For a long time he sat, in deep thought. Should he creep away? Was it a large or small animal? Would there be others coming back? If there were, he would meet them on open ground. The Gods forbid! He must think, like he had never thought before. At this point, as with all boys in difficult situations, his stomach rumbled and made a protest for food. Since he was going to die, he decided he might as well eat some of his precious remaining food. He took the pouch from his belt, removed the linen cloth and opened it. Inside was cheese and bread. As he ate, he thought. He looked down at the cloth and reached for more food.
He cursed slowly and deliberately, “bloody fool!” he said in a harsh whisper. There before him lay his iron and flint… fire. It was the one element all animals feared. It would protect him. He looked around for wood. Oh, what a fool he was! On a mountain this high up there wasn’t any wood. Had the cold air frozen his mind? Think you idiot. Think! No wood, but plenty of long high grass. Make a torch. Make it big. As he worked, his thinking became clearer. No animal makes a sound whilst his or her mother is there. They must be alone, surely. Should he look? He gathered up his courage. He would see. He worked his way down and found the entrance to the den under a rock. He lit the torch and pushed it inside. His heart fell. Inside, in the semi-darkness, lay the body of a she-wolf. Beside her were four cubs, all of them dead. On top of the dead mother was another of the wolf cubs. He was almost dead, but still alive. The cub was making a low, whimpering sound. He reached in and grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and gently brought it out. He took some bread, soaked it with water and fed it. Afterwards he placed it inside his woollen tunic and made his way home.
He arrived a day late, hungry and exhausted. The reception he encountered on his return was twofold. From his uncle he received only anger, because of his lateness; his mother showed only pure relief at his return. The cub was the cause of more trouble, when they learnt that it was the reason for his delay and that the puppy had been given most of his food on his return journey. Nobody spoke for days, but the child, for whom he had collected the orchid roots, recovered. This gained him grudging respect within the clan.
His uncle, when he spoke to him, had nothing but harsh words.
“No animal is worth the life of a man. Not even your worthless life, or the life of a child.” And then it was: “Don’t you realise, idiot, that a wild animal can’t be kept or tamed. What good or use is it?”
The boy stood there in silence. He had no answers. He knew that his uncle was right, but his heart told him that he felt for this animal. Something, but what was it? Was it that the cub had been helpless and he had felt pity for him, or was it a gift to him from the Gods? And he reflected: was not the wolf cub just like him? An outsider. Disliked by all and feared because it was different. For that reason alone he would keep him and look after him. Yet he had so many questions. Could a wolf be tamed? Could he be trained? Would the wolf accept him as his master or would it someday turn and kill him? Would it run away when it was fully grown? He must find answers, but who would have them?
Over time, he learnt from the travellers and traders that passed through the village of a strange man in the mountains, who they said lived alone. Rumours circulated that he knew more about animals than anyone, and that he could, it was said, enter the minds of wild beasts. They also said that he preferred animals to people and did not take kindly to strangers. They warned him that he was, apparently, extremely bad tempered. After much thought, Inaki decided that he would seek him out after the snows had cleared.
The cub grew. It was now six moons since he had found him. It was completely black; so black, that in strong sunlight, his fur looked as if it had a depth of blue colour in it. The eyes were yellow, the head large. It was almost up to the middle of a man’s thigh in height and with a mouth of interlocking white teeth. His most disconcerting trait was to stare at anyone who approached, his head lowered and body erect, as if he was about to pounce. He was feared by everyone except the boy, whose side he never left. No one dared go near the animal. No more the curses or stones from the other boys; no words of anger were spoken in the wolf-dog’s presence. He was his master’s protector. He slept at his side at night and walked at his side by day.
If voices were raised, the wolf-dog’s lips would curl back over those fearsome teeth and a deep long growl would rise from his throat, full of menace and warning, silencing them all. All at once life was sweet and all gave way to them, be it man or beast. For the first time in his life, he had power and he liked the feel of it. It felt natural to him as if it was in his blood.
At springtime, Inaki spoke to his mother. “There is a man that I have to see, Mother.”
“Who might that be, my son?” his mother asked.
“I do not know his name, but he knows about animals.” His mother thought and then spoke softly to him.
“There are many here that are wise and know animals. Arturo the hunter for one, and then there is your uncle who not only heals people but animals too.”
“Yes, Mother,” said the boy, “but they don’t understand my animal. It is to him that I must go and learn about wolves and dogs.”
“I see,” said his mother with a smile on her face, “and where is this unique man?”
“About fourteen days south from here, up in the mountains,” said the boy.
“For a journey like that you will need boots, food for two and a warm cloak, none of which I can provide you with. How will you get them? You have nothing to trade for them.”
Inaki thought desperately hard.
“I will work for what I need. We can get work guarding sheep,” Inaki said, looking down at the wolf-dog.
“Very well,” said the mother, “when you have your boots and cloak, I for my part will provide the food, and then we will talk again.”
As the boy walked away his mother looked at him. How quickly time had passed. Soon he would be a man and she would lose him. She shuddered a little at the thought.
Chapter Two
The Gathering Storm
By midsummer, Inaki had his boots and cloak and left the village to look for the animal man. He travelled into the high mountains for four days. Then on the sixth day he reached the crest of the first range of mountains. Before him he saw two further ranges. Between each range were deep-wooded misty valleys and beyond the second range, somewhere there he should find the man he sought. The work had gone well. There had been no shortage of folk who had wanted the services of his wolf-dog. On his feet was a fine pair of deer skin boots; about his shoulders a heavy woollen cloak that his mother had traded for and in his belt a fine long knife of iron and the two-headed axe. He had done well, but it had taken longer than he bargained for.
On the tenth day, in a high valley, between two great mountains he found a hut of stone. Outside and on the slopes some sheep and goats grazed. As he approached, two enormous dogs came barking towards him. He stopped, sat down and waited. The dogs rushed towards him. He made the wolf-dog sit. The dogs came on. The wolf-dog soon flattened himself on the ground with head forward and eyes fixed firmly on the approaching dogs. His whole body coiled, ready to attack.
“Steady, stay!” whispered, Inaki.
The wolf-dog relaxed at his master’s voice and his head rested between his paws.
At four paces from him, the dogs stopped but were still barking. Then they began growling and showing their teeth. Inaki could see that they weren’t at all friendly. They were a fearsome sight and both boy and wolf-dog remained very still so as not to antagonise them further. For some time the situation remained the same. Eventually the dogs stopped barking and growling and just sat watching him. If he made to move they growled and stood up. This situation seemed unresolvable and remained the same for what seemed like an age.
In essence, the time that had passed was shorter than he thought. It just felt longer. Suddenly the wolf-dog stood up and rapidly turned round growling. The boy looked behind him. There, some twenty paces away, st
ood a mountain of a man. He gave a long, low whistle and the two dogs ran to his side and sat. He gave the boy a long, hard and unpleasant look. His azure eyes were as cold as the pebbles in a mountain stream and his piercing gaze seemed to go through Inaki to his very bones.
Then he spoke, “What are you doing here?” There was no sound of welcome in the voice.
It took Inaki a while to compose himself. Then he said. “I’ve come to see you, if you are who I think you are.”
“I am known as Aguirre Aguirre. Am I the one you seek?” said the man.
“Yes. They say you know about animals and dogs in particular.” Inaki said.
“Come to my hut!” the man said sharply.
The boy did not move.
“Are you afraid?” the man said roughly.
“No.” He paused. “Not for me, but I fear for your dogs.”
The man laughed hard with mockery in his voice.
“They’re bitches. Your animal is a dog. No dog will ever attack a bitch. Bitches rule in the world of the dog and the wolf. No harm will befall them. It is your animal that may not escape injury from them. I can see you have a lot to learn.”
The man turned and walked towards the hut with Inaki following meekly. As he entered the hut he could smell food and he realised for the first time how hungry he was. The man went to an iron pot by the fire, took a wooden bowl and poured out the largest portion of lamb stew he had ever seen. He gave it to the boy and then served himself.
“What are you called?” the man asked.
“Inaki of the iron people.”
“You’re a long way from home for a boy your age,” said Aguirre.
“Yes, but I had to come,” the boy said in a low voice.
“How did you come by that dog?” the man said.
“He’s no dog, but a wolf.”
“You’re only partly right, his mother might have been a wolf, but his father was a dog. That’s why he stays with you, for now.”
The boy’s heart sank. “You mean he will leave me.”
“Could happen at any time,” the man said. “That’s why I don’t keep them. You can’t rely on them. They can turn at any time and are highly dangerous. No good to me. How long have you had him?”
“A summer and a winter,” the boy said in a low voice.
“If he is going to leave you, it will be this winter. If he stays after that he may stay forever, but you never know with these animals. The call of the wild can be too strong for them to resist. What do you want him for anyway?”
The boy thought for a moment, and then spoke slowly and quietly with emotion.
“He is the only friend that I have in the world.”
Aguirre looked at the boy for a long time in silence. He felt for him. He looked hard at the emerald green eyes, full of tears, and saw the iron will and control that the boy was exercising over his emotions. He took in the boy’s bearing. He looked at his clothes and the way his cloak was pulled back over the strong, young shoulders. He had shown no fear of his dogs. He contemplated and made his assessment. The boy was intelligent and sensitive. His young body showed strength and determination. He spoke softly.
“The Gods have many needs and so do men.”
The words cut through the boy like a sharp knife. Inaki was stunned. They were the words that every Basque uses at the beginning of negotiations. He hesitated before he made the proper response.
“Yes, but of all the Gods, the Earth and Moon Goddesses are the greatest.” He continued: “For me I ask nothing, for my wolf-dog I ask your help.”
“So be it,” Aguirre said. “If he is to live amongst men then he must find his place and have work to do, for no man or animal can be idle or without purpose. Now tell me exactly how you came by him, and leave not the smallest detail out, for I will tell you the importance of your words when you have finished.”
When the boy had finished his tale, having been questioned by Aguirre very expertly over every detail, he sat and waited while the big man pondered. After a while Aguirre began, sometimes pausing and choosing his words carefully.
“As I said, this is a wild animal and he will be unpredictable, so his training will have to be given with great care. I must train you first before we start. You cannot afford to make any mistakes or all will be lost. Are you prepared to follow my instructions without complaint or contradiction?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because if you don’t I will tell you to go.”
The boy thought for a moment, and said:
“I will obey.”
“Now we will agree a price for my tutoring. You will work for me for twelve lunar months.”
The boy’s mouth fell open so wide that he almost dislocated his jaw. He quickly composed himself and sat up straight on his three-legged stool and replied:
“I hope you’re worth it.”
Aguirre chuckled to himself. The boy has spirit, he thought to himself.
“Now,” Aguirre said, “let us talk about this wolf-dog.”
As he said this he reached down towards one of the animal’s paws. Without a sound, the wolf-dog sprang to his feet and went straight for the man’s throat. Aguirre fell back off his stool and onto the floor.
The boy put a hand on the animal’s great head and said softly, “Be still now.”
The animal went down at his feet, the great head resting between his paws.
“Touchy bastard isn’t he?” Aguirre said.
“He will let no other touch him.” The boy spoke the words as a simple statement of fact.
Aguirre picked himself up from the floor with all the dignity he could muster, set the stool straight a little further from the wolf-dog and tried to compose himself and began.
“It is my opinion,” he said in a solemn voice, “that a dog fathered your animal. From what you have told me I think it happened like this.”
He went on to explain that wolves lived in packs led by the dominant female. When she came into season she would mate the male in the pack who was in the best condition and who was the strongest; thereby ensuring that her young cubs would inherit the strength, stamina and speed of the mate. Wolf packs, therefore, were made of extended family members. Uncles and aunts and the young of the dominant pair were not allowed to breed.
In this way the wolf pack makes sure that only the fittest are allowed to breed. As the cubs grow older and reach breeding condition, both the dominant male and female will drive away any wolf that challenges them and will not submit until one day they become too old or infirmed. At that point a younger, fitter, female or male will win the contest and drive the older wolf out. In this way, the integrity and health of the pack is maintained.
It was Aguirre’s opinion that the dead wolf that the boy had found was a female that had been driven out of her pack by her mother. It had happened when she had reached maturity and breeding condition and had unsuccessfully made a challenge for the pack. She had not judged the right time to make her challenge. She had wondered about in heat and by chance, had bred with a dog. This was rare but not unknown since wolves and dogs were closely related. However, cubs from crossbreeding seldom survived. In the wild the wolf pack members would bring food to the female and her cubs. The dog would not have stayed. He would have returned to his master and the she-wolf would have been left to starve with her cubs.
He had found the cub in the nick of time, and it was by the will of the Gods that the cub had survived at all. What the Gods intended for him and the cub, only time would tell. The Gods were cruel and unpredictable like the wolf-dog. They would have some purpose, which would be made known to Inaki in time. That it would involve great danger, of that he had no doubt. That made the training that he would give of the greatest importance, since it could mean their survival or death.
“What do you call this animal?” Aguirre asked.
“Eramaitza,” Inaki replied in Basque.
Aguirre began to chuckle. This grew into
an uncontrollable fit of laughter until for the second time he fell off the stool and onto the floor.
“Eramaitza,” he said, laughing so uncontrollably that he held his sides in pain.
“Eramaitza,” he said again and howled with laughter. The wolf-dog stood up and turned his head to one side inquiringly. He looked at the man as if he had gone completely mad. Aguirre lay on the floor completely out of control. How apt, he thought, what every Basque fears most. The eramaitza (storm) that comes so suddenly with no warning and takes all before it. It was the Basque word for that phenomenon of nature, which only the people of the mountains knew. ‘Mountain Storm,’ he had called the wolf-dog. What an understatement. The eramaitza was howling winds, torrential rain and lightning all rolled into one. It was the expression of the Gods in full, unrelenting anger. It washed away mountainsides, homes, cattle and sheep without mercy. It was 10,000 diablos let loose on an unsuspecting world. It fitted the animal perfectly. Inaki and Storm would come down from the mountains in the inky darkness and fall on their enemies. Storm, ninety pounds of solid muscle and bone, would rip open throats with his fifty-four razor sharp teeth. The thought struck Aguirre like iced water. A chill ran up this spine and brought him abruptly to his senses. What in the name of all the Gods had he let himself in for?
He stood up and in a cold matter-of-fact voice he said: “We must rest. We have a hard day ahead of us. Take two sheepskins and sleep by the fire.”
The boy said nothing; it was not the right time for words. He took the skins and made his bed.
“Gabon,” said Aguirre.
“Gabon,” replied the boy. (It was Basque for, ‘goodnight’.)
Storm, turned around three times at his master’s feet and lay down. He put his thick tail under his long black nose and settled down to sleep.
The Moon Worshippers Page 2