“You must think carefully before you speak, for if you do decide to help me it will indeed be dangerous work. This is one of Triannaib’s most important symbols of sovereignty - the land cannot be ruled easily without it. It’s needed now, and you are being trusted to take it to the druids. They’ll be waiting for you at their caves, south of the dark one.
“There is a certainty in this that their enemies are also your enemies. If you help them, the Druid Council will help you too, by contacting everybody they can in order to find out which slaving organisation was involved with Chresald. Once they’ve been found, they’ll be made to pay so very dearly for their crimes.”
“Yes, of course I’ll help you,” said Sirarch. “I won’t be happy until my enemies’ debt to me is settled in full. Where do I take it?”
“I knew you would help us in this quest,” said Charrideen. “What I shall do is continue to look like I’m guarding the disc here. And let’s hope our enemies fall for the ruse.” Then suddenly, two heavy blows hit the door, strong enough to make it rattle on its hinges. A deep voice grunted heavily on the other side.
“Boss, it’s me, boss!”
“Oh, that’s Shallmar, I’m expecting him. His job is to guard the centrepiece. Come in Shallmar!”
As Charrideen slid back the bolt and opened the door, a huge mercenary warrior grunted and entered the room, filling the entire doorway as he came in. His dark eyes studied the elf. His jacket and trousers were made out of a heavy green cloth and the jacket had a large hood with a flap on it that would cover most of his face when closed. This just left him with a narrow slit to view the world through. Attached to his leather belt was a black iron mace, and loosely slung across his back was a round black shield that had some magical markings in silver painted on it.
The room being quite warm, the warrior opened his jacket to reveal a heavy silver chain hung around his neck. Upon this was fixed a black, polished tourmaline crystal. These crystals were used to negate hostile magic; Sirarch also knew that there were usually several throwing knives hidden inside the shield. The man - if it was a man - folded his hood back revealing a scarred face, his brown hair finishing in a ponytail, his eyes totally black. The room now seemed quite a lot smaller with him in it, and the floorboards creaked as he walked over to Charrideen.
“Am I too early, or I’ll come back later?” his rough gravelly voice muttered. “I fort you `ad finished, boss.”
“No, we’re all done here, Shallmar. It’s all yours to protect, we’ll be going now. Help yourself to the food - and bar the door behind us.”
“Yes, boss.”
As they left the room, Charrideen turned to Sirarch.
“Shallmar is one of the guards who protect the disc for me. I don’t pay him - he refuses to take any payment, just food and board. He has his own reasons for doing the work. I think it’s something to do with him coming of age. It would indeed be a brave or a very stupid person that would try to take the disc from him. On reflection I think they’d just be very stupid. Just to confuse our enemies, the disc is also moved to a different room every night.
“But enough of this serious chatter, my friend - it’s time for us to relax. Look out of the window. Belenus is beginning to set, so let’s go downstairs and join the girls for the rest of the floor show.” As they were walking down the passage they could hear the sound of heavy furniture being dragged across the room, as Shallmar began to barricade the door.
Rronish was just about to take a bite from an apple when Timar reached over and took it right out of her hand. Smiling, he bit into it.
“Just testing the food, and it’s fine.” He laughed and sauntered away from the table, still eating the apple. Then returning quickly to Rronish, he placed a jug of mead on the table in front of her.
“With the compliments of the Wanderer of the Four Paths,” said the waiter. The other regular customers in the hostel burst into laughter, as they’d all seen this happen to customers many times before. Rronish’s expression at his antics quickly turned from shock to laughter, as the waiter poured the mead into her beaker.
A Sacred Ritual
When you are in desperate need, it’s time to call the gods...
It was in the early time of the morning, just before dawn, and the thunderstorm had ceased. The sound of a slow drumbeat came from a long torch-lit procession that walked down the wet path running alongside a stream and down the hill to the Lin-du pool. They were led by the druid Mestrathax and the tribal chief Cestrathax. Following after them were the druids and the family headmen and their wives, and then came the general tribal members. The entire tribe was making its way towards the Lin-du pool to make a solemn votive offering to their gods. The column was flanked on both sides by lines of Celtic warriors who were protecting the ceremony from outside interference.
“Why have you brought me here?” Tibullus demanded. “Am I to be sacrificed to your brutish gods? Which one of you here is going to cut my throat? This, after your chief promised my life would be spared!”
There were four guards escorting Tibullus. The guard standing in front of him was Brennus, who swiftly turned round and with the back of his hand hit the Roman roughly across the face, knocking him backwards. He began to shout, jabbing his finger in the Roman’s chest.
“You speak my tongue, Roman, so now hear mine. What do you know of us and our ways? You know nothing about us. We don’t do human sacrifice. We’re more civilised than you butchers. You Romans gorge yourselves by invading and killing in all your neighbours’ lands. I don’t see why we’re keeping you alive! But we do as we’re told. High Druid Mestrathax has personally ordered me to bring you here and return you afterwards, unharmed - and what he says is law.”
Caderyn leaned over towards Brennus.
“Calm down, leave him. The time isn’t right. There are too many people watching, it’ll keep!”
Brennus nodded, then leaned in closer to Tibullus. “Roman, I don’t have to listen to you, so shut up. And watch real power.” He turned back to watch the ceremony.
Behind them on the hillside, some of the tribe had gathered to watch, and they’d laughed and jeered at Tibullus when he’d been slapped. Then the sound of the carnyx announced the arrival of the procession. The crowd settled into total silence as the tribal family headmen and their wives positioned themselves evenly around the edges of the Lin-du pool. It was cold and dark, although there was some light from the first quarter of the lady. A chill breeze was causing a gentle flickering of the light from the druids’ torches on the still black surface of the water.
The chief whispered to Shosterax, “What should I do now?”
“It’s best that you stand at the water’s edge,” Shosterax replied. “As the offerings are passed in front of you by the druids, it’s important to the people that they see you touch every one of their offerings. The druids will then pass them out to Mestrathax who’ll be standing in the Lin-du pool. Then he’ll place them in the pool, dedicating them to the gods and asking for their assistance.”
As Mestrathax received the first offerings for placement, three Celtic warriors blew their carnyx horns and a flute began to play a lilting tune. Then the Arch Druid began slowly walking into the pool, singing an offering prayer to the gods. Shosterax took the offerings from the tribal chief and began passing them out to Mestrathax who reverently laid them into the pool, giving them to the gods.
The last items to be received into the pool were the tribal chief’s magnificent sword and a large burnished bronze ceremonial shield with red glass inlay. These alone would have been worth five years’ harvests. Slowly a great silvery mist began to rise from the water’s surface and started to move outwards from the pool. It began to reach out over the land, covering all who were present and who had come there to ask the gods’ help.
As Tibullus watched the strangely unnerving scene unfolding in front of him, the mist swirled
and came alive. It began to rise, moving and curling up the hill towards him.
“Great Mithras,” he prayed, to his own god, “I am Tibullus, your initiate and follower, who has worshipped at your temple in Londinium. I wear the mask of the lion. I now ask that you protect me from this dark and fearful Celtic magic.” Then as the mist rolled up the hill and covered them all, a strange female voice entered deep into the back of Tibullus’ mind.
“Ah, Roman, I know you well. You have no secrets from me. In your arrogance you have defiled my temples and slaughtered many of my children. Now there are many debts for you to repay, and you will repay them all.”
The guards watched with awe as the mist slowly drifted over them, and they saw Tibullus turn white. He collapsed, falling unconscious and covered in a cold sweat onto the ground of the damp hillside.
“Quick,” said Brennus, “pick him up and get him back to the hill fort. If the druids see this they’ll believe that we’ve harmed him against their orders, and then we’ll be in trouble. Gliesten, go ahead and find Brona. But don’t tell her it’s the Roman who needs her help - just get her!”
As the first rays of the dawn broke over the horizon, Mestrathax walked slowly from the pool, raising both his arms as he began to speak. His voice carried round the entire valley.
“The gods have indeed answered us, and our sacrifice has been accepted. Do not speak about this now, but just quietly return to your homes.”
Shosterax was deep in thought when he arrived back at the hill fort and was looking around for the Arch Druid Mestrathax, when some distance away he noticed a group of guards awkwardly carrying the unconscious Roman prisoner into a hut.
Gliesten had found Brona in the crowd and was asking for her help.
“Look, Brona,” he pleaded, “they’ve gone into my hut - you can see they’ve left their spears outside. Help us out of this mess, please, and we’ll owe you a big favour.”
Brona ducked her head as she entered the doorway of the hut.
“Where is the casualty?” she asked. “Oh, it’s the Roman! Which one of you hit him? You do know he’s under the protection of a blood debt for saving the chief’s son’s life? Why did you hit him?”
“Yes, we know about the blood debt, and we didn’t hurt him - he just fell over when the mist from the pool touched him. We were just watching the ceremony. Treat him, please, Brona.”
“His face is marked,” she observed, “and I’m not sure I do believe you. I don’t think this man would just fall over. These Romans are all hard, unthinking killers.” She knelt down by Tibullus, reached into a leather bag she was carrying and unfolded a crow’s feather. She placed the tip of the feather into the fire in the hearth and, as she gently waved the burning feather under the Roman’s nose, his head twitched and he started to cough and to mumble incoherently. “Ah, he’s starting to come round. But I don’t know the language he’s trying to talk to me in.”
A voice spoke from the doorway.
“He’s speaking in the Roman tongue. Stand aside,” said Shosterax as he entered the hut. He approached Tibullus and listened to his rambling as the Roman fought his way back to consciousness. “He’s been touched by Dana, our goddess! Brona, you’ll have to care for him here for a while before they can take him back to the pen. Send one of these boys here to get him some hot food and mention my name if there’s any problem. I’m needed elsewhere now but I’ll check on him later.”
Tibullus looked up, his eyes were watering a little until his sight cleared, revealing that he was in a hut and that the girl must have helped him. She was busy repacking a small bag of herbs.
“Ah, little red hair,” he mumbled, “it seems I owe you yet another debt. May Mithras give me the opportunity to repay you. What’s your name?”
“My name is none of your concern, nor will it ever be,” Brona replied without even looking at him. “I helped you because I was ordered to. You could die for all I care, Roman. I know the land would be a much happier place without all your kind.” She grabbed her bag of herbs and walked out of the hut.
“She’s more likely to slip a knife between your ribs than give you her name, Roman,” said Brennus. The guards laughed.
As Chief Cestrathax sat on a couch in the main hut, he looked at the druid Mestrathax and Rianna who had just arrived.
“Mestrathax, has the goddess of the pool given you a vision of what we should be doing to survive? Do we make war or peace?”
“Yes, I have received a gift of inspiration from the goddess Dana,” replied Mestrathax. “She has sent me a true vision, that there is only one way for us all to survive this danger.” He paused for several moments before offering the strangest advice the chief had ever received.
“I shall have to open a portal to another land, and this will enable our entire tribe to leave. We do know that there are at least two Roman legions on their way here. They know that in order for them to end this rebellion they’ll have to crush us. When they do arrive here and bring us to battle, their force will be large and we will not be to withstand them. There’ll be no mercy offered or given. There are no choices left to us now, we have to leave or be destroyed.”
Cestrathax leaned back on the large pile of rugs, shock on his face.
“Did I just hear that? Mestrathax, are you saying that you want to move the entire tribe through one of your fabled magical portals into another land? Is that really even possible?”
“You are making the mistake of limiting your mind as to what can be done,” answered Mestrathax drily. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. At the right time, I shall ask the gods if they will allow me to open a gateway between the worlds for us all to leave. We shall all have to walk the secret pathway between worlds. There is just enough time for us to do this, I believe, though there are many preparations to be made. We must not delay now for one moment.”
Gwydion and Shosterax then entered the hut.
“Ah, Gwydion, good, then my aide did manage to find you,” said the chief. “I was just going to send another out to look for you.”
“What are your orders, sir? When are we going to fight?” Gwydion asked.
“Not just yet,” the chief answered. “I want you to send a small party forward to probe the Romans’ forces and judge their strength. Then they are to report back here to me as to what they find, and how much time they think we have.”
“Do you mind if I speak?” asked Shosterax. “Gwydion, I have four capable men in mind who are a bit restless, and this is exactly what they need.”
“I trust your judgment,” replied Gwydion. “Four should do, it’s not too many so maybe they won’t be noticed. Tell me the men you have in mind.”
“Gwydion,” interrupted Cestrathax, “pick out whoever you want for the mission! Also, you will have patrols sent out to all our outlying farms, telling the people that they’re to leave their homes and come here to this hill fort, bringing with them all the food they’re able to carry. They are not to leave behind them any supplies the Romans could use. Our patrols are then to scatter their livestock and poison their wells. All buildings and every possible shelter that could be used by the enemy are to be burned to the ground.” He turned his head towards the Arch Druid and continued.
“Mestrathax, begin your preparations for whatever you have to do. And Gwydion, it’s important that those men going to search for the legions must leave right away. They must have no knowledge of what is being done here, just in case they are captured.”
“I shall have done all that you order, sir, and I’ll make that squad of men my first task.”
It was now early morning and the sky was full of leaden grey clouds. It was beginning to rain. They had now travelled some distance from the hill fort. Gliesten, who was leading the group of riders, decided to rest for a while. He slowed and reined in his horse, dismounted and waited by a stream he knew so that t
he horses could drink. He then signalled with his spear for the group who were following to join him. As they began walking towards him, Gliesten was angry.
“Brennus, you couldn’t leave him alone could you?” he demanded. “You just had to hit him, didn’t you?”
“Look, Gliesten, he was lucky to be alive! That arrogant Roman scum, you heard him, you were there. You saw I only gave him a slap - it really wasn’t hard enough to hurt him. I don’t know why he fell over. Perhaps the goddess Dana did touch him, though in all the times I’ve been to that pool she’s never spoken to me. The best I’ve ever managed to get from there was a chill from the cold and damp in the mist.”
“All of us have lost many friends to the Romans,” agreed Caderyn. “We all wanted to kill him, Brennus. But you broke a druid command, and they can’t allow that to happen so this is our punishment. What do you say, Trianuc?”
“What do I say, what do I say?” said Trianuc, stepping between them. “Caderyn, I say you all should look behind you! That’s our hill fort back there, and we’ve been given good horses and rations. Then they’ve slung us out of our homes in the early morning, like we have some deadly plague they might catch from us. Now again, all of you, my blind friends, look at the far skyline all around us and tell me, what you can see?
“All right, since you all have no eyes, I’ll tell you what you can see - but don’t understand. Look at the horizon, yes, there’s smoke rising into the sky from different positions. They are our own homesteads that are burning. Our own patrols are setting fire to them, to deny any cover or supplies to the Romans. Our own warriors are destroying as many settlements as possible, to clear as big an area around the hill fort as they can before the Roman legions arrive.” He took a deep breath.
“Very soon, we’re going to come across our own tribes’ people who are heading for our hill fort because their homes have just been destroyed, and their wells poisoned and their cattle slaughtered. All of this done to them by our own patrols, and all that they’ve ever owned has been lost to them. So everybody has a problem now! It’s no good arguing amongst ourselves about whose fault it was. Look, it could have been any one of us that hit that cursed Roman. He’s brought nothing but bad luck with him.
Pathways of the Druids Page 10
