Part 4 (1/2)
”The final undoing of Fate hath begun, And Esgair's frail portion of happiness done; Arise and return to us, child of the lake, Nor nursling nor husband thy slumbers shall wake.”
Quick as light Esgair turned a strange look of terror on her husband.
”The waters, the cruel waters!” she cried; ”haste to the hills ere it be too late--hasten, or they will overwhelm you!” No thought of her own fate unnerved the heroic woman. Waving wildly to the workmen, she bade them escape for their lives, and indeed the nurse had already seen from above, and turned to warn them of an impending tempest. Lurid clouds veiled the sun, wild winds sighed around, strange shapes arose in the bed of the little river, madly leaping to and fro, while, stranger than all, and striking consternation to the bravest heart, with low growls as of far thunder, arose a huge black wall of water in the distant sea, and seemed ever approaching nearer. Sea gulls and cormorants wheeled in the air above, uttering dissonant cries. Affrighted and amazed, the terrified workmen left tools, clothes, and implements behind and fled in desperate haste towards the mountains.
At this moment Esgair, turning, perceived that Llewelyn, paralyzed with terror and remorse, could move neither hand nor foot to save himself or the child. Endued for the time being with superhuman strength, she s.n.a.t.c.hed the babe from his arms, and crying ”Follow me,” swept rapidly across the uneven ground, sometimes stumbling and nearly falling, but never stopping to take breath until, on the slopes of Moel Llys, she reached the trembling crowd, who from this vantage-ground watched the wild work of destruction below. Breathless and exhausted she flung herself down on the soft turf and soothed the bitterly crying and frightened infant.
Esgair's hurried flight awoke Llewelyn from the stupor of despair. He followed and aided her as best he could, and now stood by her side. In silent awe that little a.s.sembly beheld the appalling inroad of the waters. Like a dark pall, the slow moving ma.s.s spread itself over the fertile lands below; ere long it reached the castle; the unfinished walls disappeared, and soon a wide watery waste covered the whilome scene of busy labour and the rich fields around. At length the remorseless waves dashed unavailingly beneath the rising ground where stood the trembling fugitives. Loud thanksgivings for their safety arose from these simple pious men, and they gratefully acknowledged the hand of Providence in their wonderful escape from a watery grave.
But now low sobs of anguish were heard, a mother--like Rachel of old--weeping over her child, and refusing to be comforted. The gentle Esgair, wan and weary, lay prostrate upon the ground. Painfully she drew her labouring breath and strained Rhiwallon to her poor aching heart. Her eyes were mournfully fixed on Llewelyn, as if to take a last farewell. His grief could find no utterance. With gloomy foreboding he recalled the words of the ancient legend, and a cold thrill ran through him as he remembered that his fatal impatience had not only tempted Esgair's fate, but according to the old prophecy had riveted still more firmly the spell that bound her hapless kinsmen; for was it not written--
But if that wedded peace be riven, By blows at random three times given, Esgair must seek her father's cave, Nor quit again the gloomy wave, No slow revolving years shall wake The spell-bound slumberers of the lake.
By this time the tempest had gradually died away. A faint melody of unearthly beauty fell on their ears--as they listened wondering and entranced, they heard these thrilling words:
Three times lost, and three times won, Thou hast wedded Dafydd's son: Brow that holy sign hath crossed Ne'er can be by witchcraft lost.
By thy faith and suffering power Thou hast won the conquering hour; Though the spell on thee must break, Rhuddlan's race from sleep shall wake; Thou and thine shall dwell in light, Saved by glory infinite.
Rise, the evil spell is broken, Peace be thine, and this the token.
As the voice ceased the sun broke through the clouds, and from his western declivity threw a long radiance across the calming ocean.
Within this glittering pathway stood an angel of exceeding beauty, and of grave and majestic countenance. With his left hand he beckoned to Esgair. With his right he pointed to the golden rays behind him, within which myriad shapes of brightest loveliness seemed to move. The light fell on Esgair's head as she arose with new strength from the earth.
Already a solemn stillness hushed the grief of her pale features and a new expression beamed from her pure face.
”Heaven guard and guide thee, my babe,” she said, and placing him tenderly in his nurse's arms, turned to Llewellyn imploring him to wish her farewell. He approached and wildly cast his arms around her--the strong pa.s.sions of earth still raged uncontrolled in his unchastened bosom--but she slowly disengaged herself from his despairing caress and hopefully trod the brief steps that divided her from the heavenly visitant. The angel took her by the hand--once more with overflowing tenderness she waved adieu to her husband, and ere the awestruck Llewelyn could move from where he stood, the red sun disappeared with a sudden dip behind the distant island. With him also, alas! were gone the last faint traces of that pathway of light, wherein had moved, but a moment before, those bright blessed forms, connecting earth with the upper world.
Breaking from his trancelike despair, Llewelyn madly rushed to the water's brink and again and again strove to end his miserable existence by flinging himself into the gloomy sea. But his people restrained him, and the nurse brought the little Rhiwallon to his side. The unhappy father turned to look on his child, then with renewed agony, as he remembered how he had for ever deprived that tender nursling of a mother's care, he groaned aloud and smote his hands wildly together.
But now, through the quiet evening air--calm and serene--like dew on the parched and weary herb, was borne this soothing message from invisible realms:
Farewell to the home of my brief mortal years, Farewell to the valley of suns.h.i.+ne and tears.
Now over our castle on Arvon's pale sh.o.r.e The waters of Meinai shall surge evermore.
Llyn Idwyl! sleep calmly--thou desolate lake.
Dark Glydirs! no Esgair your echoes shall wake.
But mourn not, Llewelyn, the fate of thy love, She smiles still upon thee from regions above.
Arise and walk onward, nor idly repine, A mission that angels might sigh for is thine, To guide and to shelter through life's opening days Rhiwallon, whose future all Cymri shall praise.
The Spirit Divine hath inclined to my voice, And parents and kindred around me rejoice.
My fate is accomplished--the spell overcome, And Paradise opens to Rhuddlan a home.
The sudden shadow that had followed sunset now gave way to gorgeous colouring. From the closed western portals of the day emerged rich waving lines of gold and roseate hue, and spread far overhead. Behind the distant islands where the sun had disappeared glowed an atmosphere of living amber. For a brief moment the gates of Paradise were indeed ”standing ajar” to receive the now immortal Esgair and her long lost kindred.
Awhile the watchers on the sh.o.r.e continued on their knees hoping once more to see that heavenly visitant or hear again the soul-stirring voice that had fallen from unseen lips. At last one by one they arose, and gazing seawards by the waning light beheld the broad band of waters still covering the fertile plains, the green meadows, and the unfinished castle. Little rippling waves broke at their feet and marked the boundary line, where to this day, the waves surge and swell between the mighty Penmaens upon the Cambrian Coast.
At this moment Gwynneth arrived breathless in their midst and joined her lamentations to those of the little babe, who, missing his mother, bewailed her loss in heart-rending tones.
The workmen now turned to seek a night's lodging where they could, for their temporary dwellings had shared the fate of the more lordly castle. Llewelyn, still carrying his child, motioned to his mother to draw somewhat aside, and as they slowly remounted the hill, frequently pausing to cast wistful glances around, and to strain their eyes in vain toward the fading west, he related to her the various occurrences of that fatal day and repeated the farewell words of his lost wife.
”Hear me, mother,” exclaimed he, as they gained the door of the s.h.i.+eling; ”by the remembrance of my Esgair's pure and holy life, I devote myself henceforth to the fulfilment of her behest, and while life and strength remain I promise so to cherish and bring up our child (aided by heavenly power) that he shall renew the memory of his sainted mother, and become the benefactor of mankind.”