Stephen Lawhead - Grail

Thus, by halts and starts, I proceeded along the narrow path. Despite the cold, I was soon sweating once more with the pain and exertion, my breath hanging in phantom clouds around my head. I listened all the while, alert to any sound in the forest. I strained to hear Gereint returning at any moment, or Bors. Or the black beast.

But no. I was alone. Again fear boiled up, but I swallowed it down and moved on, berating my companions for running off, as I supposed, after the horses. How I had come by this notion, I cannot say. Consumed by my own troubles, I had not spared a single kindly thought for them. Indeed, they could have been lying wounded or dead in the wood nearby and I would not have been any the wiser.

'Blessed Jesu, forgive a foolish man,' I sighed aloud, and then breathed a silent prayer for the safety of my friends. These thoughts and prayers occupied me as I staggered my slow way along the trail towards the faint moon-shimmer of radiance.

At long last, the trail turned slightly and I came to a huge bramble thicket – an infernally dense tangle of spiked vines and thorny branches. Had it been a rampart of stone, it could not have been more formidable. Yet the monstrous creature appeared to have crashed into this wall and, in its blind rage, driven a ragged gap into the close-grown tangles. Although I could not discern the source, the light seemed to be coming from somewhere beyond the hedge wall.

I leaned on my crooked staff, gazing at the thicket. The throb in my leg had become a steady pulse of pain, and my side felt as if live coals were smouldering under the skin. I was shivering with cold and pain, and sweating at the same time. I closed my eyes and leaned harder on my staff. 'Jesu, nave mercy,' I groaned. 'I am hurt and I am alone, and I am lost if you do not help me now.'

I was still trying to marshal my waning strength to attempt the hedge when I heard quick, rustling footsteps behind me. My first thought was that the monster had returned. This fear swiftly vanished at the sound of my name.

'Gwalchavad!'

'Here!' I called. 'Here I am!' I turned to stare back down the narrow path that had led me to this place. A moment later, I saw Gereint loping towards me, his face gleaming ghostly in the pale light. He carried a sword – mine, it was – and wore an expression of mingled relief and wonder.

'Lord Gwalchavad, you are alive,' he said as he joined me. Out of breath, he stuck the sword in the ground, and bent over with his hands on his knees. 'I feared you were – ' He paused, gulping air, then said, 'I feared I had lost you, but then I saw the light and followed it.'

Observing my leg, he asked, 'Is it bad?'

'I can endure it,' I replied. 'What of Bors? Have you seen him?'

'Not since the attack,' he answered.

'God help him,' I replied; then leaving Bors' welfare in the Good Lord's hands, I turned once more to the thicket. 'The light drew me here, too. It seems to be coming from the other side of this hedge wall.'

'We will go through together,' said Gereint. Taking up the sword, he stepped to the gap and began slashing at the briers. He cleared the path before us, and reached a hand back for me.

'Go before me,' I told him. 'I will follow.'

He peered at me doubtfully, then turned and resumed his chopping at the knotted branches. He hewed like a champion, slashing with tireless strokes. The vapour from his breath hung in a cloud above him, and his hair grew damp and slick, but he stood to his work, arms swinging, shoulders rolling as he hacked at the dangling vines.

I followed, hobbling a step at a time, as the hedge parted before Gereint's blade. In this way we proceeded, until…

'We are through!' Gereint declared triumphantly.

Glancing up, I saw the light shining through and Gereint standing in the breach, sword in hand. Whatever lay beyond the hedge wall occupied his complete attention.

I staggered behind Gereint into a wide clearing. Beyond the all-enclosing thicket, the ground was rocky and uneven, and the hedge wall stood back in a circle all around. In the centre of the clearing rested a squat stone hut with a steep, high-pitched roof, also of stone. The walls were squared, solid, and without openings of any kind, and the roof was covered with moss – in all a most curious dwelling.

Beside the house stood a stone plinth of the kind the Romans used to erect for their statues and memorials. There was no memorial or statue now, but a heap of broken rubble at the foot of the plinth suggested that once there might have been.

These things I took in first, and only when Gereint spoke did I feel the calming silence of the place. 'It is very peaceful here,' the young warrior said, and even at a whisper his voice seemed to boom like a beaten drum.

Placing a finger to my lips, I warned him against speaking aloud until we could discover whether we were the only visitors. Gereint nodded and took my arm upon his shoulder and we proceeded cautiously towards the dwelling.

We had been drawn to the clearing by the light. Now that we were here, however, there was no light to be found and none to be seen -that is, there appeared no source of illumination: no campfire, no torches, no subtle sunlight shining down from above – yet the stone hut did stand suflused in a softly gleaming radiance very like that of moonlight, and what is more, this gentle gloaming bathed the entire clearing with a fine luminescence that shimmered gently at the edges of my vision. Whenever I looked directly at an object, this ghostly glimmering faded, though the soft glow remained.

Wary with every step, we approached the stone hut, moving slowly along the near side to what we took to be the front. There we found a door both low and narrow, its threshold overgrown with weeds and grass. So small was this entrance that only one could pass at a time, and that one must bow almost to his knees to enter.

Gereint cleared away the growth with a few quick swipes of his blade, then, sword in hand, stooped and entered.

A moment later, his face appeared in the doorway, and he said, 'It is empty, lord. There is no one here.'

With some difficulty and no little pain – for I could no longer bend my injured leg at all, and had to lie down and drag myself through the opening – I joined him within. Gereint raised me to my feet again, and we stood together in a holy place.

'It is some kind of chapel,' Gereint said, his voice filling the stone-walled room.

The same weird light that played in the clearing outside also filled the interior of the single, vaulted room, allowing us to see each detail of the rich ornamentation – for every surface was carved with wonderful designs: intricate knotwork panels and borders, countless triscs and spirals, and hundreds of the elongated, much-entwined shapes of animals and men. I recognized this adornment; it was that which the Celts of old made with such zeal and delight. There were also innumerable crosses carved on the walls and floors, many with odd runelike symbols which I could not read.

The room, unforgiving in its square, spare simplicity, seemed to dance to the rhythm and movement of those wonderful carvings. To stand and gaze upon floor and walls and roof was to inhabit a psalm or a glad song of praise. I filled my eyes with the graceful dance of the room, and felt my spirit rise up within me.

'Truly, this is a sacred place,' I said.

'An ancient place,' Gereint replied. 'Look how – '

'Listen!' I held up my hand to quiet him.

There came the sound of a soft footfall – someone was moving along the wall outside. Gereint made a flattening motion with his hand and silently stepped to the doorway, sword ready.

I stood stock-still, straining into the silence. There came no shouts, no cries of help or alarm. I held my breath and heard only the rapid beating of my own heart. And then -