Alan Garner by The Owl Service

Author:The Owl Service
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-09-07T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Suppose," SAID GWYN.

"Just suppose, a long time back, hundreds and hundreds of years, someone, somehow, did something in this valley. Suppose he found a way to control some power, or force, and used it to make a woman out of flowers. And suppose it went wrong - got out of hand - I don't know.

It got out of hand because it wasn't neutral any more. There was a brain behind it. Do you follow? Neutral like a battery, I mean. You can use it to explode a bomb or to fry an egg: it depends on you."

"What is the power?"

said Alison.

"I can't explain," said Gwyn.

"I once saw a nettle growing in an old garage in Aber. A pale little thing it was. It had split the concrete floor."

"I wonder how he felt when he saw what he'd done," said Alison.

"It'd be enough to send him off his head. But why wasn't it finished with long ago?

"I don't think it can be finished," said Gwyn.

"I think this valley really is a kind of reservoir. The house, look, smack in the middle, with the mountains all round, shutting it in, guarding the house. I think the power is always there and always will be. It builds up and builds up until it has to be let loose - like filling and emptying a dam. And it works though people. I said to Roger that I thought the plates were batteries and you were the wires."

"If the force was in the plates" said Alison, "I've let it out, and everything's right again. Oh, Gwyn, is it?"

"No. This is what frightens me. It's not as quick as that. The force was in the plates, and in the painting, but it's in us now.

That's where the pattern's gone. And Huw's trying to deal with it."

"Huw? Why him?"

"He's a descendant of Gwydion, or of Lleu Llaw Gyffes: it comes to the same thing. You wouldn't credit it, but it must be true.

And all his talk is something he can't quite remember, or can't quite forget.

He doesn't understand it, mind: it's more of an instinct with him, it's that deep.

For instance, he says the painting was done by his uncle - well, you saw how old it was, didn't you?

But I bet he's not wrong.

It's a question of which uncle!

"But Huw's a labourer," said Alison.

"And what else could he be here?"

said Gwyn.

"He's not a labourer to the people in this valley. I'll tell you that much. It's a queer word they use for him: old, too: can't give you Chapter Seventeen.

the Enghsh, but it's something between 'sir' and

'master' and 'father' - respectful and friendly, very clannish.

Anyway, Huw's - responsible.

"Gwyn, are you sure about all this?"

"Of course I'm not sure. If I was back in Aber I'd laugh the whole

'thing offand say we were barmy. But I'm here in the valley, and it's an answer that fits. Give me a better one and I'll jump at it."

"You're right" said Alison.

"I know you are. I've felt it, but couldn't put it into words like you can.

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