He inquired:
"Who rang that bell? Has the day come?"
The sorcerer, thoroughly frightened and trembling, answered:
"No, the day has not come. Sleep on."
Taffy, though dazzled by the increasing brilliancy of the light, had
heard another deep voice, more commanding in its tones than even a
king's, call out, "Arthur, awake, the bell has rung. The day is
breaking. Awake, great King Arthur!"
But even against such a voice, that of the sorcerer, now scared beyond
measure, lest the king and his host should discover the cheat, and
with his sword, Excalibur, chop the heads off both Taffy and himself,
answered:
"No, it is still night. Sleep on, Arthur the Great."
Erect over all, his head aloft and crowned with jewels, as with stars,
the King himself now spoke:
"No, my warriors, the day has not yet come, when the Black Eagle and
the Golden Eagle will meet in war. Sleep on, loyal souls. The morning
of Wales has not yet dawned."
Then, like the gentle soughing of the evening breeze among forest
trees, all sound died away, and in the snap of a finger, all were
asleep again. Seizing the hand of Taffy, the sorcerer hurried him out
of the cave, moved the stone back in its place and motioning to Taffy
to do the same, he quickly shoveled and kicked the loose dirt in the
hole and stamped it down: When Taffy turned to look for him, he was
gone, without even taking the trouble to call his dupe a fool.
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