Chapter 3.

The Plan is Hatched.

Summer 74AD.

 

Calach paced the short length of the tent as he roared at his father. “What do you mean, they didn’t agree? On such an issue as this, they have to agree! They have to agree! Without the clans acting together, the Romans will crush us one by one.”

“Son,” said Ranald quietly, “You need to remember who you’re talking to.”

Calach’s mind was in absolute chaos.

Oh, by Lugh, am I shouting?

“Son, some o’ the clan chiefs will need time to come to terms with the thought o’ the clans fighting together.”

“By saying ‘some’, you mean you!” Calach screamed.

After his outburst, he squeezed his eyes tightly.

I’ve gone too far this time.

Calach watched as Ranald made quieting motions with his hands. In his rage, he had missed the early signs of his father’s temper.

I must learn to read people better.

Ranald took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Son, it’ll be a long time before the Romans get to our lands, that is if they get here at a’. I’m chief now an’ I say we wait. If the Romans come here in a couple o’ summers, I’ll be chief then too, an’ I’ll decide then what to do.” Calach’s face twisted with frustration. “Maybe a’ we need is time to adjust to what the dhruids were saying.”

“We might not have any time.” Calach interrupted. “That’s what I’m trying to say! The dhruids seem pretty determined that the Romans will invade Selgove and Votadin lands in the next few summers.”

“Then why is it so important for us; the Caledon clan, to act now?”

“What?”

Calach stalled. He suddenly knew that he was walking into a trap.

Ranald continued. “Why’s it so important to you to defend the southern clans now? Caledon men are needed in the Caledon fields whatever Kheltine and the dhruids think. In the next few summers the fields need to be tended, the beasts still need to be slaughtered for winter food.” Calach breathed slowly. He was pleased that his father had not pursued his initial point. He determined to make an attempt to direct the conversation. “Do you want your own clan to go without because our men patrol the south? You should be making your own clan the priority.” Ranald’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Not the flatlanders!”

By his silence, Calach tried to let Ranald know he was hitting home. It was time to try another direction, but Ranald took the lead.

“Is this the kind o’ nonsense that Ma’damar’s brat has been filling your head wi’?”

He’s seen me wi Finlass!

“No one’s been filling my head wi’ anything!” Calach did not realize he was screaming again.

Calach wondered if his father had seen him on the moor that morning or at their more secretive venue the night before. He was never as out of his depth as he was now, and he was beginning to grasp it.

I’ve got to hold myself together, or I’ll spill the whole thing in anger!

“Da’,” said Calach, quieter now. “All I’m saying is that we might not have much time to prepare for the Roman’s attack.”

“Is that it? I thought you were putting other clans before your own?” Ranald’s smile took any potential sting out of the remarks. “Is that what Ma’damar’s brat has been telling you?”

“Whatever Finlass an’ I talked about, you can believe me that I was not being influenced against the best interests of my own clan.”

“I’m glad to hear it son.”

Oh no, now he’s going to start being condescending.

There was a pause, and Calach wondered if Ranald would press the question of what Finlass and Calach did talk about, then he apparently decided against it.

“The Romans have to fight through the flatlands first!” Ranald sat down on his bunk and smiled. “That’ll give us plenty time!”

Calach returned the smile, but it was forced. He was glad that the violence in the discussion was gone. Ranald had rattled him, and Calach had reacted badly.

Ranald sat for a few moments looking at him. “What was made more clear in the ‘great gaither’ today, when you were lying in the grass talking wi’ your new ‘friends’, is that all the clans need time to adjust to any o’ the ideas the dhruids were proposing. It’ll take time son, lots of time.”

So he was told about the four of us meeting on the hillside. Maybe no-one saw us last night.

He’s calling me “son” too often. He’s trying to patronize me, but at least I recognize it now. Lugh! I need to get better at this.

Calach blinked nervously, trying to keep his temper in check.

The chief continued. “It’s the concept o’ one overall commander that was always going to be the stumbling block. That’s the hardest thing to come to terms wi’. We a’ agree that only one can have the ultimate authority; but who would it be? It would be over my dead body that Ma’damar or his kin would lead clan Caledon into battle. If any o’ my clan’s blood is spilt, it’ll be for the defense o’ our lands, an’ it’ll be under my command an’ no other.”

“Son, you’re a confused young man who’s trying to understand concepts too complex for now. Maybe I should take that as a failure on my part. Maybe it was time to include you in the clan’s council a long time ago. Maybe I’ve failed to educate you properly; a talk wi’ Sewell about clan politics an’ suchlike might not go amiss.”

“Which o’ the clan chiefs didn’t agree?” Calach asked.

He watched as the quickly changed subject obviously took his father by surprise. Calach was continuing before Ranald could answer.

“Tell me who they were Da, an’ I’ll try to convince them. I’ll talk to them in their own camps. I’ll travel the length an’ breadth o’ the Norlands.” Calach was pacing back and forth in the small tent, his head brushed the ceiling as he passed the middle each time.

Ranald must have seen the passion which his son felt for the subject, because before Calach knew, Ranald had stood up and stopped him, placing both hands on Calach’s shoulders.

“Most o’ the clans disagreed, son, an’ there were a few who were undecided; like me. Only four out o’ a’ the clans actually voted for clan unification.”

“Only four?”

Only four out of seventeen?

“Aye, but that wasn’t the reason why the meeting eventually broke down.”

Calach was not listening.

Only four out of seventeen.

“Did you vote for it?” Shouted Calach, ignoring Ranald’s last statement.

“No son, I didn’t.” Ranald said abruptly. “But that wasn’t why the meeting eventually broke down.” Persevered Ranald.

“You didn’t vote for the union?” Calach’s voice began to rise again. “I don’t understand you. How in Kernos name.....Argh!” Calach spat on the grass.

Although he realized himself that he was losing his temper again, he could not control himself.

“Da! Could you no see how this union would make pure sense? Surely the dhruids went through the reasons why a union was best for a’ o’ us?”

“Aye lad, they did.”

“Then even after a’ you said about clan loyalty I can’t see any reason why you could’ve disagreed wi’ the dhruid’s reasoning.” Calach was beginning to shout again.

“Whoa, laddie!” Ranald roared. “Have you not heard anything that I’ve said?” Ranald took two paces towards Calach till they stood face to face, their chests almost touching. “Enough!” Ranald sprayed his son’s face with spittle. “One; I’m chief o’ this clan an’ the day you forget it will be a sore day for you!” He brandished a finger to emphasize his point.

“Two!” A second finger was raised, almost touching Calach’s face. “Every clan is smaller than ours, so we would’ve had the most men on the battlefield at any time. We would have the most casualties. We would have had the most dead. Son, I don’t think you’ve thought it this far through! If we’ve more dead, then it makes us weaker than any other, an’ there’s a few who would fight us for the land we hold!”

Ranald was screaming now, his control lost. For the first time in the exchange, Calach felt fear grip him. He raised both hands in a defensive posture.

“Three; if we defended the flatlands wi’ the rest o’ the clans an’ were defeated, the other clans would have scattered, leaving us to defend the Caledon heartland on our own. We’d be throwing our land away!”

Ranald’s three upraised fingers now became four, shaking with emotion.

“Four, an’ most important. If any o’ that happened... If any o’ that befell our clan.... If I agreed to a’ that the dhruids had asked..... I’d be the one who would have to tell your mother! You know how she feels about her land an’ her family. Those were the reasons I didn’t vote for the union!” Ranald roared.

“But at least we’d have a better chance o’ getting rid o’ the Romans!” Calach shouted back.

“But Calach, this is only supposition! We’re arguing about possibilities! The Romans have to come here first! Into the Norlands! What possible reason have they got to come up here?”

“But Da’, the Romans are going to come. There can be nothing surer, they aren’t going to sit where they are; they never have so far!”

“An’ you’ve found this out by sitting wi’ your cronies on a hillside, have you?” Ranald stuck his thumbs in his belt and sneered at his son. “You young pups know better than the chief’s an’ the dhruids put together!”

Calach shook his head, it seemed that Ranald was not listening to any of his reasoning.

“Calach! it makes me mad to think that M’damar’s pup has turned my own son against me in so short a time.”

“Finlass has nothing to do with this! This is me talking!”

Ranald punctuated his next point by a stabbing finger blow to Calach’s upper chest.

“You stand there an’ say ‘you’re sure’ the Romans are coming.” Another finger stab. “But the truth is that you’re not sure at all! Listen Calach, the Caledon clan would have been the horse that pulls the plough!” He stabbed his own chest as he mentioned the clan. “Caledon men would have done a’ the work, an’ got a’ the beatings, an’ been a broken, battered, weakened force for our pains. I wasn’t about to put my Caledon clan through that!”

“How about Ma’damar?” Calach said. “How did he vote? Surely he must have voted, surely he must see that we can’t stand against the Romans on our own?”

The mention of Ma’damar’s name was like a dark cloud blowing across Ranald’s face. The chief finally lost control.

“Aarghh!” with a lightening back-handed blow he slapped Calach hard across the face. As he crumpled back onto the cot, Calach cringed from another offered blow.

“I’ll talk no more about a bastard like Ma’damar in my presence.” He said, his finger extended, trembling. “I’m sick to my back teeth explaining myself to anybody, never mind a whelp like you. I saw you an’ Ma’damar’s eldest sitting together. You mark my words, nothing good will come out of any dealings wi’ the Meatae. I’m saying nothing else, they’re my final words!” Ranald strode out of the tent without a backward glance, leaving the covering flap lying on top of the tent.

“A horse!” Calach heard his father cry, his ears still ringing from the blow, and listened as the assembled sentries scurried to saddle one for him.

He heard Sewell and his father exchange words, then Ranald’s raised; “I cannot!”

Within moments Calach could hear a horse, hard ridden out of the camp.

Calach still sprawled half on the floor, half on the bed, shaking. It had been a long time since his father had resorted to hitting him, and that was just chastisement. This time had been full force and as Calach fought back tears, he knew that the relationship between himself and his father had changed forever.

 

~ ~ ~

 

High on a nearby hill, close enough to see the fires of the camp, but far enough away to miss the random patrolling sentries, the lone figure sat. He had lain all day, concealed and safe. Now he welcomed the opportunity to stretch his aching bones. He chewed on hard dried quail and looked longingly at the cooking fires of the camp.

He had even considered sneaking back into the camp for some decent food, but had quickly decided against it.

Too many people. Too many sentries. Too many dhruids. I got away with it once, maybe I won’t be as lucky the next time.

Resignedly, he turned his attention to the camp and pulled his blanket closer, glad of the warmth. It was going to be another long, cold night.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Calach lay in the tent nursing his jaw in contemplation of the day’s events until the horn sounded for the evening meal, leaving him with yet another dilemma. With Ranald’s leaving, he was now the senior Caledonii in the camp, and his rightful place should be with the other chiefs at the first sitting of dinner. The only thought which restrained him from joining the meal was, if Ranald came back early, it could reignite the argument. After his earlier eruption it may cause an embarrassing scene in front of the rest of the chiefs. In the end, the decision was taken for him when Aysar pushed his head through the flap of the door. “Calach?”

“Aye, come in Aysar.” He sighed, getting up.

“I’ve a message from Lud Mauchty, the chief o’ the Venicones. He asks if you’ll dine wi’ him.”

“How did that come about?”

“I don’t know, he just asked me when I was putting the food on the table.”

Calach followed his friend out of the tent and let Aysar lead him to Mauchty’s table. As they approached, it became obvious which chief he was being led to. All of the other chiefs were seated round three trestle tables, their heads low in quiet conversation. Mauchty sat dining alone at the other table, his back to the others. He looked up as Calach stood opposite him, then glanced angrily at the other chiefs behind him.

An outcast; and here I am sitting with him; another one.

“It’s not my place to offer the host food at his own table, but will you sit down Calach, an’ eat wi’ me?” The Venicone’s eye’s indicated that Calach should sit, he obviously had something to say.

“Aye, it’ll be my pleasure, Lud Mauchty, but my Da, chief Ranald’s the host, an’ he should be eating wi’ the chiefs, not me.” Calach as he swung his legs over the bench.

Aysar leaned over the table, and set two tankards of beer in front of them, then left quickly.

“You’re already under two misconceptions. Mauchty began. “Your faither’s the host only when he’s in the camp, an’ I know that he’s not. The other is that I’m not due the ‘Lud’ title yet. We’re in the same position, we’re both eldest chief’s sons an’ we’re given no respect from anybody.” He indicated the remaining chiefs behind him.

Calach was starting to bite into a piece of roast pork. “I thought you were acting chief o’ the Venicones?”

“I thought so too until this morning. I found out that I’m about as much o’ a chief as you are. We’re only sitting here because our fathers are away. I’m here only because Gillaine, my faither, is too ill to travel, an’ too reluctant to die. When we agreed that I should come in his place, we both thought that the other chiefs would listen to me as the voice o’ the clan.” He cast a glance over his shoulder then began to eat. “That hasn’t been the case.”

By Lugh. If we can’t do anything but argue amongst ourselves, how can we even think of fighting the Romans together!

Calach picked up a piece of bread and took a small bite, reaching for a tankard.

“Did everyone hear us?”

“Why, you an’ your Da’ are the talk o’ the camp.” Mauchty grinned as he stripped the meat from a chicken leg. “People were trying to look as if they couldn’t hear the two o’ you arguing, but the camp is small, an’ tent walls are thin...”

“For Lugh’s sake!”

“Look on the bright side Calach...”

“There is one?”

“Aye, at least we a’ know where you stand!”

“That’s something at least.”

Then Mauchty leaned over the table and lowered his voice so that only Calach could hear. “Do you really feel so strongly about the Romans? You made a good case for the unification.”

Before answering, Calach chewed his mouthful well, then swallowed hard.

Is there nothing but conspiracy and intrigue here? That’s a’ that seems to have happened!

He took a large swig of the beer, this was not the time of hasty words.

Calach looked over Mauchty’s shoulder and caught two of the chiefs openly staring at him. They were both unknown to him, so he bowed his head slightly and they looked quickly away.

“Well Calach, I asked of you were serious about the Romans.”

All right then, here goes....

“First, Mauchty, we’ve got to assume that the dhruids are telling the truth.”

“Agreed.”

“Then if that’s the case, it’s my belief that if we don’t combine the clan forces together, the Roman armies will march north an’ pick us off one by one. Wi’ the Brigante fallen, the largest o’ the southern tribes, I don’t think we’ve a chance if we don’t fight together. I am pretty certain that the Romans will advance north, but I’ve no proof to substantiate my thoughts except everyone’s opinions o’ the logical progression o’ a conquering army. They can’t leave us here; we’re a threat to them, no matter how peaceful we are at the moment.”

“No one leaves a thorn in their side if they have the means to remove it.”

“Mauchty, if they didn’t see us as a threat, then they would see us as a human resource; slaves for their farms, soldiers for their armies.”

“If you can call them soldiers!” Mauchty snapped. “More like captives! Their tactics after they’ve invaded are to take most o’ the young warriors to fight for them somewhere else; why, half their army here’s made up from such slaves from other lands. They fight in the name o’ Rome to be granted their ‘freedom’ when they’ve fought for twenty years or so.”

“Aye, you can’t call that freedom right enough.” Calach mused. “I don’t relish that fate for myself.”

“Me neither.”

“Anyway. You invited me to eat, Mauchty. What really made you do that?”

“Aye, well brought back to the point, Calach, it’s been a long day.”

“Longer for those o’ us who’ve been up since dawn.”

“Aye, true.” Mauchty nodded. “As far as I was concerned, the ‘great gaither’ was a waste o’ my time. Like I said before, because I’m not the chief yet, the other clan leaders never paid attention to anything that I had to say.”

“But you were here to speak for your clan!” Calach hissed. “You had chief Gillaine’s vote to cast!”

“Aye, but it didn’t do me much good, did it? Every time I argued, just like you did wi’ chief Ranald, one o’ the others would say that I didn’t speak for the clan. They’re frightened o’ change Calach, but what they don’t realize, or won’t face, is that they’re going to let the Romans destroy us as a people.”

“Is that what you think?” Calach ate some more.

“Aye, it is.”

“I’m glad you agree in principle wi’ me. How do you come to your conclusions?” Calach’s food was forgotten now, “Do you know something that the rest o’ us don’t?”

“No, not exactly,” Mauchty stopped and smiled, almost blushing, “I’m going to be honest, if I was speaking about it casually, I would say that I had an intuition. I’d say that I’d been told by the dhruids who’d seen in it the entrails o’ a chicken or something like that. The truth is a bit more weird.” He paused in his narrative whilst struggling with a mouthful of bread and beer. “I had a dream....”

“What?”

“Aye, don’t laugh! I dreamt that the Romans had massacred the whole Venicone clan whilst the rest stood by an’ did nothing. The dream was so vivid, so real, that it stayed wi’ me for days. When word came o’ the ‘gaither’, I pressed at Da’ to take me as his second, then Da’ fell ill. When the time for the ‘great gaither’ came, Da’ said that there was no one else that he was going to allow to represent the clan. I jumped at the chance.”

“So you’ve based the future o’ the clan system on a dream?” Calach spoke quietly, smiling at the shared confession.

“Aye, you could say so. But what do you base your assumptions on? The past tactics o’ an army which is as foreign to us as we are to them? You can’t call any of this accurate.” Mauchty grimaced.

They both slipped into silence, eating from the plates put before them. As the conversation began again, they spoke at length about the Roman threat as they ate their way through the basic meal of soup, pork, bread and cheese. Calach had a little ale to drink, just supping lightly from his tankard.

At last, as the mealtime was drawing to a close and some of the chiefs were drifting away, Calach brought the conversation to a close. “It’s been good to talk to someone who thinks the same as me Mauchty, I hope that we’ll see you soon, an’ give your faither, the chief, our respects when you return home.”

“Thank you Calach, I hope that you an’ your faither sort out your difficulties.”

“Aye I hope so.”

They shook hands and went their separate ways. Mauchty went in search of his bed, Calach to find Finlass.

When he located him however, he was in deep conversation with his father, Ma’damar and two other chiefs. Calach waited in the shadows for a few moments, hoping to catch Finlass’s eye, and was heartened when the Meatae nodded in his direction then motioned to the hillside where they had spoken the night before. Finlass waited for Calach to acknowledge, then turned back to the conversation.

Calach, exhausted as he was, still had one more person to see before moving to the rendezvous with Finlass.

He found Aysar beside the barrels of beer, he was attempting to share the remaining ale equally amongst the sentries.

“Aysar! A moment?” He indicated a vacant table.

They both sat down, and feigning exaggerated tiredness, Calach leaned over the table to talk privately.

“Aysar, this a time o’ big changes, an’ I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Aye, changes are happening here an’ no mistake. Carry on.” Aysar replied.

“Aye, listen. We’ve been friends now for as long as I can remember.”

“Aye.”

“I need to know that I can trust you to do something for me.”

“You’ve just got to name it Calach, you know that!” Aysar leaned closer. “This wouldn’t have anything to do wi’ your conversations wi’ Finlass an’ Mauchty would it?”

How many more people have seen my associations? I’ve been a child in a man’s game. I’m going to have to try harder than this, or the plan will collapse before it starts! If my first journey into clan politics is going to be a success, I’m going to have to more careful than I have been so far.

Calach smiled at his friend’s intuition. “Aye, Aysar, it’s got something to do wi’ Mauchty. An’ I need you to keep quiet. Report back to me.”

“You’ve got it.” Aysar rubbed his hands together exaggeratedly, warming to the task. “What do I have to do?”

“First, I want you to tag along wi’ Mauchty’s party at dawn tomorrow when the gather breaks up. There’ll be two sentries as guides, an’ when you get near the border o’ the two lands, I want you to send the two others back. Make up some excuse to stay wi’ the party till the absolute end o’ the Caledon lands. When you’re alone wi’ Mauchty an’ his party, I want you to tell him that you’ve to travel to his capital wi’ him to learn the route. Tell him that I’ll be coming to meet wi’ him later in the summer. When you’ve been shown the route, come back to Lochery an’ tell only me about it. I’ll make sure that you’re not missed by anyone.”

“Consider it done.”

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Come walk with me.” Finlass said. “Let’s get a bit farther away from the camp.”

Calach followed, tramping up the hill, happy to get away from prying eyes.

Finlass led the way to a patch of short grass, then turned to look at the distant fires. “Things have changed since last night.”

“They have indeed!” Calach sat on the grass and stared at the distant campfire. “After today’s disaster, we need more than open minds to get anywhere, we need a miracle.” He indicated that Finlass should also sit.

As he did so, the Meatae chief’s son continued. “We’re taking a big risk being together tonight. We were seen last night by someone; they’re talking about us already.”

“Shite.”

“Aye. Ma’damar says we’re up to something.”

“Oh, no. Not Ma’damar too.” Calach rolled his eyes to the dark sky. “Ranald mentioned we were talking too much!” He shook his head.

“I saw you having dinner wi’ Mauchty.”

“Aye. He invited me.” Calach replied. “He was concerned that he didn’t get a proper hearing today in the circle.”

“He’s another clan chief’s son. Did you sound him out?

Calach looked at Finlass closely. “Aye, he’ll be on our side.”

“The idea grows already.”

“Seems he’s been haunted by a dream. He’s already arguing for unification.”

“Are you sure that he was genuine?”

“I think so, but I didn’t give anything away. Just listened an’ agreed wi’ him mostly.”

“Maybe the best thing to do just now.”

“Anyway.” Finlass turned his body round to face Calach. “Listen to me for a while. I need to talk some things through.”

Here it comes

“I have spoken wi’ our dhruid; Quen’tan.......”

“Quen’tan?” Calach interrupted. “I’m not sure if I’m going to like this!”

“I don’t see why not? The dhruids speak well of you Calach.”

“How does your dhruid know o’ me?”

“Through one dhruid speaking to another.” Finlass replied quickly. “Every dhruid shares every piece of information with his fellows. If there’s one thing to know about dhruids; they’re the masters of sharing information. That’s why they can’t be trusted in clan matters; they would always act for the good o’ their own order.” Finlass picked up a piece of grass and began to chew the end, absentmindedly. “Another thing, but not connected. Have you spoken to your dhruids in any depth?”

Calach shook his head. “I’ve talked to Sewell about lots of things, but I always feel that he’s hiding something, that he’s talking down to me, treating me like a child.”

“I’ve found that if you ask the dhruids direct questions, they’ll you a lot more than you would think.” Finlass smirked. “Piece together what they don’t tell you, you’ll be surprised.”

Not only good at clan politics, but showing an interest in dhruid matters too?

I arrived at this ‘gaither’ without a care in the world and by tonight, not only have I argued with Ranald and chased him out of the camp, I’ve lost all pretense of my childhood and dived headfirst into inter-clan politics with an absolute stranger!

I’ll be having a few choice words with Sewell soon, before I’m out of my depth for good.

“Back to the point?”

“Aye, let’s deal wi’ the facts.” Finlass began to count off on his fingers as he spoke. “When Ranald dies, you’ll lead clan Caledon. I’ve been told by my mother that I will lead clan Meatae. That much I know. We’ll be chiefs someday; if we live long enough!”

“Aye, if we live.”

“We also know that up till now the Roman legions have conquered every tribe in the south. Nothing an’ no one stopped them there, an’ many o’ the tribes in the south were bigger than any we’ve got up here. We know that their galleys are scouting around the islands; they’re seen often enough. I’ve checked wi’ most o’ the clans wi’ coastline, both east an’ west, they a’ tell the same story. As far as the ships are concerned, let’s just say the Romans are interested in what they see up here, otherwise they wouldn’t be making so many journeys.”

Calach was suddenly very interested in what Finlass was saying. He found the atmosphere different from the hillside this morning. He was being dragged out of adolescence by the ear tonight; Finlass was not a young boy expressing his opinion, but a young chief flexing his political thinking.

“Aye, so let’s take it one stage further, Calach. The dhruids have taken a gamble here, an’ asked the clans to unite to face the Roman threat.”

“A gamble?”

“Aye, they’ve taken a chance. There were risks in having this ‘gaither’ in the first place. Anything could go wrong, anything still could!”

Calach took a deep breath.

The conversation turns again.

“Aye? Keep going.”

Finlass continued. “Well, the next thing I have to say is not at a’ common knowledge, or accepted fact. If the dhruids have taken this step to unite the clans, they must have access to some good information to hasten them to make the attempt.”

“Now I start to follow you.” Calach quietly, deep in thought. “You’re saying that the dhruids may have knowledge o’ the Romans intentions.”

“You follow exactly.” It was Finlass’ turn to take a deep breath. Calach watched as emotions flitted over the Meatae’s face. “But again I go one stage further.” He paused. “I think that not only do the dhruids know that the Romans will strike north, I think they know when they will strike!”

“What? How?” Calach spluttered.

Finlass paused, and leant closer. “If I’m close to the truth wi’ this, the dhruids may have a network o’ spies that runs right across the country.”

“Spies?”

“Think. It would certainly explain their knowledge of everyone’s business. An’ if they know about the timing o’ the Roman advance, it’s probably because they have informers everywhere; maybe even in the Roman camps.”

By Lugh! If Finlass is right, this is a major leap in my understanding of the clan system.

Calach looked at Finlass. He had followed his reasoning most of the way, but it had taken a few jumps that he had felt needed more explanation.

Maybe it’s not entirely Finlass’s idea.

Suddenly Calach became suspicious, the question being voiced before he had thought it through properly.

“An’ how do you know so much Finlass. Is this a’ your own reasoning?” Calach asked.

By Lugh, can I not hold my tongue!

“Or has someone else helped you wi’ this theory. Is there something else that you’re not telling me.” Even in the darkening glen, the look which swept across Finlass’ face showed that Calach was correct.

There! Hit the peg on the head.

Calach watched Finlass, a surge of adrenaline filling him as he warmed to the political intrigue.

The Meatae warrior lay back on the now dampening grass. He lay for a while before continuing.

“I’ve gleaned most o’ this from one dhruid especially.” Finlass began. “Not Quen’tan!” Calach’s protest fell silent in his throat. “Quen’tan would never give out such information; he’s the highest ranking dhruid I know, with the exception o’ Kheltine o’ course.”

“Aye, course.”

“Quen’tan’s actually an approachable man, but not for this type o’ thing. I got the information from a lower rank o’ dhruid; much lower. Over the last two summers we’ve talked about many things, not just the Roman menace. I’ve built up a friendship wi’ the one aim o’ getting information out o’ him. I’ve used him, I know, but the end is going to be justified by whatever means I need to use. Over many conversations I’ve put together a picture o’ the whole political scene in the Norlands. Some of this was common knowledge, others I’ve had to piece together small fragments o’ information that he’s inadvertently slipped out to get the full situation.”

So he thinks he’s used a dhruid for his own ends. Well, maybe. Or have the dhruids used him?

“So, for instance?”

“A’ right then, here’s one nugget for you; there’s been more than two years planning been put into this ‘great gaither’.

“Two years?”

“Aye.” Finlass grinned. “My man knew about this two years ago. It’s taken a while in the masterminding; getting the venue right, getting the clan chiefs to agree to come, an’ much more.”

Two years! But that means...

“Finlass!” Calach tensed, his hands animated and shaking. “If the dhruids know when the invasion will be, an’ they’ve planned this gather for two years, then the Romans can’t be ready to invade yet!”

“Correct!”

Calach again felt buoyed by his grasp of the older man’s reasoning, satisfied that he had been able to following his rationalizing to its conclusion.

“So we must have many summers yet!”

“Probably.”

We could have years to prepare for this! Oh no! When I argued with Ranald today, I felt the Romans were beating down our doors! If only I’d had this conversation first. Perhaps this’ll teach me to hold my tongue in future.

“One thing I don’t understand Finlass.”

“What’s that?”

“If you’re correct about all this, then why didn’t they tell us all this today? Maybe it would have made a difference!”

“That’s easy Calach, an’ it fits in wi’ my ‘spies’ theory. They can’t admit that they know a’ this without exposing their spy network.” Finlass smiled at the irony. “They’re caught between the sea an’ the rocks. They can’t tell us, because they don’t want us to ask how they know!”

Calach’s face gradually lost its smile and he now sat, serious, brooding. His feeling of quiet assurance had long since evaporated, not for the first time he felt immature. He sat in silence, musing over the recent revelations.

“So, my young Caledon, piece together the facts; we know that the dhruids know that the invasion will take place. It will take place, but we also know that the invasion is not coming soon or the dhruids would not have allowed the planning for the ‘great gaither’ to have taken two years. It leaves us wi’ only one thing to consider.”

“What’s that?” Calach asked, waking up slightly.

I only hope that I can remember all this in the morning!

“The only thing that we have to decide, is what we are going to do about it.”

“Us?” Calach barked. “You mean the two of us? What can we do?”

“Plenty.” Finlass looked Calach in the eye. “I want you to think o’ two possible alternatives; but don’t say anything until I’ve spoken o’ both.”

Calach nodded.

This is why we’re talking! This is the whole crux of his idea.

“One; the clans stay as separate units an’ we’re picked apart by the Romans. The tribes in the south have already tried that before; Queen Boudicca’s Icenii were destroyed in one battle, an’ the Brigante tribe was crushed in three days. Both these tribes were much, much bigger than clan Caledon, both perished. Both have now been Romanized for their pains.” Finlass looked askance at Calach as if to gauge his reaction.

“Two. We form some kind o’ united clan force an’ try an’ stop the Roman advance. In the first case we’ll definitely a’ die or end up hiding in the mountains, starving an’ dying. In the second, as a force ten times bigger than my own Meatae clan, we’ve a chance o’ some form o’ victory. What do you think?”

He’s just sprung this on me, and he wants me to give an opinion now?

“I see the point Finlass, but there’s nothing we can do about the situation!” Calach tried to stall for time.

Finlass smiled. The kind of smile that a hunter has when the deer walks into his snare.

“The point, my young Caledonii, is this.” Finlass pointed to himself then to Calach. “The point is that the two eldest chiefs’ sons o’ the two greatest clans in the Norlands are talking together. You and I. When else in our lifetimes would we have met an’ had the opportunity to talk in this way? Until today, if we had met on the moors, we’d have drawn swords an’ fought to the death. But tonight we’ve laid our hearts open.”

Finlass shifted his position quickly. He leaned towards Calach, his eyes bulging with excitement.

“I’m certain that the Romans will invade. I’m also certain that the only way to defeat them is by uniting the clans, but I can’t do it on my own. Even if Ma’damar dies tomorrow, I still can’t do it on my own; his legacy is one of hate. Because of our clan’s thieving, murdering ways, I can’t unite the Norland clans; no one would trust me on my own. If I can convince you to listen to me, then there’s hope for us a’, because I believe that unification is the only way that we can beat the Romans.”

A heavy silence descended on the pair. The remote torchlight offered no warmth, and little light. Finlass lay back on the grass to await Calach’s reactions.

He’s right in what he says. We both know it. But if I say too much maybe I’m leaving my position open to whatever comes next.

“Well Finlass, I’ve listened,” Calach slowly mouthed each word. “An’ I have to agree that I think that it’s a good idea that the clans should join together. The only question that I still have is that we are not chiefs yet. We can’t lead the clans from our positions right now.”

“There is one way that we can help the clans unite,” Finlass said, “Not tomorrow but soon, within a few summers; an’ we know from what we’ve said before that we have at least a few summers to do this. This is the crux of my whole idea. This is the part in which I hope you will agree to join with me, or it is my belief that the clan system, as we know it now, will perish.”

Calach felt sluggish, but tried to concentrate.

“There are five eldest chief’s sons here at the gather, including us. As far as I know, not many o’ the five had met before; we were mostly strangers together. If we can agree on a union between ourselves, our own very secret union, then perhaps we can work together behind the scenes an’, sooner rather than later, we can convince our chieftains, an’ the chieftains o’ the other clans to do likewise.”

“An’ you think we can do this without the dhruids, chiefs or anyone else finding out?” Calach asked sharply.

“You’re even starting to think like me Calach.” Finlass said. “We need to keep this to ourselves.”

“Well the chiefs would denounce us for undermining the clan system!”

“Aye, an’ it may be prudent to keep the dhruids out o’ it for a while until we see how the land lies there.”

“Even though we’re working towards the same goal?”

“Aye Calach, we’ll keep them in the dark until we’ve got something to tell them about.”

If I say ‘yes’ here, I’m committing myself to the biggest conspiracy I’ve ever heard of! I trust Finlass, and I’m getting a good feeling for Mauchty, but I’m not sure about the others.

Calach frowned, he felt his bottom lip quivering. “If I agree to this Finlass, it’s my opinion that we’ve got to limit the numbers o’ those who know, maybe even just the two o’ us to start off wi’.” He sighed. “Until we know that the others can be trusted totally.”

“Aye, I think like you Calach. Maybe in the beginning only the two o’ us should know what we’re trying to do. If we befriend the other chief’s sons, an’ keep it to a bond o’ friendship, perhaps we can decide which o’ them to trust wi’ the rest o’ the plan. We started it today! We can keep the real idea our own until we can be absolutely sure we can trust the others. But in the meantime we must spend some time together, an’ over the next few summers build the friendship wi’ the others stronger.”

“How can we spend time together without anyone knowing?”

“We have to spend time together. We have to develop trust between us.”

“Finlass, we’re speaking easily o’ trust, but we’ve only just met. It’s going to take a lot o’ trust on both sides even to get us through the next few days, never mind the next few summers. I mean, how can I be sure that I can trust you? For that matter, how do you know you can trust me? You arrived yesterday, a stranger, an’ now you want us both to take over the whole clan system?” The thought of what he had just said to Finlass made Calach smile, then laugh, Finlass soon joining in. They laughed as the realization of the scale of the plan became more apparent.

Oh by the very balls of Lugh himself! By this conspiracy, we’re going to try to deceive the whole of the Norlands.

“Maybe the dhruid was told to give you information. Maybe the dhruids are controlling us right now! Maybe you’re at the front of a dhruid plot! Well?” Calach narrowed his brows, questioning the Meatae warrior.

“And here I have you.” Finlass raised both his hands, palms facing Calach, “I’ve thought of this. I’ve considered all of the possibilities, but I come back to my central belief. Yes, I could be doing the dhruid’s bidding, right now. But is it for the good of the Norlands? Yes!”

Calach pondered for a moment, Finlass continued.

“I swear on the Earth Spirit himself, that the plan is totally my own. But if it’s not; if the dhruid’s are involved, then I still agree with the sense in it.”

“I think I believe you.” Calach held his hand out, “You do make perfect sense.”

Finlass offered his hand.

“Maybe from now on, we can never be sure anymore!”

Calach took the offered hand firmly, a grim look of determination in his eyes. He had a lot to think about this night.

 

~ ~ ~

 

In the darkness that had descended, he groped for the sentry’s bow and slung it over his back. With a glance to see if there were any repercussions from the fight, he grabbed the body and proceeded to drag it back over the hill away from the camp.

Damn it, with a knife wound in his neck, there’s no chance of blaming this on a fall somewhere. I’ll just have to hide it.

It took until late in the night before he was satisfied that he was far enough away from the camp to leave the body.

I’ll decide what to do in the morning.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

What else can go wrong? I only wanted to follow them, now I’ve killed two men!

Damn!

 

~ ~ ~

 

Strange though the concept of Finlass’ idea was, Calach could not find fault with the logical process. There was no threat to his clan, unless Finlass wanted to take over completely, and that couldn’t happen with the Caledon being by far the biggest clan of the two. It made sense to have some sort of united stance against any possible Roman threat.

As he contemplated the task ahead, he began to realize that there was one task he wanted to do before he settled down for the night. He walked round the camp and talked with a few of the sentries that had led the other delegations into the ‘great gaither’. When he had the information he required from the warriors, he began to mold an adaptation of Finlass’s plan. He went to his bed soon after. He fell asleep with difficulty, this new part of the scheme forming in his mind. As he slept, images of war swept through his dreams; charging chariots and dying men, blood flowing like a stream. He slept fitfully, jerking uncontrollably in his bracken filled bed. He would not remember the dream.

He woke with the realization that the plan needed to be changed, and that the most dangerous part of the plan still had to be explained to Finlass.