Hag of the Hills, page 20
They both looked at me.
‘You’re a Celt, as these Greeks call you,’ Verc said to me. ‘Don’t let these foreigners insult us. Where is your pride?’
‘You’ll never get anywhere listening to Verc,’ Aster said. ‘Do you want the secrets of the world revealed to you, or wallow in excrement? Or, more importantly, do you want to win battles?’
The first dilemma had come to me at high noon, between the white tents flapping in the wind. I became aware of the grey ocean sapping at the shelly beach nearby, and of the gulls circling the islet on the horizon.
‘Trite!’ Verc shouted, his face red, and I shirked because I thought he may strike me. I remembered who I was, his leader, and stiffened myself, but he huffed and stomped one of his feet. ‘Do you know why I’ve lived so long?’ he said, and then puffed his chest out at me. ‘With so few scars?’
I had no answer.
‘Skill, boy, skill!’ He shouted, and his big moustache ruffled. ‘I lived so long by the skill of my hands that moved my blade and shield to protect me. I charge headlong into battle with nothing to protect me but my skills and what Great Danu has birthed me with. The Greek,’ he said, and pointed to Aster. ‘The Greek has lived just as long as I. The Greek wears armour, and when his skill fails him, his armour protects him. Where is the honour in that?’
Aster shrugged. ‘The honour in that is to live longer to fight longer and protect what you love longer. What use are you if you are dead? Your wife will be raped, your children sold into slavery, your possessions all for the taking. Why waste your life?’
I was no use to Myrnna if I were dead. There was no dishonour in death protecting them, yet I yearned to live to finish my mission, to bring them to Dun Torrin.
‘I will learn the ways of the Greek,’ I said. ‘They have many riches, and riches can only be won through war, so they must be right.’
Verc sneered at me, and turned away in a huff and went back to combing his moustache.
‘Aster, you will teach me Greek, and then you will teach me everything that you know.’
The Greek shrugged. ‘I’ll try, but you barbarians have slow minds. It’s too foggy and cold up here. Your minds are much slower as a result.’
‘Verc, you were a druid,’ I said to him, and he turned around.
He nodded.
‘Then you will teach me astronomy, and how to discern the will of
the gods.’
‘No,’ Verc said, and his gaze went down and he shook his head. ‘No, I can’t,’ he said, without eye contact, and he returned to his tent and pulled the flaps closed.
‘We’ll go up to the hills now for your first lesson. But I don’t have high hopes that you will retain anything,’ Aster said, and left.
The sky yellowed. The seabirds flourished along the coast: seagulls, oystercatchers, razorbills. Seals reclined on the chain of broken islets, shiny black blobs on the bright horizon. Soon the deer in the forest behind us would be wandering about. Sundown came. The last day I walked Taman as Brennus had peaked and waned, and now I was to be reborn as Vidav.
I ordered the men to gear up. They all donned their war-outfits, the Celts in their bright coloured clothes, the four of them a piebald panoply of green, blue, yellow, and brown. They all spiked their hair in beeswax, and Verc stylized his long moustache. They armed themselves with their one-handed spears and their oblong shields that ran chin to toe.
Then came Orca, the great Umbrian in his red tunic. He wore a rusty bronze breastplate and his girth spilling over it, and he carried a long dagger at his hip, a one-hand spear, and no shield since he could not use his injured arm.
Marthelm then came with a fringed check blue-white cloak flowing behind him. He wore a light green tunic and brown hose and had a red belt with an emblazoned belt buckle of bright bronze. His blond-grey hair was capped in a conical brown hat that contrasted with his grey eyes, and his beard ruffled ferocious in the briny wind. He had his sword Tiwaz at his side in a blue wooden scabbard fitted with bronze, and carried a long lance, and a bright-yellow painted shield.
Then came Aster, so bright in the sinking sun. He wore a bronze breastplate over a red tunic, high leather boots that reached just under his knees, a bronze helmet with a wide visor, and a round shield, shaped and coloured like the sun. The Greek carried an iron sword, a xiphos, at his side, and in his hand, a one-handed iron spear. My eyes nearly teared at his beauty, and I knew I had made the right choice to have him drill my men. I yearned to learn his art of war.
Finally, Tratonius came. He wore a bronze chestplate chiselled like muscles of an athletic man, a blue-green fringed check cloak, a red tunic belted together by brown belts, bronze knee-high greaves, and a bronze helmet polished that it shone. The helmet had a spike where a black horsehair plume fluttered. He was equipped with a short iron sword, a set of javelins, and an oval shield painted with a blue boar that possessed a golden fringe. The torc clasped tightly around his thick neck. He possessed mismatched equipment, methought, for nothing seemed in place, yet he still wore it all well, for I recognized him as a leader, even if he followed me.
‘You made us dress for war for your ceremony,’ Verc said. ‘It was a great effort. But tell us, boy, how do you expect to complete this without a druid?’
‘There is a druid out yonder,’ I said, and pointed toward the black headland. ‘And he was the one who helped me become Vidav. We will seek him out now. If we can’t find him or if he’s dead, you can do it.’
We left with the sky darkening, and I led the men down the sheep trail along the coastline. Cicarus volunteered to watch the camp, so we left him with the slave girls. I brought Myrnna along, because I did not have the trust to leave her with anyone.
After we passed diving razorbills, we spotted a white blob on the edge of the cliff. It moved, and when we came closer, the blob spanned out on the ground. We drew nearer to it, and it was Cammios in his soiled robe. He stood up, and paced, oblivious to our presence and jabbering to himself. We climbed the hill to him, and the wind whipped us so hard that we had to shout. He teetered on the edge of the cliff and invited me to shove him off.
‘Have you all come back?’ He asked. Verc, Antedios, Cattos and Aldryd stood behind me. ‘My men!’ Cammios shouted at them. ‘I command you to kill me!’
‘These aren’t your men,’ I said to him.
‘They aren’t?’ he said. His face was wind-whipped red, and his eyes teared. His drab hair and soiled robe juxtaposed against the golden sea behind him. How he had become so dirty overnight, I did not know. ‘Then who are you?’
‘I’m the man from the tomb. The man you saved.’
‘I… I saved you?’ he said, and his eyes became wetter, and he stopped pacing.
‘Don’t you remember?’
‘You’re dead!’ he said, patting my rotting tunic. ‘You’re dead… in a
way, yes.’
‘No, I am alive,’ I said. ‘Come on, we have to complete the ceremony. I must be named.’
‘Yes,’ he said, and the tears flew down his face. His eyes calmed. His hand, clawing at my chest, stopped shaking. ‘You must have a new name. It is sundown. Who are these men?’
‘My warriors. They’re all swearing an oath to me after I am named.’
‘These aren’t my men,’ he said, and he laughed when he saw Marthelm, Tratonius, Aster and Orca. ‘These are foreigners!’ And he looked at the rest, ‘more foreigners!’ And at me, ‘you’re foreign, in a way now.’
I unsheathed my sword and his eyes drew to it. I pointed to the inscription.
‘That’s me. Vidav. That is what my name is now, and the name of my sword.’
‘I will name you, and swear your men to you,’ he said. ‘If you kill me.’
He ran a finger down the blade. Blood dripped down into the brown moss below. He sucked his finger.
‘Will you?’
I hesitated. He was a madman. The goddess Fea, of stark, screaming madness, had begun to grip ahold of him and wrench his sanity. Why should he suffer so? Besides, I had weaselled out of killing him before, even though I had promised him I would. I owed him death.
I nodded.
‘Swear to me,’ he said, and he grabbed me by the collar of my tunic, and pulled himself close. His breath smelled of fish.
‘I know I am mad,’ he said, as if he could hear my thoughts.
The druid forbade Myrnna to witness it, so she sat in the bushes with closed eyes and covered ears. Of the ceremony, the Cammios permitted me to say little. When it was over, I had a new name, eight men sworn to me, and Tratonius relinquished the twisted wire torc to my neck. Cammios died. I will say, my dear Luceo, I am happy that he died while Fea’s wrath had left him as the moonlight lit his bright eyes. We left his corpse there, and I left Bodvoc’s sword in the tomb of my ancestor.
CHAPTER XIV
We returned to camp, and I burned the clothes of my ancestor in the fire, to ashes, dressed myself in my old clothes that I had traded back from Cicarus for his freedom, and cinched the brooch on the cloak Aine had given to me. I sat down among my men at the fire. I ate, I drank, I was content.
That night, the men were quiet, but once they drank, they began to recount their stories and chat amongst themselves. Verc, Antedios, and Cattos complained they had little to eat, which was nonsense since the ocean had plenty to offer.
I retired in Cicarus’ former tent, and brought Myrnna in with me. We had spoken little since I had rescued them from the loch-thing, but for the first time since before I had botched the cattle raid, I could rest. I had my men. I had my oath. Soon, I would have my revenge.
Lying next to Myrnna vexed me. Her soft white arm brushed mine. Her lithe body heaved slowly. I could not touch her, of course; I had sworn to keep her a maiden until married. This kept me up late. She even rolled over and leaned against me in her sleep, her soft curvaceous form against my shoulder, and I could not sleep at all.
Aster woke me up in the morning. He barged into my tent, and hectored me out, and I found myself dressing hastily for war. He drilled us, us being Cattos, Antedios, Cicarus, and Marthelm. That was how every day went for the next three weeks. We drilled in the mornings, taught mostly by Aster, but occasionally by Tratonius.
Each day, we trained until the late afternoon after much warcraft during the day, and then marched up the hills in the evening. There he educated me in the ways of the Greek, first in the language and its grammar, and from there math, philosophy, physics, history, poetry, music. He educated me daily until midnight. May the gods love him! He taught me so much, and I will forever remember that, and cherish the man. Though, he refused to teach me to write. ‘You’re too old,’ he told me, and Verc once said that men who cannot write have better memories than those who can, so I never pressed it.
Some often spoke of those baleful men called Romans. Tratonius refused to speak about them, though I suspected he knew them well, for he wore some Roman equipment, and was said to have killed a German king when he warred for the Romans, and that is where he had gotten his helmet. The men roused the more they spoke and drank, and finally one evening, Marthelm spoke to me.
‘Remember these words, Celt,’ he said, and he crossed his arms to show the deep scars across them like black ink. ‘We will not tolerate the Romans forever. Soon we Germans will break over the Alps like a river over a dike after a hard rain and at high tide. We will end the menace once and for all.’
‘I drink to that!’ Orca shouted, his words slurred, spit hit me in the eye. He leaned his great girth over me and banged his cup against Marthelm’s and then mine, and we all drank. I thought from the way they described the Romans and their triumphs that they would not succumb so easily. I agreed with them to show solidarity with their plight, for I was their leader.
They told stories every night around the fire. It attracted us like crabs to dead fish, and we gorged on the stories. Often we stayed up so late that, while I was a young lad and so were some of my men, the older men suffered for it yet they trudged through the following day bemoaning their previous night, only to drink themselves silly again the next.
Their stories thrilled me beyond belief. Luceo, you were fortunate to ride with some of these men and hear their tales. I heard of great battles on mountain passes. I heard of giant animals called elephants that men ride and shoot arrows from and are so monstrous that they can kill a man by just stepping on him, yet it feared mice like mice fear hawks. I heard of Egyptians and their magic and great towers of stone. I heard of Jews, who deny all gods except for one, and that one demands their foreskins as a sacrifice. I heard of men that live so close to the sun that it burns their bodies black and fries their hair into grizzle. I heard of men in the far northern edge of the world who have become so used to the cold that they sleep naked in the snow, and beyond them, men with fur like wolves. Then there were the Amazons out in the east, who chopped their right breasts off so that they may fire their bows easier without their milk-givers in the way. They enslaved men and bred the best men and women like lords breed horses. I heard tales of sea monsters with tentacles that can wrap around the greatest of Greek ships. I heard of Etruscans, Macedonians, Thracians, Nemidians and other people that seemed so distant and dreamlike. Most of all, I heard the stories of my father from Tratonius, and I lapped up the stories, the thirsty and grateful dog that I was. I memorized them so I may tell them to my children.
Though sometimes, my mind drifted. I thought of how the truce we had with the Hillmen would end soon, and that the men would want a new truce, but I would not grant them that. I thought of Bodvoc rotting in my home, and Fennigus and Ambicatos and all my clansmen all rotting in the moors outside Dun Ashaig. I thought of Dun Torrin, where Myrnna may finally be safe.
Once, at midday, while we sat on a hillock, shirtless and sweaty in the high noon sun, and bruised after a long day of training, Antedios and Cattos complained that they had no more food left to eat.
‘There’s fish,’ I said.
‘We don’t eat fish,’ Cattos said.
‘Then eat it anyway,’ I said.
‘We can’t eat fish. It’s against our laws.’
‘And besides, who wants to eat fish? They’re slimy and disgusting,’ Antedios said.
‘Then we will hunt a seal,’ I said. Some seals had been basking out in the sheltered shore nearby.
‘Not seals either,’ Cattos said. ‘They’re just fish-dogs.’
I started down the beach to return to the camp and search for food. Just on our camp’s edge, I found two dogs chasing gulls and scavenging around the shells. They were sleek, one grey, and one brown, short-haired with long, pointed faces and floppy ears. They were without mange, and I knew them to be hunting hounds from Albion. Only kings could have had such dogs as companions. How they ended up on Skye, I never knew.
I walked toward the dogs and whistled to catch their attention, and they ran toward me, kicking up sand and shells, and both lunged at me. Soon I found myself on the ground with wet tongues slopping all over my face, and I hugged them both and patted them on the head and they pranced around me as I climbed to my feet. I found them to be a high omen from Nodens, god of dogs, and I reckoned to sacrifice to him that night as thanks for his gift.
‘You are my dogs now!’
I ran off toward the camp, where the billow of smoke smouldered into the sky. The slave girls had been cooking more ling, cockles, and mussels. The hounds chased after me, and soon both ran at my flanks, and then they ran in front of me and we reached the camp.
‘We’re hungry,’ Verc said, as he kneeled to pat one hound, the grey one, on the head. The brown one was in Orca’s lap, licking him on his bristly face. He laughed aloud and hugged the dog tightly until it whined.
‘Why can’t you just eat fish?’ I asked.
‘These bog people,’ Aldryd said, slurping a raw cockle up. ‘They won’t eat anything from the sea. Fish. Shellfish. Seals. Birds. Nothing. Damned stupid, it is.’
‘The sea is where one goes when they die. It is the gateway to Otherworld. Eating a fish may jinx you,’ Verc said. ‘Listen now, lad, I marched with Tratonius’ sellswords for over a decade and he never complained that I didn’t eat fish. You’re the leader, so you have to feed your men, and what do you do when they don’t eat fish?’
I said nothing.
‘Hunt, boy, you hunt! No one owns this land now, so no one will challenge our right to hunt. We are lawful in this pursuit. You even have two hunting hounds, and it is that time of the year when the bucks are rutting. At twilight, we grab our spears and the hounds, and pray to Cernunnos that he blesses us with a buck.’
Verc was, of course, right. To hunt was the simplest solution. I had eleven bellies to fill, including us ten warriors, and we were always hungry. Just one buck would last a long time for all of us, but I still did not understand why these ‘bog people’ as Aldryd called them just could not eat fish.
Late that afternoon, we headed up into the hills. Verc, Cattos, Antedios, the German slave girls, and the two dogs. I allowed the men to name the dogs. Antedios named the sleek grey one Chaser since he liked to chase gulls, and Cattos named the brown one, with whitened age around his nuzzle, Groaner since he mumbled when he sat down or got up. ‘We should have named him Orca – they’re both grey around the face, and they both groan all the time,’ Cattos said.
We passed through the scrubby moors, through the pass of black craggy mountains of Cullinan, and into the old pine forest.
The slave girls, guarded by Cattos, went off to forage, while Verc, Antedios, and I sent the hounds through the forest. We brought longspears with flame-shaped blades, and we’d hoped for the hounds to flush out a stag toward us. We searched the pine carpet for signs of our quarry, and found deer droppings and freshly broken shrubs, along with deep hoofprints. We followed them with the pine canopy above us. Slowly, steady, ready to earn our dinner. I had loved hunting ever since I was little and my father had taken me out into Alba to hunt whenever he came to visit, and now I hunted with longspears, hounds, and men sworn to me. We were even dressed in our war clothes while we stalked the forest for our prey. I thought my father would look proudly upon me for that.
