Chapter Two

The Gathering Storm

By midsummer, Inaki had his boots and cloak and left the village to look for the animal man. He travelled into the high mountains for four days. Then on the sixth day he reached the crest of the first range of mountains. Before him he saw two further ranges. Between each range were deep-wooded misty valleys and beyond the second range, somewhere there he should find the man he sought. The work had gone well. There had been no shortage of folk who had wanted the services of his wolf-dog. On his feet was a fine pair of deer skin boots; about his shoulders a heavy woollen cloak that his mother had traded for and in his belt a fine long knife of iron and the two-headed axe. He had done well, but it had taken longer than he bargained for.

On the tenth day, in a high valley, between two great mountains he found a hut of stone. Outside and on the slopes some sheep and goats grazed. As he approached, two enormous dogs came barking towards him. He stopped, sat down and waited. The dogs rushed towards him. He made the wolf-dog sit. The dogs came on. The wolf-dog soon flattened himself on the ground with head forward and eyes fixed firmly on the approaching dogs. His whole body coiled, ready to attack.

“Steady, stay!” whispered, Inaki.

The wolf-dog relaxed at his master’s voice and his head rested between his paws.

At four paces from him, the dogs stopped but were still barking. Then they began growling and showing their teeth. Inaki could see that they weren’t at all friendly. They were a fearsome sight and both boy and wolf-dog remained very still so as not to antagonise them further. For some time the situation remained the same. Eventually the dogs stopped barking and growling and just sat watching him. If he made to move they growled and stood up. This situation seemed unresolvable and remained the same for what seemed like an age.

In essence, the time that had passed was shorter than he thought. It just felt longer. Suddenly the wolf-dog stood up and rapidly turned round growling. The boy looked behind him. There, some twenty paces away, stood a mountain of a man. He gave a long, low whistle and the two dogs ran to his side and sat. He gave the boy a long, hard and unpleasant look. His azure eyes were as cold as the pebbles in a mountain stream and his piercing gaze seemed to go through Inaki to his very bones.

Then he spoke, “What are you doing here?” There was no sound of welcome in the voice.

It took Inaki a while to compose himself. Then he said. “I’ve come to see you, if you are who I think you are.”

“I am known as Aguirre Aguirre. Am I the one you seek?” said the man.

“Yes. They say you know about animals and dogs in particular.” Inaki said.

“Come to my hut!” the man said sharply.

The boy did not move.

“Are you afraid?” the man said roughly.

“No.” He paused. “Not for me, but I fear for your dogs.”

The man laughed hard with mockery in his voice.

“They’re bitches. Your animal is a dog. No dog will ever attack a bitch. Bitches rule in the world of the dog and the wolf. No harm will befall them. It is your animal that may not escape injury from them. I can see you have a lot to learn.”

The man turned and walked towards the hut with Inaki following meekly. As he entered the hut he could smell food and he realised for the first time how hungry he was. The man went to an iron pot by the fire, took a wooden bowl and poured out the largest portion of lamb stew he had ever seen. He gave it to the boy and then served himself.

“What are you called?” the man asked.

“Inaki of the iron people.”

“You’re a long way from home for a boy your age,” said Aguirre.

“Yes, but I had to come,” the boy said in a low voice.

“How did you come by that dog?” the man said.

“He’s no dog, but a wolf.”

“You’re only partly right, his mother might have been a wolf, but his father was a dog. That’s why he stays with you, for now.”

The boy’s heart sank. “You mean he will leave me.”

“Could happen at any time,” the man said. “That’s why I don’t keep them. You can’t rely on them. They can turn at any time and are highly dangerous. No good to me. How long have you had him?”

“A summer and a winter,” the boy said in a low voice.

“If he is going to leave you, it will be this winter. If he stays after that he may stay forever, but you never know with these animals. The call of the wild can be too strong for them to resist. What do you want him for anyway?”

The boy thought for a moment, and then spoke slowly and quietly with emotion.

“He is the only friend that I have in the world.”

Aguirre looked at the boy for a long time in silence. He felt for him. He looked hard at the emerald green eyes, full of tears, and saw the iron will and control that the boy was exercising over his emotions. He took in the boy’s bearing. He looked at his clothes and the way his cloak was pulled back over the strong, young shoulders. He had shown no fear of his dogs. He contemplated and made his assessment. The boy was intelligent and sensitive. His young body showed strength and determination. He spoke softly.

“The Gods have many needs and so do men.”

The words cut through the boy like a sharp knife. Inaki was stunned. They were the words that every Basque uses at the beginning of negotiations. He hesitated before he made the proper response.

“Yes, but of all the Gods, the Earth and Moon Goddesses are the greatest.” He continued: “For me I ask nothing, for my wolf-dog I ask your help.”

“So be it,” Aguirre said. “If he is to live amongst men then he must find his place and have work to do, for no man or animal can be idle or without purpose. Now tell me exactly how you came by him, and leave not the smallest detail out, for I will tell you the importance of your words when you have finished.”

When the boy had finished his tale, having been questioned by Aguirre very expertly over every detail, he sat and waited while the big man pondered. After a while Aguirre began, sometimes pausing and choosing his words carefully.

“As I said, this is a wild animal and he will be unpredictable, so his training will have to be given with great care. I must train you first before we start. You cannot afford to make any mistakes or all will be lost. Are you prepared to follow my instructions without complaint or contradiction?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because if you don’t I will tell you to go.”

The boy thought for a moment, and said:

“I will obey.”

“Now we will agree a price for my tutoring. You will work for me for twelve lunar months.”

The boy’s mouth fell open so wide that he almost dislocated his jaw. He quickly composed himself and sat up straight on his three-legged stool and replied:

“I hope you’re worth it.”

Aguirre chuckled to himself. The boy has spirit, he thought to himself.

“Now,” Aguirre said, “let us talk about this wolf-dog.”

As he said this he reached down towards one of the animal’s paws. Without a sound, the wolf-dog sprang to his feet and went straight for the man’s throat. Aguirre fell back off his stool and onto the floor.

The boy put a hand on the animal’s great head and said softly, “Be still now.”

The animal went down at his feet, the great head resting between his paws.

“Touchy bastard isn’t he?” Aguirre said.

“He will let no other touch him.” The boy spoke the words as a simple statement of fact.

Aguirre picked himself up from the floor with all the dignity he could muster, set the stool straight a little further from the wolf-dog and tried to compose himself and began.

“It is my opinion,” he said in a solemn voice, “that a dog fathered your animal. From what you have told me I think it happened like this.”

He went on to explain that wolves lived in packs led by the dominant female. When she came into season she would mate the male in the pack who was in the best condition and who was the strongest; thereby ensuring that her young cubs would inherit the strength, stamina and speed of the mate. Wolf packs, therefore, were made of extended family members. Uncles and aunts and the young of the dominant pair were not allowed to breed.

In this way the wolf pack makes sure that only the fittest are allowed to breed. As the cubs grow older and reach breeding condition, both the dominant male and female will drive away any wolf that challenges them and will not submit until one day they become too old or infirmed. At that point a younger, fitter, female or male will win the contest and drive the older wolf out. In this way, the integrity and health of the pack is maintained.

It was Aguirre’s opinion that the dead wolf that the boy had found was a female that had been driven out of her pack by her mother. It had happened when she had reached maturity and breeding condition and had unsuccessfully made a challenge for the pack. She had not judged the right time to make her challenge. She had wondered about in heat and by chance, had bred with a dog. This was rare but not unknown since wolves and dogs were closely related. However, cubs from crossbreeding seldom survived. In the wild the wolf pack members would bring food to the female and her cubs. The dog would not have stayed. He would have returned to his master and the she-wolf would have been left to starve with her cubs.

He had found the cub in the nick of time, and it was by the will of the Gods that the cub had survived at all. What the Gods intended for him and the cub, only time would tell. The Gods were cruel and unpredictable like the wolf-dog. They would have some purpose, which would be made known to Inaki in time. That it would involve great danger, of that he had no doubt. That made the training that he would give of the greatest importance, since it could mean their survival or death.

“What do you call this animal?” Aguirre asked.

“Eramaitza,” Inaki replied in Basque.

Aguirre began to chuckle. This grew into an uncontrollable fit of laughter until for the second time he fell off the stool and onto the floor.

“Eramaitza,” he said, laughing so uncontrollably that he held his sides in pain.

“Eramaitza,” he said again and howled with laughter. The wolf-dog stood up and turned his head to one side inquiringly. He looked at the man as if he had gone completely mad. Aguirre lay on the floor completely out of control. How apt, he thought, what every Basque fears most. The eramaitza (storm) that comes so suddenly with no warning and takes all before it. It was the Basque word for that phenomenon of nature, which only the people of the mountains knew. ‘Mountain Storm,’ he had called the wolf-dog. What an understatement. The eramaitza was howling winds, torrential rain and lightning all rolled into one. It was the expression of the Gods in full, unrelenting anger. It washed away mountainsides, homes, cattle and sheep without mercy. It was 10,000 diablos let loose on an unsuspecting world. It fitted the animal perfectly. Inaki and Storm would come down from the mountains in the inky darkness and fall on their enemies. Storm, ninety pounds of solid muscle and bone, would rip open throats with his fifty-four razor sharp teeth. The thought struck Aguirre like iced water. A chill ran up this spine and brought him abruptly to his senses. What in the name of all the Gods had he let himself in for?

He stood up and in a cold matter-of-fact voice he said: “We must rest. We have a hard day ahead of us. Take two sheepskins and sleep by the fire.”

The boy said nothing; it was not the right time for words. He took the skins and made his bed.

“Gabon,” said Aguirre.

“Gabon,” replied the boy. (It was Basque for, ‘goodnight’.)

Storm, turned around three times at his master’s feet and lay down. He put his thick tail under his long black nose and settled down to sleep.

At dawn on the morning of the 27 July, 771 AD, Aguirre and Inaki rose, walked down to the stream, took off their tunics then washed and refreshed themselves. They filled their goatskin water bottles and made their way back to the stone hut. Once inside Aguirre took three wooden bowls, filled them with goat’s milk and broke a few pieces of stale bread into them. He took the bowls outside and gave two short whistles. From amongst the sheep grazing on the hillside, the two large Pyrenean Mountain dogs came bounding down. Inaki marvelled at their speed. They were pure white and moved smoothly and powerfully. Aguirre gave one of the bowls to Inaki.

“Give this to Storm. Always look after your dog. In these mountains he will be the difference between life and death.”

He placed the other two bowls on the ground. Inaki studied the dogs at close quarters. Around their necks they wore spiked collars. Nearly ninety-eight pounds in weight and up to a man’s thigh in height, they were as big as Storm, and like Storm, totally devoted to their master.

“Come,” said Aguirre, “we must pack. Today, we move the flock into the high mountains, where the grass is new and sweet. We will remain there until the snows come.”

Aguirre took two toxas, large leather bags made of wild boar hides and extremely strong, and filled them with pieces of dry salted pork, flour, dry meat and a bag of salt. In the other bag, he put candles, flint and three large goats cheeses, together with a bag of arrowheads and spare bow strings. The remaining space he filled with sheepskins, rope and needles with some thread. Finally, from under this sleeping pallet he took an unstrung bow. Inaki marvelled at the bow. It was the length of a full grown man. It would take someone of enormous strength to string it, never mind pull it. They took a bag each, a goat skin water bottle each and began their journey.

As they walked, Aguirre explained how they would train Storm.

“But first we must tell your mother where you are,” said Aguirre.

Not for the first time, Inake’s mouth opened in astonishment.

“How can we do that?”

“When the great Sun God goes to his resting place we will send a message,” replied Aguirre simply.

At sunset, Aguirre made a fire and prepared an iron pot of food. After they had eaten, he stood up. He filled his lungs with air and started to yell the undulating battle cry and alarm call that the Basques name the irrintzi, followed by a number of short and long whistles. Almost immediately, they received a reply. There then followed an exchange of whistles and shouts.

“There, the message is sent. Gortxu the shepherd on the next mountain will pass it back until it reaches your mother.”

Aguirre sat down, deep in thought.

“Something wrong?” asked the boy.

“Too early to tell. Gortxu said that there are troops massing on the other side of our mountains in Aquitaine. It could be something or nothing. They’re always fighting someone. We live in a world of intrigue, betrayal and death. In my whole life, I’ve never known a day without a war being fought somewhere or other. Enemies are all around us. To the south are the Moors, to the east are the Franks and to the west the Visigoths and Asturians, but they’re no match for us. Only the sea to the north is our friend and even he can be treacherous, especially when the Great Octopus Sea God has eaten something that disagrees with him.”

The next day, after they had eaten, Aguirre turned to the boy and said: “You must learn that Storm thinks differently from men. His senses in many ways are superior to those of man, in particular his senses of smell and hearing. Also he can sense changes in the weather before we can and most important of all, he can smell evil. You must learn to use this in his training and make use of this great power and speed.

His fearless aggression will be the greatest challenge and his attack training must be undertaken with great care.” After a pause, he asked:

“Does he bark?”

“No, but he prays to the Moon Goddess, like this.” Inaki put his head back and howled.

Aguirre laughed. “Does he pray to the Sacred Oak and the Sacred Sea Octopus as well?”

“No, he just howls when the moon is filled by the Goddess.”

“That is well, for surprise is the most important element in attack. The first lesson,” said Aguirre, “will be to dig on command. You will bury his food at mealtimes until he obeys instantly.”

“By the Gods, what use is that?” Inaki said, astonished.

“For two reasons, in a blizzard, a snow hole can save your life, and then there may come a time when you will need to conceal yourself. A dog can normally dig much faster than any man.”

He had said more than he intended. He had spoken for a long time. It was rare for Aguirre to give way to his feelings or to speak at great length. He was a man of few words and so he and the boy sat in silence. In the days that passed, Inaki and Storm learnt much. Aguirre’s knowledge of animals and wisdom took the breath away. By the passing of the seventh moon, Storm could seek out game, attack on command and track man or beast. Aguirre taught the boy the art of concealment, the most vulnerable parts of the human body and how to attack from behind or in front. Finally, he began weapon training. Particular attention was given to the short-handle, double-headed throwing axe and the use of the bow. Each day hours would be spent in practice with this weapon until the boy was extremely proficient. He learnt not only its use, but also how to make arrows; which arrowhead was best suited for each purpose and how to make his own bow. It soon became his favourite weapon. The only weapon that he had no need to practice with was the sling-shot, since every boy from a young age was well accustomed with this, the simplest of weapons.

After he had left, Inaki’s mother had talked to as many people as she could find who knew Aguirre. She soon learnt that he had been a fisherman and a mercenary. He was highly regarded and some spoke of him with fear. It soon became clear to his mother that he was with one of the greatest living legends of the time and she was pleased.

Inaki had learnt from his uncle not to ask superfluous question under instruction, unless he did not understand. He showed the respect that a pupil gives to a tutor and did not ask any questions that were unimportant. However, as time passed, the relationship between tutor and pupil became closer and Inaki felt confident enough to ask some searching questions. Why, for instance, did his dogs not herd the sheep? Aguirre knew exactly what he meant but he played with his pupil.

“What do you mean?” he responded.

“Well, they don’t walk behind the sheep, but amongst them,” was the reply.

“That’s because, like most humans they are totally confused,” said Aguirre laughing.

“Please be serious,” Inaki pleaded.

“Very well,” said Aguirre, clearing his throat he began.

“As pups they are brought up with the sheep and they think they are sheep. It is not as stupid as it sounds, if you think about it. When the wolves attack they don’t often see the dogs until it is too late, because they are concealed amongst the sheep, and the dogs think they are protecting their own kind.”

That simple question, like simple questions sometimes do, led Aguirre into his own personal philosophy. As the great man’s soul took flight, he soared over a number of wide-ranging subjects.

He began with: “They (the dogs) live an illusion, like most men. As Basques we worship nature, plants, animals and the great Gods in the heavens, but we are surrounded by men who believe in only one God. To the south we have the Moors with their prophet Muhammad and their God Allah, while of greatest importance in the east and west is the Holy Roman Church and their God, Jesus Christ. Both religions preach that their God came to earth to save man and yet they are mortal enemies! How many have already died in the name of God? Thousands have been killed, and they will torture and kill thousands more in the His name.

Religions are like slow acting poisons that enter the body and minds of men. You cannot reason with them. Once they take hold there is no antidote. Each has a carrier that causes the infection; the Moors have their mullahs, the Christians their monks. Of these the Benedictines are the most dangerous, for not only are they polluters of minds, but Charlemagne’s spies as well. They are sometimes called the Black Monks and it is a name that suits them well. They have already infiltrated Navarra, and look what has happened there! No longer is the Navarrese Basque a free man, some of them have become Christians and what is worse, they now have a king!”

“Is that why we despise them?” asked Inaki.

“Of course, we will never pay homage to a king. We are free men.”

Aguirre continued in full flow, the anger barely contained.

“Why do you think I live alone in the mountains?”

Inaki was about to answer, but kept his mouth tightly shut.

“Amongst all the animals, man is the only one that kills his own just for fun. Give him religion and there is no stopping him. Man is a naturally born killer of his own kind.”

“How will it all end?” asked Inaki in a small, frightened voice.

“Our Gods and reason must prevail. Every man, woman and child must be allowed to live as they wish and be free,” was his simple reply.

Aguirre looked at the boy’s face and saw the despair.

“Look,” he said, clearing the ground with his hand. He picked up a small stick and began to draw. “This is Charlemagne’s empire. He rules France, Germany, most of Italy and here in Spain, a small but significant part near Navarra. Have you heard the tun-tun drums at night?”

“Yes,” said the boy, “but, sometimes I can’t make out what they say.”

“They have not stopped for four nights. They say three things. One is that Hruodlandus, sometimes known as Roland, has been told to gather the largest force that he can in the north. This is where Hruodlandus has power, since he is the Prefect of Brittany and the northern provinces. He is Charlemagne’s nephew and his favourite. He possesses a great sword called Durandel, who all fear and they say that when his battle horn, called Oliphant, sounds the whole earth shakes. The tun-tun drums say that Charlemagne is gathering his forces in the south for battle, but will eventually come north to meet Hruodlandus. However, it is the last part that is most important to us. Charlemagne has come into Spain several times before. His reasons are twofold. First, he wants to destroy the Moslem Empire, his religious mortal enemy. Secondly, he wants to expand his empire. Charlemagne is already the most powerful monarch in the known world and our most deadly enemy, for if he takes Spain, he will conquer us. We are small in number, but we pose a danger to him because we hold these mountains. We are very vulnerable. Our survival is dependent on our enemies remaining at each other’s throats. If one succeeds in defeating the other, we could be lost. The tun-tun says he has made a pact with the Devil. They say that he has been making a pact with the Moslem governor of Barcelona. The governor has promised him Zaragoza amongst other things. If the pact succeeds, it will open the gates of the fortress city of Zaragoza. With a sure base in Spain, he can then move south and north and take the country. We, the Basques, must stop him taking our land.”

“How can we do that?” said Inaki, “he has more men, has he not, and a great and powerful army undefeated in many battles?”

“Yes he has, but we have some things in our favour,” said Aguirre. “First, we hold the mountain passes, and our mountains are like fortresses. Then we have time, it will take Charlemagne a long time before he can gather such a force, equip it, and raise the money to pay them. Finally, he has to send the monks to prepare the way and spy. War will not come this year. Its time has passed. It will take him many lunar months to prepare. He has other enemies to defeat and will not move until he is ready.”

Inaki stared despondently at Aguirre. “When is it the time for war?” he asked in a low voice full of fear.

“Just after spring, during the summer months. Men have to plant and sow before they go to war and have time to come back to reap the harvest. War cannot be pursued at any other time or everybody would starve. Even the great Charlemagne!”

Aguirre stared at the boy, and said: “What do you think all the training has been for?”

“Do we attack them as they come in over the mountains?” said Inaki.

“No, that is not our way. We wait and remain vigilant at our borders.”

Inaki, at the age of thirteen, had found the father he had never had. The year was 772 AD. The snows came late that year. As they stood watching the sheep moving slowly up the mountain, grazing peacefully, Storm lifted his head, sniffed the air and growled.

“Snow?” Aguirre had asked the dog. The dog growled, showing his white interlocking teeth.

“Thank you, oh Hairy One,” said Aguirre. The dog growled once again. The dog had not forgotten the well-aimed stone he had received the night before.

“What did you do that for?” Inaki had said in anger. “You threw him food and then you hit him!”

“He must learn never to accept food, even from those he knows, except from your hand. Otherwise someone will poison him,” was Aguirre’s reply.

“You’re playing with your life,” Inaki said tersely.

“I’m saving his,” he replied sharply.

The next day, as the dog had predicted, they were hit by a snowstorm and they started their descent into the valley below.