Pathways of the Druids

by Christopher J. Pine

  “Rronish, the town you see in the valley below is Camulodunon. At a steady stroll we should be there before Belenus is raised too far above us. But first I’ll have to check and see if there are any messages left for me.”

  “We’re out here in the middle of nowhere,” she laughed. “How would anybody manage to leave a message for you?”

  “Oh, there are many secret ways to pass messages and warn friends of trouble ahead. Now, just follow me.”

  He strode a little way off the track into the forest where they came to an old birch tree. He stood by its trunk then turned around and walked a few steps away from the roots of the tree. There he knelt down, feeling the ground with his hand.

  “Ah, here it is.”

  He lifted up some tufts of grass and earth, and Rronish could then see the top of a buried clay pot. Sirarch uncorked the pot, tipping the contents into his hand. He held his hand towards her, showing what had been left for him.

  “Do you see? There are four pebbles, which means that it’s reasonably safe for us to travel into the town.”

  Lugh peered around the corner, then looked down the narrow street at the front of the small store that sold pelts on the outskirts of Camulodunon. He smiled and chuckled to himself.

  “What are you doing, man? Why aren’t you up yet? It’s very important that I have the use of your store this morning. I’ve chosen you to play an important part in a much greater game.”

  Ffej heard someone hammering on the front door of his shop. The sound was slowly travelling around the inside of his head, through his hangover. As he tried to wake up, he opened his eyes slowly and stumbled out of bed muttering to himself.

  “Ooh, my head. I’d better open the store. That noise could be those dwarves Regor and Nohj collecting the pelts they asked for. I hope they’ve brought those barrels of core juice with them. All I remember of last night is being at the inn... Still, it’s well known that a little drink is good for your health.”

  Bleary-eyed, he stood up and looked for his clothes which were strewn all over the floor. Ffej reached down and picked up his woollen trousers, pulling them up over one leg and calling out.

  “Hold on there, I’m coming.”

  He staggered towards the doorway of his bedroom to go downstairs and answer the loud knocking on his front door. Then he tripped, falling over a chair that had somehow been placed across the doorway. As he lay stunned on the floor, looking up at the spinning ceiling, Lugh ran over to him and sprinkled some dust over his face.

  “Sleep now, man, and when you awake you will not remember anything of me at all. Only how much you drank last night and how very clumsy you’ve become. And you will not want to drink so much in future.”

  Ffej drifted off into a deep, warm sleep. Lugh chuckled to himself as he put two bronze bars on the small table beside the bed. Then he carefully stepped over Ffej, lying on the floor and snoring gently, and went downstairs.

  “Now, where’s your kitchen? To me you look like a very generous man and as I’m quite hungry I think I deserve a decent meal for all my planning and hard work.”

  He arrived at the bottom of the stairs and went through into the front of the shop. There he paused for a moment, stopping to take a package from a black oilskin knapsack that he had left there earlier. He chuckled quietly to himself as he placed the package on a shelf just under the shop counter.

  Rronish and Sirarch were waiting outside the east gate for the town gates to open. They mingled with a caravan of travelling dwarf players. Though the town walls were made of compacted earth, the gatehouse had been strongly built out of rough, dressed stonework. The wooden palisade passed directly over the top of the gatehouse. The place smelled damp from the moss growing on some of the woodwork.

  Now muffled loud knocks and cursing could be heard coming from the inside as the two large wooden doors were being unbarred. There was a large carving of a prancing horse on the doors, which split apart as they were slowly opened to reveal the main entrance to the town and a ragged squad of guards. They had no clean uniforms, armour or swords, but were all dressed in grey smocks that had seen better days. One of the guards had a large black dog on a chain, the rest of them were armed only with short black wooden cudgels lodged in their belts.

  “The town centre is down there,” one guard said gruffly. “Just keep going straight ahead.” As he moved to one side and waved the carts through, Sirarch motioned to Rronish to follow closely behind the second cart.

  “We’ll just let the guards think we’re attached to these travelling players,” he whispered.

  The driver of the lead caravan gave his horses a gentle shake of the reins. The horses started to pull the lead caravan of the travelling players, and then the queue started moving slowly through the gateway. There was no need to worry, as some guards were busy tying the large gates back and others were directing the traffic and collecting the toll charges from traffic that was leaving the town. Several street beggars appeared from inside the town and started to pester the small queue that was filtering through the gates. One of the guards shouted at a small boy.

  “Get orf out of it, or I’ll take ya, and don’t ya come back!” The boy laughed at the guard, then quickly turned and ran back into the town.

  “Why are we hiding, Sirarch?” asked Rronish. “Is anybody looking for you?”

  “I’m not aware of anybody looking for us. But this is a slave owner’s town so it’s always best to tread softly while we’re passing. Luckily I have some good friends here, so we should be quite safe.”

  Rronish pointed to a shop where an old grey pelt had been nailed above the doorway.

  “Look Sirarch, over there. In the middle of that row of shops. There’s one selling pelts, so they might also have some hats.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Go and have a look. I don’t really like hanging around in trades, I much prefer the feeling of freedom in wide-open spaces. Look, here are five bronze bars. That should easily be enough for you to buy a hat. I’m going to scout around this part of the town but I’ll be back for you in a short while. Once you’ve finished, just wait for me in the doorway of the shop. I won’t be far away.”

  Rronish watched as he strolled off along the side street. It was still early and most of the shops were closed. But as she arrived outside the pelt shop, Rronish found the door half open. She pushed at the oak door which then creaked a little before it began to open fully. She could smell the strong, dusky aroma of the fur skins that were stacked along the walls. Inside, there was a pile of hats on view at the end of the counter.

  Suddenly, a small white cat hissed at her as it ran over her leather boots and out into the street, making her take a step back.

  “Hello, is anybody there?” she called out as she walked into the shop.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” answered a voice, coming from behind a wooden counter covered in pelts. A very short man of slight build appeared, his head and shoulders barely reaching the top of the counter. With his left hand he was carrying a round, black wooden tray, with some bread and various sweet-smelling cheeses on it.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you there,” Rronish apologised. She looked over the counter, then down at the little man, who was wearing black trousers and a green tunic. He had black wavy hair, blue eyes and a short grey beard.

  “Oh, that’s all right,” said Lugh, “we don’t grow very big in our family, and when we turn up we always manage to surprise people. Ah! I see that you must be from out of town... I was just about to have a morning snack. There seems to be plenty here. Would you like to join me? Here, take a slice of cheese.” Lugh offered her the tray of food.

  “No, thank you, I’m not very hungry. I’m only really interested in buying a warm hat for the winter,” replied Rronish, now quite wary of any stranger who offered her food.

  “Are you new to t
his area? I haven’t seen you here before.”

  “You’re right, this is my first time in Camulodunon, just passing through. The weather is starting to turn a snap colder, and I’m going to need a warm hat. So do you have any for trade?”

  “Yes, of course we do, we have a large variety of hats. I’m sure we’ll have some you like.” He indicated the pile at the end of the counter. “Please, try one on, and if you don’t like these I have several more I can show you. I’m sure I’ll be able to find a hat for a pretty girl like yourself that will easily suit you. And if you look behind you, there’s a copper mirror hanging on the back of the door.”

  As Rronish turned round to shut the door, to see where the mirror was, Lugh reached for a light brown beaver fur hat that was on a shelf at the back of the shop. As he picked it up he quickly flicked some dust from a pouch at his waist onto the inside rim of the hat before he offered it to her. Rronish took the hat from Lugh and was trying it on when he looked across to her and said, “No, I don’t think that’s the right one for you - the style and colour are all wrong. Let me think now, there must be something else... I must have something else. I know, I know! Where is it, yes, where did I put it? I’ve just received a new delivery, yes. There might well be something far more suitable for you in that.” He reached underneath the counter, producing the package that he’d put there earlier. Now he placed this gently onto the shop counter. “Now, let’s see what they’ve sent me...” He slowly untied the leather wrappings and carefully displayed the contents on the polished wooden counter. Inside the package was a pair of luxurious jet-black fur hats - and a sword.

  “That does look quite nice,” said Rronish, picking up one of the black fur hats. She carefully tried it on, smiling at her own reflection in the mirror.

  “Girl,” said Lugh, “that fits you so well it could have been made for you.”

  “I do like this one, it fits well and it feels very warm. Yes, I’d like to buy this one. And if the other hat is a larger size, I’ll take that as well for my friend, I’m sure he’ll like it.” Then she noticed the sword lying on the counter. It seemed to draw her to itself.

  “Would you mind if I had a closer look at that? It does look beautiful, and these are dangerous times. I only have a small knife, so I might need a good sword.” The sword was in a black leather scabbard; a fine strip of silver ran around the edge of the scabbard and the leather was engraved with a swirling intricate design. She didn’t notice the small amount of fine dust on the grip of the sword.

  “My family specialise in these swords,” smiled Lugh. “We don’t make many of them as the blade has to be specially forged with the strength of a dragon. If you look closely, you can tell that by looking carefully at the engraving on the blade. It’s a very difficult thing to do, dragons are so unpredictable. They can be friendly and chatting to you one moment, and next they might start to think of you as dinner. The trick is to keep them amused while the work’s being done. But that’s dragons for you - they’re fickle creatures by nature. But my family makes them more as an art than a business. This sword has been made to protect you from many things. Please, do pick it up. If you do, you won’t want to leave the shop without it!”

  Rronish smiled at the story of the dragon, and picking up the sword she slowly unsheathed it from its scabbard. The metal of the blade felt strangely alive and warm to the touch. Its weight and balance were perfect. The grip fitted snugly into her hand, and the sword felt light-weight but heavy enough to fight with. There was a design inlaid in silver on the blade, a picture of a small prancing dragon. On the top of the pommel there was a seated figure of a little man. Strangely, Rronish felt a nagging need for this sword, and didn’t want to leave the shop without it. It already felt like it had become part of her.

  “I really do like this. Could you give me your best price for the sword?”

  “The lowest price I can let you have the sword for is seven gold staters. I know you’ll agree it’s a very fair price.”

  “Is that the best that you can do?” frowned Rronish. “It seems a lot of gold. I might have to leave it.”

  Lugh put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor, then looked her straight in the eyes and gently hypnotised her.

  “You’re a very nice girl and because I like you I’ll throw in those two hats as well. Yes, that would be seven gold staters. The price really isn’t important to you. You know you’ll never find another sword of such magnificence as this one - and you do want it...”

  “Oh yes, the sword is beautiful,” said Rronish without thinking. “I’m sure it’s a fair price. I’ll take the sword and both hats. Could you please wrap them all back up for me?”

  As she left the shop she found Sirarch already waiting outside for her, standing in the shadow of the building, looking bored and leaning against the wall of a nearby store.

  “Did you find a hat you liked?” he asked.

  “Oh yes, a lovely fur hat, I’ll show you when we get to your friend’s house.”

  She smiled to herself as she picked up her pack and swung it up onto her back. Suddenly, some waste water was thrown down into the street from an upstairs window. Rronish looked up to see the face of an elderly woman with white hair and a toothless grin. She drew back quickly from the window that overlooked the main gateway.

  “You two people look a bit out of place,” the old woman remarked to herself. “I think I’ll keep an eye on you, just to see where you’re staying. The head of the town guard always pays well for pointing out suspicious characters to him.” Quickly, she shut the window and headed downstairs to get her shawl and walking stick. She was overweight and slow, but soon she could be heard going down the street by the click of her walking stick as it scraped over the stones.

  The streets were beginning to get busy now with the sound of the early morning traffic of carts rumbling along. A pair of donkeys pulled each one, and many people were just scurrying around the winding streets intent on their own business.

  “I’ve never been in a town as large as this before,” said Rronish, “or seen so many people of different tribes close together. Are we near the town centre yet?”

  “Not quite, this is the trading quarter, we have a way further to go yet. It’s still early and the streets aren’t really busy yet. Now, if you look to your left at that large grey stone building, do you see the one that’s ringed by a high wooden fence?”

  “Yes, is that the one you mean?”

  “Yes. I don’t want to frighten you, but that’s the slave-dealing exchange, where you won’t be going.”

  “Sirarch, I do trust you. But listen, I must tell you that earlier I heard the tapping of a walking stick on the cobbles, and when I looked around I saw an old woman back there. I’d noticed her earlier too, when we were outside that pelt shop. Sirarch, she reminds me of one of the warnings from Nylen - I’m sure the woman’s following us.”

  “It’s possible. And we can’t take the chance that she isn’t. You should always listen and act on your instinct. Right. If we’re going to lose her, it’s best done quickly in a large crowd. What we’ll have to do is enter and cut through the slave auction market. Follow me.”

  They set off at a fast walking pace and passed through the gate area into the slave market. Sirarch turned and threw a handful of low value bronze rings onto the wet street just outside the gateway. Several beggars were sitting there and they quickly began fighting each other over the rings, the fight now blocking the narrow entrance to the slave market.

  “That should delay anyone for a moment. Now, you must keep up with me.”

  In front of them was gathered a large crowd of both citizens of the town and slave traders. They were there hoping to secure themselves a live bargain which they could either use for hard work or to resell and profit from. The crowd was standing around a raised, circular wooden stage that was made of old, blacke
ned wood. This was sited on top of the slave pens. It had been raining earlier and as Rronish followed closely behind Sirarch her feet began to slide on the muddy floor as they continued, pushing through the crowd to the front of the stage. A sharp crack of a whip was heard, and a low murmur went up from the crowd. Rronish peered over the shoulders of the crowd. The auctioneer was a small, dark-haired man standing behind a black lectern. He signalled to his guards to bring the first slaves of the day up onto the stage to be traded.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, visitors and dwellers of Camulodunon,” he began, “I welcome you all here today. As this is the first trade of the day, it’s always a bargain that I generously offer you. Yes, today I offer you a complete package deal. What we have for you is a trade of a sprightly dwarf, with many years of life left in him, who’ll be happy to do all your heavy manual work. There’s also a pretty young girl here that you could take home to look after your children. Yes, and she could do all your household work for you. These two slaves that I offer together are a trade that will make your home life complete.”

  The crack of a whip was heard as the slaves were being brought forward. They had spent the night before thinking about the bleakness of their future and puzzling over which gods they’d offended. The slaves could peer out through several cracks in the planking of the wall and look at the crowd gathering there. Then a dwarf and a pretty dark-haired, dusky-skinned girl were forced up the rough wooden steps and out into the middle of the stage above them. They blinked their eyes against the brightness of the early morning sun.

  Heavy hands picked the dwarf up and propelled him out into the centre of the stage where he tripped, falling over the chain that was attached to his left ankle and landing on his face. The crowd laughed as he struggled to stand up. Soliel, the young slave girl, seeing this tried to stop herself from shaking with fear. Then she felt a large hand slam into her back, pushing her forwards and out onto the centre of the stage. Brushing some strands of dark hair away from her eyes and trying not to cry, she continued walking out bravely to stand next to the old dwarf. As she stood there holding a length of chain, her hands began to shake; yet she looked intently at the sky, quietly praying to one of her gods.