"No indeed," she continued, rising from the table and taking hold of Taran's shoulders. "Off you ducklings must go and never give a second thought to the Crochan. Tell dear little Dallben and Prince Gwydion we're terribly sorry, and if there's anything else we can possibly do…But not that. Oh, my no."
Taran started to protest, but Orddu cut him short and guided him rapidly to the door, while the other enchantresses hustled the companions after him.
"You may sleep in the shed tonight, my chickens," said Orddu. "Then, first thing in the morning, away with you to little Dallben. And you shall decide whether you'd rather go on your legs. Or," she added, this time without a smile, "on a pair of your own wings."
"Or," muttered Orgoch, "hopping all the way."
Chapter 13
The Plan
THE DOOR SLAMMED SHUT behind them and once again the companions found themselves outside the cottage.
"Well, I like that!" Eilonwy cried indignantly. "After all their talk of dear little Dallben and sweet little Dallben, they've turned us out!"
"Better turned out than into, if you take my meaning," said the bard. "A Fflam is always kind to animals, but somehow I can't bring myself to feel I should like to actually become one!"
"No, oh, no!" Gurgi cried fervently. "Gurgi, too, wants to stay as he is― bold and clever!"
Taran turned back to the cottage and began pounding on the door. "They must listen to us!" he declared. "They didn't even take time to think it over." But the door did not open, and though he ran to the window and rapped long and loud, the enchantresses did not show themselves again.
"I'm afraid that's your answer," said Fflewddur. "They've said all they intend to say― and perhaps it's for the best. And I have the uneasy feeling all that knocking and thumping might― well, you don't know but what those, ah, ladies get upset at noises."
"We can't just go away," Taran replied. "The cauldron is in their hands and, friends of Dallben or not, there's no telling what they'll do with it. I fear them and I distrust them. You heard the way the one called Orgoch was talking. Yes, I can well imagine what she'd have done to Dallben." He shook his head gravely. "This is what Gwydion warned against. Whoever has the cauldron can be a mortal threat to Prydain, if they choose to be."
"At least Ellidyr hasn't found it," Eilonwy said. "That's something to be grateful for."
"If you want the advice of one who is, after all, the oldest of us here," said the bard, "I think we should do well to hurry home and let Dallben and Gwydion attend to the matter. After all, Dallben should know how to deal with those three."
"No," Taran answered, "that I will not do. We should lose precious days in travel. The Huntsmen failed to get the cauldron back. But who knows what Arawn will attempt next? No, we dare not leave the thing here."
"For once," declared Eilonwy, "I agree. We've come this far and we shall have to go on to the end. I don't trust those enchantresses either. They wouldn't sleep if they thought we had the cauldron? I shall certainly have nightmares if I think of them with it! Not to mention Arawn! I believe no one, human or otherwise, should have that much power."
She shuddered. "Ugh! There go the ants on my back again!"
"Yes, well, it's true," Fflewddur began. "But the fact remains― they have that wretched pot and we don't. They're there and we're here, and it looks very much as though it will stay that way."
Taran was thoughtful a moment. "When Arawn wouldn't give the cauldron back to them," he said, "they went and took it. Now, since they won't let us have the cauldron, I see only one way: we shall have to take it."
"Steal it?" cried the bard. His worried expression changed rapidly and his eyes brightened. "I mean," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "steal it? Now there's a thought," he went on eagerly. "Never occurred to me. Yes, yes, that's the way," he added with excitement. "Now, that has some style and flair to it!"
"One difficulty," Eilonwy said. "We don't know where they've hidden the cauldron, and they evidently aren't going to let us in to find out."
Taran frowned. "I wish Doli were here; we'd have no trouble at all. I don't know― there must be some way. They told us we could stay the night," he continued. "That gives us from now until dawn. Come, let's not stand in front of their cottage or they'll know we're up to something. Orddu spoke of a shed."
The companions led their horses to the side of the hill where a low, dilapidated building tottered shakily on the turf. It was bare and bleak and the autumn wind whistled through the chinks in the earthen wall. The bard stamped his feet and beat his arms.
"Chilly spot to plan anything," he remarked. "Those enchantresses may have a lovely view of the Marshes, but it's a cold one."
"I wish we had some straw," Eilonwy said, "or anything to keep us warm. We'll freeze before we have a chance to think of anything at all."
"Gurgi will find straw," Gurgi suggested. He scurried out of the shed and ran toward the chicken roost.
Taran paced back and forth. "We'll have to get into the cottage as soon as they're asleep." He shook his head and fingered the brooch at his throat. "But how? Adaon's clasp has given me no idea. The dreams I had of the cauldron are without meaning to me. If I could only understand them…"
"Suppose you dozed off right now," said Fflewddur helpfully, "and slept as fast as you could? As hard as you could, I mean. You might find the answer."
"I'm not sure," replied Taran. "It doesn't quite work that way."
"It should be a lot easier than boring a hole through the hill," said the bard, "which was my next suggestion."
"We could block up their chimney and smoke them out," Eilonwy said. "Then one of us could sneak into the cottage. No," she added, "on second thought, I'm afraid anything we might put down their chimney ―well ―they could very likely put something worse up. Besides, they don't have a chimney, so we shall have to forget that idea."
Gurgi, meantime, had returned with a huge armload of straw from the chicken roost, and the companions gratefully began heaping it on the clay floor. While Gurgi went off again to fetch another load, Taran looked dubiously at the straggly pile.
"I suppose I could try to dream," he said, without much hope. "I certainly haven't a better suggestion."
"We can bed you down very nicely," said Fflewddur, "and while you're dreaming, the rest of us will be thinking, too. That way, we can all be working after our own fashion. I don't mind telling you," he added, "I wish I had Adaon's brooch. Sleep? I wouldn't need to be asked twice, for I'm weary to my bones."
Taran, still unsure, made ready to settle himself in the straw when Gurgi reappeared, wide-eyed and trembling. The creature was so upset he could only gasp and gesture. Taran sprang to his feet. "What is it?" he cried.
Gurgi beckoned them toward the chicken roost and the companions hurried after him. The agitated Gurgi led them into the wattle-and-daub building, then slunk back, terrified. He pointed to the far corner. There, in the midst of the straw, stood a cauldron.
It was squat and black, and half as tall as a man. Its ugly mouth gaped wide enough to hold a human body. The rim of the cauldron was crooked and battered, its sides dented and scarred; on its lips and on the curve of its belly lay dark brown flecks and stains which Taran knew were not rust. A long, thick handle was braced by a heavy bar; two heavy rings, like the links of a great chain, were set in either side. Though of iron, the cauldron seemed alive, grim and brooding with ancient evil. The empty mouth caught the chill breeze and a hushed muttering rose from the cauldron's depths, like the lost voices of the tormented dead.
"It is the Black Crochan," Taran whispered in fear and awe. He well understood Gurgi's terror, for the very sight of the cauldron was enough to make him feel an icy hand clutching his heart. He turned away, hardly daring to look at it any longer.