Taran snatched at his sword. A hand was clapped over his mouth, stifling his shout, and he was dragged rapidly toward the foaming wavelets, to be flung silently down amid the stones.
'Make no sound!' Gwydion's voice whispered the command.
Taran went limp, with relief. Overhead, Magg lowered himself from the mass of stones and passed no more than a dozen paces from the two crouching figures. Gwydion, clinging to the rocks above the surf, motioned for Taran to stay hidden. The Chief Steward, without a backward glance, hastened once more along the sea wall, heading for the castle.
'Seize him!' Taran urged. 'A ship rides at anchor. I saw him signal it. We must make him tell us what he is about.'
Gwydion shook his head. His green eyes followed the retreating Magg and his lips drew tightly against his teeth in the lean smile of a stalking wolf. He still wore the rags of the shoemaker; but Dyrnwyn, the black sword, now hung at his belt. 'Let him go,' he murmured. 'The game is not played out.'
'But the signal,' Taran began.
Gwydion nodded. 'I, too, saw it. I have been keeping watch over the castle since I left you. Though a moment ago,' he added, with some severity, 'I feared an Assistant Pig-Keeper would stumble into a snare set to catch a traitor., Would you serve me? Then return at once to the castle. Stay close by the Princess.'
'Dare we let Magg go unhindered?' Taran asked.
'He must go unhindered for a time, at least,' replied Gwydion. 'The shoemaker will soon put down his awl and take up the sword. Until then, keep silent. I would not spoil Magg's scheme before I learn more of it.
'The fisherfolk of Mona have already told a curious and harmless shoemaker part of what he must know,' Gwydion continued. 'Enough to be certain of one thing: Achren is aboard that vessel.
'Yes,' Gwydion went on as Taran drew a sharp breath, 'this much I suspected. Achren herself would not dare strike directly against Eilonwy. The castle is strong and well-guarded, only treachery could open its gates. Achren needed a hand to do her bidding. Now I know whose it is.'
Gwydion frowned deeply as he spoke on. 'But why?' he murmured almost to himself. 'Too much still remains hidden. If it is as I fear…' He shook his head quickly. 'It does not please me to use Eilonwy as unwitting bait for a trap, but I cannot do otherwise.'
'Magg can be watched,' Taran said, 'but what of Achren?'
'I must find some means to learn her plan as well as Magg's,' replied Gwydion. 'Go quickly now,' he ordered. 'Soon all may grow clear. So I hope, for I would not see the Princess Eilonwy long in peril.'
Taran hastened to obey Gwydion's command. Leaving the Prince of Don at the harbor, he made his way with all speed up the winding path to the castle, found the opening in the wall, and pressed through it into the dark courtyard. Eilonwy, he knew, would not be safe so long as Magg had the freedom of the castle. But Magg, at least, could be watched. The terror that chilled Taran's heart came from the ship waiting in the night. Memory of Achren, beautiful and merciless, again returned to him. From a day long past he recalled her livid face, her voice that had spoken so softly of torment and death. It was her shadow that loomed behind the treacherous Chief Steward.
He hurried silently across the courtyard. A dim light shone from one of the chambers. Stealthily, Taran moved toward it, raised himself on tiptoe, and peered through the casement. In the glow of an oil lamp he saw the Chief Steward. Magg clutched a long dagger which he brandished in the air, all the while making fierce grimaces. After a time he hid the weapon in his garments, then picked up a small looking glass into which he smiled, pursed his lips, and eyed himself with glances of deep satisfaction. Taran watched with rage and horror, hardly able to keep from bursting in upon him. With a final smirk, the Chief Steward put out the lamp. Taran clenched his fists, turned away, and entered the castle.
At Eilonwy's chamber he found Gurgi crouched on the flagstones. Rumpled and half-asleep, Gurgi blinked and sprang to his feet. Kaw, as tousled as Gurgi himself, popped his head from under his wing.
'All is quiet,' Gurgi whispered. 'Yes, yes, watchful Gurgi has not moved from portal! Valiant, sleepy Gurgi keeps noble Princess from harmful hurtings. His poor tender head is heavy, but it does not nod, oh no!'
'You have done well,' Taran said. 'Sleep, my friend. Go and rest that poor tender head of yours and I shall stay here until daylight.'
While Gurgi, yawning and rubbing his eyes, crept down the corridor, Taran took his place before the chamber. He sank to the flagstones and, with hand on sword, rested his head on his knees and fought against his own weariness. Once or twice, despite his efforts, he drowsed, then started up suddenly. The vaulted corridor slowly lightened in the rising dawn. With relief Taran saw the first rays of morning and at last allowed himself to close his eyes.
'Taran of Caer Dallben!'
He stumbled to his feet and clutched his blade. Eilonwy, looking fresh and well-rested, stood in the doorway.
'Taran of Caer Dallben!' she declared. 'I nearly tripped over you! Whatever in the world are you doing?'
Befuddled, Taran could only stammer that he found the hallway more comfortable than his chamber.
Eilonwy shook her head. 'That,' she remarked, 'is the silliest thing I've heard this morning. I may hear something sillier, because it's early yet, but I doubt it. I'm beginning to think the ways of Assistant Pig-Keepers are quite beyond me.' She shrugged. 'In any case, I'm going to breakfast. After you wash your face and untangle your hair, you might have some too. It would do you good. You look as jumpy as a frog with fleas!'
Without waiting for Taran to shake the sleep from his head, and before he could stop her, Eilonwy disappeared down the corridor. Taran hurried after her. Even in the bright morning he felt shadows cling to him like black spider webs. By now, he hoped, Gwydion had discovered Achren's plan. But Magg still went free. Taran, recalling the Chief Steward's hidden dagger, had no intention of letting Eilonwy out of his sight for an instant.
'Hullo, hullo!' His round face glowing as if he had just scrubbed it, Prince Rhun popped out of his chamber just as Taran passed by. 'Going to breakfast?' cried the Prince, clapping Taran on the shoulder. 'Good! So am I.'
'Then we shall meet in the Great Hall,' Taran hastily replied, striving to shake himself loose from Rhun's friendly grasp.
'Amazing how one's appetite grows during the night,' Prince Rhun went on. 'Oh, by the way, did you ever manage to rouse the tailors?'
'Tailors?' Taran answered impatiently. 'What tailors? Oh? yes, yes, they have done what I asked,' he quickly added, peering down the corridor.
'Splendid!' cried Rhun. 'I wish I had the same good fortune. Do you know, that shoemaker never did finish my sandals? He'd only just begun, then off he went, and that was the end of them.'
'It may be he had a more important task to do,' Taran replied. 'As do I?'
'What could be more important to a shoemaker than making shoes?' asked Rhun. 'However…' He snapped his fingers. 'Ah! I knew there was something. I've forgotten my cloak. Hold on, I shall only be a moment.'
'Prince Rhun,' Taran cried, 'I must join the Princess Eilonwy.'
'We shall be there directly,' called Rhun from the chamber. 'Oh, drat! There goes my sandal lace broken! I do wish that shoemaker had finished his work!'
Leaving the Prince of Mona still rummaging in the chamber, Taran sped anxiously to the Great Hall. King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria were already at table, the Queen surrounded, as always, by her ladies. Taran looked quickly about him. Magg, usually in attendance, was not there.
Nor was there any sign of Eilonwy.
Chapter 5
The Oath
WHERE IS EILONWY?' Taran cried, as King Rhuddlum and Queen Teleria stared at him in astonishment. 'Where is Magg? He's made off with her! Sire, I beg you. Turn out your guard. Help me find them. Eilonwy is in danger of her life!'
'What, what?' Queen Teleria clucked. 'Magg? The Princess? You're overwrought, young man. Perhaps the sea air? don't shake so and wave your arms about? has gone to your dead. Because someone isn't here for breakfast doesn't mean they're in danger. Does it, my dear?' she asked, turning to the King.
