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toward Taran and his companions.
"Disarm them and bind them fast."
Chapter 19
The War Lord
BEFORE THE STARTLED TARANcould draw his blade, a guard seized him and quickly lashed his
arms behind his back. The bard, too, was seized. Screaming and kicking, Eilonwy fought vainly. For an
instant Gurgi broke loose from his captors and flung himself toward King Morgant. But a warrior struck
him brutally to the ground, leaped astride the limp figure, and trussed him tightly.
"Traitor!" Eilonwy shrieked. "Liar! You dare to steal..."
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"Silence her," Morgant said coldly, and in another moment a gag muffled her cries.
Frantically Taran struggled to reach the girl's side, before he was thrown down and his legs secured with
thongs. Morgant watched silently, his features fixed and without expression. The guards stepped away
from the helpless companions. Morgant gestured for the warriors to leave the tent.
Taran, whose head still spun with confusion and disbelief, strained against his bonds. "You are already a
traitor," he cried. "Will you now be a murderer? We are under the protection of Gwydion; you will not
escape his wrath!"
"I do not fear Gwydion," answered Morgant, "and his protection is worthless to you now. Worthless,
indeed, to all Prydain. Even Gwydion is powerless against the Cauldron-Born."
Taran stared at him in horror. "You would not dare to use the Crochan against your own kinsmen, your
own people. This is even more foul than treachery and murder!"
"Do you believe so?" Morgant replied. "Then you have more lessons to learn than that of obedience. The
cauldron belongs to him who knows how to keep it and how to use it. It is a weapon ready for a hand.
For years Arawn was master of the cauldron, yet he lost it. Is this not proof he was unworthy, that he did
not have the strength or cunning to prevent its slipping from his grasp ? Ellidyr, the proud fool, believed
he could keep it. He is hardly fit to be cast into it."
"What," Taran cried, "will you set yourself to rival Arawn?"
"To rival him?" Morgant asked with a hard smile. "No. To surpass him. I know my worth, though I have
chafed in the service of lesser men than I. Now I see the moment is ripe. There are few," he continued
haughtily, "who understand the uses of power. And few who dare use it when it is offered them.
"Power such as this was offered once to Gwydion," Morgant went on. "He refused it. I shall not fail to
take it. Shall you?"
"I?" asked Taran, with a terrified glance at Morgant.
King Morgant nodded. His eyes were hooded, but his falcon's face was keen and avid. "Gwydion has
spoken of you," he said. "He told me little, but that little is of interest. You are a bold youth--- and
perhaps more than that. How much more, I do not know. But I do know you are without family, without
name or future. You can expect nothing. And yet," Morgant added, "you can expect everything,
"I would not offer this to one such as Ellidyr," Morgant continued. "He is too prideful, weakest where he
believes himself strong. Do you remember I told you that I know good mettle? There is much that is
possible with you, Taran of Caer Dallben. And this is what I offer--- swear that you shall serve me as
your liege lord and when the time is right you shall be my war leader, second only to me in all Prydain."
"Why do you offer me this?" Taran cried. "Why should you choose me?"
"As I have said," Morgant answered, "there is much you might achieve, if the way is opened for you. Do
not deny you have dreamed long of glory. It is not impossible for you to find it, if I judge you well."
"Judge me well," Taran flung back, "and you would know I scorn to serve an evil traitor!"
"I have no time to hear you vent your rage," Morgant said. "Many plans must be made between now and
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dawn. I shall leave you with this to consider: will you be first among my warriors--- or first among my
Cauldron-Born?"
"Give me to the cauldron, then!" Taran shouted. "Cast me in it now, even as I live!"
"You have called me traitor," Morgant answered, smiling. "Do not call me fool. I, too, know the secret
of the cauldron. Do you think I would have the Crochan shatter even before it began its work? Yes," he
went on, "I, too, have been to the Marshes of Morva, long before the cauldron was taken from Annuvin.
For I knew that sooner or later Gwydion must make this move against Arawn. And so I prepared myself.
Did you pay a price for the Crochan? I, too, paid a price for the knowledge of its workings. I know how
to destroy it, and I know how to make it yield a harvest of power.
"But you were bold, nonetheless, to hope to trick me," Morgant added. "You fear me," he said, drawing
closer to Taran, "and there are many in Prydain who do. Yet you defy me. To dare that, there are few.
This is rare metal indeed, ready to be tempered."
Taran was about to speak, but the war lord raised his hand. "Say no more. Instead, think carefully. If
you refuse, you shall become a voiceless, mindless slave, without even hope of death to release you from
your bondage."
Taran's heart sank, but he raised his head proudly. "If that is the destiny laid on me..."
"It will be a harder destiny than you believe," Morgant said, his eyes flickering. "A warrior does not fear
to give up his own life. But will he sacrifice that of his comrades?"
Taran gasped with horror as Morgant went on.
"Yes," said the war lord, "one by one your companions shall be slain and given to the Crochan. Who will
it devour before you cry a halt? Will it be the bard? Or the shabby creature that serves you? Or the
young Princess? They shall go before you, even as you watch. And, at the last, yourself.
"Weigh this carefully," said the war lord. "I shall return for your answer." He flung his black cloak about
his shoulders and strode from the tent.
Taran struggled against his bonds, but they held firm. He sank back and bowed his head.
The bard, who had been silent this while, heaved a sorrowful sigh. "In the Marshes of Morva," he said,
"if I had only known, I should have asked Orddu to change me into a toad. At the time I didn't care for
the idea. As I think of it now, it's a happier life than being a Cauldron warrior. At least there would have
been dew circles to dance in."
He will not succeed in this," Taran said. "Somehow, we must find a way to escape. We dare not lose
hope."
"I agree absolutely," Fflewddur answered. "Your general idea is excellent; it's only the details that are
lacking. Lose hope? By no means! A Fflam is always hopeful! I intend to go on hoping," he added
ruefully, "even when they come and pop me into the Crochan."
Gurgi and Ellidyr still lay unconscious, but Eilonwy had not ceased working furiously at the gag and now
at last she succeeding in forcing it out of her mouth.
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"Morgant!" she gasped. "He'll pay for this! Why, I thought I'd stifle! He might have kept me from talking, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]