the
hill. I could hear the rattling and scaling of small stones as he
came down the scree above the cave. One of them splashed into the
spring outside, and then it was too late. I heard him jump down on
to the flat grass beside the water.
It was time for the ring-dove again;
the falcon was forgotten. I ran deeper into the cave. As he swept
aside the boughs that darkened the entrance, the light grew
momentarily, enough to show me my way. At the back of the cave was
a slope and jut of rock, and, at twice my height, a widish ledge. A
quick flash of sunlight from the mirror caught a wedge of shadow in
the rock above the ledge, big enough to hide me. Soundless in my
scuffed sandals, I swarmed on to the ledge, and crammed my body
into that wedge of shadow, to find it was in fact a gap in the
rock, giving apparently on to another, smaller cave. I slithered in
through the gap like an otter into the river-bank.
It seemed that he had heard nothing.
The light was cut off again as the boughs sprang back into place
behind him, and he came into the cave. It was a man's tread,
measured and slow.
If I had thought about it at all, I
suppose I would have assumed that the cave would be uninhabited at
least until sunset, that whoever owned the place would be away
hunting, or about his other business, and would return only at
nightfall. There was no point in wasting candles when the sun was
blazing outside. Perhaps he was here now only to bring home his
kill, and he would go again and leave me the chance to get out. I
hoped he would not see my pony tethered in the hawthorn
brake.
Then I heard him moving, with the sure
tread of someone who knows his way blindfold, towards the candle
and the tinderbox.
Even now I had no room for
apprehension, no room, indeed, for any but the one thought or
sensation -- the extreme discomfort of the cave into which I had
crawled. It was apparently small, not much bigger than the large
round vats they use for dyeing, and much the same shape. Floor,
wall and ceiling hugged me round in a continuous curve. It was like
being inside a large globe; moreover, a globe studded with nails,
or with its inner surface stuck all over with small pieces of
jagged stone. There seemed no inch of surface not bristling like a
bed of strewn flints, and it was only my light weight, I think,
that saved me from being cut, as I quested about blindly to find
some clear space to lie on. I found a place smoother than the rest
and curled there, as small as I could, watching the faintly defined
opening, and inching my dagger silently from its sheath into my
hand.
I heard the quick hiss and chime of
flint and iron, and then the flare of light, intense in the
darkness, as the tinder caught hold. Then the steady, waxing glow
as he lit the candle.
Or rather, it should have been the
slow-growing beam of a candle flame that I saw, but instead there
was a flash, a sparkle, a conflagration as if a whole pitch-soaked
beacon was roaring up in flames. Light poured and flashed, crimson,
golden, white, red, intolerable into my cave. I winced back from
it, frightened now, heedless of pain and cut flesh as I shrank
against the sharp walls. The whole globe where I lay seemed to be
full of flame.
It was indeed a globe, a round chamber
floored, roofed, lined with crystals. They were fine as glass, and
smooth as glass, but clearer than any glass I had ever seen,
brilliant as diamonds. This, in fact, to my childish mind, was what
they first seemed to be. I was in a globe lined with diamonds, a
million burning diamonds, each face of each gem wincing with the
light, shooting it to and fro, diamond to diamond and back again,
with rainbows and rivers and bursting stars and a shape like a
crimson dragon clawing up the wall, while below it a girl's face
swam faintly with closed eyes, and the light drove right into my
body as if it would break me open.
I shut my eyes. When I opened them
again I saw that the golden light had shrunk and was concentrated
on one part
hill. I could hear the rattling and scaling of small stones as he
came down the scree above the cave. One of them splashed into the
spring outside, and then it was too late. I heard him jump down on
to the flat grass beside the water.
It was time for the ring-dove again;
the falcon was forgotten. I ran deeper into the cave. As he swept
aside the boughs that darkened the entrance, the light grew
momentarily, enough to show me my way. At the back of the cave was
a slope and jut of rock, and, at twice my height, a widish ledge. A
quick flash of sunlight from the mirror caught a wedge of shadow in
the rock above the ledge, big enough to hide me. Soundless in my
scuffed sandals, I swarmed on to the ledge, and crammed my body
into that wedge of shadow, to find it was in fact a gap in the
rock, giving apparently on to another, smaller cave. I slithered in
through the gap like an otter into the river-bank.
It seemed that he had heard nothing.
The light was cut off again as the boughs sprang back into place
behind him, and he came into the cave. It was a man's tread,
measured and slow.
If I had thought about it at all, I
suppose I would have assumed that the cave would be uninhabited at
least until sunset, that whoever owned the place would be away
hunting, or about his other business, and would return only at
nightfall. There was no point in wasting candles when the sun was
blazing outside. Perhaps he was here now only to bring home his
kill, and he would go again and leave me the chance to get out. I
hoped he would not see my pony tethered in the hawthorn
brake.
Then I heard him moving, with the sure
tread of someone who knows his way blindfold, towards the candle
and the tinderbox.
Even now I had no room for
apprehension, no room, indeed, for any but the one thought or
sensation -- the extreme discomfort of the cave into which I had
crawled. It was apparently small, not much bigger than the large
round vats they use for dyeing, and much the same shape. Floor,
wall and ceiling hugged me round in a continuous curve. It was like
being inside a large globe; moreover, a globe studded with nails,
or with its inner surface stuck all over with small pieces of
jagged stone. There seemed no inch of surface not bristling like a
bed of strewn flints, and it was only my light weight, I think,
that saved me from being cut, as I quested about blindly to find
some clear space to lie on. I found a place smoother than the rest
and curled there, as small as I could, watching the faintly defined
opening, and inching my dagger silently from its sheath into my
hand.
I heard the quick hiss and chime of
flint and iron, and then the flare of light, intense in the
darkness, as the tinder caught hold. Then the steady, waxing glow
as he lit the candle.
Or rather, it should have been the
slow-growing beam of a candle flame that I saw, but instead there
was a flash, a sparkle, a conflagration as if a whole pitch-soaked
beacon was roaring up in flames. Light poured and flashed, crimson,
golden, white, red, intolerable into my cave. I winced back from
it, frightened now, heedless of pain and cut flesh as I shrank
against the sharp walls. The whole globe where I lay seemed to be
full of flame.
It was indeed a globe, a round chamber
floored, roofed, lined with crystals. They were fine as glass, and
smooth as glass, but clearer than any glass I had ever seen,
brilliant as diamonds. This, in fact, to my childish mind, was what
they first seemed to be. I was in a globe lined with diamonds, a
million burning diamonds, each face of each gem wincing with the
light, shooting it to and fro, diamond to diamond and back again,
with rainbows and rivers and bursting stars and a shape like a
crimson dragon clawing up the wall, while below it a girl's face
swam faintly with closed eyes, and the light drove right into my
body as if it would break me open.
I shut my eyes. When I opened them
again I saw that the golden light had shrunk and was concentrated
on one part
Similar Books
