AD NONUM

Gaul, 25 B.C.

The dogs’ muzzles emerged from the dark mist like the sharp tips of silver spears. Their soft fur, as white as the snow that surrounded them, would have meant that they were practically invisible if it hadn’t been for the red eyes that, in the absence of light, seemed to float in the air like glowing rubies.

“I can see at least ten of them,” whispered Dryantilla.

“I hear many more,” replied Jago. “And… something else.”

Around the dogs’ necks were shiny iron collars with sharp spikes, attached to a long chain of gigantic links that jingled as they were rattled by the beasts’ movements.

The chains all flowed together to a point which was concealed by the darkness. From that point, a gigantic hand with thick hairy fingers suddenly emerged. On its wrist a bronze bracelet as large in diameter as the mouth of a pitcher and studded with obsidian pearls gleamed.

“It’s…”

“Yes,” the blind man nodded. “I sense him.”

Baring its sparse black teeth, the giant came out of the darkness and with a powerful yank tugged at the chains. The dogs leapt backwards and bared their fangs, then turned their attention back to their prey.

“Arawn,” said the blind man, making a sort of bow. “I should have imagined that you had something to do with this… performance.”

The girl watched his movements curiously: as clumsy as he was in the real world, so he became bold in the land of the dead. Almost as if it were his true dimension.

The giant advanced again. With one hand he held onto the dogs while in the other he grasped a hammer of disproportionate size.

“You were warned,” he grunted with a grimace. Two ears the same colour as the eyes of the dogs and as pointed as knife blades cast crimson shadows on the white snow.

“Yes, I know,” Jago replied, spreading his arms, “but until now they had been used to paying a fee to pass. The whims of the gods are often incomprehensible to human minds.”

“Whims?” thundered Arawn. “Mine are not whims. This land is mine. The people who live in it are mine.”

“Forgive me, lord of Arawn, but I cannot answer for…”

“They are with you,” the giant shouted. “You are responsible, and you will answer for their foolishness.”

“You are right, but it has already happened. Can we not avoid unpleasantness? At least for this time.”

Arawn loosened his grip on the chains and the dogs immediately leapt towards, the fangs of the ferocious beasts stopping inches from the blind man’s face when the giant grasped the chains tightly once more. The girl behind him screamed and took a couple of steps backwards, slipping on the snow and falling backwards. The blind man stood motionless as his lips curved in the vague semblance of a smile.

“By the gods,” said Dryantilla, slapping at the snow with her hands. “I’d already seen it happen, but it had the same damned effect on me anyway.”

“Silence, Sibyl,” snapped the giant. “This is a matter for men.”

The woman jumped to her feet.

“I am a seer, not one who foretells disasters.”

The blind man held out an arm to silence her.

“You’re right, Arawn,” he admitted. “This is a matter for men. So tell me what it is you want to let us through.”

“The Salassi are a respectful people,” said the giant, driving the hammer into the snow as if it were a staff, “who honour me with their attention and… their sacrifices.”

“We know that.”

“And they do not deserve your contempt. The contempt of a people that seeks new gods every day, uses them for their own advantage and, when needed, turns its back on them, exiles them and replaces them with the same carelessness with which you might crush an ant.”

“You are quite right”.

“You have no respect for your gods and believe that other peoples treat theirs in the same way.” The giant shook his head in disgust.

“Listen,” said the blind man, his eyes moving beneath their half-closed lids, “we have an appointment that we cannot miss. It is night and it’s cold. Perhaps we can have this discussion at another time. I will come back to see you if…”

The giant grabbed his hammer again and hurled it at his interlocutor. “Don’t you dare make fun of me!” he roared, making the surrounding mountains tremble. The blind man raised the staff with which he supported himself and uttered a word that not even the girl at his side understood. With a loud thud, the hammer struck an invisible wall and fell to the snow.

“Impressive,” she whispered.

“And this time you didn’t flinch. You are improving.”

“There’s a certain difference between a beast and an inanimate object,” replied Dryantilla angrily.

“There is,” the blind man admitted. “In fact, a hammer is much more predictable than a pack of dogs. But prepare yourself.”

The girl frowned in horror.

“No!”

The giant opened his hand like a blossoming flower and released the chains. Free now from all constraints, the dogs raced like some maddened horde towards the blind man and the girl. Instinctively, she covered her face. Just as instinctively, Jago lowered his hood.

One of the dogs leapt, its open jaws and sharp teeth clearly indicating what its intentions were. But the beast encountered an unexpected obstacle, and when it found itself with its paws in the air almost fifty feet from where it had imagined landing, an almost human expression of astonishment appeared on its animal muzzle.

The black-skinned man who had suddenly appeared between the animals and their prey lowered the shield he had used to hurl the dog away and clenched his right fist. He wore a long robe made of sewn-together scraps of fur of different origins on top of a pair of thick wool breeches which could have covered the buttocks of at least two average-sized men, but which could barely contain his contracted muscles. Surrounded by a beard in the shape of a chinstrap, his features testified to his African origins.

“So the manipulator of metals has heard the crowing of the cock,” announced Jago.

The dark-skinned colossus paid him no heed. With a distracted gesture of his index finger he caused a movement in the air that sent another dog flying. The beast flailed and then fell heavily to the ground with a yelp.

“I love iron collars.”