by Sam Taw
I let them be, choosing to ignore their changeable attitudes. There was enough to worry about without adding to our troubles. Ren maybe comfortable lighting big fires on Durotriges land, but I was not. We ate as soon as the fish and crab were ready, with a little boiled tender seaweed. The salty taste gave me a thirst, but I was not in the mood to stay up late drinking ale and sharing secrets two nights in a row.
Leaving the young ones to the chores, I dug out a dip in the soft sand closest to the warm rocks of the cliff face and rolled myself in my furs. The anxious thoughts had not left me, but I lay so still that eventually I dropped off to sleep.
Endelyn had to jog my shoulder to wake me in the morning. Our things were already packed onto our horses, except for a portion of thin porridge made with water and my bedding.
“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” I hurried to my feet and Sorcha grabbed my furs while they were still warm from my body. Kewri handed me my bowl and a spoon. What was happening? Had they suddenly paid heed of my warnings about Sorcha’s place in camp or were they in as big a hurry to return home as Endelyn?
Rushed and disorientated, I let them all bustle around me until we were ready to set off on the last leg of the journey to the circle. The further inland we rode, the more homesteaders and campsites we had to dodge.
The horses picked up on our fear, nickering and trying to bolt every time a flock of birds soared into the air from the trees either side of the track. It was exhausting, keeping them moving along the trail while scanning for any potential hostile forces ahead.
By late afternoon, we passed through a shallow valley of grassland. On the southern side, the burial barrows at the top of the hill looked like cresting whales in a sea of black clouds. I shivered, although the day was not cold. You could feel the presence of the Durotriges’ ancestors nearby. I wondered if their dead were trying to find a way to betray us to the living. We had nowhere to run or hide. If the Duros chose to attack us now, there would be no chance of any of us surviving.
Our luck held out all the way through the valley until we reached a small stream.
Ren pulled up the reins of his horse and dismounted. “From what I remember, the stones are not far from here. We follow the meander in the stream and the circle is right next to the water. Make sure that you have removed anything that would give us away as Dumnonii. No jewels or metals on show for example. Sorcha, keep your trap shut or your accent will attract attention. Endelyn, you lead the way, since you know the priest.” We all did as we were told, taking out hair rings and hiding metal in our underclothes and in my healing bag.
Before he mounted his pony, he looked back at us all. “Remember, don’t step into the circle, for any reason whatsoever.”
If his intention was to allay my fears, he did a terrible job. I could feel my porridge swimming about inside my stomach before it erupted into my gullet, but on we rode.
Our timing could not have been any better. It was too late in the day for morning rituals and too early for sunset ceremonies. Apart from a few old women and a tall man in long robes, the place was empty of Duros. My breathing steadied at our good fortune.
The circle itself was much smaller than I was expecting. The nine stones, said to have formed from the bodies of children when they were cursed by Cernonnus and turned into stone, were all completely different in shape and size. There appeared to be no equal spacing, nor anything to symbolise the usual beings represented at circles elsewhere. The stream ran so close to the boundary that I was worried about refilling my water bladder in case I strayed into the sacred ring. As I slithered down the side of my pony and crouched at the bank side, Endelyn stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Not here, Fur Benyn. We’ll refill on the way home upstream. Just to be safe.”
I froze for a moment, not knowing which way to turn. The priestess tucked her hand under my elbow and gently pulled me in a sweeping arc around the edge of the circle and across a plank bridge over the water.
“I want you to meet my friend. He’s almost as wise as you, Fur Benyn.” Everything about her was calm, as though being close to the stones gave her comfort. Close proximity only served to give me the chills, especially after Ren’s tale about his unfortunate friend. The same new moon sat below the horizon waiting to shine on the rock children at dusk.
She steered me towards the tall man in the long robes and introduced us. I admit I was not paying particular attention to what she was saying and completely missed his name.
As they greeted one another, my gaze was drawn to the stones behind me. One was large and stout, with a reddish hue. It was at least double the size of the tiny one at its side. I wondered how old the children were before Cernonnus cast his ire upon them, encasing them in rock for all time. Did they really deserve such wrath?
This place demanded deep respect and careful steps. Kewri and Sorcha rode their horses across the stream and dismounted a short distance from where I stood with Endelyn and the priest. Ren stayed well away, refusing to leave his horse.
The trees surrounding the dell were almost in full leaf, throwing us all into shadow. The stench of offal and charred herb bundles wafted into my nostrils from a pile of sacrificial offerings on the altar stone in the centre. Thank Cernonnus that Endelyn had her wits about her. She began the negotiations to trade for whatever poppy resin the priest could spare. She offered him a handsome amount of copper to begin with, but he wouldn’t accept the deal. He could see that we were desperate and that he was in a strong bargaining position. We had no gold to offer, but a sizable number of tin nuggets transformed his scowl into a smile.
With the small pot of resin sealed by wax drippings in my pocket, I heaved a sigh of relief. We could be away from this eerie site before the sun set. I turned around to begin the slippery crossing over the bridge, but stopped when I heard Endelyn speak softly to the man.
“While I am here, I should be grateful of your counsel.” She whispered to the priest. I returned to her side, curious as to her question. Sorcha and Kewri were bickering again next to their horses. His clumsy dismount had over balanced his cart horse. To compensate for Kewri’s heavy bulk, the creature stamped in the soft mud, jostling against Sorcha in the process. Their behaviour was no better than children. Perhaps that is part of the dark magic of this place, to regress those close by towards infancy.
Endelyn was encouraged by the old priest’s expression and continued. “Our Chieftain suffers from the corruption of an evil spirit. It was the result of a careless naming ceremony and the misuse of the sun disc used to close the portal to the Underworld.” She flicked her head around and saw my look of shame. “Not your fault, Fur Benyn. You are not to blame.” She reached out and touched my hand, squeezing my fingers together tightly. “Wise priest, is there a way to banish this demon from a much-loved Chief?”
I watched him cover his mouth and then stroke his straggly beard, pondering on her request for aid. “Come and sit by the fire, Endelyn. This will require much thought.” His offer seemed to include me, so I followed them to the bleak shelter between the trees where a woman ladled stew into a bowl.
We waited for the priest to arrange his robes around the low stool on which he sat. Once comfortable, he beckoned us closer and instructed the woman to serve us with what remained in the pot over the fire. Given the number of dead offerings in the circle, they were not short of food. Endelyn settled first, accepting the meal with her usual grace and gratitude. My bowl was less full than hers, but still warm and welcome in the chilly atmosphere surrounding us.
The priestess took her time in explaining Blydh’s injury and the alteration to his behaviour since the naming ceremony for his little sister, Delen. All the while she spoke the old man nodded into his stew, only lifting his face to shove more bread into his mouth. From his dazed expression, I was beginning to think he hadn’t heard a word of Endelyn’s plea but at length, he put down his bowl and turned to us both.
“Dear ladies. It’s clear to me that you care a g
reat deal for this young man and his wellbeing. He is a lucky fellow indeed. As to his affliction, this is grave news and hopes for a cure are slim.” It pained me to hear him say the words, although I was half expecting them.
Endelyn took in a sharp breath and leaned closer to him. “But not lost altogether. There must be something that can be done.”
“Perhaps, but it’s not a suggestion I make lightly.”
Typical priest, loved to make every moment a drama centred around themselves. If it was not his supper time, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d twirled around and doused us all with chicken blood.
“Tell us, wise one. What can we do to save our Chief from this wicked possession?” Endelyn was lapping up his performance, but then, she was as bad as him for craving attention.
“I have heard of a place where the water gushes up from a hole in the ground. They say it smells of the Underworld and is so potent that all demonic spirits are called back home from its power. You must take your Chief there and perform the Ritual of Eternal Solace, bless him with the stinking hot waters and intone the chant of Cernonnus. Make sure you give a generous offering to the gods or the ritual will have the reverse effect.”
“You mean…?”
“Yes, rather than removing a dark spirit, you will summon more.” The old man boomed his warning out across the dell for everyone to hear. Sorcha and Kewri stopped their jostling and bickering and stood slack jawed at the warning.
I grew tired of the show. “And where exactly is this hot spring of eternal damnation?”
He peered his rheumy eyes at me through narrowed lids, annoyed that I’d curtailed his performance. “Where the River Avon meets the Severn, and then two day’s ride from the muddy eastern banks to the hot springs inland.”
“That all sounds fairly straight forward.” I said, rising from my stool. “Thank you for your hospitality…”
“But you must stop at the estuary first, at the mouth of the Avon.” He interrupted, gesturing for me to sit back down. “The spring lies on Belgae land and they don’t take kindly to strangers invading their sacred well.”
I thought it sounded too good to be true. “What are they likely to want in return for granting us access to the spring, a first-born child sacrifice or my left arm severed at the shoulder?”
He was not pleased with my flippancy. He stood tall from his seat, stepped nearer, and glowered down at me. “Treat my advice with contempt if you must, but take that tone with the Chief of the Belgae and it’ll be the last joke you ever make.”
Suitably chastised, I gave him my sincerest apologies and bowed my head with respect. It was his circle, his shelter, and his food. He didn’t have to advise us. My quarrelsome ways will get me in hot water one of these days.
“Send a scout to request an audience with their Chief, and offer him a decent metal tribute. If he is satisfied with the level of respect shown, he will invite you into his camp to discuss your intentions.”
Endelyn chimed into the debate. “And if he doesn’t?”
The priest raised his brows and puckered his mouth. “You’d better hope he does.”
Neither of us needed clarification on the possible consequences of upsetting the powerful leader. It sounded like a dangerous mission with not much chance of success. “Can’t we just get Endelyn to perform those rituals and incantations at one of our own circles? Men an Tol has a good record of healing, or perhaps our Nine Maidens where she was the primary priestess.”
The old man gave me a searing glare from the corner of his eyes. “For something as ingrained as an evil spirit possession, no other sacred space will do.” He didn’t wait for us to argue the point. He took Endelyn by both hands and helped her to her feet. “It was nice to see you again, my child. Go now and prepare for the journey.” They touched foreheads together for a long moment, before parting. To me he said nothing. He simply turned his back to me and walked off towards the wooded region behind the stones.
Endelyn was tight lipped and cross with me. I hadn’t made a very good impression on her friend. Their priestly ways had never sat well in my conscience and I found it difficult to take them seriously let alone revere them as others did. “I meant no offence.” I said, but she wasn’t content with my pathetic excuse for an apology.
The main thing was that we had secured enough resin to keep Blydh’s headaches at bay. I stomped back over the bridge and glanced about me. Kewri was fiddling with the reins of his horse, Ren was exactly where I had left him and Endelyn followed on behind me. Sorcha’s horse chewed the grass on the bank of the stream.
“Where’s she got to now?” I blew out my cheeks in exasperation. “Kewri. Where’s Sorcha?”
He had one foot on the stirrup straps, holding the horse’s mane and the blanket covering the creature’s back. “Said she needed a piss.” He muttered into the soft hair of the cart horse.
I moved around Kewri’s enormous pony and twisted in every direction. It didn’t take long for me to spot her. She was squatting behind the largest stone inside the circle, emptying her bladder in their sacred space.
CHAPTER FIVE
Endelyn shrieked, Renowden gasped, I ran closer and beckoned Sorcha to hurry from the circle before she was seen by the priest.
“What? What’s wrong? I had to pish.” Her Skotek accent was broader than ever. “Even you have to do that, you know.” Sorcha ambled towards me, pulling up her leggings and allowing her tunic to fall over her nether regions.
As soon as she was clear of the circle, I grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to the ponies. “Didn’t you listen to a word Ren said? The stones are cursed.”
“Och, that’s just a tale to scare the children.” She was still tying the cord about her waist while I pushed and shoved her closer to her horse.
“Don’t you see, you stupid girl?” Endelyn cried. “Those stones are Duro children and you have just desecrated their holy circle.” The priestess covered her face with both hands, as though the ague that Sorcha was in peril of developing would jump across the air and infect her too.
Ren yanked his pony’s reins to the left, kicking him gently in the side until he faced the way we came. “I did say this was a bad idea, not that anyone listens to me.” Clicking his tongue, he urged the horse into a canter, setting the pace for us all to follow. I suspect he thought that by speeding away from the source of danger we might be protected. I knew differently. Curses seldom work that way.
It made me think of the Phoenician visitors to our shores, who needed a cure for a different type of curse. They pretended to be friends and allies all the way to the top of the world in search of their cure. Just when we thought we had found the solution to their problems; they stole away my Jago and slaughtered him as an offering to their gods. It didn’t stop the curse from spreading and neither would galloping away from the Nine Children.
Youngsters like Sorcha always think that rules are made to stop them having fun, or to prove that we can control them. It’s only when they’ve fallen foul of our advice that they begin to understand the purpose of customs, laws, and rituals. We rode the horses hard until we reached the beach where we’d camped the night before.
No one dared to speak, except for the generally quiet Kewri. Every so often, he would lean across to Sorcha sitting under the bedding furs next to the fire and ask her if she felt unwell. Her response was the same each time, a quick shake of the head and rapid blinking as she grew more anxious through the evening.
We ate a sparse meal of cooked oats with a few cockles and stayed close to the fire to sleep. Come morning, I awoke to see Kewri standing over Sorcha, watching her sleep. Normally, I would find that kind of behaviour creepy, but I wriggled out of my furs and stood next to him. I too was curious as to whether there was any sign of the ague upon her. When she stirred, we both scurried away, busying ourselves with bundling our bedding and cooking pots.
Endelyn was less subtle in her approach. “Let me see you, child.” She demanded, pulling the covers off
the girl and squinting in the early light at her face and neck. “Show me your arms.”
Sorcha rolled up the sleeves of her tunic, exposing pale freckled limbs.
“Hmm. She looks fine.” The priestess barked.
“I am fine. Takes more than a silly story to take down a Novantae Shield Maiden.” She chuckled, jumping up from her bedding to eat the leftover oats. No one else found it a laughing matter.
Renowden’s pace was gruelling. My backside was bruised and sore and the horses were foaming with sweat by the time we reached the second camping site. Being so close to our own border, the night was more relaxed than our first, until I saw Sorcha scratching her armpits. That was also when I first noticed that she had a new fur collar.
“Where did you get that from.” I stomped over to her and prodded the animal hide fastened about her shoulders. “You were not wearing that before.”
She wouldn’t meet my eye. Sniffing and turning away from me, she said. “I traded for it. Not that it’s your business how I clothe myself. I belong to Chief Tallack, not you.”
How her attitude had changed from when I met her at the Novantae compound near to the top of the world. She was such a sweet and generous girl back then. I knew for a fact that she possessed nothing valuable to trade. The only explanation was that she’d stolen it from the priest and his woman back at the Nine Children Stones.
My face must have betrayed my incredulity.
“I found it in the circle. A bramble scratched my ankle and when I sat on the stones to examine the cut, I saw it folded on the ground. No one wanted it.” She fondled the tatty pelt defiantly. Ren and Endelyn exchanged glances. We all knew that she had taken one of the offerings to the gods, but it was futile to point out the error of her ways.