Part 15 (1/2)

'Keeping them off, no fear -' he gestured with his cross-bow. 'I riding best fast burro, so valete, goodbye, sirs.'

Lieutenant Windward having paid his fee, which he demanded in cash, he kicked his mount into a rapid trot, and departed, waving his sombrero, but without ever looking back. The rest of the party lost no time in setting off in the opposite direction.

A narrow track, dug out of the steeply sloping mountainside, led down in zig-zags to the level of the lake basin, and then along beside what had presumably been the sh.o.r.e of the lake when it was full of water.

As they scrambled down the zig-zags the sun mounted behind Catelonde, which was plainly an active volcano; black clouds of smoke issued from its cup-shaped summit, throwing wild shadows over the white mist which still filled the lake-bed. However, just as the party reached the narrow level track that skirted the lake, all this mist rose up and hung in the sky overhead, so that the travellers were able to see the dry, sandy and stony arena which was what King Mabon had left his neighbour Queen Ginevra when he removed her lake.

'Musta been a right job, taking it,' said Dido. 'Hey, Mr Windward, why don't us ride along the bed of the lake, 'stead of this narrow track? Then we can all bunch together in case of Aurocs.'

Windward thought this a good suggestion, and the burros were urged down on to the lake-bed. No Aurocs, however, appeared today, presumably because of the heavy cloud overhead, which now obscured the sun. A great many dried fishbones were scattered on the sand; evidently when the water had been removed a number of mountain predators had been furnished with an unexpected fish dinner.

'This looks like gold-bearing soil to me,' said Mr Multiple. 'There's gold-mines in Wales, where I used to stay with my uncle. The ground looked like this. I daresay we could all make our fortunes if we sieved up a bit of this sand.'

'Best not touch it!' warned Windward. 'Don't forget, Arianrod was a sacred lake. The queen would have our guts for garters, likely, if you begin digging up the bed.'

Mr Multiple's face a.s.sumed an obstinate expression. He made no answer, but continued to keep a careful eye on the ground as he rode along. Presently he let out an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

'Now what?' demanded Windward. 'For heaven's sake, man, keep up a better pace! We shan't reach the frontier by nightfall at this rate.'

But Mr Multiple, tumbling impetuously off his burro, had scooped something off the ground which he now triumphantly exhibited.

'What do you say to that, then? A diamond as big as a pullet's egg, or my name's not Frank Multiple!'

'Are you certain?' said the lieutenant sceptically. 'It looks to me like any earthy pebble.'

'That's no pebble, sir, it's a diamond see here -' and he sc.r.a.ped with this thumbnail. 'My granddad was a goldsmith; I could not mistake. Hey there's dozens of 'em let us stop but half-an-hour, and we are all as rich as Crusoes!'

Windward was resolute, however, that they must press on, so Mr Multiple discontentedly climbed back into the saddle, muttering privately to Noah Gusset that it was a hem shame! He stared hard at the ground as they rode along, every now and then leaping down to grab a stone, remounting, and kicking his donkey into a fast trot to overtake the others again.

Dido could not help being somewhat infected by his enthusiasm; she, too, began to study the ground as she rode, and so chanced to perceive what seemed to be a rusty metal cross, half buried in a shallow sandy depression. A wink of red at its extremity had caught her eye.

'Here hold hard a minute, Mr Windward,' she said.

'Maybe that thing's summat worth taking along -might be vallyble -'

Sliding to the ground she knelt and tugged at the cross-shaped object. To her surprise the buried end was far longer than it had appeared, and quite deeply embedded in the ground. She had a hard struggle to pull it out.

'Do, pray make haste, Miss Twite,' said Windward impatiently. 'We cannot be forever stopping for trifles -'

'This ain't no trifle blimey, it's a sword?' cried Dido in. triumph. 'And I reckon it's worth a packet, too -look at all them coloured sparklers in the handle!'

'Yes, well, that's as may be, but the blade is all rusty I wish you will not be lumbering us up with such useless articles! In any case, it indubitably belongs to the queen.'

'Well then we'd better hand it to that-there what's-his-name, the Guardian, and he can send it back to her,' said Dido reasonably. 'It won't hurt poor old Mr Holy to have it by him.' She laid it in the litter and hopped back on to her burro.

No further incidents occurred to fidget Mr Windward during the ride along the dried-up lake-bed. Fortunately the low cloud prevented any attacks by Aurocs, but the atmosphere was very oppressive, sultry and heavy. The burros slipped and stumbled on the s.h.i.+ngly, powdery sand.

'I guess even the ground is hot hereabouts,' said Dido, feeling it with her hand when they stopped for a drink; none of them felt hungry.

'It may well be,' said Mr Multiple. 'After all we're getting uncommonly close to that big volcano. Look, you can see lava running down it like toffee. Supposing that big rock toppled off when we were pa.s.sing by?'

'I reckon it's been there for a good few thousand years,' said Lieutenant Windward.

'This is a right spooky place. I ain't surprised Dylan didn't want to come here,' Dido said.

Deep among the four surrounding mountains twin-headed Arrabe, dome-shaped Damyake, cloud-girt Calabe and smoke-belching Catelonde with a huge stone balanced on its summit the travellers felt as if they were at the bottom of a well, with black, steeply shelving slopes rising all around them. There were very few birds to be seen here, and no animals at all; the only sound that broke the silence was an occasional rumbling mutter from Mount Catelonde ahead of them. I'll be glad when we're past that one, thought Dido. She noticed that when Catelonde rumbled, Mr Holystone stirred restlessly on his litter, as if he could hear the sound in his dreams.

In mid-afternoon, some three-quarters of the way along the basin, they reached a point from which the far end was visible; they could see the narrow pa.s.s which led out and southwards towards Lyonesse.

'You can see why the water didn't flow out when the queen first had the lake put here,' said Mr Multiple. 'It's been d.a.m.ned.'

'Well she wouldn't want it to trickle away, after having brought it so far.'

'I suppose they brought it up in waterskins, on burros.'

'Or llamas,' said Dido.

Mount Catelonde gave a loud snort, and Mr Holystone cried out sharply, stirring and rolling over on to his side. His hand, groping about, found the handle of the rusty sword that Dido had unearthed, and clasped it.

He murmured some brief remark, and opened his eyes.

'Hey! Mr Windward!' Dido called to the lieutenant, who was on ahead. 'Mr Holystone said summat he's a-stirring I believe he's a mite better! Maybe if we gave him a drink '

Windward, sighing, turned his burro and came back.

'Did he really speak? It's not a Banbury story?'

But he, too, sounded hopeful. He, like everybody else, greatly respected Mr Holystone's judgment. In the present circ.u.mstances, without the captain, and now their numbers reduced by the loss of Plum, the steward's restoration to health and consciousness would be a piece of great good fortune. 'What did he say?'

'Sounded like halibut.''

'Oh, fiddlededee, Miss Twite!'

'No, it did! Truly! Listen!'

'Caliburn,' muttered Mr Holystone indistinctly, and then, louder and with more a.s.surance, 'Caliburn!'

Noah Gusset had already halted the pair of burros that carried the litter slung between them, and was taking out his leather water-bottle. Now Dido and Mr Multiple a.s.sisted the sick man to sit up. He looked around him wonderingly, at the black, snow-streaked mountain slopes and the sandy lake-bed, at their concerned faces watching him, and, lastly, at the sword in his hand. For the third time, in a tone of joy and recognition, he repeated the word. 'Caliburn! My sword, come back to my hand.'

'Mr Holystone!' cried Dido in rapture. 'Are are you feeling more the thing, now?'

His eyes rested on her with an expression of perplexity.

'I know the place,' he said. 'I know the sword. I know myself. But who are you? Who are these?' glancing again at Windward, Noah and Multiple.

'Why why, we're your friends, Mr Holy! Don't you recognise us?' Dido was terribly startled and grieved.

'No, my child. But I can see that you are all good people. Your faces are are trustworthy '

'Trustworthy!' said Lieutenant Windward rather shortly. 'So I should hope! If you knew how far we had hauled you up these G.o.dforsaken mountains! Come, now, do you not remember us? I am Lieutenant Windward, first lieutenant of His Majesty's sloop Thrush -this is Mr Mids.h.i.+pman Multiple this is Miss Twite '