Caledonii: Birth of a Nation. (Part Three; The Coming of Age) Page 6

  The Caledon lands were entirely land-locked; and Calach had begun to see why his father had closed his mind to the idea of Roman invasion. Perhaps if he had travelled outside Caledon lands, he might have got a clearer understanding of the situation.

  When the small party had reached Staven, the meeting between Calach and Chief Ter’eak was short. Because of past ties with the Caledons, the chief had quickly agreed to send warriors if needed to bolster the Caledon force, and nodded an unconcerned assent to the minor matter of his main chief in the south to marry as he saw fit. Calach had reminded an elated Eorith that Gillaine still had to agree to allow his daughter to marry. As they parted outside Staven, the Taexal warrior rode south, shouting over his shoulder a promise to send an invitation to the wedding.

  It had been another wedding Calach would miss. The couple was married quickly, and Anne’s belly had begun to show before winter had set in.

  Spring arrived early, with a false summer, then more frost. But by the feast of Bealtan; the first day of Summer, when the cattle and sheep were driven to the higher pastures, Calach and Aysar were on their way again.

  With Ranald’s men shadowing them for the first few days, they had travelled north.

  The northern borders of the Caledon lands were held by the Vacomags and the Decants, and both showed Calach every respect as Ranald’s son. It was more difficult to persuade these northern clans about the necessity for unity, but Calach had been content with the progress that had been made. The thought that if the Caledon clan were to fall, they would be in immediate jeopardy, made their argument slightly easier.

  Calach might have been forbidden to travel west, but it had not stopped him advancing the plan.

  And Ranald did not suspect a thing!

  ~ ~ ~

  Uwan sat cross-legged with Sewell in the circle. The sun had set not long before and Uwan knew that they were beginning one of their deep learning sessions. His first year under Sewell’s tutelage had gone quickly, and his progress had been swift; he had heard Sewell say as such. There had even been hints that his year of solitude would come quicker for him than any other Sewell had ever known.

  “You strip the bark from the willow in short thin pieces, like this.” Sewell rubbed at a piece of bark with a jagged shaving of sharp flint. “The scraps of willow bark must be very thin and almost wafer-like.”

  As he worried at the length of willow, Uwan looked at Sewell’s work carefully and made mental notes of all his teacher’s movements. He was not allowed to speak unless he first raised his hand and was granted permission. He had taken to the dhruidic training really well, and he knew that Sewell was pleased with his progress. Under his elder’s guidance, Uwan had developed his senses to such a stage that he could tell the emotion of most of the dhruids at will. Sewell said that a deeper knowledge would come later, like so much of the other, more difficult, disciplines.

  “When you’ve gathered enough of the shaved willow bark,” Sewell continued. “You mix it with the same amount of rowan bark, gathered from in or near a sacred circle. If you can gather from within the circle, more the better.”

  Sewell took a leather satchel from his belt and began to place smaller leather pouches from inside on a flat recumbent stone which lay between them.

  “Pick out the willow and the rowan, Uwan. You may speak.”

  Uwan examined the knots which tied the various pouches closed, then chose two and handed them to Sewell. “These are the two you need, master.” He indicated one of the chosen pouches. “This is the willow.”

  With no written language to help them, the dhruids used a system of knots to identify the different dried herbs, and other useful materials. Uwan had learned all of the knots shown to him, and exhausted the knowledge of all his teachers at most of his other subjects.

  Sewell opened the two pouches carefully and placed a handful of each bark in a hollow on the flat stone, carefully mixing the two together.

  “We now need some fire.” Sewell said.

  A young dhruid appeared at Sewell’s side with a small lit taper. Uwan feigned fright at the other man’s sudden appearance, it was good to keep some secrets. Uwan had known of the young dhruids approach long before. He had even ‘watched’ him, as the young dhruid had knelt and waited for Sewells supposedly secret summons. Uwan had felt the summons too, though he knew that he should not have.

  Sewell had used a simple ‘come now’. Uwan could understand much more complex thoughts than that, but he smiled inwardly at the younger dhruids limitations. He watched as Sewell smiled, a condescending smile to Uwan’s reaction that he had not anticipated the newcomer’s sudden arrival. Next time Uwan would be less surprised. He must show Sewell that he was learning.

  “Thank you Travaile,” Sewell nodded to the other dhruid. Then, taking the burning, wooden taper. “You are no longer needed.” With a small bow to both Sewell and Uwan, Travaile, turned and silently moved out of the circle.

  Sewell placed the lit taper into the mix of dried bark; the fluffy strands caught alight instantaneously, burning fiercely in a red, almost pink glow. Sewell reached into another pouch and sprinkled a dust into the flames, which turned a deep purple and blue as the powder descended into the fire proper.

  “This is elderberry sand, Uwan.” Sewell said in answer to the boy’s unasked question. “Over-ripe elderberries, dried and ground to a fine sand. They purify the flames and add the colour of the sky to the ashes.”

  Uwan watched as Sewell let the bark burn, turning the red, glowing embers with the end of the taper so that it all would burn, leaving only the ash behind. Uwan had seen the process before, and probably could conduct the ritual, but every time in the past, the ash was for someone else. This time it was for him.

  The realization hit him before he knew it.

  Solitude. Sewell’s going to send me away.

  “Hand me the staff, Uwan.” Sewell held out his hands, into which Uwan placed his staff. A straight core of rowan wood, almost as long as Uwan was tall, stripped of its bark, and dried carefully to avoid splitting. There was a carved grip at one end. “Cup the ash in both hands.” continued Sewell. “It’s time to begin.”

  The dhruid watched as Uwan lifted up the still glowing ash and rubbed it into the staff, which the older man held tightly. As Uwan neared his hands, he shifted his grip until the whole staff was coloured a dusky grey from the ash.

  “Say the litany with me Uwan. You may speak.”

  They chorused together. “Lugh, from the earth to the sky. Lugh from the flames to the air. Lugh, from the flames in the air to the sky.”

  After they had repeated the chant four times, Sewell gave the staff to Uwan.

  “You have completed the first part of dhruid training. You must take pride in the fact that you have completed this faster than anyone I have witnessed. Let not your pride weaken your resolve with false knowledge. You have your staff. Go forth into the moors and return one year from today.”

  Uwan slowly stood up, still holding the staff horizontally.

  “You know the counting, Uwan. You know the times of the seasons and the festivals. You will not talk to anyone, you will not enter any place of habitation other than those built near the sacred circles for the specific purpose.”

  Uwan began to pace backwards, retreating from both Sewell and the circle. Sewell spoke louder.

  “You know the counting of the days. You will mark your staff accordingly. You must return one year from today. Any deviation from these rules and you will cease to exist.”

  Uwan nodded.

  “Open your mind to me Uwan.”

  The young Caledon dhruid closed his eyes. He let Sewell speak into him, but kept part of his mind back. The part which Sewell did not know.

  Go now.

  (Sadness)

  Go now. Come back.

  (Pride)

  Uwan knew that he should not feel the emotion behind the words. He knew that Sewell was not giving him that information; Uwan was taking it; and taking it witho
ut the older dhruid’s knowledge.

  “Go.” Sewell said after a long pause. “Go Uwan, and return one year from today.”

  Uwan knew that Sewell watched as he drew the hood of his cloak over his head.

  I am a dhruid!

  “One last thing Uwan.” Sewell said. “There is a collection of utensils at the north gate. Calach, your birth-brother is guarding it for you. These tools will help you through your year.”

  It is a test! He’s testing me to see if I say “goodbye” to my birth-brother!

  With a smooth swing of his newly consecrated staff, Uwan turned and left the circle. The smile which crossed his face from ear to ear did not diffuse as he neared the north gate.

  ~ ~ ~

  Calach had been surprised earlier that day when Sewell approached him. He had not seen much of the Caledon dhruid during the years of Uwan’s training.

  With piercing eyes, Sewell had told him to prepare a small food bag, a dirk, an axe, and a roll of blankets and leave them outside the gate to the north pasture. He instructed Calach that he could wave to the dhruid as he passed, but not to try to talk to him.

  It was the first time Sewell had asked him to attend to such a duty; innately Calach knew that the bundle was for Uwan.

  Calach had bid his younger brother farewell, before his trip to Bar’ton, and had been surprised when, on his return, he had found him to have been initiated. Calach had not said a word to him since. By law, he could not. He had glimpsed Uwan from time to time, but he always followed another dhruid. Now it was his brother’s time for solitude. The final test.

  With a start, he saw the staffed figure approach in the dark.

  Definately Uwan.

  Calach walked backwards away from the bundles on the ground as Uwan advanced.

  Even in the darkness, Calach could see Uwan’s smile. It was almost as if he could feel his brother’s happiness.

  He watched as the dhruid gathered the dirk and axe and slip them into his belt. The bundle, he placed under his arm and then Uwan paused, looking at him.

  Then with a wave of his staff, he wandered into the night.

  ~ ~ ~

  With a bundle of blankets on his back, an axe and dirk in his belt, and his staff swinging in front of him, the grey-robed Uwan wandered north. He walked past the Caledon forests, up into the moors, then farther north again; across crag and mountains. He continued across the barren wilds until the land became dotted with trees and bushes again. Then he began to look for a place to stay. He had determined that he would either find a cave, or spend the first few days building a wooden shelter. As he walked through the thickening forest, he glimpsed a deep black as the ground rose abruptly.

  A cave!

  He gave thanks to every conceivable god, and examined the cave until his fingers could not reach any further. The cave was, in actuality, little more than a deep crevice in the bare rock, but it extended twice the length of his body before tapering to a crack. It would keep him dry through the winter.

  With his small axe, Uwan fashioned a framework to hang one of his blankets on, and finished the waterproofing at the top of the entrance with pieces of cut turf. The blanket curtain would keep most of the cold autumnal wind and rain from entering.

  He slept cold that first night, and made plans for a fire which would be kept burning near the curtain, both for the heat and to ward off bear and wolf; both of which could be unwelcome visitors for a dhruid who was, with the exception of his dirk and axe, unarmed.

  Uwan quickly set himself into a routine which was structured and orderly; he considered it the only way that he could make it through the next year. Each morning he would bank up the fire, and fix something to eat. He would gather more wood for the fire which he would pile near the door behind the curtain to dry. Each day he would gather mushrooms, tubers, nuts and berries; he stored some for drying, and washed the others, ready for cooking. Each afternoon he would walk the forest, both in contemplation and to explore the surrounding area.

  His staff never left his side. The staff may not have been the key to his survival in the coming year, but Uwan knew that without it he would perish at the end of his trial.

  The staff was his means of counting the days. Every morning he carefully took the staff, and sitting cross-legged on his bracken and blanket bed, marked a new groove. There had been three grooves when he had discovered the cave; three days of walking. There would be twelve groups of thirty grooves and a single small group of five grooves cut into the staff when he would return to Sewell.

  Twelve groups of thirty grooves; the days of the year for the people, and five separate grooves; the five festival days for the gods. One day each for Lugh, the god of the earth, Brigit; the goddess of creativity, Yanus; god of the summer, and Aretha; goddess of the winter, and Lugnas, god of the moon. This was the dhruid’s way of counting through the year.

  After each groove was cut, he would carefully count them, making sure in his mind of the progress of the calendar. He would not hear the feasting of the villagers to make sure he was on track; the nearest village was too far away. He would not hear the bells of Bealtan, nor would he hear any of the other feasting days. This was his ‘time of counting’ and for the sake of his life, he ensured that he would count accurately.

  On his fourth day at his cave, he had noticed clansmen in the wood, near a tall pine tree. Their garb and weapons gave their purpose as a hunting party, probably out looking for deer or boar. Uwan quickly pulled his hood over his head and froze, if the hunters came nearer or attempted to make contact with him, he would run away, and find another place to stay.

  “Oh Lugh.” He mouthed quietly. “Let them see me and leave.”

  Seemingly in accordance with his wishes, he heard one of the hunters saying something to the other, then they moved back into the forest the way they had come.

  Thank you Lugh, and all who are looking over me.

  He took his knife and went to the tree where he had seen the hunting party. Against the rough, hard bark he scratched one circle, then another, then joined them with a line. A mark of the dhruid order. He stepped back to admire his efforts; if the party returned, they could not fail to see his work.

  Two days later, as Uwan made his way past the same tree, he could not fail to notice a course linen bag, hanging from one of the lower branches. He advanced on the bag as if it contained the greatest poison, and when he reached the spot, he prodded it with his staff. Something hard and lumpy inside. He carefully opened it and found it full of fruit and vegetables; things he could neither grow nor find in the wild.

  He smiled openly and thanked the gods again for their guidance to choose this site, then returned to the cave with the food. He wondered if they would fill the bag again if he returned it. Then deliberations over, he decided that he would replace the empty bag after a few days, there was no need to burden himself with more than he could eat.

  Again he said words of gratitude to Lugh for his good fortune in finding such a bountiful place.

  As he became accustomed to the solitude, and with less time needed for the finding of food, he began his studies in earnest. He spent most of his days and some nights in quiet contemplation, either high on nearby hill or deep within the forest. During the day, he recalled the teachings of Sewell and watched nature unfold around him. He meditated both on his insignificance in the vastness of the country, and on how powerful his talents made him. He contemplated on how and where his arts and talents could be used. The ethics of spell-casting, (considering how he had been caught by Sewell that night long ago), were high on his list of priorities. He practiced his spells; his ‘magic’s’.

  In idle moments he carved intricate patterns into the branches of the trees nearby the cave, marking his own personal territory. In time, he hung dried bones from the tree branches which made sounds as they clinked together in the breeze. He was making the forest his own territory.

  It was on one of his walks, early that first Autumn that he encountered the stone cir
cle. He had wandered high up on the treeless moor, above the forest where his cave lay, and the discovery had brightened him considerably. From the length of the grass within it, and the lichens on the stones themselves, Uwan assumed that it was no longer used by the local dhruids. This made it permissible for him to use; there was no chance of meeting members of the brotherhood here.

  There were eleven stones in all, one of which was on its side flanked by two standing stones. This was the altar stone. The eight other stones, although the circle was neglected, were still standing straight. Uwan decided that it was good fortune again to have his own private circle to attend and practice in. One stone was different in colour from the rest; a deep red granite, hard and beautiful. This was the ‘eye stone’, the stone from which the measurements of the stars and the sun and moon would be taken. Every day he would cut some of the grass within the circle with his dirk; it was hard work, but only a moon later, the grass was short and even.

  He watched the weather; how the sky changed before the rain, how the air in the forest smelled different before and after a heavy rainstorm. He watched the forest’s reaction to a few days of sunshine; how it became dry and barren, how some plants thrived in the dryness, and how some waited expectantly for the rain. Gradually, methodically, he catalogued all the things he saw into places in his mind where he could recall them later. He became an expert on the world around him.

  Many nights he spent watching the stars, he lay on his back in the stone circle watching their slow passage across the night sky. He watched the constellations, recalled their names; the bear, the fox, the eagle and the cat. He watched the ‘travellers’, the erratic stars, some bright, some dark and dim as they travelled through the constellations. He wondered why the constellations had never changed. They had been the same since the beginning of time. When he saw one of the stars dart quickly across the sky, he knew that another light in the sky had died; that a small star from between the constellations had gone forever. He gave thanks to Brigit for his birth, and hoped that he would never see the day when all stars in the sky would dart across and die. Some nights he would count two or three darting stars. Some nights they would move all night, never ceasing. Somehow the main stars in the constellations never died, just the small ones too numerous to count.