Chapter Twenty

The High Priestess of the Moon

Early on a bright winter’s morning the small party of Basque warriors headed for Caulerets, a town in the province of Basse Navarre, in the Hautes Pyrenees. With them they had two pottoka ponies with several days’ supply of food. The ten men of Zabala’s village were fully armed. Even though in the mountains they were safe from the Franks, there was always the danger of brigands. Winter in these mountains would keep some of their enemies at bay, but there was always the risk of an attack by wolves or a scavenging party of men. The mood of the party was sombre and purposeful. These were determined men and well used to the hardships the journey would entail. It took them several days to reach Caulerets. Zumalacarrequi had not been seen or heard of. After resting and replenishing their supplies they pressed on south for days but still there was no news of Zumalacarrequi. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. The men were beginning to get tired of searching and the further they wandered away from their homes the more restless they became.

Talk of abandoning the search was becoming more and more open and the complaints became endless. One night Zabala said to Inaki:

“The men are tired of the cold and the searching. We will have to turn for home.” Inaki’s face turned red. He exploded with anger. “What sort of men have you brought with you, that a little cold turns them into children?”

Inaki’s words stung Zabala. His face turned as white as the snow. He was having difficulty controlling himself. He clenched his fists and with remarkable composure answered: “These men fought at Roncesvalles. I didn’t hear you complain then. They have travelled with you through the worst snow in many winters and they have families to look after and this is the way you show your gratitude.”

Inaki looked at his feet. “I know, I know, Zabala. I can do nothing if they want to turn back, but I must go on.”

“Why is it so important that you find Zumalacarrequi?”

“Oh, for many reasons. If he has news of Charlemagne then we must get it back to our people. It will be harder to stop him a second time and we will need all the warning we can get. It was his plan that stopped him the first time. He is probably our best military mind. We can’t afford to lose him. I know and feel that his life is in danger.”

“How do you know it is?”

“It would take too long to explain, but believe me, it is.”

“I have no doubt it is, if you say so, but my men will take some persuading.”

Inaki smiled. “Will they not go on a little longer for the sake of one of their countrymen?”

“No,” said Zabala. “They are tired and miss their families. However, there is a slim chance that if you set a very short time limit to this search, they might be pushed a little further. I urge you to set one, Inaki, and I will see what I can do.”

Inaki thought hard. “Will they come with us as far as Arnequy?”

“I don’t know, but I will ask them.”

Zabala managed, somehow, to get half the men to agree. They would go as far as Arnequy and then turn back. The rest turned for home. The few that remained set off through the snow. Six days later they reached the village and Inaki had his first piece of luck. Zumalacarrequi had been there, but he had moved on to Archurieta. Archurieta was a day’s march from Arnequy. Reluctantly, the men agreed to go there. At Archurieta they learnt that Zumalacarrequi had been there some time ago, and had moved on. The men would go no further.

That night Inaki and Zabala had a talk.

“I’m sure he is around here somewhere,” said Inaki. “I can feel it. But what would he want here, Zabala?”

“We’re only a day’s march from Roncesvalles,” said Zabala. “There’s a lot of movement through that pass between France and Spain. Most of it passes through this village.”

“He must have something of importance here then.”

“Yes, but what?” said Zabala.

“See if you and your men can find out who passes through the village regularly, Zabala. It may give us a clue as to what Zumalacarrequi was interested in and tell them to use discretion. There maybe others watching what we do.”

The next day Zabala had some news.

“At this time, there are few travellers,” he said. “The only regular visitors are the monks from the monastery near Roncesvalles.”

“What sort of monks?” asked Inaki.

“Black Monks, the Benedictines,” Zabala replied.

“Charlemagne’s spies and messengers,” Inaki exclaimed. “There’s our answer. Zumalacarrequi is near Roncesvalles.”

“One thing more. Some women have been through here. Going south they were. Some sort of religious sect. Going to a new home, they say. The people here didn’t much like them.”

Inaki went pale. “The Sisters,” he whispered. “We are too late, Zabala.” Inaki’s eyes were full of tears. Thoughts were chasing themselves through his mind. That evil, contemptible combination had surfaced again. The Black Monks and the Sisters. Would he never be rid of them? Had he been drawn into a trap? Was the spirit of Isaac seeking his death? It blamed him for Isaac: It would kill him. His mind was in turmoil. He felt the despair of a drowning man.

“You can’t be sure. There is always hope,” said Zabala, not knowing what was going through Inaki’s mind, only that he appeared in deep distress.

Inaki made an enormous effort to gain control of himself, but he couldn’t. He was gripped by fear. He felt guilty for Isaac’s death. He felt alone, surrounded by dark and evil forces. He had nowhere to hide. The snow made things worse and added to his fear and troubled mind. It did not offer any cover where he could hide. He was gripped by panic and began to shake uncontrollably. Demons chased each other through his head. Zabala thought he was cold and threw another log on the fire.

Aize, sensing her master’s discomfort, pushed her large head under his arm and rested it on his knee. Inaki’s arm laid limply on it. Gradually that simple action brought Inaki to his senses. He looked down at the enormously imposing head and thought, she has sensed my troubled thoughts and she has let me know that she will protect me. He looked at her jaws and thought that nothing could escape. The speed and stealth was amazing in a dog her size and if anything she was even more cunning in attack than Storm had been. The thought brought him comfort and relief. Aize could take care of the Sisters on her own. Was he a child? Where there is a problem therein lies the solution. He even began to have good thoughts about the snow. You can’t move an army in snow and horses are useless in it. You can see your enemy coming and track him in it. What are you giving yourself a fright for, fool? The panic was over. He had a final thought for good measure: heavily-armed men can’t chase you up mountains. His confidence and humour restored, Inaki gave Zabala an inane smile.

“Let’s go and find him.”

*

Archurieta was a typical Pyrenean Basque village of the area. The houses contained whole families and the large buildings were made up of a stone ground floor in which the animals were kept. The rest of the building was of wood. Above the square ground floor were the living quarters; these were reached by stone stairs, leading to a balcony that went across the front of the building. Inside the second floor was a large room with an enormous fireplace. Off this room were smaller bedrooms and storerooms. The roofs were made of large oak timbers, covered by sods of growing grass. All the ten houses of the village were surrounded by a stockade and outside the stockade there was a pasture. Outside the houses were a number of haysacks, built round a central pole. The houses provided a warm secure home in winter and were light and airy in summer. The animals therein were safe and well guarded and provided a constant supply of food. Each village was self-sufficient and could defend itself against wild animals and intruders. Amongst the Basques there was a tradition of hospitality and the burden of quartering the men had been shared amongst the villagers who were all inter-related. Inaki and Zabala went from house to house gathering the men. A normal house would contain a husband and wife and children. Many households had grandparents living with them. Others contained unmarried uncles and aunts. Their impenetrable language and close-knit communities meant that each Basque could be identified with a place or village as soon as he or she gave their name and would be made welcome wherever they travelled within the country.

As they moved around the village the men bought food for their journey and even extra clothing. At one house a man asked where they were going.

Inaki told him that they were looking for a friend. They thought he would be near the Roncesvalles pass.

“If that’s the case,” said the man, “you will probably find him in the hut we use in summer, when we take the sheep up to the high pastures.”

“Is it near the monastery?” asked Inaki.

“Overlooks it across the valley and the pass,” the man said.

“Can you give us directions?” asked Zabala.

“Can’t miss it,” the man said. “See that mountain in front of you. It’s near the summit, on a small plateau, on this side. It will take you about a day to reach it. If the weather holds off.”

They set off. It was turning dark and snowing before they reached the hut which was a stone building with a turf roof. It was just large enough for four men. Aize warned Inaki that someone was in the hut. Inaki entered the hut, sword drawn. Inside they found Zumalacarrequi. He was laid on a small pallet covered by a sheepskin. A small fire burned in the fireplace. He was gravely ill. Beside him on the ground there knelt a girl dressed all in black, with silver jewellery around her neck and arms. She looked like a vulture waiting for its meal. She was comely to look at and smiled as Inaki entered. Aize’s hair stood on end and she gave a deep long growl. She would not approach or move but continued to growl. Inaki looked at the girl and recognised her instantly as the High Priestess of the Sisters. He moved towards her and she stood up. From the corner of his eye he caught the glimmer of metal. He extended his sword and as she lunged towards him, dagger held low in her right hand, he plunged his sword into her. He stood back and let go of the sword. She fell forward to the floor, with a look of surprise on her face. The blade pushed through her body as she hit the ground. The men came in behind him, shocked by what he had done and stood around the body. They looked at Inaki as if to say, “what on earth have you done?”

Inaki spoke. “No-one is to touch the body. Keep away from it.” The men silently did as they were bid.

He moved to Zumalacarrequi and quickly got to work, building up the fire and preparing some broth. When Zumalacarrequi had recovered enough to talk he had a strange tale to tell. As he talked in a weak voice, Inaki examined his hands and feet. Zumalacarrequi thought the numbness was due to the cold, but Inaki knew better. Zumalacarrequi had heard news from the shepherds of Navarra that Charlemagne planned a return and the news had led him to Roncesvalles. He had waited in the hut for several weeks and nothing had happened. He had hoped to question travellers, moving from France to Spain and passing through Roncesvalles, but none had come. Then a few days ago, he spotted the Sisters coming out of the pass. They had camped once they had left the pass. He had gone down behind them to get closer and see what they were up to.

Between the Sisters and the village rose a forest, from which the village gathered timber for their fires. Zumalacarrequi had taken shelter in the forest and watched. Soon a small group of three left the main body of Sisters and made for the monastery. After they had visited it, Zumalacarrequi had seized his chance and followed them. About 3,000 paces from the monastery he had confronted the three. He was immediately attacked and had killed two. The third was young girl who he could not bring himself to kill, but had taken prisoner. He had brought her back to the hut in order to question her. She had not resisted and answered all his questions as if it did not matter: as if she had some strange insight into the future. She had confirmed that Charlemagne was returning: not in the north, but in the south. What was more, a force was coming with him to destroy the Sisters, so they were moving to the north countries. The day before Inaki and the men had arrived he had started to feel very ill and he was certain the girl was about to kill him, but could do nothing to prevent her. His strength had ebbed away.

Zumalacarrequi finished his tale with: “I think you arrived just in time. She was just telling me how she was looking forward to crushing my skull with a rock and eating my brains.”

“Rest and sleep now. You are safe and in good hands,” said Inaki. He turned to the men.

“You must not touch the body of the girl. She is covered in poison and a single touch will kill. Leave her where she is. We will deal with her in the morning.”

When Zumalacarrequi looked as if he was asleep, Zabala approached Inaki who was sat before the fire.

“Is there anything you can do for him?”

Inaki shrugged his shoulders. “If it were summer perhaps, but in winter there are no herbs with which to treat him. I can do nothing.”

“He will die then?” said Zabala.

“Yes.”

Zabala thought for a moment. “Inaki, I don’t want to offend you, but would you let others try to save him?”

“You have someone in mind?”

“The monks at the monastery.”

“What! Are you mad?”

“Listen, Inaki, there is nothing you can do for him. You have said so yourself. The monks are wise in the ways of medicine. Is it not possible that they could do something? Isn’t it worth a try? What have we to lose? Is it a question of pride or what?”

“No!” said Inaki vehemently.

At that moment the old man spoke. He had heard every word they had spoken about him.

“If I am to die then let me do one more thing before I go.”

“What do you want to do?” asked Inaki gently.

“I want to plant the idea in our enemies’ minds that we are stronger and more dangerous than they ever imagined. If I do that, my life will have been fulfilled. One thing more, Ludovic has been sent with an army to Barcelona. Charlemagne will have his foothold in Spain. He will move northwards from there or he will come here.”

For the rest of the night they listened intently to the old man’s plan. The next day they gathered their belongings and lifted Zumalacarrequi on the pallet down the mountain towards the monastery. Inaki set fire to the hut and the evil inside it as they left. At dusk they reached the monastery. They left Zumalacarrequi at the door. They moved away and threw rocks at the great door and retired into the forest behind the monastery. They watched as the monks came out and took Zumalacarrequi inside. When he was safely inside, Zabala turned to Inaki and said: “We must go home now.”

Inaki replied: “I will stay and watch. If he gets well I will return with Zumalacarrequi.”

The men bade Inaki farewell and left for home. Inaki stayed and waited. He moved into the forest and built a shelter from where he could watch the monastery. On the second day he had the luck to kill a deer and Aize and Inaki feasted on venison that night. They would have food for several days. Some days later he saw the monks come to the edge of the forest and dig a large hole, which they covered with logs and tinder. Next day, they brought a body out of the monastery and placed it upon the great pile of logs over the hole, then the whole thing was set on fire. They waited until the whole fire had collapsed into the hole. After a while, they left it, burning. Inaki came out of his hiding place and performed the rites due to a great warrior. With him, he brought some ivy, which he put on the fire. The ivy would regenerate the spirit and help it to its final resting place. He closed his eyes in silent prayer. As he prayed an orb of deep blue appeared in his mind. It brought him peace and a thought entered his mind.

Inaki returned to the village. To his surprise he found that Zabala was still there. Bad weather had forced him and his men to remain. As they sat on the floor of the house where they were staying, Inaki took in his surroundings and pondered. He took in the familiar smells of sweat, urine and the animals in the stable below. It reassured him. It was like home and suddenly home was where he wanted to be. Zabala interrupted his thoughts.

“What became of the old man? Could they do anything for him?”

Inaki described how the old man’s body had been brought out by the monks, burnt and buried.

“Why did they go to all that trouble of digging a hole in hard frozen ground and then burn him?” asked Zabala.

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. Do you think it’s their custom? Some sort of Christian ritual?”

The two men fell into a thoughtful silence.

“Not their custom. In fact to burn a body is punishable by death under the laws of Charlemagne,” said a voice.

Startled by the voice, the two men looked quickly around the room to see where it had come from. Then in a dark corner of the room they saw an old woman, dressed all in black. Her skin was like brown leather, her eyes, two grey pools in deep hollows, her hair was white. She still had a few of her teeth and was using them on an animal skin; softening it slowly with her remaining teeth.

Inaki cleared his throat. “Could you please explain why you say that?”

“It’s the Ancients’ way.”

Inaki was at a loss and about to open his mouth again when Zabala touched his arm.

“Forgive our ignorance mother,” he began gently, “but we don’t understand. Who are the Ancients?”

“Those who built the fort,” replied the old woman.

“This is going to take longer than her leather work!” whispered Inaki.

“Show respect and patience. The old often hold the keys too many things. Leave this to me,” said Zabala.

Inaki sat back against the wall and folded his arms.

Zabala continued. “Could you tell us where the Ancients come from?”

“Same place as those crows up in the fort.”

Now even Zabala was confused. “Brother, you’re so good,” Inaki said with a smile. He looked at the old woman and said: “Where is this fort you speak of?”

The old woman looked up from her work and with contempt she said, “You should know.” She paused. “You’ve just come from there!”

Inaki gasped: “THE MONESTERY! It’s an ancient fort.”

Zabala joined in, “And the monks are mostly Italians, so the Ancients are Romans and they built the fort?”

Inaki intervened. “The monks turned the fort into a monastery. Yes?”

The old woman nodded. Then she said, “The Romans always used that way of burial for important people or those who they wanted to be left undisturbed and hidden for ever. That monastery is a nest of vipers and spies.”

The two men looked hard at each other. Each was thinking the same thing and knowing that they both could not utter their thoughts. Finally, Inaki broke the silence.

“HE DID IT!” he whispered harshly. “The monks have swallowed his story. They must have believed him and so they had to destroy the body and any trace of him.”

“Yes and so they think we are more in number than we are,” Zabala replied.

Another thought entered Inaki’s mind: one that he did not like. Inaki’s face darkened and his green eyes deepened into two hard green stones. Zabala had not seen this look on his face before, but he had seen it on other men and he knew what it meant.

Zabala chose his words with care and in a low voice said:

“Whatever you feel or are thinking you cannot put these villagers in danger. You must not put them in danger. If anything happened to those monks the village would be burnt to the ground and every man, woman and child put to the sword. You know the Franks would do that?”

He paused and said earnestly: “You must agree with me?”

Inaki nodded.

“Good,” said Zabala. But he was not convinced. “My men and I leave tomorrow. I will not put these good people in any more danger.” Inaki nodded again, but his face had a black expression on it.

“Anyway,” said Zabala, reading his mind, “you have no proof.”

“Then why did they bother to bury him thus and why did he last so long?” Zabala could not answer.

“I leave tomorrow.” With that Zabala got up and left to gather his men.

“I know what you are thinking,” said the old woman in a matter of fact voice. Inaki looked at her. He was taken by surprise by her remark but showed no emotion and said nothing. After a few moments she spoke again, “I had a son. He was strong and brave. Had a wife and child.”

She paused. Inaki said nothing and waited.

“They killed him. Well not directly, but slowly, it was the same.”

Inaki waited again. He knew that sometimes it was better not to probe or ask questions. After a long while, she said: “He was a good man, and a good provider for the family. They took that away for him when they cut off his hands.” This was followed by a long silence.

“He took it for sometime, but in the end he could not stand the helplessness of it all: being spoon-fed like a baby at meal times and not being able to work. He was too proud. Sometime later he took his own life.” She fell silent again.

This time Inaki spoke. “Was it the king’s men that did that to him?”

“He only laughed at them, because they claimed a great victory at Zaragoza.” She paused. “They had come back with nothing; nothing and they claimed a victory!” She spat on the floor. “The Moors had given them a beating and kicked them out of Spain. Lying dogs. What is more, those monks just looked on while they did it. I hate them all. I curse them. May they all die a slow and painful death!”

Inaki sat in silence. He yearned to tell her that it was his people that had defeated the Franks, but he dared not.

She looked at Inaki.

“You will not fear for us. Do you hear me? Do what you will and may the Gods bless you and keep you. Fear not. No one will know.”

She looked straight at him with cold hard eyes full of hate. Inaki knew he could trust her, but said nothing. If you did not know, you could not betray even if you wanted to. Torture was a powerful instrument, especially on the old.