Lloyd Alexander - The Castle of Llyr

"How did you climb down?" Taran asked Rhun. "Did you find vines long enough to reach us?"

Prince Rhun's jaw dropped and he blinked with alarm. "I― I'm afraid I've done it again," he murmured. "I didn't climb. I jumped. I somehow never thought of getting out again. Surprising, it simply never occurred to me. I'm sorry, I've put us right back where we were."

"Not quite," replied Taran to the despondent Prince. "We can hoist you up as we did before, and this time you can lower something for the rest of us. But we must make haste."

"There's no need for us to stand on each other's heads," Fflewddur suddenly cried. "I see an easier way. Look there!" He pointed upward to where a large crack yawned in the cavern wall. A shaft of sunlight fell over the stones and fresh air whistled through the crevice. "We can thank Glew for that. With all his roaring and screaming he's shaken the rocks loose. We shall be out in no time! Bless the repulsive little monster! He said he wanted to make Mona tremble," he added, "and, Great Belin, so he did― after a fashion!"

The companions hurried to the wall of the cave and began picking their way through the rubble of broken stones. Prince Rhun, however, halted abruptly and began fumbling with his jacket.

"I say, that's surprising," he cried. "I know I put it there." With an anxious frown he began searching his garments once again.

"Hurry," Taran called. "We dare not be here when Glew comes to his senses. What are you looking for?"

"My book," answered Rhun. "Where can it be? It must have fallen out while I was crawling through that hole. Or perhaps…"

"Leave it!" Taran urged. "It is worthless. You've risked your life once. Don't risk it again for a book of empty pages!"

"It was a handsome keepsake," said Rhun, "and would be useful. It can't be far. Go ahead, I'll join you. I shan't be a moment." He turned and trotted back toward the tunnel.

"Rhun!" Taran shouted, racing after him. The Prince of Mona disappeared into the chamber. Taran found him on hands and knees groping over the rough floor.

"Splendid!" cried Rhun, glancing over his shoulder. "A little light is what I needed. Now, surely, it's bound to be here. Let me see, first, where I was climbing up. If it dropped out then, by all rights it should be close to the wall."

Taran was determined, if need be, to lay hold of the Prince and drag him bodily from the cell which had so nearly become a tomb. He strode forward just as Rhun gave a cry of triumph.

"And there it is!" shouted the Prince, He picked up the book and carefully examined it. "I hope it isn't damaged," he remarked. "All that scrambling about might have torn the pages. No, it seems…" He stopped and shook his head in dismay. "I say, that is a shame! It's ruined. All covered with scratchings and markings. Whatever could have happened?"

He put the leather-bound volume into Taran's hand. "Look," he said. "What a pity. Every page is marred. It's really useless now."

Taran was about to cast the book aside and carry out his first intention of collaring the Prince, but his eyes widened at the sight of the pages. "Rhun," he whispered, "these are more than scratchings. It is carefully written. I had thought the pages empty."

"So had I," said Rhun. "What could…"

Fflewddur called out, urging them to hasten. Taran and Prince Rhun left the chamber. Gurgi had already reached the opening in the cavern ceiling and was beckoning to them.

"The book we found in Glew's hut," Taran began.

"Don't worry about Glew's property, worry about Glew," said Fflewddur. "He's beginning to stir. Move along or we'll still end up in one of his potions."

The sun had just risen, but it was bright and warming after the dank cavern. The companions gratefully breathed the fresh springtime air. Gurgi shouted joyfully and raced on ahead. He soon returned with good tidings: the river lay not too far away. The companions set out for it with all speed.

As they strode along Taran held up the volume to Fflewddur. "There is deep mystery in this. I cannot read the writing; the script is ancient. But how it came there…"

"After what we've been through," replied the bard, glancing at the pages, "I can understand your wanting to jest. But this is hardly the moment for it."

"Jest? I do not jest!" Taran started as he pointed at the volume again. The pages were empty as they had always been. "The writing," he stammered. "It's gone!"

"My friend," said the bard gently, "your eyes have played you false. At the river we'll put pool cloths on your head and you'll feel much better. It's quite understandable, considering the darkness, the shock of nearly being boiled…"

"I know what I have seen," Taran protested. "Even in the cavern, even in the dim light of the bauble…"

"It's true," put in Rhun, who had been following their talk. "I saw it myself. There's no mistake. The bauble was shining straight on the pages."

"The bauble!" Taran cried. "Wait! Can it be?" Hurriedly he drew out the sphere, while the companions halted and watched him silently. As the light blossomed in his hand, Taran held it so that its rays bathed the pages in a golden glow.

The writing sprang into sight, sharp and clear.

"Astonishing!" cried Rhun. "The most amazing thing I've seen in my life!"

Taran crouched on the turf, held the bauble close to the book, and with trembling fingers turned leaf after leaf. The curious tracing crowded every page. The bard gave along, low whistle.

"What does this mean, Fflewddur?" Taran asked. He raised his head and looked with concern at the bard.

The bard's face had paled. "What it means, in my opinion," said Fflewddur, "is that we should get rid of the book instantly. Drop it in the river. I regret to say I can't read it. I could never manage to learn all these secret scripts and ancient letters. But I recognize enchantment when I see it." He shuddered and turned away. "I'd rather not even look at it, if you don't mind. Not that it frightens me. Yes, it makes me feel acutely uneasy; and you know my views on meddling."

"If Glew spoke the truth, it comes from a place of enchantments," Taran said. "But what can it tell us? I shall not destroy it," he added, returning the book to his jacket. "I can't explain; I feel as though I'd touched a secret. It's strange, like a moth that brushes your hand and flutters away again."

"Ahem," said Fflewddur, casting a nervous glance at Taran. "If you insist on carrying the thing with you, would you oblige me― nothing personal, you understand― but I would appreciate it if you'd stay a few paces away."

Midday was long past when the companions reached the riverbank, but they rejoiced at their good fortune. The remains of the raft were still there. They set to work hastily to repair it. Prince Rhun, in better spirits than ever, labored unstintingly. For a time Taran had forgotten the Prince of Mona was to be Eilonwy's betrothed. Now the sad thought returned to him as he helped Rhun knot new vines around the raft.

"You should be proud of yourself," Taran said quietly. "Did you seek to prove yourself a true Prince? You have done so, Rhun Son of Rhuddlum."

"Why, perhaps that's so," replied Rhun, as though the idea had never occurred to him. "But it's a curious thing. It doesn't seem one bit as important as it did. Astonishing, but true!"

The sun had begun to dip by the time the raft was ready. Taran, who had grown more and more restless as the day waned, urged the companions to press on rather than wait the night on shore, and they clambered aboard.

Twilight soon fell over the valley, and the Alaw ran in swift silver ripples under the rising moon. The shore lay silent, flanked by brooding hills. In the middle of the raft Gurgi curled up like a muddy ball of leaves; beside him, the Prince of Mona slept and snored peacefully, a smile of contentment on his round face. Taking the first watch, Taran and Fflewddur guided the awkward craft as it rapidly floated seaward.