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

  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, Calac
h 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.