himself to be led across the circle and past the iron brazier, in which the fire had sunk low. He wondered whether it too had been lit for a signal and had now served its turn, for there seemed to be none to keep it burning. Overtaking them, the baron spoke no word, but again raised his hand to his forehead. It shook sli ghtly and his breathing, though he controlled it, was short and unsteady. The hunter guessed that the descent of the steep, slippery ledges had taxed him more than he cared to show.
They left the fire, ascended a flight of steps and stopped before the door of a stone building, its handle a pendent iron ring made like two bears grappling each with the other. Kelderek had never before seen workmanship of this kind, and watched in wonder as the handle was turned and the weight of the door swung inward without sagging or scraping against the floor within.
Crossing the threshold, they were met by a girl dressed like those who had tended the cressets on the terrace. She was carrying three or four lighted lamps on a wooden tray which she offered to each of them in turn. He took a lamp, but still saw little of what was round him, being too fearful to pause or stare about. From somewhere not far away came a smell of cooking and he realized once again that he was hungry.
They entered a firelit, stone-floored room, furnished like a kitchen with benches and a long, rough table. The hearth, set in the wall, had a cowled chimney above and an ash-pit below, and h ere a second girl was tending th ree or four cooking-pots. The two exchanged a few words in low voices and began to busy themselves about the hearth and table, from time to time glancing sideways at the Baron with a kind of shrinking fascination.
Since they had left the paved circle the hunter had been overcome by the knowledge that he had committed sacrilege. Clearly, the stone on which he had sat was sacred. Had he not, indeed, been told that it had fallen from the sky? And the woman - the homely woman with the ladle - she could be only —
As she approached him in the firelight he turned, trembling, and fell upon his knees.
‘Saiyett - I -I was not to know -‘
‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said. ‘Lie down here, on the table: I want to look at your shoulder. Melathys, bring some warm water; and Baron, will you please hold one of the lamps close?’
As they obeyed her, the Tuginda unlaced the hunter’s jerkin and began to wash the clotted blood from the gash in his shoulder. She worked carefully and deliberately, cleaned the wound, dressed it with a stinging, bitter-scented ointment and finally bound his shoulder with a clean cloth. From behind the lamp the Baron’s disfigured face looked down at him with an expression which made him prefer to keep his eyes shut.
‘Now we will eat - and drink too,’ said the Tuginda at last, helping him to his feet, ‘and you girls may go. Yes, yes,’ she added impati ently , to one who was lifting the lid from the stew-pot and lingering by the fire, ‘I can ladle stew into bowls, believe it or not.’
The girls scurried out and the Tuginda, picking up her ladle, stirred the various pots and filled four bowls from them. Kelderek ate apart, standing up, and she did nothing to dissuade him, herself sitting on a bench by the hearth and eating slowly and little , as though to make sure that she would finish no sooner and no later than the rest. The bowls were woode n, but the cups into which Melath ys poured wine were of thin bronze, six-sided and flat-based, so that, unlike drinking-horns, they stood unsupported without spilling. The cold metal felt strange to the hunter’s lips.
W hen the two men had finished, Melath ys brought water for their hands, took away the bowls and. cups and made up the fire. The Baron, with his back against the table, sat facing the Tuginda, while the hunter remained standing in the shadows beyond.
‘I sent for you, Baron,’ began the Tuginda. ‘As you know, I asked you to come
They left the fire, ascended a flight of steps and stopped before the door of a stone building, its handle a pendent iron ring made like two bears grappling each with the other. Kelderek had never before seen workmanship of this kind, and watched in wonder as the handle was turned and the weight of the door swung inward without sagging or scraping against the floor within.
Crossing the threshold, they were met by a girl dressed like those who had tended the cressets on the terrace. She was carrying three or four lighted lamps on a wooden tray which she offered to each of them in turn. He took a lamp, but still saw little of what was round him, being too fearful to pause or stare about. From somewhere not far away came a smell of cooking and he realized once again that he was hungry.
They entered a firelit, stone-floored room, furnished like a kitchen with benches and a long, rough table. The hearth, set in the wall, had a cowled chimney above and an ash-pit below, and h ere a second girl was tending th ree or four cooking-pots. The two exchanged a few words in low voices and began to busy themselves about the hearth and table, from time to time glancing sideways at the Baron with a kind of shrinking fascination.
Since they had left the paved circle the hunter had been overcome by the knowledge that he had committed sacrilege. Clearly, the stone on which he had sat was sacred. Had he not, indeed, been told that it had fallen from the sky? And the woman - the homely woman with the ladle - she could be only —
As she approached him in the firelight he turned, trembling, and fell upon his knees.
‘Saiyett - I -I was not to know -‘
‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said. ‘Lie down here, on the table: I want to look at your shoulder. Melathys, bring some warm water; and Baron, will you please hold one of the lamps close?’
As they obeyed her, the Tuginda unlaced the hunter’s jerkin and began to wash the clotted blood from the gash in his shoulder. She worked carefully and deliberately, cleaned the wound, dressed it with a stinging, bitter-scented ointment and finally bound his shoulder with a clean cloth. From behind the lamp the Baron’s disfigured face looked down at him with an expression which made him prefer to keep his eyes shut.
‘Now we will eat - and drink too,’ said the Tuginda at last, helping him to his feet, ‘and you girls may go. Yes, yes,’ she added impati ently , to one who was lifting the lid from the stew-pot and lingering by the fire, ‘I can ladle stew into bowls, believe it or not.’
The girls scurried out and the Tuginda, picking up her ladle, stirred the various pots and filled four bowls from them. Kelderek ate apart, standing up, and she did nothing to dissuade him, herself sitting on a bench by the hearth and eating slowly and little , as though to make sure that she would finish no sooner and no later than the rest. The bowls were woode n, but the cups into which Melath ys poured wine were of thin bronze, six-sided and flat-based, so that, unlike drinking-horns, they stood unsupported without spilling. The cold metal felt strange to the hunter’s lips.
W hen the two men had finished, Melath ys brought water for their hands, took away the bowls and. cups and made up the fire. The Baron, with his back against the table, sat facing the Tuginda, while the hunter remained standing in the shadows beyond.
‘I sent for you, Baron,’ began the Tuginda. ‘As you know, I asked you to come
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