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

  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. S
low 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.”