Celtika (42 page)

‘She was full of our child, Niiv. We both knew the child would be dangerous. We had gone out on the lake to deliver it and drown it in Enaaki’s water. But your ancestor died in the act of delivery, and for reasons I will never understand, I couldn’t kill the new-born. I brought the girl back with me. I left her with your people.’

‘So then: we
are
related!’ She cast the dead bird away from her.

‘Yes. We are. Alas. And you: your half-child. Do you still carry it?’

‘Oh yes,’ she taunted, though the taunt fell short of its mark. ‘But it’s very small. And very patient! You
will
have need of me, Merlin. There are exciting times to come.’

Not if I had anything to do with it, I thought as I rode grimly down the valley, only once looking back to see a dark tree on the hill, its branches raised above its head, waving side to side as if in a wild wind.

Goodbye, Niiv. For the moment.

But still she had the last word, her voice drifting to me down the defile as I rode back to Brennos, a voice carrying a message that would haunt me.

‘I didn’t tell you
everything
I saw, Merlin … not everything I saw…’

*   *   *

The earth began to shake again. Men on horse and foot, oxcarts and rattling chariots covered the hills, cut noisily through the river, some even following the coast, a double defile of laughing warriors, riding through the dawn swell of the gleaming sea.

In two days, we had reached Thermopylae.

*   *   *

The land had been rising steeply for some time, the valleys narrowing and heavy with tall cedar and pine, a heady swathe of green that deadened sound and made passage difficult. A pristine azure sky was almost blinding to look at. Tumbling streams covered dangerously slippery rocks, and horses struggled and stumbled, slowing the column. Brennos’s army was dispersed widely through these hills, and if the Greeklanders were waiting for us here, they would have been able to cut us to shreds.

In fact, this was deserted land. The game had fled before us, or perhaps had never existed. When at last we emerged to face the stark ridge of mountain, we found ourselves at the edge of a narrow plain, shining with the crushed white bones of men. These were the dead of previous attempts to penetrate Thermopylae, dragged here and left to rot, scavenged and dispersed, then crushed by winter rain and the hooves of passing animals.

The mountain range stretched to left and right as far as the eye could see, so sheer in places that it was falling under its own weight. Trees hugged the cliffs in desperation, leaning out towards us. The sky was so bright that to scan its high edges was to lose sight for a moment. Frothy clouds scudded over that stark line, and hawks hovered.

But these mountains were split, a vertical cut so narrow that it might literally have been cut with a knife. It took time to focus on that gorge. The pass twisted out of sight only a short way beyond the mouth; all light seemed to drain from the passage. A mournful wind flowed from it. Of more significance was the spear that rose from the ground to guard it: immensely tall, hewn I expect from a single pine, it carried a wide, green-corrupted bronze blade that if it fell could have covered and crushed a hundred men. The trunk-sized shaft was tied about with thousands of fluttering rags: the kilts and cloaks of the dead.

Brennos’s army spread out along the edge of the plain of bones. All attention for the moment was on the spear. But then a man on horseback rode slowly from the narrow pass and came to a stop beside it.

He watched us from the distance. His helmet covered half his face like a half-skull. Dull shining iron, no plume. He was armoured in the Etruscan style, short trousered, iron cuirass over a loose short-sleeved black shirt, shield on his left arm, throwing javelin held low. I could see a trimmed grey beard on the hard face.

I knew who it was at once. Indeed, soon after this steady appraisal of the army ranged against him, Jason removed the helmet and shouted my name across the plain.

Four horsemen rode suddenly and swiftly towards him. He drew back, turning shield-side on, and again called for me. The towering spear cast its shadow over him. A barking command from somewhere along the front line of the army brought the attackers to a halt. They turned and rode back and a while later a chariot clattered down the line, a man shouting, ‘Merlin! Merlin! Go to the horseman!’

I edged forward and halted the chariot. ‘He’s calling for me.’

‘Brennos says to go and talk to him. He seems to know you.’

‘Tell Brennos that this man is my friend; that he is Urtha’s friend; that he poses no danger.’

The Celt in the chariot laughed out loud, no doubt amused by the suggestion that one man could ever pose a danger to such a horde as was opposed to him.

I cantered across the crushed bone and trotted up to Jason, who held my gaze coolly. Behind him, the cleft in the mountain gusted and moaned with an evil wind. This close, I could see that no more than four men abreast could enter it on horse, six on foot, perhaps.

‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ Jason said. ‘I’ve been chasing a ghost.’

‘I know. Tairon told me.’

‘Did he tell you whose ghost it was?’

‘Thesokorus.’

‘He called to me, Merlin. And as I approached, he turned and rode away, like an angry man. I rode as hard as I could but I could never catch him. I should have realised then, I suppose, that he had been sent to betray me. The question is: where did that ghost come from?’

‘Where do you imagine?’

What should I say to him? That Medea was alive and in the world? From the look he was giving me I was sure he suspected that I was keeping a secret from him; and if it had not been for my discovery of Medea’s true nature, I would have told him. But the woman’s face, that look of recognition, that flash of soft, fond memory. I felt I would be betraying her.

Jason said, ‘You saw a ghost in Alba. Could this have been the same ghost?’

‘Perhaps. Jason, I am certain that when Medea hid your sons from you she hid them separately, one in Greek Land and the other on Alba. And each was given the spirit of his brother, to keep them comfortable; to keep them happy. When they reached a certain age, the ghosts disappeared.’

His frown deepened. ‘That’s a strange idea. How can you possibly know this?’

‘Because Orgetorix told me the story of his childhood.’

‘He told
you?
’ Jason was both astonished and outraged. ‘When? When did he tell you? You’ve been with him?’

‘He was with this army. While you were chasing shadows, I met him at the oracle at Arkamon.’

‘And where is he now?’

‘I think he’s gone ahead of us.’ I nodded to the pass.

‘Did he ask about me? Does he know I’m looking for him? Did you tell him?’

‘Not yet…’

Jason was so canny. A half-smile touched those thin lips. His horse struggled, responding to his tension. ‘What are you keeping from me, Merlin? What aren’t you telling me?’

Before I could answer, Elkavar rode noisily across the plain, signalling his advance with punctuated wails of his elbow-pipes; Tairon was close behind him. The wall of Brennos’s army stretched behind them, nervous, restless, waiting for orders. They were keeping at a distance in case the Greeklanders appeared on the high crags above them.

Elkavar reared up and grinned. ‘A message from Bolgios.’

‘Saying what?’

‘What do you think? I have to tell you that there was some very strong language in it. In essence, I think he needs to know what, pretty please, is going on, why, with your kind indulgence, are you sitting here talking, and if you have a moment—when it’s convenient—could you possibly let him or Brennos know whether the pass is clear, secure or dangerous. I think he’s assuming that you’ve just come through the gates…’ This to Jason.

‘I haven’t. That Greeklander did.’ Jason nodded to a naked corpse, curled up and bloody behind the towering spear. I hadn’t noticed the dead man before now. That was where Jason had got his new armour. ‘But there was only one of him. I don’t know the answer to the question.’

‘We could find out,’ Elkavar suggested. He looked up at the imposing rise of dark, gnarl-wooded cliff. ‘There’s no way over, and no way under that I can smell.’ He winked at me, then grinned. ‘By Nemue’s breasts! A while ago we sailed up a stream narrower than the flow of piss on a cold morning after a night of no drinking. I’d have thought we could ride through a cut in the hills like this with impunity. What do you say, Tairon?’

The Cretan’s implacable features didn’t change. He glanced up at the craggy skyline, shrugged, and muttered, ‘Let’s just do it.’

‘Where are Gwyrion and Conan?’ Jason asked.

‘God knows,’ Elkavar said. ‘Drunk, the last I saw of them. I’ll call for them.’

‘And Rubobostes and that huge horse, and Urtha and his faithful
uthiin
too,’ Jason added.

I explained to him that Rubobostes had turned north again; and the situation with Urtha and Ullanna, and Urtha’s combat, had taken the Cornovidians away as well.

It was the first time I had seen Jason sad. He was pleased that Urtha had won his day in the field. ‘I should have stayed,’ he said quietly. ‘I should not have chased ghosts. Urtha’s meeting with that bastard was something else; but I should have stayed for the others. We needed to be together. Damn! Damn!’

‘We have to go forward,’ Tairon said, with a steady gaze at the old Achaean.

‘Yes. I know. Get the Cymbrii.’

Tairon and Elkavar rode back to report.

*   *   *

Four of Bolgios’s men came with us, ready to ride back to the main army if we encountered trouble. And with Jason at the front, we entered the pass. It was cold between those rocks. We seemed to make the cliff faces echo, every stumble, every murmur ringing loudly. The pass wound to right and left, sometimes widening, sometimes narrowing to scarcely more than two men’s widths. Above us, the sky was a thin strip of azure, broken by twisted branches.

‘This is a death trap,’ Elkavar observed unnecessarily. ‘There is certainly movement above us. We are being watched.’

I was sure he was right.

‘Take the reins of my horse,’ I whispered to him, ‘and keep an eye on me.’

He nodded, fully understanding.

I summoned the hawk.

I rose up through the narrow pass, wary for slingshot or arrow. I could see ahead, see how the valley widened, emerging on to a plain, where the Greeklanders waited in massed ranks. The sun was bright on their helmets and shields and horsemen raced along the lines. They knew we were coming. They had created a false forest of pine between themselves and the pass, so that as the first of the Celtic horde emerged they would, for a few moments only, be unaware of what waited for them.

Along the edges of this narrow split in the hills, however, I saw only loose rocks, bushes and wind-stretched trees. A few deer grazed calmly on the wild thyme. Sleeker, faster animals prowled the cover, many of them aware of me as I hovered.

I was surprised, to say the least, that no Greeklander was waiting above us. So what had Elkavar seen?

I took back control of the reins, kicked forward and spoke to Jason.

‘We’re expected. These men will never make it through; and old Achaean that you are, you’re still too strange to these new Greeks. We should turn back and warn Brennos.’

Jason rode on for a few more moments, clearly angry at what he had heard. He wanted to get on. He wanted to catch up with his son. His mind could accommodate no other vision, now that he was so close. And so close to his old home.

But he turned suddenly, nodded curtly, ‘You’re right,’ and Bolgios’s four guards galloped back along the pass, as if pursued by Furies, while the rest of us nervously cantered the return.

We had only just emerged back on to the plain before the first crush of men came pressing in. These were Remii, good horsemen, but with a poor reputation for fighting. Nevertheless, they were eager to clear Thermopylae, and they rode grimly past, shields ready to raise above their heads if the cliffs should start to tumble, long stabbing spears erect.

Brennos had sent them to the sacrifice, hard, calculating man that he was.

Hard behind the Remii, he sent the specialist spearmen of the Tectosages, the
gaesatae,
that same vicious cohort of men who had so brutally sacked Arkamon. They didn’t like the confined space, and pushed hard, shouting loudly for the Remii to shift their horses.

And in this way, they were hastened to their deaths.

I realised, too late, that Medea had blinded my hawk’s eyes, in much the same way as I had taken away the senses of that old man at the watch station. How could I have missed
that,
he had cried. I wonder if he had died still wrestling with the fact that he had felt nothing at all as the earth below his feet had shuddered with the coming army.

And now, I had missed the lines of Greeklanders who occupied the top of the cliffs. The rockfalls that descended upon the crowded army crushed them and broke them, panicked them into riding over each other. The cut in the mountain filled with the dead.

But Brennos pressed on, and men poured into that valley, shields raised high, pushing aside the wounded.

When the rockfall ended, the javelins came down, and the arrows, and the slingshot.

But what a force this army was! Brennos had anticipated problems at Thermopylae. He had given training instructions. As the men from the rear ran forward, they laid shield bridges over the dead. For every man who fell in the pass, five raced on, regrouping where the valley widened, forming quickly into phalanxes of warriors, all clan association forgotten now, just the task ahead on their minds. Weapons were distributed, shared and exchanged; the best with swords took swords from those who were best with spears.

I followed later, but Brennos and Bolgios went through Thermopylae at separate times, to ensure that there was a greater chance of one of them surviving.

They both got through, though Bolgios had lost a finger to a javelin, thrown from high above, that had cut through his hand into the saddle.