And the centuries that were coming to
Spain darkened the walls as they came, through autumnal shades
until they were all black, as though they all mourned in secret
for lost generations; but they have not yet crumbled.
The fireplaces they made with great square red tiles, which they
also put in the chimneys amongst rude masses of mortar: and these
great dark holes remained always mysterious to those that looked
for mystery in the family that whiled away the ages in that
castle. And by every fireplace two queer carved creatures stood
upholding the mantlepiece, with mystery in their faces and curious
limbs, uniting the hearth with fable and with tales told in the
wood. Years after the men that carved them were all dust the
shadows of these creatures would come out and dance in the room,
on wintry nights when all the lamps were gone and flames stole out
and flickered above the smouldering logs.
In the second storey one great saloon ran all the length of the
castle. In it was a long table with eight legs that had carvings
of roses rambling along its edges: the table and its legs were all
of one piece with the floor. They would never have hollowed the
great trunk in time had they not used fire. The second storey was
barely complete on the day that Rodriguez and Don Alderon and
Morano came to the chains that guarded the park. And the King of
Shadow Valley would not permit his gift to be seen in anything
less than its full magnificence, and had commanded that no man in
the world might enter to see the work of his bowmen and craftsmen
until it should frown at all comers a castle formidable as any in
Spain.
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