Caledonii: Birth of a Nation. (Part One: The Great Gather) Read online

  As Pell pulled the flap of the tent open, he interrupted a conversation between the waking brothers. He waited.

  “Yes?” Neall snapped. The sleep still encrusted one eye. He pulled at his eyelid with dirty fingers.

  “Chief Neall, it is time to meet in the circle.” Pell said, his head bowed, the smell of stale sweat and cold breakfast assaulting him from inside the tent.

  For a moment, the Damon chief seemed to ignore the dhruid, then said simply to Wesson: “Let’s go.”

  The two men took large bites from the bread and cheese, threw it back into the tent, and roughly brushed past Pell on their way to the circle.

  As the young dhruid followed, he wore a knowing smile.

  My turn will come Neall. Soon you will throw yourself at my feet and beg for my help. Play your game for now and savor your success. It will not last long.

  ~ ~ ~

  Conrack lay, supine, in perfect camouflage, his dirk in his hand, ready.

  So much rough moor grass was twisted in his hair and through his clothes that it was difficult to see his hair’s red colour. The remains of two quail lay in a cloth-wrapped parcel near his other hand. The larger joint of meat had turned out to be pork; juicy and well cooked. The meat now filled his belly, and he still had some in his saddlebag. He would not be hungry like yesterday.

  He was in the perfect position. He would watch it all from the hill and retire to his camp at nightfall. A sentry walking a dozen paces from him, would have strolled by unaware. But there were no sentries. They worked on the evening meal in the camp.

  “Unguarded.” he said. “Amateurs!”

  He spat into the grass in front of him. “Aretha, change the wind so I can hear what they’ll be saying!”

  He watched the procession of dhruids and clansmen as they walked towards the circle.

  He waited for the wind to change.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kheltine climbed onto the central flat altar stone, his long white hair drifted in the breeze.

  “Make yourselves as comfortable as you can.” said the old dhruid, his voice easily carrying to everyone present. “You can sit or lie down, but please.... be comfortable.”

  There was a rustle of bodies as they settled on the grass. Usually they would stand for the arch-dhruid.

  “Most of you know me.” He began, “I am Kheltine, dhruid of the Votadin, Arch-dhruid in the Norlands. I am the High dhruid of Kernos; the Earth Spirit. As the senior dhruid in the Norlands, I welcome you all to Circal Rosich.”

  The old Votadin dhruid looked at the assembled chiefs and entourage who sat in a scattered group inside the stone circle itself. All seventeen clans were represented, and with the extra dhruids, over sixty men were on the grass surrounded by the tall grey-pink stones. The old Votadin dhruid stood on the central sacrifice stone, and smiled as he nodded and smiled to individual clan chiefs.

  “With the exception of Ranald and clan Caledon, you all have travelled far to be here today. Some have journeyed many days to hear what we have to say. To you all, I thank you.” Kheltine paused, sweeping his hand from side to side, letting the magnitude of his words carry to the audience. “Never before have all the chiefs of the Norland clans met together. This is indeed historic.”

  “Five summers ago, as some may already know, the senior Norland dhruids attended the ‘Dhruids Torch’, a great gathering in the noble Aviar stone circle in the lands of the far South. At the ‘Dhruids Torch’ we met our brethren from every clan and tribal group in our great land. Many items were discussed by all the dhruids, some of which affected our Norland clans, others which did not. The most important item that we deliberated was the presence of the invaders from Rome in our Southern Brothers’ midst.”

  Calach looked round for Finlass, but could catch no sight of him.

  “Five summers ago, whilst we attended the great gathering, Venutius; king of the Brigantes, overthrew his pro-Roman queen Cartimanda and took over control of his great tribe. I say ‘great’ tribe because his tribe alone numbered three times that of the Caledon clan.”

  There were a few gasps from some of the assembled listeners. The Caledon clan was the largest fighting force in the Norlands, on their own they could outnumber two or three of the smaller clans put together.

  Only Ma’damar’s Meatae clan approached the Caledon warrior contingent.

  “Venutius raised the swords in his tribe,” Kheltine continued, “And again gave the Romans a hostile Brigante nation within their lands.”

  “When Sewell,” he indicated the dhruid who sat at his side, “The Caledon dhruid, passed through Venutius’ lands at the end of the gathering, the king gave his two youngest sons into our good keeping. Venutius was not a stupid man; he knew what he was attempting. Even with his warrior strength, he knew the might of the Roman legions would soon come to bear on his Brigante force. In Sewell’s care, the boys Fetasius and Benelek came to be with the Caledonii clan today.”

  Calach thought about the boys who had been taken in by Mawrin, his mother. They had been so well integrated into Calach’s family that he considered them brothers.

  Kheltine bowed his head for a moment. “The story of the massacre of the Brigante should be a lesson to us all.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Pell and his dhruid brothers sat to each side and behind Kheltine. Outwardly to the clansmen, they seemed to listen to his words and follow the story. Their minds, however, worked together to soothe the clansmen; they wanted no interruptions, they wanted the chiefs receptive to their ideas. They worked as one, mentally saying the words taught to them by Kheltine the evening before.

  By the will of Kernos and the power of Lugh, let them think together.

  Hold them together.

  Hold them.

  All the dhruidic teachings were taught orally, the only written records were of astronomical data; a library which provided the dhruids with the material to predict the seasons, keep the calendar accurately, control the farming year, hold their festivals, and hold meetings like this; in which seventeen parties travel many days to be present at a meeting on one pre-determined day.

  By the will of Kernos and the power of Lugh, let them think together.

  Hold them together.

  Hold them.

  Pell found this exercise quite easy; he was used to trying to deal with Neall on his own. With the rest of the dhruids beside him, the power of the circle beneath and with most of the clan chiefs willing to listen to Kheltine anyway, this part of the plan was easy. The difficult element was still to come.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kheltine went on. “Travelling north, Sewell and the two boys took rest with the Selgove and Votadin clans, in part for safety, but also to gauge their reaction to the Roman expansion north.”

  Kheltine paused slightly and bowed his head. Calach thought that the old man looked tired. When Kheltine looked up, he gazed directly at the young Caledon. Kheltine paused, seemingly in contemplation, his eyes burning into Calach’s head.

  You, Calach!

  Calach physically gave a start. As he calmed, he knew that Kheltine had spoken directly into his head.

  “Four summers ago, Venutius and the entire Brigante nation was crushed by two great Roman armies. His warriors scattered to the four winds; a dark day for all. The old queen Cartimanda now rules under Roman law. We all know the courage of the Brigante warriors. We all know that they would not have died easily. ‘We all give praise to Kernos for their safe journey to Him’.”

  The dhruids around Kheltine murmured in unison the response to the words of Kernos; the god of the underworld and afterlife.

  The decimation of the Brigante tribe in three days was indeed a chilling reminder of the destructive military force of the Romans. At the news of his father’s death at the hands of the Romans, Fetasius, at the age of only six summers, had assumed the mantle of the chief of the Brigantes in the Norlands. There was a growing contingent of Brigante warriors in Ranald’s clan, drawn by the young boys. So many Brigante had been acc
epted into the Caledon clan that one in ten of their fighting force was Brigante.

  Kheltine took a deep breath, then proceeded with his history lesson. “Three summers ago the Romans spent the year subjugating the Brigante people. Many thought that they would be satisfied with the land they had conquered.”

  “Last summer, the Brigante survivors that came north were given equal status in the clans in which they served. Most of you now count Brigante warriors as your own. One day they will return to their lands as liberators of their own people, but that may be a long time in the future.”

  The arch-dhruid spread his arms wide. “I have now come to the most important part.” He paused, looking at the gathered clansmen. “For the last two summers the Roman leader, a man called Petilius Cerealis, has busied himself building roads towards the Norlands. Their roads run as straight as the crow would fly.” He brought his hands together with a loud crack. If any of the clan chiefs had been inattentive, they now were listening to Kheltine’s every word.

  “I have thanked you all for coming here today, but now I thank two of you in particular. Two chiefs have left their homes with the Romans at their door; Torthor of the Selgove, and Pe’weric of the Votadin.”

  There was a murmur through the crowd, the chiefs next to Torthor slapped his back, Pe’weric shied away from contact.

  Calach could see them both from his position.

  “At the end of their roads the Romans have built a huge fort; a staging post for their next move. One is at the edge of Selgove land, is this not true Torthor?” Kheltine indicated that the chief of the Selgove should speak.

  He slowly got to his feet and turning round, spoke to the assembled gathering.

  “Aye it’s true, they took over the old Brigante settlement at Carlee, an’ built a huge wall round it, two full men high. They’ve got so many men stationed there an’ more arriving every day, they’re bound to invade our lands someday soon. There can’t be any other reason for the buildup o’ men.” Torthor turned to Kheltine for some sign of affirmation on a speech well made. The old dhruid smiled at the Selgove chief and Torthor sat down again. Still the assembled clans kept silent. There had been a nodding of heads through Kheltine’s speech and Torthor’s declaration, but no one dared to speak.

  “They have also built a huge fortification at the other side of the country, near the southern edge of Votadin lands,” Kheltine continued, nodding towards Pe’weric, the Votadin chief. If the arch-dhruid wanted Pe’weric to speak, he was disappointed, the Clan leader just nodded emphatically and sat with a determined look.

  “They are building roads and fortifications ready for movement north. Of that there is no doubt.” Kheltine continued, frowning slightly at Pe’weric.

  “For the last two years, they have readied themselves for the final push into the Norlands. We dhruids have information from inside these two fortifications which suggest that this is indeed the case.”

  “Here I need to say again that a force of three times the size of the Caledons was crushed in as many days.”

  “There is nothing at the end of these roads except the Norlands. So where do these Romans think they are going to travel next? Will they use them for trade? Have they used the roads for trade in the past?” His voice began to rise, stifling any answers from those gathered. “Ask Boudicca if they used their roads for peaceful trade! Ask Venutius!”

  He paused, looking at each chief individually. His eyes were wide and bloodshot.

  “We feel that there is only one thing we can do.”

  Calach was totally captivated by the rich deep rasping voice.

  He’s getting near to the point now.

  Kheltine stood shaking, his voice was getting stronger with every word. “If any of you here think that they are building these roads for trade, let me tell you that you are suffering a delusion!” He brandished a finger, held shaking before him. “They have only one aim; to conquer our lands and enslave us all!”

  He paused, letting the import of his words get to the assembly.

  Calach had felt the tension rise in the listening group for the last few moments, he felt nervous and eager, yet did not know why. He held his breath waiting for the arch-dhruid to speak.

  This is it.

  “We now call on every clan leader here. We ask you to unite the clans!”

  Perfect timing!

  ~ ~ ~

  Pell winced slightly as Kheltine made the crucial statement, and as he did so he concentrated on making the clan leaders silent and receptive.

  By the will of Kernos and the power of Lugh, let them think together.

  Hold them together.

  Hold them.

  Knowing that this was the most critical time in the whole gathering did not make their task any easier. This would be followed by an explanation of the strategy behind the unification plans.

  Pell began to sweat.

  Something is changing! Control is slipping away!

  He felt the mental presence of the other dhruids aid him to keep the gathering together, then he vaguely heard someone speak, he wasn't sure who it was, but someone spoke, then the shouting broke out and Pell felt his concentration falter.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Never!” one chief roared.

  “Wait, let him speak!” roared another.

  “I'll no’ happen in my lifetime!”

  Some of the chiefs began to scramble to their feet, gesticulating widely.

  “It'd never work!”

  “Typical bloody flatlanders!” There was a grabbing of clothes and a few struggles began.

  “Oh aye, an’ you would do better?”

  Some of the clansmen were on their feet, some angry, some trying to calm the others down. Some were trying to make their own points over the building rabble. Calach still sat on the grass with a few of the others and looked around in bewilderment at the disorder.

  What are they doing? They’re going against the dhruids!

  He watched Finlass do the same, at one point their eyes met with the same unsaid message.

  “You’ll never do it!” came the shout from one side.

  “Come on, we’ve got to do something against those......!”

  “We'll never go to battle together!”

  Calach saw Ma’damar through the mass of protesting bodies, thrusting his way towards him. Then he realized that his father was also standing. Calach made to rise, but was knocked to the grass again as another body joined the fray. The gathering was in chaos. Ma’damar stood face to face with Ranald, their eyes locked in hatred, shouting at the top of their voices.

  “We’ve got to unite, it’s the only way!” Came a shout from behind.

  The two main protagonists were now standing nose to nose, shouting at each other. Calach noticed Finlass trying unsuccessfully to pull his father back. He made to rise again, then a foot landed squarely in Calach’s lap, pinning him to the ground. His cry of pain was lost amongst the clamor in the circle.

  “By Lugh’s name! Let me up!”

  Hands and arms appeared from all sides to pry the two apart. There was such a cacophony of different voices and viewpoints that Calach could not make out what anyone was saying, but of one thing he was certain; the meeting was over.

  Then, as if by some unseen signal, one by one, the clansmen fell silent, turning their heads towards Kheltine. Calach eventually got to his feet and realized that all the dhruids were also standing, their arms crossed over their bodies, heads bowed low.

  There was absolute silence in the circle.

  Then the dhruids began to chant; a soft, lilting, rhythmical hum.

  As one they lifted their heads; their eyes unfocused, the clansmen were transfixed.

  Kheltine raised his hands, and spoke above the chant. “You have dared to lift your voices in the circle!”

  The chanting dhruids fell silent.

  “You have usurped my authority as arch-dhruid!”

  The realization of what they had done fell over the clan members, and those
most guilty stood like scolded children, ashamed at their actions. Even Calach felt humiliated at the behavior of his fellow clansmen.

  “Kernos, God of the Underworld, forgive us what we have done,” said the old dhruid, lifting his arms to the sky.

  “Kernos forgive us.” murmured the other dhruids.

  Kheltine looked around at the assembly. “We will try in future to conduct ourselves with the dignity the circle deserves!”

  Again the assembled dhruids mouthed their response.

  “The clan chiefs will stay in the circle,” Kheltine said, his voice soft and calm. “All the others must now go out of hearing and sight of Circal Rosich. We will begin again when we have the clan chiefs alone.”

  I don’t get to stay? This is unfair! It wasn’t my fault!

  Calach turned indignantly and left the stone circle in the direction of the broch, the quickest way to lose sight of the stone circle. As he passed the large pink-grey stone, he paused and let his fingers run across its smooth surface. He made a personal apology to Kernos for the behavior of his father, who had been arguing with the best of them, and spat on the ground as a sacrifice to help his apology get to the Earth Spirit.

  “Calach!” he recognized Finlass’s voice. “Join us!”

  ~ ~ ~

  Conrack watched the small group assemble on the hillside. He recognized two of the four.

  And I hate them both!

  The wind that he offered prayer for, had never arrived. He had watched as the old dhruid addressed the assembly within the circle, and looked on with a satisfied sneer as the others in the delegations were banished from the circle.