Chapter 4.

The Thickened Plot is Solidified.

Summer AD 74.

 

A summer sunrise is always the best time of the year. It inspires life!

Calach stood at the tent and stretched his arms into the air. With a shake of his head to chase the sleep away, he looked around the camp, listening to the chorus of snores which vied for supremacy with the morning birds.

Flurries of mist still clung to the highest peaks as the sun broke over Ben Machan, far to the east.

A quick glance ensured he was alone, and walked slowly and carefully through the camp making directly for Ma’damar’s tent.

He stood quietly outside and listened for any movement within. Only the snores of the fully asleep filtered through the animal hides. Knowing the layout of the beds inside, he knelt down and began to pick the stitching of the tent’s hide, beside where one of the beds should be.

I just hope that it’s worth the effort! What I wouldn’t give for a knife!

When he had a large enough hole to see through, he put his eye to the gap and looked inside. He could see the three figures, asleep on the bracken filled sleeping frames, and unfortunately Ma’damar was on the one closest to him.

By Lugh! I had to choose the wrong side!

Finlass was at the end furthest from the tent’s opening, which was laced closed from the inside. Calach hurried quietly round to Finlass’s side of the tent and duplicated the unthreading until he had a hole big enough for his hand to slip inside.

Well, here goes nothing.

Holding apart a little gap to see properly, he carefully worked his arm inside and clamped his hand firmly down onto Finlass’s mouth.

The Meatae woke with flailing arms and wild staring eyes, quickly trying to get his bearings, and grabbed at Calach’s hand trying to prize it from his mouth.

“Shhh, Finlass. It’s me.” He hissed into the tent. Instantly, Finlass lay still, realizing the situation. Calach released the hold. “I need to see you, now!”

Finlass nodded, and Calach withdrew his hand from the tent. Without looking back, he headed for the spot on the hillside where they had talked the previous evening.

Calach looked in dismay at the trail he was leaving in the heavily dewed grass.

“You certainly know how to wake a man up!” Finlass grinned as he caught up. They shook hands as they walked.

“Come on, we’ve got talking to do, an’ no’ much time!”

“Why the kidnap though?” Finlass hissed.

“The only way to get you up on your own. I had to speak wi’ you before the rest o’ them woke up.” Calach said quietly. “This is the last chance we get to speak alone.”

He then remained silent until they had rounded the hill and were completely out of sight of the encampment.

“Sit down.” Calach said, “You mightn’t like what I have to say.”

Finlass frowned at the dewy grass, then located a dry rocky outcrop and sat down quickly, a puzzled look on his face.

“One question before we start.” Calach sat.

“Just ask.”

“Exactly how long do we have before the Romans invade?” He said, quickly, watching Finlass intently.

“Yeo’ran, my dhruid friend, says nothing will happen for two or three years; it seems Roman’s are very methodical. So, four, five years till they invade.”

Calach nodded. “It’s incredible that they can be so accurate.”

“From what I gather, they’ve watched the Roman advance for many summers now. They obviously talk to other dhruid in the south. And their spies, remember that.”

Calach shook his head. “Anyway, I did a bit of thinking last night.” Calach began. “An’ I came up wi’ a new part to the plan.”

“Right.” Finlass nodded. “The reason for my kidnap.”

“Well, we have five summers at the outside to get the clans into thinking together, aye?”

“Aye.”

“An’ after the clan chiefs rejecting the dhruid’s proposals yesterday, it’s plain that they’ll take a few summers to come to terms wi’ the idea, that is, if they ever do.”

“Aye. If they come to terms wi’ it!”

“So we’re in agreement from last night, that we’ll have to do the job for them.”

“Aye!”

Calach smiled inwardly. He was beginning to enjoy the role reversal from the evening before. “Whatever we do to bring the clans together, has to be done in the next five summers, an’ the chances o’ Ma’damar an’ Ranald either dying or giving us command o’ the clans are not options we can seriously consider, right?”

“Aye. We’ve got to act quick, an’ although Ma’damar’s not a young man, there’s no way I’m going to wish him dead!” Finlass added.

“So, the quickest, an’ by far the strongest way that we can strengthen the union o’ the clans would be through inter-marriage.”

“What?” Finlass blurted. “You want to marry my sister?” He stood up with a bewildered look on his face. “Marriage between clans is frowned upon by every clan.”

Calach looked at Finlass’s face. “Remember when the meeting broke up in chaos yesterday?”

“Aye.”

“Your expression was the same as the clan chiefs then.”

The revelation calmed Finlass, who sat down again. “Old ways die hard, Calach.”

“Anyway, hear me out.” Calach took a deep breath. “If we can start a trend, the five o’ us, Cam’bel, Morro, Mauchty! If we take it one at a time, we can make it accepted within a few summers. It’s not such a great step really, an’ it would certainly bring the clans closer together.”

Although Finlass was silent, Calach could see that he was not dismissing the idea as much as before. He looked to be in deep contemplation.

Calach continued, enjoying the moment. “In essence it only takes one chief’s son to marry into another clan. Just one to break the tradition. After the first one, the next is going to be easier. If we were to approach one o’ the smaller clan chief’s sons; Morro, Cam’bel, perhaps, an’ approach a chief wi’ a suitable eligible daughter, it might be easier than we think. A small union at first could lead quickly to us tying the larger clans together. A Morro or a Cam’bel would take a’ the pressure off us when we finally announced our intentions.”

“But you still want to marry my sister?”

“No Finlass, definitely no’. It’s no’ going to be as easy as that for us I’m afraid. The two o’ us are special, we’ve the potential to be the two most powerful men in the Norlands someday. We can’t marry our clans together as tightly as that, it would make us too strong an alliance compared to the rest o’ them.”

“Aye Calach, you’re right.” Finlass nodded his head vigorously, looking off towards the rising sun. “Other clans would see it as a threat. That would serve to distance the clans from each other rather than unite them together.”

“Aye, an’ that’s defeating the whole purpose!”

Finlass sat and gazed at the mist, still clinging to the hillside, despite the warm morning sunshine.

It was one thing thinking the plan through, but now, after airing the plan out loud, Calach began to realize the implications of a marriage pact between the clan chief’s sons. It began to dawn to him, that this was not an addition to the plan explained the night before, but a new more daring concept altogether.

“Inter-marriage, is it?” Finlass mused quietly, playing with the words.

“Aye, if you think about it, you’ll see that it would work.”

“Marriage?” Finlass’s eyes glazed over, and he turned to face Calach. “Hell Calach, do you know what that means?”

“What?”

“I’ll have to get married!”

“Aye, there is that.” Calach shook his head at the farcical faces Finlass was pulling. “But always remember, so will I!”

“Marriage!” Finlass screwed up his face in mock pain.

“There’s one last thing.” Calach added. “For the plan to work, we need to be in contact with each other regularly. We can’t rely on any form o’ messenger system; it’d be too easy to fall into the wrong hands.”

Finlass looked thoughtful for a moment. “That could be difficult for me, I’ve probably got more duties than you have, getting away from them wouldn’t be easy.”

“Has the bold Finlass got a lady-friend?” Calach teased.

“Not anyone special.”

“Then the bold Finlass could easily find himself amorously connected wi’ a lass in the far east o’ Meatae lands.” Calach blew a kiss into the morning air. “An’ the bold Calach could find himself a girl in the far west o’ Caledonii lands.”

“And we’ll meet on the border.”

“Every full moon say? Would that be enough?”

Finlass frowned. “As I said, it’s difficult for me to get away from Bar’ton; how about every second full moon?”

“Done! We’ll start on the second full moon from now, that should be enough.”

They shook hands freely.

By Lugh! That was quick and painless.

Finlass got up to leave, then turned to Calach. “I know just the village for the meetings; Allander, just inside the border, on the Meatae side. I know the head man there, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“How about me getting past the sentries?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they’re expecting you!”

Calach stood to walk back to the camp. “No dhruids involved yet. Right?”

“Aye, let’s just see how we can get on wi’ this ourselves.”

Calach offered his hand. “All agreed?”

Finlass took the offered hand, and shook hard and long.

“Agreed!”

“Right Finlass, you go back to camp first, I’ll circle round and come in from another side, just in case anyone sees us.”

“Aye, that’s sensible. See you in two moons.”

“Aye!”

 

~ ~ ~

 

The prone figure near the top of the next hill had been awake from the earliest light of dawn. He squinted his eyes against the rising sun, trying to see properly against the strong morning light

Curses to Lugh and all who go with him! Why did I choose this position?

He was tired after his walk late into the night, tired, irritable and hungry.

He noticed the figure in the camp, the first warrior to rise and watched the man’s attempts to gain access to the Ma’damar’s tent.

What is he doing?

Again he was too far away to offer assistance.

After last night’s debacle, it’s probably just as well!

The sun then had crested the mountain opposite, throwing himself and the hillside into dazzling sunshine, making it both difficult to see properly and to change location. Slowly raising his hand to shield his eyes, he watched the figure leave the camp, and Finlass leave his tent and join him. He tried to see the second figure properly, but he had his back to him for most of the way.

As the two distant figures disappeared round the hillside, he debated going closer, then decided against it.

As the morning went on, he began to pull grass from around him and pushing it into his hair, soon he would be camouflaged so completely that he could take a chance and move his position slowly. He knew that if he could not move, that he would be in position till late afternoon, when the sun would eventually be at his advantage, allowing him to retreat to his horse, then off home. Home before anyone at the ‘great gaither’ noticed his absence.

Finlass is up to something, and I’m going to find out what!

The smile on his lips turned to a sneer, as the information was filed for future use. The day could pass without incident now. He had justified his long wait.

 

~ ~ ~

 

In the chief’s absence the sentries came to Calach to be given duties, and he went through the motions of assigning sentries to escort the clan chiefs from Caledon land. Little by little the camp emptied. Calach performed the duties of the clan chief's son without a second thought. The protocol that had come to him so strangely two days ago seemed now to be instinctive. One by one he watched the chiefs and their entourages leave, bound for their respective homelands.

When it came the turn of Mauchty and the Venicone delegation, he assigned Aysar to be one of their guides and said nothing to anyone of their agreement.

“One thing before I go Calach.”

“Aye, what is it?”

“One o’ the sentries is missing. His bed’s not been slept in.”

“Missing? Since when?”

“Just last night.”

“Who is it?”

“Reordan.”

“Hmm. Ranald probably took Reordan with him last night. He’ll have spent the night in a more comfortable bed than we did!”

“True.”

“Have a good journey!” Calach patted the horse’s rump, “An’ remember, when you get back, report only to me.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

With the camp fast emptying, and so much to do, the missing sentry was soon forgotten. As he turned from issuing more instructions to more sentries, Calach turned and was surprised to be suddenly confronted by Finlass.

“Ma’damar’s said that he’s ready to go, Calach. Our turn to leave.”

Calach looked over Finlass’s shoulder at Ma’damar and Quen’tan, saddling their mounts. The dhruid was openly watching the two of them.

I just don’t like him. There’s nothing to base my feeling on, but it’s there all the same.

Calach took a deep breath and brought his attention back to Finlass. “Second moon?”

“Aye. Allander Second moon.” Finlass said quietly.

Calach walked to Ma’damar.

Calach watched as the Meatae dhruid came over to him and offered his hand.

“Do I take it that Ranald has pressing business elsewhere?”

“Tent walls are thin, dhruid.”

He took the dhruid’s hand and shook it hard.

“You’ll make a fine chief one day, Calach, I sense in you strength and determination.” Quen’tan smiled; a huge open mouthed smile, which, emphasized by the hook nose and shaven head made him look both comical and malevolent at the same time. “We should all take our time with everything, if we let things happen slowly, they will become easier to achieve. We all have a destiny that we cannot even begin to dream about yet. But you are young, just be patient.” The dhruid bowed slightly to the young Caledon warrior. “Goodbye Calach: the one with the sharp points, I hope that we shall meet again.” When Quen’tan smiled, Calach slowly did likewise.

What was all that about? Destiny? Take our time? Why does he give me reason to doubt the plan’s source?

“A good journey, dhruid Quen’tan.”

“And you also, Calach of the Caledonii.”

Quen’tan turned and retraced his steps to where Finlass was now holding the horses.

Suddenly, without warning, Ma’damar stood in front of him. Calach had been focusing on the dhruid so much, that he had not seen the chief approach.

He looks to have aged in the last two days.

The Meatae chief shook Calach’s offered hand and smiled warmly.

I wonder if Finlass has mentioned anything to his father. Oh by Lugh! My mistrust is growing in leaps and bounds.

“Chief Ma’damar.”

“Young Calach! I see your father is not here to see us off.”

“Aye.” He swallowed hard. “He sends his best wishes on a safe journey home.”

“Don’t presume to give your Da’s wishes without his consent son.” Ma’damar’s face turned grim. “I’ll take the wishes o’ safety as yours. Your Da wouldn’t give spit to me.”

Calach felt both relief and sadness at the chief’s words, but acknowledged that the chief was correct. His father’s absence from the camp was triggered by Ma’damar’s name, and as he stared into the chief’s eyes, Calach wondered how much of their fight he had heard.

“Make me a promise lad.”

“Aye if I can.” Calach was suddenly sweating.

“Oh you can lad, there’s nothing easier.” He placed a hand on each of Calach’s shoulders. “Take this,” He produced a silver necklace. Calach looked in confusion and gratitude at the offered gift. A circle of worked silver with a bears head shaped in slight relief on it attached to a thin silver chain. “An’ promise me you’ll travel to our lands an’ see Meatae land for yourself.” Ma’damar held the necklace higher. “The wearer o’ this talisman has free roam over a’ Meatae lands. The head o’ the bear is the sign o’ Ma’damar o’ the Meatae. Its mark is known to a’ our people, an’ most others besides. I give it to you, Calach. You have freedom within our lands.”

Calach found he was temporarily speechless, he muttered some words of gratitude, and put the bears head talisman deep in one of his pockets. He wondered if Finlass had indeed found a way to give him safe passage over the border to Allander.

Or maybe the gift has come from a different source altogether. See! There I go again!

“Farewell, young Calach, I am sure that we shall see you again.”

“Farewell Lud Ma’damar, I have no gift for you in return, but I will try an’ visit Bar’ton.”

“That would be gift enough, young Caledon. There’s no place more beautiful.”

“So I’ve been told.” Calach remembered the previous afternoon’s indoctrination. “More than once.”

The old chief walked back to the waiting group and mounted his horse. The delegation of three, following the two sentries, rode out of the camp towards the west. Finlass turned and waved a final salute as he turned out of sight down the glen.

Calach waited until they were out of sight, then gave orders to break camp to the sentries and helpers that remained. His mind was in turmoil. He was both thrilled at the prospect of uniting the clans together and disappointed in the result of the ‘great gaither’. He was also sad to see Finlass, Cam’bel and Morro leave after so short a time, he felt that the partly cemented friendships were only the start of some kind of alliance. He also had a large weight beginning to grow on his shoulders; the responsibility of the reorganization of the clan system in the Norlands. No slight weight for the shoulders of a fifteen year old.

He gave thought to Ma’damar's gift: the talisman had been given to him. It meant that Ma’damar was not against some form of future communication between the two clans. He wondered if Finlass had indeed been behind the gift, of had it just been coincidence.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Conrack thudded his head repeatedly into the ground under him.

“Damn it a’!” He cursed into the flattened grass. “Of a’ the stupid, stupid things to do!”

He had lain for so long, wallowing in his own cleverness, smiling in admiration of his ability in learning the identity of one of the warriors on the hill that morning. He had basked in the luxury of future conversations, his new knowledge kept to himself.

Then he had committed the ultimate error; he had fallen asleep.

He had not only made himself vulnerable, but also had missed the delegations as they rode from the camp. He therefore had missed his opportunity to put the identity of the known conspirator to his companion.

“Kernos take my head an’ make it shake till it falls off!” He cursed, mouthing the words so close to the ground that grass and dirt blew from his lips.

Slowly, stealthily, he lifted his head and looked at the deserted glen. Even the tents were gone, the hides probably packed inside the broch.

“I’m lucky no one found me!”

He searched the area below and the skyline for sentries, and upon finding none, rose languidly to his knees. He then moved from his place of concealment, and slunk back over the hill towards his tethered horse. Mindful that his mount may have been found and watched, he approached from the side of the sun, and began the descent into the steep sided hollow where his animal stood, saddled, ready for flight.

The two figures standing beside his horse froze him to the spot. Slowly Conrack lowered himself to the ground.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Calach had overseen the packing up of all the tents, bedding and cooking implements, and had made sure that the carts had a small warrior escort. He had then sent them ahead; he wanted to speak with Sewell alone. He waited until the dhruid started for home, then, slipping his precious bow over his shoulder, fell into step beside him.

How do I start to question a dhruid? Finlass said to ask direct questions, maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong. Oh well, here goes....

“So why did Da’ just ride off like that, Sewell?”

“You would know Calach, you spoke to him last.”

“Not quite last, he spoke to you. I heard him.”

Sewell paused. “He was angry.”

“Aye. Wi’ me.”

“No Calach.” An enigmatic smile crossed the dhruid’s features. “Not entirely with you. The feud between Ranald and Ma’damar seems to have reached new dimensions.” As he walked, the dhruid punctuated each step with a downward thrust of his staff.

The dhruids used a different form of speech that, whilst easily understandable to the clan members, was identifiable immediately as dhruid-speak. They also used a larger vocabulary than was common, which was sometimes off-putting; but the worst thing that a dhruid could do was to talk in riddles, because that usually meant that the conversation was at an end.

“But I only mentioned Ma’damar’s name twice, maybe three times. He just went off at me!”

Calach could feel the dhruid’s eyes on him as they walked.

“They fought for most of yesterday within the circle; it gradually became a political battle; with two strong sides forming against each other.”

I don’t believe this! Sewell’s telling me what happened in the circle! Finlass was right; just ask direct questions!

“Ranald headed one group, Ma’damar the other. After his argument with you, he came to our tent. He realized that he could not conduct the formal leaving rituals with the Meatae chief with neutrality and asked our leave to return home there and then.”

“So because he couldn’t say farewell to Ma’damar, he said farewell to no one.”

“That was the resolution he reached.”

Because he couldn’t shake Ma’damar’s hand! He used our fight as an excuse. He wanted to argue with me, and wanted the whole camp to hear!

Calach could again feel Sewell watching him. Calach would normally have felt nervous, talking to Sewell. Today was different, he felt more self-assured. Perhaps Sewell was seeing that in him.

“An’ he just left me to take care o’ everything!”

“That was also a good choice. You managed admirably!”

They walked for some time in silence. Calach debated on how to bring the subject of the gather into the conversation. He considered two or three options, then, without prompting, Sewell gave him the opening

“There was something else.” Sewell placed a hand on Calach’s shoulder, and the young Caledon instinctively looked at the dhruid. “I think your father’s feelings toward Ma’damar were worsened a little by your friendship with Ma’damar’s son.” Calach was unnerved by Sewell’s frown. “You seemed to spend a great deal of time with him. I think Ranald was upset.”

Calach hoped that the dhruid could not see how crestfallen he was.

It seems that everyone’s seen me talking to Finlass. What makes it worse, everybody seems to have attached significance to it. I’m going to have to be much more devious in future if I don’t want to be caught out!

“We didn’t spend that much time together Sewell. When Ranald wanted me for official duties, I was always available.”

“I know. I don’t think that any lasting damage was done. You are his eldest son, and he will soon forget. Even as we speak, he will be telling the story to Mawrin. She’ll soon have him calmed down. She knows him well enough by now.

Calach thought of his mother. If there was anyone who could control Ranald, it was she.

“But enough of the ‘gaither’ lad. It is now firmly in the past.”

“Aye.” Calach sighed. He swallowed before continuing.

Ask direct questions.

“Which clans voted against the unification Sewell? Da’ said there were four.”

There was a distinct pause. As they walked along, Calach waited patiently for the dhruid to answer.

“There were actually five who voted in favor. Your father was probably not all that interested in exact figures; just the outcome. As I said to you, two distinct camps; one led by Ranald, one by Ma’damar.”

Calach noticed that Sewell had the annoying habit of taking too long between phrases. He was surprised he had not noticed before. Calach waited impatiently. When the dhruid eventually spoke, he again punctuated the list with his staff as he walked.

“Venicone, Votadin, Selgove, Meatae, Epidd.”

Calach thought about the politics behind the voting of the clans. Southern clans, Votadin and Selgove; first in the firing line, they were always going to be in favor. Mauchty perhaps voted for his father, maybe just on his own. Ma’damar voting against Ranald was obvious, as was the Epidds voting with Ma’damar, their neighbor. It all seemed too petty when you thought it through.

“Well, Sewell.” Calach, probed further. “Ah still can’t see why they were the only clans to agree. Five out o’ seventeen is lower than I would’ve expected.”

As he walked, Calach stole glances at Sewell’s face, searching for more than just the words, but his features were impassive. Again there was a long pause before Sewell continued.

“The Selgove and Votadin would vote for the unification of the clans.” Sewell paced. “Like your father probably told you, they had everything to gain, and virtually nothing to lose. Because of their southerly position, they will undoubtedly be the next in line for the Romans advance and they are willing to accept any help available. They are clutching at any straw they can to help them against the Romans. We, in the shelter of our great hills, are in no immediate danger.”

The emphasis was not lost on Calach.

Sewell motioned with his staff at the slopes on either side. “The Romans will find it difficult to fight in this terrain.”

He said ‘will find it difficult’. But he should have said ‘would find’, unless he knows for sure, just like Finlass said. The dhruid’s know how the Roman’s fight!

Calach grinned inwardly.

So this is what Finlass means by looking into the dhruids words. I’m just a beginner at this, and I’m enjoying it already!

“The southern clans also saw at first hand the survivors of the Brigantes massacre. It was those two clans who attended to their wounds and buried their dead. They are the clans who have witnessed the Romans building up their armies on their borders.”

Calach mused. “You also wouldn’t expect Pe’weric to vote against his own arch-dhruid, would you?”

“Pe’weric was free to vote any way he chose.” Sewell corrected. “The fact stands that they have seen the Romans massing on the borders. They have seen the ships and the patrols the Romans send north.”

“So why can’t you take all the chiefs to those borders an’ show them the Roman build-up?” Calach interrupted.

“We did that already.” The dhruid said simply.

Calach walked alongside, dumbstruck. Sewell’s smile had vanished, replaced by a somber, dark expression.

“Who went?” Calach gasped; his mouth suddenly dry.

“Dhruids went, just as winter was breaking and the first signs of spring were in the trees.”

“Who went from our clan? It wasn’t you; you were here all the time.”

“Trico’nan, from the settlement of Vimor.”

“But I heard he’d died in a rock fall.” Calach fell silent, suddenly realizing a larger perspective.

“He never came back. None of the dhruids came back, and we sent ten.”

“Ten dhruids died?”

“They are gone from us. Now can you see why we can’t risk it again?”

“Aye.” Calach knew there was nothing else to say on the subject.

If they can capture or kill ten dhruids, what chance do the rest of us have?

For a while they walked in silence, Calach watching for signs of wildlife on either side of the glen.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Damn them to Lugh!

Conrack watched as the two sentries inspected his horse and saddle.

They’re looking for brands, or other marks of ownership. They won’t find any, I was careful.

He decided that it was prudent to remain where he was, hidden by a cluster of rocks, near the corrie where he had tethered his horse.

I was lucky with the last one; I’m not taking on two of them. Especially as they are armed better than me!

He had already taken in details of the sentry’s dirks. Their bows lay discarded at their feet, whilst they examined his saddle.

I’ll just have to walk home. Well, walk for the first part until I get myself a horse.

The men were far below, and he could not hear the conversation between them. The nodded to each other, then untied the horse, and began to lead it away. The lone figure thought about an ambush, then discarded the idea as ludicrous.

Much easier and safer to just steal a horse.

When the men were out of sight, he got to his feet and began to run. Slow loping strides to conserve energy. Deep slow breaths to keep up his strength.

I’ll still beat Finlass home!

 

~ ~ ~

 

“What about the other three chiefs who voted for unity? What about Mauchty?” Calach asked.

“Ah yes, the lad Mauchty!”

Sewell stopped walking suddenly. He took his staff in both hands and began to spin it around his arms and body in complex, whirling patterns. With the speed of the swings and the force of the heavy staff, Calach thought that Sewell might be good in a fight, then remembered quickly that dhruids did not fight at all. As abruptly as he had started, Sewell stopped, bringing his staff to rest at his side.

He smiled. “Just thought I’d find out if I remembered how to do that.”

“Impressive.” Calach nodded emphatically. “I don’t much go for the staff as a weapon.”

“Thank you.” Sewell continued walking. “No one does.”

Calach fell into step and waited on Sewell speaking. He was beginning to learn some patience, waiting for the dhruids conversation.

“The representative of the Venicones is a young forward thinking man.” Sewell said eventually, “But he had one problem at the gather.”

“What was that?”

“I will tell you if you will let me finish, you young impetuous puppy!”

Calach almost muttered an apology, then saw that Sewell was grinning.

“Mauchty came as a delegate from his clan, not as a chief.” Sewell said. “He was representing his father, Gillaine, who is too ill to travel and will surely not last the year.”

Mauchty never said anything about that! But then, perhaps he doesn’t know. Finlass was right about the dhruids, you have to take everything they say and analyze it.

“Since Mauchty is not yet the chief in his own right, no one paid the slightest attention when he spoke for unification.”

“A shame.”

“Indeed; some of his points were well observed and made. He will make a good chief one day.”

“An’ the other two?”

“Pardon?”

“The Meatae an’ the Epidds!”

“Ah yes. As far as Ca’duell of the Epidds is concerned; no one knows what goes on inside his head. He’s a maverick, no one knows from one day to the next exactly what he will think, never mind do. I watched as he voted, his hand was in the air before Ma’damar’s. Perhaps they voted together, having talked it out beforehand, but I do not think so.”

“They are neighbors.”

“Yes Calach, they are. But did you notice if they travelled together?”

Calach shook his head. “They didn’t.”

“Exactly. If clan Epidd was as close to clan Meatae as we are thinking, they would have travelled together for increased safety. Just because a clan is a neighbor and they vote similarly, does not mean they vote for the same reason.”

The two continued along the lightly worn path, following the cart tracks of the clansmen ahead.

I’ve got to find out why the gaither broke up. Ranald never told me. If I keep talking to Sewell, I’ll get to that question eventually.

“The thing that perplexes me, Sewell, is the other clans in the southern lands; the Novants, the Damon. I can’t understand what they’ve got to lose by a union against the Romans?

“Why have they nothing to lose?”

“Well, they’re next in line to the Selgove to be invaded, why can’t they both see the wisdom in the plan?”

Sewell took his normal interval between answers.

“The Novants are an interesting lot,” He said, and a strange look spread over his face. “They never said anything at all in the discussion until prompted to, the end, then simply stated that they would deal with the Romans on their own. The chief, Daglass, was adamant that the Romans would pose no problem for his warriors. Nothing we could say could persuade them to any other attitude. The Damon are a different matter. Neall has spent so much of his time defending his land from the ravages of Ma’damar and Daglass’s clans, that there was no way he was giving possible command of Damon warriors to a known enemy. He said he would die before he did anything like that.”

“He probably will!”

“Yes, Calach. He probably will, and many at the gather told him so. But it did not change his mind.”

“So in the end?”

“Well, my impetuous friend, there were so many different reasons for not uniting the clans, the whole meeting broke up having achieved little.”

“Achieving little he says! According to you, the gathering came to no agreement at a’.” Calach stopped suddenly and put out a hand to halt the dhruid. “We didn’t achieve little, we achieved nothing!”

“The dhruid rounded on Calach.

“Now Calach.....”

“Wait!” Calach hissed, putting his hand up between them. He motioned into the bushes at the side of the path. Calach put one finger to his lips, motioning the dhruid to silence. Sewell nodded his head, then followed Calach’s gaze. Calach watched the bushes rustle again. He quickly and silently had his bow strung and an arrow knocked, the point aimed at the disturbance in the undergrowth. There was a further, closer rustle and a small brown speckled shape leapt out onto the path. Calach’s bow followed it, the arrow still knocked. In silence they watched the small deer as it appraised the two travellers. It looked at them for a moment, then dashed past them into cover on the other side of the path.

“Not big enough for the pot Calach?”

“It will be one day.” Calach slipped the arrow back into his quiver and re-slung his bow over his shoulder.

“My little chief,” Sewell mimicked Calach’s mother, and patted him affectionately on the head as they continued on their way to the Caledon town. “Just because I said that the gathering achieved little, do not come to the conclusion that nothing was gained.” Sewell began to count off the points on his fingers as he spoke. “The clan chiefs are now on their way homeward with two options in their minds. The first is this huge clan army crushing the Romans, the second is this huge Roman army crushing the clans individually. The seed for our idea has been planted, the fact that you and I are talking about it in depth proves that the notion is still alive; it lives on in the young blood of the clans. In Finlass, in Cam’bel, in Morro, and in blood like yours. We must hope that the seeds will have time and peace to grow into something more substantial.”

By Lugh! He’s outlined Finlass’s plan in a few sentences! He’s even mentioned the main conspirators by name!

“Sewell?”

“Yes, my prickly one?”

“Wha.....” Calach was instantaneously reminded of Quen’tan’s translation of his name.

Prickly one? Has Sewell been told by Quen’tan about our initial contact? Come on Calach, pull yourself together!

He carefully organized his thoughts and marshaled the question again.

“Why did the ‘great gaither’ finally break down?”

The question was a cautious one. He half expected to be refused the information.

“Ah, the burning question. You do take a long time to get to the point Calach.”

Me, a long time? Oh, by Lugh, am I that transparent?

“Leadership, Calach”

“As simple as that?”

“A single point, my young warrior, but not simple. Who would lead the joint army? As complex a subject as there was in the whole day. The two prime candidates were, of course, Ranald and Ma’damar, but even putting the unification question aside, none of the clan leaders could decide to limit the choice to those two. Petty clan squabbles got in the way of the discussion at every turn.”

Leadership! They couldn’t agree on fighting together, but they broke up a dhruid meeting when it came to choosing one leader!

Calach strode along quietly for a long part of the way back to Lochery. He let his mind wander on the events of the last three days that had undoubtedly changed his life permanently. No longer did he consider himself as simply Calach, chief’s son. He was now a warrior of the Norlands, and the Norlands needed his help.

He thought mainly of the dhruid involvement in the ‘great gaither’ and the task of keeping Finlass’s plan secret from the holy order. As they walked home, Calach had tried to ask his questions in a conversational manner, but the more he asked, the more he recognized the risk in continuing his ‘interrogation’.

Although Calach had thought themselves secretive, it was obviously common knowledge that the four chief’s sons had met at the gather. He wondered what would come from their associations.

I wonder if our plan could run along with the grand machinations of the dhruids. Probably not. We all want the same outcome eventually, so maybe one day we can tell the dhruids, but not yet.

Something made him hold back; it was not time yet. Their plan had to be bigger, more advanced. They needed to have achieved something before they told anyone, never mind the dhruidic order.

“What were the sides on the leadership debate?”

“Oh, there were many.”

Calach walked in silence as he waited for Sewell to continue.

“Ranald, Ma’damar, Neall, Torthor, Pe’weric. They all had their supporters. Most could not come to terms with their warriors being led by another.”

“Aye, I can see why Neall wouldn’t want command o’ the clan army to go to Ma’damar.”

“Yes, for the obvious reasons. Ma’damar has raided Damon lands one time too many; just one of the many facets of that argument.”

“Who voted against Ranald? He’s considered one o’ the best warriors there is in the Norlands.”

“Yes he is, and his guarantee of safety and neutrality was used as an argument, but there were some who argued that Ranald was a great warrior only by reputation, not deed. Some voiced the opinion that your father has grown old badly when it comes to a warrior breed.”

My father old?

“What do you mean by ‘reputation’, Sewell?”

“Well, when was the last time he raided a neighbor?”

“Ranald has ruled over a peaceful land for most o’ his days!” Calach’s voice had inadvertently crept up in volume in defense of his father. “I’ve not known a day of war in my fifteen.... almost sixteen summers!”

“Yes. Therein lays the problem. Do you see where they could not agree?”

No! I must be stupid. I can’t see it at all.

Calach’s silence answered Sewell’s question.

“Well then. The very reason that no one would pick your father to lead was the fact that he had not raided his neighbors!”

Of course!

“An’ the chiefs that have raided their neighbors had cancelled themselves out of the leadership by the fact that they had made enemies.”

Sewell smiled as he walked. “Well done lad!”

“So the ‘gaither’ was never going to come to a decision on a leader.”

“No. There the ‘great gaither’ broke apart. Ma’damar and his supporters calling Ranald a ‘spineless child’, and Ranald and his calling Ma’damar a murdering thief!”

Calach could do no more than walk in silence, his mouth open.

“A spineless child!” No wonder Ranald stormed off when I kept mentioning his name! No wonder he couldn’t stay till the end of the gaither; he’s been called a coward to his face! He would have lost all that was left of his pride to have shook Ma’damar’s hand.

“Ranald’s not warlike enough,” Calach began, “Ma’damar’s been too warlike an’ has made too many enemies. Mauchty’s too young? Pe’weric? Neall?”

Sewell nodded. “Mauchty is not even chief yet! Gillaine is too sick, and Pe’weric is too far south to hold the highland clans. As for Neall, well! There is more than one chief that Neall would like to put on his back with a dirk between his ribs.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, and many would like the chance to get at Daglass, the Novants chief too. He’s also ruffled a few feathers along the way.”

“I didn’t know that he was disliked as much as that.”

“Worse. If there is an unstable link in the Norland clan chiefs, it is him.”

Calach shifted his bow on his back, and his hand brushed the pocket which carried Ma’damar’s silver boar talisman. He pondered whether to tell Sewell about it, then quickly thought it prudent to keep the gift to himself for a while.

“I had the feeling that Ma’damar was for some form o’ union, when he spoke to me at the end o’ the gathering.” He said, sounding out the dhruid on his feelings towards the Meatae chief.

“There are unions and there are unions. Some unite, some divide.”

This is where I would have left it before, but now I’m going to ask the direct question!

“What do you mean Sewell?”

“Some unite, some divide.” The dhruid repeated, almost absent-mindedly. The topic was closed.

So much for direct questions!

Calach felt, not for the first time, that he wished that dhruids would talk plainly, like ordinary clanspeople.

Calach walked in silence for a spell trying to work out possible scenarios in which ‘some unions divided’.

His thought processes were put on hold as a he heard the noise of a bow being unleashed, then an arrow flew high in the air in a lazy arc towards the pair. He laid a hand on the dhruid’s chest, stopping him mid-step.

“Calach! Ahoy!”

He watched as the badly aimed arrow landed harmlessly on the path, a little ahead of the two travellers. A young boy raced out of the undergrowth, ran through the bracken to Calach and threw himself at him.

“Lachlin!” Calach shouted, as he spun the boy round. “That means we’re home Sewell!” The brothers embraced, and Lachlin nodded to Sewell.

“Aye you’re home alright big brother! Have you missed me?”

“Aye ya wee scamp! I’ve missed you like I’ve missed Ma’s home cooking.”

“Faither came home last night.” Lachlin blurted breathlessly. “He wouldn’t say a word about the ‘great gaither’. What’s the news?”

Calach put his arm round his brother’s shoulders and continued down the path towards Lochery. He thought as he walked that his brother’s childhood was nearly over; showing two fingers, he was almost ready for all the trials of the young warrior.

“There will be plenty of time for stories later Lachlin.” Sewell said as the boy leant down to gather his arrow, and fell into step between them.

“Aye! An’ for telling tales on Da’.” Calach ruffled Lachlin’s long brown hair, irritating the boy. “Go an’ run ahead an’ tell Mawrin that we’re back.”

Within a few moments they came to a crest in the path where they were afforded their first glimpse of their home settlement. Calach paused for a while and wondered what it would look like having been ravaged by the invading Roman army. He resolved to see their plan through, or die trying. It seemed to him that it was the only way.

 

~ ~ ~

 

A hilltop fort was a common means of defense, numerous ditches and dykes surrounded a high stone wall. The clan would farm or tend animals in the vicinity, always watchful for a signal fire which called them into the fort for safety.

Near lochs, a crannog was a useful base. Built on an artificial island, it was reached by a series of stepping stones, the correct paths only known by the clansmen. Rocky, unstable stones were traps in the path, leading an attacker to an ungainly fall into the deep, surrounding water. Attackers could easily be picked off by bowmen in the crannog.

A broch was a circular tower, wide at the base, and tapering to a flat, walled top. A circular staircase spiraled inside, leading to both the top and to as many as four internal floors.

The central core of the settlement of Lochery had seven of these towers, in a wide circle, connected by a tall stone wall. The main outer defense, both against wild animals and human attack, was a steep wall of closely fitting pine pillars. With a dike of piled earth behind, and a ditch in front, it made a considerable barrier. Three other ditches surrounded the walled dyke.

The four entrances were tall wooden gates, with complicated turns on the approach path.

There had never been an attack which had breached the outer walls.

Between the dike and the ‘inner ring’ was the largest part of the settlement, the area which housed most of the dwellings. These were wooden huts with conical roofs; some linked together, some separate. This was where the bulk of the inhabitants of Lochery lived. This was also the space for the market, the place where traders from all over Europe came to barter for clan goods.

Caledon lands were wild and barren in most areas, but traders still came into the Norlands trading cloth, silks, herbs, spices, yeasts, weapons, jewelry and most highly prized of all, dyes for clothing and the clans people’s tattoos. The traders returned southwards with carts full of hides; deer, boar and bear, and gold, silver and gems from the fast flowing Norland rivers.

This area between the two defense walls was also the workplace of the bakers, butchers, blacksmiths, armorers, jewelers, potters, weavers; the tradesmen who made the clan wares. The tradesmen and women were also the warriors who, in times of conflict, picked up sword and spear to fight for the clan.

The circle of brochs which sat in the inner ring at the centre of Lochery were the homes of the chief, his family, the dhruids with their retinue, and the main buildings which stockpiled grain, meat, vegetables, and beer. The coin maker also shared the inner ring.

Outside the outer defenses lay the farmed land. Fields of wheat and barley were already planted and lush and green. Vegetables like turnips, leeks and cabbage grew well in the deep brown soil. Many of the northern clans came to trade at the Lochery market.

Calach and Sewell walked down the wooded slopes towards their home. Calach reflected that the old tales told that the broch ring system had worked for hundreds of years. But he reasoned that it was a system that had reckoned without the Romans.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Calach has good hunting instincts, but that alone does not make him a dhruid. He was given the tests when he was showing two fingers. He failed.”

The two grey cowls sat immobile at the small fire. Shadows danced on the bare walls of the broch.

“But he has some power. Quen’tan remarked on it.” Wrapping his hand in a wet cloth, Sewell reached into the fire and retrieved a small chalice. He sipped the warm fluid. “Using all his power, Quen’tan could not control him.” He passed the chalice to the other dhruid.

“Ah, yes, the challenge on the approach.” He too sipped the dark amber liquid. “That was quite impressive. If he is to be chief one day, he might be difficult to bend to our ways.”

“I noticed them twice on his way home with me.”

“And nothing more?”

“He anticipated my thoughts on more than one occasion. He has a small vein of talent, but nothing like his younger brother.”

“But two in the same family is rare.”

“The union of Ranald and Mawrin was always going to produce strong sons. They are both strong-willed parents.”

“So the eldest; he will be of no use to us?”

“I do not think so. But at the same time, I anticipate he will not be powerful enough to hinder us either.”

“Good.”

“Good for him and us.”

The grey robed figures ate in silence, the only noise being the fire in the centre of the room.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Aysar returned home five days later and sought Calach at once. “Everything went well. Mauchty invited me along, just as you’d said he would, and I spent a night in a crannog-village called Ross before heading back here.”

“Did you get to meet Gillaine, their chief?”

“No, I wasn’t even asked. That privilege would be reserved for people like yourself.” Aysar grinned at his friendly jibe regarding Calach’s lineage. “Plus, he was attended day and night. He’s not well.”

“What’s the situation concerning a visit this summer?” Calach asked.

“Mauchty said there would be no objection to that at a’. Wi’ that in mind, I was introduced to the clansmen in the border village o’ Antae, they’ll let me through again, on the orders o’ Mauchty. If you’re along wi’ me, there’s a chance you’ll get through as well.”

Calach was left wondering if this last twist in Aysar’s tale was just to ensure that his friend was an integral companion at his intended visit, but decided that even if it was, it had been done purely out of loyalty to himself.

He looked forward to a proper, protracted meeting with the Venicone warrior.

 

End of Part One.

 

Thus Part one ends. As an author, I’d be delighted to have your thoughts on what you’ve just read. Your views on my writing style, the content, the storyline. Even where you think the story should go from here.

Part two will be online soon.

Good or bad, I’d like to hear from you.

Email me at; KansasScot@aol.com

Thank you.