The Fox (38 page)

“I worried for you. It was hard to concentrate on my life when I was wondering if you still lived. I will be better now.” I hoped that was true, for even now, with his hands, fingers and mouth at my breasts, and my breath quickening in anticipation of the coming pleasure, I could feel the serpent just under my skin. I arched to his fingers and thrusts, and prayed he would chase it away from me, if only for one night.

We left early the next morning. On the way out of our valley, we stopped to ask Rosston to join us. Lovern knew the druids would support and vouch for his truthfulness if the king questioned his story. Those who knew Lovern knew he was an honorable druid and man. Rosston gathered his things quickly and we went on to Rhona’s, moving as fast as possible. The chieftains allowed their druids to take ponies. We did not have the luxury of time.

Rhona was waiting for us. “I have sent word to Moroug and Coira. They will join us on the way. We would have to double back if we went to their clan, and my grandson rides like the wind when no one impedes him. He carries my message and my ring. Their chieftain will let them come. My gut tells me we must make good time with this missive, Lovern.”

“Have you seen anything in your dreams about this event?” Lovern asked. Rosston leaned in to hear her answers.

“I have seen a battle,” Rhona said. “I do not know when or where but it is coming. We must hurry to the king with your knowledge.”

We traveled quickly for the next three days. Nathraichean joined us.

“My mind has been unsettled for days. I could not wait at home without knowing so I decided to come without bidding to your village. It is fortunate we meet on the road.” He turned to Rhona, his gray hair floating in the breeze. “The air itself carries tension,” he said, his ever-moving arms swinging with his words. His eyes took us in and measured our response. We nodded in agreement.

We stopped only to rest the horses and hunt rabbits for our evening meals and spent most of the ride in silence. Conversation about the scenes of the countryside and treatments for unfertile animals seemed out of place to me. I concentrated on imagining what the king would do when he heard Lovern’s news.

When words were exchanged, it was in a quest to find the best way to draw the gods and Morrigna’s attention to us.

“We must have their ears turned to us now. The gods and goddess must not be allowed to carry on as usual,” Lovern said. “We must decide the best way to get their attention this Beltane.”

Rosston answered. “Maybe Firtha has a new prayer that will capture the gods’ attention.”

I closed my eyes at the mention of her name. I was not looking forward to seeing her. “We may have to cut all our sacred oaks to raise a fire that will reach the heavens,” I said. I was so innocent of the gods needs.

We traveled to the end of the Great Glen and turned east, toward the rising sun. One more day in travel and we came to the valley of King Calgacus. Gray boulders were mounded to form a wall, topped with a fence of logs. We could not see over it, even sitting on our ponies. Through the partially open gate, I saw many lodges. Naked men, skin dyed blue, guarded the wall, ready to close the gate if needed.

Lovern rode up to the gate but was stopped by the tip of a sword held by one of the heavily muscled guards. “I am the druid Lovern,” he said. “I am ordered by the king to come. I have a message for him.”

“Wait,” we were told.

One of the guards jumped off the wall and out of our sight. I listened in curiosity to the noises behind the gate. I heard people laughing and talking, all busy with the chores that filled our daily lives. I felt less like a stranger here, for they lived like us.

Dogs chased chickens and men laughed. Mothers called to children. Smoke rose over the wall, home fires lighted to chase the damp, chilled air. Noise and the odors of life floated around us. As word of our arrival spread, eyes peeked around the gate. I matched them to the faces of curious children. I inhaled deeply as I missed Crisi.

I was tired and sore from sitting on my pony for so many hours. I wanted to dismount. Sitting on the back of this beast was torture, as thin as I was. Although I wore several layers of clothing and my heavy cloak, I was cold and needed to pee. If the guard did not come soon, I would go into the surrounding woods and relieve myself.

Just as I stretched and leaned over to tell Lovern and Rhona that I would be absent for a moment, a chariot came crashing around the far corner of the fence. In it stood a wild man, long blond hair flying. His mouth opened to show white teeth centered in a face stained blue. He screamed the battle cry and waved his sword over his head while his driver and one other man stood behind him. Following him were nine mounted warriors, all armed and naked, bodies dyed blue. They rode close to each other in sacred groups of three.

My pony started but held. He wanted to join the race but obeyed my commands. My heart thudded like a festival drum at the sight of the king and his guard coming toward us at full speed. If his goal were to impress us, he succeeded with me.

They rode past, and just before they turned and slipped from our sight, they pulled up at the opposite corner.

After much cheering and jostling among themselves, one of the mounted men slid down and held out his reins. King Calgacus climbed out of the chariot and onto the pony’s back. The rider he replaced stepped into the chariot. The king and two of the mounted guards came to us in a fast trot while the rest of the cadre and his chariot turned the corner towards the back of the village. As they came closer, I saw that the two guards behind him were women. They were so well conditioned – tall, slim-waisted, with muscled legs and shoulders – that their stained blue bodies blended in with the men on the charge. Their long blonde hair bounced on their backs in heavy braids. They carried the same shields, long swords and spears the men carried. They rode proud and I knew they would protect the King with their lives. I had seen female warriors, but none so strong and none stained fully blue. This display of the king’s guard and battle practice gave me hope that the king would be ready to accept Lovern’s news and go to war with the Romans.

The men on the fence who had joined in on the battle cry grew quiet as the king rode closer. I saw their respect in the way they stood tall before him. A lathered pony, chest straining with his breathing, was now upon us, King Calgacus on its back. His face was a study of concentration. His body glistened with the sweat of one who had worked hard. I admired him as he came closer. He had no extra flesh. Arms, abdomen and legs well muscled, and the look of health emanated from him. He peered into our group until he saw Lovern, and then with a nod of his head he turned and looked up to the top of the wall near the gate. I was surprised to see his druidess, Firtha, standing there, her face just showing from under her white hood over the top of the fence. She turned to face the back of the village, and the king kicked his pony to move in through the gate. His guards motioned us to follow.

Our ponies fell into step after theirs and started into the fort. I was last in line, and just before my pony crossed the worn path of the gate, I pulled back and stopped. Though surrounded by noise from all the king’s people as well as the animals in the fort, I shivered as all sound was instantly gone from my ears. I looked through wavering air. Confused and not knowing what was about, I spun my pony around, ready to run out of the fort. A shaft of clear light shined on a scene in front of me.

In the front line of trees, across the road leading into the fort, I saw them. The oak was heavy with ravens. Its branches bobbed with their weight, and its new leaves fluttered with the stretching and unfolding of their many wings. They sat, quiet, and watched me with night-black eyes, almost invisible in their blue-black bodies. The sun glistened on preened feathers.

Why had my animal host shown itself to me in such a way? I watched for a moment longer, their eyes unblinking, when I saw movement on the ground. The pair stepped from behind the raven-filled tree. She was young and timid. Her eyes darted about, looking for danger, body tensed and ready to run at an instant. She carried more blond-colored hair than copper, accented with snow-white tips. Small, when she crouched in the grass under the oak, it hid all but her face and twitching ears.

He was royal. As large as a hunting dog, the male fox stopped, his body one step in front of his mate. He turned and nipped her gently on her neck; she nuzzled his fur. As he sat, he laid his white-tipped, flame-colored tail across her back, claiming her as his. His chest was not as white as hers, showing the yellowing of age and life in the forest. Sunlight glinted off the deep copper color of his back. He looked up at the tree filled with ravens and then back down at me.

I knew the king’s foxes were large and not often seen. They were wary of men. I sat quietly, filling my eyes. Then, the male stood and barked, and the female disappeared behind the tree. He looked up into the tree, at one very large raven that seemed to be the leader, yipped, and then the sky grew dark over me as they rose together and flew over the rooftops of the fort. My eyes followed until they were out of sight. I turned back, and the fox faced me. He walked out of the long grass to the road and dipped his body into a long stretch, as if bowing to me. He took no notice of the people or noise around me and then calmly turned to lope into the woods, following his mate.

I sat in a prayer of gratitude while sound became normal around me again. It seemed no one else had seen what I had seen. Everyone carried on with what they were doing before. I shook my head in wonder. It was a powerful sign from the gods.

Following the direction my companions, I started my pony after them, my eyes still filled with the splendor of the sight. I passed a long row of lodges, all built in the round form as ours. Coming to the end of the row, my pony took one step around the corner and neighed to a group of ponies standing in front of a dwelling. Lovern’s pony was among them.

A child reached up and took my reins as I slid down and walked into the lodge. Its main room contained three fire pits, all in use. Over one, tended by a small boy turning the spit, cooked the full body of a boar. The boy had to jump back often. The flames that shot up when the fat from the animal dripped into the fire came close to burning him. The other two fires had large pots stirred by young women. An older woman was making her way back and forth from one fire to the other, adding vegetables and roots to the pots and pinching the crisping skin of the boar. “Don’t let this burn, boy, or you will be sleeping outside with the pigs tonight. Girl! Bring more herbs here, we need more flavor in this pot,” she yelled across the room. Five large tables circled the room. All were in use, some where women chopped onions and herbs for the stews in the pots, and others where there were women who slid loaves of fresh, dark rye bread off baking planks. One table was piled high with mugs for mead.
Many are coming to this evening feast,
I thought. Many came every evening, as this looked like a well-practiced dance by all here.

Lovern and the others were standing in front of a large chair in the center of the lodge. In it sat the king, dressed in a finely woven, blue shirt and trousers. His clothing seemed to blend in with the woad blue of his dyed skin. A bronze pin fashioned into a large cluster of mistletoe closed his cape. The pin’s painted golden-green leaves and white berries caught my eye.
Finlay would have loved this,
I thought. He would have asked the king if he could hold it to better look at its fineness.

The king spoke. “So, Druid, it is as I expected. The Romans are coming to us. Were you able to find out how long before we will see them trampling our fields?”

The noise around the room stopped, as if by an order from the king, all eyes focused on Lovern.

“They are building forts as they come,” Lovern answered. “I was told their general, Agricola, wants to build a line that will not be crossed before he comes further. They may not come this far this year, but the Romans are coming.”

“Hmmm. The news is bad, as I feared. We will have to stop him. He is foolish to think he will have an easy time taking our land. The only good news to come from you is that we have time to prepare. We have time to raise the army and move them to the spot I will fight,” said Calgacus. “I have ridden over and mapped this country, and know the best mountain pass to take a stand. I have planned a long time for this. My druidess told me we would go to war. She has seen it often in her dreams. She has prayed for a way to capture the ears of the gods. We will be victorious over the Romans and will win and keep our lands free from all invaders.”

At this, he raised his hand, heavy with rings on every finger, and waved one of his guards to him. “Call in Tearlach. I must talk to him. He will lead the training of all the warriors promised to us by the clans.”

A tumult grew around us. All the warriors at the tables were standing on the benches or on the tables, yelling battle cries. Those coming in late were told the news and joined in the scene. It seemed some were looking at our little group with distaste. We were the harbingers of bad news and I began to wonder how safe we would be if they decided to come at us.

“I am here as commanded.” The man at the door was two-hands taller than the king. His dirt-streaked face wore lines of the years of experience, and heavily-browed eyes took in the room at a sweep. He carried a spear, and from his belt hung a short and a long sword. The battle cries turned into a cadence of calling a name: “Tearlach, Tearlach, Tearlach!”

Tearlach raised his spear, and the hall filled with the roar of men ready to fight to their death for him.

“Warriors,” he said. His voice was deep, but he deliberately did not raise it above the din. He waited. As men noticed him, they grew quiet. He continued. “We do not fear the Romans. We will go to war and win. We are stronger and fight for our land.
Our
land. It is
our
land, not theirs. They will regret bringing the battle to us for the rest of their short lives.” He began pounding the butt of his spear on the ground and others followed by banging their spears or swords against tabletops. The walls around us began to shake.