A Hare in the Wilderness

by S E Turner

  Beyond the grasslands and the steppes, over the hills and round the mountain, a hundred marquees could be seen beside the river, and the clans gathered in their droves to take part in the Gathering. The splendour of it all took Dainn's breath away, and he really had no idea it would be on a scale that was so spectacular and unlike anything he had seen before. The brilliant colours, the excitement of the crowds, the tents and banners flapping in the wind, the items that people had brought with them, but mostly the sheer amount of people. Many came on foot, some came by boat, and several had pack horses loaded up with gifts for the host clan and produce to trade: fine weaves and materials, freshly ground herbs and spices, exquisite jewellery made from amber and jet, tailored garments made from animal skins, trinkets, utensils and culinary delights. But the most exciting part for everyone was the competitions—the competitions most of all.

  'Are you going to have a go at the boxing?' shrilled Rufus excitedly.

  'I might do,' he answered. 'I shall watch from the sidelines and size up the competition.'

  Rufus smiled proudly at him and took hold of his hand when Dainn put his finger to his lips to indicate silence. Laith stood up to introduce the games.

  'My dearest friends, guests, comrades, partners, it is with open arms that I welcome you to this year’s Gathering, hosted by The Clan of the Mountain Lion.'

  A round of applause rang out and a stream of nodding heads gesticulated to honour the hosts hospitality and the splendid array of entertainment.

  'Let us pray for all our gods to watch over us, and that our totems will be guiding us as we join together for this very special day.'

  A few moments of silent homage was paid to the afore mentioned beings. Then Laith concluded. 'This day is for the young people, a day of fun and games before their lives change forever. Many will take leadership, all will make life-changing decisions, and everyone will face competition. This gathering serves as platform to a challenging existence. So now, Clans, go and enjoy the celebrations.'

  A rapturous applause echoed round the grounds, shouting and merriment broke the sound of Laith's trailing voice and the celebrations began.

  No one really noticed Laith and the other leaders disappearing into the chieftain's hut for their regular talks. And not one person present on that day could have known that what they had to discuss would affect each and every one of them forever.

  'We come with bad news, Laith.'

  'What has happened?'

  'It's the General. He is under orders from the Emperor again.'

  'Does this man ever give up? Come fellow leaders; tell me what you know and what we should do.'

  A young clan boy with a mop of dark black hair heralded his archery competition in a loud proud booming voice. 'Come on now, don't be shy. I have made lots of white wood bows and arrows for you all to use, and here is a magnificent mahogany bow for the winner. Expertly crafted by my own hands, planed for a smooth finish, and polished with layers of beeswax for this deep red shine.' He held aloft his precious offering. 'All I ask is that you do not use the girls as a target.'

  He looked towards the forest where, under the shade of the dappled autumn colours, the young women displayed their offerings on exquisitely vibrant stalls. He knew they were positioned far enough away, though. He had shot a few arrows earlier in the day to make absolutely sure and nodded to a fellow clan member who was lining up a range of spears and rocks for his throwing competition.

  Dainn went over to the boxing ring to check out the competition. Rufus stood by him as the rules were read out.

  'Each boy is invited to take on the champion and try and knock him to the ground. Each opponent will have three minutes in the ring and then there will be a two minute break for the next competitor to prepare. If the champion isn't knocked down in that time, then he will retain his crown. If he is knocked down, then the waiting boys will be able to take on the new victor until everyone has had a round. Does everyone understand?' Nods and grimaces acknowledged his words, so he continued. 'Those of you who want to spar, then make it known to me.'

  There was a crowd of boys around the makeshift arena, all eager to watch and learn, but mainly to have a go. Last year's champion was heralded into the ring amongst uplifting cheers and a riotous applause. Torré was a strong boy and paraded around the roped off circle to the adulation of the crowd. Namir dived under the rope to shake hands with his larger opponent.

  'Good luck, Torré.'

  'Good luck to you, too, Namir.'

  Namir and Torré were warming up in their corners while Bagwa rang out the rules. 'I will be watching for a fair game. There will be no punches to the groin, no high jumping or kicking, and bare fists only. In the event of a tie, I will make the final decision. If anyone breaks the rules they will be disqualified. My decision is final. There will be no contesting my authority, is that understood?' He looked around to make sure everyone acknowledged him, and when he was satisfied, he exited the ring and gave the signal to start.

  That year wasn't Namir's year. It wasn't Dainn's year either. He went in after being hounded and pestered by Rufus, and very nearly became that year's champion. But Torré had come in with a clean sweep right at the end, and knocked him down in the last few minutes. That year, Torré retained his crown. 'Come back next year,' he said gallantly and respectfully. 'Try and take me then.'

  'I will have to train a lot more before I return,' Dainn said exiting the ring and nursing a swollen jaw.

  'You will come back next year, won't you?' Rufus was deadly serious.

  'Oh, I don't know. Maybe I will,' he was clearly tired, and a return match was the last thing on his mind.

  Rufus stopped in his tracks. 'You have to. It will look weak if you don't. You must not give in to him. You are stronger than him. Please promise me you will come back next year.'

  Dainn looked down at the youngster. 'If it will keep you quiet, I will promise.'

  Rufus sighed a happy smile and felt himself being lifted onto broad shoulders and taken to enjoy the much talked about tug of war.

  The two teams were already in position. The Marshland Tribe against the host clan, The Clan of the Mountain Lion. Each team had prepared themselves stoically and the grit and determination on these young faces brought a sense of pride to their respective clans. Eyes were focused, thoughts were powerful, muscles flexed and deep breaths were drawn in.

  They took hold of the rope. The boys at the front had their feet firmly in the ploughed-up soil. Legs were in the squatting position. Arms were out straight. They vied each other and mentally gave out strong messages of glory and defeat.

  'Follow Namir's stance,' called out someone from the back.

  'Take positions,' came the call to start.

  'Ready boys, take the strain, dig deep with those legs and push hard into the ground.'

  The rope snatched tight. The Marshland Tribe were strong. Their boys began pulling and shouting. Froth and spit burst from bellowing mouths. Sweat was already pouring down straining faces. Snot and phlegm mixed in quantities as veins popped out of developing muscles charged with energy.

  'Stay focused,' a voice called out. 'Let them tire first, keep a grip, dig deep with your legs. They are pulling with their arms and will tire quickly.'

  'Hold on, boys, dig deep. Keep pushing into the ground.'

  The Mountain Lion stood firm in the soil while the Marshlanders used up their energy with a pulling action. They seemed to be in a stalemate for ages with the red centre of the rope hovering over the line. Aching arms were burning just keeping it taught. Such strenuous activity on this scale was hard. There was clearly a distinct variation in muscle size between the groups.

  The Clan of the Mountain Lion began to gradually feel the tension of the rope edging their way as the Marshlanders grew weary. Their bare, bloodied hands were losing the grip and another loud voice heralded a response to the thrown gauntlet.

  'Boys pull now...'

  They pulled hard.

  'Boys dig deep tak
e small steps back...'

  They took small steps back in unison.

  'Stay focused! Do not look up from the rope...'

  They stayed focused

  'And heave...'

  More steps back. The tension was coming their way—the Mountain Lion had control.

  'Stay focused boys, stay focused. Dig those legs in firm, lean back, and… heave.'

  Still the Mountain Lion pulled and heaved with all the strength they had, having gained the advantage over the fatigued team. Low-sitting thighs skimmed the soil with the exertion. Defined triangular calf muscles took the weight.

  'Now big steps. Move with the rope, keep momentum… and pull… and pull.'

  They responded to the roars with their own deep guttural growls. Rivers of sweat poured down straining bodies, focused eyes squinted, and teeth clenched hard. Young hands were shredded and raw. With a final surge of exertion, the Clan of the Mountain Lion strode back with giant strides and pulled the failing Marshlanders off their feet. They tumbled on top of each other, a sweating, heaving mass of testosterone with arms of useless jelly.

  Exhilaration voided the exhaustion and they celebrated together, jumping and cheering and punching the air. The whole clan was dancing with joy while the other team applauded them.

  'Well done, boys,' they shouted together. 'Well done, brothers.'

  Winners and losers abounded that day, joy and exhilaration filled the dusky night air, and as each tribe made their way home, there wasn't one man, woman or boy who didn't think that they would be back next year to challenge for the glory.

  When they returned home, Keao had gone in to speak with Jena. He knew that she would want news of her friends. Ajeya had been out in the fields all day practising with her bow and arrows, and now was back to listen in on the conversation.

  'It was a tremendous day, such a shame that Ajeya couldn't come. I watched a clan girl win the archery competition; she beat off all the opposition. You will come next year won't you Ajeya? It's at the Marshland Tribe next year.'

  Ajeya nodded to her brother. 'You try and stop me.'

  Her mother smiled. She had waited patiently for Keao to spill out his enjoyment first. Only then did she ask him what was at the forefront of her mind. 'Did you see Laith or Artemisia?'

  Keao was aware of her anxiety in waiting, and only wished he had better news. 'I saw Laith, and I met his son Namir, but there was no Artemisia. I'm sorry.'

  'Did you ask about her?' she said hopefully.

  'Mother, how could I have done that? I didn't see her at all. I was looking for her, I really was. I went round all the stalls and all the tents. I thought as a host leader she would be somewhere. But I really couldn't see her. And I couldn't ask where she was. It would have been too probing and possibly insensitive if something had happened to her.'

  Jena looked sad but understood his dilemma. 'Did Laith look well.' Again she yearned for a positive reaction.

  Keao bit his bottom lip to compose himself, he so wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear. 'Unfortunately, not. Again I am sorry, but I barely recognised him. He had aged so much. I remember thinking of him as a young man when I first met him, and how much younger he looked than father. But now,' he paused at the recollection. 'He is half the man he was. I could see a sadness in his eyes. He was carrying a heavy burden.'

  'Did you speak to him?'

  'I didn't, because despite looking old, he did look content amongst all his friends, and I would have reminded him of a past which he was clearly trying to deal with.'

  Sadness tinged the swollen hut. The man, who, in such a short time, had filled their hearts with so much hope and happiness, gaiety, and laughter, was now fighting his own demons, and no one knew why.

  Jena wiped away a tear. 'Something dreadful happened, I know it, and it's my fault that we left them, and now I will never know what happened to them.'

  'It wasn't your fault, mother. You were protecting your children and you weren't to know. It was such a long time ago now. Anything could have happened in that time.'

  Hagen put an arm around her. 'Keao is right, Jena. It was such a long time ago now and digging up the past would have served no purpose. And besides, we all get old. Just because he has aged doesn't mean that something bad happened to him. Cherish the thoughts that you have of them and be calm in the knowledge that they were all safe. Her son was at the Gathering, which suggests they were all together. Anything that happened after that was not down to you.'

  She dried her eyes and wiped her nose. 'Thank you, Hagen. I'm being a foolish old woman now. I'm sorry, Keao. I'm glad you had a nice time.'

  But Ajeya noticed the sadness in her mother's eyes and knew how much she yearned to know the truth. She had held on to the memory of that awful day for so many years now and still didn't know what had happened to her dear friends. But as Keao had just told her, Artemisia's son was there. Laith was there. Perhaps she had died in childbirth or some other time since. No one would ever know for sure now. But Keao had an insight for these things. He had a sixth sense that he was blessed with. He could read people. He knew what they were feeling just by looking into their eyes. And if Keao sensed that Laith was carrying a burden, then he probably was… and that made her sad as well.

  The journey home had been a silent one for Dainn. His father had barely said a word.

  'Are you all right, father?'

  Colom looked at him in bewilderment as if he hadn't heard him properly. 'Hmm?'

  'I said are you all right, father. You seem troubled?'

  'We will talk when we are home, son.' And he limply snatched the rein, and stared at the debris being splattered across the path by the horses hooves.

  The journey continued with Colom immersed in his own thoughts and Dainn wondering what on earth could be wrong. It wasn't until they were eating supper that evening that Colom finally spoke. But his voice was heavy.

  'This year's Gathering was another success for all, and as usual we welcome the chance to live side by side with our fellow clans and prosper in peace and harmony as we celebrate our good fortune together.'

  Their nodding heads were in full agreement.

  'Hear, hear, father,' said Dainn heartily. 'The Gathering installs peace in a time honoured tradition.'

  'I know, son, and it also gives us leaders a chance to know what is going on in the subject kingdoms and be alerted to anything that is unusual, or what we have to prepare ourselves for.'

  Dainn's face changed. 'Is there something you are trying to tell us, father?' He looked at his mother.

  Peira took up her son's uncertainty. 'Yes, my love, if there is something troubling you, then you must tell us.'

  Colom leaned back in his chair and pushed his plate away. 'I do have some disturbing news, and I want to keep it to ourselves for the moment. I do not want to worry the clan. So, please, give me your word that you will not speak to anyone about what I am about to tell you.'

  'I give you my word, father, but what is it?' Dainn stopped eating and put his spoon in the bowl.

  Peira nodded. 'You also have my word.'

  'There is a General who goes by the name of Domitrius Corbulo, he works for the Emperor Gnaeus of Ataxata.' Colom's voice was hushed.

  Dainn and Peira looked at each other, their faces ashen, their hearts racing in anticipation.

  'He calls himself the angel of the gods, that he is a tool for cleansing the kingdoms of unwanted savages and parasites.'

  'So, how does that affect us?' said an anxious Dainn.

  'We have been told that the Emperor has developed a new passion that he holds for a few weeks in the summer. He likes to please his people, his officials and his guests with his own version of the games.'

  'What games are those?' asked Peira.

  'He forces boys to fight in his new arena. He considers everyone outside his kingdom a savage and a parasite, especially the clans, and must only be used for his gratification.'

  'What sort of fighting are we talking about here?' ask
ed Peira.

  Colom shook his head and breathed deeply to compose himself. He really didn't want to say the awful truth, but he couldn't lie to his family. 'We have been told they are known as the killing games,' he sighed heavily. 'We have reason to believe there have been deaths already, but we cannot be sure of the numbers.'

  Peira and Dainn were shocked into silence. Colom tried to ease their obvious concerns.

  'We do have an advantage,' he started. 'We are so far north that he might not even come this far. He would need food and equipment to last several days. He would have to go through the mountains and hazardous conditions to get here. It just wouldn't be worth his while, so I am fairly certain that we are safe. Though I do not want to worry the clan unnecessarily, because it might not even happen. But I wanted to tell you just so that you can be vigilant and prepared.'

  'Can I tell Ajeya?'

  'Not yet, son, please. It will worry her, and she will tell her parents. So, for now, just keep it to yourself.'

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Another year had passed and all was well in the camp, and it was with an air of contentment that Dainn and Ajeya strolled through the small grove of deciduous trees towards their own flowering glade—a small luxurious meadow, a verdant piece of the landscape, that sat beautifully amid the tranquil setting of the silent pool. They had been here many times, but none so much as the season they were in now for the days were long and the midday hours unusually warm.

  The clan rose early in these months and escaped the burn of the august sun by retreating to their huts. Dainn and Ajeya preferred the misty glade draped with the moisture from the pool.

  'Be very still and look over there, near the water.' Dainn kept his voice low.