Slater (Hengist: People of the Horse Book 4)

by Jacky Gray

  ‘I have seen it from a distance – it is awesome.’ Another of the Durren men agreed, nodding to his friends.

  Smiling at his enthusiasm, she continued. ‘We celebrate the other sabbats in our sun temple, but Litha and Yule are so special, it would be wonderful to have somewhere grand.’

  ‘Well this sounds all very friendly, sharing crops and temples, but who would be in charge of it all?’ The shaman was determined to cause trouble. ‘You can only have one leader and who would decide whether he came from Durren or Kenit?’

  ‘He or she,’ Roldan was quick to add. ‘That’s where Albion’s advice is so useful. He has suggested a short contest to decide who should be in charge overall.’

  ‘Do you mean a battle?’ The shaman looked as though this would not be unwelcome.

  ‘Of course not. A trial between the strongest thegn from each tribe and another one between the best shaman from each tribe.’

  ‘What if a different tribe wins each trial?’

  ‘Then the winner of each match should face each other in a third contest.’ The chief paused, to get everyone’s attention. ‘I am happy to abide by Albion’s ruling on this and Lunella has already given her approval, but we would like to have your support. If you are happy to take part in this union and to have the leader determined by Albion’s trial, please move outside the stones. If you have any concerns or questions, please move inside the stones.’

  After a few seconds, when people looked to their families and friends for support, most of the people in both tribes moved outside the stone crescent. A little over thirty men stood inside, several of whom looked as though they regretted their choice.

  ‘If there is anyone inside the stones who is happy with the idea of the union of the two tribes, please sit down now, so the only people standing should be those who do not wish the tribes to unite.’

  This time there was no pause; all but three men sat, one of these was Talnach, the other two were Kenit. Lunella spoke to them. ‘Diloch, Finlan, you do not wish the two tribes to unite, is that correct?’

  ‘I’m too old to leave my home and make a new start among strangers. I want to stay in Kenit.’

  ‘No one is asking you to leave your home, Diloch. If you do not want to help build the temple at Durren there will be plenty of work at Kenit and your aid and experience would be appreciated there. Of course, you could still visit the new temple if you wanted to.’

  ‘In that case, I should be out there with that lot.’ He left with a little hop which broke some of the tension.

  ‘What about you Finlan, what is your concern?’

  ‘I don’t see why we should share our food and labours with people who have been our enemies for so long. How do we know we can trust them?’

  ‘You don’t have to share anything if you don’t want to, nor work on the temple; it will be a matter of free will. As I said at the meeting before we came here, only volunteers will be needed for the labours, but they will be paid from the extra crops donated by people who feel they can spare them. It is all voluntary, no one will be forced to do or give anything they don’t want to.’

  ‘Come on Finlan, you’re showing yourself to be mean.’

  ‘Don’t forget, whatever you give, you get back threefold. You are due a whole lot of meanness.’

  As the blushing man sat down, so did Talnach, obviously unwilling to stand alone. Some time was spent reassuring the seated men that the trials would be fair and rigorous. Finally, all the concerns were answered and each Durren family went to bring food and drink to share in a huge, noisy picnic which lasted while the sun crossed over the zenith from east to west. Then the area was cleared for the first of the contests.

  28 – The Trials

  Roldan could tell by the expression on Maxoli’s face that he was not happy about the situation, but there was nothing he could do about it. Albion had devised three contests, each having three challenges. The first contest called for the greatest thegn. There was no question that Maxoli was stronger than anyone in either village, but the chief had argued he was the better warrior. Max reluctantly conceded the point, having been bested by Roldan on several occasions due to his superior speed and experience. Lunella had asked for volunteers from her thegns and several had claimed to be the greatest. She settled it by asking each of them who they thought had the greatest chance of besting them in battle and chose the name with the most votes.

  Roldan’s opponent, Darent, was several years younger – a bronzed, muscular man with an eager glint in his eye. Slater was assessing the golden boy’s chances when Maxoli introduced himself as Roldan’s sworn protector, charged with looking after Albion’s envoy for the rest of the day. As they clasped hands, Slater sensed a bond as though they had a shared purpose. The idea of a third mirrored name did not perturb him; this man must be a descendant of the giant he’d known before. There had to be some reason why he was meeting these same characters again.

  Maxoli took him under his wing, discussing the golden boy’s advantages of youth, speed and reckless daring.

  ‘You mark my words, young Slater – the chief has a wealth of experience and lion-hearted courage. I have sparred with him many times, and he’s not above using a cunning trick or two.’

  The three challenges had been designed to compare speed, strength and courage. The first was a straight race of two hundred paces. People from the tribes mingled as they lined both sides of the straight track Slater knew as the cursus.

  A man from each tribe had paced out the required distance. They were standing with flags to denote the end of the race: green for Kenit and red for Durren. Maxoli kept a constant commentary of the chief’s every move, claiming familiarity with his motives.

  ‘I told you he would hang back and let Darent set the pace, it takes less energy. See him catching up now; I hope he hasn’t left it too late – oh. Green flag.’

  But it was the best possible outcome. The Kenit people were delighted to have the first victory, and even as he mourned Roldan’s defeat, Maxoli saw the sense behind it. As the smiling youth passed by, the giant applauded; whispering to Slater that it was all good tactics on the chief’s part.

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘Of course. He could have won that easily, but he chose to let the lad win. Look how confident he looks now, and how happy the Kenits are. Nothing less than a master stroke, really.’

  The next challenge was a straight battle of strength. The men stood either side of a huge tree trunk, balanced on a series of low cradles. A line was marked one pace behind each contender. They weren’t allowed to touch the log until the bell sounded, then each one had to push it until any part of their opponent’s body went over the limit line behind him. Two judges from each village stood at either end of the limit lines and three of the four had to agree which body part had gone over the line for the challenge to be decided.

  The elaborate rules were an attempt to ensure fair play, but there was no discrepancy about the outcome. As the bell sang out its sonorous tone, Darent shoved the log upward, trying to make Roldan lose his balance. A sixth sense alerted the chief to this ploy and he stepped back, digging his left heel into the ground. He bent back into the thrust so the younger man’s momentum carried him further forward than he had bargained for.

  As Darent overbalanced, it did not take much effort to force him backward over the line to the delighted applause of Roldan’s people. Many of the Kenit warriors signalled their displeasure at their champion’s unworthy tactic by joining in with hearty cheers for the Durren chief. Maxoli was overjoyed; it could not have gone better. The score was one all with everything to play for in the final round.

  Slater was worried about what Maxoli had referred to as the death fight, it sounded barbaric.

  ‘You mean they are tethered together like a couple of fighting dogs?’

  ‘Each man’s left hand is bound with strong rope, and they hold their weapon in their right hand.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’

 
‘To make the fighting faster and more intense.’

  ‘Because no one can dodge out of reach.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But why doesn’t one of them just cut through the rope with his sword?’

  ‘First, because that would mean he forfeits the fight, and second, because neither man has a sword.’

  ‘But you said …’

  ‘Yes, in a normal death fight, they would have a sword or a mace, but this is not a grudge match between two sworn enemies where honour is at stake.’

  ‘Surely the honour of the tribes is important.’

  ‘True. But we are trying to encourage peace between the two tribes, and that would not happen if someone died.’

  ‘Obviously not. So what do they use instead?’

  ‘Bolsters.’

  ‘You mean pillows? This is to be settled with a pillow fight?’

  ‘Not quite. The bolsters are filled with sand, not feathers. They are quite firm, but they will not kill, only bruise.’

  ‘How will you know when someone has won? By counting the bruises?’

  ‘The first one to fall off the tree trunk.’

  ‘They do it up in a tree?’

  ‘You are funny. Of course not. On a log. We cannot use the same log they used in the last challenge, as it has to be stripped of all bark and covered in grease to make it harder to stay on.’

  ‘That’s no fun. It will all be over in a second.’

  ‘Not quite. They wear boots with special soles which have been ridged and baked to make them stick better.’

  ‘It all seems a bit strange. I’m sure they’ll both fall straight off.’

  ‘No they won’t. This method is used to train all our young thegns in speed, agility and combat techniques. They would have practised all the time at your age.’

  ‘But that was a long time ago, especially …’

  ‘Hush now, they’re about to start.’

  Slater couldn’t believe it was fair; the younger man would have done it much more recently than Roldan, giving him a big advantage. But he needn’t have worried; the chief had plenty of tricks for dodging the bolster, including ducking, deflecting and even holding on to it. This last trick allowed him to deal the winning blow as Darent lost his balance, putting one foot on the ground.

  The horn blew to announce the end – Durren had won the sporting challenge and the tribe were suitably enthusiastic in their appreciation as Roldan climbed onto a small dais used for sport. The reception from the Kenit tribe was understandably cooler and the chief wasted no time in announcing the return to the temple for the shaman contest.

  There were again three challenges; the first one involved their ability to detect spirit lines. Slater was confused. ‘Why do they have to be blindfolded? I thought the shamen saw the lines but most people cannot.’

  ‘Because Talnach already knows where all the lines are around here – this is his territory and it would give him an unfair advantage.’

  ‘I see.’ He watched as the shaman and Lunella were led to a point marked with a large cross. A woman from each tribe spun them round for three full circles.

  ‘That spot is the same distance from two crossing spirit lines, so they both have the same chance of finding one. If they go to the crossing point, their power isn’t as good, as it’s the easiest place to find.’

  ‘But the water line is not as strong as the other one, so if they find that, their power is better.’

  Even before he finished speaking, Lunella had neatly sidestepped Talnach who was sniffing the air and making extravagant gestures. Moving as silently as a wraith, she reached the water line and stood astride it, breathing in deeply until it began to glow a soft blue. Several moments later, the shaman walked straight over to the crossing point and shouted his victory. ‘It is here; the line is here.’

  ‘First round to Kenit: Lunella found the weaker water line long before Talnach found the crossing point.’

  Everyone turned at the air of authority and the voice’s owner bowed low, his white beard touching the ground.

  ‘Albion, you got here in time.’ Roldan seemed pleased, greeting him as a favourite uncle.

  ‘I have journeyed day and night since getting Lunella’s message. Well done my dear; you won that fair and true.’

  Slater stared at the tall, wizened fellow. Everything about him was familiar: his voice, his walk and the way he wrinkled his nose at the end of a laugh. To Slater’s knowledge, they had never met, but it was as though he had known him all his life.

  Having greeted the two tribal leaders, the legendary shaman seemed to be searching the crowds for someone. His roving eye stopped at Slater. After a brief nod, Albion continued on to acknowledge Talnach with a bow that was somehow complimentary and mocking at the same time.

  Slater was sure by the look on his face that the evil little man had been about to protest, but Albion’s presence made him reconsider. He was obviously in awe of such a celebrity. There was much movement and jostling as the presence of the great man spread through the crowds and people came closer to get a look. The general hubbub came to an abrupt halt as he turned to the crowd to explain the details of the second challenge.

  ‘One of the most important tasks for a shaman is to heal, and although this is very difficult to compare, this trial manages to demonstrate the ability quite well.’ He looked around at the attentive faces. ‘I thought long and hard about making it as impartial as possible and decided the subject should be neither Kenit nor Durren to make it fair.’

  Many people nodded their agreement and he continued. ‘Since I am the only person who is from neither tribe, it means both shamen will practice their healing on me. Unfortunately it means I may not be able to judge the outcome, depending on how quickly they can heal me …’

  ‘That’s not true sire.’ Slater spoke up. ‘I am from neither tribe; they could practise on me.’

  ‘Ah, the boy. I had forgotten about you. I’m afraid the challenge may involve some pain for the subject; I couldn’t possibly expect you to suffer. I will do it.’

  Some impulse forced Slater to approach the dais and Roldan pulled him up. ‘It makes more sense for the boy to do it; then, you can be in charge if something goes wrong.’

  ‘Are you in accord Lunella?’

  ‘As long as it is safe for him. I would prefer to know what he had to do before agreeing.’

  ‘That would be tricky. The idea is that you are presented with a situation requiring healing with no prior knowledge so you have no time to prepare. Then the situation is checked every few minutes to see whose healing cure is quickest and lasts longest. Will you trust that I would not endanger him in any way?’

  ‘Of course, but …’

  ‘Always there is a but with you. Would you be satisfied if Roldan and your chosen representative are content?’

  ‘Yes, that would make me happier. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but your idea of acceptable pain is probably very different to the rest of us, especially for a boy.’

  ‘Who do you nominate then?’

  ‘Darent will speak for Kenit. I think Slater should know as well before he agrees.’

  ‘A good idea. If you three would come with me …’

  A few moments later, Slater was sitting on a chair with his eyes covered in a blindfold. Albion insisted it would help with the pain as he quietly chanted an incantation to bring relaxation. Both shamen wore blindfolds, which would be released once the wounds were inflicted. Darent and Roldan stood on either side of Slater, holding small devices which had been carefully prepared and purified. At the sign, they both used the devices as they had been shown and blood began to run slowly down Slater’s arms.

  29 – The Power of Thought

  This time, when Lunella won, Talnach protested quite vociferously that she had cheated.

  Albion was resolute. ‘Did she stop the bleeding?’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘Did she stop it before you did?’

  ‘Yes, but �
�’

  ‘Was it bleeding at the end of the trial?’

  ‘No, but …’

  ‘Then I think she fulfilled all the trial criteria.’

  ‘But she used a trick. She did not use any potions or poultices and I’m sure if you take the bandage away, his arm would start bleeding again.’

  ‘You are just angry because she proved herself better than you twice so you are out of the contest.’ Roldan was not impressed with the shaman’s poor attitude. ‘If this was a battle wound, we would need the quickest and most effective way to stop the bleeding and get him back out on the battlefield again. Lunella’s bandage is the best.’

  ‘But it’s not proper healing.’ Talnach was angry.

  ‘I agree with Roldan.’ Albion’s tone was calming. ‘Lunella’s method worked well and was quite ingenious.’

  ‘May I say something?’

  ‘Of course, Lunella.’

  ‘I am happy to consider it a draw and move on to the final challenge.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you, but there’s no need, its quite clear that you won both …’

  ‘Actually Albion, I think it would show a good example to both tribes that we are trying to be as fair as possible. I cannot think anyone would complain.’ Roldan turned to the crowd, looking for anyone with an objection, but there were none. ‘I think we have an answer.’

  As he turned away, a hand raised up in the crowd and Albion gestured for the woman to speak. ‘Is the boy Slater recovered from his wounds or will he need some care?’

  ‘Thank you my good woman, it would be very useful if you could bring some healing water and clean him up while we arrange the trial.’

  Slater didn’t want to miss anything, so he was pleased when the woman attended to him by the side of the dais. She dipped clean strips of cloth in a jar of water as Albion explained the final challenge was to perform a piece of sorcery which would be of great benefit to the tribe. The two shamen were allowed five minutes to prepare themselves. Then Albion produced a small disc of bone carved with a dove on one side and a raven on the other. Lunella called dove and when the shaman threw the disc in the air, it landed on the white dove and she chose to go last.