When the rains had abated, the child was taken in to King Morvidus; who, seeing the babe so hale, its face a very likeness of his own, was heard to say,—Behold, mine own son; he has come to bring cheer to our castle; all that I have shall be his.
And then did the King call for his men, to see his son all pink and round, a-mewling in his mother’s arms; brave Kaswallan did he call, saying,—In all your days my general, have you seen one such as him? And Kaswallan in reply,—No, my liege; he bears the brow of the warrior born; and who would know it but I. Then called the King to his chamber two more: Seisil, who kept the counting-house, and Madauc, his magician; Eadman the strong, who guarded the castle gate, and Saewulf the navigator; and many more did he name, saying, let them come, to see my good prince. And when that his men saw their King all red-cheeked for joy, they clapped their hands to-gether and joined their voices in song, to welcome Prince Gorbonian.
Now Morvidus was greatly moved by their merriment, and listed to them with keen ear; and at last he bid them be silent, saying,—Long will I remember my friends, who came to share this day with me: nor will they want for aught, while I draw breath.
2.
Now shall I tell how young Gorbonian was learned in the ways of piety. As a boy he showed reverence always to gods of the hearth, be they ever so strange; for oft had his mother sayd to him, that a custom only is strange, if that it be one unfamiliar. And she told him, truly were the gods of this kingdom once afoot in these fields; and instructed him in lore long lost.
To the boy, who did love to go all a-wandering, his mother’s words would often return. For sometime in the forest, and betimes by the sea-coast, where caves with bone-white walls did beckon, he might encounter a nest of birds unknown to him, or some fire-pit dug by none knows who, the sand beneath it charred black, or such stones as might be used to scry the shape of future days. And should those stones gleam, or the fire-pit seem to tell some tale, then would he say,—I know this not; and yet does it please me; and so his pockets were often heavy with sticks, or clay, or scraps gathered from along the wayside.
Befell it on a day that Gorbonian sought adventure, and called to his friends in the castle-town,—Ho, good Braith! Come away with me! Ho, Hedyn! Wouldst seek treasure hidden in the hills? For his mother was a good Queen, his Queen a good mother; no child was of too low estate to prove a playmate for her son. But none came, that day; for, they said, the signs were for rain. The spoils of adventure be mine alone! Replied the Prince; and so saying, set out alone, as, to tell plainly, he oft did, wondering that the secrets of the world did best reveal themselves in times of solitude.
Ere long, as shadows grew upon the land, he came upon a path within those low-lands, ascending to the place called Witches Keep. Now this place looked inward to the kingdom, its back to the brine; and long had the Queen forbidden the Prince to venture sea-side, for that he was her only son.
Now tales told of Witches Keep were many, and long had he sung their strains; for oft will young boys gather, to trade in lore and legend. But the Prince did doubt the better part of these; For, said he, if there were giants, where then are their bones; and, if there are fairies, what becomes of their wings.
Thus did he regard most idle talk of those haunted hills; but, at bed-chamber, when his nurse-maid Meri would regale him with fables of her people to the east, then would his mind set all a-wandering. Most did he marvel, when she sang “The Clan of the Ogre’s Cave”; for it told of a place where people of old had lived, who now were gone.—They were known in their time, she did sing, but they are no more; they were known and they are no more, and all in the ogre’s cave, while that the young Prince did drift into dreaming.
Came he now as the late sun sank to the cave by Witches Keep; and the cold of the evening did creep, and his skin shiver. Then by the cave-mouth, to speak truly, did the son of the King tarry: For the telling of tales is one thing, and the turf of the telling another. And yet, from within, it seemed a voice, or, as may be, an echo, did call, saying,—Come, see how we are.
Then, peering in, he saw the late light cast upon the wall, as a lantern lights a stable; and said,—What things are these? For all about were old cloaks, eaten by moth and mold; and among them, blackened torches brake in half, and bones besides: not those of men, but of pigs, and hens, and fish. Mean fare for an ogre, bethought the boy; but the empty air within did say to him, that all inside had long awaited one coming, to see that which would fade from memory, save that one might venture forth who dared to witness. And so did his eyes follow the light all around, in wonder at these remnants of times unremembered.