Origin of Druid (Druid's Path Book 1)

by Mark Philipson

“Hmm,” Kermode nodded and left it at that. “What ever became of …” he trailed off, struggling to recall a name, “the man who killed his wife in the square.”

  “That would be Orin,” Kane said. He fell silent.

  At that moment the door to Elgin’s roundhouse flew open. Orin and two young women, bound together by a single rope, came out. Two soldiers, hands poised over their short swords, walked alongside.

  Two more soldiers, the secretary, and the man Kane called Architectus filed out. Again, Architectus looked at Kermode as he walked by. Kane averted his eyes. Kermode looked Architectus squarely in the eye and pulled back the hood of his robes. Kermode felt a slight tingling flow from the dragon amulet. It faded when the party of Romans passed.

  When the Romans where well on their way southward on the path, Kane nodded, “Well, that is done.”

  “What is that, Kane?”

  “Orin and the two women have been sold to the Romans.”

  “What?” Kermode asked, unsure of what Kane just said. Before Kane could answer Kermode raised his hand. “Your master is dealing in slaves?” Kermode’s eyes narrowed as he asked the question.

  Kane didn’t have time to reply. Kermode turned away and walked across the stone pathway. He rapped on the front door with his staff. Elgin answered. “Can you tell me, in your own words, what just happened here?” Kermode demanded.

  “Gods to you,” Elgin said.

  “Gods,” Kermode replied flatly.

  “Come in, Druid Kermode,” Elgin grinned. “Close the door behind you.”

  Kermode stepped inside. He waited for an answer.

  Elgin poured himself some red wine. He downed the cup and gasped for air. “Want a drink?” Elgin asked. “This Roman wine will kick you in the head like a mule. The Romans water it down, I like it straight out of the amphora.”

  “Indeed,” Kermode nodded. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “What just happened here,” Elgin tapped the tabletop with his index finger, “was a trade agreement between me and the Romans.” He poured another cup and lifted it to his lips.

  “You’re trading people?” Kermode’s voice rose and stretched out the words.

  Elgin exhaled and set the cup down. “The man Orin was condemned by you. I saved him from certain death. The women,” Elgin shrugged, “were a request from the ambassador.” Elgin took a big gulp. He stifled a belch and wiped wine off his chin.

  “What will become of Orin?” Kermode asked. He had a good idea what would happen to the women.

  “Orin will be sent to the gladiators schools in Rome. There he will be trained in hand to hand combat,” Elgin replied. He knitted his eyebrows for a few moments then added, “I hope he gives the Romans a good showing.”

  “So, you’ve gone from farmer to flesh peddler?” Kermode sighed. He stared at the floor.

  “Ha!” Elgin laughed. He continued laughing until he broke into a fit of coughing. He settled down after Kermode gave him a cup of water. Elgin drank the water and cleared his throat.

  “Kermode,” Elgin said. He stood up and stepped closer. He peered at Kermode through bloodshot and glazed eyes and said, “If you had given me a double harvest I wouldn’t have to sell the people of the tribe into slavery.”

  “I made no promises about the harvest,” Kermode said. “It is unfair to cast the blame on me.”

  Elgin laughed again. “Unfair?” he said three times, each time nodding to himself and then shaking his head. “You think you’ve been treated unfairly by me? You don’t know much about Roman justice. You don’t know what it’s like to have—” Elgin cut himself off. He sat back down and drained wine from the bottom of the cup. He looked at Kermode. “I think we are done here. There is nothing left to talk about.”

  “Very well.” Kermode pulled his hood back over his head. He turned and left Elgin’s roundhouse.

  Kane approached, “Did you learn what you wanted to know?” he asked.

  “Yes …” Kermode replied, nodding, “… and … no.” He shook his head.

  Kermode continued on the path to the village. As he walked he thought about Elgin’s words. What did Elgin know of Roman justice? The smell the sea on a cool breeze cleared these thoughts from Kermode’s mind.

  Nine

  Three Pieces of Gold

  LONG, WARM SUMMER days passed into the coolness of the fall. The fall gave way to cold winter nights. The cold winters faded. Snows melted when the spring returned. Spring ran its course. Warm summer days returned.

  Durst, son of Kermode and Idellsa, learned to talk and walk as the seasons passed.

  Londinium, the first permanent Roman settlement in Briton, was established on Durst’s third birthday.

  Roman merchant ships, some as long as 150 lengths of one man’s arm from elbow to wrist, brought goods from the Empire: olive oil from Egypt, spices from Arabia, and silks from India.

  Every day Roman traders arrived and ventured out across Briton, looking for abundant sources of grain and minerals. In Londinium, the rustic jewelry made by the tribes quickly became fashionable among the Romans living in the new settlement.

  Londinium swelled from a wooden walled outpost to a bustling city in two years. A concrete wall surrounded marble and wood buildings. Fresh water flowed from fountains at every other intersection of cobble stone streets.

  People of the tribes, eager to become part of the Roman way of life, flocked to the city. They swore allegiance to and became citizens of Rome. With the benefits of Roman rule—clean water, good roads, and the abundance of trade goods—came the burden of taxes. Every citizen of Rome paid a yearly tax based on his wealth: rich merchants paid a portion of yearly income, market traders handed over goods, famers living on lands claimed by the ever expanding city, gave the Romans a share of their crops.

  As Kermode made his daily journeys to the village he noticed activity at Elgin’s farm. Groups of laborers cleared a large rectangular hole. Another group set a grid of iron bars on stones. Workers mixed and poured concrete, the basis of Roman architecture, into the hole. Kermode watched as the workers worked the surface of the concrete with metal tools.

  “What is happening at the farm?” Kermode asked Kane one day.

  “Elgin is having a house built in the Roman style,” Kane answered.

  “Indeed.” Kermode nodded.

  ■ ■ ■ ■

  By the time Durst’s fifth birthday rolled around, Elgin’s house, or Villa Rustica, as Kermode had learned to call it, was complete.

  One day as Kermode passed on his way to the village he saw the secretary to the Roman ambassador and the man known as Architectus entering Elgin’s villa.

  Inside the villa, Elgin, the secretary, and a Architectus, reclined on couches.They drank wine from silver goblets and ate fresh fruit from trays set between the couches.

  “I’m going to get to the point,” the ambassador’s secretary said after finishing his second cup of wine. “The time has come for you to fulfill your part of the bargain.”

  “Has it been that long already,” Elgin said. He looked puzzled then called for his scribe.Elgin ordered the scribe to search the record books and verify the deal made with the ambassador.

  The scribe returned. “It is right here,” he said, unrolling a scroll.

  “‘Read it to me,” Elgin said.

  “I, Elgin of Bredon, enter in a diplomatic exchange and adoption program with Ambassador Justinius Celsus, on behalf of Albinus Norvano Architectus.”

  The secretary pulled a document from a leather pouch. He opened it and handed it to the scribe.

  Elgin fell silent.

  “The document has been signed by the ambassador, myself and Architectus. It has been stamped …” The secretary trailed off then asked Elgin, “This is your mark?”

  Elgin stared at the document for a long time. He admitted, “Yes, it is my mark,” when the tapping of the secretary’s fingers on the marble table merged together.

  The secretary leaned in and said, “Y
ou do realize the weight of the situation?”

  “Of course I understand,” Elgin nodded. “The boy is with his mother. They are visiting the grand parents.”

  “When do you expect them to return?” the secretary asked. He leaned back and stroked his chin.

  “Two days.”

  The secretary turned to Architectus, “Do you approve of this?” he asked.

  Architectus broke his silence: “A day or two will make no difference. The ship I’ve booked passage on doesn’t leave for three days.”

  “I thank you for your generosity and understanding,” Elgin said.

  “I accept your thanks and hospitality, Elgin,” Architectus said. He rose from the couch then added, “I want you to know I will not leave Britannia without an adopted son to bring back to Rome. And the deal has been struck with you.”

  “It will be done,” Elgin promised.

  Elgin stood in the doorway. When he was certain the Romans where clear of his estate Elgin walked down the path to the village.

  ■ ■ ■ ■

  Judocus and Elgin faced each other. Elgin slid a leather pouch across the table. “Here it is,” Elgin said. “There’s six pieces of gold in there.”

  “What do you want me to do for—?”

  “Not so loud,” Elgin cut him off. “Come, let us step outside,” Elgin added when he saw some of the other people in the tavern looking their way.

  Elgin picked up the pouch as the two men stood up and left.

  “What I want is simple: find me a five year old boy and bring him to me soon.”

  “I don’t understand,” Judocus shook his head. “That kind of thing could get you buried alive, laying with a young boy.”

  Elgin shook his head, “Don’t concern yourself with the why. You just bring me the boy.”

  “Agreed,” Judocus said. He reached out.

  “Half now.” Elgin took out three coins. “Half later, when you bring me the boy.” He pressed the coins into Judocus’ hand.

  “Where will I find a boy that is five years old?”

  “I might as well do this myself,” Elgin muttered. “I can tell you of one.”

  Judocus waited.

  “The son of the Druid Kermode,” Elgin whispered.

  Judocus remained silent, eyebrows knitted. He seemed to be working something out his mind. As though he were asking himself questions and answering them. “Expect me at dark tomorrow,” he told Elgin.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  ■ ■ ■ ■

  The next morning Elgin stood on the courtyard. He saw Kane in the field. He called him over. “Tell Brax to bring the carriage around.”

  “Very well,” Kane replied.

  Elgin walked back inside. He peered out from behind the door. When the carriage pulled up he walked out and said a few words to Brax. Elgin returned to the house. He led his youngest wife Breda and their son Sativola across the stone walkway. He opened the door to the coach and hurried them inside. He stepped back, caught Brax’s eye, and waved him on.

  Satisfied the coach was on its way, Elgin stepped back inside the villa.

  Around the same time Kermode walked along the path leading inland. High green hills lay before him. He walked most of the morning. The clearing containing the wide path gave way to dense woodlands. Sunlight filtered through towering trees.

  Kermode walked slowly and surely. He stepped over fallen logs, probing the thick forest floor with his staff. He looked at markings carved into trees: circles with lines pointing to iconic figures representing different tribes. Kermode kept close eye on the hawk clutching double oak leaves in its talons. The Iceni tribe.

  The forest cleared away. Clusters of roundhouses appeared. Smoke poured out of open windows and a central hole in the thatched roofs. Children in ragged clothes played in mud puddles. Kermode continued through the center of the village. The roundhouses became closer together. Piles of stinking garbage littered the paths between them.

  Kermode stopped at the biggest house. He rapped on the closed door. A woman answered, “Are you the druid from Bredon?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m Kermode. I was told the headman is sick.”

  The woman opened the door. Kermode stepped inside. He walked across the dirt floor. A man lay on a straw mat. He held his stomach. “You must help me,” the man pleaded.

  “What ails you?” Kermode asked.

  “It’s my belly,” the headman groaned. “It’s tied in a knot.”

  “Lift your tunic,” Kermode said. He set his fingers on the grimy skin and pressed. The man moaned in pain.

  “You seem to have a tightening in your gut.”

  “What will you do?” the headman asked.

  “It’s not me,” Kermode shook his head. “It’s you. You will do a few simple movements to help your stomach along.”

  “What is it, druid?”

  “Take deep breaths and hold your stomach in,” Kermode told the headman. “Hold the gut tighter, breathe in and breathe out.” The headman fell into a rhythmic pattern. “Now, I want you to lift one leg and draw it close to you.”

  The headman pulled a leg in. He passed a long noisy stream of gas that stunk up the roundhouse. “Other leg now,” Kermode said through his hand. “Now both.”

  The headman held his knees as close to his stomach as he could. “I need to get up,” he said. He got off the mat, lowered his tunic and stepped outside. He returned. “A good shit was all I needed,” he said, holding his stomach.

  Kermode stayed as guest of the headman. They walked around the village. When a young boy fell out of a tree Kermode pulled the boy’s leg hard. The bone reset with a snap. Kermode wrapped a flat piece of wood with heavy twine around the boy’s leg.

  Kermode slept outside. The smoke from the fires and the stench of the slop in the roundhouses gagged him. He drifted off staring at a sky full of stars.

  ■ ■ ■ ■

  Just before Kermode bed down under the trees, Judocus walked up the path leading to Kermode’s roundhouse. He stood behind an oak tree and watched the back door. When darkness fell Judocus crouched low and crept up to the door. He pushed the door slightly open and peered inside.

  Idellsa stood in the kitchen with her back turned. Judocus stepped inside. Young Durst cried out, “Judocus,” when he saw Judocus standing in the doorway.

  Idellsa turned to face Judocus. “What are you doing here?”

  Judocus stepped forward. He reached out and set his hands on Idellsa’s shoulder. As he spun her around he placed his hand over her mouth. Idellsa sunk her teeth into his hand. Judocus pressed his hand harder and drove Idellsa’s chin back. He pulled a knife from his belt and drew it across Idellsa’s exposed throat. Idellsa’s skin peeled away from the razor sharp blade. Blood oozed then poured from the gash that went deep into her throat. Idellsa fell face down. Blood puddled on the floor as Idellsa gurgled as she fought for air.

  Judocus looked at Durst. He pulled a rope from the sack tied to his belt. Durst turned and took off running. Judocus chased him down and threw him to the floor. He gagged Durst with a dirty rag and tied his arms and legs together.

  A carriage pulled up to the roundhouse. Brax stood in the doorway. “Take the boy,” Kane said. Brax grabbed Durst and dragged him into the coach.

  Judocus looked around as the carriage rolled away. He went back inside. He threw Idellsa’s body over his shoulder and walked outside. Judocus walked over to the well. He moved the dipping bucket out of the way then tossed Idellsa’s body into the well. She landed with a thud followed by a splash.

  ■ ■ ■ ■

  Judocus rapped on the door of Elgin’s villa. Elgin answered. “Do you have the boy?” he whispered.

  Elgin pulled Judocus inside and closed the door. “Burn these clothes and get a bath.”

  “What about my three pieces of gold?” Judocus asked. “I want my specie.”

  “After you’ve burned those clothes you’re wearing and washed the blood off,” Elgin insisted.

&
nbsp; As Judocus stripped off his clothes and placed them in a fire pot, one of Elgin’s servants held Durst in her arms and comforted the crying boy. Judocus heard the sobs as he walked by Sativola’s bedroom.

  Judocus took a long time in the bath. He finished and dressed in a new tunic, trousers, and knee-high lace-up boots. Elgin handed Judocus the three pieces of gold as Judocus walked out the door.

  Ten

  Wrapped in White Linens

  AS KERMODE MADE his way up the path to his house he saw a silhouetted figure standing before him. As he got closer he saw it was Osker. Osker dropped the hand shielding his eyes and approached.

  “Gods to you this day, Osker,” Kermode said.

  “Gods,” Osker replied then hung his head and fell silent.

  “Is something wrong?” Kermode asked as Osker held Kermode’s elbow.

  “Don’t go in there, Kermode.”

  “Where?”

  “Your house.”

  “Why?”

  “Something bad has happened,” Osker said.

  “What are you saying?” Kermode tried to pull away from Osker’s strong grasp.

  “Idellsa and Durst are both missing. It looks as if there’s been a struggle.”

  It took a few moments for what Osker said to sink in. Kermode had to ask Osker three times what he was saying.

  Osker grabbed Kermode’s shoulders and shook, “Idellsa and Durst are gone.”

  Kermode tore himself out of Osker’s hands and ran as fast as he could to the roundhouse. Osker trotted behind.

  A pool of dark blood lay over the kitchen floor. Kermode knelt down and rubbed his finger in the blood. It was cold and hard. This blood must have been shed some time last night, he thought.

  Kermode stepped back. He looked around the room. He saw drops of blood leading out of the back door. He followed the drops across the lawn. The trail of blood drops ended at the well. Kermode looked up at the building stones. His eye caught the trail of blood and he followed it to a puddle on the edge of the top part of the well.

  Somebody is in the well, Kermode thought. He winced when he thought of Idellsa or Durst being carried to the well. He fought back tears when he thought of both of them being tossed into the cold water at the bottom of the dark well.