Suldrun sat beside the lime tree and looked out over the sea. "I wonder," she asked herself, "what will become of me? I am beautiful, so everyone says, but it has brought me only bane. Why am I punished, as if I had done wrong? Somehow I must bestir myself; I must make a change."
After her evening meal she wandered down to the ruined villa, where she liked best, on clear nights, to watch the stars. Tonight they showed an extraordinary brilliance and seemed to address themselves to her, like wonderful children brimming with secrets... She rose to her feet and stood listening. Imminence hung in the air; its meaning she could not decide.
The night breeze became cool; Suldrun retreated up through the garden. In the chapel, coals yet smouldered in the fireplace. Suldrun blew them ablaze, lay on dry driftwood and the room became warm.
In the morning, wakening very early, she went out into the dawn. Dew lay heavy on foliage and grass; the silence had a primitive quality. Suldrun went down through the garden, slow as a sleepwalker, down to the beach. Surf boomed up the shingle. The sun, rising, colored far clouds at the opposite horizon. At the southern curve of the beach, where currents brought driftwood, she noticed a human body which had floated in on the tide. Suldrun halted, then approached, step by step, and stared down in horror, which quickly became pity. What tragedy, that so cold a death had taken one so young, so wan, so comely...A wave stirred the young man's legs. His fingers spasmodically extended, clawed into the shingle. Suldrun dropped to her knees, pulled the body up from the water. She brushed back the sodden curls. The hands were bloody; the head was bruised. "Don't die," whispered Suldrun. "Please don't die!"
The eyelids flickered; eyes, glazed and filmed with sea-water, looked up at her, then closed.
Suldrun dragged the body up into dry sand. When she tugged the right shoulder he emitted a sad sound. Suldrun ran to the chapel, brought back coals and dry wood, and built up a fire. She wiped the cold face with a cloth. "Don't die," she said again and again.
His skin began to warm. Sunlight shone over the cliffs and down upon the beach. Aillas opened his eyes once more and wondered if indeed he had died, and now roamed the gardens of paradise with the most beautiful of all golden-haired angels to tend him.
Suldrun asked: "How do you feel?"
"My shoulder hurts." Aillas moved his arm. The twinge of pain assured him that he still lived. "Where is this place?"
"This is an old garden near Lyonesse Town. I am Suldrun." She touched his shoulder. "Do you think it's broken?"
"I don't know."
"Can you walk? I can't carry you up the hill."
Aillas tried to rise, but fell. He tried again, with Suldrun's arm around his waist, and stood swaying.
"Come now, I'll try to hold you."
Step by step they climbed up through the garden. At the ruins they stopped to rest. Aillas said weakly, "I must tell you that I am Troice. I fell from a ship. If I am captured I will be put in prison—at the very least."
Suldrun laughed. "You are already in a prison. Mine. I am not allowed to leave. Don't worry; I will keep you safe."
She helped him to his feet; at last they reached the chapel.
As best she could Suldrun immobilized Aillas' shoulder with bandages and withes and made him lie upon her couch. Aillas accepted her ministrations and lay watching her: what crimes had this beautiful girl committed that she should be so imprisoned? Suldrun fed him first honey and wine, then porridge. Aillas became warm and comfortable and fell asleep.
By evening Aillas' body burned with fever. Suldrun knew no remedy save damp cloths on the forehead. By midnight the fever cooled, and Aillas slept. Suldrun made herself as comfortable as possible on the floor before the fire.
In the morning Aillas awoke, half-convinced that his circumstances were unreal, that he was living a dream. Gradually he allowed himself to remember the Smaadra. Who had thrown him into the sea? Trewan? By reason of sudden madness? Why else? His manner since visiting the Troice cog at Ys had been most peculiar. What could have happened aboard the cog? What possibly could have driven Trewan past the brink of sanity?
On the third day Aillas decided that he had broken no bones and Suldrun eased his bandages. When the sun rose high the two descended into the garden and sat among the fallen columns of the old Roman villa. Through the golden afternoon they told each other of their lives. "This is not our first meeting," said Aillas. "Do you remember visitors from Troicinet about ten years ago? I remember you."
Suldrun reflected. "There have always been dozens of delegations. I seem to remember someone like you. It was so long ago; I can't be sure."
Aillas took her hand, the first time he had touched her in affection. "As soon as I am strong we will escape. It will be a simple affair to climb the stones yonder; then it's over the hill and away."
Suldrun spoke in a half-whisper, husky and fearful. "If we were captured"—she hunched her shoulders together—"the King would show us no pity."
In a subdued voice Aillas said: "We won't be captured! Especially if we plan well, and are all-cautious." He sat up straight, and spoke with great energy. "We will be free and away through the countryside! We'll travel by night and hide by day; we'll be one with the vagabonds, and who will know us?"
Aillas' optimism began to infect Suldrun; the prospect of freedom became exhilarating. "Do you really think we'll escape?"
"Of course! How could it be otherwise?"
Suldrun gazed pensively down the garden and over the sea. "I don't know. I have never expected to be happy. I am happy now—even though I am frightened." She laughed nervously. "It makes for a strange mood."
"Don't be frightened," said Aillas. Her nearness overwhelmed him; he put his arm around her waist. Suldrun jumped to her feet. "I feel as-if a thousand eyes are watching us!"
"Insects, birds, a lizard or two." Aillas scanned the cliffs. "I see no one else."
Suldrun looked up and down the garden. "Nor do I. Still..." She seated herself at a demure distance of three feet, and turned him an arch side-glance. "Your health seems to be on the mend."
"Yes. I feel very well, and I cannot bear to look at you without wanting to touch you." He moved close to her; laughing, she slid away.
"Aillas, no! Wait till your arm is better!"
"I'll be careful of my arm."
"Someone might come."
"Who would be so bold?"
"Bagnold. The priest Umphred. My father the King."
Aillas groaned. "Destiny could not be so unkind."
Suldrun said in a soft voice: "Destiny doesn't really care."
Night came to the garden. Sitting before the fire the two supped on bread, onions and mussels which Suldrun had gathered from the tidal rocks. Once again they talked of escape. Suldrun said wistfully, "Perhaps I will feel strange away from this garden. Every tree, every stone, is known to me... But, since you came, everything is different. The garden is going from me." Looking into the fire, she gave a little shiver.
"What is wrong?" asked Aillas.
"I am afraid."
"Of what?"
"I don't know."
"We could leave tonight, but for my arm. Another few days and I'll be strong again. In the meantime we must plan. The woman who brings your food; what of her?"
"At noon she brings a basket and takes back the empty basket from the day before. I never speak to her."
"Could she be bribed?"
"To do what?"
"To bring the food as usual, discard it, and take back the empty basket next day. With a week's start, we could be far away and never fear capture."