The Greener Shore

by Morgan Llywelyn

  “It’s starting to rain,” I observed through the open doorway. “Again.”

  Lakutu, who rarely ventured an unsolicited comment, said, “At home the sun always shines.”

  “It rains a lot in Gaul. You’ve forgotten.”

  She responded softly, “I was not talking about Gaul.”

  When I met Grannus outside his lodge he assured me the weather was in our favor. “Rain will intensify the scent, Ainvar.”

  “Not enough to enable me to smell a wolf.”

  “The wolfhounds will do that. I’ve borrowed a dog and a bitch from a friend of mine in the fort. They’re right over there; have a look at them. Wolves often den up in the daytime and we might never see them, but they can’t hide from a hound’s nose.”

  “I’m not certain that’s a good idea, Grannus. Those animals are trained to kill wolves, not capture them.”

  “Don’t worry, I can control them.” Like most strong men, Grannus was full of confidence. “They’re wearing stout collars and I have two leashes of plaited leather. They can’t possibly get away from me.”

  Yet when I looked into the eyes of the great shaggy hounds I was not so sure. They had the same eyes as the wolves we were seeking.

  As we set out for the mountains the morning grew darker rather than lighter. Briga had insisted that I wear her otter fur mantle. “You were ill not so long ago,” she reminded me, “and this garment will turn rain.”

  I was reluctant. Men of every tribe like to pretend they are impervious to weather. But Briga was Briga and so I left the lodge wearing my wife’s mantle—which barely reached my knees.

  Over my shoulder I carried a net fashioned of twisted rope. We hoped it would be strong enough to contain a wolf. The Goban Saor had also fashioned a device consisting of a noose affixed to a long hollow pole, and attached to a leather thong that ran up through the middle of the pole. In theory, we would slip the noose over the wolf’s neck, pull it tight using the thong, and thus incapacitate him while we bundled him into the net.

  In theory.

  Strapped to his back Grannus carried five spears capable of bringing down a wolf if necessary. Two more were thrust through my belt.

  I had invited the Goban Saor to come with us and demonstrate his contraption personally, but he declined. “Wolves are shy creatures, Ainvar. The more people you take with you the less likely you are to find any.”

  “You’re right, of course,” I replied. “It would be a mistake for you to come with us, so stay here and build a pen for our wolf when we bring him back.”

  “I’ll model it on the trap in the deerpits, nothing ever escapes one of those.” The Goban Saor was trying hard not to look relieved. But druids can see with more than their eyes. Our master craftsman was deathly afraid of wolves.

  In Gaul, where wolves abound, it is well known that a wolf will not attack a healthy man. Such stories are used to frighten small children and make them behave, but bear no resemblance to the truth. However, lies have long legs.

  Everyone is afraid of something. In his heart, which I knew better than anyone, Vercingetorix had been terrified of losing. My Briga was afraid of remembering.

  And I was afraid of forgetting.

  By the time Grannus and I reached the foothills the rain was hammering down. The shaggy hounds frequently paused to shake themselves, which only made Grannus wetter. Briga’s cloak gave my head and body welcome protection, while the deepening mud proved the practicality of the Gaelic custom of going barefoot. Shoes would have been an impediment. It is far easier to pull a bare foot out of mud, and if the surface is slippery, bare toes can grip almost like fingers.

  Before long the hounds picked up a scent. Grannus ran with them while I trotted along behind. My illness had left me with a shortness of breath, which I tried to ignore, concentrating instead on watching the wolfhounds. The dog was the color of the clouds above us. The bitch, slightly smaller and narrower through the loins, had a white coat splotched with glossy red. The pair loped along like horses with their heads up, reading the messages the wind brought them. Clearly they knew what they were about. In a land where wolves were plentiful, they were specialists.

  Our path grew steeper, taking us through a stand of pines toward a tumble of granite boulders. If the wolves of Hibernia were anything like the wolves of Gaul, they would have a den in this vicinity. The hounds agreed with me. They halted as if by mutual agreement, with the bitch slightly in the lead.

  She froze. Her whole body seemed to vibrate. Both hounds visibly gathered themselves. “Hold on to them, Grannus!” I cried.

  It is painful to see a man discover that he is not as strong as he thought he was. When the wolfhounds leaped forward in unison they dragged the hapless Grannus after them as if he were a child. The trio sped up the slope. Grannus was shouting commands at the dogs but they ignored him. Instinct spoke to them more strongly than any human voice. For a moment I was lost in admiration as I watched the powerful hindquarters of the hounds gathering, bunching, propelling the animals forward in huge bounds.

  Then I began to run, too.

  All too soon, my throat was aching and my chest hurt. I could not possibly keep up the pace—nor prevent what was sure to happen. Silently cursing my failure to anticipate this, I scrambled up the trail as best I could.

  The name of Eriu crossed my mind. For no particular reason.

  As silently as a cloud forms, a wolf appeared on a ledge above us. A very large wolf, silver gray in color, with black legs and mask. He stood without any sign of fear; without any obvious emotion. His calm yellow eyes took in the approaching hounds, and Grannus, and then looked straight at me.

  The wolf gave me his eyes.

  The world tilted around me, and I knew I was in the presence of great magic.

  There is a unique feel to great magic. A sense of dislocation; an intense focus that precludes any outside awareness. This was the moment I had longed for, yet feared would never come again. This time, however, it was not I who was creating magic.

  It is the wolf.

  I am looking out through his eyes. I am thinking his thoughts.

  I see myself below him, staring upward. Contempt floods through me. Puny two-legged, bad-smelling male creature.

  I am aware of the den hidden far back among the rocks, where my mate lies with her newborn cubs. We have had other litters. Some are still with us, others have gone to join other packs. But my mate and I will be together for life.

  The rest of our pack is watching from concealment nearby. I can summon them with a twitch of my neck. They are subject to my authority. Outsiders may be allowed to join us if they are sufficiently subservient to me, but as the dominant pair, my mate and I are the only ones permitted to breed. The future of the pack depends upon our having and raising cubs. We all join in caring for them.

  Life is good. We eat and sleep and play with one another. When we hunt we take down the old and the weak and leave the strong to breed. On clear nights we throw back our heads and share the ecstasy of singing to the sky.

  Among our number is a formerly dominant male who abused his power. He was attacked by the pack, males and females alike, and defeated but not killed. Instead he was made the lowest of the low. This is not uncommon in the wolf tribe. We allow him to follow the rest of us at a distance and feed from our scraps. If he comes too close the others drive him away. If he cringes and tries to hold his ground, the males urinate on him. The outcast will spend his life on the fringes. He understands and accepts this, knowing that as long as we have food he will not starve. Eventually he will wander away to die alone. Wolves prefer to die alone.

  Today the two-legs have come to kill us. To kill the cubs. I have seen it before. I have seen helpless little ones dragged from their den and clubbed to death.

  This time it will not be allowed. We do not attack two-legs, they are not our prey. But we will attack them now. Our pack has grown large enough to bring its enemies down.

  As the wolf thought these thoughts
, I gave him my eyes.

  He entered my head. He thought my thoughts, becoming aware of my own mates, and of the youngsters I cherished as he cherished his cubs. He learned that I had not come to kill him but to seek his help. For the sake of the Red Wolf.

  Time stopped.

  As part of my training with the Order of the Wise, I had striven to develop an intensity of imaginative will capable of altering natural reality. I had believed that power was unique to druidry; to the chief druid in particular. I was wrong. While the wolf and I looked at each other time stopped, but it was not my doing.

  Man and wolf gazed across an abyss wider than the physical distance between them; wider even than the distance that separated their species. Yet in that moment of magic they were one and the same.

  chapter XIV

  UNTIL I FACED THE WOLF IN THE MOUNTAINS OF HIBERNIA, I HAD thought of animals as…animals.

  They are not. They are spirits who in Thislife inhabit bodies very different from our own.

  I had more in common with the wolf on the ledge above me than with many humans. The beast was loyal and sagacious; a tender father and devoted mate. Unlike the malevolent Caesar, the wolf did not engage in genocide. He killed only to eat and feed his family, as should we all.

  I would break my spears over my knee rather than throw one at the wolf.

  He knew my thought as soon as it entered my head. His eyes remained locked on mine for a heartbeat longer, then he turned and vanished like smoke among the rocks.

  Time started again.

  Grannus was still plunging up the mountainside after the hounds, who were baying now in spite of the constriction of the collars on their throats. My own throat was on fire but I ignored the pain in order to shout, “Kill those dogs if you can’t stop them! The wolves are not to be harmed!”

  Grannus was a man of action, rather than thought, but in an emergency his head worked well enough. Since he could not stop the hounds by pulling back on their leashes, he wrapped the leashes around his arms and threw himself to the ground. In spite of their strength the hounds could not drag his dead weight up the steep incline. They halted in confusion. Grannus sat up, looking equally confused. And extremely muddy. “What do we do now?” he asked when I reached him.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you mean you’ve brought us all this way, Ainvar, and don’t know what to—” His eyes slid past me. His jaw dropped.

  I whirled around. The wolf was standing not a spear’s throw from us, but he was not alone. Beside him stood another male wolf, an animal that was more tan than gray and had a slightly crouched posture. It did not look at us but kept its eyes fixed on the silver wolf.

  Our hounds were going mad.

  “Take them away from here,” I told Grannus.

  “But those are wolves! You don’t want me to leave you alone with two wolves.”

  Locking eyes with the big silver male, I said over my shoulder, “That’s the very thing I do want. Go now, Grannus. Not all the way back; just a little way down the mountain. Wait for me there.”

  “But—”

  “If I need you I’ll shout,” I said firmly.

  Never had I known my old friend to be so close to revolt. However, after a few moments he did as he was told. He was so busy trying to control the hounds and make them go with him that he did not see what happened next.

  As soon as he had gone the silver wolf took another step toward me. The tan wolf stayed where he was, flattening himself until his belly almost touched the ground. Keeping his eyes on mine, the silver wolf came so close I could have stretched out my hand and touched him. I could smell him, a unique scent compounded of clean fur and bloody meat and fragrant pine trees and sheer wildness.

  For one heartbeat I longed to throw off my human form and join him. I could do it. I knew I could. The air between us tingled with the magic of potential.

  With a great effort I recovered my self-control. I could not act for myself alone; I was responsible, as was the silver wolf, for a whole pack.

  He looked from me to the cringing tan wolf and back again. His long, full tail wagged slowly.

  “Yes,” I whispered, not quite sure what I was agreeing to.

  The silver wolf looked at his comrade once more. Still on his belly, the tan wolf crept toward me. He flattened his ears tightly against his skull as he passed the dominant male, but did not stop until he was right at my feet.

  He looked as if he might die on the spot. I have never seen an animal so frightened in my life.

  The silver wolf gave a short, sharp bark, almost like a dog. Then he trotted away and disappeared among the boulders.

  The tan wolf stayed where he was. The poor creature was trembling all over. Slowly, carefully, I removed the belt from my waist. Bending down, I encircled his neck with it, using the extra length as a lead. When I gave a gentle tug he stood up and came with me.

  On our way home I sent Grannus ahead of us. The tan wolf was obedient to me, but I could not be certain he would remain so if the hounds were allowed to get behind him.

  We must have been an odd procession as we approached the lodges. Grannus first, alternately dragging and cajoling two big wolfhounds who were almost insane with rage, having seen all the laws by which they lived overturned. Followed by me, with a fully grown wolf beside me, pressing his shivering body against my leg as if I were his only protection in the world.

  The children saw us coming and started to run forward, but with my free hand I waved them back. “Keep your distance,” I called. “I don’t know what he’ll do if you come too close.”

  They stopped where they were and stood staring.

  I made my way to our lodge, where Briga met me at the doorway. For once her eyes did not light on me with joy. They locked on the wolf with an expression of horror. “You’ve gone mad, Ainvar,” she said in a barely audible voice.

  I was in no mood to argue. “Where’s Keryth?”

  “I’m not sure. What does she have to do with this?”

  “Send Lakutu to look for her.”

  My senior wife backed into the lodge, too frightened to take her eyes from the wolf, and Lakutu took her place at the doorway. She too gave the wolf a long look, but she did not seem frightened. Quite the opposite. “May I touch?” she asked.

  Lakutu is an endless amazement.

  “I don’t know,” I told her. “Hold out your hand and see what he does.”

  She moved forward one tiny step at a time, and held out her hand. The wolf trembled more violently than ever but showed no other reaction.

  My second wife bunched the fingers of her left hand together and brought them toward his nose. “Kss,” she said softly. Then again, “Kss. Kss.”

  The wolf’s ears stirred. Pricked. He stretched his neck and took the tiniest sniff of her fingers.

  Lakutu raised smiling eyes to mine. “Nice,” she said.

  She was reluctant to leave her new friend long enough to fetch Keryth, but like the tan wolf, she was obedient to me. While we waited, the wolf and I sat down outside the lodge. On close inspection I saw that he was an old animal, with worn, broken teeth and a lot of gray hairs around his eyes. He had begun panting heavily and I was beginning to worry about him.

  To give her credit, Briga brought out a bowl of water for the wolf. She set it down a great distance away from us and scurried back into the lodge. I led him over to the bowl and urged him to drink. Vessel and water smelled of humans, however, and he would not touch it.

  When she arrived, Keryth echoed my concerns. By that time most of my clan had gathered to see the wolf—with the exception of the Goban Saor, who had remembered urgent business elsewhere. “Perhaps you should put the animal in that pen the Goban Saor made,” Dian Cet suggested, “and leave him alone for a while. Give him time to calm down.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t explain, but he’s acting under orders and doing his best in what must be, for him, a terrifying situation. I doubt if any of us would have his courage. For his s
ake, the sooner he’s back with the pack the better. So do what you have to do with him now, Keryth.”

  With the seer leading the way, the wolf and I left the vicinity of the lodges. The others started to follow us but I waved them back. “Druid business,” I said sternly.

  That was enough.

  We crossed the patch of stony ground where we customarily went to relieve ourselves, and struck out across the grassland. I saw nothing that might provide an appropriate ritual site but Keryth seemed to know where she was going. Eventually she came to an abrupt halt, just as the hound bitch had halted when she located the wolves.

  “Here,” said Keryth. “Do you not feel it?”

  I did. The humming of the earth beneath my feet. The sense of being held in a bubble. The old wolf felt it, too. He sat down on his haunches and looked up at me with what I can only describe as an expectant expression.

  From the bosom of her gown Keryth produced a worn leather sandal that had belonged to Cormiac Ru. She held it out toward the wolf, but he shrank back against my leg and would not even look at her. “Let me give it to him,” I suggested.

  When I took the sandal into my hand I could almost feel Cormiac’s foot within it. The leather still retained his shape. I slowly lowered it to the wolf.

  He smelled it all over, missing not the tiniest part. I wondered what messages the scent conveyed, but I would never know. The Source gives wondrous gifts to the animals that we humans are not allowed. Do the animals dwell in a richer world than ours? What have we done to be denied such privileges?

  “Ainvar!” Keryth said sharply, calling me back from my druid musings.

  The wolf had finished his minute examination of the sandal. He stood up. For the first time he abandoned his abject posture and I could see the wolf he must have been in his youth. Strong and sure, with a proud, unyielding core…

  “Yes!” Keryth extended her arms until her hands were over the wolf’s head, palm down. This time he did not flinch away. “Touch him,” the seer told me.

  I stooped—I am a tall man—and gently rested my hand on the wolf’s head between the pricked ears. When he accepted it, Keryth took my other hand into one of hers. Then, closing her eyes, she began to hum. As the earth was humming.