“What say you, stranger? They’re your sheep. How would you like to double your flock and your profit?”
All heads turned towards Aguirre and the boy. Aguirre looked the man straight in the eyes. Choosing his words carefully, he replied.
“I know of no man that does not like a profit, but first I must consider the risk.”
He paused and continued: “If I agree, I would like to make a number of suggestions to you, and your brothers.”
He had measured the man carefully and had decided that diplomacy was the best way to achieve what he wanted.
“If your requests are reasonable, I’m sure we can come to an understanding,” the elder said.
“First I need four men including myself, the boy and his dog and two others, and I will only take part of my flock.”
“What good are the boy and his dog?” replied Anton.
“You don’t want to know,” replied Aguirre with a small, but cunning smile.
“Agreed,” the elder said, not wishing to prolong negotiations or anger Aguirre.
“Second, you will lead,” Aguirre said, looking Anton squarely in the eyes.
“Choose your men, we march at dusk,” Anton replied abruptly. “One thing further,” he said turning on his heels, “we carry no weapons that can be seen. No shields or spears. Axes and knifes can be hidden and will be hidden. Each man takes a bag full of arrows heads and bow strings. We will make bows and arrows when the time comes,” and he added, “we leave our dead.”
With this he left. At dusk, twenty-two men left the village. About their bodies were hidden bows strings, arrow heads, knives and throwing axes. The flock, three men and the boy followed the valley towards Socueva. The others split into two groups and made for the mountains. They carried food for two weeks, and were in high spirits. Aguirre had chosen two brothers to accompany him and the boy. They moved quickly and quietly through the deeply wooded valley, a stream running on their left. On the first night they camped and cut four staffs from a yew tree. These would be made into bows later on. Afterwards they washed their axes carefully, for every part of the yew is deadly poisonous. Inaki gathered some bark and leaves, together with poisonous herbs, to make poison for the arrows. After travelling for four days and nights they were close to Socueva.
Perched on a ledge on a mountainside, the town looked a formidable sight, with its high walls and towers. Inaki had never seen a town before and the sight filled him with awe. On the plain below, Aguirre left the brothers and the boy to guard the sheep. He left with his two dogs and a few sheep and went into the town, leaving strict instructions that if he was not back in a day they were to move on to the meeting place. It was market day and the town was alive with gossip. A large body of Moors had moved up to the Asturian and Visigoth border. Sheep and cattle had been moved inland and bands of fighting men had moved to meet the threat.
The Gods are with us, Aguirre thought, our greatest worry was to cause interest, but with so much movement we are just part of the general crowd. What good fortune! He made subtle enquiries about Morjinar. The place was overrun with sheep, he was told, and all coming this way. That night Aguirre returned to his small group. He had sold his small flock. Next day they would leave Socueva, and move in all haste to Morjinar and the meeting place. After two days and nights they arrived. He sent Inaki forward with Storm. The wolf-dog would warn the boy before any harm could befall him from the sentries. Having located the Basques, Inaki led his friends to them. That night they made their plans after carefully locating the sheep.
Most of the sheep were moved into the town at night, but there was so many of them that a large flock was left outside the walls under heavy guard. At dusk they would attack, driving off as many as they could and killing all the guards on the north side. A small number of their group would move ahead of the flock clearing the way and finding a suitable place for ambush. Aguirre, Inaki, the dogs and the two brothers would keep the flock on the move. The main group would fight a rearguard action, to slow down any pursuers, until they found a suitable place to set an ambush. They sharpened axes and knives, ate a cold meal and waited. At dusk Anton with ten men moved forward down the mountain. The others followed at a safe distance.
The guards had their backs to the oncoming onslaught. Watching the sheep, they had no idea of what hit them. Four fell at ten paces with axes in their backs. The others fled. The dogs were sent in splitting the sheep in two. Storm, ignoring the sheep, jumped on the back of the slowest man, knocking him to the ground, then turning he ripped out the back of the man’s neck. Inaki called him back and ran behind the sheep. Over the brow of the hill they went up the mountainside, passing the main body of Basques, axes poised in hands. The guards, thinking that the intruders had taken flight, regrouped and gave chase. As they came over the brow of the hill a hail of axes and stones hit them, followed by the Basques, their favourite long knives in hand. The fighting was short and furious. All the Visigoths lay dead or dying. The Basques had lost one man, killed by a well-aimed spear. As they ran, they fell into formation. A small band of Basques at the front; Inaki, Aguirre, the dogs and sheep in the middle, with the main body behind. By dawn they were well into the mountains, but they did not rest. They kept moving.
At dawn the next day, a group of twenty mounted Visigoths and eighty on foot gave chase. The mounted men reached the Basques within two days. Their main force was a three days’ march behind. Anton had placed one of his men behind them to give warning of any followers. This young Basque warrior saw the horsemen coming from a distance and quickly came back to give the alarm. This gave Anton time to prepare for their arrival. He chose a narrow gully with a steep hillside at one end. He made the men dig several holes in the ground which were as deep as the length of a man’s leg and as wide as an arms length. When they had been dug he got the men to cover them with sticks and grass. He hid a few men near the holes, which were covered with grass. He then placed the main body of his men on the side of the hill, hidden behind brushes and rocks. The flock was moved some distance away, at the far end of the gully and up a sloping mountainside, and in a direct line with the holes. He let the sheep graze on the mountainside, guarded by only Inaki, Aguirre and the dogs. When the Visigoths arrived and saw the sheep, lightly guarded, they charged without hesitation down the gully at full gallop towards them.
The first horse fell into one of the holes dug by the Basques, unseating his rider and breaking his leg. As they passed, the hidden Basques sprang out. Axes flew and the air was filled with a flurry of arrows. Six riders fell. The men on the hillside charged, yelling their war cries. Axes and arrows flew through the air again and more riders fell dead or wounded. Inaki, at the back of the sheep, watched terrified as four mounted men broke through and came charging towards him; spears lowered at the ready. Aguirre moved to his side. The riders were 500 paces from them and approaching fast.
“Remember what I’ve taught you. They are only targets not men. Take a deep breath and aim well. Take hold of your axe firmly and put your knife in your mouth.”
Aguirre and the boy stood in a line a few paces apart. The horsemen came on with spears lowered. At thirty paces Aguirre sent his dogs in. They came in from behind the horsemen and dismounted two. Storm sprang on a fallen man and ripped his throat out. The horsemen came on. The boy picked his target and threw his axe. The horseman lifted his shield and the axe head buried itself in it. Inaki instinctively threw himself to the ground. The horseman passed over him and turned his horse around and charged. Inaki stood, took his knife from his mouth and threw. In his haste his aim was low. The knife buried itself in the horse’s chest. The horse fell and the rider came over the top, breaking his neck as he hit the ground. The remaining horseman fled.
“Never seen that before,” Aguirre said slapping him on the back.
Inaki was violently sick. Storm approached his master, his mouth covered in blood. Inaki was sick again. Never in his life had he felt such fear or elation. It took a
long time before he could stop shaking and compose himself. He would never be the same again. He had killed a man.
As the rest of the Basques approached, Aguirre turned, raised his battle axe and said: “Every Basque has to perform an act of valour before he can be called a warrior. I call you all to witness that Inaki Etxebarria has performed just such an act and he is a slayer of our enemies. From hence forth he shall be called a warrior. Does anyone dispute the claim?”
The all Basques shouted “no” followed by a cheer.
“We must develop a better way to deal with cavalry,” Aguirre said to Anton.
“Agreed,” said Anton, “the Moorish cavalry are much better.”
“So are the Franks and they are coming our way. They would not have taken the bait so easily. They would have held their charge and waited for their foot soldiers, shadowing us until they arrived.”
“So you have heard the tun-tun drums as well?”
“Oh, yes. Now let us hurry back, Anton.”
Anton gave the order to kill the wounded and then he sent one of his young warriors off to Urigoiti, at a run, to tell them they were returning with the sheep. Anton needed men at the border, if they were to return safely home. They would not rest until they reached their homeland but their speed would depend on how quickly they could drive the sheep.
Chapter Five
The Return
They forced marched for four days before finally reaching the border. The young warrior had met with shepherds who had passed on the news of the raid that had been carried out by the men of Urigoiti. There at the border to greet them were 150 Basque warriors, cheering and waving their weapons. After a while, the pursuing Visigoths reached them, took one look at the Basque force and turned back. There followed several days of feasting and dancing. On the fourth day Inaki began to have disturbed nights. For a week he had a recurring dream. He could not remember it clearly, but he had woken repeatedly in a sweat for the last few nights. For the first time he did something that his uncle had not taught him. He went up into the wooded hills and gathered some mushrooms. He sat by a pool in the woods and ate them. He looked deeply into the pool.
For sometime nothing happened. Then the pool became darker and the light filtering through the trees changed into intense colours, brighter than anything he had ever seen. The waters of the pool suddenly cleared. The first thing he saw was the warrior he had killed. He came out of the cloudy pool, a white cloudy, misty image, with opened arms that passed over his head. The next image was more menacing. At first he could not make it out. Only the hands were clear, with long, thin fingers and curved sharp nails, clawing at his face. Then he saw the silver jewellery on the wrists: those silver bracelets of exquisite craftsmanship worn only by the Sisters of the Moon. It was an evil of a kind he had never experienced. He came round in a sweat. At the end of the week he told Aguirre that he had to return to his mother. Aguirre made no comment. He had noticed a change in the boy. He had a mysticism about him that he had only seen in the faces of deeply religious men or women. At fourteen he was now a man. The year was 772 AD.
It took Inaki a lunar month to return home. As he passed through the villages, he found them alive with rumours. The world around them was covered with dark and gathering clouds. To the west all the talk was of impending war. To the east the rumours of Charlemagne’s intention to invade remained uppermost in men’s minds. The clans of the Basque country remained peaceful and tranquil, but people were in a state of high alert and extremely vigilant. There was fear, also, of the unknown.
As he entered the small community of farms, people hardly recognised him. He had changed so much. If it had not been for Storm it would have been hard for them to recognise him at all. The man that entered their lives again, was a stranger. The change had been so marked. However, anyone that had ever known Storm never forgot him. His mother, seeing him at a distance, wondered for a moment and then ran to greet him. She hugged him. Then she looked deeply into his face. She saw his father there, and remembered the pain. How he had grown! Taking him by the hand she led him inside his uncle’s house, sat him down and put out some food.
She said: “Tell me everything.”
Between mouthfuls, he related all that had happened. When he talked of Storm his eyes glowed with pride. He passed lightly over the events of the raid and didn’t speak of the pool, not wanting to worry his mother. At that moment a form filled the doorway. Storm stood and growled.
“I see the monster’s back,” a voice said.
Inaki was not sure if his uncle was referring to him or Storm, or both.
“Where have you been for such a long time?” said the old man gruffly.
“Let him eat and rest, there will be plenty of time for questions later,” his mother said.
The old man turned sharply and left without another word. The authority of the mother was unquestionable in a Basque family. Although the men held the position of head of the house, it was the women who held the real power. In Basque society women played an important part in governing the family. Inaki inwardly smiled to himself. It was a little like the social order of wolves. The women were dominant. The two social systems were not dissimilar.
The Basques were an inter-related group of people from common ancestral stock. Each family formed part of a clan and while some lived in villages, many lived in solitary homes in the mountains. However, they shared a common name. Once a man or woman gave their name, a Basque knew immediately which village, area or clan that person belonged to. In most cases he or she would know personally some of its members. Inaki’s family name was, on his mother’s side, Etxebarria. This made him a Guipuzcoan, the largest of the seven Basque clans. In this way, Basques were bound one to another and shared commonly held rights and duties. Government was by assembly to which every man of fighting age had a right of membership. If a man did a wrong he would be judged by the assembly under the Sacred Oak tree, and if found guilty would pay compensation for his crime. Blood crimes were paid for with blood, but these were very rare amongst the Basques. In times of war, a chieftain would be elected with powers of life or death. Once the crisis was over he would revert to a common man, with the same rights and duties as the rest.
The union of the seven clans formed the Basque nation, and in times of war a council of seven chieftains led them. In their religion, every clan worshipped its own Gods, but they all shared a common central deity; the moon. To some the Basques were known as the Moon Worshippers. The sacred oak was their ancestral father. They were the children of the Gods, the First Race. Marriage was monogamous and the wedding ceremonies followed pagan marriage rites. At them a single male dancer would perform a tribute to the bride; acknowledging her position as the direct descendant of the Earth Mother and her unquestionable position at the centre of the family.
As the weeks grew into months, Inaki and his uncle formed a close bond for the first time. It was based on the further instruction that the uncle now began. He had recognised the potential of the boy at an early age, but had not found the means to motivate him. Now he found that the young man was more than willing to learn and he, for his part, changed his approach. He started by explaining the functions of a Nagusi.
“We are not born, we are chosen.” This he had said one day to Inaki.
“If we accept the calling, we take on the responsibility that comes with the great gifts that we are given. We have the power of life and death in our hands.”
He explained that the responsibilities of a Nagusi were essentially to heal and to find out the position of an enemy and to safeguard plants and animals.
“Because most men are ignorant, we have given the plants and animals divine status. There are reasons for this: first, because they are a gift from the Gods and carry the spirits of our ancestors, and secondly, to protect them through fear.”
“Is that honest and right?” Inaki asked. Like most young Basque men he had a deep sense of justice.
“Probably not, bu
t what is in this life?” said his uncle with a smile, “and it works,” he added.
To carry out his calling, his uncle explained, he would learn more about the efficacious and therapeutic properties of the plants that they collected and he must learn about the workings of men’s minds. It was not enough to cleanse the body; the mind had to be expunged as well. For if the spirit and the mind of a man could not be harnessed in the healing process, then he would not get well. What was more; the spirit could overcome what medicine could not. He had to know more about the two great religions that threatened their culture and their beliefs. These were Islam and the Holy Roman Church. For without this knowledge he would be powerless to refute their poisonous teachings.
“Always remember,” he had said to Inaki, in a very serious tone, “knowledge is power and ideas transform men.”
Inaki never forgot those words. They had the ring of truth. Over the months that followed Inaki received further instruction into the secret arts. He learnt of the plants that could heal and those that were deadly to man and animals. The antidotes were few. Inaki soon realised that man led a precarious existence in a hostile world to which his contribution was, in many cases, to make things worse. It seemed to him that man was his own worst enemy. Occasionally, Inaki would express his thoughts in words.
“Uncle,” he would begin, “don’t you think that we should destroy all the plants that are deadly?”
“Why?”
“So that we might have a safer world,” replied Inaki.
His uncle took a stick and from the iron nails that were driven into the beams of the hut, he took down plants, herbs, and mushrooms from a pot. He laid them with great care onto the table and gave the stick to Inaki.
“Which of these would you destroy?” he asked.
Inaki looked at the dozen or so fresh and dried plants and mushrooms.
“First seven are easy,” he said, “since they are the deadliest. I would destroy the Star-of-Bethlehem, the deadly nightshade, and the poison oak, the yew, the oleander, the wisteria and the hemlock and of the mushrooms all but the shaggy mane and the amanita muscaria mushroom.”
The Moon Worshippers Page 5