Glyneth rinsed the iron pot, stowed it in the locker with the tripod. Carfilhiot rose to his feet, stretched. Glyneth eyed him askance as he went to the back of the wagon, reached within and brought out a pallet which he spread beside the fire.
Glyneth whispered into Dhrun's ear; together they went to the wagon, Carfilhiot stood behind them. "Where are you going?"
"To bed," said Glyneth. "Where else?"
Carfilhiot seized Dhrun and lofted him into the wagon, then closed and barred the door. "Tonight," he told Glyneth, "you and I will bed by the fire, and tomorrow you will have much to think about."
Glyneth tried to run behind the wagon, but Carfilhiot seized her arm. "Save your energy," he told her. "You will find yourself becoming tired presently, but you won't want to stop."
Inside the wagon Dhrun snatched up his pipes and began to play, in a passion of fury and helpless grief for what was happening to Glyneth. The golden bees, about to relax for the night, with only an occasional warm buzzing to remind Dhrun of their presence, flew a set of resentful loops, but Dhrun played only the harder.
Carfilhiot jumped to his feet and strode to the wagon. "Put an end to the streedle! It grinds on my nerves!"
Dhrun played with an even greater fervor which almost lifted him from his seat. The golden bees flew in zig-zag courses, turned erratic somersaults and finally in despair flew from Dhrun's eyes altogether. Dhrun played all the louder.
Carfilhiot went to the door. "I will come inside; I will break your pipes and deal you such buffets as to silence you very still."
Dhrun played on and the piping excited the bees so that they flew back and forth across the wagon, careening from side to side.
Carfilhiot raised the bar from the door. Dhrun put down the pipes and spoke: "Dassenach, to hand!"
Carfilhiot threw open the door. The bees flew out and struck his face; he recoiled, and so saved his life, as the blade hissed past his neck. He uttered a startled curse, then, seizing the sword, wrested it from Dhrun's grip and threw it into the underbrush.
Dhrun kicked at his face; Carfilhiot seized the foot and sent Dhrun reeling back into the wagon.
"No more noise!" panted Carfilhiot. "No more pounding or piping, or I will do you harm!"
He slammed the door and threw the bar. He turned to Glyneth, only to find her scrambling up into the branches of a massive old oak tree. He ran across the clearing but already she was out of his reach. He climbed after her, but she climbed higher and out to the end of a branch which sagged beneath her weight, and Carfilhiot dared not follow.
He spoke, first cajoling, then pleading, then threatening, but she made no response, and sat quietly among the leaves. Carfilhiot spoke in a final threat, which made her blood run cold; then he descended the tree. Had he an axe he would have chopped away the branch which supported her, or the tree itself, and let her die.
All the night long Glyneth huddled in the tree, cramped and miserable. Carfilhiot, on the pallet beside the fire, seemed to sleep, although from time to time he stirred to throw wood on the fire, and Glyneth was afraid to descend.
Inside the wagon Dhrun lay on his own couch, exultant in his regained sight, but sick with horror at imagined events outside by the fire.
Dawn slowly illuminated the cart. Carfilhiot arose from the pallet, and looked up into the tree. "Come down; it is time to be going."
"I don't care to come down."
"Suit yourself. I am leaving, nonetheless."
Carfilhiot harnessed the horses and led them into the traces, where they stood trembling and pawing the ground in detestation for their new master.
With growing concern, Glyneth saw the preparations. Carfilhiot watched her from the corner of his eye. At last he called up:
"Come down and get into the wagon. Else I will bring Dhrun out and strangle him before your eyes. Then I will climb the tree and throw a rope over the branch, and I will pull down on the rope so that the branch breaks. I will catch you, or perhaps I won't and you will be sorely hurt. In either case I will have you, to do as I like."
"If I come down you will do the same." Carfilhiot said: "In truth, I am no longer in the mood for your sour little body, so come down."
"Let Dhrun from the wagon first."
"Why?"
"I am afraid of you."
"How can he help?"
"He'd find some way. You don't know Dhrun."
Carfilhiot threw open the door. "Come out, you little lizard."
Dhrun had overheard the conversation with great joy; it seemed that Glyneth had evaded Carfilhiot. Feigning blindness, he groped for the door and descended to the ground, though he found it hard to control his exultation. How beautiful the world looked! How green the trees, how noble the horses! He had never before seen Dr. Fidelius' wagon: gaudy, tall and eccentric of proportion. And here was Glyneth, as dear and pretty as ever, though now she was pale and strained, and her blonde curls were tangled around dry twigs and oak leaves.
Dhrun stood by the wagon, peering into nothingness. Carfilhiot threw the pallet into the wagon. Dhrun watched him furtively. So this was the enemy! Dhrun had imagined him older, with ropy features and a mottled nose, but Carfilhiot was clear-eyed and splendidly handsome.
"Into the wagon," said Carfilhiot. "Quick, the both of you."
"Fiirst my cats must have a run!" cried Glyneth. "And something to eat! I'll give them some cheese."
"If there is cheese, bring it here," said Carfilhiot. "The cats can eat grass, and tonight all of us may eat cat."
Glyneth made no response, and gave Carfilhiot the cheese without comment. The cats took their exercise, and would have prolonged the occasion. Glyneth was compelled to speak sternly before they would return to their baskets. And once again the wagon drove south.
Inside the wagon Dhrun exclaim to Glyneth: "I can see! Last night the bees flew from my eyes! They are as good as ever! My eyes, not the bees."
"Sh!" said Glyneth. "That is wonderful news! But we must not let Carfilhiot know! He is as crafty as he is terrible."
"I will never be sad again," said Dhrun. "No matter what happens.
I will think back to the time when the world was dark."
"I would feel happier if we were riding with someone else," said Glyneth wistfully. "I spent all last night in a tree."
"If he dares touch you, I will cut him in pieces," declared Dhrun.
"Don't forget! I can see now."
"Perhaps it won't come to that. Tonight he may be thinking of other things... I wonder if Shimrod is trying to find us?"
"He can't be too far behind."
The wagon rolled south, and an hour after noon arrived at the market-town Honriot, where Carfilhiot bought bread, cheese, apples and a jug of wine.
In the center of Honriot, Icnield Way crossed the East-West Road; Carfilhiot drove to the west urging the horses to ever greater speed, as if he too anticipated the coming of Shimrod. Snorting, shaking their manes, heads low to the ground or sometimes raised on high, the great black horses plunged west, their soft tiger feet thrusting back the ground. Behind trundled the wagon, wheels bounding, the body swaying on its long laminated easy-ways.
Occasionally Carfilhiot used his whip, cracking it upon the glistening black haunches, and the horses tossed their heads in rage.
"Take care, take care!" they cried back. "We obey the instruction of your reins, because that is the way it must be; but do not presume, or we might turn and rear over you and flail down our great black feet, and drag you to the dirt and stamp you into the ground! Hear, and have a care!"
Carfilhiot could not understand their speech and used the whip as suited his pleasure; and the horses tossed their heads in evermounting fury.