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I now appreciated Arthur's discomfort, and why he had called upon me as he did. I stared at the
proffered scroll and the strange markings on it. I opened my mouth to speak, thought better of it, and
studied the scroll once more.
There were several long columns of words scratched out in a language I did not know: neither Latin nor
Greek, which I can, if pressed to it, make out. And there was a picture  not one only, but several: one
large drawing flanked by three smaller ones. The drawings were almost as inscrutable as the words, for
they showed a strange hive-shaped object resting on a short stack of thin disks and floating in a blue
firmament  water perhaps. But it was not a boat, for there was an entrance, or at least a hole in the
side which would let the water in. The smaller pictures showed the same object, or similar objects, from
different views. The thing was without markings of any kind, so I could get no hint of its function.
I knew Gwenhwyvar was awaiting my appraisal. 'This is indeed remarkable! I perceive you have
treasured it long in your clan.'
'The vellum scroll before you has been given hand to hand from the first days to this,' Gwenhwyvar
explained. 'It is said that Brigid, queen of the Tuatha DeDannan, brought it toEire.'
'That I can well believe,' I told her. 'And can you yet read the words written here?' I indicated the
delicate tracery of symbols.
Gwenhwyvar's face fell slightly. 'Alas, I cannot. That art is long vanished from our kin  if indeed any
ever possessed it,' she replied. 'It was my hope that you, Wise Emrys, might read them out for me.'
'I wish I could,' I told her. 'But I am unused to studying script, and would no doubt make a poor
assessment.' Then with sudden inspiration I said: 'Still, it may be that the priest Ciaran knows this script
and can tell us what it means. If you agree, we might take it to him tomorrow.'
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'Your counsel is good,' replied Gwenhwyvar, 'but let Ciaran be summoned here. It is not right that our
treasure should be carried through the realm as if it were a thing of little value.' Fergus agreed with his
daughter, and dispatched a messenger at dawn to bring the priest to Muirbolc to view the scroll.
'What do you think it pictures, Myrddin?' wondered Arthur the next morning while we waited for the
monk to arrive. We were sitting on the rocks above the shore. The day was bright and the sea calm as it
washed back and forth over the rocky shore below.
'It would appear to be a dwelling of some kind,' I replied. 'More than that I cannot say.'
He fell silent, listening to the seabirds and feeling the sun's warm rays on his face. 'A man could grow to
love it here,' he murmured after a while.
Cai and Bedwyr, who were beginning to look longingly towards home, approached then. They settled
themselves on either side of us. 'We thought you were readying die ship,' Bedwyr said. 'We did not want
you to forget us here.'
'Arthur was just saying he did not wish to leave at all,' I told them.
'Not return toBritain!' Cai exclaimed. 'Artos, have a care. If we must endure any more of their piping we
will certainly go mad!'
'Peace, brother,' Arthur soothed. 'Myrddin is jesting. We leave tomorrow as planned. Even now the ship
is being readied.' He opened his eyes and pointed down the beach a short distance to where our boat
was drawn up. Several of Fergus' men, and our own pilot, were shaking out the sails.
'We came to tell you that Ciaran has arrived,' Bedwyr informed us. 'Fergus is waiting for you and
Myrddin to join them.'
Arthur jumped to his feet. 'Then let us attend him. I am determined to solve at least one riddle before I
leave this place.'
Ciaran greeted us happily. 'You will have good weather for tomorrow's sailing,' he told us. 'I will come
to see you away.
 Oh, do not talk of leaving,' Fergus cried. 'It is my heart you are taking from me when you go.'
'Your place is assured with me,' Arthur told him. 'Come visit us when you will."
Gwenhwyvar approached with the scroll and proceeded to unwrap it. The priest was eager to see it,
and pronounced it a prize beyond price. 'I have seen such before,' he said, bending his head over the
close-worked script. 'When I was pupil to the sainted Thomas of Narbonne, I attended him on a journey
toConstantinople. The priests of that great city preserve the world's wisdom on scrolls of this kind. It is
said that the oldest come from Great Alexandria andCarthage.'
Fergus smiled, well pleased with this assessment. 'Can you tell out the marks?' he asked.
Ciaran bent his head still lower, pulled on his lip, and then said, 'No, I cannot. It is not Greek or Latin, or
any other tongue I know. But,' he continued, brightening, 'that is of little consequence, for I know well the
object represented here.
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 Then tell us!' urged Arthur.
'It is called amartyrion ,' explained Ciaran. 'There are many kinds, and this is  ' Seeing our confusion,
he halted.
'If you please,' I said, 'our learning in these matters is not as great as yours, good monk. Is thismartyrion
a building to the memory of the illustrious dead?'
'A House of Honour,' Gwenhwyvar affirmed. 'That is what the old ones called it.'
'Yes! Of course!' Ciaran agreed eagerly. 'Forgive my presumption. What you are seeing here  ' he
lightly traced the painted picture with a fingertip  'is indeed a House of Honour  of the kind called
rotonda , for its round shape. And, you see, it is tabled, for it is raised on manymensi .' He traced the
round stone tables which formed both the foundation and steps leading to the entrance.
'These are known inRome?' wondered Arthur. Cai and Bedwyr still appeared perplexed. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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