Duilleog (A New Druids Series Book 1)

by Donald D. Allan

  I watched, mildly amused, as Dempster quickly examined them for quality and tasted them. Satisfied, he exclaimed that they were up to my excellent standard. He looked over the herbs once more and then glanced sideways at me, seeming a little bit dejected. I smiled and then watched his face light up as I pulled out a small bundle of basil and marjoram and laid them next to the other herbs. He laughed, pounded me on the back, then rubbed his hands in anticipation and said he had a special recipe that could make good use of the basil and thanked me. He placed a finger beside his rather large nose and pondered me for a moment, then rummaged in his pantry and brought forth packages containing oats, corn meal, and a generous pound of salted pork. I was very pleased with the more than fair exchange.

  As I packed away the goods, Dempster surprised me by pulling out a small sachet of coarse salt that could only have come directly from the salt mines across the river outside the town of Finnow. I could see the special package markings from the Finnow Salt Guild as he pressed it into my hand. Dempster had once decided to painstakingly educate me in the markings of food guilds and Finnow was easily recognisable with the small minnow symbol. Finnow had a sense of humour, apparently.

  By its weight the pouch must contain about an ounce of salt. He smiled at me as I opened it to peer inside. I gasped when I saw the deep purple colour of the salt and identified it as Life salt. If it weren't for the hue, the unmistakable faint lavender smell would have confirmed what it was. Life salt was the most prized salt from the Finnow mines. It was rare and provided more flavour than ordinary salt. My mouth salivated at the smell and I thought about the amount of herbs I would need to gather to equal the cost of this ounce of salt: baskets and baskets of herbs. I couldn't believe he was giving me a whole ounce of Life salt – it was far too generous. I started to protest but the cook grabbed and closed up the pouch, stuffing the salt into my pack. He tapped the side of his nose with a finger, gave me a knowing wink and then mentioned that the Reeve had stopped by that morning and not to worry about it. All was square, he said.

  A bit dazed, I found myself being gently pushed out the door and outside with a large heel of white crusty bread thrust into one hand, the melting butter leaking between my fingers, and my backpack held against my chest with the other. I stopped and stood outside the kitchen door as it closed and took a large bite of the still warm bread. It was so delicious. I chewed and swallowed the bread as quickly as I could and felt each bite land in my empty stomach. I yelled a quick thanks to Dempster, laughed at his 'ya ya' response, and started toward my next stop. As I shouldered my backpack I groaned at the weight of it – it hadn't been this heavy for a long, long time. I felt giddy and rich.

  That salt was a wonder, though I couldn't help but question why the Reeve asked the cook to provide me with Life salt. I simply couldn't understand, but decided I wouldn't argue it. With that salt I could produce some amazing things. My mind clicked with possibilities. Recipes I had never tried before came to mind. I would need nightshade, I knew at once. With the salt I could extract a pure alkaloid essence. The process ran through my head without having to think about it. I could create a cure for the strongest poisons. A poison cure would help people so much! More recipes swam through my head as I made my way across the road and over to the common hall and my good friend, Daukyns.

  The common hall was not much more than a rectangular building with rows of simple benches that could hold maybe a quarter of the town inside. It was used by the town mayor to provide the town with important news and it was used to debate issues. More importantly, the town held celebrations in the common hall and outside in the spacious grounds that surrounded it. I always made a point of being here for the harvest time during Mabon and the harvest dance at Samhain. It was fun to sit back and watch people enjoying the bounty of nature and I felt more in common with them at that time than any other.

  As I expected, Daukyns was sitting in the shade outside the entrance to the common hall. The town allowed my friend to conduct his Word services in the building. In the back there was a small storage room that Daukyns was allowed to use as a home. And it served, more importantly, as a workshop for our joint efforts. He always seemed to be the happiest person in town, as far as I could tell. He spied me right away and stood and rushed over to me as I approached; his face flushed its usual red and with his arms out to embrace me.

  "Will!" he shouted, wrapping me up in his arms and squeezing the breath out of me. I muffled a hello into his chest and he finally released me. A few people walking nearby smiled as they passed. Our friendship was well known in town but what we produced, I think, was even more known and valued.

  "How have you been, Will? It's been a few weeks, has it not?" he bellowed as much as his aged, reedy voice would allow. He held me at arm's length and looked me up and down to see if I was still whole and hale. I gave him a once over at the same time.

  Daukyns was a strange looking fellow. He always wore the same light brown robes that dragged on the ground and with sleeves that were hemmed far too long for his arms covering his hands more often than naught, meaning that he always had to hold his arms slightly raised so he could push the sleeves up to free his hands. His hair was bright white and gleamed in the sun except for the startling large bald spot on top. This bare dome of skin was always burnt to a deep red by the sun and many people in the town had said that his brains were baked as a result. He was not a young man – most would consider him elderly. His eyes and mouth were heavily creased and wrinkled but his laugh lines were the more predominant.

  He sported an overly large and bulbous nose that was as deep a red as his scalp often was. He was known for fondness for wine and always found a way for the town people to keep him well supplied. The front of his robe certainly had seen its share of spilled wine and the purple stain seemed almost an intentional part of the design.

  I couldn't help but notice how tired my friend seemed, and more so than usual. Dark circles hung under his eyes and his left hand trembled with a shake that seemed worse than normal. My friend was not as well as I would like and I feared age was catching up with him. I doubted he was taking the herbs I had provided him with. Knowing Daukyns, he had probably given them away to someone he felt more deserving. I would have to talk to him again about that and dreaded the conversation. The last time had frustrated me to no end. I turned these troubling thoughts aside and forced myself to smile up at Daukyns.

  "I've been well, sir. I found a good supply this time out. Better than usual. The sun and weather seem perfect."

  Daukyns laughed. "Good, good! Come on inside. Let me see. You look well but tired, Will. Come."

  With that Daukyns brought me inside the common hall and we walked to the back room where he slept. I glanced at him as we walked, noting the irony of his last statement. He was the one that looked like he hadn't slept in days. We entered the small room and I paused to admire the supplies we used for our joint venture. Our materials were all neatly laid out on the small table pushed up against the wall nearest the door. It was covered with small clay jars, beeswax, clay tubs of lard, a stone and a wooden mortar and pestle, a sharp knife, a jar of expensive pressed and filtered olive oil and a series of small copper pots suspended over unlit candle burners.

  I surveyed the table quickly with a knowing eye, looking for anything amiss, but everything seemed in order. Daukyns had restocked the jars and consumables and it all looked satisfactory. There was enough here now to make full use of my herbs. Little would remain afterwards but once I was finished I would be able to purchase more supplies for my next visit. Satisfied, I dropped my backpack to the floor next to Daukyns' cot, and started pulling out my special herbs and stacking them on the table. These bundles were wrapped with the fronds of the catkins. I had found that only catkins would stay neutral with the herbs they touched and not diminish the potency I had imbued in the bundles. I carefully placed the herbs on the table and Daukyns moved over to examine them. I wasn't worried what he would think: these herbs would stay
fresh for weeks – my cultivation technique assured that. Daukyns watched closely, gasping as each bundle was brought forth and lovingly laid down on the table.

  "So much this time, young man!" he said as I laid the last bundle down on the table. "Is that what I think it is?"

  He pointed at the poppy flowers. I nodded, secretly pleased that he noted my special find; I knew he would. They were a spectacular find. I had the location memorised and would return to harvest the site as often as I could. The poppy, I knew instinctively once I had found them and examined them, would produce one of the single most powerful pain reducing unguents I could create. Daukyns and I had discussed their potential the last time I passed through after he had heard some merchants speaking of it down at the pier. My latest outing was to specifically locate the flower. Daukyns had pointed me in a likely direction to look and, surprisingly, he had been right.

  He had knowledge of plants that I could only dream of attaining. But together we made quite the team. It was through my friendship with Daukyns that I had been able to fully grasp my talents and make good use of them. He was a mentor and more importantly, my friend. But on this last venture he had steered me unerringly to where I would likely find a source for the flower. I watched as Daukyns picked up the poppies and examined and smelled them eagerly.

  "They were right where you thought they might be, sir. You will need to tell me who your source was! He was so exact on the location. I mean, I pretty much just walked straight to them. How did he know that a battle had been fought there?" I said. "The evidence was everywhere, I mean, everywhere I looked! I..." I stopped when I noticed that Daukyns' face had darkened and he looked away. "What is it? What did I say?"

  "Nothing, it's not you, my boy. The source for the poppy location was from Bill Burstone. He used it to treat the pain of his burn scars. He created some kind of pain reliever. But that's not what bothers me. Something terrible has happened to him and I am sorry to say that he was murdered – murdered! – just last night and right in his own home. Horrible, horrible business." Daukyns tutted and ran a hand over his bald pate. He reached out with his other hand and ran it over his copy of the Word lying on the table. "Killed over gold, they are saying. Gold of all things." He shook his head and moved to the doorway and peered out into the empty common room.

  I stood frozen in thought at the words of my friend. I gripped the table to steady myself and tried not to think about what Daukyns was saying. He carried on talking not noticing that I was quiet.

  "The town was in quite the state last night until the Reeve dragged the murderer's corpse back just after midnight, at least according to the guards I've spoken to. All morning I have been trying to reach out to the humanity in people – bolster their courage with the Word! It was hot work and I've only just returned. You know, to get my strength back up. You'll hear about it all soon enough, Will. Everyone in the market has been gossiping about it. Can't get them to shut up, really. Oh, and the captain has locked up Bill's home and posted a guard..."

  His voice trailed off as he turned away from the doorway to face me and realised I was staring at him with tears once again starting to slide unwelcome down my cheeks. I convinced myself that I had nothing to do with what happened last night – that I had just been an innocent bystander at the wrong place at the wrong time – but now? The events had come full circle and were entwined in my life: Bill Burstone had been the source of the poppies. The poppies I had gone out to find because of him and then I came face–to–face with his murderer and watched that man die. My peace was shattered.

  "What is it, my boy? Your face just went as white as a spirit! Sit, sit!" and he steered me to his cot. Once I sat he fetched me a cup of water from the bucket by his door, sloshing the contents in his haste. I took the cup and sipped the warm water as Daukyns continued to question me. I just needed a moment to centre myself.

  "What happened, Will? What do you know about this?" he asked. Slowly at first, and then in a flood, I told him what had happened last night. I surprised myself by leaving out the part where I found the coin in the toe of the boot. I summoned the courage to speak of it when Daukyns distracted me.

  Daukyns had been looking down at my boots. "So these are his boots? Lord Protector, have mercy!" He sat next to me, wrapping an arm about my shoulder and squeezing me against him. "What a horrible thing to witness, Will. And to think what must've been going through your mind when he held you with that knife, your very own knife, right to your throat!"

  I looked around the small room that served as my personal apothecary as Daukyns continued to spout disbelief. Somehow, opening up to Daukyns had improved my mood and feelings about the whole event. The bundles of herbs lay quietly on the table looking as fresh as when I had harvested them. I never let them lay around too long, less someone notice their durability and start questioning me about it. Daukyns had noticed their long life a while ago but I felt he deemed it better to leave it unspoken. I found I couldn't sit here any longer with my work beckoning me and so I struggled to my feet and handed the empty cup to Daukyns, commenting that he needed a fresh bucket of water. Daukyns ignored me and kept up his vitriol, now speaking in anger, questioning the sanity of the Reeve and how he could just leave me out there after all that had happened. I smiled and picked up the first bundle and started to untie the catkins that held it together.

  "Well, I am fine now. Speaking of the Reeve, he wants me to see him today and talk to Captain Gendred so I best get started with this while the herbs are still fresh."

  Daukyns stopped his rant and sat quietly behind me for a spell and then stood up and patted my back as we moved to the door. "Very well, my boy. Very well. I'll leave you to your work." Daukyns stopped in the door. "We'll talk about this later, Will. You need to get this all out. Things like that affect you in small ways you wouldn't expect. Trust me, I saw so much of that during the war. You can't keep it locked up inside."

  Daukyns grew quiet for a moment as if considering telling me something more and I waited, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. When he said nothing further I turned my attention back to the herbs. He watched me for a spell as I sorted out the herbs and then quietly he left and closed the door behind him.

  No sooner had he left than I reached into my tunic and pulled out the small pouch, opened it and emptied the contents into my palm. The coin hit my palm first, followed right behind by my small sickle, which landed on the coin with a soft clink. The sickle was made from a black glass that seemed to gleam with an internal light. It was comprised completely out of a singular piece of glass – with a blade only two inches in diameter. The blade was sharper than anything I had ever seen and I had never been required to sharpen or hone it. It was also unbreakable, stronger than iron and harder than rock.

  The sickle had always been with me. It was given to me by my mother, of that I was sure, although I no longer had any memory of the exchange. I knew somehow that she taught me how to use it and how to hide it. It had been hers and she had entrusted it to me when all the bad things happened – so very long ago that I was no longer sure what I remembered correctly anymore. My mother's face was long forgotten in my mind – I only remembered the look of her closed eyes. I would sometimes see other women and wonder if they looked like my mother once did. That saddened me. My only memory of my father came down to one: I remembered his back as he walked down the tunnel away from me and my mother and back into the burning city. His last words to us were to follow the tunnel out to the sea and not look back. But I did. Once outside I saw the entire city in flames above the cliffs. I was six years old at the time. That was ten years ago.

  I turned the sickle over in my hand. It was such a comfort to me. It fit my hand like no other instrument. It was small but more than adequate. Once I had cut myself with the blade. It had bit deep into my fingers and I felt it scrape across the bone. Shocked, I stuck the finger in my mouth and expected it to fill with the hot taste of my blood. When all I tasted were the herbs that stained my skin, I drew my fing
er out and examined it in awe. Not a single mark showed to indicate that the blade had cut through my flesh and touched the bone. My finger was untouched: whole and unblemished. That was a true moment of wonder to me.

  Later, I experimented with the blade and tried to cut myself. I tried to nick my finger and when the blood immediately welled from the small cut I was stunned and I wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

  Much later I had been harvesting a large amount of sweet mint and a wild dog barked in the woods nearby, startling me and a nye of pheasants. The sickle slipped and again I felt it pass through my flesh. This time it ran across a good portion of my left wrist. I cried out and dropped the sickle to grasp my wrist. I waited to see blood well through my fingers and when none appeared I let go and held up my arm and spied not a single mark on my wrist. The feeling and pain of the cut remained though, and ran down my arm in waves until it finally faded away. I stared at that wrist forever until I decided that it was best left as a mystery. Nonetheless, I was very careful with the blade after that.

  I always kept it hidden. It meant everything to me. It linked me to my mother and brought back the feeling of being loved. I also felt more in commune with nature when I held and used it. During these moments the world would fade away and all that would remain were the plants and their nature. Always my mother was foremost in my thoughts and during these times I missed her the most and oddly, felt closer to her.