammonia together in a pewter beermug; the doctor, leaning over the stair-rail, called,
“Make haste, man! Am I to stand all day empty-handed?”
“0 dammo! Here, you give it to the old gorynnog,” the potman said, pushing the mug at Owen, who carried it upstairs into the prince's chamber. Hwfa was here blowing up a newly lit fire, Luggins carefully supported the prince's
reclining form on the bed, while Dr. Jenkins tried to persuade him to drink a treacle posset made from figs, barley, and liquorice. But the patient was far from willing. He threw himself from side to side, uttering strange cries,
“Oigh! Oigh! Ceade millia diaoul! Troutsho!”
“Your highness! Please!” Dr. Jenkins wiped some treacle from his beard.
“Awa, ye blethering goose, ye gabbling skyte!”
“The man is mad, with him!” said Dr. Jenkins vexedly.
Prince David seemed to come to himself a little.
“Dinna gang sae ram-stan, ma man!” he croaked. “Have ye nae a dram o' the usquebaugh? A tass o' aquavitae?”
“Oh, gracious to goodness,” fretted the doctor. “What will his highness be talking about, I do wonder? Indeed it is beyond me to understand his ravings.”
“I think I know,” said Hwfa, who often helped his father in the Dragon of Gwaun. He ran downstairs and soon returned bearing a glass of colourless liquid, which the prince received with a seraphic smile and immediately swallowed down.
“Ah, ye're a canny lad, a lad after ma ain hairt,” he said to Hwfa. “Ance the inner man is satisfied, ye can do whit ye damn please wi” the outer!” And turning over, he sank into a sleep so profound that the doctor was able to spread turpentine salve over the wound without in any way disturbing his patient.
Then they all tiptoed downstairs, but as they were doing so, they heard a strange thump in the air, like a soft clap of thunder, and the building trembled.
“What was that?” Owen said.
“Dear, dear! Can his highness have fallen out of bed?”
worried the doctor, and bustled upstairs again, but Hwfa said,
“Outside, that noise was. More like a big gun it sounded.”
“Or a fall of rock in the pit,” Luggins said.
“No pits round here,” said Hwfa.
Owen's knees suddenly felt weak beneath him.
“Come with me, quick!” he said. “I believe I know what it was.”
Followed by the other boys he began running down the street towards the empty row of houses. But before they reached the end of the town they met Mog and Dove, who were pale and wild-eyed.
“Please to say what has been going on?” Hwfa demanded. “Wondering what you were up to, we were. No need to push the old mountain over, is it?” He spoke sarcastically, but he was plainly relieved to see his friends safe.
Dove was shaking all over.
“Awful it was!” he said. “Awful!”
“What happened, then, man?”
“Here,” suggested Owen, “let's get out of the crowd, and the snow.”
Half the population of Nant Agerddau was scurrying down the road, through the snowstorm, to see what had happened; the boys turned aside and walked through the great porticoed cave entrance beside the town hall. A sign on a board said:
NANT AGERDDAU TOWN COUNCIL
DEVIL'S LEAP CAVE
ADMISSION 6D
IMMERSION IN WATERS 2S 6D
WATER PER GLASSS 1S
But the man who usually sat at a table in the entrance cave taking sixpences had dashed off down the town like everybody else.
The boys walked into the cave unchallenged, and made their way through a passage and a series of linked chambers to an inner cavern with a hot pool in it, where old ladies came to bathe their rheumatic ankle-joints.
“Now,” said Hwfa, “tell, then, is it?”
They all sat down on rocks.
“We followed those two men,” Mog said. “Easy it was. They went up the hill cornerways like crabs, leaving tracks behind them in the snow, no trouble to keep in sight. But where the trees thinned out, hard to get close enough to hear their talk. So we kept on, follow, follow, though the path they took would break a snake's back, so roundabout. By and by they came near Nant Agerddau, us still a good distance behind. Nasty old path thereabouts, too, all loose stones; kick one down, start the whole hillside falling.”
“I remember,” Owen said. “They took me that way too.”
“Then we came into the gorge, and easier to creep near because the road do bend about; stole along we did, quiet to hear one snowflake grind on another, and came on the pair of them sudden, standing still to argue in the middle of the road. Old Dove here squatted down behind a rock and I squeezed into a little bit of bramble-scrubâfull of prickles I am yetâand crawled closer and closer.
“âWill you swear you haven't got it hid away?' I heard one of them say.
“âSwear till Turpentine Sunday, I will,' says the other, very angry. âWhat difference do that make? All I care is that Old Stigmatical will have our necks in three days if we don't get it for him. I'll lay
you've
got it all along!'
“âIf I had it, would I still be keeping company with you, you foister?' says the other, angrier still. â'Twas all
your
peevy notions got us into this imbranglementânow you get us out!'
“âWell I say we'd best go back to the stalling-ken and see what's come to the young co; maybe 'twas he fetched out someways, and prigged back the bandore.'
“âThe stalling-ken ain't safe,' says the second one. âAnyways, suppose he's still there, and alive, what then?'
“âWhy then,' says the first, nasty to make your blood run cold, âwe'd best stick a shiv in him, so's he won't cry rope on us; then we'll make tracks for France; that's the only part where Old Stigmatical won't find us now he's got his glaziers on us. He'd never credit it if we told him we couldn't find the blessed owchânot after what's gone before.'
“âOh, all right,' says the first, âbut let's be quick, then.'
“âI'll go on my own if you like, if you're afeered,' says the second.
“âNo,' says the first, giving him a look to slice up a side of beef, âacos I don't trust you farther than I can throw you. Maybe you got up to some skimble-skamble trickery with the young kinchin, arranging for him to win free and prig the bandore from where you hid it. I'm a-coming too.'”
“By now it was snowing so thick that I'd been able to wriggle close as I am to you; I could hear well enough all they were saying. But hard to understand, with the queer words they used, and still not certain sure, I was, if they were the right pair, though it seemed like enough. When they started off towards those empty houses I felt fair and sure, so I gave Dove a bit of a beckon to come on.”