Origin of Druid

by Mark Philipson

  Plants covered the ground. Kermode reached down and pulled two plants out by the roots. He turned and walked back. The fire roared. Kermode went inside.

  He got to work. First he plucked each of the dark green leaves off of the plant. From a cabinet Kermode removed a polished stone mortar. A polished stone pistil crushed the flowers. Kermode crushed the woad leaves into a fine powder. He added fresh water. He stirred the mixture until the woad powder turned the water a deep green color.

  Kermode grabbed a piece of cloth. He dipped one end of the cloth into the mix. He lifted the cloth out of the mixture and squeezed. The woad dye spread throughout the cloth. The light wool fibers became a dark green.

  Kermode reached up. He removed a large clay bottle from a shelf. He uncorked the bottle and poured a course black powder into the mortar. The woad dye absorbed the charcoal granules instantly. The woad dye changed from a shade of dark green to a shade of black so dark it would be what a man with no eyes would see.

  Next Kermode walked across the kitchen. He stepped past Osker asleep on a straw mat on the floor. From where he and Idellsa slept he lifted clean robes off a hook. He returned to the kitchen.

  Kermode bunched the robes up then dipped them into a bowl he’d poured the woad dye into. Kermode squeezed the dye into the robes until he couldn’t tell where the flesh of his hands ended and the wool of the robes began.

  Outside Kermode hung the robes near the heat of the fire where Idellsa burned. He sat on the ground with his back against the well and stared at the flames. His chin fell to his chest as he dozed off.

  “Kermode, Kermode.” The sound of his name woke him. He opened his eyes to see Kane standing over him.

  “What is it?” Kermode asked. He got to his feet. A throbbing headache hit him as he stood.

  “Roman soldiers are coming.”

  “How many?”

  “Four.”

  “Very well,” Kermode turned. He walked toward the house.

  “Where are you going?” Kane asked.

  “I must wake Osker and tell him to leave,” Kermode answered. “This is not his fight,” he shook his head. “You should leave as well, Kane. You took a chance in coming here.”

  Kane replied, “I’m not leaving you to those Roman dogs.” He drew the words out and shook his head the whole time.

  “Suit yourself, Kane,” Kermode said. “You know this may be our last moments on this world.”

  “Then we’d better make the most of it and and take some Romans with us.”

  Inside Kermode woke Osker. “You’d better get out. Soldiers are on the way.”

  “We can tell them what has happened here.”

  “That may not matter, Osker,” Kane said. “Elgin has sent for the soldiers and he is thick with the Romans.”

  “Elgin,” Kermode said. “You say Elgin has brought the soldiers down upon me?”

  Just then as the dawn broke and the sun peaked over the horizon the sound of hoofbeats became louder until the sound of leather slapping and metal clinking joined in.

  Kermode turned and walked across the kitchen. He removed the longbow from the deer horns on the wall and slung the quiver over his shoulder. Kermode knocked an arrow and sighted down the shaft. The Roman soldier in the lead stopped to look at the fire. The second he turned his head. Kermode released. The arrow flew then lodged itself in the man’s neck. Blood poured through the soldier’s hand as he clutched the shaft. He fell to the ground.

  The other soldiers froze. Kermode knocked another arrow and put it through another soldier’s eye.

  Kermode and Kane stepped out of the house. They picked up the fallen soldiers’ spears. One of the soldiers threw his spear. Kane ducked. The spear embedded itself into the front door. Kane rushed forward with the spear he’d picked up leveled at the soldier. The soldier still holding a spear moved to block Kane as the other soldier drew his sword. Kermode stepped forward. He crouched down and picked up the spear dropped by the first Roman killed. He drove the tip of the spear into the soldier’s armpit. The soldier fell. Kermode removed the spear then pushed the tip into the man’s neck. The last soldier turned to run. Kane threw the spear he held. It landed low and cut through the soldier’s knee. Kane stepped forward. He removed a sword from a dead soldier then finished the wounded soldier off.

  Twelve

  At Sea

  ALBINUS NORVANO ARCHITECTUS unwrapped the piece of cloth. Durst attempted to bite the hand. Architectus pulled away. He turned to a man standing next to him. “Try and reason with the boy,” he said in a language Durst didn’t know.

  The man spoke in words Durst knew, “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Durst nodded. He hadn’t eaten since he’d been taken from the house. He’d seen his mother slaughtered and he didn’t know where his father was. He’d cried until he’d had no tears left.

  “I am Nikolas,” the man said. He leaned in closer and tapped his hand to his chest.

  Durst shrugged and looked at the ropes binding his arms.

  “You want me to untie you so you can gesture as I did?” Nikolas asked. “Fair enough.” Nikolas loosened the knots tying Durst’s hands together. Durst rubbed his wrists then tapped his chest and said, “Durst.”

  A woman entered the room. As Durst’s mother was light haired and fair skinned this woman was dark haired and dark skinned. She looked at him through deep brown eyes. The woman set a bowl of fruit on the small table next to Durst. Durst reached for an apple. He polished it on his tunic and bit into it. “What is your name?” Durst asked the woman.

  The woman looked at Nikolas. Nikolas said something in the tongue of the Romans.

  “Zahide,” the woman said. She left the room and returned with a cup of water. Durst drained the cup and asked for more. Zahide left and returned with an clay pitcher. She poured more water.

  The man Durst had tried to bite stepped from out of a dark corner of the room. “Nikolas,” he said.

  “Yes, Architectus,” Nikolas replied.

  “Make sure the boy gets a bath and a clean toga.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Make it quick,” Architectus said. As he walked out of the room he added, “The ship sails on the tide. Judging by the level of the water on the dock pilings that should be within the hour.”

  Nikolas and Zahide led Durst out of the back door of the room. Nikolas put his finger to his lips before they stepped outside. Nikolas held one of Durst’s hands and Zahide held the other. They walked between square wooden buildings and onto a path that was covered in stones. More of the square buildings lined the stone road. People milled about. Voices speaking in the tongue of the Romans filled the air and mingled with the tongues of the tribes. The smell of the sea drifted in from beyond the buildings.

  They turned away from the sea and walked on the stone path until they reached a stone ring filled with water. From a pipe in a fish’s mouth at the center of the stone ring a steady stream of water kept the stone ring full. People dipped pitchers into the water then carried the pitchers away.

  Nikolas led Durst and Zahide into a building. Nikolas set a piece of copper on the counter. The man behind the counter palmed the piece of copper. “Go on in,” the man said. “Private baths are to the left.”

  In the room Nikolas took Durst to was the biggest bathtub he’d ever seen. Steaming hot water poured out of a dragon’s mouth. Even though the water never stopped coming out of the dragon’s mouth the water never rose past a line etched into the side of the top of the tub.

  “Stand here,” Nikolas told Durst. He pointed to a metal plate on the stone floor. Durst stood on the metal. The metal was pieces fit together like a thick spiderweb. “Take off your tunic,” Nikolas said. Durst didn’t move. “No one will hurt you,” Nikolas reassured him. Durst pulled his tunic off and stood naked before Nikolas and Zahide. Nikolas dipped a bucket in the bath water. He returned and poured the bucket of water over Durst’s head. The water fell through the metal plate and disappeared under the floor. Za
hide stepped forward and scrubbed Durst down with a sea sponge.

  “Is it over?” Durst asked.

  “It hasn’t even started,” Nikolas answered.

  From a box on the wall Zahide removed a small crescent shaped knife. The knife had a flat edge. Zahide pressed the edge of the knife against Durst’s skin. When the top layers of dirt, grime and, sweat were scraped off his skin Nikolas poured another bucket of water over Durst’s head.

  “Into the bath now.” Nikolas glanced at the big tub.

  “I can’t swim.” Durst said.

  “That’s all right,” Nikolas grinned. “”The water is not as deep as it looks.”

  Zahide removed her simple gown. She stood naked beside Durst. Her legs were long and the hair between her legs was trimmed very close to her body. Her body was smooth as black glass. The only hair hat grew out her was the the long raven black hair falling to her back and her thick eyebrows.

  “If you are afraid Zahide will protect you,” Nikolas said.

  Young Durst didn’t know what that meant. Did this man named Nikolas think he was a coward. Durst looked at the water. He reached up and held onto Zahide’s hand. Together they stepped into the bath.

  In the bath Zahide cleaned Durst again. She scrubbed from his toes to the top of his head.

  When the bath was over Nikolas brought Durst some clothes to wear. “What is this?” Durst asked. He stared at the garment.

  “It’s called a toga,” Nikolas replied. “Get used to it. It’s what you’ll be wearing from now on.”

  “No breeches?” Durst asked. He pulled the low end of the toga down to cover his thighs.

  “If it gets cold will give you some leggings,” Nikolas said. Put these on. Nikolas set a pair of boots in front of durst. The brown and white spots of a cow could barely be seen on the skin of the boot. The insides of the boots were soft. Durst took a few steps. The boots cradled his feet. He felt strong. Like his legs were two tree trunks.

  Zahide threw a cape around his shoulders and cut Durst’s long hair until a pile of soaked blond curls lay on the floor.

  “You look like a young Roman now,” Nikolas smiled and nodded. “Architectus will be pleased.”

  They left the bath house. A line of Romans formed outside. They walked past the fountain where people drew water. Nikolas, Durst, and Zahide returned to the building where they’d come from. This time it was different. They entered through the front doors. Architectus sat at a table. He waved to a woman standing behind a counter. Nikolas, Durst, and Zahide sat at the table. People brought plates covered in shining metal to the table. Steam rose to the ceiling as the covers were removed.

  “Eat well,” Architectus said to everyone at the table. “It may be a while before we get a decent meal.”

  Durst was hungry. He ate two helpings of roasted chicken on a bed of asparagus and onions. He tried to wash the food down with the watered down red wine but the sweet taste of the wine made him wince.

  Durst finished eating. He was about to wipe his hands on the thing he wore. The thing called a toga. Nikolas reached over and held onto Durst’s wrist. “Use the water bowl in the middle of the table.”

  “That’s not to drink?” Durst asked.

  “No,” Nikolas shook his head. “You wash your hands in it.”

  Durst looked at the bowl. He reached for it.

  “Use the sponge,” Nikolas said. When he saw the puzzled look on Durst’s face he added, “Unwrap the hand cloth on the table in front of your place.”

  Durst obeyed. He saw the sponge. The rest he could figure out from the bath. He scrubbed his hands in the bowl. He squeezed the sponge dry then wiped his hands on the cloth.

  One of the workers who’d brought the food came over and removed the water bowl. The worker returned with a fresh bowl filled with water.

  “What is this place?” Durst asked. He was clean and fed and wearing crisp new clothes. He felt a stir of confidence. Enough to ask the question.

  Nikolas shot Durst a look and raised his finger to his lips.

  “The boy deserves to know,” Architectus said. “We are in Londinium and this is an inn.”

  “I’ve heard the name ...” Durst paused for few moments then repeated, “Londinium.”

  When the morning meal was finished Architectus laid some silver coins on the counter.

  “What do you call this?” Durst asked as they stepped outside. He stomped on the stone path.

  “It’s a cobblestone road,” Architectus said. “In time they will span the countryside.”

  They continued until coming to a river. Small boats lay alongside docks built out from the edge of the road. As they walked the meandering bank the river grew wider and the ships became bigger. Where the river emptied into the sea ships bigger than any Durst had ever seen moved in and out of the mouth of the river.

  Architectus hailed a man ferrying passengers to and from the ships laying at anchor. The passengers climbed in and Architectus gave the man a couple pieces of copper.

  Architectus said, “The Iona.” The oarsman turned the bow away from the shore and rowed out into the harbor. He came alongside one of the big ships.

  “Iona,” Durst said.

  “Yes,” Architectus nodded. “The Iona is 75 feet long. It has a length to breadth ratio of three to one and a double planked hull and built in ballast compartments.”

  After the first few words everything else Architectus said was lost on Durst.

  “Has the cargo been loaded, captain?” Architectus asked a man standing on deck.

  “Yes,” the man known as captain answered.

  “Are my cabins ready?”

  “The cabins are ready.”

  Architectus took the big cabin at the stern. Nikolas and Durst took the small cabin below the deck. Once they were settled into their cabins Durst went on deck to join Architectus.

  Men pulled on a wooden wheel. A chain rattled and rose off of the sea floor. The wheel stopped when the anchor thudded against the side of the hull. One of the crewmen leaned over the rail and set the anchor in place.

  Oarsmen sat on long rows of benches spanning the ship. A drummer at the stern pounded a slow beat. The oarsmen pulled hard. The ship inched forward then picked up speed. Men on deck lowered a square sail. The striped sail billowed as it caught the slight breeze.

  Durst stood on the stern with Architectus and the captain. The captain kept the sun overhead. Durst looked back at the land falling behind the wake of the ship. Every moment the rowers and the wind pushed the ship farther and farther from his home. Durst brushed away a tear as he saw visions of his murdered mother. Would he ever see his father again?

  It was late in the afternoon when a man standing atop the mast shouted, “Land!”

  “Gaul,” the captain nodded. “When we’re close enough we’ll head south and follow the coast.”

  “What’s are next stop?” Architectus asked.

  “The port of Lisbon in Hispania.”

  “How long until we reach it?”

  “The answer to that question is not always the same,” the captain shrugged. “With a fair wind at our backs and clear skies it will be a couple of days. If we have no wind or winds strong enough to blow the ship off course it may be seven days or more.”

  “I see,” Architectus said.

  That night after a meal of dried fish and a bitter tasting fruit Nikolas called lemons Durst lay on his mat. He wondered where Zahide was. He drifted off to sleep and was woken by the sound of the ship creaking. The creaking didn’t match the steady lapping of the sea against the hull or the slapping of the blades against the water. The creaking grew faster. He heard moaning. It was at that moment he realized in which cabin Zahide slept.

  Thirteen

  What Traders Wear

  KERMODE DREW THE arrow back to his eye. He peered down the shaft as the tip of the arrow met the belly of the bow. The deer turned its head. Leaves rustled on the trees as a breeze blew by. Kermode released. The arrow flew and struck the
deer behind the shoulder. The deer bucked wildly then staggered then stumbled to the forest floor.

  “Good one,” Kane said as he stepped out from behind a tree. “We eat fresh meat tonight.” He removed a short skinning knife from his belt. The deer threw its head back and grunted as it breathed its last breath.

  Kermode leaned the bow against a tree. He tied a rope to the base of the antlers. He threw the rope over the sturdy limb of a nearby oak tree. Together Kermode and Kane hoisted the carcass off the ground.

  Kane traced a circular cut around the deer’s neck. He worked down from the initial cut and pulled the hide away from the flesh.

  While Kane skinned the deer Kermode gather kindling and chopped thick branches with a hand ax. He used the blade to scrape away dried leaves then dig out a hole.

  As the sun sank Kermode and Kane sat by a roaring fire. Slabs of deer meat spun on spits fastened from branches. What the two men couldn’t eat at one time was impaled on a higher spit and slow smoked over the fire.

  “Do you think the Romans will come after us?” Kane asked.

  Kermode shook his head. “I say no. I don’t think the Romans will venture to far from what they consider to be a stronghold.” Kermode drew a rough map of the southern coastline of Briton with a branch. He jabbed the point of the branch into the dirt. “This is Londinium.” Kermode lifted the branch and traced a spiraling circle. “The Romans should stay within this circle.” Kermode paused then and said, “Unless ...”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless the bastards can buy off or use force to bend the inland tribes to their will.”

  “That is the future,” Kane shrugged. “We don’t know what it holds.”

  “Truth,” Kermode said. “Do you want to take the first watch, Kane?”

  “I took the first watch last night,” Kane reminded Kermode.

  “Fair enough.” Kermode stood. He wiped his hands on his robes then looked at his palms in the flickering firelight. The black woad dye still clung to his skin like the flesh of a skink. Most of the time the dye from the woad plant would wear off in skin in a few hours. Days had passed since he’d dyed his white robes. Kermode wondered if it would ever come off.