Caledonii: Birth of a Nation. (Part Two; The Druid's Plan.)

by Hall, Ian

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © Ian Hall. Hallanish Publishing at Smashwords Inc..

  All rights reserved, and the author reserves the right to re-produce this book, or parts thereof, in any way whatsoever.

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  Caledonii: Birth of a Nation.

  By Ian Hall

  Part Two: The Druid’s Plan.

  Contents.

  Chapter 5. Kheltine’s Summons. Summer, 74AD.

  Chapter 6. Kat’lana. Summer, 74AD.

  Chapter 7. The Conspiracy. Early winter, 74AD.

  Chapter 8. Calach Begins a Journey, Summer 75AD

  The Story so far…..

  The Romans invaded England in 43AD, colonized for thirty years, and have turned their heads northward. They built two long roads north, ready for invasion.

  The Norlands dhruids tried to unite the separate clans, but the ‘great gather’ broke down due to petty tribal squabbles.

  In secret, the chief’s sons have allied together, determined to unite the clans against the oncoming Roman threat. Calach of the largest clan, Caledonii, and Finlass of the Meatae are the principle conspirators.

  Chapter 5.

  Kheltine’s Summons.

  Summer 74AD.

  As Calach browsed the market, a firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder, almost making him drop the length of leather he was examining.

  By Lugh!

  He squinted smartly into the morning sun to confront the owner of the offending hand. “What do you think you’re doing.....?” He snapped, then curtly bit his tongue as he recognized Sewell, the Caledonii clan dhruid.

  “I want a word.” Sewell took the leather out of Calach’s hand and gave it back to the bemused vendor. “In private!”

  What have I done now?

  Sewell led him to a quieter part of the market and leant forward, almost whispering.

  “Kheltine has asked to see you immediately.”

  “What?” Calach said in bewilderment, turning to face the dhruid.

  “The Arch-druid! You have been summoned to his side.”

  “Me?”

  “No other; he asked for you by name!” Sewell glanced from side to side. “Come on, pull yourself together.”

  Calach’s first emotion had been absolute panic, and he strove to calm himself.

  Kheltine can’t know of our plan for the clans already! Surely not!

  “But, Sewell.” His protest died on his lips as he realized he had nothing he could say.

  “The Arch-dhruid is not the kind of man to be refused.” Sewell began to push Calach towards the centre broch ring. “We leave immediately.”

  Calach stared at the dhruid in disbelief as he shook his head, and made for the gates.

  “Right now?”

  “We ride before the sun moves one more jot in the sky!” Sewell snapped.

  Calach tried his best to use his appearance of confusion to mask his deeper thoughts.

  The plot’s hardly been hatched yet, there’s nothing to hide; nothing for us to be ashamed of and certainly nothing for the dhruids to be angry about.

  As the pair walked briskly towards the broch gates, Calach realized that Sewell was watching him. Aware that his facial expressions could have been giving a lot away since Sewell had accosted him, Calach forced a smile.

  I’m less green than I was ten days ago!

  As they walked, Sewell’s eyes were thin and cold, staring into his.

  Again the possibilities multiply beyond counting; if Sewell knows the reason, he’s disguising the fact well. If he’s as much in the dark about it as I am, it opens up more areas for questions; direct questions.

  “Where are we headed?” Calach asked, keeping his eyes on the tricky muddy footing near the gates.

  “Venicone lands.” Sewell walked into the courtyard. “We will meet Kheltine there.”

  How did the word get here, to Sewell?

  Calach smiled slightly, trying to conceal his epiphany, showing excitement in the prospective journey.

  I’m travelling outside Caledon for the first time in my life!

  “Does Ranald know?” He asked, this time it was Calach’s turn to watch Sewell’s expression.

  “Your parents have been approached, and their permission given. Your presence has been requested by the Arch-dhruid; the senior dhruid in the Norlands. If chief Ranald refused to let you go, it would be seen as a personal insult to Kheltine.”

  So Ranald has no say in this.

  Sewell had placed his hand in the centre of Calach’s back, propelling him quickly towards the family broch. “I would just hurry along and get ready for a long journey.”

  By Lugh! For the first time I’m going to be away from Da’, and directly under the control of the dhruids.

  Calach stopped. Two horses were being brought out into the courtyard, saddles already on their backs.

  “We are waiting on you, Calach.”

  “When did the messenger come in?” Calach looked around, feigning surprise. “I’ve been around here most o’ the morning; I’ve seen no-one.”

  Calach watched as Sewell took a deep breath, impatience beginning to show. “When Kheltine has urgent need, he has no requirement for messengers.” He pushed Calach towards the door. “Go and get your belongings together. Now!”

  The dhruid was clearly flustered; Calach had never seen him so tense.

  By all the Gods I know, and more besides! This is an adventure and no mistake!

  “One last thing. “Sewell’s tone of voice brooked no argument. “Tell no one else of your destination! We ride alone and our destination is known only to ourselves and your parents.”

  Calach was left running up the spiral stairway with his thoughts in turmoil. The more he hypothesized, the more he concluded that they had done nothing wrong yet.

  Sewell had stated quite clearly that no messengers had arrived this morning. Finlass was right; the dhruids could communicate with each other over distances.

  He was determined to find out more.

  ~ ~ ~

  It only took a moment to put some clothes and a sleeping roll together. He tied it tightly and swung the bundle over his shoulder, then looked around for his bow. He fastened the quiver to his waist, on the opposite side from his sword, tucked two dirks into his belt and ran down the steps into the large courtyard of the inner circle. When he walked out into the sunshine again, his mother was there, in conversation with Sewell.

  He watched Mawrin turn and was unnerved by her expression of pain and worry. For all he felt grown up, he knew that his mother still saw him as her little boy. Ranald was nowhere to be seen.

  “Is that you ready, Calach?” His mother came close to him, brushed his long brown hair with her fingers, and fastened his clothes tighter, smoothing away imaginary wrinkles. “It’s not taken you long. Have you got everything? Have you got enough clothes? Have you got something to eat?”

  He endured the palaver for his mother’s sake, knowing that if he complained, he would just offend her.

  She may ju
st be my mother, but she’s also the Matriarch of the clan.

  Stepping closer still, she reached up to him and kissed his cheek.

  “Watch the dhruids!” She whispered gently as she kissed him. “Watch them, for they seek a hold on you!”

  The remark from anyone else would have been brushed off easily, but from his mother, who rarely commented on dhruids at all, Calach took the advice seriously.

  “Mother! I’m only going on a short journey; a couple o’ days at the most.”

  “I know son.” She said, a lump firmly in her throat. “Kheltine’s no’ far away, Sewell’s told me.”

  “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “I know son, I know.” She walked him to the horses, where the two clansmen were securing saddlebags with provisions on either flank. Two goatskins of water were tied together and laid over the front of each saddle. Calach threw his bedroll to one of the men, who tied it behind one of the saddles.

  “Where’s Da?” Calach looked round the courtyard of the inner ring.

  “He’ll wave from the broch as you go.” Then she leaned closer and whispered again, “He didn’t exactly agree wi’ this, but even he wasn’t going to refuse Kheltine. So he’s in one o’ his moods.”

  “No’ again. We were just getting back on speaking terms.”

  “Aye. Remember an’ wave goodbye to him, won’t you!”

  “Aye, mother, I will.” He whispered closely in her ear. “An’ I’ll watch out for the grey-robes, never fear.”

  Sewell had mounted his horse and indicated Calach should do likewise. Calach kissed his mother again and quickly threw himself onto the saddle.

  He immediately felt strange on the horse; its mannerisms were unfamiliar. “Not my normal mount.”

  “We’ll be changing these soon anyway.” Sewell pre-empted any further complaint. With a shout to clear the way, he wheeled his horse’s head round and kicked it on through the gates. Calach urged his horse to follow, soon catching up with the dhruid.

  As Calach rode out of the gate, he saw Ranald on the battlements. He raised his hand in salute.

  Calach swore he saw Ranald nod his head.

  ~ ~ ~

  Sewell kept up a good pace for the rest of the day, saying virtually nothing at all to his young warrior companion. They rode steadily south-eastward, following the natural glen of the Tayme River, which at first flowed south, then south-east through Caledon lands. They made good time by way of well-worn paths which ran down the side of the river, first one side then the other, as the hills on either side dictated. Sewell led the way as they rode along the paths and crossed the shallow parts of the river, but asked Calach’s advice on the best places to ford the faster flowing parts. When they were forced to leave the river banks because of the steep terrain, they were slowed down by the denseness of the trees and the lack of a proper path.

  Each time Calach attempted to make conversation, the dhruid reaffirmed the need for speed and rode on. Each time they came to a Caledon village, when Calach expected to rest, Sewell led them round, avoiding contact with the clanspeople. A few of the villagers stopped what they were doing and waved at the recognized pair, but Sewell resolutely kept the pace, not acknowledging the gestures.

  This is going to be a strange journey and no mistake.

  They soon approached Pettar; the most southerly Caledon village. Although Calach had been there on various occasions, this was the southern limit of his knowledge. From here onwards he was in unknown territory, and he was looking forward to the experience.

  With the last village in sight, and the horses’ tired and needing rest, Sewell slowed down and motioned for Calach to ride at his side.

  “We will change horses here.” The dhruid said abruptly.

  “Aye, there’s not much daylight left.” Calach sighed.

  “I never said that we were going to stop here tonight.” Replied the dhruid dryly, his thoughts obviously elsewhere, “Only that we were going to change horses.”

  “Oh.”

  “And again, Calach.” Sewell continued, “Say nothing of our journey or our destination.”

  “Aye, Sewell, I won’t say a word.” He was determined that if he was not going to say anything, he would learn as much as he could in the exchange.

  As they rode round the low palisade which surrounded the group of small huts, Calach could see Grendal, the village dhruid standing ready at the southern gate with two new horses. When they had dismounted, the three men quickly changed the saddles, exchanging pleasantries as they worked. As they got ready to mount, Sewell turned to face Calach.

  “Give your bow, arrows and sword to Grendal; you will not need them on our journey.”

  “But Sewell!”

  “Enough!” snapped the dhruid. “This part cannot be negotiated. You will give your weapons to Grendal. They will be restored to you on our return.”

  Looking at the dhruid’s stern face, Calach reluctantly did as he was told.

  “The arrows too Calach.” Prompted Grendal. “You can keep your dirks.”

  He handed his bow to the dhruid, followed by his quiver of arrows. It took a few moments to slip the sword and scabbard out of the belt, then replace the short dirks.

  “Come on lad! We have not got all day!” Calach ignored Sewell’s remark, watching the dhruid gather his weapons.

  “Look after them well, dhruid. I paid a lot for that bow, don’t lose it!” After the words were out of his mouth, Calach realized how impudent he had been.

  If Grendal had noticed, he did not show it.

  “They will be kept with my own belongings, Lud.” The dhruid said, tucking the weapons under his arm to carry them back to the settlement.

  Sewell’s face broke out into a huge grin. “It has been a long time since you have had weapons in your hands Grendal!”

  “Let us hope that it is the last time.” The southern dhruid reached into his robe and produced two apples, which he tossed, one to each of the travellers. Calach nodded his thanks.

  “They come from the orchards of the Venicone.” Grendal smiled. “There’s none so sweet in the Norlands.”

  Tucking the apples into their clothing, they both mounted their new mares. As Sewell whispered a few words to Grendal, Calach took the opportunity to open one of the saddlebags and slip some bread and cheese into his tunic beside the apple.

  I might not get the chance to stop and eat the way Sewell’s riding.

  With a single wave between the dhruids, Sewell led the way again. They travelled in single file, quickly skirting the last planted fields of the village, leaving Caledon country, following the trail south usually used for hunting, trading and cattle raiding.

  When they had ridden out of sight of the last Caledon sentries, Sewell called over his shoulder to Calach to ask him again to ride beside him. As he drew his mount level, Sewell threw him a grey bundle. “Put this spare dhruid robe on. From now on you’re my acolyte and anyone we see will be told that story. Hopefully we’ll be left alone by everyone when they see the two figures in grey.”

  “Aye, Sewell.” Calach said, frowning deeply, still angry about the loss of his bow. He didn’t really mind the dispossession of his sword, but he felt that the bow was part of him.

  As if the dhruid knew his thoughts, Sewell looked over at Calach. “Do not hold a grudge against Grendal or me regarding your weapons. You would not have been allowed to carry them where we are going.” The dhruid turned south again. “The dirks are permitted.”

  “At least we’re not totally defenseless, although I’d hate to meet an angry boar armed wi’ only two dirks.” Calach countered, slipping the grey robe over his head.

  “We will not meet any boars where we will be travelling. We are not going to meet Kheltine in Venicone lands.”

  Now it gets interesting.

  “We are going to travel straight through the Venicone nation direct to Tra’pan, in Votadin lands. Kheltine awaits us there.”

  “But that’s deep into flatland..
.............”

  Sewell swung sharply round. “NEVER!” He roared, stopping Calach’s outburst. “Never say that word again! If you are heard ridiculing the local clans like that, even I will not be able to stop you being torn apart, and we will be in their lands soon enough, for even the Venicone lands are flat compared to ours.”

  They rode side by side for a little longer, conversation over.

  Flatlands; Votadin lands. This is getting better and better.

  “I’m sorry Sewell.” Calach offered later, “I didn’t mean to cause any offense, I was just a wee bit unnerved when you said we were going into the southern parts o’ the country.” He left his apology with the dhruid for a moment, then persevered with the conversation as he put on the grey robe.

  “I’ve never been out o’ Caledonii country before, I’ve only once been to the ‘great divide’ an’ that was wi’ Ranald. I was unprepared for the destination, that’s a’.”

  They rode for a while in silence; Calach watched the countryside change as they went. His homeland terrain of never-ending hills and glens gave way to moorland and the occasional rounded peak.

  “Being unprepared is something you cannot afford on this journey. This is your chance to open your eyes and see something of the country, and its inhabitants.” Sewell kept his eyes on the track ahead as he spoke. “This is your chance to grow up!”

  “Aye.” Calach reflected on the dhruid’s words.

  Sometimes they found themselves pushing through thick woods where the thin branched pulled at their robes, then suddenly out in the open again, either skirting fields or crossing the wet, peaty moors.

  “Try and ride with the cowl pulled over your face and your head down, but still keep a lookout for any locals.” said Sewell, “If we come across any; let me do the talking. An acolyte is not supposed to talk to anyone other than dhruids for the first two years of training anyway; we’ll make that your excuse.”

  “Aye, Sewell, the cowl will help disguise my age. I’m a bit old for an acolyte!” Calach’s mischievously glinting eyes were lost on Sewell, who stared impassively ahead.