merlins godson 1 & 2

by H. Warner Munn

  The summer came and went, and Myrdhinn, I knew, was fretting to be off on his will-o‘-the-wisp hunt for the Land of the Dead.

  Days grew colder; a tang came into the ah-. Everything was peaceful and happy. Nothing happened to disturb us. There had been no effort to capture any of the lost forts we held, nor had any expeditions been sent out to obtain copper or to punish Chichameca.

  Then, one day, Myrdhinn’s youthful heart got the better of him and he rebelled openly against the monot-v ony of life.

  He was going in search of the Land of the Dead! He would solve the eternal mystery of Death! He would call for volunteers among the men. Those who had not taken native wives would surely come. As for him, he was going now! And he did.

  Out of thirty-seven Romans (thirteen had been killed during the various assaults upon the mines, the forts, and the City of the Snake), twenty-one marched with Myrdhinn in search for new adventure. The number would have been even had I not made it odd. The rest had married among the Hodenosaunee, and were valuable where they were, to further the work of the League.

  You can follow our route on the map, and you must not think that because I dwell not on the journey itself, that it was a little thing. We covered enormous distances that whiter. We even went beyond the grasp of whiter itself and found green grass and flowers when the season called for snow, but that is in advance of the tale. First, to march southwest, we were forced to take coracles and paddle north! We crossed a broad arm of the Inland Sea.

  We climbed mountains, we forded rivers, we hunted and fished. We left mountains far behind us and came to broad moorlands, veritable countries in themselves, peopled only by tremendous herds of wild, hump-backed cattle, which might take a day or more to pass a single point. The sound of their trampling hooves makes the air quiver and the ground tremble. Before them is grass, growing often taller than a man; behind them nothing but hard-beaten earth is left. Everything green and soft has been stamped into the ground!

  Their flesh is good.

  These vast moorlands, greater in extent than Britain, we christened the Sea of Grass and journeyed on, led by Myrdhinn’s little iron fish, floated occasionally in a cup of water.

  Now and then we met people, dirtier, less courageous, more dispirited than our sturdy allies we had left Small wonder, for these lands were the original highway of the Mias when they came north from the Hot Lands, and during their long wanderings the Mias had nearly depopulated the whole grass country. Only scattered individuals had been overlooked who had since coalesced into families and groups, and were trying the hard business of becoming tribes and nations again. The ambition seemed hopeless, for they told us the moorlands were often raided.

  But to the southwest (Myrdhinn started) was a nation which had never been defeated, they told us. Attacked in their lake country of Aztlan, beyond us to the north, by a vastly superior force of Mias, they had refused to become Tlapallicos, had beaten off their attackers and quitted their beloved country to go south.

  What had become of them? No one knew, but raiding parties of Tlapallan had gone after them and had returned fewer in numbers and seeming discouraged. Some parties had never returned.

  Could we go westward? Certainly not! There lay mountains, high, unclimbable, where no man might go and breathe. Beyond them the sun went to sleep each night, there he would one day go to die.

  And there, if there is a Land of the Dead, it must surely lie, for we have searched everywhere else that we can and have not found it.

  We went within, sight of the mountain foothills and turned south, thinking that we might come to an end of the immense range and go around it. Possibly there is such a route, where one may stand upon Earth’s Brink and look over the edge, but we were turned aside.

  We came to a land of sand, heat, no rain, few springs, filled with thorny, leafless trees, bulbous and strange. We saw reptiles, by one of which a comrade was bitten and died in great pain. We fought out of it, almost dead for want of water, decided we could not cross it and turned eastward to go around it, afterward returning south.

  Then we arrived in a forbidding land of rocks and great gullies, eaten deeper than one can see into the bowels of the earth by rivers which flow so far below the observer that although he can see the glint of sunlight upon a wave if the time of day be right, he can hear nothing of the tumult which rages below.

  A strange land, this land of Alata. In it are many marvels.

  Yet even here in the scrap heap of all the world, the black threat of Tlapallan lay like a curse over the doughty folk who had the hardihood to carve out homes in the very rocks.

  For some time we had been following signs that told us of a large company of men ahead, and had thrown out scouts to protect us from a surprise.

  Now, one in advance hurried back with the word that far ahead he had heard sounds of strife; so with bows strung and ready we pushed cautiously on, following along the bottom of a deep, dry gully.

  Before we expected to discover anything, we heard war-cries and around a bend in the gorge saw a fierce conflict at some distance.

  We beheld, carefully concealed as we were, an encampment of Tlapallicos at the dead end of the way, and high above was an odd fortress-home—a great house set in a deep recess of the almost perpendicular cliff. Smoke was curling from its jagged rooftop from many kitchens within its more than two hundred rooms.

  Its terraced parapets were dark with people, shouting and brandishing spears.

  Above them, an outthrust of the upper tableland overhung like a broad lip of stone, shielding them from any boulders, though the Tlapallicos had made this protection a menace, for now it held back vast volumes of choking smoke, from fires of green wood and wet leaves below, which the wind blew directly into the hollow.

  Through this choking cloud, massive stones were plunging down from battlements and towers and the Tlapallicos climbing the cliff were having trouble. The besieged had drawn up the ladders connecting sections of the path, leaving scarcely a handhold between.

  Indeed, some of these intervening segments had been previously polished to a glossy smoothness by those who constantly stayed at home—the cripples, oldsters, children and women.

  Furthermore, the warriors stoutly contested the way, hurling spears and doubleheaded darts, while their women poured down boiling water, sand, ashes and hot embers to torment their enemy.

  Yet, far to one side, untouched and hidden by smoke from those above, a line of Tlapallicos was creeping up from cranny to cranny, connecting various shelves and footholds with ladders, the whole string of them glittering, with their accouterments of mica and burnished copper, until it seemed that the symbolical Snake of Tlapallan had come alive and was slithering up the cliff wall to engorge those hapless dwellers. And we could see that if matters continued as they were, fight as sturdily as they might, the end could be only slavery and death for the cliff folk.

  Secure for the moment in our concealment, we held conclave and decided to interrupt, for as Myrdhinn stated, “We could not live by ourselves forever, but must find friends or make them, in this inhospitable land, and whom better could we trust than implacable enemies of our own foes?”

  Then, we all agreeing, I cried, “Let us prove, first, that we are friendly!”

  And we stood up among the encircling boulders, in which we had lain like chicks in a nest, and our long bows twanged.

  As though this had been a signal, the wind changed and drove the smoke swirling down upon the attackers, and above, on the highest ladder, we could see the antlered men toppling, falling, impaled by arrows, striking the ladders below, sweeping their comrades to death.

  A great cry of amazement burst from the defenders and they saw our armor glitter, and beheld for the first time the swift execution of arrow play. But we had no time for them. Without hesitation the Tlapallicos in the encampment wheeled about and rushed upon us.

  We gave them three flights into the thick of the ranks, but with no dismay they leapt the bodies of their dead and c
ame on. Further shooting was impossible. We threw our heavy lances, and hurling their hatchets in return, they drew long knives and we closed.

  Luckily for us that we were armored men! Fortunate we, to have learned our work in a stern school.

  Back to back, we twenty met seven score, even Myrdhinn laying about him manfully. Then: only shields were the soft copper breastplates and the many copper bracelets upon their arms from shoulder to wrist, fit protection perhaps against atlatl dart and stone knife, but our good edges cut through them like cheese.

  An officer hurled himself upon me. I slashed through ‘

  his bead insignia, when my shortsword struck between neck and shoulder. He fell. Others came, and others.

  My fingers were slippery with blood. I struck till my arm wearied. I could not see how my comrades fared.

  Faces came at me, howling. They went down. More faces, furiously contorted, behind them, came forward.

  The sword twisted in my hand. I could not tell if I was striking with the flat of it, or the edge.

  My muscles were cramped with killing, and still they came. It seemed that all Tlapallan was hurling itself upon us.

  Suddenly the faces were gone. I blinked. My helmet was gone, my forehead was wet, my head one great ache. I wiped the moisture out of my eyes. It was red. Half my right ear was shorn away.

  Then there were howling faces before me again. I raised my sword, like as a twin to those that carved out the Roman Empire, and would if the gods willed carve out another here. It Sew from my wet fingers. I heard a legionary cry, “Friends, Varro, friends!”

  My vision cleared. I saw the Tlapallicos running like deer, saw them leap, and bound, and fall, saw cliff dwellers meet them with ax and club, and hurry on. And I beheld the fighting women of the rocks finishing those that still moved, dying, but too proud to moan for mercy, glaring without fear into the eyes of those who wielded the knife; and I said in my heart, Britain could be retaken with bravery like that.

  And Myrdbinn went forward in his white robes, all dotted with red crosses, and made friends for us with the Elders of Aztlan.

  And they named him in their language Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, because of his beautiful feathered headdress, and also for his guile, giving him credit for causing the wind to change which was choking them with smoke; and we entered into then* airy castle with all the pomp and adulation which deities might receive.

  Now we had another language to learn, this time without much difficulty, for they were eager to teach that they might learn what manner of people we were. Although the words were dissimilar, the sentence structure of the Mias was much the same as their own, which was a help to us. Also, during the various impacts of Tlapallan’s culture upon them, they had learned a few words that we also knew.

  Besides, their women, who in their society had equal rights with the men, took us over and made us com-fortable in their homes, treating us like kings, and we learned more than a few words from them.

  The first I learned of the Azteca speech was the name of the very lovely and lovable little lady who eased my pain and brought me food as I recovered quickly from my head wounds in that dry, clean air.

  Gold Flower of Day, her parents had christened her, or as we might say Aurora, not half so musically right for this delightful girl.

  In a short time I was up and about, and by then among us all we had learned considerable, which we had shared as we’d learned it.

  We were in the city of Aztlan. Less than five miles away was another city, Azatlan. But between them was a hideous country, all up and down over naked rock and deep gullies, so that one city was very little help to the other in case of trouble.

  “We must change all that,” I said one night to my companions.

  “Why?” asked Myrdhinn. “We are not planning to stop here long, are we? Shall we not push on to the land of our search?”

  I turned to the rest.

  “What shall we do, comrades? Waste our lives in a fruitless hunt for a mythical land, or make a nation here?”

  “Remain!” they chorused.

  “Myrdhinn,” I said, “with magic and guile you made a nation in the north. The destruction of Tlapallan is my one aim in life. Let the Gods listen! I solemnly vow never to rest until I have built a nation in this southern wilderness, that working in unison with your own nation will crack Tlapallan like a nut between hammer and stone. And here is all the magic I shall use!”

  I leapt to my feet, swept out my sword and kissed the blade.

  “I swear it on the cross of the sword. Who takes that vow?”

  “I!”

  “I!”

  “And I!” They all gathered around.

  Myrdhinn smiled—half humorously, half ruefully.

  “And I, I presume, must bow to the will of the majority? After all, I suppose it is the better way.”

  So the search for the Land of the Dead ended with our advent among the cliff dwellers, though, as Myrdhinn learned, they too had legends concerning a mystical country, Mictlampa, “where the sun sleeps,” from whence (a land of seven dark caves) they believe they originally came “up from below” to air and sunlight and happier life, but to which, after death, the souls of good and bad alike must return.

  Almost every tribe and clan, at least in this section of Alata, has its own distinct legend, but all agree in the important belief that they came “up from below.” And we too have come to believe that somewhere, possibly in this vicinity, lies an entrance to some inner world far beneath our feet. Perhaps the ancients were right in locating Hades at the core of earth.

  But we have not hunted, nor have we any intentions of doing so.

  Instead, we built a new Rome, in little, among the rocks, building it in spirit and ambition instead of marble and gold. All that can come later—was not the real Rome once a huddle of huts?

  After my illness, first looking about me, this is what I saw:

  A collection of some thousands of barbarians with only the beginnings of a culture and practically no religion. They revered the spirits of slain animals and saw in themselves a kinship to the beasts! Also, their implements of agriculture were crude and few, and their very weapons almost worthless in comparison with ours.

  Tlapallan had stunted their growth, stultified their culture, hindered their natural abilities and kept them high in the’rocks lest they should utterly perish—but like an eaglet in its eyrie, whose flashing eye proclaims its proud heritage, the bold, free manner of these Azteca spoke of dauntless courage that laughed at fate and any that might attempt oppression.

  Tlapallan’s hatred for free communities had bred in this small people a determination to fight until death for their freedom. They needed only the right leaders— and we had come!

  Looking on them in my illness, I dreamed and planned, and when I had mastered their tongue and had obtained the consent of the Elders I began to go among the young men of both the cities, selecting, marshaling, drilling—training them with the bow and shortsword.

  Before us, in Alata, the sword had been an unheard-of thing, its place being taken by long knives, short javelins or the massive club; though the throwing-hatchet was no weapon to be despised.

  But now came a new and ghastly weapon, a sword in name, but what a sword! Of wood it was, short, heavy, saw-edged on both sides with sharp jagged fragments of volcanic glass, a merciless weapon. I chuckled to myself when I considered the feelings of a foe which for the first time saw a sword-using people, fired with ambition and the lust for empire, rushing to close in upon the field of battle.

  To each of my companions I gave the command of a company and one proud day saw march in review before the gathered Azteca wives, families and Elders, ten centuries of martial youth, fully equipped.

  The next day wives and sweethearts, dry-eyed and brave, bade farewell to their men as they marched out into the wastelands upon the long road to conquest, assimilation of the conquered and eventual empire. The eaglet chick had broken from its shell! Simultane
ously with the people in general, from priests ordained by myself (who know nothing of priestcraft), was being preached a new religion, worthy of a fighting people, the children of Destiny.

  I gave them Ceres, Lucina, Vulcan, Flora, Venus, Mars—all the gods of old fighting Rome that I could remember, and said no more about Rome’s later deca-dent faith than I could help. Myrdhinn preached them love, charity, altar offerings of fruits and flowers—all the weak things that made Rome lose Britain.

  He introduced the Mass, to the best of his ability, using a paste of meal and milk as his best substitute for the Host, but for such folk as these were becoming such thoughts seemed too mild, and at the offerings of jubilation upon our safe return with captives, converts and booty, I saw blood mixed with the meal instead of milk, though Myrdhinn looked elsewhere and pretended not to see.

  The folk took my remembrances of early faiths as new and divine revelation. They found their own names for the deities I had given them, and soon each had his or her own following, tended by priests who apparently rose from the ground, so soon they came into being.

  Since my little legion had learned the new technique of making war, the world seemed too small for it and any enemies, no matter how far away these enemies might be. They had won a battle on unfamiliar ground and they thought themselves invincible. Constantly they begged me to lead them against new foes, and I confess I was very willing. Fighting was my profession, my very Me.

  We marched again. Again we returned in triumph from foray after foray, incorporating into our growing empire communities which had dwelt apart for hundreds of years scarcely knowing one another’s names. As old enmities died, the little communities lost those names and became brotherly under compulsion under Aztec banners and governors.

  The priests were busy from sunrise till late at night, proselyting, converting, ordaining missionaries for far villages, describing their new deities from colorful, fantastic and fertile imaginations. My poor powers of picturing heavenly attributes were far outstripped.