He looked at me as though I had lost my wits, and made no attempt to lower his voice, "Out where, boy? She's not 'out' anywhere. She's safe and snug in a stone hut with a fireplace and a strong roof in a valley that's as secret as this place isn't."
Almost panicked by the loudness of his voice, I grasped him by the arm and pulled him aside, to where we could stand in an angle of the walls of a building without being jostled or overheard. "For the love of Jesus, Daffyd, keep your voice down. Remember the girl's life is at stake!"
He freed his arm from my grasp and adjusted the folds of his long cape, glancing casually at the passers-by as he chastised me for my unthinking use of my aunt's prayer which had, on my lips, become an oath. "For the love of Jesus, is it?" he murmured, out of the corner of his mouth, "I am a Druid, boyo. What would I know about the love of your Jesus? But the girl is safe hidden. Nobody is going to bother her there, except perhaps you." He cleared his throat and continued, "She's a strong girl, your Cassandra, and healthy as a horse now, too. No need to look after that one. Not any more." His expression changed and he smiled at me, stepping close to grip my shoulder with his free hand. "She's happy there in your valley, Merlyn. Perhaps happier than she's been in a long time. Who knows? She has food and a clear pool for fish and for water and she can snare rabbits better than I can. She's happy there. No threats, you see.
"She'll be waiting for you to go and see her. Now the rest is up to you. Remember, though, what she has been through. She trusts you now, but who knows what she thinks of men in her mind? You know what I mean? If you can treat her gently, kindly, you might make a fine, full woman out of her, but run at her like one of your great, rutting stallions, and I won't be responsible for what you'll do to her, or she to you. Remember that, Merlyn. There is a young woman who has been hurt in ways that you and I can't even begin to imagine, let alone understand. Do you hear me?"
"Aye, Daffyd, I hear you. I know what you mean. Are you sure she has enough food?"
"Food? That one? She'd charm honey out of the bees! She will be fine. Next time you pass that way, take her some flour and some salt. That's all she'll need. And don't worry about her. She has a home and it's the perfect place for her. Leave her to enjoy it for a while and then go and see her. But be careful, Merlyn. Don't hurt her, boy."
That hurt me. "Do you think I could?"
"I know you could, without intending any harm at all, so be careful with her. Now I have to go, and so, by the dress of you, do you."
"No, I'm done. I've been on parade. Now I have some free time before I have to meet with my father."
"Then go your way, boyo, and let me go on mine."
I thanked him again and watched him depart, then returned to my quarters, my mind full of one single truth: the woman who had become the centre of my existence was alone in my valley, unknown to anyone else in the world except Daffyd, Mod, Tumac and my father, and she was waiting there for me.
I had loved that tiny, secret valley all my life, and now it had become the home of my love and nothing could have been more appropriate. During the course of that morning, the people I dealt with must have wondered if I was ill, for I was oblivious of where I was and what I was doing. My valley and its precious secret stole the whole of my concentration. It never left my mind for a moment, and a whimsy that I had been toying with for more than a week became a reality. It was my valley, my secret, sacred place, with its silent, sliding waterfall and its deep pool, its moss-covered cliffs, rich grass and stately, screening trees, nestled in the central bowl of the hill there, and I felt that it should have a name that reflected its peaceful solitude and its mystical seclusion. I named it Avalon, after the fabulous place of legend.
That same day, shortly after noon, filled with an almost painful anticipation that left me unable to bear the tedium of my daily duties any longer, I delegated the last of my tasks to a subordinate and left Camulod, riding far south before doubling back and around, away from curious eyes, to the valley and Cassandra.
My intestines seemed to have tied themselves in knots as I approached the entrance to the valley and began to descend between the high banks of bushes that lined the path all the way to the bottom. I had spent the entire journey trying to visualize the expression that would come into her eyes when she saw me. Would they show pleasure or anger—or indifference, Which would be even worse? The doubts that assailed me left me feeling sick. In vain I tried to reassure myself that I was merely being foolish, acting like a callow, lovesick boy. But reason had no place among my hopes and fears. At times I would imagine her face lighting up with pleasure at my approach, and then I felt light-headed and elated, but for the most part, I saw her face within my mind registering an endless range of frowns, bleak looks and glances of displeasure and resentment.
All of my agonizing was as nothing, however, beside the despair that swept over me when I reached the valley bottom, because the vale lay empty and abandoned-looking. No smoke rose from the fireplace to spread out above the water, and the entire scene had that air of emptiness that bespeaks an utter lack of human presence. Stunned with disbelief, I felt a massive emptiness within me that resonated with bereavement. My horse, sensing no guidance from my slackened muscles, moved forward slowly towards the tiny building and came to a halt some paces from the door, where he stooped his head and began to crop while I sat gazing hopelessly at the mossy red roof tiles of the hut. The sound of tearing grass was loud in my ears, amplified by the silence that lay heavily around me.
Stiff-legged, I kicked my feet free of the stirrups and dismounted, resting my full weight against my horse's shoulder before straightening up and moving to the door of the hut. It swung open slowly at my touch and I stepped into the dimly lit, shadow-filled interior, so sure of finding it barren that I almost missed seeing the cloth that lay upon the small table, tented and mounded by the shapes it covered. A half-pace took me within reach of the table and I leaned across it to remove the cloth, uncovering a wooden platter, a small, sharp knife, an earthen cup, a squat, covered jug of wine, a partial loaf of bread and a crescent of dried sausage. Uncomprehending, I asked myself why, having prepared a meal, she would have left the valley without eating it. It took some time for the realization to filter through my confusion that she had not run off, and that this meal was awaiting her return. Instantly my despair turned to elation, so that I startled my poor horse as I burst through the door of the hut again, throwing it back on its hinges with a crash. She was here, somewhere! Giddy with relief, I reeled around like a drunkard, looking upward to the summit of the hills that hemmed me in, as though I could divine her presence from the air that separated us.
Behind me, I heard a fish jump in the lake, a heavy, clean, plopping sound, and I spun to watch the ripples spreading outward from the spot where it had breached. Then as I watched, another splash occurred mere paces from the first, although this time my gaze was close enough to see that nothing had preceded the sudden, singular sound of the splash—no swirl in the water, no flash of colour, nothing but that solitary, unheralded, plummeting impact upon the water. Alert now, I watched and waited, although for what I could not have said. And then I caught a blur of movement and my eye adjusted to it in time to see the water split again, sundered by a falling stone! Someone was hurling pebbles high into the air from the deep brush on the other side of the water. Keen-eyed now, I watched carefully and saw a movement, and another stone arced high into the air and seemed to hover against the sky before beginning its fall.