“Druids!” cried the Count, “I did not know [pg 149]that there were any Druids. I thought that the last of them had disappeared years ago.”
“Not so,” replied the peddler; “the people who rule do not know what is going on about them. Now I have been among this people the greater part of my life. I have seen them, not as they show themselves to you, but as they are. You think that they are Christians—not very good Christians, perhaps, but still not worse than other people—and believing the Creeds, if they believe anything. Now I know for a certainty that many of them are no more Christians now than their fathers were three hundred and fifty years ago. I have seen sometimes, when no one knew that I saw, what they really worshipped. I have pieced together many little things. I have heard hints dropped unawares, and I know that there is a secret society, which has existed ever since the island was conquered, which has for its object the bringing back of the old faith. I could name—if things turn out as I expect they will, I will name—men whom you believe to be quiet, respectable citizens, but who are the heads of a conspiracy reaching all over Britain, against Rome and the Christian Church. You never see them except in the tunic and the cap, but they can wear on occasion the Druid’s robe and crown.”
“But tell me,” said the Count, with a certain impatience, “what has this got to do with my daughter?”
“This, my lord,” answered the other, “that if the Druids are making the great effort for which they have been preparing for no one knows how many years, they will begin it with all the solemnity that is possible—in a word, with the great sacrifice. This, I suppose, has not been practised for many generations, but it has not been forgotten. To speak plainly, I believe that the Lady Carna has been carried off for the victim.”
The Count staggered back as if he had been struck. “Impossible!” he cried. “Such things cannot be in Britain: and why should they fix upon her?”
“For two reasons,” said the peddler. “She is of royal race. You very likely do not know or care about such things. All Britons to you will be much about the same; but they do not forget it. Yes, though her father was nothing more than a sailor, she is descended from Cassibelan. And then she is a Christian. These are the two reasons why they have chosen her—this is what they honour her for, and this is what they hate her for.”
“But where,” cried the Count, “where is this monstrous thing to be done?”
“That,” replied the other, “I think I know. It can hardly be done anywhere but at the Great Temple, the Choir Gawr, as they call it themselves.”
“And where is this Great Temple?”
“About forty miles inland, in a nearly northerly direction. I have seen the place once, and I can find my way to it, I believe; but, to make sure, I will find a guide.”