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All night Madog had pondered the question of how without killing Rhiannon he could keep her from uttering the formulae that would perpetuate the curse or freeze and bewitch him with a potent glance of her eyessome witches could do that, he had heard. The stealthy practices of sneak attacks answered both questions. To silence a guard, one crept up from behind and cast a heavy cloth over his head, pressing it against his mouth. One could then slip a knife between his ribs or even cut his throat under the cloth in complete silence. |
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The thought of cutting Rhiannon's throat sent a thrill of pleasure through Madog, but he soon felt a renewal of the terrible symptoms of the cursethe sickness in his belly, the difficulty in breathing that made him sweat and pant, the pounding heart and growing vertigo. Madog nearly began to weep. If the thought of harming her could do this to him, what would happen when he actually laid hands on her? Trembling, he reached under his bed and drew out the small horn of holy water he had bought from a priest and took a sip. At once he felt much better. Perhaps he would not need to . . . no, he could not go on buying and drinking holy water all his life. He must do something about Rhiannon. |
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Then he realized he would not need to harm her. All he had to do was blindfold and gag Rhiannon, tie her securely, and hide her well in the forest. What happened after that would be up to God. No palpitations or dizziness or sickness followed that thought, and Madog sighed with relief. It would be God's Will that would make Rhiannon die of hunger and thirst or be eaten by wild beasts or be wetted and chilled and die of fever and affliction of the lungs. He would not have done anything to harm the witch, and her curse would die with her. |
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Before dawn while he waited for the women to come out of Aber the curse struck Madog again. This |
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