The Moon Worshippers (28 page)

Isaac nodded and began to chant in Hebrew and gently rock backwards and forwards. The two Basques sat in silence and watched. After about an hour, Patxi whispered to Inaki.

“He’s not going to be able to do it, for all his talk. Better not waste any more time. You go and I’ll keep watch over him, otherwise the night will have been wasted.”

Inaki nodded and closed his eyes. Soon the Great Octopus God had entered his head and together they flew over the land. All was well and their boundaries were safe. As he returned, he saw that Patxi appeared to be asleep. Around Isaac there was a glow and a light was covering his whole body. Storm had moved to his side and around the dog’s neck was the jewelled collar. The fire reflected and refracted in the jewels. The whole hut was suddenly engulfed in floating coloured lights. Inaki had never seen anything so beautiful.

Isaac’s hand reached out and took hold of the collar. As he did so, the spirit of Storm leapt into the air and an image of light that resembled Isaac went forth into the night with Storm, followed by a tail of coloured lights. As the image disappeared into the night, Isaac’s earthly body sank forward. Sometime later Inaki came round. Before him sat Storm. The first thing that he noticed was that the collar had disappeared. Isaac sat as if asleep. In front of him was the scroll which was now in ashes. A moment later Patxi came round. The two men stared at the ashes. Patxi was the first to speak.

“I believe that he was a truly holy man and that he has joined his maker.”

“I hope you are right and that we have not killed him and sent him to a place were his spirit will wander forever helplessly.”

“No, Inaki. Rest assured. He has gone to a better place. It may not be one that we believe in or understand, but it was of his choosing. The difference is he had to die to meet his God and we don’t. Our Gods live with us and in us.”

The dawn was beginning to break outside and the sky was filling with light. It was going to be a fine summer’s day, albeit a sad one.

*

It was the winter of 795 AD and many years after the incident with Isaac. The snows lay deep and even over mountain and valley. It was bitterly cold and Inaki sat by the great log fire in his house wrapped in a great sheepskin. Over the fire, in a great iron pot, simmered a mutton stew. The delicious smell filled the room. Olatz was in the next room with Inaki’s mother. They were changing his youngest son. When they had finished, Olatz wrapped the boy in a great woollen blanket. Storm lay between Inaki and the fire. Inaki had tucked his feet under the great animal and was fast asleep. The dog slowly raised his head and looked at his master. Something was troubling his master’s sleep. Inaki had began to sweat and not from the heat of the fire. The dog sat up and watched intently as Inaki gave an involuntary shiver. Storm growled and this brought Olatz into the room. She looked at her husband and rested a hand on his brow.

“It’s only a bad dream,” she said to Storm soothingly. “Don’t worry so.”

Storm stood with difficulty and gave Inaki an enormous lick right across his face, which woke him with a start.

“Where am I?”

“Supposedly looking after the stew. It could burn for all you care,” said Olatz mockingly.

Inaki thought for a moment and composed himself. He looked at Storm and his grey muzzle. He was not long for this life. He was very old now and he found it difficult to leave the fire side and it hurt him to move. He ate little and he was skin and bone. It made Inaki sad to see the great old dog like this and he had made a silent vow that he would not let Storm suffer a long, slow, painful death. He could not bring himself to choose the moment when he would help Storm into the other world and he wished that he did not have to make the choice.

That night, Inaki had a troubled sleep and he awoke with a start in the early morning, just before dawn. It was still dark and very cold. He left his bed, wrapped in a sheepskin and went to put some wood on the smouldering fire. Storm was still lying before it. He bent down and touched the great head and knew immediately. Storm was dead. Two emotions ran through his body: one an overwhelming sadness at the departing of a great friend; the other relief that he had played no part in his going. Even in death Storm had been good to him to go this way. It was almost as if it had been the last act of a great friend. He sat and wept and so he remained with the great head in his arms until some time later, Olatz placed a gentle hand around his shoulders and said:

“He will always be in our thoughts and so he is immortal. You knew it was coming and that does not lessen the blow, but he was in pain and he will meet you in the spirit world. He has gone out of our temporal lives, but not our spiritual world or our thoughts. Feel happy for him. He cannot feel the pain now.”

Inaki could not speak.

*

Five years had passed since Storm had died and it was a glorious summer. The land was enjoying a rare period of peace and tranquillity when Aize entered their lives unexpectedly. One sunny day as Inaki returned from a hunt he found Anton, the shepherd, waiting for him.

“I have left something for you and a message from Aguirre.”

“Oh, it has been such a long time since I’ve heard from Aguirre. Is he well? Has something happened?

“No. He says to take good care of her and not to neglect her training for she is something special.”

With these words Anton, a man of few words, turned and left. Inaki stood there perplexed.

“Olatz,” he cried. “You will not believe what Anton has just said to me! Olatz!”

“Come into the house,” he heard her say.

He passed through the doorway and when his eyes adjusted to the gloominess of the interior he saw Olatz sitting on the floor. In her lap was a bundle of black fur.

“She is called Aize, and she is yours; a gift from Aguirre. He says she is special and you must take great care of her.” She lifted the pup and handed her to Inaki. Inaki took her and lifted her into the air. Aize was the Basque name for wind. He wondered if she would be as swift as the wind or if she was indeed special. Time would tell, but she was beautiful, of that there was no doubt.

Aguirre’s judgement was never wrong when it came to animals and so because of the great respect he had for the man, Inaki took great care over Aize’s training. He started slowly with simple commands, rewarding her with food when the pup got them right. He soon became aware that this dog was special. She learned so quickly, far more quickly than could be reasonably expected. At times the dog even anticipated the command. It proved that Aguirre was right. She was very special and very clever.

One day he turned to Olatz as they were eating and said, “We will never have another dog like Aize. You get a dog like this once in a life time, if you are lucky. Mark my words.”

Much to his surprise Olatz reacted angrily. “How can you say such a thing after Storm? There will never be anything finer than him!”

“He was a very fine wolf-dog I grant you and I am not taking anything away from him, but this bitch is far more intelligent. The way she learns is unbelievable. She is just so clever, so easy to train. Storm could never do what she does at her age.”

“You forget too easily. As far as I’m concerned, there will be no dog like Storm.”

Inaki said nothing. He knew that Aize would prove him right.

Later that year Aguirre arrived unannounced. He was an old man now and it would be his last visit.

“I’ve come to see how you and the bitch are getting on,” he said without ceremony.

“Why did you not bring her yourself?” asked Inaki.

“You might have rejected her and anyway I was busy. She’s one of Roka’s pups. So you have a lot of Storm in her. I thought it would please you to have a bit of Storm around the place. Clever isn’t she?”

“Very, like the Devil who bred her,” said Inaki. Both men laughed as Inaki led the way to the house. Inside they ate and exchanged news. After a stay of four days Aguirre left, with the words: “Guests are like fish. If they stay too long they begin to smell.”

*

It was the winter of 800AD when they heard a shout at the door. Inaki opened it. Standing there was a Basque warrior. He recognised the man from the battle at Roncesvalles and invited him into his house. They spoke for some time and then the warrior left.

“I must go to Aquitania,” Inaki announced.

“What!” Olatz exploded. “Are you out of your head? There’s snow up to your stupid head outside. This is the harshest winter we have had in years. You will die if you go out in this.”

“No matter. I have to go,” said Inaki. “Barcelona has fallen.”

“Well, so what?”

“Olatz!” exploded Inaki, “sometimes you can be so stupid!”

Inaki composed himself with a great effort. He knew that shouting and calling his wife names got him nowhere. He drew a deep breath.

“Olatz, if the Franks have taken Barcelona it means that it will not be long before they will move north. We could lose our homes and our country.” He paused and let his words sink in.

“You’re mad. What would they want to come here for?”

He could sense her fear. He paused and then said: “For the oldest reason in the world, revenge.”

She had turned white. The word had struck home.

“Listen, Zumalacarrequi has gone down to our friends in the southern mountains to see what he can find out.”

“About what?” Olatz was clearly shaken and not thinking.

“Well, how soon we can expect an attack and from where it will come.”

“Do you think he will find anything out? Can he be successful?” asked Olatz timidly.

“Zumalacarrequi has found out something already. He is in danger. We could all be in deadly danger again. He has asked for me. I must go to him and see him.”

“How on earth do you know?”

“That was the message the warrior brought,” he said sharply.

Inaki’s mother had been stood silently in the doorway whilst the two argued, but at that moment she spoke.

“When your father was murdered and we had to flee for our lives, it was Zumalacarrequi who helped your uncle to hide us. We owe him a debt.”

Olatz knew better than to argue further. She had long accepted Inaki’s extraordinary will power. If he said Zumalacarrequi was in danger, then he was. She changed her tone.

“You can’t go now. You must prepare. Wait a few days,” she pleaded.

*

Three days later Inaki left. On his back he had a leather pack. His feet were wrapped in thick wool and tucked into knee-length boots. He wore two shirts under a sheepskin jerkin with a long woollen cloak over his shoulders. Even though his body was covered in bear’s fat, he still felt the cold on his hands and face, and he still had the Pyrenees to cross. The thought sent a cold chill through his body and made him shiver. For most of the journey he kept to the forests where the temperature was at least ten times warmer than on open ground. The game had also come into the woods for shelter from the cold and he was able to supplement his supplies with fresh meat on some days. As he climbed higher, through the pine forest, the tree-line ended and this became the most perilous part of his journey. He no longer had shelter from the driving snow and sleet. The wind seemed to penetrate every part of his body. Movement became difficult and he needed every last part of his willpower to keep moving. If he stopped he knew he was dead.

It took him five days to cross the Pyrenees in the most severe weather he had ever known. At night, at Inaki’s beckoning, Aize dug small hollows in the snow for them to sleep in side by side, out of the freezing wind. The dog warned him of the most severe weather, so that she could build a snow cave in time. Often they sheltered in a snow tomb, since he shut the entrance to their cave with packed snow to keep out the cold wind. If it had not been for the warmth that the dog provided, and the candles that gave light and some warmth, he would have frozen to death. Many times he felt grateful for that early training that Aguirre had shown him and that he had been given Aize. That training had proved indispensable on this terrible journey. As they moved further into the mountains the wind and snow turned to sleet, hitting them full in the face as they reached yet another summit. Inaki’s face was red raw by the second day.

At last he reached the French side of the Pyrenees and Aquitania. He made for the Basque village of Mauleon-Licharra, where he knew Zabala lived. Mauleon-Licharra was a village in the middle of the mountains and as he reached yet another summit he could see lights deep down in the valley below. His comrade from the Battle of Roncesvalles and captain of the Labourd Basques would be there. He would know where to find Zumalacarrequi. He reached the door of the first house in yet another snowstorm and collapsed, totally exhausted. If it had not been for Aize’s growling, barking and whining he would have died there. The noise brought Zabala to the door, battleaxe in hand. It took a little time to persuade Aize to let them carry him in, but in the end, Inaki came round beside a roaring fire. After he had recovered a little he told Zabala of his quest.

“I must find Zumalacarrequi,” he said in a tired voice. “He is in grave danger.”

“Haven’t seen him in ages. The moon has come and gone many times since I have seen him,” Zabala replied. “Besides, you are too exhausted to continue. You must rest and while you rest, I will find out where he was last seen. Then together we will search for him.”