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 So, winding long grasses and dry hay into several crude torches which he was able to light with a bit of flint from his tinderbox, he went down into the cave and far beyond the clear daylight. The cave extended back into the rock, like a kind of passage, and MacMahon noticed that its walls seemed to be hung with ancient weaponry, partly gone to rust, and ancient shields marked with a long-vanished heraldry. The place was obviously very old indeed and a voice in the back of his mind told him to turn about and run. Yet both greed and curiosity overcame the warning. If the cavern was indeed old, he reasoned, then it was quite possible that there would be a treasure of some sort near at hand. He waded across a small stream which flowed through the passageway and crouched down to pass below a rocky overhang as he travelled on into the gloom. Not even his improvised torch gave him much light in this underground world. Squeezing through a narrow section of the rock, he suddenly found himself in a high vaulted chamber where stalactites hung down from the parts of the roof that he could actually see. As for the rest of the ceiling, it vaulted away upwards into the dark and was lost to view. The whole place suggested the style of some old hall or burial crypt of some mighty church. Holding up the last of the torches, which was already threatening to burn down, MacMahon examined the rocky walls around him, still convinced that treasure lay in the furthest recesses of the place. He found no fortune but he saw that the walls were black with soot, as if several fires had been lit against them. Here and there, bits of old armour and abandoned weapons had been scattered across the floor and lay in rough heaps close to the wall. Further along, he found a couple of ancient and primitive fireplaces where charred wood still lay, though it had been cold for a long time. How the smoke had escaped through the shadowy roof he couldn't tell, but it was evident that fires had burned here in times long past. Then, half-way up the wall, resting in a large niche in the rock, he saw a large silver horn. It was long and curved and appeared to be carved with antique hunting and battle scenes. It lay almost beyond his grasp and, as he stretched up to take it down, MacMahon suddenly became aware that he was not alone in the cavern. Although his torch had all but expired, his eyes had become accustomed to thet gloom and a strange light seemed to glow from a kind of fungus which grew along the rocky walls. He turned around quickly and was amazed to see several figures lying stretched on the ground close to a pile of ancient weaponry, covered with furs and animal pelts. Massive double-headed axes and halberds lay within easy reach of them and, for a second, MacMahon thought that they were dead and that he had blundered into some prehistoric mausoleum, the grave of a Celtic king and his attendants. > > > Read the final part in this story. From Beasts, Banshees and Brides from the Sea by Bob Curran |
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