Robbins Library Digital Projects Announcement: We are currently working on a large-scale migration of the Robbins Library Digital Projects to a new platform. This migration affects The Camelot Project, The Robin Hood Project, The Crusades Project, The Cinderella Bibliography, and Visualizing Chaucer.
While these resources will remain accessible during the course of migration, they will be static, with reduced functionality. They will not be updated during this time. We anticipate the migration project to be complete by Summer 2025.
If you have any questions or concerns, please contact us directly at robbins@ur.rochester.edu. We appreciate your understanding and patience.
While these resources will remain accessible during the course of migration, they will be static, with reduced functionality. They will not be updated during this time. We anticipate the migration project to be complete by Summer 2025.
If you have any questions or concerns, please contact us directly at robbins@ur.rochester.edu. We appreciate your understanding and patience.
Excerpt from Silver on the Tree
He stared round the square room, filling the length and breadth of the tower, into which they had just come. "Look!"
Brightness was everywhere: a soft, greenish light filtered through the quartz-like walls of the room. It could be a cave of ice, Will thought. But this was a cluttered, busy place, as if someone had left it in a hurry while preoccupied with some great complex matter. Piles of curling manuscript lay on the tables and shelves, and on the thick rush mat that covered the floor; against one wall an enormous heavy table was littered with strips of shining metal and chunks of glass and rock, red and white and greenish-blue, all among an array of delicate gleaming tools which reminded Will of the workshop behind his father's jewelry shop at home. Then his eye was caught by something high on the wall: a plain round shield, made of gleaming gold.
Gwion leapt light-footed up on to a table and took the shield down from the wall. He held it out.
"Take this, Will. Three shields, once in the days of his greatness, King Gwyddno made for the Light. Two of them were taken by the Light to places where danger might come, and the third they left here. I have never known why -- but perhaps this moment now is why, and has been all along. Here."
Will took the round gleaming thing and slid his arm through the holding-straps on the inner side. "It's beautiful," he said. "And-so are the other two that he made. I have seen them, I think. In . . . other places. They have never been used."
"Let us hope this one need not be used either," Gwion said.
Bran said impatiently, "Where is the king?" He was looking up at a curving wrought-iron staircase, wonderfully curli-cued, which spiralled its way up to disappear through an opening in the high glassy ceiling of the room.
"Yes," Gwion said. "Up there. We shall go up, but you must let me lead. We shall come to certain rooms in which you will see no one, and at the last we shall come to the king."
He set one hand on the curving rail of the staircase, and looked hard at Will. "Where is the belt of Signs?"
"It is at the Battle of Mount Badon," Will said wistfully. "Where Merriman took it to the great king, for as much of the winning as can be achieved there. And it will be at the last encounter too, when the Lady comes and all the power of the Light is joined. But not until then. And then only if -- " He stopped.
Brightness was everywhere: a soft, greenish light filtered through the quartz-like walls of the room. It could be a cave of ice, Will thought. But this was a cluttered, busy place, as if someone had left it in a hurry while preoccupied with some great complex matter. Piles of curling manuscript lay on the tables and shelves, and on the thick rush mat that covered the floor; against one wall an enormous heavy table was littered with strips of shining metal and chunks of glass and rock, red and white and greenish-blue, all among an array of delicate gleaming tools which reminded Will of the workshop behind his father's jewelry shop at home. Then his eye was caught by something high on the wall: a plain round shield, made of gleaming gold.
Gwion leapt light-footed up on to a table and took the shield down from the wall. He held it out.
"Take this, Will. Three shields, once in the days of his greatness, King Gwyddno made for the Light. Two of them were taken by the Light to places where danger might come, and the third they left here. I have never known why -- but perhaps this moment now is why, and has been all along. Here."
Will took the round gleaming thing and slid his arm through the holding-straps on the inner side. "It's beautiful," he said. "And-so are the other two that he made. I have seen them, I think. In . . . other places. They have never been used."
"Let us hope this one need not be used either," Gwion said.
Bran said impatiently, "Where is the king?" He was looking up at a curving wrought-iron staircase, wonderfully curli-cued, which spiralled its way up to disappear through an opening in the high glassy ceiling of the room.
"Yes," Gwion said. "Up there. We shall go up, but you must let me lead. We shall come to certain rooms in which you will see no one, and at the last we shall come to the king."
He set one hand on the curving rail of the staircase, and looked hard at Will. "Where is the belt of Signs?"
"It is at the Battle of Mount Badon," Will said wistfully. "Where Merriman took it to the great king, for as much of the winning as can be achieved there. And it will be at the last encounter too, when the Lady comes and all the power of the Light is joined. But not until then. And then only if -- " He stopped.