Part 9 (1/2)
Step by slow step, and despite Pymfyd's inarticulate mutter of protest, Madouc crossed the stony barrens to the circular wall and peered down into the black depths below. She listened, but heard nothing. She pitched her voice so that it might be heard in the black depths and called: ”Father! Can you hear me?” She listened: no sound returned. ”Father, are you there? It is Madouc, your daughter!”
Pymfyd, scandalized by Madouc's acts, came up behind her. ”What are you doing? This is not proper conduct, either for you or for me!”
Madouc paid him no heed. Leaning over the opening she called again: ”Can you hear me? It has been a very long time! Are you still alive? Please speak to me! It is your daughter Madouc!”
From the darkness below came only profound silence.
Pymfyd's imagination was not of a far-ranging nature; nevertheless he conceived that the stillness was not ordinary, but rather that where listeners quietly held their breath. He tugged at Madouc's arm and spoke in a husky whisper: ”Princess, there is a strong smell of ghosts to this place! Listen with a keen ear, you can hear them chittering down deep in the darkness.”
Madouc c.o.c.ked her head and listened. ”Bah! I hear no ghosts.”
”You are not listening with proper ears! Come away now, before they rob us of our senses!”
”Do not talk nonsense, Pymfyd! King Casmir dropped my father down this hole, and I must learn if he still lives.”
Pymfyd peered down the shaft. ”Nothing down there lives. In any case, it is royal business, beyond our scope!”
”Not so! Is it not my father who was immured?”
”No matter; he is no less dead.”
Madouc nodded sadly. ”So I fear. But I suspect that he left some memorial as to his name and pedigree. If nothing else, this is what I wish to know.”
Pymfyd gave his head a decisive shake. ”It is not possible; now let us go.”
Madouc paid no heed. ”Look, Pymfyd! On yonder gibbet hangs a rope. With this rope we will lower you down the shaft to the bottom. The light will be poor, but you must look about to see what has transpired and what records remain.”
Pymfyd stared, mouth gaping in wonder. He stuttered: ”Have I heard rightly? You intend that I should descend into the hole? The idea lacks merit.”
”Come, Pymfyd, be quick! Surely you value my good opinion! Run to the gibbet and fetch the rope.”
A step grated on the stony ground; the two jerked around to find a ponderous silhouette looming against the gray overcast. Pymfyd sucked in his breath; Madouc's jaw sagged.
The dark shape stepped forward; Madouc recognized Zerling the Chief Executioner. He halted, to stand heavy legs apart, arms behind his back.
Madouc previously had seen Zerling only from a distance, and the sight had always brought her a morbid little s.h.i.+ver. Now he stood looking down at her, and Madouc stared back in awe; Zerling's semblance was not the more lightsome for proximity. He was ma.s.sive and muscular, so that he seemed almost squat. His face was heavy, with skin of a curious brownish-red color, and fringed all around with a tangle of black hair and black beard. He wore pantaloons of sour black leather and a black canvas doublet; a round leather cap was pulled low over his ears. He looked back and forth between Madouc and Pymfyd. ”Why do you come here, where we do our grim deeds? It is no place for your games.”
Madouc responded in a clear treble voice: ”I am not here for games.”
”Ha!” said Zerling. ”Whatever the case, Princess, I suggest that you leave at once.”
”Not yet! I came here for a purpose.”
”And what might that be?”
”I want to know what happened to my father.”
Zerling's features compressed into a frown of perplexity. ”Who was he? I have no recollection.”
”Surely you remember. He loved my mother, the Princess Suldrun. For punishment, the king ordered him dropped into this very hole. If he still lives, I want to know, so that I might beg His Majesty for mercy.”