Chapter Four

The Raid

It was on a raid, a long time before all this happened, that Inaki would gain his first military experience against the brutal and vicious Visigoths. He had come down from the mountains with Aguirre and into the small town of Urigoiti. They had come from Zeanuri, a small village in the mountains, with his sheep. There, they had met Gortxu and his flock. Aguirre had split his flock into two parts and had entrusted Gortxu with half. In payment he had given Gortxu six lambs. The rest he was going to sell at Urigoiti for food and supplies.

Whilst they were in Zeanuri, something happened that was to make a lasting impression on Inaki. Two women came into the village at dusk. They were dressed in black and had around their necks and wrists, silver jewellery of a beauty and intricacy the like of which he had never seen before. They were leading a packhorse. As they approached Storm’s reaction was totally unexpected. The hair on his back stood on end. His head went down and his ears flattened against his head. He gave the most fearsome growl that Inaki had ever heard. The women stopped. From a pouch one took a piece of dried meat and threw it at the dog. Storm ignored it and retreated towards Inaki standing between his legs, and still making a terrible sound. A village dog ran in quickly, picked up the meat and disappeared. The women moved on.

When they had passed, Inaki enquired: “Who are they?”

“They belong to a sect called the Sisters of the Moon,” replied Gortxu.

From a distance, one of the Sisters looked back and gave a wicked smile. She would remember that boy and that dog. If it were not for the business at hand, she would have liked to have done something about them. Still there would come a time. They had travelled far and they still had some distance to go, and they were under strict orders from their High Priestess, the Mother of the Moon, not to draw attention to themselves. They had to reach Villasuso de Mena before the battle started. The last 200 years of turmoil had provided rich pickings for the followers of the Moon Goddess, the Sisters of the Moon, especially after a battle.

That night over a meal of freshly killed roast lamb, cooked in a baker’s oven with fresh herbs and wine, and with fresh bread, the three friends ate, talked and felt good until the early hours. Inaki, his curiosity running wild, wanted to know all about the strange women. Gortxu proved to be a fountain of information and rumour. He said that the sect they belonged to went back to before the Roman occupation of Spain and their past was lost in time. They always travelled in pairs and they came from the surroundings of the sacred mountain, the Pico de Aneto in the Pyrenees, in the province of Aragon. They were well trained in the use of herbs and cured people of illnesses. They could also set broken bones. For their labours they asked nothing but food and water. They were a devoted sect that worshipped the moon. However, people did not altogether trust them and only accepted their help in dire need.

“Why?” asked Inaki.

“It is rumoured that after they have left a village or town, a week or two later, someone always disappears or dies.” Gortxu replied and remained silent.

“Is that all you know?” Inaki asked.

Aguirre intervened. “There is someone that knows a lot more.”

“Who?” Inaki asked.

“Your uncle,” was the astonishing reply.

Inaki made a mental note to question his uncle closely the next time he saw him.

The next day they rose at dawn, ate a hearty breakfast, said their ‘goodbyes’ and left Gortxu with half the flock. They drove the rest of the sheep out of the village and on to the road to Urigoiti. They were both in high spirits, which seemed to infect the dogs.

As they watched the dogs playing and chasing each other along the roadside, Aguirre remarked: “Do you know what I love about dogs?”

“No,” Inaki replied.

“Two things; their loyalty and their welcome. It does not matter whether they are hungry or cold, or whether you are depressed or angry. Their welcome is always the same… loving and happy.”

“That’s not the case with Storm,” said Inaki.

“That’s because he is half wolf,” said Aguirre, “and that wolf-dog is basically a shy and queer animal, like his master.”

This last comment produced a fit of laughter from Inaki. They had just passed a field. Hidden in the long grass, the village dog lay dead. Its opened mouth was covered in bloody froth and its tongue which was hanging out of its mouth was a deep, dark purple in colour. They passed without noticing it.

At midday they arrived at Urigoiti. The sun was at its height in the sky. They both walked bare-chested with their cloaks and tunics hanging from their bags. The village dogs came out to greet them, boldly barking and yelping. But one look at Storm and the two Pyrenean mountain dogs sent them running for cover. As they entered the village they noticed all the men of fighting age were sat around a Sacred Oak tree. The meeting was in full flow and the men were talking intensely. As they approached an elder got to his feet and came to greet them. He appeared very pleased to see them.

“Greetings!” he said when they were within earshot. “What have we here?”

“Some sheep to trade, oh ancient one,” Aguirre said with a smile.

“May the Gods bless you my son,” said the elder.

They quickly learnt that the village had been raided some nights before and the men were meeting to elect a leader, as was the custom, and plan a reprisal. All their sheep had been taken in the raid and so Aguirre’s arrival was much appreciated. The old man invited them to sit with the men. Aguirre and Inaki sat and listened intently to the proceedings. A man of some forty years, fully bearded and called Anton, seemed to hold the utmost respect. All listened when he spoke. Inaki studied him as he spoke in a low and deep voice. He was well built, with the strong legs of a mountain man. He was saying that there was no point in rushing off without a plan and some intelligence of where the sheep would be taken.

“That’s easy,” shouted a youth, “to the coast for sale and shipment.”

“And which of the seven passes will they take my fine cockerel?” was Anton’s reply, “and how many men do you think they are?”

The youth looked down at his feet, and kept silent. Anton went on without further interruption. He thought that however big the band had been it would get smaller. He gave several reasons for this. Some would return home in order to look after their own livestock and farms, and basically not many men were needed to drive sheep, especially since they would feel safe in their own land. This posed two problems: first, which way were they travelling? Second, how to get in and out of enemy territory safely? The twenty-two men sat in silence, some deep in thought, others trying to think.

“Mark that man well,” whispered Aguirre to Inaki, “he is a natural leader and a thinker.”

“Well,” said Anton, “must I do all the thinking for you?”

“If you have some ideas Anton, it would save time if you would share them with us,” came the mild rebuke from an elder.

“Very well, grandfather. What I propose is this….”

In short, sharp sentences, Anton’s plan was revealed. Two men would pose as traders or shepherds and go to Socueva. From there they would work their way back, trading, towards Morjinar. A fortress town in the mountains, from where he suspected the raiders had come. As they went these men were to gather information and if at anytime they found out exactly were the flocks were, they would return with all speed to an agreed meeting point. The rest, in two groups, so that they could not be easily detected, would move quickly through the mountains travelling mostly at night towards Morjinar. They would meet three days hence to the west of the town. From then on it would depend on what news had been gathered.

“There is only one problem,” he said, “we have nothing to trade, no sheep, no goats, nothing and it is too dangerous to send men without something to trade.”

“Do we accept our losses and starve?” a man asked.

Anton had taken a number of side long glances at Aguirre whilst he had been speaking. Now he addressed him directly.

“What say you, stranger? They’re your sheep. How would you like to double your flock and your profit?”

All heads turned towards Aguirre and the boy. Aguirre looked the man straight in the eyes. Choosing his words carefully, he replied.

“I know of no man that does not like a profit, but first I must consider the risk.”

He paused and continued: “If I agree, I would like to make a number of suggestions to you, and your brothers.”

He had measured the man carefully and had decided that diplomacy was the best way to achieve what he wanted.

“If your requests are reasonable, I’m sure we can come to an understanding,” the elder said.

“First I need four men including myself, the boy and his dog and two others, and I will only take part of my flock.”

“What good are the boy and his dog?” replied Anton.

“You don’t want to know,” replied Aguirre with a small, but cunning smile.

“Agreed,” the elder said, not wishing to prolong negotiations or anger Aguirre.

“Second, you will lead,” Aguirre said, looking Anton squarely in the eyes.

“Choose your men, we march at dusk,” Anton replied abruptly. “One thing further,” he said turning on his heels, “we carry no weapons that can be seen. No shields or spears. Axes and knifes can be hidden and will be hidden. Each man takes a bag full of arrows heads and bow strings. We will make bows and arrows when the time comes,” and he added, “we leave our dead.”

With this he left. At dusk, twenty-two men left the village. About their bodies were hidden bows strings, arrow heads, knives and throwing axes. The flock, three men and the boy followed the valley towards Socueva. The others split into two groups and made for the mountains. They carried food for two weeks, and were in high spirits. Aguirre had chosen two brothers to accompany him and the boy. They moved quickly and quietly through the deeply wooded valley, a stream running on their left. On the first night they camped and cut four staffs from a yew tree. These would be made into bows later on. Afterwards they washed their axes carefully, for every part of the yew is deadly poisonous. Inaki gathered some bark and leaves, together with poisonous herbs, to make poison for the arrows. After travelling for four days and nights they were close to Socueva.

Perched on a ledge on a mountainside, the town looked a formidable sight, with its high walls and towers. Inaki had never seen a town before and the sight filled him with awe. On the plain below, Aguirre left the brothers and the boy to guard the sheep. He left with his two dogs and a few sheep and went into the town, leaving strict instructions that if he was not back in a day they were to move on to the meeting place. It was market day and the town was alive with gossip. A large body of Moors had moved up to the Asturian and Visigoth border. Sheep and cattle had been moved inland and bands of fighting men had moved to meet the threat.

The Gods are with us, Aguirre thought, our greatest worry was to cause interest, but with so much movement we are just part of the general crowd. What good fortune! He made subtle enquiries about Morjinar. The place was overrun with sheep, he was told, and all coming this way. That night Aguirre returned to his small group. He had sold his small flock. Next day they would leave Socueva, and move in all haste to Morjinar and the meeting place. After two days and nights they arrived. He sent Inaki forward with Storm. The wolf-dog would warn the boy before any harm could befall him from the sentries. Having located the Basques, Inaki led his friends to them. That night they made their plans after carefully locating the sheep.

Most of the sheep were moved into the town at night, but there was so many of them that a large flock was left outside the walls under heavy guard. At dusk they would attack, driving off as many as they could and killing all the guards on the north side. A small number of their group would move ahead of the flock clearing the way and finding a suitable place for ambush. Aguirre, Inaki, the dogs and the two brothers would keep the flock on the move. The main group would fight a rearguard action, to slow down any pursuers, until they found a suitable place to set an ambush. They sharpened axes and knives, ate a cold meal and waited. At dusk Anton with ten men moved forward down the mountain. The others followed at a safe distance.

The guards had their backs to the oncoming onslaught. Watching the sheep, they had no idea of what hit them. Four fell at ten paces with axes in their backs. The others fled. The dogs were sent in splitting the sheep in two. Storm, ignoring the sheep, jumped on the back of the slowest man, knocking him to the ground, then turning he ripped out the back of the man’s neck. Inaki called him back and ran behind the sheep. Over the brow of the hill they went up the mountainside, passing the main body of Basques, axes poised in hands. The guards, thinking that the intruders had taken flight, regrouped and gave chase. As they came over the brow of the hill a hail of axes and stones hit them, followed by the Basques, their favourite long knives in hand. The fighting was short and furious. All the Visigoths lay dead or dying. The Basques had lost one man, killed by a well-aimed spear. As they ran, they fell into formation. A small band of Basques at the front; Inaki, Aguirre, the dogs and sheep in the middle, with the main body behind. By dawn they were well into the mountains, but they did not rest. They kept moving.

At dawn the next day, a group of twenty mounted Visigoths and eighty on foot gave chase. The mounted men reached the Basques within two days. Their main force was a three days’ march behind. Anton had placed one of his men behind them to give warning of any followers. This young Basque warrior saw the horsemen coming from a distance and quickly came back to give the alarm. This gave Anton time to prepare for their arrival. He chose a narrow gully with a steep hillside at one end. He made the men dig several holes in the ground which were as deep as the length of a man’s leg and as wide as an arms length. When they had been dug he got the men to cover them with sticks and grass. He hid a few men near the holes, which were covered with grass. He then placed the main body of his men on the side of the hill, hidden behind brushes and rocks. The flock was moved some distance away, at the far end of the gully and up a sloping mountainside, and in a direct line with the holes. He let the sheep graze on the mountainside, guarded by only Inaki, Aguirre and the dogs. When the Visigoths arrived and saw the sheep, lightly guarded, they charged without hesitation down the gully at full gallop towards them.

The first horse fell into one of the holes dug by the Basques, unseating his rider and breaking his leg. As they passed, the hidden Basques sprang out. Axes flew and the air was filled with a flurry of arrows. Six riders fell. The men on the hillside charged, yelling their war cries. Axes and arrows flew through the air again and more riders fell dead or wounded. Inaki, at the back of the sheep, watched terrified as four mounted men broke through and came charging towards him; spears lowered at the ready. Aguirre moved to his side. The riders were 500 paces from them and approaching fast.

“Remember what I’ve taught you. They are only targets not men. Take a deep breath and aim well. Take hold of your axe firmly and put your knife in your mouth.”

Aguirre and the boy stood in a line a few paces apart. The horsemen came on with spears lowered. At thirty paces Aguirre sent his dogs in. They came in from behind the horsemen and dismounted two. Storm sprang on a fallen man and ripped his throat out. The horsemen came on. The boy picked his target and threw his axe. The horseman lifted his shield and the axe head buried itself in it. Inaki instinctively threw himself to the ground. The horseman passed over him and turned his horse around and charged. Inaki stood, took his knife from his mouth and threw. In his haste his aim was low. The knife buried itself in the horse’s chest. The horse fell and the rider came over the top, breaking his neck as he hit the ground. The remaining horseman fled.

“Never seen that before,” Aguirre said slapping him on the back.

Inaki was violently sick. Storm approached his master, his mouth covered in blood. Inaki was sick again. Never in his life had he felt such fear or elation. It took a long time before he could stop shaking and compose himself. He would never be the same again. He had killed a man.

As the rest of the Basques approached, Aguirre turned, raised his battle axe and said: “Every Basque has to perform an act of valour before he can be called a warrior. I call you all to witness that Inaki Etxebarria has performed just such an act and he is a slayer of our enemies. From hence forth he shall be called a warrior. Does anyone dispute the claim?”

The all Basques shouted “no” followed by a cheer.

“We must develop a better way to deal with cavalry,” Aguirre said to Anton.

“Agreed,” said Anton, “the Moorish cavalry are much better.”

“So are the Franks and they are coming our way. They would not have taken the bait so easily. They would have held their charge and waited for their foot soldiers, shadowing us until they arrived.”

“So you have heard the tun-tun drums as well?”

“Oh, yes. Now let us hurry back, Anton.”

Anton gave the order to kill the wounded and then he sent one of his young warriors off to Urigoiti, at a run, to tell them they were returning with the sheep. Anton needed men at the border, if they were to return safely home. They would not rest until they reached their homeland but their speed would depend on how quickly they could drive the sheep.