The professor continued to rotate and rise, the torch acting like the beam from a small rotund lighthouse. In his left hand he held some sort of circular object. He casually stepped into the trench and walked to the edge from where Sam and Pete pulled him out. He proffered the object to Sam, who turned it over in her hands. Even Pete could see that it was some form of crown.
"Y Goron Cymru" announced the professor. Even Pete's limited welsh let him translate this to Sam. "He thinks its the Welsh Crown".
"The chattels of office mentioned in the will, Glyndwr's crown, " Sam concurred before noticing that ap Tomas was shaking. "Christ he's going to shock". The professor was pale, his lips a purple blue. The managed to walk him to the postern gate and struggled to get him over it. The grass was greasy with rain and the professor seemed unable to carry his own weight. They virtually dragged him back to the hotel, ran a bath of warm water in which they placed him fully clothed. He regained his colour after a mug of warm tea and some chocolate brought up by the landlady and insisted vehemently that he did not need to see a doctor.
Sam offered Pete the use of her shower. He suggested they both use it. Preferably at the same time.
Thursday, 25 August 2011
15.Water ways
Gwern had wanted to test the the system before the ceremony but they had simply run out of time. It was a dark moonless night and torch lit processions were approaching Harlech from several directions. Soon they all would congregate on the hillocks and outcrops surrounding the rock.
The carpenter had eventually made the cylinder out of a whole tree trunk that seemed to be watertight at his third attempt. The trunk had been cut vertically in half, each half then hollowed out rather like a canoe. The two halves were then 'glued' back together with twine and sealed with a resin to create a buoyant tube. Two sets of perpendicular spigots were fitted about a foot from the end of the twelve foot sealed pipe.
The new fixed wooden bridge was deceptive in it's construction. Below the walk way, now wide enough for to take four men abreast, was a sealed wooden canal into which the rock's incoming waters had been diverted. By a series of sluice gates water levels in a subterranean cavern could be controlled. Gwern's principle work had been sinking a circular whole down the the base of the cavern into which the cylinder would be placed. The complicated bit was creating the spiral. In theory as the water levels in the main cavern rose so would the cylinder and anything standing on top of it.
This is where his special skills and rock, water and the spirit were vital. The spirit was a combination of oils and minerals which when in contact with water caused it to freeze. When water freezes it expands, when it expands in a crevice of rock it can literally cleave rock. Combined with the bronze tools available Gwern had produced a perfectly round shaft with a spiral gouged in for the spigots. Only that morning they had lowered the cylinder, now well greased, into the hole it had rotated as it went down.
It was approaching sunrise and the chanting from the rock and surrounding hillsides was getting louder. Druid Brenin had been standing on the end of the cylinder his head about three foot below the surface for the last three hours. A torus of firewood had place around Gwern's shaft and now the ceremony was reaching its crescendo. As eastern sky started to lighten a firebrand had been used to ignite the wood. Gwern had to get timing right this was a do or die situation.
Just as the top of the sun breached hills to the Northeast, Gwern opened the upper sluice to its full extent and indicated that lower one was to be shut tight. Now, unbeknownst the the surrounding masses, water was rushing through the bridge then underground through culverts into the large cavern causing the level to rise. As the water rose the cylinder and theoretically the chief would rise with it rotating slowly. From his hiding spot could not see if it was working and he seemed to already let a lot of water in. Then in the midst of the fire he caught sight of the druids elaborate raven headrest rotating sedately and getting higher all the time. A hush went through the crowd as the druids body emerged and even Gwern who new how the illusion worked was still amazed to the him rising and turning in the flames. As planned the spigots reached there upper groove and stopped and for a minute the druid to hover above the flames. Then as planned the water breached the top of the shaft and extinguished the flames and the druid walked to the alter for the ritual sacrifice. Gwern indicate for the lower sluice to be opened and the cylinder dissappeared below the level of charred damp wood.
When the ceremonies were over and the public gone away awestruck, Gwern was offered much congratulations and rather too much mead.
The carpenter had eventually made the cylinder out of a whole tree trunk that seemed to be watertight at his third attempt. The trunk had been cut vertically in half, each half then hollowed out rather like a canoe. The two halves were then 'glued' back together with twine and sealed with a resin to create a buoyant tube. Two sets of perpendicular spigots were fitted about a foot from the end of the twelve foot sealed pipe.
The new fixed wooden bridge was deceptive in it's construction. Below the walk way, now wide enough for to take four men abreast, was a sealed wooden canal into which the rock's incoming waters had been diverted. By a series of sluice gates water levels in a subterranean cavern could be controlled. Gwern's principle work had been sinking a circular whole down the the base of the cavern into which the cylinder would be placed. The complicated bit was creating the spiral. In theory as the water levels in the main cavern rose so would the cylinder and anything standing on top of it.
This is where his special skills and rock, water and the spirit were vital. The spirit was a combination of oils and minerals which when in contact with water caused it to freeze. When water freezes it expands, when it expands in a crevice of rock it can literally cleave rock. Combined with the bronze tools available Gwern had produced a perfectly round shaft with a spiral gouged in for the spigots. Only that morning they had lowered the cylinder, now well greased, into the hole it had rotated as it went down.
It was approaching sunrise and the chanting from the rock and surrounding hillsides was getting louder. Druid Brenin had been standing on the end of the cylinder his head about three foot below the surface for the last three hours. A torus of firewood had place around Gwern's shaft and now the ceremony was reaching its crescendo. As eastern sky started to lighten a firebrand had been used to ignite the wood. Gwern had to get timing right this was a do or die situation.
Just as the top of the sun breached hills to the Northeast, Gwern opened the upper sluice to its full extent and indicated that lower one was to be shut tight. Now, unbeknownst the the surrounding masses, water was rushing through the bridge then underground through culverts into the large cavern causing the level to rise. As the water rose the cylinder and theoretically the chief would rise with it rotating slowly. From his hiding spot could not see if it was working and he seemed to already let a lot of water in. Then in the midst of the fire he caught sight of the druids elaborate raven headrest rotating sedately and getting higher all the time. A hush went through the crowd as the druids body emerged and even Gwern who new how the illusion worked was still amazed to the him rising and turning in the flames. As planned the spigots reached there upper groove and stopped and for a minute the druid to hover above the flames. Then as planned the water breached the top of the shaft and extinguished the flames and the druid walked to the alter for the ritual sacrifice. Gwern indicate for the lower sluice to be opened and the cylinder dissappeared below the level of charred damp wood.
When the ceremonies were over and the public gone away awestruck, Gwern was offered much congratulations and rather too much mead.
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
14. In a rut
The professor was literally wedged in the hole in the trench. What was worse was that he was acting like a plug. The water level in the trench was getting higher and higher and only his head with an attached torch remained above. Pete laid down and tried to reach him without actually setting foot into the trench. "Hold my legs" he shouted to Sam, who immediately sat her weight on his calves and grabbed the back of his jacket. He still could not reach the professor and now and then his his face would dip under the muddy water.
The water level continued to rise and the professor was starting to panic, his screams were only being curtailed by the ingress of water into his mouth. Pete was doing the arm movements of breaststroke just to keep his head above the water. Sam was pointlessly shouting instructions to both of them.
A sudden subterranean thud was followed by the sucking sound of water as the professor noticeably dropped vertically down. Sam pulled Pete back from what was now a muddy crater. The Professor had disappeared into the watery abyss, his shouts now silenced.
Pete lay panting on the wet grass as Sam circled the trench trying to see how far the professor had gone and shouting his name in what seemed like a vain hope of a reply. Again a deep rumbling was heard but it was now continuous. Then like some sort of time lapse jack in the box, first the professors head and shoulders appeared emerging from the hole. Rotating as he rose higher, ap Tomas had a strange benign grin on his face extenuating the child's toy metaphor.
The water level continued to rise and the professor was starting to panic, his screams were only being curtailed by the ingress of water into his mouth. Pete was doing the arm movements of breaststroke just to keep his head above the water. Sam was pointlessly shouting instructions to both of them.
A sudden subterranean thud was followed by the sucking sound of water as the professor noticeably dropped vertically down. Sam pulled Pete back from what was now a muddy crater. The Professor had disappeared into the watery abyss, his shouts now silenced.
Pete lay panting on the wet grass as Sam circled the trench trying to see how far the professor had gone and shouting his name in what seemed like a vain hope of a reply. Again a deep rumbling was heard but it was now continuous. Then like some sort of time lapse jack in the box, first the professors head and shoulders appeared emerging from the hole. Rotating as he rose higher, ap Tomas had a strange benign grin on his face extenuating the child's toy metaphor.
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
13. Gwern's Gesture
Gwern had seen the arch druid, Derwydd Brenin, before but only from a distance. He seemed, somehow, more imposing in the confines of the shelter. Gwern was however offered a dry robe, which he quickly changed into. It was a course, thick fabric but after a while it seemed warm. All the while the druid spoke of their place in society. As Gwern knew Druids only used mysticism as a means to keep society stable. Their only real power was knowledge, how to dispense that knowledge and also how to keep some of it to themselves. Every so often that knowledge was used to strike awe in the general populace.
The local chieftains coexisted with druids in a symbiotic relationship, they were consultants not managers, negotiators not fighters. The druid drew Gwern out of the hut as he eulogised, a certain raven perched on his shoulder. They wandered down a slope to what he could now see was a bridge next to a large wooden tower. The rope structure spanned maybe fifty yards over a combination of stagnant pools and flowing water while the towers footings were deep in the muddy trench. He was instructed to wait by his elder as he went first across the bridge without holding the twine handrails. Gwern's crossing was a bit more nervous but he soon made it to the far bank from where they walked to the stone circle that crested the mound.
The view was staggering. Gwern could see the last few miles of his journey to the north, and then far away Mynedd Fawr. Below was the large estuary, which Gwern now realized was actually the confluence of two rivers with a spit of land between with two beaches. The view then swept anticlockwise across the great peninsular which receded to the west and stopped falling into the sea. Far to the south could be seen the distant shores of the large sweeping bay.
The stone circle had, to Gwern's mind, what was an obvious alignment relating to the equinox . All the stones looked relatively new and some had been yet to be put in place. It was apparent that some areas had been built up and others lowered to create a level surface. The druid explained the construction process, the difficulties of getting the right stones over to the rock using the tower. The site was to be used for only the more important ceremonies relating to midsummer and the harvest.
"What we want from you Gwern is not help in construction of the circle or the shaping of the stones but in the demonstration of druid power. We have some idea of what we want achieve but are at a loss to work out how".
Two hours of crawling underground, wet again, Gwern finally emerged and asked to speak to the craftsman who had designed the tower, a plan how to achieve his task in his mind already. Druid Brenin listened to his request and nodded his approval. He had four full moons to complete his own work.
The local chieftains coexisted with druids in a symbiotic relationship, they were consultants not managers, negotiators not fighters. The druid drew Gwern out of the hut as he eulogised, a certain raven perched on his shoulder. They wandered down a slope to what he could now see was a bridge next to a large wooden tower. The rope structure spanned maybe fifty yards over a combination of stagnant pools and flowing water while the towers footings were deep in the muddy trench. He was instructed to wait by his elder as he went first across the bridge without holding the twine handrails. Gwern's crossing was a bit more nervous but he soon made it to the far bank from where they walked to the stone circle that crested the mound.
The view was staggering. Gwern could see the last few miles of his journey to the north, and then far away Mynedd Fawr. Below was the large estuary, which Gwern now realized was actually the confluence of two rivers with a spit of land between with two beaches. The view then swept anticlockwise across the great peninsular which receded to the west and stopped falling into the sea. Far to the south could be seen the distant shores of the large sweeping bay.
The stone circle had, to Gwern's mind, what was an obvious alignment relating to the equinox . All the stones looked relatively new and some had been yet to be put in place. It was apparent that some areas had been built up and others lowered to create a level surface. The druid explained the construction process, the difficulties of getting the right stones over to the rock using the tower. The site was to be used for only the more important ceremonies relating to midsummer and the harvest.
"What we want from you Gwern is not help in construction of the circle or the shaping of the stones but in the demonstration of druid power. We have some idea of what we want achieve but are at a loss to work out how".
Two hours of crawling underground, wet again, Gwern finally emerged and asked to speak to the craftsman who had designed the tower, a plan how to achieve his task in his mind already. Druid Brenin listened to his request and nodded his approval. He had four full moons to complete his own work.
Monday, 22 August 2011
12. Deciphering the will
"You have to understand that welsh is a spoken language. It has an oral tradition, it wasn't really written down. Morgan's bible was virtually the first thing in print. But that's beside the point, this here is will written in a combination of Norman French and Latin, a lawyer's language. Glyndwr trained at the the inns of court in London."
Sam had called the professor as soon as she had deciphered the signature on what she now understood to be the last will and testament of the last real prince of Wales. Utilizing some academic translation software the professor had accessed on Pete's computer, they had managed to translate the majority of the text and make educated guesses as to the rest. It was more than just a will as it turned out. Glwyndwr had laid down his blueprint for the future of Wales and it's governance. The professor was quivering with excitement. This was going to give him tenure for the rest of his academic career perhaps even securing a job at the university in Aberystwyth if it was to be proved genuine.
Towards the end of the document, in the same neat script, there were some of the requisite details of the disposal of his estate around Glyndyfrdwy in the north east of the country. The documents was signed by Glyndwr and witnessed by Mortimer. A postscript had been added in much more untidy hand. It referred to his chattels of office and Harlech Castle.
Overall it had taken four hours. They decided to lock the document in the shop safe and took the translation to the pub for some refreshment and food. Having ordered they sat huddled in a corner pawing over the translation while eating baguettes.
They were unaware of the deluge outside until some kagool clad tourists started to steam gently by the hastily lit fire. Looking through the window had prompted Sam and the professor to exchange worried glances. They explained to Pete what damage could be done the dig site and all three headed into the castle though the downpour.
Two of the trenches were filling with water and they managed to get tarpaulins over them. The third equally exposed to the elements seemed drier, no pool had built up. The water was spiraling towards a small whole that had appeared at the lowest point in the trench. It was felt that it was too dangerous to explore straight away and so they covered that trench as well. They then erected three white frame tents over the trenches and called it a day. They were all soaking, physically and, to some extent, emotionally tired but agreed to meet at the pub that evening. Pete did not bother to reopen the shop, the weather had cleansed the street of potential customers. So he showered and went to sleep for a few hours.
He arrived at the pub just after nine, soaked to the skin again, to find Sam somewhat distressed.
"The professors not in his room," she hastily explained, "apparently he went out soon after we returned and hasn't been seen since." They agreed that he must of gone back to the castle. Slipping over the low wall they made way to the northern postern which offered the easiest egress into the monument. As they approached the gate they heard the sound of a generator and bright halogen lamps could be seen to light the inside of the tent of the third trench.
Sam had called the professor as soon as she had deciphered the signature on what she now understood to be the last will and testament of the last real prince of Wales. Utilizing some academic translation software the professor had accessed on Pete's computer, they had managed to translate the majority of the text and make educated guesses as to the rest. It was more than just a will as it turned out. Glwyndwr had laid down his blueprint for the future of Wales and it's governance. The professor was quivering with excitement. This was going to give him tenure for the rest of his academic career perhaps even securing a job at the university in Aberystwyth if it was to be proved genuine.
Towards the end of the document, in the same neat script, there were some of the requisite details of the disposal of his estate around Glyndyfrdwy in the north east of the country. The documents was signed by Glyndwr and witnessed by Mortimer. A postscript had been added in much more untidy hand. It referred to his chattels of office and Harlech Castle.
Overall it had taken four hours. They decided to lock the document in the shop safe and took the translation to the pub for some refreshment and food. Having ordered they sat huddled in a corner pawing over the translation while eating baguettes.
They were unaware of the deluge outside until some kagool clad tourists started to steam gently by the hastily lit fire. Looking through the window had prompted Sam and the professor to exchange worried glances. They explained to Pete what damage could be done the dig site and all three headed into the castle though the downpour.
Two of the trenches were filling with water and they managed to get tarpaulins over them. The third equally exposed to the elements seemed drier, no pool had built up. The water was spiraling towards a small whole that had appeared at the lowest point in the trench. It was felt that it was too dangerous to explore straight away and so they covered that trench as well. They then erected three white frame tents over the trenches and called it a day. They were all soaking, physically and, to some extent, emotionally tired but agreed to meet at the pub that evening. Pete did not bother to reopen the shop, the weather had cleansed the street of potential customers. So he showered and went to sleep for a few hours.
He arrived at the pub just after nine, soaked to the skin again, to find Sam somewhat distressed.
"The professors not in his room," she hastily explained, "apparently he went out soon after we returned and hasn't been seen since." They agreed that he must of gone back to the castle. Slipping over the low wall they made way to the northern postern which offered the easiest egress into the monument. As they approached the gate they heard the sound of a generator and bright halogen lamps could be seen to light the inside of the tent of the third trench.
Sunday, 21 August 2011
11. Gwern's Arrival in Harlech
Gwern stood looking up at the rock through a haze of water vapour and mini rainbows. Bulging out of the steeped, wooded hillside the stone was splattered by twenty or thirty streams which were cascading down it's sides, disappearing into culverts and reappearing at random. The almost alien rock seemed to be squeezing all the available liquid out of the surrounding hill sides. The raven, still ever present, pecked the ground near by.
Assessing the most promising route he made his way to the nearest outcrop of relatively dry rock, stripped and bundled his stuff together again and started up towards the northern aspect naked. The raven seemed to act like a guide, hopping and flapping up ahead to show him the route. After climbing waterfalls and near vertiginous brooks and streams for twenty minutes he was only half way up he paused for breath. The raven apparently impatient for him to move on cawed. He scrambled on searching for handholds on the slick rock.
Eventually the climb leveled out and he followed the main course of the stream. Ahead he could see smoke rising from a small group of homestead buildings and thought it better to get dressed. He had not managed to keep his clothes totally dry and squelched as he approached the dwellings. He held his hands out in the universal sign that he carried no weapons.
The circular buildings were constructed with a dry stone wall and a reed roof. Although several fires were burning he had yet to see any people. The raven had taken purchase on the largest of these huts and again seemed to be calling him to follow. Gwern approached the hut and the Raven hopped down and swooped into the doorway.
It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the low light levels in the smokey interior. The raven had found himself a perch on large chair that dominated the room. Gwern rotated slowly around arms still spread to ascertain there was nobody in the shelter. When he returned to the chair, to his surprize, the raven was gone and a dark robed man with a gaunt face was sitting on it.
"Welcome Gwern of Orm" he said in a deep resonating voice.
Assessing the most promising route he made his way to the nearest outcrop of relatively dry rock, stripped and bundled his stuff together again and started up towards the northern aspect naked. The raven seemed to act like a guide, hopping and flapping up ahead to show him the route. After climbing waterfalls and near vertiginous brooks and streams for twenty minutes he was only half way up he paused for breath. The raven apparently impatient for him to move on cawed. He scrambled on searching for handholds on the slick rock.
Eventually the climb leveled out and he followed the main course of the stream. Ahead he could see smoke rising from a small group of homestead buildings and thought it better to get dressed. He had not managed to keep his clothes totally dry and squelched as he approached the dwellings. He held his hands out in the universal sign that he carried no weapons.
The circular buildings were constructed with a dry stone wall and a reed roof. Although several fires were burning he had yet to see any people. The raven had taken purchase on the largest of these huts and again seemed to be calling him to follow. Gwern approached the hut and the Raven hopped down and swooped into the doorway.
It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the low light levels in the smokey interior. The raven had found himself a perch on large chair that dominated the room. Gwern rotated slowly around arms still spread to ascertain there was nobody in the shelter. When he returned to the chair, to his surprize, the raven was gone and a dark robed man with a gaunt face was sitting on it.
"Welcome Gwern of Orm" he said in a deep resonating voice.
Saturday, 20 August 2011
10. Quiz Night
The pub was packed, not a seat to be had as Pete wormed his way back to the bar to get a pint before the quiz started. Sam was working and she poured him the correct beer in the correct glass. He sat on his stool as the bell rang and a hush descended on the room.
"Question 1. Who was the second person on the moon?"...
The quiz proceeded at it's stately manner with only the occasional mass shushing the youngsters. Once the winners were declared and the prizes distributed the pub quickly thinned out.
Pete sat at the bar talking to Sam about how makeover shows such as DIY SOS had become the dearth of the antiques trade. Sam attempted to lift his spirits by saying it was cyclic and that his stock would literally rise again. They had got to know each other reasonably well in the last couple of weeks. Each realizing that the other provide an intellectual stimulation somewhat absent elsewhere in Harlech.
"I've also got this box that I can't get into clogging up the shop". Pete explained it's origins. Sam was intrigued and offered to pop in over the weekend and take a look.
Half ten prompt the next day she was there. They carried the chest outside for better light. Sam walked round occasional pausing to examine it more closely. She felt one of the handles and looked at some marks around it. She then pull the handle out about half an inch and rotated it. Nothing happened. She did the same with the other handle still nothing. She put them both back to the original positions. Pete was gobsmacked by all this and tried for himself, but yet again nothing happened. Sam stood upright and stared at the box.
"Right lets try both at the same time". They positioned them selves at either end of the , "Pull out on three.. one two three. Twist it... now." Pete end behaved as before but Sam now withdrew a wooden tube that was attached to her handle. Once clear of the box a complex ancient mechanism could be seen at what would been Pete's. Sam held the tube carefully and angled it to take a closer look, something slid and scraped the inside. The re-entered the shop and placed canister on the desk. An arced flap be made out and with the aid of a penknife that Sam had produced, she gently prized the edges.
The flap gave and opened by itself exposing it's mechanism and a curled manuscript sealed with cracked red wax.
"Question 1. Who was the second person on the moon?"...
The quiz proceeded at it's stately manner with only the occasional mass shushing the youngsters. Once the winners were declared and the prizes distributed the pub quickly thinned out.
Pete sat at the bar talking to Sam about how makeover shows such as DIY SOS had become the dearth of the antiques trade. Sam attempted to lift his spirits by saying it was cyclic and that his stock would literally rise again. They had got to know each other reasonably well in the last couple of weeks. Each realizing that the other provide an intellectual stimulation somewhat absent elsewhere in Harlech.
"I've also got this box that I can't get into clogging up the shop". Pete explained it's origins. Sam was intrigued and offered to pop in over the weekend and take a look.
Half ten prompt the next day she was there. They carried the chest outside for better light. Sam walked round occasional pausing to examine it more closely. She felt one of the handles and looked at some marks around it. She then pull the handle out about half an inch and rotated it. Nothing happened. She did the same with the other handle still nothing. She put them both back to the original positions. Pete was gobsmacked by all this and tried for himself, but yet again nothing happened. Sam stood upright and stared at the box.
"Right lets try both at the same time". They positioned them selves at either end of the , "Pull out on three.. one two three. Twist it... now." Pete end behaved as before but Sam now withdrew a wooden tube that was attached to her handle. Once clear of the box a complex ancient mechanism could be seen at what would been Pete's. Sam held the tube carefully and angled it to take a closer look, something slid and scraped the inside. The re-entered the shop and placed canister on the desk. An arced flap be made out and with the aid of a penknife that Sam had produced, she gently prized the edges.
The flap gave and opened by itself exposing it's mechanism and a curled manuscript sealed with cracked red wax.
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