Pagan Curse (Tribes of Britain Book 2)

by Sam Taw

  I sat on the rocks next to the fires while Faolan’s men fetched and carted all that was needed from the settlement to the standing stones at Callanish. The holy man visited Suliaman on his own. Not even Maleek was permitted entry to the house while they spoke. When their meeting was over, I watched the Skotek priest leaving. He had a harrowed look about him, wrinkled with anxiety and shaking his head gently from side to side. Perhaps he saw the need for urgency in his task.

  Fires burned across the rolling hills next to the loch, and yet not at the stones closest to where we landed the boats. From the rising moonlight, I could see the huge rocks casting mystical shadows on the frozen ground. Turning to Faolan, I asked, “Are we not using the largest circle over yonder for the ceremony?”

  The Chief was surprised. “You have not heard the tale?” When I shook my head, he continued. “That circle is forbidden. No one has used it since my grandfather’s father’s time. According to legend, a red demon from the underworld escaped through the burial cairn chamber in its centre. Twelve of the thirteen priests were killed. The one who survived cast an enchantment on the stones trapping it within. By daylight, he had a capstone sealed across the cairn and buried it with earth to close the rift between here and the underworld.”

  “Kyjya! That was quick thinking on the priest’s part. How is it that he managed to survive to tell the tale?” His story intrigued me. The circle was the largest and most impressive I’d seen other than Stonehenge.

  “No one knows. Just lucky, I guess. The demon drove stakes through their hearts and smeared their blood over the guardian stone in the middle. Perhaps it kept him alive on purpose, to warn others to stay away.”

  I thought about Faolan’s account for a while. How would a demon find enough stakes to kill that many priests if it was trapped within the circle? Did they just stand there and take their final blows without running away or fighting back? I asked these preponderances to the Chief, but he had no answers for me.

  When the moon was full and high in the night sky, we ate around the fire and then we were taken to various houses in the settlement to wash, the men went one way, us women another. One by one, we were collected by different holy men and taken to our allotted spaces for the ceremony. Idina and her maidens were collected a long time before they came for me. I was starting to think that I would not be required for the ritual, when the high priest himself knocked at the door and bowed to me. His white beard was long enough to cover most of his chest. With that and his black robes, he was utterly colourless. Even his skin seemed grey.

  “Fur Benyn, please, follow me.” He handed me two crystalline rocks, placing one in each palm with such gentleness it was hard for me to think of him ever having to battle demons and curses. I slung my cloak around me and fastened the front together to keep out the cold. I wore almost every item of clothing I had to ward off the weather. As chilling as it was, the effect of the hoarfrost on the landscape was spectacular. Light from the moon and the fires surrounding the stones gleamed across the rolling hills in the distance, and the gigantic rocks glistened in silvery hues.

  The holy man had long legs. I could barely keep up with him as he paced along the avenue of blazing torches that directed us past the closest forbidden stones and up a mild incline. Even at a distance, I could see a massive pointed stone, flanked either side by two thinner pillars. Another looked to have a face of its own, peering up towards the stars. The ground inside the circle was lined with cobbles. Half the space was covered by a wooden platform. This was where the holy men stood.

  Maleek and Tallack stood facing the wooden structure, with Suliaman on his fur stretcher at their feet. As I approached, the priests began quietly chanting and banging drums in a rhythmic fashion. My nephew opened his fists a little to show me that he too carried white rocks in his hands. His brows raised in comedy at the scene before us. It was no laughing matter, but my love for him made me smirk at his irreverence.

  The priest shot us both evil scowls. I concentrated immediately on his speech. “Stone priests hear us. We have come this night for your help.” The drums rattled off a thunderous round. I took it to mean that he believed the myth that the rocks were once giants of men, trained in the priestly arts, who gazed for too long at the skies.

  “Before you, stands a man in desperate need. His father weakens under an unholy curse. Together they have crossed vast lands and oceans to seek your wisdom and healing skills.” There was a moment filled with more drumming and hand gestures towards the stars. I looked about me. There were no more than five or six holy men on the platform. Where were the others? Where was Cade and Idina, Faolan and Jago?

  A cracking noise brought me to attention as the priests behind us smashed two of their white rocks together. As the next one did the same, I saw the flashes of light shining in his hand. Each holy man wrapped the stones together in turn, creating a little arc of light between them.

  “You must join in if we are to create a sacred light worthy of Lugh.” The High Priest said. We raised our hands and tried to coordinate with the holy men’s sparks. The flickers of light danced in the darkness, leaving trails behind my lids whenever I closed my eyes. I am not a righteous person, nor a devout one, but I prayed that Lugh, The God of Light, would see our signal and come to our aid.

  We worked up quite a sweat, smashing the rocks together in the circle, until the priests suddenly stopped. Maleek, Tallack and I did the same, and watched as a woman walked from behind one of the pillars carrying a bowl of steaming water. I could tell from the smell that it contained the root of burdock. She knelt on Suliaman’s furs and uncovered his face and head. She gasped at his appearance, for even in the low torch and firelight, he was ravaged by the curse.

  Those red-rimmed eyes were so sunken that his brow had flattened and his cheeks hollowed. His nose was no more than a stub of thin skin with enlarged nostrils. The woman dipped a cloth into the bowl and hesitated, afraid to touch him. Even though I had much longer to grow used to the sight of him, I could understand her reluctance. Whether she feared giving him further pain, or worried about the curse jumping to her, she did not move.

  I tucked the white rocks into my cloak pockets and knelt beside her. “Here, let me.” It took only a moment for her to agree. She scrambled to her feet, threw the clippers to the ground and hurried away. I washed his face with the cloth, and then poured a little from the bowl over the top of his head and hair. His remaining hand was gnarled into a claw, and each finger shortened by a considerable amount. I picked it up and dunked it into the burdock water and dried it on my tunic. “There. That’s better isn’t it?”

  Suliaman tried to raise his head, his eyes straining to open. “You’re a good woman, Meliora. I’m so sorry.”

  Frowning, I struggled to my feet. It was only a warm wash. He couldn’t help it if the ailment laid him so low that he couldn’t clean himself.

  The High Priest stood central on the platform and faced the hills in the distance. The silhouette on the horizon looked like a reclined woman. This, Skotek tribes believed, was the Earth Mother herself. “Mother and Goddess Cerridwen, we beseech thee. Look upon this man with your favour and grant him a pardon from the strife of this wicked curse.” The priest glanced in my direction and nodded to the clippers on the ground. I must have given him my best screwed up face, since he bent over and whispered, “Clip some of his hair and burn it in the flames.”

  Why this was my job, I couldn’t tell, but Tallack and Maleek seemed to be preoccupied in a stare off of their own. Sighing, I did as the man asked. There were not many strands of hair for me to cut. What little I found at the back of his head, I clipped carefully, stepped up to the platform and threw the hair into the closest fire.

  The drums fell silent. The priests stopped their chanting and two heavy men set among them, walked to Suliaman and picked him up on the stretcher.

  “What happens now?” I muttered to Tallack. He shrugged, taking my arm as we turned to follow the priests so that I would not fall on th
e icy ground. “Was that it?”

  Tallack leaned into my ear. “Considering we’re heading up the hill towards more fires, I’d say that was just the start.”

  I blew out my cheeks. When I first agreed to bring the Prince to the top of the world, I never imagined that I’d be expected to play such an active part in the ritual. Puffing and blowing with exertion, I dragged myself up the hill to another contorted set of stones – a circle within a circle.

  Every rock had something unique about it, a different colour, or shape or angle at which it was positioned. It all felt very deliberate and staged, as though the pillars had special meaning and powers.

  To my eyes, the most noticeable was that of a huge pintel, towering into the sky as though it could get every woman in the world with child. Tallack saw it too and sniggered. Bless him, sometimes I forget how young he is, considering he is one of our tribal Chieftains. As we drew closer, I saw some of our friends and travelling companions already at the site. Standing on a slab of stone dug into the grass, was a tethered ox chewing on the cud in the moonlight. At least Faolan managed to trade for a large beast at the last moment. How fortunate we are having met him and his tribesmen.

  The other shadowy figures came into view shortly after. Idina and her maids, Renowden and Cade, some of Faolan’s men stood next to him and his sons. It was a relief that the whole fraught ordeal was almost over. The priests lay the stretcher down in the centre of the inner circle and joined others as they spread out to stand next to a pillar. Thirteen tall stones, with thirteen priests in front of them, one for every full moon in the solar cycle.

  The chanting resumed. It was louder than ever. The holy men lifted the hoods of their robes over their heads so that their faces were obscured in the darkness. I could not tell them apart. One stepped forward and took Renowden by the wrist, leading him to a pillar on one side of the misshapen circle. Before they reached their destination, another performed the same movement with Ealar. A third collected and positioned Faolan, until all but three stones were represented by one of our party. There were five of us left, barring the Prince, and only three stones remaining, Maleek, Tallack, Idina, one of her maidens and myself. I looked all about me for Jago, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  A sharply pointed white stone stood at one end of the circle with a red rock on its right and a tall black stone on its left. I had seen and heard about such combinations within god temples. It gave me an inkling of why we were left until last. Another hooded priest stepped quickly and grabbed hold of Idina, pulling her to the red stone. She giggled at the attention, setting down her wooden votive panel to stand in pride of place. The priest turned to face us, announcing, “Mother,” in a loud voice.

  Next was the turn of her young lady friend. She bounced and skipped up to the white pointed rock, touched it surface and then faced us with a twinkling smile.

  “Maiden.” The holy man said and stood to one side.

  I knew I’d be next. “Yes, yes.” I sighed. “I get the picture.” Grumbling and muttering, I navigated the holes and bumps of the grassy circle and stood in front of the black pillar.

  “Crone.” Came the proclamation.

  Tallack bit his lips to halt a grin when they finally came for him. Two priests manoeuvred him to stand with his back against the enormous phallus. Maleek stayed in the middle next to his father, his hands cupped over his mouth.

  Thirteen of us were to play a role in the ritual. Thirteen priests stood behind each of the stones. In a flash of chaos, they ran around each of us with a thick cord of rope, binding us to our respective pillars. We were helpless and vulnerable.

  One priest knotted my bindings tightly, the rope cutting into my ribcage. He walked into the centre and crouched beside the Prince on his stretcher. I recognised his voice; it was the High Priest himself.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? There is still time to revert to our ways.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Suliaman nodded. He was content with the ritual thus far, and had no intention of altering whatever plans they’d agreed to in private. The High Priest shook his head. He was not pleased with the situation, but cared more about his payment than our comfort.

  Maleek waved at two of Faolan’s men who had carried the grinning statue all the way from the boats to the stones at the top of the world. They positioned it next to Suliaman on a flat slab of rock. Maleek ducked behind a wide pillar and gathered up the fine fabric bundle, which I knew contained the grotesque masks.

  My stomach belched vile humours up my throat, my heart thundered in my ears. Every part of my skin was hot enough to cook eggs. I wanted to throw off my cloak and several layers of woollen fabric. Maleek rose from his crouched position, carrying one of the masks. He turned about, peering at each of our friends tied against the glistening rocks. I could feel the emotions stinging the back of my eyes and nose. His gaze swept past Faolan and Cade, Greum and Renowden. He did not even look at the first handmaiden. His vision slowed when he reached Idina.

  “Mother.” Maleek said. “Or soon will be while you hold my father’s enchanted votive panel.” His eyes looked on to the girl bound to the pointed stone. “Maiden.” He said, through necessity. When he got to me, he started walking closer. “Crone.”

  All that passed through my mind, was the lingering thought that I had lived a good long life. It was my turn to save the younger ones, who still had memories to make. It wasn’t my desired outcome, but better me than any of the others. My pulse calmed as I came to terms with my fate. Maleek stepped up to me and held out the binding string over the back of my head, slipping the clay face down over mine, until I could just see through the half-moon eye slits.

  “I am sorry that it has to be this way, after all the kindness you have shown me and my father.” He said, his voice cracking, making him clear his throat to finish his sentiments.

  “I understand, lad. I have no blame for you. Just make it quick.” I said, surprising myself at my capacity for forgiveness.

  “The mask is so that our God Melkarth cannot see your tears. A life must be given freely and with joy, if it is to lift the curse, although he will not be used to the age of the offering.”

  Even at this tragic moment, I had to laugh. Not only was the cad going to kill me, but he had the audacity to call me old too.

  Maleek looked deeply distressed by my laughter. “You think it funny that Melkarth insists on us offering babes younger than five cycles? He is only satisfied with those of pure spirits, but we cannot wait for Idina to birth a boy.”

  “What? Babes, you slaughter babies?” I was still yelling my questions as he walked away. With a short detour, Maleek scooped up the second mask and ambled to the giant phallus at Tallack’s back.

  “Hey! No! Maleek, I’ve already said I will give my life freely. Don’t touch him. You cannot have my nephew. Stop this!” The more I wrestled against my bindings, the more the ropes dug into my ribs and belly. My cries and moans of distress were muffled by the hideous mask. “Please…” I begged; the sound of my own pitiful sobs distorted by the pottery.

  “I am sorry, my friend.” He said as he attached the mask to Tallack’s face. He too struggled to free himself, but the knots held firm. The chanting grew louder along with the drums. The wolf lady’s words, from the estuary on Canti lands, came back to me.

  “Heed my warning, Fur Benyn. He’ll take that which you love most. Don’t let him turn your heart to stone.”

  We should have paid more attention to her warning. I’d dismissed her as a fraud, and now her words were coming to pass. I may be old but I am far from wise. My beautiful, brave nephew stood tall and proud. I could tell that he was dry eyed and stoic behind that mask. It was the Dumnoni way.

  The chanting became louder for a few moments and then ceased altogether. The High Priest nodded to Maleek. It was time.

  The more I wriggled the more the ropes burned into my flesh. Nothing I could say or do would stop Suliaman and Maleek from taking their chosen life. I ca
lled out to the High Priest to stop the madness. His response was to pull his hood further down, blocking his face.

  Maleek took a pace closer to Tallack and another towards the wide pillar to his left, and yanked a skinny dark boy out from behind the rock. A thrumming in my chest increased my panic. A cascade of tears clouded my sight. Frantically blinking until the blur shifted, Jago came into focus. The gag choked him, the binding at his wrist looked to have dislocated his arm at the shoulder.

  “Please, don’t do this. I’ll give you all the gold I have in the world, Tallack will give you tin, more than his body weight. Please…” I offered much more besides, but Maleek would not listen.

  He held Jago by his good arm, and dragged him to the sacrificial slab by Suliaman’s stretcher. Every organ inside my body trembled, my fists clenched with powerless fury and I cried like a babe. Maleek untied the gag and thrust Jago down on his knees.

  The boy turned to see me clad in the gruesome mask and smiled. “Do not weep for me, Fur Benyn. I’m grateful for the love you have shown me, but I knew this day would come.”

  All the time he’d known. The statue was a stark and daily reminder of his forthcoming sacrifice. The more I loved him, the greater the target he became. What ruthless religion thrives on killing those who are loved the most?

  I couldn’t keep the sobbing quiet. He was the closest I had ever been to having a child of my own, and now some cruel ruler with his vicious gods were taking him from me.

  “I go now to be with my wife. Thank you, Meliora, for all that you tried to do for me.” Jago closed his eyes and faced Maleek with his head held high. Suliaman started his feeble incantation to Melkarth.

  “Forgive me.” Maleek cried, taking out his curved blade and slashing it across Jago’s throat in one swipe.

  The wound was vast and deadly. Jago’s life force and soul poured through it and out onto the ground. His body toppled sideways and crashed to the grass.