Pathways of the Druids

by Christopher J. Pine

  “What we have to do now is try and forget the past, and look to our future to redeem ourselves. It’s a very simple thing we have to do. We have to find and scout out a Roman army, remain undetected, and return home as heroes to warn our comrades. It shouldn’t be that difficult to do, it’s a small thing they ask us to do, just a little exercise before a meal. This is the only action that matters to us now, so no more useless talk. Just let’s all bury our differences in the past. We have to live for today, all of us must now drink from the same cup and eat the same bread.

  “Brennus, break out of your pack that rough wine and the cup you always carry. Gliesten, you supply the bread to seal the end of this argument between us. We must be friends in this land - or the land of Tir Na Gog where we may all be going. We’ll share this food and drink, and then it’s done! Only then can we go forward as friends again, and honour our ancestors and the gods by our deeds.”

  The Gathering Storm

  The Celts prepare their resistance.

  The Camp Prefect walked over to where the Governor General was standing next to the legionary eagles and the cohort standards. He was also deeply engrossed in a discussion with a tribune. But the Camp Prefect was in a hurry.

  “Permission to report, sir?” he interrupted.

  Seutonius Paulinus held up his hand to finish the conversation with the tribune, then turned to him and returned the salute.

  “Permission granted, Camp Prefect, what is your report?”

  “We have located the bodies of Catullus and his patrol, and I’ve placed a volunteer guard there to patrol the area and keep any animals away from the site. The men that volunteered for the task were all chosen from the first cohort of the Fourteenth Augusta Gemina Legion.

  “Sir, this camp is now secure and the ditch and stockade will soon be completed. Once that’s been done, the tents will be erected and all will be ready before nightfall. There are also two patrols of cavalry out at this moment, but they’re not expected to return before sunset, sir.”

  Seutonius looked hard at the Camp Prefect before replying to him.

  “Everything seems to be in order, Camp Prefect. At first light, despatch some long-range patrols and let’s see what they can find out. Then inform our priests that at midday I wish them to attend a full dress ceremony for our fallen legionaries. All contingents of the legions and the auxiliaries are to be present on parade for the funeral rites. Immediately after the funeral, tell the haruspex that they will then sacrifice an offering to the gods. They are to produce an augury for me on the best way and time to deal with these Celts.”

  It was now just after sunset and under the cover of the woodland undergrowth, the Celtic scouting party had left their horses further back in the woods. For the rest of the journey they had travelled on foot, crawling forwards until they could watch the Roman legions as they set up their camp. They lay still on the ground, ignoring the distraction of the water from an early rain shower as it slowly dripped off the trees and ran down onto them. They tried to ignore their discomfort, and lay still in the long undergrowth of the forest watching the Roman encampment being built.

  Gliesten, without speaking, slowly raised his right hand and indicated with a circling motion to his left and then to his right to his comrades. This told them that they were to leave and find other vantage points from where they could watch the Romans. Then without a word being spoken, the party split up and each man duly crept silently away to different positions as they’d been ordered.

  Flames started to lick slowly at the base of the first funeral pyre. Seutonius Paulinus stood back and passed the lighted brand in his hand to a priest. The haruspex carefully took the burning brand from him and continued walking around, setting light to all sides of the funeral pyre. As he did so, other priests set alight the other pyres. A sharp breeze sprang up that began blowing the smoke and the scent of the burning pyre over the surrounding ground. The heat from the fire was building as Suetonius Paulinus began to speak.

  “In the name of the emperor, I will bring our just revenge onto your killers. As you served Rome well, Rome will now serve you well. I place myself before Jupiter, so that he may hear me and bear witness to my oath, and hold me to the truth and the breath of my words.”

  As the haruspex continued to light the fires, Seutonius Paulinus returned to his horse. He rode back to a position directly in front of the burning funeral pyre beside the standard bearers and the honour guard who were guarding the legions’ eagles. Then an aide quickly signalled to the legions that were on parade for the ceremony. The trumpeters start to issue different commands and the men began to move, slowly parading past the funeral pyres of their fallen comrades. They passed directly between Seutonius Paulinus and the pyre to pay their last respects to their fallen comrades and then marched back into their temporary camp.

  On the hillside overlooking this scene, Gliesten turned to Caderyn and said, “Brennus and Trianuc are late, and with what we’ve seen here we must get away as soon as possible. We have to get back with this news as fast as we can.”

  Caderyn looked at him worriedly.

  “Brennus is my cousin - I can’t leave here without him.”

  A sudden rustling noise in the bushes announced the arrival of someone approaching their position. Trianuc walked into the middle of the small clearing.

  “Are we all here?” he asked. “Where’s Brennus? The last time I saw him he said he wanted to get a closer look at their camp. Hasn’t he returned yet?”

  “No, Trianuc,” answered Gliesten, “he’s still missing and we thought you were too. A message must be sent back. Belenus has passed over midway and the Romans won’t be waiting here for very much longer. If we’re lucky, they’ll stay maybe one more night. I’ll wait here for Brennus to return, but you two must leave now and take what you’ve seen home. I’ll follow you as soon as I can. Good luck, and may the gods favour us with meeting again in this world. Now leave!”

  Venthl, the senior haruspex, was worried; his young assistant had gone missing. He was hurriedly searching through the Roman encampment when he arrived at the main entrance. He approached and spoke to the guard.

  “Excuse me, legionary, but have you seen a young man pass this way? His name is Mit - he’s tall, wearing blue check robes and he has short brown hair. Did you see him pass through here?”

  The legionary turned to face him, looking at him arrogantly.

  “Yes, I did see a young man that looked like that, he went past me earlier, but he said he had a pass. Is he one of your assistants, haruspex?”

  “Yes, he is. How long ago was it that he went out? And he had no pass, so why didn’t you stop him?”

  “It was early,” the guard shrugged. “I’d just started my duty. He went up into the woods nearby, said he just wanted some privacy to play the flute pipes away from the noise of the camp. It was quieter then and you could just about hear him. But I haven’t heard him play anything lately.”

  “You blundering fool,” shouted Venthl. “He could be dead! If you’d done your job properly and checked closer, you would’ve seen he had no authorisation to leave the camp. He should not be out there. No-one should be out there!” A centurion walked over to see what was causing the disturbance at the entrance.

  “Centurion,” said Venthl, turning to him, “I must have your help. One of my priests, a youth, has gone out into the woods. It’s too dangerous for him to be out there, and his skills are urgently needed now by Seutonius Paulinus, the Governor General.”

  The centurion frowned when he saw that Venthl was a haruspex and that he was carrying a staff of office with a carved figure of Apollo on the tip.

  “Right, sir. I’ll send a squad of men out to look for him straight away and return him directly to your tent. If we find him alive. You should instruct him to be a lot more careful in future.”

  Later that day Mit, who h
ad now been found, was being escorted back through the camp by a legionary. His head was lowered as he slowly walked up to Venthl, the head haruspex, who was standing waiting for him just outside their tents. The legionary guard saluted Venthl, who acknowledged him.

  “We found your servant, sir,” said the guard. “I think the lad was lucky today.”

  “Yes, you could say he’s been very lucky, but a god has been guiding you in finding him. Do give your commander my deepest thanks, and inform him that he must come and see me. As a gift of thanks, I will read his omens and lay his life pathway out before him.” The legionary saluted and returned back to his duties. Mit looked up and began to offer his excuses.

  “Master Venthl, I’m sorry, I apologise for all the trouble I’ve caused everyone. When the soldiers found me, I’d completely lost track of the day.”

  “You took a great risk leaving the camp, Mit,” said Venthl sternly. “It isn’t safe for anyone out there yet. But forget that for now, you’re back in here with us and safe. Now, put all of that out of your mind. I have another matter that is a lot more urgent for you to worry about. The Governor General wishes us to read the auguries and supply him with information on these renegade Celts. Mit, I want you to locate and oversee their oppida. Your colleagues have been preparing a sacrifice to Vulcan to aid you in this so let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”

  “Of course, master Venthl,” said Mit. “I’ll do my best for you right away.”

  Venthl was leading the way into a large square that was screened off from the rest of the camp. This had been done by large orange linen sheets, which were flapping gently in the breeze. Inside the area was a central square where there was a fire burning in an iron brazier and a large leather water container standing close to it. Not far away, there were also two wooden cages full of captured wild birds. Several priests were sitting and quietly waiting for them to return. A strong smell of pungent incense was hanging in the air and Venthl could feel the charge in the atmosphere. He pointed to a large blue rug that had been laid in front of the brazier.

  “Be seated, Mit, be calm and clear your mind of all of your thoughts while I prepare the sacrifice to the gods. Then I’ll need you to begin an overview of the area, to search for the Celts’ oppida.”

  The High Priest leaned slightly down and quickly dipped a small net into the water container, deftly catching several live fish which he placed delicately onto a burnished copper metal plate on the burning brazier. The water steamed off the fish as they flapped a little before they died. A gust of wind blew some smoke onto Mit, making his eyes water, and he blinked as he sat down on the large rug. He crossed his legs and put the flutes that he’d been carrying gently onto the mat beside him. Then he started slowing his breathing as he stared gently into the yellow and red flames of the hot brazier, concentrating, clearing his mind of any petty mundane thoughts.

  Slowly the noise of the camp gently faded away. Then as he heard the doors of the birds’ cages being opened, his thoughts became as light as the wind. The birds panicked as they flew out of their cages, grasping at their freedom, they circled above the camp and fluttered high into the sky. Mit’s mind followed the flight of the birds and a picture slowly began to form in his mind’s eye of the area surrounding the Roman encampment. He now started to narrate what he was seeing to an aide who had sat down behind him. The aide busied himself scratching every utterance he made onto a wax tablet with a stylus.

  “Ah,” began Mit. “I can see our camp and the ditch around it - it’s not yet finished. And now... I feel that I’m going towards the rising sun... I believe I’m some miles away from here. I can make out something else, yes, I see some smoke there. There’s a homestead on fire and the roofing thatch has just fallen in. But it appears to be completely deserted. There are no people or animals anywhere to be seen. I’ll go higher...”

  He watched as a different scene opened in front of him, showing him the countryside below.

  “Yes, further along a track way there is a group of people... I’ll get closer to them. This must be the family that have fled the burning homestead. There are three children and two adults. The children are crying and the woman is pregnant... the man is carrying a heavy pack, a shield and a spear. He is encouraging them all to move faster. They’re hurrying along a narrow trail. I’ll pass them by and see what lies ahead.” As the land sped by beneath him, the scene changed to that of a wider forest track where he saw a flock of birds rise into the sky. He looked down into the forest to see what had disturbed them.

  “Venthl, I have found some of the enemy cavalry. I can see that there are about two turnae of them. Some of the Celtic warriors there are carrying chickens. They must have looted those from the burning homestead. Yes, I can see... yes, in the distance, they’re heading towards an oppida! Thanks to the goddess Minerva who must be guiding me! Yes, this must be it... It’s a very large oppida, and there’s a strong guard on the palisade and the gate. Inside I can see that it’s busy and crowded with many people. And there’s also a strange blue haze surrounding some of the huts on the top of the oppida... I’ll get closer to them and take a look inside...”

  Mit tried to pass through the light blue haze into one of the huts on the oppida.

  “This mist is dense and sticky, hard to get through, but I’m nearly there...”

  As Mit’s mind entered through the roof of the hut, he heard a sharp hissing noise and felt a searing pain as something sharp slashed him across the face. Grasping his face with both hands and groaning in pain, he rolled over onto his side. He was now lying on the blue rug in front of the hot brazier, his mind firmly back inside the Roman encampment.

  The Camp Prefect entered the tent of the Governor General.

  “Sir, I apologise for interrupting your lunch, but I have message from the haruspex. The due sacrifices to the gods have now been completed and they are ready to receive you for your divination, sir.”

  Seutonius Paulinus pushed the half-empty plate of pork and vegetables away from him and, taking a last sip of the watered wine, slowly stood up from the table.

  “Thank you, Camp Prefect. Please inform the guard that I shall require a full dress escort,” replied the Governor General.

  As he entered the tent of the haruspex, the smell of sandalwood and lemongrass incense was very strong. Seutonius Paulinus blinked as his eyes began to water a little from the heavy odour. In the corner of the tent, the priests were pacifying a young sheep. A voice spoke loudly.

  “Who comes and requests guidance from the haruspex?”

  “It is I, Caius Seutonius Paulinus, Governor General of Britannia. I require a reading from the gods to aid me in my struggle against one of Rome’s many barbarian enemies who are breaking the peace of Rome.”

  “Please enter and be seated, Governor General,” said Venthl. “We have made a sacrifice and petitioned the gods. I believe they will lift the veil of this world, and for a short time will disclose to us our possible future.”

  The sheep had stopped bleating. The four priests gathered around the dead animal were now busy examining its entrails. Venthl carefully washed the blood off his hands in a large, ornate silver bowl of steaming hot water, then turned and walked over to address Seutonius Paulinus. The priest’s white robes were showing several splashes of blood. He stood upright as he spoke.

  “Governor General, the omens are very clear. We are facing a foe that is skilled in the use of strength, guile and magic. We have found their oppida. It is a large and a well-fortified position, three day’s journey from here to the setting sun. It is very important that, before you act, you should wait for the next new moon, which will be rising in four days. This is the best time for you move against them.

  “Complete victory will only be yours if you place all your forces on the field of Mars, and when you trap them you must make the end certain and quickly, for the omens have shown that by
magic and trickery they will try to escape you. This augury is now complete, and I trust that the Governor General has found the reading we have given him to his full satisfaction.”

  “They will not escape me, Venthl,” replied Seutonius Paulinus. “We must stamp out this rebellion quickly. I thank you for your efforts. Yes, I shall think deeply on the wisdom that the gods have offered me today. Rome thanks you and your priests for your skill.”

  As he stood up, he leaned forward and placed a brown leather bag of coin onto a nearby table before leaving the tent.

  Gliesten was lying hidden in the undergrowth. He was cold and he’d been lying in one position for a long time now, waiting for Brennus to return. His left leg ached, so he slowly started to roll onto his other side, to let the blood flow back into the leg, when he heard someone approaching his position.

  “Gliesten, where are you?” whispered Brennus, who had finally arrived.

  Gliesten emerged from the heavy undergrowth to greet his friend, who had rubbed dark mud all over his face and body to act as camouflage.

  “Quick, give me a drink, I’m parched,” said Brennus.

  “It’s good to see you,” said Gliesten, “but where by the gods have you been? I’ve already sent the others back to the hill fort. Here, have some of this water, then tell me what you’ve seen.” Brennus took a long drink before replying.

  “I was in the woods overlooking their camp, not far from the main gate. I just avoided one of their cavalry patrols. Then I heard someone playing the flute pipes, so I crept forward towards the music and found a young Roman boy. I wanted to leave a message for the Romans that we’re still to be feared and I’d just managed to get fairly close to him when a patrol of legionaries arrived. They must’ve been sent out to find the young fool.”