by David Bell
“The first lance brings with it the right to claim the hide. That is my concern. No woman has ever won that right.”
“Then proclaim it as a triumph for your family. Show to all your people, and my crew, that you are acting with the generosity of a chieftain in awarding her the prize and before she claims it for her own, as she surely will. If I am not mistaken, she will acknowledge the gesture, but return the hide to you, as the right of the head of her family and headman of Crakluz. You could then award the tusks to her instead.”
Brow wrinkled in thought, eyes flicking from side to side, Anavar struggled to see his way through this matter. At last he looked up, still uncertain, but now more composed.
“You are sure of this?”
“I am sure she will see the way it has to be. Ah, is that the lady your mother on her way to see the reason for all the excitement? With your permission I will go to reassure her that in her absence her daughter has been in no real danger.”
“If it is of any importance to you,” said Kanesh later to a wary Ariadana. “What you have done today will never be forgotten by your own people and by many others since the fame of such unusual deeds spreads far. But what would surpass even that would be the noble gesture of the return of the hide, awarded to you, and rightly, in an act of no small generosity by your brother. That is what will also be remembered. It goes without saying, although I think we should not say it, that the tusks, after all, are the real symbols of the power of the king of boars. Forgive me, of course, you have already thought of that.”
Ariadana looked across at Sharesh. “Speak plainly. Is this so?”
“Assuredly. It will be remembered. My music will sing of it.”
“Then let it be so.”
“I am pleased,” said Eluwena. “Now, Lord Kanesh, it is only right that you should know what is to come.”
“Who will take up the challenge?” said Sharesh as he and Kanesh walked along the causeway to the island.
“You will,” replied Kanesh. “You are not afraid?”
Sharesh hoped it was too dark for Kanesh to have seen the quiver of alarm that shivered through his breast. He paused before replying, remembering how he had felt, as he stood on the rock with the lance balanced in his hand: calm, intent, determined.
“Yes. But I will accept it.”
“You have never faced the charge of a wild boar. You do not know what weapon you should use, nor where to find the vital spot for your thrust. Your arm bears the mark of his fury and pains you. You will be facing death in the presence of many, some of whom would prefer the greater excitement of seeing you and not the beast, bleeding and lifeless in the dust. Knowing all that, how can you accept this challenge?”
“If you will tell me how it is to be done, I will find the courage to do it. As to my arm, it has been cleaned and poulticed with crocus from the box given to Eluwena and it is not my throwing arm.”
“Very well. Tomorrow we shall be up early and go to the place prepared for this contest. You have much to learn and little time in which to learn it.”
No more was said. Kanesh tried to concentrate his mind on the tactics of the duel to come and the weapon training that Sharesh must absorb, but he could not suppress completely the feeling of pride that rose in his breast.
The challenge was to be proclaimed outside Anavar’s house at noon: that Sharesh already knew, and also that the contest would take place when the sun was halfway along his downward path to the horizon. It would give him a slight edge, Kanesh had said, because a boar does not see well and with the sun past its height he would be a little less quick to catch sight of movement. Sharesh now also knew where the duel would be fought. Outside the village, on the flat ground above the beach, strong fences had been built to form an enclosure thirty paces long and ten wide. At one end was a pen in which the boar would be caged. When the signal was given the door of the pen would be hauled up with ropes and the beast goaded out into the enclosure where his challenger would be waiting. Sharesh and Kanesh had carefully examined and walked all over the enclosure after daybreak, but found a place well away from the village to practise with the boar spear and talk endlessly about, and go through, movement, advance, retreat and above all, timing for the final thrust. People from the settlement began claiming their places behind the fences during the morning before returning to the village to wait for the challenge. Word of the contest had spread along the coast and many boats arrived full of other folk eager to see the contest. The Davina’s crew had been given leave to go ashore just before midday, to a place set aside for them.
Anavar emerged from his house at midday, followed by Eluwena, Luzar and Ariadana. He wore the same robe, belt and sword as the day before but for this occasion had a leather helmet made from the hide of a boar, complete with black bristly hair, on his head. He gestured to the crowd to give him space, raised his arms and spoke.
“The king of the boars who ravaged your crops and wasted your fields is taken! Step forward the one who struck the first blow!”
Loud mutterings and gasps of surprise burst from the crowd as Ariadana stepped onto the open space before her brother.
“Told you so,” hissed Myrtias to Kerma.
“Well, looking at her from the back, anybody could take her for a man.”
“It’s what’s at the front that matters. You ought to know that.”
Anavar shot a frown at the whisperers and then went on, staring straight at Ariadana. “The hide is yours, by right of striking the first blow. What is your reply?”
“It is my right.” Ariadana paused and silence fell. Anavar looked uncertain. Kanesh smiled to himself. The crowd began to mutter again. Ariadana raised her voice. “But in recognition of my brother’s noble gesture in conferring the right, for the first time, on a woman, I return the hide to him, as headman of his people.”
The crowd hissed and stamped their feet in approval. Anavar’s expression was a mixture of doubtfulness and smugness. He was still unsure as to how his sister’s act would be taken by his men, and, especially other headmen, but, after all, he had come out of this rather well, had he not? Listen to the crowd: they seemed to be content. Seize the moment, was that not what the foreigner had said? He raised his arms again to the crowd.
“People, hear me! In your name I accept and… hear me now… I say the tusks of the king of boars shall be Ariadana’s prize!”
The hissing and stamping grew louder still and shouts of ‘Ariadana’ and ‘Anavar’ rang out. Anavar let the applause go on until he caught his mother’s eye and reluctantly held up his arms for silence once more.
“The time of the challenge is now. All here today are challenged to face the king of boars when the sun begins to fall towards the horizon, and fight to the death. Who now will take up the challenge? The first to speak will be the challenger.”
Ariadana took one step forward but before she could take a second, a heavy broad-headed spear flew through the air and stood upright and quivering in the ground in front of Anavar. Sharesh stepped out of the crowd.
“I am Sharesh. This my spear will bring death to the king of boars.” He held up the sealstone of Koreta for all to see. “With this talisman I claim the right to challenge.”
In the shocked silence that followed, Anavar saw his chance of keeping his sister in her place, and, for once, seized it.
“Sharesh of Keftiu –”
“Of Kallista,” said Sharesh.
“Sharesh of Kallista has accepted the challenge! Prepare the place of death!
Sharesh looked across at Ariadana with a slightly apologetic smile. Her response was a brief flash of amusement quickly followed by a narrowing of the eyes as if she were trying to decide how to punish him for beating her to the challenge.
Kanesh had said that the boar would have been allowed rest and drink but no food, so he would be sullen and bad-tempered; and afraid; never forget an animal, no matter how big he is, can be afraid. The noise from the crowd would do that to him. It made him more da
ngerous, but more rash, too. Remember that: it can give you the advantage. The spear, as long as a man, had a smooth ash wood shaft and leaf-shaped bronze head nearly two hands long with a mid rib running to the point for opening the wound as it went in. It was heavy; not a lance for throwing but a forcing weapon for thrusting. If you had to, you could ram the butt in the ground and let the beast run on to it, but the chance of that happening was small. You had to wait for the right moment as he came on and drive that head in under his shoulder on the left side and the weight of his charge would ram it home and the lugs sticking out from the base of the spearhead would stop him forcing himself up the shaft to get at you even as he was dying. You get only one good chance to bring him down and keep him there: if you miss that, it’s running and dodging and jabbing and tiring before he does. And even then, if you can’t get over the fence in time, he will rip you to pieces with those tusks.
With all these words whirling through his mind, Sharesh stood near the end of the fenced compound, waiting for the door of the pen to open. All he wore besides a loincloth and his pipes on a string round his waist was a cloth band round his forehead to keep the sweat out of his eyes. The people lining the fences were chattering to each other, drinking from upended pitchers, biting into fish pasties, making wagers and all beginning to feel excitement rising inside them.
“He hasn’t the strength; never used a boar spear before; I never even knew there was one on the ship; we’ll be a lookout short after this, you see.”
“Listen, shipmate,” said Kerma. “You know as much about boar fighting as I do about a peacock’s arsehole. Look at him, man: he’s light on his feet and fast, and as for knowing about boar spears, he’s had the lord showing him all morning.”
“He’s not afraid, either,” said Namun. “See how steady his hands are.”
“All right, all right; if you’re so sure, how about a wager? If that boar doesn’t rip him to bits and chew up the pipes hanging from his belt, you can have my next dinner and I’ll eat boar turds.”
“It’s come to something when we can’t get one of our own young men to take up the challenge. Having a stranger do it brings shame on us,” said a village elder to his neighbour.
“I hope he doesn’t get hurt,” said his daughter. “He’s so nice-looking.”
“Hold your tongue,” said the elder. “They’re going to pull up the gate.”
Perhaps the boar was asleep. Whatever the reason, he did not come out, even though the pen was now wide open. Anavar waved a hand and a man poked his lance through the wicker roof and jabbed hard. There was a sharp squeal followed by growling grunts and the boar rushed outside to stand snorting and raising his head and swinging it round as he heard the crowd begin to shout. He stood as high at the shoulder as Sharesh’s waist. He tore at the ground with his long, thick snout, gouging holes and tossing dust and stones into the air, taking no more notice of the baying crowd. Suddenly he stopped rooting, jerked up his head and thrust his snout out before him, wrinkling its gristly rim. He had scented something nearby, an enemy or a prey. Tusks a hand’s breadth long curved up from his lower jaw, curling slightly over his snout and framing his small red furious eyes that glared in the direction of the vague figure that had moved towards him and then stopped. He saw it, took a few steps, then bounded forward in the charge. Once he sees you, Kanesh had said, his tail will lift up and he will cover the ground towards you before you can draw a second breath. Feint left; he will swerve and as he comes on you thrust below the foreleg joint.
It was over before most onlookers knew what was happening. The broad-leaf spearhead thrust under the ribs and drove its point into the heart. Sharesh staggered back as the beast blundered on, but the spearhead lugs kept the shaft free, and somehow he stayed on his feet. Seeing the sprays of blood spouting from the boar’s mouth and flank, he loosed his hold on the spear and stood aside as the boar sank to the ground, jerking and choking and bleeding its life into the dust. Sharesh looked down at what moments before had been a hurtling mass of muscle and was now a dusty shaggy heap with the flies already buzzing over its blood. He felt no excitement, no triumph, only pity. He tugged the spear from the boar’s side as gently as he could and laid it on the ground. In the long stunned silence that followed the sudden end to the challenge, Sharesh took the pipes from his belt and began a long, lament that built up slowly to a sudden shrill scream before fading away into sweet, lingering notes that sounded to many in the crowd almost like a lullaby.
Kanesh made a little downward movement of his hand towards the ship’s party. Arrows were lifted from cords and slipped back into quivers without anyone seeing. As ordered, the archers had drawn when the boar charged but there had been no need to loose.
The crowd began to stamp and cheer. Sharesh scanned the exultant faces, searching for those he knew. The Davina’s men were waving to him with fists clenched. He felt Kanesh’s eyes on him, saw the arm rise in a soldier’s salute and lifted his own in acknowledgment. Then he saw Ariadana. She was standing a little apart from the mass of people with Luzar at her side and Anavar and Eluwena behind. Sharesh picked up the boar spear and walked over to them. He stood close enough to her to hear her breathing.
“We are even now,” he said.
She said nothing. He drew his finger along the blood-clotted blade of the spear and touched her forehead. The crimson drop ran sluggishly a little way down her brow and stopped.
“This is not the end,” she said.
He turned to Luzar and touched his brow. “It is a beginning,” said Luzar.
“I know,” said Sharesh. He bowed his head slowly and solemnly towards the other two and walked away to find Kanesh.
“The people are waiting for a salute from the victor.”
Sharesh strode to the middle of the compound, took the bloody spear in both hands and raised it high above his head. He turned full circle as the crowd bayed its delight. He tossed the weapon towards Namun and climbed out of the enclosure. His one wish now was to go down to the sea and wash the dried blood from his hands and body in the clear salt water. The onlookers hissed in respect for the victor and stood aside to let him pass through, many laying a hand on his shoulder or calling out his name. He left the task of cutting out of the tusks to Namun, who took them away later to scrape with a sharp flake of flint and polish with sand and water in readiness for Ariadana to receive them the next day, from her brother.
Sharesh ran down to the water’s edge and threw himself into the waves, thrashing about and rubbing his arms and body with handfuls of sand clawed up from the bottom. When he felt clean enough, he swam out to the ship and hauled himself up her side. A strong hand grasped his arm and helped pull him on board.
“They will not let it rest there,” said Potyr. “You will be expected to carry on playing the part of victor.”
“A part at this moment I would rather exchange for sleep.”
“You feel the drowsiness that often follows escape from extreme danger. Sleep now, while you can. You will have little time for sleep soon. And remember this: what you have done today assuredly brings success in our quest here that much closer.”
“Forgive my asking, Captain, but have you ever felt that drowsiness? None of us has ever seen you sleep.”
“Sleep is for the young. For others, some others, its place is stolen by memories, regrets and reminders of duty.”
“Captain, when I saw the great boar lying defeated and dead at my hand, I first felt pity for him. Later, I found myself parading as victor before the crowd and I despised myself.”
“Pity and just pride are equally honourable. The match was hardly even: you had never before faced such a formidable adversary. If the foe is worthy, as this one was, there is no dishonour in signalling your victory, nor any weakness in feeling pity.”
HIGH SUMMER
There was to be feasting and drinking, dancing and jollity on the day when the sun reached its highest in the sky. Piles of wood had been built on high places, the biggest of all o
n the summit of the island, in readiness for firing when the moon rose. There would be ceremonies and processions to the standing stones. There would be music from pipes and drums for the dancing, some in the village for all to see and join in, and some in secret forest clearings where the tattooed men would perform the dances that only they knew, wearing their animal heads and chanting words so ancient that few of them now knew their meaning, but all felt their power. Kanesh knew all this was to come and that the Davina’s men, Sharesh especially, would be drawn into the rites and revelry so what he was determined to do this day was to go to the mines. Anavar was too preoccupied with the coming festivities, which suited Kanesh’s purposes because his guide was to be the warehouse man, one Galdar, a shrewd and practical man who had worked in the mines and knew the metal. Before they set out, Kanesh was shown the stocks of tinstone and ingots and bars of tin stored in the warehouse. He saw at once there was enough to fill the Davina’s hold and more, and asked Galdar if so much was usually in store.
“It happens sometimes in good weather, when there’s rain enough for the washings but not too much as makes men cold and loath to work a long day; or when we have storms and the ships can’t get here from the Ocean Land to trade and sometimes not even get out of here and along the coast to the smiths in the great forest or over the water. And would you believe, there’s times when nobody seems to want it and it piles up here.”
Kanesh liked what he was hearing: it sounded as if there might be supplies enough for regular trade. He picked up an ingot and looked at the smith’s mark on the lower surface; then another that proved to have a different mark. He took a bronze bar from his wallet and struck several of the ingots.
“A good sound from that one: it has the right ring to it. Now the sound from this one is a little woody. There must be holes or dross inside.”
“And what would you do about that?”
