The next thing that Rronish remembered was being gently woken up.
“How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for a whole day, and it’s now the next morning. My name is Raulen - you do look a lot better than the last time we met.”
A small, pretty blonde girl was sitting on a chair beside the bed holding a tray of food.
“Have we met before? I can’t remember ever meeting you.”
“Don’t worry about that now. I’ve brought you some hot pot-mash and milk, and after you’ve eaten we’d like you to join us outside in the hot spring. You’ll then begin to feel a lot better.”
Nylen got up from her couch and walked across the stone floor of her house to the window, looking down the hill.
“Ah, your friend is now awake and resting with my daughters in the spring. The waters will soon wash the terrors away from the back of her mind and she should start to feel better. We’ll do what we can to help her. Tomorrow I’ll ask Rocinne to teach her some knife skills, and Raulen will give her some more suitable clothing.”
Sirarch leaned back on the couch he was lounging in.
“When I first met her, I thought she was just a person who was in some difficulties and it would be a simple matter to help her by taking her back to her tribe. Now I find out that the gods are involved in changing her future and presumably planning my future as well! Nylen, do you know which gods are involved in our futures and can you see what part Rronish is going to have to play in this pattern?”
The priestess turned and stared into the fire, looking deep into the flames, and then flicked some incense into the fire so that it began to flare.
“I believe that the gods involved are Dana, Lugh, and Taranis. What these gods are planning to do is not being revealed to me. And the future that Rronish has to change is unclear. The future is mainly hidden and has no permanence here, yet only by our actions in the present time, as the choices appear, can we then make it happen. The gods are going to put her in a position where she can be of the most service to them.”
“Should we tell her that she has a task of great importance to complete?” asked Sirarch.
“Definitely not!” said Nylen, turning her face from the fire to look at Sirarch. “The gods will see to it that she has the opportunity to carry out whatever task it is they require of her. We are fortunate. Today it is the eve day of a new goddess, a most opportune time. Tonight I shall perform a ceremony and petition the goddess to give Rronish the gifts of the hunter, and to guide and protect her on her journey. I think that with the goddess’s gifts and protection, and with a little care from ourselves, the girl’s path in this matter should be made smoother - and the gods’ work will be helped.”
It was five days after their arrival and early morning as Sirarch walked down the hill to see Rronish. She was sitting on the step of the roundhouse where she was staying.
“Well, we’ve been here for five days. Now, tell me how you think your lessons are coming along.”
“I seem to be able to learn very quickly here,” said Rronish. “Rocinne has been coaching me on how to use a bow and arrow. She’s also been giving me lessons with the two long fighting knives. I think my father will be proud of me!
“Do you like the clothes Raulen has given me? I think they look very smart. I’m not used to trousers, but they’re more practical for travelling in than my old clothes, and these boots are so different to what I’m used to.” But then a frown crossed her face. “Sirarch, why is everybody being so nice to me here? I’m just not used to that, people aren’t normally like this with me. What’s their reason for helping me?”
“Oh, you have so many questions,” smiled Sirarch. “Firstly, I do like your clothes. I’m also very pleased that you’re learning so many new skills quickly, as they might become important for your future. Now, regarding why people are so nice here... well, these are not ordinary people. Nylen and her daughters serve the goddess directly and the other high gods in all their actions. In everything they do, they are trying to make the world a better place by guiding events and people’s lives according to the wishes of the gods.
“Now Rronish, I’ve come to tell you that it’s time we continued our journey. So we’ll be leaving here tonight as soon as the lady begins to rise.”
Rronish stood up to face Sirarch, brushing the hair from her shoulders.
“I would like to speak to Nylen again soon. She’s so strong.”
“Yes, Nylen has asked me to send you to her. She also wants to speak to you, regarding the possible events that could lie in your future. It’s time for you to go up to the main hut where she’s waiting to see you.”
A cold chill ran down Rronish’s spine as she heard those words.
“Should I go right away?”
“Yes, she’s waiting for you now.”
Nylen was sitting quietly looking into the fire, watching Rronish’s image walk up the hill to the roundhouse, as she heard a knock on the door.
“Come in Rronish, I’ve been expecting you. Please close the door after you.”
As Rronish entered the large roundhouse, the white walls were reflecting the bright midday sunlight streaming through the windows. Strangely, although there was a fire alight in the central hearth, the room felt chilled and the air had a sense of sharpness to it. Rronish slowly closed the oak door behind her and looked at the priestess who was sitting on a long couch.
“Rronish, please child, come and sit down here next to me.”
“Thank you. What are you going to do, Nylen?”
“I’m going to do a path-working for you. In this I can show you three important parts of your future. If you look at the marble design in the floor in front of you, you’ll notice that the centre section is a highly polished black mirror. This is where you’ll experience three warnings of different futures for yourself. But you must use the information gained here carefully, because every decision you take can change your destiny for good or ill.”
Rronish gasped as she saw the beautiful large design in the floor that lay in front of her. The black polished mirror was set in the centre of a large white five-pointed star, and the five points of the star linked to the inside of a large white circle. Inside the circle to the left of the mirror stood an altar that had upon it several items: an athame, a wand with a silver crescent on the tip of it, a silver chalice of water, an incense burner, five candles coloured yellow, green, red, blue and purple, and a miniature cauldron.
“What do I have to do?” asked Rronish nervously. Nylen smiled.
“All you have to do is kneel down inside the circle and relax. Place your hands on the frame of the mirror and just gently gaze into its centre. Then tell me when you feel ready.”
As Rronish knelt down, placing her hands on the edges of the black marble mirror, she gasped as her hands touched its icy coldness. She could sense its power. She ran her fingers around the engravings on the edge, depicting many Celtic gods and mythical beasts.
“I feel that I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be, Nylen.”
Nylen then carefully stood up from the couch and entered the circle. She lit the blue rising sun candle, and as she came to each candle she lit them in turn, invoking her deities and the elements. She lit the purple candle last, as this one represented Rronish. With her right hand she took the black-hilted athame from the table and directed it at the edge of the circle. Then slowly and deliberately she turned in a circle from the blue rising sun candle, raising a wall of shimmering white light completely around them. With this completed, the circle was sealed with power. The area around them was now lit up in a wall of shimmering white light. Placing the athame gently back onto the table, Nylen respectfully began to light the incense and to invoke the benevolence of the goddess.
As Rronish smelled the sweet scent of the burning incense, the marble mirror turned to water and then the flo
or began to turn into mist and she was falling...
She felt a jolt as she hit the ground. She looked around her. She was now in a narrow alleyway between two shops. She stepped out into the main road where she could see Sirarch.
“Where are we?” she asked him.
“We are in Camulodunon, but you already know that. And my friend’s house is not far from here. Now, don’t dawdle and try and keep up.”
As they set off again, Rronish could hear the tapping of a walking stick on the stones of the road. She glanced around and saw that it belonged to an old lady who had stopped and was now talking to a group of the town guard. The guards looked over at them and started to move towards them. Rronish found the scene around her becoming hazy and she felt herself falling and someone whispering to her, “You must remember this”. Now she found herself hiding in some bushes overlooking a river crossing with a small village on the riverbank.
“Quiet,” said Sirarch. “Where have you been? You must keep up with me, this is serious. We have to travel through this village, it controls the only crossing over the river for a long way around here. We must do this while it’s still dark and before the people wake up. The people in this village practise slavery as their trade, and it’s not a place to delay in. Now follow me quietly.”
They stepped out of the cover of the woods and onto a track way that led into the village quickly making their way into the centre. Nothing was stirring, it was starting to get late and a little dark. Sirarch was leading the way forward, and as they neared the other side of the village the streets began to narrow.
“Sirarch look, there’s a group of mounted men and some of them are carrying torches,” whispered Rronish.
“They’ve seen us,” Sirarch answered. “Quickly, run! We’ll go down that side street.” As they ran, the sounds of men shouting and the horses’ hooves in the street could be heard getting nearer to them. They ran around a corner and into a street, which became a dead end. Rronish found herself falling and heard the words “Try and remember” whispered in her ear.
Again she felt her world move around her. Now she was kneeling on the ground with several dead men lying on the grass around her and Sirarch was standing in front readying himself to fight. She looked up at him and watched as from out of a morning mist screaming could be heard, and four men with blue painted faces rushed towards them. One without pausing threw a spear, striking Sirarch in the chest, killing him. Rronish suddenly felt sickness and fear, and then heard a voice calling her as if coming from a very great distance.
A hand gently shook her shoulder. She looked up at Nylen who smiled at her. Sirarch and Nylen’s daughters had also entered and were watching her quietly.
“You’re quite safe,” said Nylen. “Try to remember as much as possible. When you face your difficulties on your journey, remember it’s very important that you always trust your instincts. Now, sit up on the couch while I make you some tea.”
Rronish was beginning to feel safe again when she glanced at the floor, to look at the mirror. But there was now no sign of it. The entire floor was made of just plain grey stones. Nylen smiled at her.
“We’re sorry to see you leave. My daughters and I have become quite fond of you, and you’ve become a good student. But you must go now before winter puts her hand too heavily upon the land. The year is coming to an end and you have a long way to go.”
Rronish looked puzzled.
“But leaf falling has only just begun, and we haven’t been here that long - only just a week?”
“The ebb and flow of the tides of time are different in this land to the land you come from. That’s the reason you seemed to be able to learn quickly here.” She turned to Sirarch and continued, “I have a gift to aid the two of you on your journey. It’s a small leather pouch here - fifteen gold staters for each of you.”
“That’s very generous, thank you,” said Sirarch. “If there is any left over after the journey, we’ll dedicate it to a shrine of the goddess.”
“Perhaps my father could build a shrine to the goddess in his lands,” said Rronish.
“That’s a lovely idea, Rronish,” said Rocinne. “We will of course visit your tribe one day.”
“Now, our lady is starting to rise,” said Nylen, “and it’s best that you are on your way. I don’t want any long farewells, as I’m sure we shall be meeting again. Travel safely, and may your gods travel with you.”
The Return
It is best to hope - but prepare for a dark future.
The day was beginning to turn to dusk, and Mestrathax could see small pockets of mist starting to collect in the hollows of the low-lying land. He leaned forward to whisper in the ear of the grey mare he was riding, and she galloped up the hill past the long line of tired Celtic warriors. Clods of earth were being kicked up into the air by his horse’s hooves and mud was splashing some of the warriors. Some of them whom he knew by name called out to him as he rode past. He waved back, shouting encouragement to each of them. Looking over his shoulder to make sure that Rianna was behind him, he called out to her.
“Follow me up to the top of this hill so that we can see what’s happening.”
Rianna smiled back at him as she encouraged her horse, gently kicking him in the flanks with her heels so she could follow Mestrathax. As they arrived at the top of the hill, a nervous voice shouted from underneath the cover of a group of trees.
“Arch Druid, could you come over here? I am one of Chief Cestrathax’s aides and I’ve been sent by him to find you and take you to him. Could you please follow me? My chief is waiting over there for you by the fire.”
Mestrathax and Rianna rode over to where an agitated aide was waiting to hold their horses, and after dismounting they walked over to the fire where Cestrathax was standing with a small contingent of his dedicated bodyguard. The firelight was playing with the shadows and the strain was showing in their faces just how tired they all really were.
“Mestrathax, come over here and rest for a moment. Here, help yourself to food and wine. I’ve told the tribe to make camp just over the brow of this hill in a large hollow by that stream. If we can keep all our fires shielded by the hollow and the fires glimmer below the skyline, the camp might not be seen from too far away. Then it should only be one more day’s fast march until we’re home.”
Campfires were springing alight in the valley below as smells of cooking mixed with the sounds of laughter and relief which were blowing upwards towards them on the wind.
“Our people believe that we’ve won the war, but we’ve only won one battle and the outcome of the war is undecided. As always, it’s in the hands of the gods.”
The druid attracted Cestrathax’s attention and pointed into the sky as the lady slipped behind the clouds, making the night a little darker.
“Look at the lady, she is blood-red and her light keeps being hidden by the clouds. It’s an omen that portends more savage struggle and the loss of leadership.”
“I thank you for the portent, Mestrathax, but I cannot tell them that now - it would demoralise them. On our return, I shall organise a feast of celebration including a challenge of mock fighting and oratory, and then they’ll be better prepared to do more. To finish this war I’ll join forces with the Iceni and we’ll wipe every last Roman from this land. Now, you must excuse me, I’ve got to send out patrols to check the way ahead is clear of Roman sympathisers and spies.
“With the will of the gods, Gwydion should be returning in two to three days with some prisoners, and then we’ll be able to learn a great deal more about what’s been happening.”
In the Roman camp it was raining and the evening had now passed into night as flickering shadows from the oil lamps and smoke from the fire in the brazier blew around the inside of the leather tent. The Camp Prefect was busy writing a report for the Governor General, his stylus scratching into a wax tablet
, when a sudden commotion among the guards was heard outside.
“You must take me to the Governor General immediately. I’ve brought urgent information for him!” The guard was heard telling him to wait.
“Sir, I have a centurion outside demanding to see the Governor General,” reported the legionary guard.
“I heard him. I’ll see him. March him in here.”
The guards marched the now silent visitor into the tent and stood him before the Camp Prefect who leaned back in his chair and studied this new visitor. He glowered at the centurion who was covered in a layer of grime and sweat from his long journey.
“I shall decide whether or not you see anybody. Who are you, and what sort of business could you possibly have with the Governor General?”
“My name is Tiberius Septimus Marcus. My rank is centurion and I have brought with me one turnae of cavalry as replacements from Rome. We are now reporting to the Fourteenth Augusta Gemina Legion for duty, sir.”
“You are reporting here for duty?” shouted the Camp Prefect. “Who do you think you are? You don’t need to see the Governor General for that. You demand to see the Governor General? I don’t care which rich family you crawled here from. I can easily strip that title of centurion from your shoulders.”
“Sir, I greatly beg your pardon,” replied Tiberius. “I have not explained myself properly. But I am carrying urgent dispatches directly from Emperor Nero Claudius Augustus Germanicus. They are for the Governor General, Caius Seutonius Paulinus, to be delivered only to his own hand, sir.
“And there is another matter, sir. I also have urgent information for you. Two days’ journey away from here I came upon one of our units that had been massacred. It appears that a large force of Celtic cavalry and chariots overran them.”
The Camp Prefect calmly looked up from the desk and leaned back in his chair.
Pathways of the Druids Page 5
