Presently her guide came to a halt in what seemed to be a large chamber at the bottom of the tunnel; he put his
fingers between his lips and whistled shrilly. Almost at once another man, equally small and hairy, appeared out of the dark, blinking at the lantern as if he were distressed by its light
The two men conferred together in a musical foreign language, then the second one tugged forward a pair of animals which he had been leading; Arabis nearly dropped her basket at the sight of them, for in the whole of her life she had never laid eyes on such peculiar-looking creatures. They were about the size of donkeys, but had big, flat, shuffling padded feet instead of hoofs; their necks were long and swaying, their backs curiously bumpy, their expressions sardonic, and they were covered with long, shaggy black fur, which was moulting here and there; some of the looser hanks were tied up with bits of string. They smelt strongly and disagreeably of fish.
Her guide gestured her forward; Arabis realized that she was expected to climb on to one of these animals; each wore a sort of saddle, adapted to the strange shape of their backs. The second man thumped them with his fist and they knelt down on the rock making a noise, half snarl, half snuffle, which gave Arabis little confidence in their good intentions. However, she mounted, perching her basket and lantern in front of her (there was a bump, convenient for this purpose, on the animal's back), her guide also mounted, calling out some word of command, and the other man stood back.
The creatures heaved up awkwardly on to their feet and set forward into the dark. Their flat pads made little sound on the rock and Arabis found it hard to judge exactly how fast they were going, but it seemed very fast indeed; their
method of progress was to lurch forward until they were almost ready to topple over and then right themselves at the last minute; she soon felt as if all her bones were being pulled apart. She had often bestridden Galahad or the mountain ponies but this was utterly different, and the most uncomfortable ride she had ever taken.
I believe I know what these beasts are like, she presently thought, peering at the long flexible neck and rather sheeplike head in front of her, there is a picture in one of Dada's books about foreign lands. Camels. That is it, they are like camels.
She had pronounced the last word aloud and, to her surprise, for she had given up expecting her companion to speak to her, he suddenly gave a flashing smile, nodding his head up and down.
“Gamal, gamal!” he agreed, thumping his steed.
“They are really camels? But how do camels come to be in by here, under the mountain? That is a strange thing, surely?”
He answered in his own incomprehensible tongue. She would have liked to ask more: why were the camels so small and dwarfish, their bumps flattened out, how was it they could see in the dark? But there seemed little point in asking if she could not understand his answers.
“Owen will know,” she thought. “Very likely in his little Book of Knowledge it will be giving the whole explanation. But camels underground in Walesâwho would have thought it, indeed!”
Meanwhile the camels had been speeding along an apparently endless, straight, level underground passage which ran alongside an underground river. Arabis, while not exactly
alarmed, began to be somewhat anxious because they were covering such a distance; “At this rate,” she thought, “it will be daybreak before I so much as reach my patient, and gracious to goodness knows when I shall get back home again; Dada will have to see to his own breakfast.”
She was not afraid that Tom would be worried about her, she knew him better than that. If she were to be absent for a week together he would do little more than lift his head from his poetry and murmur, “Dear, dear, Arabis not back yet, then?” before dashing down another verse.
After an interminably long ride, during which Arabis was able to doze a little, holding on to the pommel of her saddle, the tunnel brought them into a vast cavern which was illuminated by clusters of pale phosphorescent lights hanging far above.
They were still following the course of the river which crossed the floor of the cave in a deep channel. The water, running smooth and silent, was a pale milky green, cloudy but most beautiful, and was evidently hot; wreaths of steam rose from its surface. Far ahead Arabis could see a series of massive pipes, like those of some enormous church organ, which ran up the cave wall and were lost to view in the gloom overhead; the river appeared to flow into these pipes, but how the water was persuaded to run perpendicularly upwards, Arabis could not imagine, nor where this great underground hall could be; they must, she was sure, be very far from Nant Agerddau, perhaps beneath the Fforest Mwyaf.
Now they left the river and entered a narrow dark opening concealed among rocks where they came to a halt. The guide made signs that Arabis must dismount here. She was
not sorry to do so. No sooner had she slid stiffly down than yet another small dark figure appeared and led the camels away into the shadows while her companion, again respectfully taking her hand, drew her along a narrow track, which, climbing at a steeper and steeper angle, presently changed to a flight of rude stairs cut in the thickness of the rock. One thing soon began to puzzle Arabis very much and alarm her a little: the rock here seemed to vibrate, as if constantly battered by some powerful force, and she could hear a sort of booming hum, which sometimes became very loud.
This noise abated slightly as they climbed and presently a little daylight could be seen ahead; after several turns in the stair they came to a cleft in the rock wall. Arabis stood on tiptoe and looked through this hole, in the hope of discovering where she was.
“Wchw!” she exclaimed in utter astonishment. “No wonder I was thinking it a long way. Fast goers those camels of yours are, indeed to goodness!”
Straight ahead, nothing could be seen but greenish dawn sky, with a couple of silvery seagulls floating across it. But when Arabis craned far out and looked down she could see, at a giddy depth below, great breakers crashing over jagged rocks at the foot of a cliff. And if she turned to look up she could see that the cliff continued towards the sky for many hundreds of feet.
“There's only one place I know of where the cliffs are as high as this,” Arabis muttered, “and that's south of Port Malyn, where the castle stands. But, Dewi Sant, who'd have thought we had come so far!”
There was no doubt of their location, though, for when
she leaned out farther still and looked to her left she could see a slender black-and-white finger thrusting from the waves, the Shambles Lighthouse, set there to warn shipping of dangerous shoals.
A gentle tug on her hand reminded her that her own position was none too safe, and also that a patient was waiting; she withdrew cautiously from the window-slit and followed up the stair once more.
They had not much farther to go.
The staircase here branched and divided into many narrow passages running hither and thither inside the cliff; each led to half a dozen or so cell-like chambers. Some of these were fairly large, some very small, but they all resembled one another in three respects; they were not natural caves, but had been quarried out not long ago by the tools of men; each had a tiny window-hole, looking out to sea; and each was furnished simply but with a richness that made Arabis gasp. Jugs, basins, and pails, the commonest utensils, were made, without exception, of pure, shining gold, beautifully worked. But there were no tables or chairs, no cupboards, no doors; the curtains and bedding were all made of thick, black, coarse materialâArabis guessed it to be woven camels' fur. In another sad particular all the dwellings were alike alsoâeach contained one or two sick people, sometimes three or four. Arabis was touched to the heart by the uncomplaining patience of these sufferers as they lay, wracked with coughing, feverish and heavy-eyed on their camel-fur pallets, men, women, and tiny children; their eyes followed her trustfully as she passed from cave to cave, dispensing medicines, pastilles, and powders, rubbing their chests with
wintergreen, bathing their foreheads with essence of mint and balm. They were all very alikeâsmall, dark, hairy people, pale-skinned, with lustrous flashing black eyes; very few seemed to have escaped the sickness, but those who were still able eagerly helped Arabis tend the others.
All too soon, of course, her stock of medicines began to run low; she had not brought nearly enough for so many patients.
“What is to be done now, just?” she considered. “If I go home for more, that wastes a terrible deal of time, and I am afeared some of them will die if they do not get help soon. I wonder if someone would take a message back to Dada, and then I could stay here looking after the rest.
“Can any of you understand me?” she asked the three or four who were assisting her, and tried to explain what she wanted. They shook their heads doubtfully; although they seemed to understand a word here and there, they could not grasp the whole message. Stepping aside they conferred together; she caught the name
Yehimelek
repeated several times. Then her original guide (she distinguished him by his cap) seized her hand again and led her along another passage to a cave she had not visited yet. This was larger than the rest, screened off by a camel-fur curtain, and occupied by one man only. He was plainly very oldâhis long beard and thick bushy hair and whiskers were perfectly white; he looked frail beyond belief, leaning back on a pile of camel-fur cushions. But the eyes in the wasted face were deep and dark and full of intelligence; his tone when he addressed Arabis was faint and hoarse but authoritative.
“On behalf of my people I, Tabut Elulaios Yehimelek,
Architect, Engineer, and Hereditary Foreman of the Children of the Pit, do thank you, lady, for your goodness in coming here to help us. I fear we can give you little in return except gold; of that, useles though it be, as much as our last seven camels can bear, you shall carry away if you wish.”
Here he was interrupted by a terrible fit of coughing, which made his slight body shake like a cobweb in the wind.
“There is glad I am to be able to help, sir,” Arabis said when he had recovered a little. “Indeed I am not wanting your gold, I thank you, but only to do a bit more. If I do write a message to my da at Nant Agerddau, could one of your people take it back to him? Then he could be bringing our wagon over to Port Malyn, and no need to go all that way for medicines, see?”
“Shishak!” the man on the couch called. The guide, who had waited outside, came in and bowed respectfully.
“Write your message,” Yehimelek told Arabis, “and Shishak will ride back with it. But, I beg you, ask your father to be secret, and not to mention this matter, or we shall be in danger of slavery and death.”
“No need to worry,” Arabis assured him, scribbling a note on the paper that had held a powder of foxgloves. “Not a one to gossip, my dada.” But she added the warning, folded the paper, and gave it to Shishak, who bowed again and departed at speed. “I have asked him to give Shishak as much medicine as he can carry, and to start himself for Port Malyn directly. Now, can I be doing something to relieve your worship?” Arabis said.
“Not until you have helped every last one of my people,”
Yehimelek answered proudly, through another fit of coughing. “Shall it be said that the leader accepted relief while others were in need? Never!”
So Arabis returned to the other sufferers, and had soon exhausted her entire stock of medicine on them.
She had noticed, as she went from one sick-bed to another, that there was pitifully little food in the caves: a small quantity of dried fish, a few gulls eggs, nothing more; plainly, since most of the able-bodied men had fallen ill, stocks had run low; it seemed to her that part of the people's trouble might come simply from starvation and a lack of greenstuff. Struck by an idea she returned to Yehimelek.
“Sir,” she said, “do any of your tunnels lead down to the foot of the cliff?”
“Assuredly. How else would my people catch the fish needed to support us and our camels?”
“Could somebody show me the way down?”
“Strato! Tennes!” he called, and when two of the helpers came in he gave them orders to take Arabis where she wanted to go. They led her down hundreds of steps, the noise of the sea outside becoming louder as they went, and finally emerged, through an entrance cunningly masked with seaweed, on to an outcrop of rock at the base of the cliff. There was no beach, and little danger of being seen; the tide, as it fell, merely exposed more and more dangerous rocks; all fishing craft kept well away. The ebbing tide had also left behind great swags and piles of seaweed; this Arabis proceeded to collect, and the two men helped her. They rinsed it in a trickle of fresh water which ran down the cliff, and took it to an empty cave where Arabis kindled
a driftwood fire and made signs that she wanted a large pot A gold one was fetched, large enough to contain a whole sheep. Half filling this with fresh water she boiled up the seaweed into nourishing broth which, when thick and succulent, was distributed in gold cups, gold mugs, and gold pipkins to the entire community. Arabis took a bowlful to Yehimelek who accepted it gratefully when he had made certain that everyone else had some too.
“Ah,” the Hereditary Foreman sighed when he had drunk his soup. “I was angry when I discovered that Shishak and Ahiram had gone to seek help without asking my permission (they knew I would never have given it). But I believe they made a wise choice. With the help of this excellent broth, and your good medicines, lady, my people may be saved yet.”