“No, sir. Nothing used to happen until you brought down the folk that are here now.”
“I see, I see. And you know nothing of the cause of the disturbances of the last few days?”
There was an ominous pause, while Hughes seemed to be considering his words. The room grew a little tenser; Pendleton looked up in surprise.
“What! You do!”
“Well, sir, I might say so; it’s connected with what I’ve heard about Parson Lolly. But it’s an old story, sir—tells about the great lord who built the castle that was here.”
“Ha! it does? About Sir Pharamond Kay?”
“It’s sure to, sir.”
“Sir Pharamond—hm—built this castle—exactly—well, come on, man; what is this?”
Contrasted with Morgan’s, that was a thoroughly intelligible tale the tall keeper recited in his voice with the mellow burr and up-ended sentences. Under those conditions of semi-darkness and suspense in the old, black-beamed chamber, it made a thoroughly moving story. And to one who knew the rigours and alarums of feudatory existence, who realized the ingrown awe of their masters felt by peasants with a long tradition of ancestral servitude to imperious Lords Marchers, it was quite obvious what a foothold in fact this tale of enchantments must have had. For from his youth, or ever that most ancient castle up the Vale was destroyed, Sir Pharamond Kay had been a wizard, and between him and Parson Lolly, then presumably a magnus in the prime of his powers, existed a rivalry shrewd and unflagging!
Wizards, to be sure, are not born but made, and Sir Pharamond went through complicated and profound measures to acquire his occult influence. This was before he had achieved his turbulent lordship, and his father ruled all Aidenn Forest with mailed fist. Sir Pharamond first unbaptized himself by three times spewing out water from the Holy Well. Then he stitched up his own lips with three stitches and for a certain space fasted and remained dumb. When he had unsealed his mouth again, he went by himself to a lonely room and did certain rites with a Bible, a fire, and a circle drawn with blood upon the floor, whereafter the Bible was ashes and Sir Pharamond, as he well deserved, was a true and certified wizard.