When, some time later, the party at last slowly and sadly made their way out of the cave and into the street of Nant Agerddau, they were amazed to see that a great piece of snow-covered mountainside had broken away and rolled down, narrowly missing the town, and leaving a clear view all the way to Caer Malyn. Even more startling, Castle Malyn, on its crag above the port, appeared to be in ruins, roofless and shattered.
“It will be the central heating pipes,” concluded Mr. Hughes. “When that rock fell down the shaft it will have displaced a great mass of steam which escaped along the pipes and blew the castle of bits, and I daresay there is no one who will grieve.”
“My little people!” cried the Seljuk anxiously. “Oh my goodness, I trust they have come to no harm, hurt, mischief, ill that flesh is heir to! Come, Yehimelek, we must return to them at once!”
“Not too easy through all this snow,” Brother Ianto remarked. “Best to go back underground, maybe, if the way is clear.”
Arabis, coming out of her private grief, said that she would accompany the Seljuk; so did Owen and Ribaddi, now recovered, after his night's sleep. They were worried about Abipaal; he had followed the party through the
streets of Nant Agerddau and would not leave the Boar's head Inn, where Tom's body lay, but stood at the door, crying, with the harp in his arms, refusing to enter or leave, and snarling at anyone who approached him.
“Best leave him for the moment, maybe,” said Brother Ianto.
The underground way was clear; and the Children of the Pit, snug in their caves, had not been harmed by the destruction of the castle up above; though greatly alarmed by the fearful sound of escaping steam and falling masonry. Their illness continued to abate and, much relieved, while Arabis and Owen tended them, the Seljuk went down to Port Malyn to make arrangements for a ship to take them all home to the Kingdom of Rum. By good fortune he was able to secure one which would be ready to sail the following week.
Finding the tribe so much better Arabis did not give them any more medicines but instead, as this was what they seemed to want most, spent the rest of the day playing them tunes on her crwth. Owen, tired out by two days and a night without sleep, dozed on a camel-fur cushion nearby.
At evening they returned to Nant Agerddau where the Prince of Wales had been making arrangements for Tom Dando's funeral. Luckily a messenger had arrived from London in the course of the day to say that King James III had recovered from his toothache and found the key of his desk.
Galahad and the wagon had been moved to the stable-yard of the Boar's Head Inn. Owen, anxious to spare Arabis some of the pain of a return to the empty home,
accompanied her there; they found that kindly Brother Ianto, with the same idea, had come to light the stove and make a potful of porridge.
“Passenger you have now, too,” he said, nodding towards the corner.
Squatting on Tom Dando's bunk, with his arms round his knees, was the woebegone figure of Abipaal. His face brightened, through the whiskers, at sight of Arabis.
“Told him you were Tom's daughter, I did,” Brother Ianto explained.
Seeing Arabis unsling the crwth from her back, Abipaal brightened still more. He seemed astonished to be given a bowl of porridgeâbut ate it with a good deal of enjoyment; the moment it was finished, however, he made his way to the crwth and began plucking at it experimentally; then he brought it to Arabis with such a beseeching expression that even in her sorrow she could not help smiling. She played him two or three tunes and a look of such ineffable satisfaction spread over his face that Brother Ianto said,
“Lodger for life you have, I am thinking. I do not believe he will go back to Rum with the others.”
“Why should he, if he does not want to go?” said Arabis. “Welcome he is to stay here.”
One or twice Abipaal looked hopefully at the Harp of Teirtu, which he had with him in Tom Dando's bunk. But Arabis shook her head.
“Learn to play it one day I will,” she told him. “But too soon it is now, see?” And he seemed to understand.
Then Arabis, looking past him, discovered something missing.
“Dada's poem!” she cried anxiously.
“Not to worry, is it,” Brother Ianto said. “His highness have borrowed it. He is going to have it published up fine, all in white, with gold endpapers. Now I will say good night to you; off to Pennygaff I am going in the morning with Hwfa, Luggins, Mog and Dove; fixed up with them to come and help me build up that old monastery again, I have. But I will see you both soon, I am thinking.”
A few minutes after Brother Ianto's departure the Seljuk came to call.
“Ahem!” he said politely. “Should you care for it, my esteemed young lady, damsel, miss, I shall be only too delighted to take you back with me to Rum and give you an honourable establishment there, in requital for the signal services you have rendered my little tribesmen.”
“I do thank your worship,” Arabis replied, “most grateful I am for your offer and I will be glad to visit you one day, but I am not wishful to leave Wales at present.”
And she made the same answer to Prince David when a little later he limped across from the inn and cordially invited her to come and live with him in Windsor Castle, where the Princess of Wales would look after her with every care. But she gratefully accepted his offer to have the “The King at Caerleon” published at his own expense.
After he had left, Mr. Hughes knocked on the wagon door and stumped in. He looked somewhat ill-at-ease, and his embarrassment was not lessened by finding Owen there, with Hawc sitting on his head, and Abipaal, happily picking out simple tunes on the crwth.
However Mr. Hughes was not the man to shirk an unpleasant duty.
“Come to apologize, my dear,” he said gruffly. “Realize now I did you and your good father an injustice when you called at the museumâspecially since it turns out the con-founâblessed harp belonged to you all the time. Harrumph! Heartily sorry for what I said. And”âhe boggled a bit but finally brought it outâ“same goes for you, too, Owen my boy. Misjudged you. Realize now you acted with great sense and spirit. His highness has said some very pleasant things about you. He is going to send out an expeditionary force to look for your father. What do you think of that, eh?”
Owen's face lit up. But his joy was too deep for speech.
“Hope you'll come back and live with me at the museum,” Mr. Hughes went on awkwardly.
“At the museum?” Owen was surprised. “But, Granda, I thought you resigned?”
“Had a message from the Pennygaff Council today asking if I'd go back.” Mr. Hughes sniffed. “Can't find anyone else to accept their ten shillings a year, I daresay. But what about it? And you too, Arabis, my dear? Do us good to have you with us, wouldn't it, Owenâbrighten the dusty old place up a bit.”
His expression was so anxious and pleading that Arabis said warmly, “Indeed, there is kind you are, Mr. Hughes, bach, and I would like nothing better! Then I can be going to school and getting a bit of learning. But in the summertime, mind you, I must be going back on the road, or I will be forgetting where the healing herbs grow, and old Galahad out there will be growing stiff in the joints with him.”
“And I'll come with you,” Owen said.
“And you won't mind little Abipaal?” Arabis mentioned. “Taken up lodging with me, he do seem to have.”
“Oh, not a bit,” Mr. Hughes said. “I daresay he will be a famous help in the museum. Right, then, I am glad to have that settled and I will say good night.” Greatly relieved, he creaked away through the snow. Arabis smiled faintly, as she stood in the doorway looking after him. Owen came to join her.
“You won't mind living in Pennygaff?” he said anxiously.
“No, I shall be liking it! And Brother Ianto will be thereâthe Seljuk have given him a great sum of money to rebuild his monastery.”
The blizzard had blown itself out. Overhead, a clear moon rode among stars; downhill the roofs of Nant Agerddau gleamed silver, and beyond lay the Fforest Mwyaf like a wide white counterpane. From inside the wagon came a musical plunk, as Abipaal tightened a string and tried it.
They stood silent, listening. And heard above them the gentle sighing murmur of the Whispering Mountain, the voice of Fig-hat Ben talking in his sleep.
Then Fig-hat Ben shall wear a shroud,
Then shall the despoiler, that was so proud,
Plunge headlong down from the Devil's Leap;
Then shall the Children from darkness creep,
And the men of the glen avoid disaster,
And the Harp of Teirtu find her master.