The Fox (31 page)

“Come with us and I will find the honey and bread I promised,” I said. “There will be other children there to play with. Logan must be with his father right now.” At the mention of the honey, she ran ahead and called for Rhona.

A crowd had gathered in and near the shelter. It was rigged so it had three walls and a roof to protect us from the rain. The hole in the center of the roof let out the smoke of the blessed oak fire that burned for the duration of the gathering. This was the meeting place of the druids. The chieftains had their shelter and we met for evening meals.

After Crisi was fed and settled with other children under the eyes of the older girls, I followed Lovern into the shelter.

The smoke was thick, but I saw him near a group of white-cloaked druids I quickly assessed as druids I knew.

Rosston was young, a finger taller than I, and had hair the color of a meadow mouse and wide brown eyes. When I looked at him, I thought he was always just out of reach of the owl who was chasing him for dinner. His teacher had recently died. He was living with a clan near ours and was often asking Lovern for assistance or for his opinion. As Lovern had said, “At least he knows what to ask.”

Uilleam was attending his second
mor dal
from a clan north of the meeting place. His look was of the mountain hare. Something on his body was always moving; fingers drummed, or nose and ears twitched as if he had seen an eagle. He didn’t speak until asked and then took the side of the greater number of the group.

Moroug and Coira were partners. Coira was a healer. They brought to mind river otters. Playful and sleek, both with brown hair worn back in leather ties. They never tired of smiling and were hardly ever out of sight of each other. I saw a crying child raise a smile to Coira’s face just in the delight of having a child nearby. I had never heard Moroug speak, but Coira often spoke for him. They lived with a clan near the coast.

Rhona had the look of a mother while she watched Moroug. She touched his arm often. “He has golden light around his body,” she said. “The weight on my shoulders is less when I am near him.”

Nathraichean, the wolf from the east, was speaking, using his hands to emphasize points in the conversation so the others had to step back. Something must be exciting him. I walked closer to hear. He was taller than Lovern and most of the rest of the group surrounding him. Long, straight grey hair cascaded over his shoulders. His matching eyes roved over the attending group. His waving hands covered a great distance. I stood to the side of Lovern, away from Nathraichean’s long reach.

“There are no traders coming from the south any more. We are losing the ancient paths we have walked forever. My friend from the land of Boudiccea has not been seen for two years. In my heart, I know he is dead, but it was not a natural death. My gut is uneasy, and there are words that are passed to us from that part of the land. Slaves. Many are taken as slaves or killed.”

The conversation around us grew quiet. The mention of slaves brought fear to all our hearts. Lovern’s body was locked stiffly next to mine, and he clenched his jaw. His sisters were slaves if they were still alive.

“What are the floating words, the rumors?” Lovern asked. “What do you hear?”

“The wall is being crossed and there are battles every day,” said Rhona. She spoke softly from behind us. As we turned to see her, she held out her hands to me in greeting.

“Good day to you, sister,” she said.

I walked to her; we wrapped our arms around each other and kissed. Her shoulders were still as strong and wide as the first time she gave me support on my trip to Beathan’s tomb. “Good day to you. I hope your family is well.” I remembered my vision and silently wished her many more years with them.

“Yes. We are all well. I noticed Crisi outside. She is graced by the gods.”

I smiled and hung my head in agreement.

“Good day, Rhona,” Lovern said impatiently. “What do you mean the wall is crossed?”

“The floating words say the Roman wall is crossed by Roman warriors trying to take our land sheep by bloody sheep, Lovern.”

“No one here has seen them, have they?” Uilleam asked. “Do we know they want our land or just the few miles near the wall?”

“You are right,” said Coira. “Maybe they will not come to our clans. If we stay away from them and keep to ourselves, they may not war with us.”

“I hear the timid voices of the untried warriors,” Nathraichean said.

“I agree that we must not let them come near our clans,” said Lovern. “I know what they leave behind, only dead and missing. But I do not want to bring them here, either.”

A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd. “We will talk with the chieftains and decide if there should be a plan for the protection of our clans,” said Nathraichean in his deep, calming voice. “We must be ready if they come.”

The tension in the air eased and we went to other conversations. Lovern followed Coira, talking about the illness that vexed him the most, the fever that took children by closing the throat passage and choking. They are always trying new treatments. I prayed for one to work, fearing for Crisi. Rhona and I went to watch Crisi and talked about children until the evening meal when we rejoined our families.

The evening meal was a great, noisy, song-filled event. The hunter-warriors, who followed their chieftains, had killed two bucks that were now being spit roasted. Each had its own man to turn it and keep it from scorching. The fat from the meat dripped into the fire and created a smoke that caused us all to hunger. The mead ran freely, and even Kenric rose to sing our clan song about Beathan. Kenric created a new verse every
dal
and now the song had Beathan killing ten warriors with one blow. I laughed when I heard this and knew Beathan laughed too, on the other side.

I took Crisi by her hand and motioned Logan to follow. At our shelter, Crisi crumpled to her blanket and fell asleep instantly. Logan and I laid next to her for warmth and I fell asleep, the children’s sweet breath on my cheeks.

Daimh, Lovern and Kenric returning awakened me.

“Yes, the talk at our fire earlier was about the Romans,” said Kenric. “There is concern about the lack of trade coming from the south. Even with the wall, trade could continue, and has for many lifetimes. It has diminished greatly this season. We have not decided what to do about it yet. It will be discussed again tomorrow. This is a time to bring the druids and chieftains together, I believe. We have to plan our future tactics if we decide to alter the Roman advance.”

“Yes, after the morning prayers, I agree we should gather,” said Lovern.

Both men became quiet as the night around us fell silent except for the snoring of others asleep. Cuddled between the two warm bodies of the children, I tried to calm my breathing by tracing my maze in my mind. My visions and foretelling of a great battle seemed too close to us now. A
nathair
with a sharp, deadly bite coiled inside my belly and never left me from this time on.

In the morning, I sat stirring cooked barley and goat’s milk for Crisi and Logan. Lovern came to me from his solitary walk and morning prayers.

“I heard you talking last night as you came in,” I said. “Even the chieftains are hearing words of the Romans.”

“Yes, we are all to discuss it today.” Crisi was sitting and playing, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick. He reached down and picked her up, wrapped her in his cloak and sat down next to me.

“Good morning, Father. I am going to look for a honey tree with some of the other children today. We talked about it yesterday, and we are going as soon as we eat.”

Lovern looked at me with concern.

“The older children have this planned and asked the younger ones to go,” I said. “Logan and Eanruig are going.”

“Ah, little bird,
m’eudail.
Is there a honey tree nearby?”

“If not, I will call the bees and we will make one. We want honey for our mid-day meal.”

“You are in woods that you are not familiar with. Do not stray from the others when you go.” Lovern tousled her hair and hugged her. She jumped from his lap and sat down to finish her drawing.

Lovern did not turn from her but stayed watching her movements.

“I will not let anything come to harm her.” He turned to me. “Or you.”

The snake in my belly hissed.

The children left in an adventurous noise, and then word that the druids and chieftains would meet together today was passed from lips to ears.

We stood around the fire to sing praises to Morrigna. All hands were raised in praise of her when a thunder of hooves and chariot wheels disturbed the start of our day.

I turned just as the assembly of riders came to a stop at the outer edge of the crowd.

Three warriors slid off their ponies and moved with practiced fluidity into position. Each bore a spear, a shield, a bow, and arrows. They wore capes of brown wool and loin wraps to protect themselves on the ponies. Their arms and legs were blue. This was a custom of the men who lived far north. The woad, taken there by traders, was used for body color more than for dyeing cloth. Two stood to either side of the ponies that pulled the chariot and one on the ground to the side of the man who stood in the chariot. Their eyes measured the crowd, watching, their bodies tense and ready to protect the man they were guarding.

The man in the chariot reviewed our gathering with sharp, dark eyes. His naked, fully dyed blue body revealed a short but very well muscled warrior. His long nose hung over a mouth that was set in a grim line. He wore his golden hair swept back and stiffened with lime, his yellow beard trimmed. His only protection from the weather was a cloak of deep green. On its collar was a row of feathers from a sea eagle, a bird that watches all, bearing talons of surprising strength to hunt and kill for its family.

In the chariot next to him stood a woman. She wore a sun-whitened wool dress. Her cloak was the color of undyed wool. She wore strands of yellowed boars’ teeth around her neck. Her rust hair, braided in many rows, hung to her waist. A sea eagle feather was woven into it and hung over her left ear.

The man lifted his arms and looked as if he were ready to fly over us. He did not shout but spoke in a tone that caused us to lean forward. We concentrated to hear.

“I am Calgacus. I am
ceann-cinnidh
of many clans in the north. We pray to Scotia, the fierce mother goddess of our land. We have come together to prepare for the coming war. We know the Romans are coming to us. We have won and lost many battles with them before and have slowed their progress into our realm. Hope was never abandoned, as we are many and hidden in the most secret and sacred places. Because of these places, we have been shielded as the most distant dwellers upon this ground. Our remoteness and obscurity have hidden our name from their lips. We are the last of the free. The Romans, in the name of peace, will rob, slaughter, plunder, and enslave those left alive. It is so in the lands they now live. They have wiped our kind from existence there and we alone are left to carry our bloodlines to the future. There is nothing beyond us but waves and rocks, yet they still come.

“Nature teaches us that every man’s children and family are his dearest objects. We have seen these torn apart by death and slavery. Some are left to farm, to feed the slaves that were once members of their families. Can you raise grain to feed your daughters who are raped by the Romans daily?”

A loud “No!” rose from the throats around me. Lovern wrapped his arm protectively around my shoulders. Heat radiated from his body. His eyes did not stray from the speaker, and a low groan escaped from him at the mention of rape. The face of the man who took me flashed like lightning across my mind. He was a Roman slave. He was once a proud warrior, but they turned him into an animal. This could not happen to us. I grew resolved not to allow it.

“There is one Roman who comes our way with warriors,” Calgacus continued. “Agricola. He is the chieftain we must kill. It is his army we must defeat. His men are ignorant. They do not know our sky, our sea, our forests. They have no wives or children to kindle their courage, or parents to goad them to battle. They are lost in our land; the gods have delivered them to us.

“Behind him lie unmanned forts guarded by the old, our mines of ancient times, and many slaves who will welcome a release to freedom.

“They cross the wall and are coming. What say you, chieftains? Others that I have spoken to have agreed. If you say yes, then you will train your warriors and wait for my call.”

All the chieftains in attendance gathered into a knot of men. After a conversation the length of three breaths, Haye and Kenric stepped forward.

“We agree,” said Haye. “We will train and await your call.”

Instantly the vision I had in Haye’s stable was brought to mind and the snake in my belly bit me. I was poisoned. I knew of Haye’s death. Fear was fastened deep inside me now.

The woman next to Calgacus stepped down from the chariot. Her path was straight and the crowd split to allow her progress. She came to Lovern, laid her hand on his forehead, and said, “This man is one who will work well for us. He can speak the tongue of those who live on the wall. He will bring us what we seek. The goddess Scotia picks him for herself.”

The woman’s beautiful face melted away and became the face of a hag. Her already long nose became sharper. Her sky blue eyes turned to iron. Her well formed mouth hung open to reveal black, jagged teeth. I imagined her breath to smell like the inside of an unclean stable. Her hair writhed about her head. I shook my head at the sight but the hag’s face remained. She slowly looked down to the ground and when she looked back up her face had become beautiful again.

Lovern stepped to her as if drawn by a cord. His arm fell from my shoulders and, in my spirit, I knew our relationship would never be the same again. She had stolen part of his heart.

“Firtha,” said Calgacus, “is my druidess. She tells me she has dreamed of you. She said you could go where the Romans live and bring back information. Her visions tell me that we must have this information. We must know how many they are and when they come.”