sunk into the White Mount, guarding its mysteries.
But what was the bracelet doing down the well?
―Cornelia was buried there,‖ Silvius said softly. ―Did you not know? Ah, of course not,
for you were dead many years prior to her death. When Brutus died and Cornelia took her own
life, their sons carried them to the well, and buried them within it.‖
―And the bracelet was buried with her,‖ said Saeweald.
―Indeed.‖
The horses ascended the grassy slopes of the mount, towards the derelict tower, Saeweald
clinging to Maggie‘s saddle and studying the tower as she climbed. The Romans had built the
tower of white ragstone, well-buttressed and -founded. It had once soared over thirty paces into
the air, but during the past nine hundred years the top courses of stonework had tumbled down to
lie in untidy heaps by the foundations, and the highest rooms were open to the night air. The
Romans had used this tower to watch the river approaches to the city, and to set at the top of the
structure a beacon to warn both London and surrounding areas of any danger that approached.
Now it was used for little more than as a place for boys to hide from their mothers, and for those
who still followed the old ways to light fires during the solstices.
At the tower‘s base Silvius and Saeweald dismounted from their horses, leaving the reins
untied so they could nibble the grass. Once inside, Silvius led Saeweald to the tower‘s lowest
rooms. The approaches to the basements were half obscured with tumbled beams and stones, and
Saeweald reluctantly had to allow Silvius to aid him over the obstructions.
Eventually they came to the very lowest level of the tower where stood an uneven floor
of large stone slabs.
Here Silvius dropped his cloak to one side.
―Cornelia‘s and Brutus‘ corpses are beneath those slabs?‖ Saeweald asked.
―Aye.‖
―And you want me to lift those slabs?‖
―No. Your power I shall need later.‖ With one hand Silvius made a gesture over the stone
flagging. ―This is but a slight alteration to the magic which would have raised the flower gate,‖
he said. ―Never forget that once I, too, was—‖
―A Kingman. Yes, Silvius. I remember.‖
Then Saeweald gasped, for as he spoke several of the flagstones wavered and then
vanished, revealing a great chasm.
Silvius stepped close, his feet careful at the edge of the chasm, and peered down.
―Gods,‖ he murmured. ―I had not expected this to be so beautiful.‖
Saeweald looked away from Silvius and back to the well, slowly drawing closer to it. The
way opened into a rough circular shape that spiralled downwards in great twists of rough rock.
Far, far beneath rippled an emerald pool of water, and Saeweald knew that the depths of this pool
were unknowable, even to such as himself. As he watched the waters surged, their waves lapping
higher and higher up the wild walls of the well, as if trying to reach him. A dull roar echoed in
his ears.
Shaken by the power of the raging waters, Saeweald studied the rock walls of the well.
They did not consist of the finished masonry of human hands, but instead twisted and spiralled
down in wild, sharp ledges. This was a savage and untamed cleft, a formidable place of magic
and power.
Saeweald‘s face sagged in astonishment. ―I can‘t believe the well still retains this much
power. Gods, Silvius, did Brutus and Cornelia‘s sons see this when they buried their parents?‖
―No,‖ said Silvius. ―They saw only ordinariness, and a convenient place to rest their
parents.‖
―How in all that‘s good and merciful,‖ Saeweald said, ―did Brutus and Cornelia‘s sons
manage their way down?‖
―The well made it easy for them,‖ said Silvius. ―All they and the mourners saw were
smooth, even courses of stones for the walls, a dribble of a puddle far below, and an easy flight
of steps that wound its way around the side of the well. To them this place was nothing more
than a source of water for Brutus‘ palace, and not a very reliable one at that.‖
―I have never seen the well so vibrant,‖ Saeweald said.
―You know it as a vital part of this land,‖ said Silvius. ―But did you know that there are
others in the world?‖
Saeweald finally dragged his eyes from the well to Silvius. ―No.‖
―There was one like this in my world—we called it a god-well. It was the heart of the city
of Atlantis, which was itself the heart of Thera. When the Darkwitch Ariadne destroyed Thera,
she also destroyed its god-well. ‖
―Thank the gods Genvissa didn‘t manage to destroy this one,‖ said Saeweald.
―And to why I need you here,‖ said Silvius. ―The well is open now, and who knows who
can feel it beside you and I? Saeweald—‖
―I cannot go down,‖ Saeweald said, looking again at the rough walls. It was not the
magic which deterred him, but the simple fact that his twisted body would not allow him to even
try. ―You need me to stay here, and guard the entrance to the well with whatever power I can
summon while you retrieve the bracelet. In case—‖
―Aye,‖ said Silvius. ―I will be as fast as I can, but still…‖ He stepped close to Saeweald,
and put a hand on the man‘s shoulder. ―One day, my friend, you will be whole again. Then you
may go down.‖
―Be careful,‖ said Saeweald.
Silvius nodded, then dropped to the edge of the well, carefully lowering himself down to
the first of the twisting ledges. Above him, Saeweald stripped off his robe and, naked, the light
from the well playing over the antler tattoo on his chest and shoulders, began to hum a strange
melody.
Within moments the entrance to the well had clouded over, and then vanished, as if all
that Saeweald stared at was a rough, uneven flooring of gravel.
Silvius glanced above to make sure that Saeweald had concealed the entrance, grinned,
then concentrated on the climb. The way down was difficult, but not impossible, and Silvius‘
pace quickened once he became more confident in finding his hand and footholds.
After some time had passed Silvius spied what he was looking for: an opening in the rock
wall, partway around the well from where he clung to a ledge. The roaring from the waters—still
far below—had now increased greatly in volume, and the rocks had grown ever more slippery
with condensation, and Silvius was more than glad he had found the entrance to the burial
chamber. Even more careful now that his destination was in sight, Silvius concentrated on
climbing along the rock walls to the opening.
In a few short minutes he breathed a sigh of relief and leaped lightly down to the floor of
the passageway. He made a gesture with his hand, and immediately the passageway was filled
with a soft, golden light.
Unlike the rock walls of the well, the passageway had smooth walls and an even, dustless
rock floor, and Silvius wasted no time in striding down its length.
It was only some thirty or thirty-five paces long, leading directly into a rounded chamber
that looked as though it had been water-carved from the living rock.
In the centre of the chamber were two waist-high rock plinths, some three feet wide and
seven long, and on each of these plinths rested cloth-wrapped figures.
The corpses of Brutus and Cornelia.
Silvius halted the instant he stepped inside the chamber, staring at the plinths.
A sardonic smile creased his face as he walked to the plinth that bore the larger and taller
of the cloth-wrapped corpses. He lifted his hands and rested them gently, almost hesitantly, on
the wrappings that covered the corpse‘s head. ―So much power that you have wasted, Brutus.‖
Silvius drew in a deep breath, then raised both his head and his hands from the corpse of
his son.
―Cornelia,‖ he said, as he stared at the corpse which lay on the other plinth.
―Poor Cornelia,‖ he said very slowly. ―Poor, dead Cornelia. Used and abused by all about
you.‖ He walked over. ―Cornelia,‖ Silvius said again, ―is it time to wake?‖
He grinned to himself. ―Why, I do believe so.‖ Then he reached down with both hands to
the cloths that wove about her breasts and, sliding his fingers between them, tore them apart.
―Cornelia!‖
Something fell from amid the bandages, then toppled from the plinth and clattered to the
floor where it lay glinting.
Silvius drew in a deep breath, then leaned down and picked it up.
―Gods,‖ he whispered, ―the Greeks always knew how to make a fine piece of jewellery.‖
In his palm nestled an exquisitely worked gold and ruby bracelet.
Then, suddenly, Silvius‘ head jerked upwards.
Saeweald felt it before he actually heard or saw anything.
A coldness seeping from the cracks of the lighthouse basement‘s stone walls. The night