“Back at his starting point, he looked again at the rock across from him, from the base of which the water was still hissing and roaring with no lessening of its fury. That rock offered a solid landing place, for he could see the handspan’s depth of soil and grass that lined its broken top. But its surface was above the level on which he stood, which meant he would have to jump up and across, and if he fell short, he would fall directly into the roaring deathtrap beneath him and be smashed to a bloody froth.
“He made the jump safely and for the next month and more he watched the gradual destruction of what had been a safe and pleasant grazing spot. And he discovered many things about what was happening. The ground on the right of the spine that had been bog and then became mud simply sank into the earth and disappeared, slowly and steadily, washed and sucked and sifted away by the waters until that side of the spine lay as bare and exposed as the left side.
“But then my ancestor began to grow aware that something other was occurring here. This place is bowl-shaped, it transpired, and he watched and paid close attention as the waters rose and rose until the bowl was full.”
“So how long did that take?” It was the first time I had spoken since Elmo arrived, and he looked up at me.
“When my grandsire was the age his grandsire Elmo had been at the start of it all. Our family has paid great attention to the happenings in the place now for nigh on a hundred years, and few things happen here that we are unaware of.
“No one can tell why the waters ceased to rise. They simply stopped one day and rose no farther. A balance of some kind was reached … a leveling. The waters are still sweet and fresh, so the torrent is still flowing strongly enough to keep the currents stirring and to avert stagnation, and there is sufficient drainage, obviously, to maintain the level of the waters without loss.”
“So how are we to cross it? I presume we are to cross it? I see no boats, but you must have some close by.”
“None large enough for horses.” The man smiled at me and his entire face was transformed. “We will walk.” His smile widened at the look on my face. “The spine, Lord Clothar. The spine I’ve been talking about is still there, below the surface. We will follow it. That is why I am here—to guide you. You will have to dismount, though, and lead your horses, for the way is narrow in some places. Follow the man ahead of you precisely and feel your way with caution, making sure each foot is firmly set before placing your weight on it. The water on either side of the spine is deep, but we’ll be close enough together that, if one of you does fall in, we’ll be able to pull you out again. But I am sure I do not have to explain the folly of trying at any time to make your way across the spine without my guidance.” He avoided looking at any of us as he said that, but there was no mistaking the tenor of the warning. “Now, Lord Clothar, if you will follow me with your friend Ursus behind you, the others have crossed before and know the procedure.”
Having said that, he turned away and waited to hear me splashing into the water at his back before he moved off into the waters ahead of us. I glanced once at Ursus, and followed my guide, preparing to concentrate completely on where he was leading me and to trust utterly in his own knowledge of the pathway across the open waters.
As I walked close behind my guide, fighting the urge to throw my arms around him and hang on from time to time, I found myself thinking about where we were and what was happening, and my thoughts were whirling as I made my cautious way across the mere. There was water all around us, but we were already more than halfway across and I could see where the trees turned green again up ahead of us, marking the start of dry land again. I stopped and turned to look back the way we had come, and in front of me Elmo stopped moving immediately.
“What is it?” he asked me.
“Nothing, I’m merely looking back. There’s absolutely no sign of the route we’ve followed to get here, and no indication of how we’ll progress from here to reach the end of the crossing.”
I turned back to find him looking at me and smiling slightly. “Does that surprise you, Lord Clothar? Or do the people in the north leave marks in the water when they pass through it?”
I took the jibe in the spirit in which I thought it was intended and smiled, letting the thought of being insulted glide away from me. “No. Forgive me, Elmo, I was but thinking aloud, about our circumstances. My—the Queen of Benwick lies ahead of us, under your care, and this may be the only spot within her own lands where she is safe. She would not be safe in her own house today, not with her firstborn son behaving like a mad dog as he is. But here she is beyond reach of all who might seek to harm her. And you alone hold the key to her safety, because of your knowledge of this pathway through the waters.”
“Well, not alone. My brother Theo knows the way across as well as I do. But then Theo is seldom here, whereas I live close by.” He looked over my shoulder to the men at my back. “We should keep moving. Our friends back there are at our mercy when we stop thus, for they cannot simply go around us and continue on their own.” He began walking again, speaking back over his shoulder. “You were talking about the Queen’s safety but you sounded as though you harbor some doubt. In what regard?”
“Accessibility. It’s obvious no one can come in here without knowing the way, but is that surmountable? Is there any other way a determined man—or army, for that matter—might penetrate the refuge where you have the Queen?”
Elmo shook his head. “Not without growing wings like a bird, to let him fly …” He paused for a few moments and thought about what he had just said, then held up a hand and wiggled it back and forth. “Well, that may not be completely true. If a man is determined enough, he can usually find a way to get what he wants. It is conceivable, I suppose, that die-hard assault could reach us in the valley by coming over the top of the hills, but I really believe it would hardly be possible. These hills are high and rugged, and when God made them, He built them upright out of huge, flat, sometimes knife-edge-thin slabs of stone, then tilted them all sideways and fixed them in place just before they fell over of their own weight. Our little valley lies at the center of that piece of His creation, and the hills all around it slant steeply away from it in all directions, so that anyone approaching from the outside has to struggle constantly to climb unscalable, sharp-edged cliffs that are all tilted toward him and overhang each other in endless ridges, each with its own dangers and threats. I have been there in those hills, Lord Clothar, and it is not a pleasant place to be. I went there of my own free will, as an act of penance, and it is no exaggeration to say that I was truly penitent when I emerged, and that there were times when I genuinely thought I would never emerge at all, but would die in there, in some hidden spot unknown to man.”
I was staring at the back of his head, marveling at his fluent ease with words, but his reference to penance took me by surprise.
“Why would you do an act of penance?”
He did not even bother to turn around. “Because I am a sinner. Sinners are required to do penance.”
“You sound like a bishop.”
“Aye, well I’m not, but I am a priest, and my bishop’s name is Erigon. He is my teacher.”