16. Coming up roses

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

9. Digging in the Castle

Sam's first few weeks at the dig proved to be uneventful. Once the basic procedures had been established and the gravel layer had been removed by hand ( no mechanical equipment could easily be got into the castle), three trenches had been established. One towards the eastern aspect of the chapel where any alter may have once stood. The second to the west at where it seemed the only entrance to castle smithy and arsenal had seemed to be bizarrely through the chapel. The third one was beyond the route to the northern postern where it was thought the bake house once stood. There had been strict instructions from the CADW liaison officer that the integrity of the nearby well should not be compromised.

Cataloging, Sam's main priority, had initially been been just a matter of disappointing the undergraduates by explaining the proffered rare shard of pottery or bit of glass were only early twentieth century. But now that they were digging deeper especially in the second trench they were actually beginning to find things while not actually that unusual were certainly interesting. Iola, as the Professor had permitted her to call him, would intermittently call an impromptu lecture. The undergraduates would excitedly cluster around as he explained the intricacies of 14th century crossbow manufacturing. Sam drifted in and out of the discussion of how the weapon had democratized  warfare. You could be reasonably competent with a crossbow in a day. Learning to use a longbow took years of training to be able to draw bow with enough force. 


It was quite obvious the some of the undergraduates had never done a physical days work in their lives. Most evenings they would congregate in the pub and complain about blisters, their muddy clothes and the shear tedium of moving dirt with a tooth brush. The site had not been examined for over a hundred years. The Victorian archaeologist in general was not known as a preserver of such sites and as expected the remaining finds were proving  to very dull. However the next weeks they would investigating deeper into the trenches where the previous dig had not gone.


It was high summer but the next day, a Friday, a thin drizzle and mist enveloped the castle and by lunch time the prof called a long weekend. Sam took a long soak in the bath and prepared her self for that evenings shift in the pub.

8. Gwern approaches Harlech

Gwern woke up wet, more than wet. The persistent rain and wind flurries had given him a very uncomfortable night. It had been impossible to light a fire. The previous day after fording the river he had been walking up hill almost constantly. At first it had been forested, but as he climbed the trees thinned and the wind and rain increased. To his right he had occasionally  glimpsed through fast moving clouds an expanse of barren moor rolling towards the triangular peak of the great mountain, mynedd fawr. As the light started to vanish from the sky he realized that he would not make the summit of the pass and started a frantic search for shelter. A slight gap between two slate crags protected him from most of the wind but acted as a funnel for the torrent of water falling on the hillside above.

Struggling on that morning, wet and getting more and more miserable, he cursed. He cursed the rocks and the peat and the rain and the wind and the occasional wild goat. But by noon he had reached the top of the pass, the clouds and rain had seemed to suddenly blow away and Gwern was left awestruck by the vista spread out below him. Craggy hillocks burst out of the verdant oak forests which led in turn to a rich flat valley. A silver snake of water could be seen widening as it approached the sea. Gwern stripped all his clothes off and spread them rocks to dry while he ate almost the last of his supplies. Sated he dozed in the sun, dry for the first time for thirty six hours.

A fresh wind woke him about three hours later. He pulled on his stiff robes and started down to the river. He would rest again that night with only hills above him and none thankfully below. He made a fire that evening by the bank of the river and cooked a salmon that he had caught as it leaped up a waterfall. He could not finish all of the large fish and fed the remains to an inquisitive raven that had been pacing around his small camp since he had arrived.

The following morning the river had swelled with what must have been a tide and he swam to the southern bank with his clothes and few belongings in a bundle which he kept out of the water with one hand. By noon he had reached the wide mouth of the estuary the curious raven an ever present observer. The tide was now out and he carefully made his way across the sea marshes, watching for quick sand his father had warned him of. So intent on observing the ground where he walked that he was almost at the base of the great rock before he had realized it.

7. The start of the end of the rebellion

Scores of camp fires could be seen from the gatehouse. Henry's garrison were camped to the east and south-east of the castle. Owain realized that these, more than any other aspect of the siege, were what was demoralizing those in the castle. Water was not a problem, the well actually seemed to be bottomless, he had never known it run out. In the beginning food and even live sheep could be smuggled in through the myriad of tunnels and water courses that emerged in the castle cellars. But as each stream was either diverted or blocked or each tunnel entrance discovered the food became more and more scarce. The last remaining usable tunnel involved passing through a fifteen foot long sump, a dark, wet, claustrophobic experience of mud and stone below, rock above and only water in between, it had rendered the bringing in of firewood in fruitless. So whilst they had still had been fed all the food was mainly cold, and as the winter approached they had used all the wood of the castle's inner buildings as fuel to make fires. Now it was just a cold, dark and largely roofless place where both men and women clung to the gatehouse wall to avoid the opportunist stray arrow that fell every few minutes from over the castle walls.

Owain knew he had to make a decision. The choices were stark: surrender himself, for almost certain execution in the tower, and allow the rest of his friends and family some stay on their mortality or continue this slow, wet war of attrition with only certain death after prolonged suffering. He had to find another way to save himself and his country.

Since the Dean of Llanelwy had made him Prince of Wales, monarch of not just this mountainous countryside but also of large swathes of agricultural land known as the marches on the borders with England, he had realized that he was not just the leader of the rebellion but also its figurehead. Without him it would wane and sicken into smaller and smaller self-interested groups whom would not have his notion of nationhood. The French would abandon their support and Henry, his heirs and all their bastards would grind the Welsh into the mud for centuries.

A lone sentinel on the ramparts watching the first grey purple of dawn he acknowledged to himself what he would have to do. With a heavy heart he returned to the remains of the kitchens to to talk to Mortimer, once his foe now his confident perhaps even a friend.

Mortimer was slumped on a bench, a jar of the watered down mead in the crook of his elbow. Owain could not determine weather he was awake or not, he kicked the one of the table legs. Mortimer rose and drew his sword in one fluid movement. The blade horizontal, the tip nestling between Owain's clavicles, Mortimer's fury could be seen to subside with the waking recognition of his Prince. "I'll fucking kill you in my sleep one day 'Dwr". Owain managed a small smile. They sat down and spoke quietly and intently as the castle woke up around them.

Three days later Owain, standing alone on top of Rhinog Fawr, screamed into the wind. Mortimer was dead. His beloved Maggie and many other members of his family he had seen captured and then brutally beaten. Below him were what remained of his followers, battle weary, hungry and wet. The plan had gone so very wrong, Owain had lost what was dear to him. He hoped that his wealth, very discreetly hidden in the bowels of the castle would remain undiscovered. until he could recapture the Castle.

6. The Water Gate

Sold rock is not really solid. Rock becomes boulders, boulders become stones, stones become gravel, gravel becomes silt or sand. Wind sometime has an effect but usually this process is the result of water action. Rain, the sea, brooks, streams and rivers constantly wear away at the stone, slowly but surely, almost insidiously grinding it down.

Ask any miner or potholer what there worst fear is of being underground. Is it gas, or is it cave ins that scares them the most and the answer is no. What really makes these subterranean  workers and explorers scared is water.

Drowning with stone above and stone below is not a pleasant thought. The darkness can be nullified but the persistent drip, drip, drip and the often distant sound of fast lowing water sets fear into heart the most courageous mole. Mines and cave systems can change minute to minute in terms of water depth depending on what the rain has been doing in the proceeding days, weeks and even months. 

Pete had first moved to Harlech when he was eleven, moving from fairly cosmopolitan north Cheshire to rural Wales had been a bit of shock. His parents had been teachers and then suddenly they owned a cafe come restaurant in North Wales. The gardens of which were heavily terraced with a 30 foot dry stone wall which mirrored the castle itself. A stream emerged half way down the garden. It apparently,  ran under the buildings large cellar. Rumour had it there was a tunnel from these cellars right into the castle.

Harlech is built around water and on water. Streams appear then disappear throughout the village then merge below the castle and head north towards the estuary. When Pete had first heard of the siege of the castle he had always wondered if the occupiers had somehow got food and water through underground culverts, natural and man made.

Edward I started to have the castle built in 1283 and used the  french Master James of St George as its designer and master mason. Architecturally similarities to fortifications in the Holy land are evident and it is believed that some of St George's apprenticeship was served out there.

The Castle was largely complete by 1289 for a cost in today's terms of just under £4 million. In 1404 it was captured by the legendary Owain Glyndwr.  In his earlier years Glyndwr had trained as lawyer in London and fought with the the English in the Scottish borders. Later he would hold his first welsh parliament in Machynlyth where his coronation as Prince of Wales took place. The second parliament was held in Harlech. He held the castle for nearly five years until the future King, Henry V, and 1000 men lay siege to it for 8 months. Glyndwr's wife and two of his daughters and four grandchildren were captured and imprisoned in the Tower of London and later died. Glyndwr, it is safe to say was not particularly happy with the English and continued to wage a guerrilla war against them. The date and place of his demise is unknown, but his place in welsh history is fixed. He was thwarted from ever going into Harlech Casatle again.

5. Anobium Punctatum

Occasionally Pete would be asked to do house clearances. It was not really his thing, most people collected junk that had very little in the way of resale value in the current market but he would often feel obliged to go and take a look, either because he knew the people or just for the faint possibility of finding something that would be worth putting into the more expensive auctions in Chester or further beyond.

The Ffridd farm had been owned by Chris King for over thirty years, it was about three miles in land from Harlech.  He had known Chris for years; he had used the run the Army Cadets in Harlech. Now well into his seventies he had had to reluctantly sell the house and contents to pay for a nursing home.

He drove up the steep hill past the Lion, did a left at the crossroads, laboriously opened and closed two gates and took the right down the half mile track to the house.

Chris’s nephew answered the door and showed him around the house, where there was nothing of much interest to him. Pete surprised the nephew by asking to see the out buildings and he spent a while finding the padlock keys for the appropriate doors. Two of these had been converted into bunk rooms, which he had slept in as a cadet thirty years ago. In the third shed he noticed some sort of wooden coffer giving it only a cursory glance they passed into the next shed. Pete offered £40 pounds for a pine side table from the main house and after that business was concluded he suggested that he could clean out the out buildings as a favour to Chris. The nephew readily agreed and he loaded what he could of the bunks into his transit, along with the rather heavy coffer, of course, and said he would return in a couple of hours. he unloaded the spider web covered coffer in the shop and returned not once but twice to the local tip. He had not yet even looked at the coffer and it had cost him £60 plus VAT in commercial dumping charges.

The next day he opened the shop at about ten as usual. After the lights, he put the kettle on, rolled a cigarette, and smoked it outside, bloody smoking laws. He managed to move the chest back out to the cobbled square so he could begin to attempt to clean it up.

Woodworm, Anobium Punctatum is a pain. It can be treated but when left can turn even the hardest, oldest oak into saw dust. He used a soft paintbrush to remove all the external cobwebs and dust. You could not describe the wood as black, it did not seem to have any lustre just an absence of colour. At about 4’x2’x2’ it seemed solid enough, no movements of the crude panelling, no hinges, no lock. However Anobium Punctatum had made its mark, dozens if not hundreds of small holes penetrated the piece, but the bore holes seemed shallow and as dark as the surrounding wood, meaning no recent activity, as if in one of their May migrations they had decided, en masse, to leave for good along time ago.

The top or lid did not have a lip, It did not actually seem to have a join. He laid a sheet on the cobbles and tipped the chest onto its end, avoiding any pressure on the wooden handles and then onto the ‘top’, He heard something light slide inside. The ‘bottom’ when brushed clean appeared to be just like the top except for more scratch marks where it been dragged or pushed across stone floors. Again no obvious joins, or nails. Perhaps it had been heavily painted, tarred or lacquered. He scratched the surface with his thumb nail, no, this was just a sort of dark, hard wood. 

Pete brought the box back into the shop and concentrated on the crossword until the pub opened.

4.Trek to Harlech

The first day of the journey had been easy following the banks of the wide meandering river upstream as it headed towards the noonday sun.  Gwern had set up camp for himself on that first night by a small oak wood. The sides of the valley had started to narrow and gain height.

It was a warm evening so he dispensed with a fire and ate some of the meat and bread he had been given. He chewed the cured rabbit trying to remember last night and what led him to go from the splendour of Hendre Bryn to sleeping rough in the middle of nowhere.

‘You are a hard worker my son. You have learnt our craft well but you know you can never replace me as long as your older brother lives. It may not happen tomorrow or even next year but you will resent him. By our lore he has to replace me as the Smelter Druid as you well know.’ His fathers face was solemn as he spoke, as if he was hiding some truth or that his heart was broken. ‘Today, you know, I had a visit from Nant, the leader of our order who has asked me…’ hesitating he had looked away from Gwern and paused. ‘Remember I once told you about the rock dome over looking the sea facing the setting sun, not four days from here’ Gwern nodded. ‘The order want to build something, I don’t even know what, but to build something special. They wanted my help, but I am..’ he had paused again, inhaling deeply . ‘…but I am too old and too tied up with guiding these peasants in the green mines. He wanted the best, so I told them of you, how you could feel the stone, how you could smell the fissures, how you could use the spirit.’ Gwern listened as to what his likely duties were to be and the directions to the rock dome. He had felt both excited and sad to be leaving the only place he had ever known but glad to be away from his naive and ignorant brother.

The sound of the river came into focus again and he looked down at his hands, each line and wrinkle of which was tinged blue green. He looked at the spirit jar and tried to recall what he had learnt of the dome rock from his father.

“The great rock of Harlech emerges from the shallow bay facing the Lllyn” his father had intoned. Gwern tried to recall the chart of the peninsular, arm like, pointing at an island. “The stone is old, and hard, and wet from the numerous streams that encircle it and penetrate its flanks and from the action of the sea”, he had continued, “and only our kin may set foot on the great rock”.

When Gwern finally fell asleep he dreamt of a giant from the past throwing this massive rock at his land from a country far across the sea.

3. Copper mining in North Wales

Gold is all very well. It is pretty lustrous, malleable, does not tarnish and you can find it in its pure form, all those nuggets just lying around underground or more accessibly in streams and rivers. That is also the problem; because it is virtually inert it does not combine with many other elements and has little practical use other than as precious metal. Copper on the other hand is pain in the backside. It is found chiefly as an ore, a green ore, Copper Oxide that is more usually called Malachite. Once extracted into its pure form it will readily combine back again with Oxygen and a host of other elements. In the first Millennium B.C. it was discovered that if it was smelted with tin the metallic compound Bronze was produced. Bronze was a much harder material than copper and could be readily used to make really good weapons and armour.

It is estimated that mining in Wales for copper started on what is now the Great Orm near present day Llandudno  about  4000 years ago. The Orm was riddled with seams of the green ore and family groups harvested it. Digging their own mini mines with animal bones and harder rocks they extracted the ore and then sold it to the Smelter Druid as it was only he who could extract the pure copper and turn it into bars for trading or shipping.

Each family protected its own seams but often as not squabbles would beak out above and below ground as the seams meandered with scant regard of any set boundary. The Smelter Druid acted as arbitrator in these concession disputes the most awkward being an underground break through. Initially when one family accidentally, or more often than not deliberately, broke through another’s mine, then both sides would be blocked with a large rock and the cavity filled with a curse by the druid. The curse tendered to be a collection of animal guts that when the sealing motor was tampered with would exude the odour of death. This was deemed sufficient for decades and only an accidental break through generally would occur.

The smelter druid also had control of one of the largest and richest concessions where in the maze of exhausted shafts and tunnels his father before him and he stored the pure copper bars before shipping. To create the secret chambers suitable for the safe storage of the copper they became expert in disguising the entrances with hidden rock panels and cantilever slabs of stone. So confident in their ingenious methods of hiding the metal that each year they would challenge the Orm families to discover their cache, no one ever succeeded.

Fame of the Orm druid’s expertise spread through the land.              

2.Liverpool University Archaeology Dept May 2008 (two weeks earlier)

Undergraduate and graduate archaeology students were obliged to spend their summer breaks working on a dig, actually on site, and sometimes even abroad. The work was backbreaking, unpaid and usually personally unrewarding. However there was always that faint possibility to be part of, perhaps, a groundbreaking discovery. Uncovering the past, learning how people lived. Written history was about kings and queens and usually penned by the victors of the many wars. The every day aspects of simple peoples lives could only be guessed at by what they threw away or what they left behind. Archaeology was a lot about digging very carefully in dead peoples rubbish dumps. Living people seldom thought that the burying of the gold family heirlooms in the middle of a field a very good idea.

*

Sam had woken late, making a mental note that mixing Rioja and Tequila was not a good idea. She stood motionless in the shower her head leaning against the wall until the water turned cold. After drying herself she rummaged for some vaguely clean cloths and topped them off with her trusty leather jacket and left the bed-sit. Returning a minute later to grab her tobacco pouch. Eventually her bus came and she made her way into central Liverpool to the Hope Street quarter town house that housed the archaeology unit of Liverpool University History Department.

Her PhD. had been going on a long time as her tutor repeatedly reminded her. ‘An examination on the effect of Christianity on Pagan rituals in the first Five centuries AD’ was not the most original of subjects. However it left lots of room for conjecture as so little was known about the true nature of pagan worship sites other than that had been absorbed into early Christian ceremonies.

She examined the notice board, as she thought she was to late to sign up for the Roman temple excavation in Albania. She was too late for everything apart from a survey of examples of early crop rotations in the Outer Hebrides and a small-scale re-evaluation of the building techniques used in a castle in Wales that had commissioned by Edward 1 in the  early 13^th Century. She chose the latter because if she was not able to lie on a Mediterranean beach this summer she might as well be somewhere near Liverpool so she could at least work weekends in the pub on Rice Street.

*

Sam took three trains, a bus and most of the day to get to Harlech. She found her lodgings in the small pub and went out to investigate the dig site before it got dark. She had not had much dealings with Professor ap Tomas since her second year as an undergraduate when he had taught a course on the persecution of the Welsh. He was part of the small group of welsh academics who taught in the university who spoke welsh to each other. Liverpool had once had an area that had been called Little Wales in the 19^th century complete with welsh language school and chapel. Obsessed with times passed when proud welsh princes ruled the mountains he was apparently searching for real proof of nationhood.

*

Approaching Harlech earlier she had seen the quite magnificent castle perched on a great rock, the Dome of Harlech, from below. Now approaching from the landward side she passed through the ticket office and climbed the wooden steps to the outer gate and into the darkness of the keep. Emerging into the central square interior she could see the bespectacled figure of the professor standing looking at the grid of strings that had been used to mark out the site of the old chapel now nothing moor than 2 or 3 levels of mortised natural grey stone. As she approached him she could here him making what almost sounded like an incantation. She coughed to get his attention.

The dig team had spent the last week of term in Liverpool getting to know each other and prepare for eight weeks they would be spending in Harlech. The professor had proved to be approachable and seemed to have a good grasp of the practicalities of organising the dig.

They said their hellos. As the most senior graduate she would be responsible for cataloguing the site. Not they expected to make any finds. The main objective was to examine the building methods used especially in the chapel, the south facing wall of which had been the main castle wall.

After pointing out some of the more obvious features of the site, they agreed to meet for supper in the pub. Sam showered and changed and was drinking a much welcome dark rum and coke. She was listening to one of the barmaids discussing staffing problems with whom she presumed was the owner.

‘And now he says his back has gone again and he won’t be to do tomorrow nights shift either’

‘Well sod ‘im then we’ll just have to find some one else.’

Not one to miss an opportunity to earn some cash Sam spoke up. ’Look, sorry to butt in, as you know I am staying here all summer, and I’ve worked in lots of pubs and bars, and that on the dig....we don’t get paid...and well if you like.... I could do the odd evening shift.’ She caught her breath, the two were looking at each other.

‘You start at six tomorrow, just for a trial mind, and we’ll see how it goes.’ The owner said. ‘Donna get her details’ and turned to leave the bar.

Donna and Sam introduced each other and Sam explained about the dig. While she got a quick tour of the bar and the cellar Professor ap Thomas had come down stairs and was surprised to be served by a member of his team. Sam explained promising it would not interfere with her work on the dig.

They ordered some food and discussed the arrival of the ten undergraduates that would be coming the following day. They chatted quite amiably about the area and its history A few locals drifted in at about ten o’clock. Sam made a quip about if that was all Harlech had to offer in the way of men why did they write a song about them. The professor did not even smile and told her about the siege of Harlech in hushed but excited tones.

1.Crosswords

"Well start behaving like an adult and you might get treated like one." she said in a slight east European accent. He walked out the door. The fine rain, choreographed by the wind, penetrated.

He lit a cigarette and walked towards the pub, at a casual pace, aiming to finish said cigarette before entering said establishment. Bloody smoking laws.

Greeting the usual selection of bar flies with nods and hellos he approached the bar.

‘Shit’ he said hopefully to himself when I realised the eX was working behind the bar?

‘Pint of Flowers?’ She asked in such a way that the enmity was tangible.

‘Please’ he replied to the person he had lived with for three years, feeling battered, confused, guilty and contrite all at the same time. Image of female dog.

The pint was poured in the type of glass he preferred. Placing the correct money on the bar he took a thankful slug and moved to his seat. It's called his seat, but it is just the seat he usually sat in that gives him an optimum view of the bar, where he can sit and read, or pretend to read his book.

‘What you reading? Asked Dave in his broad Mancunian accent.

‘A book Dave.’ This was not the first time they had had this conversation. Tall any skinny, Dave wore at all times, whatever the weather, at least three different combat jackets. He had issues with his medication.

‘I know that but which one?’

‘This one Dave.’ Dave laughed for a little longer than was strictly necessary. 

The after work five o’clock club started to arrive, muddy boots, dirty fingernails leaving clouds of cement or plaster dust in their wake. Neil loped in, dressed in similar attire; he was still ecstatic at Liverpool’s win the previous weekend rubbing the few Evertonians up the wrong way. He went outside for a smoke and on returning placed the correct money on the bar.

‘What would you like?’ said someone he had not seen before. A new barmaid, definitely not the diminutive Glaswegian who usually worked the shift after the eX.

‘Flowers please’

She went for a bitter glass.

‘In a Boddingtons glass please.’ he mumbled.

‘Sorry, you want Boddingtons?’

‘No Flowers in a Boddingtons glass, sorry to be a pain.’ he was not sure if she had noticed his tongue lolling about on the floor. Pint received he returned to his seat, pretended to read book, and as every other male in the bar was doing attempted to discreetly assess the physical attributes of the 'new girl'.

First her ring finger. This may sound a bit corny and in today’s modern society not a genuine reflection of availability, but it often a fairly good indicator. Clear proceed to step 2.

Thirty-five to forty five he guessed but he had never been very good at guessing the age of females. Long dark brown hair with reddish highlights, tied loosely back with a blue elastic band into a pony tale. Black vest top acceptably filled by turquoise bra. Naturally worn, denim jeans of no particular brand that fitted where they were supposed to. 

Neil sat at the bar and had homed onto to her like some sort of guided missile and was using his ’witty repartee’ to gain information.

Sam, her name. The loft room here, where she was staying. The The, favourite band. Brazil, favourite film. Rum and coke, she will save it for later.

He was drinking his pint rather quickly, rolling cigarettes rapidly. He had only ever bought one film on tape and on DVD and that was Terry Gilliam’s 1984 pastiche Brazil. His teenage years were warped by listening to too much of Matt Johnson’s The The.

‘Oh shit.’ he hopefully said to him self. ‘Twat, twat, twat, your only hearing what you want to hear. You are drinking too much, not eating well you getting delusional again. You are losing your slender grip on reality.'

'Gave them up, mobile phones. So nineties. Pre-Raphaelite art.'

He still tried to give the pretence of not listening to the conversation. 'Shit, shit, shit.'

‘What did you say Pete?’ Had he been speaking out loud?

‘Oh nothing just a gruesome bit in the book.’ he mumbled, hurriedly downing his pint,  collected my smoking paraphernalia, said a general goodbye. As he opened the door he glanced back into the bar to find himself being stared at by Sam. Pete attempted a weak grin and thought it might have been returned.