Lleu bent, impulsively, to drop a quick kiss on my forehead before he took the lantern and started up the tunnel. I watched him go, the light with him growing more distant. When he turned the corner there was only a faint bloom of yellow warmth against the far wall: and after that nothing but blackness, and I alone.
I can hardly bear to tell of this.
I thought I must go mad waiting there for very long. But soon, soon, four men from the upper shafts came down with lanterns and shovels. Tegfan—he was senseless through all our cautious work to free him, and I started to splint his legs as best I could before we carried him out. But the roof began to tremble again. We abandoned the tools, for it took all four men from the upper shafts to carry Tegfan. The tunnel shuddered and rattled as we half ran, half crawled upward, dodging showers of clay and dust. It was agony to put weight on the foot that had been trapped; I dragged myself behind the others, frantic lest I should cause their destruction as well.
The ground and ceiling beyond the cut doorway to the main tunnel were steady, and a little crowd stood waiting for us there. They had not dared to venture beyond the stone lintels and oak beams that supported the entrance, and sent up a sober cheer of thanks as we burst gasping into their midst. I stood just beyond the tremorous shaft, shaking so that I could not hold kuld upthe horn of ale someone offered me. One said, “My lord, can you see to Tegfan’s legs?” Another asked, “Will we be able to search for the others that were with you?”
For answer—it was an answer—came a low rumble and clatter from deep in the tunnel, and the lower shaft collapsed. It sealed itself from the roots outward, as though some starved inner core hungered to consume the entire hillside. I have killed another friend, I thought, buried alive six men; and so imagined the abyss closing around me, and plunged into the devouring darkness.
Light mist on my face, then, and wind. I opened my eyes to a gray sky that seemed blindingly bright. I lay on the flat ground just beyond the quarry, with Caius and Cadarn kneeling by me. “Lleu,” I gasped, and sat up too fast. The red stone tilted about me. “Where is Lleu?”
“Home,” Caius said. “Unhurt, not so much as a scratch. Gently, lad.” He helped me to sit up. “Gods, what a day for you. Can you walk?”
I hesitated to answer. Cadarn said, frowning, “Let me see your foot.”
It was already so swollen that I could not get my boot off. “We’re shutting down for the day,” Cadarn said. “The king has sent Caius to see you home. You can borrow one of the ponies if you can’t walk.”
I could not even take the reins, for my wrist was also badly bruised. When we reached the villa Caius helped me to my room and sent for Aquila; they had to cut away my boot before Aquila could bind my ankle. Lleu brought me supper, and with it the message that Artos wanted to speak to me when I had finished. I could not eat. I said that I would go at once to Artos, and Lleu soberly offered me his shoulder for support. Outside his father’s study he said to me, with apology and pity in his voice, “I am to be present at this interview.”
Artos was pacing, waiting for us. “Get Medraut a chair,” he said curtly for greeting. Now he stood still, to lean against his desk and face me. “Do you know what angers me most in this miserable day’s work?” he demanded.
I shook my head. I could not look at him. “Tell me.”
“That Lleu was there when it happened. That you knew the chance you took with the explosives: you even thought to get Cadarn’s permission before you used them. That you knew the shaft might not hold up, and yet you had Lleu down there with you not so much as an hour after you had broken through the wall. Trust! My God, Medraut, what would you have me think of you? What kind of an idiot would take his sovereign’s heir down a forced mining tunnel before the earth even had a chance to settle?”
“He is not hurt,” I whispered.
“And for that you’d do well to offer up a fervent prayer of thanks,” Artos snapped. “And meantime pray as well for those men under your command, who also trusted you, Iaen and Gwyn, Cynedyr, Cado—”
“I know their names!”
Artos hit me, hard, in cold fury.
“Father!” Lleu cried out softly.
Artos turned on him. “Not a word from you, my Bright One. You’ve been little wiser than your brother, today.” He faced me again, and spoke more gently. “Only I expect more of you, Medraut.”
“I spoke without thinking,” I said in a low voice. “But Cado k01Cou, Medrawas my friend. Forgive me, sir.”
“And forgive me also, Medraut.” Artos sighed. He shook his head and leaned against the desk again, folding his arms and regarding me with sorrow and anger. “I have never lost so many lives at once unless it was in a battle.”
I shook with pent despair. “An accident—I could not stop it happening—”
“I know.” He spoke evenly now, in control of his anger. “But the fact remains that Lleu was with you when it happened.” Lleu sighed this time, but held silent. Artos continued, “Your transgression is in a lack of responsibility, Medraut, and as punishment I can only see fit to deny you that responsibility in the future. You are stripped of your foremanship. You may not return to work in the copper mines until Tegfan’s legs are healed. You will remain within the villa for the rest of the week, and for a month after that you will not leave the grounds of the estate unescorted.”
I bowed my head. Behind me, I heard Lleu say, “And I?”
Artos answered gently, “I think such an experience has been punishment enough for you.”
I looked up sharply at my father, and challenged: “Is Lleu not old enough to choose where he will or will not go? Is he never to be given any responsibility, not even for himself? Can you ensure that he never kills anyone by accident, any more than you can protect him from being struck by lightning?” I stopped for breath, my heart racing. Words came to me out of the dark, out of memory: “Am I my brother’s keeper?”