But however he lifted the stone he knew he would need a sledge that was three times bigger than any he had made before, and he decided the sledge must be made in Cathallo from oak timbers that he would place in a long and narrow hut so that the timber could season. Dry wood was just as strong as green timber, but weighed much less, and Saban reckoned he must make the sledge as light as possible if the big boulder were to be shifted off the hill. He would let the timbers dry for a year or more and in that time he would worry at the problem of how to lift the stone.
He found Aurenna in Cathallo’s shrine. She was wearing a strange robe made of deerskin cut with a myriad tiny slits into which she had threaded jays’ feathers so that the garment seemed to shiver blue and white whenever a breeze blew. “The people expect a priestess to be different,” she said, explaining the robe, and Saban thought how beautiful she looked. Her pale skin was still unflawed, her gaze was firm and gentle, while her ravaged hair was growing back so that it now enclosed her face like a soft golden cap. She looked happy, radiantly so, and laughed off Saban’s worries that the defeated folk of Cathallo would burn his drying timbers. “They’ll work hard to make our temple a success,” she promised.
“They will?” Saban asked, surprised.
“When the temple is finished,” Aurenna explained, “they will be free again. I have promised them that.”
“You promised them freedom?” Saban asked. “And what does Camaban say?”
“Camaban will obey Slaol,” Aurenna said. She walked Saban through the settlement and though she proclaimed a blithe belief in the goodness of Cathallo’s people, to Saban they looked sullen and resentful. Their chief was dead, their sorceress had vanished and they lived under the spears of Ratharryn’s warriors, and Saban feared they would try to burn the long timbers. He also feared for Aurenna’s life, and for the life of his two children, but Aurenna laughed at his worries. She explained how she refused the protection of Ratharryn’s warriors and how she walked unguarded in the humiliated settlement. “They like me,” she said simply, and told Saban how she had fought to keep the shrine unviolated. Haragg had wanted to pull down the temple’s boulders and move them to Ratharryn, but Aurenna had persuaded Camaban to leave the stones alone. “Our job is to entice Lahanna, not to offend her,” she said, and so the temple had remained and the folk of Cathallo took some comfort from that.
They evidently took more comfort from Aurenna. She had proclaimed herself a priestess of Lahanna and though, obedient to Haragg, she would not permit the sacrifice of living things, she had taken care to learn the tribe’s ritual prayers. Each night she sang to the moon and in each dawn she turned thrice to lament Lahanna’s fading. She consulted Cathallo’s priests, rationed the settlement’s food so that none starved and, best of all, she was proving to be a healer as effective as either Sannas or Derrewyn. Indeed, she was reckoned better than Derrewyn, for Aurenna loved all children and when the women brought her their sons and daughters Aurenna would soothe away their pain with a kindness and patience that Derrewyn had never shown. A dozen small children lived in Aurenna’s hut now, all of them orphans whom she fed, clothed and taught, and the hut had become a meeting place for Cathallo’s women. “I like it here,” Aurenna said as she and Saban walked back to the shrine. “I am happy here.”
“And I shall be happy with you,” Saban said cheerfully.
“With me?” Aurenna looked alarmed.
Saban smiled. He had not seen his wife since midwinter and he had missed her. “We shall start moving stones very soon,” he told her. “The small ones first, then the bigger, so I shall be spending time here. A lot of time.”
Aurenna frowned. “Not here,” she said, “not in my hut.” A gaggle of children spilled from the hut, led by Leir. Saban lifted his son, whirled him round and tossed him in the air, but Aurenna, when Leir’s feet were safe on the ground, pushed the boy away and took Saban’s arm. “We cannot be together as we used to be. It isn’t proper.”
“What isn’t proper?” Saban growled.
Aurenna walked a few paces in silence. The children followed, their small faces watching the adults anxiously. “You and I have become servants of the temple that you will build,” Aurenna said, “and the temple is Lahanna’s bridal shrine.”
“What has that to do with you and me?”
“Lahanna will struggle against the marriage,” Aurenna explained. “She has tried to rival Slaol, but now we will give her to his keeping forever and she will resist it. My task is to reassure her. That is why I was sent here.” She paused, frowning. “Have you heard the rumor that Derrewyn still lives?”
“I heard,” Saban grunted.
“She will be encouraging Lahanna to oppose us, so I am to oppose Derrewyn.” She smiled placidly, as if that explanation must prove satisfying to Saban.
He gazed into the shadowed ditch where the pink and brown blossoms of bee orchids grew so thick. The children crowded round Aurenna who broke off scraps of honeycomb to put into their greedy hands. Saban turned back to look at her and, as ever, was dazzled by her startling beauty. “I can live here,” he said, gesturing toward Sannas’s old hut. “It’s a better place to live than Ratharryn, at least while we’re moving the stones.”
“Oh, Saban!” She smiled chidingly. “Don’t you understand anything I’ve said? I cut my hair! I turned away from my other life! I am now dedicated to Lahanna, only to Lahanna. Not to Slaol, not to you, not to anyone but Lahanna! When the temple is built then we shall come together, for that is the day Lahanna will be coaxed from her loneliness, but till then I have to share the loneliness.”
“We’re married!” Saban protested angrily.
“And we shall be married again,” Aurenna said placidly, “but for now I am Lahanna’s priestess and that is my sacrifice.”
“Camaban told you this?” Saban asked bitterly.
“I dreamed it,” Aurenna said firmly. “Lahanna comes to me in my dreams. She is reluctant, of course, but I am patient with her. I see her as a woman dressed in a long robe that shines! She is so beautiful, Saban! So beautiful and hurt. I see her in the sky and I call to her and sometimes she hears me. And when we bring Slaol to the temple she will come to us. I am sure of it.” She smiled, expecting Saban to share her happiness. “But until that day,” she went on, “we must be calm, obedient and good.” She turned and asked the question of her children: “What are we to be?”
“Calm, obedient and good,” they chorused.
She looked back at Saban. “I cannot stop you coming to the hut,” she said softly, “but you will drive Lahanna away if you do and the temple will be meaningless, meaningless.”
Saban went to Haragg when he returned to Ratharryn and told the high priest what Aurenna had said. Haragg listened, thought for a while, then shrugged. “It is the price you pay,” he said, “and we shall all pay a price for the temple. Your brother is tortured with visions, I am made a priest again and you will lose Aurenna for a while. Nothing good comes easily.”
“So I should not insist on sleeping with her?”
“Get yourself a slave girl,” Haragg said in his grim voice. “Forget Aurenna. She must share Lahanna’s loneliness for now, but you have a temple to build. So get yourself a slave girl and forget your wife. And build, Saban, just build.”
* * *
Before Saban could build he had to move the stones from Cathallo. He knew he could not shift them along the direct path to Ratharryn for that crossed the marshes by Maden and climbed the steep hill just south of that settlement, and the big boulders would never pass those obstacles, so he spent that summer searching for a better route. He insisted that Leir should accompany him for it was time, he told Aurenna, that the boy learned how to survive far from any settlement. He and Leir roamed the western country in search of a path that avoided the wetlands and the steepest hills. Their exploration took the best part of the late summer, but eventually Saban discovered a path that would take the stones out of Cathallo toward the setting sun, then round in
a great arc so that they would approach the Sky Temple from the west.
Saban enjoyed Leir’s company. They kept a sharp eye for outlaws, but saw none, for this western countryside was much hunted by Ratharryn’s warriors. Saban taught Leir to use a bow and, on their last day, after Saban had brought down a pricket with a single arrow, he let Leir kill the beast with a spear. The boy was eager enough, but seemed surprised at how much strength was needed to puncture the deer’s skin. He managed to avoid the flailing hooves and thrust the bronze blade home and, because it was his son’s first kill, Saban smeared the boy’s face with the pricket’s blood.
“Will the deer come back to life?” Leir asked his father.
“I don’t think so,” Saban said with a smile. He tore the hide away from the animal’s belly then drew a knife to slit the muscles covering the entrails. “We’ll have eaten most of him!”
“Mother says we’ll all come back to life,” Leir said earnestly.
Saban swayed back on his heels. His hands and wrists were covered with blood. “She says what?”
“She says the graves will empty when the temple is built,” Leir said earnestly. “Everyone we’ve ever loved will come back to life. That’s what she says.”
Saban wondered if his son had misunderstood Aurenna’s words. “How will we feed them all?” he asked lightly. “It’s hard enough to feed the living, let alone the dead.”
“And no one will ever be ill,” Leir went on, “and no one will be unhappy again.”
“That’s certainly why we’re making the temple,” Saban said, going back to the warm carcass and slashing the knife through the flesh to release the deer’s coiled guts. He decided Leir must be confused for neither Camaban nor Haragg had ever claimed that the temple would conquer death, but that night, after he and Leir had carried the best of the deer’s meat to Ratharryn, Saban asked Camaban about Aurenna’s words.
“No more death, eh?” Camaban said. He and Saban were in their father’s old hut where Camaban now had a half-dozen female slaves to look after him. The brothers had shared a meal of pork and Camaban now stripped one of the rib bones with his teeth. “Is that what Aurenna says?”
“So Leir tells me.”
“And he’s a clever boy,” Camaban said, glancing at his bloody-faced nephew who slept to one side of the hut. “I think it’s possible,” he said guardedly.
“The dead will come to life?” Saban asked in astonishment.
“Who can tell what will happen when the gods reunite?” Camaban asked, poking in the bowl for another rib. “Winter will go, of that I’m sure, and death too? Why not?” He frowned, thinking about it. “Why do we worship?”
“Good harvests, healthy children,” Saban said.
“We worship,” Camaban corrected him, “because life is not the end. Death is not the end. After death we live, but where? With Lahanna in the night. But Lahanna does not give life, Slaol does, and our temple will take the dead from Lahanna to Slaol. So perhaps Aurenna is right. Have some blackberries, they’re the first of the year and very good.” One of his slave girls had brought the berries and now settled beside Camaban. She was a thin young girl from Cathallo with big anxious eyes and a mass of curly black hair. She leaned her head on Camaban’s shoulder and he absent-mindedly slipped an arm under her tunic to caress a breast. “Aurenna’s been thinking about these things a long time,” Camaban went on, “while I’ve been distracted by the temple. She must think that the gods will reward us for bringing them back together, and that does seem likely, doesn’t it? And what greater reward could there be than an end to death?” He put a blackberry into the girl’s mouth. “When will you be ready to move some stones?”
“As soon as the frost hardens the ground.”
“You’ll need slaves,” Camaban said, feeding the girl another blackberry. She playfully nipped at his fingers and he pinched her, making her squeal with laughter. “I’m sending some war parties out this winter to capture more slaves.”
“It isn’t slaves I need,” Saban said distractedly. He was jealous of his brother’s girl. He had not taken Haragg’s advice, though at times he was tempted. “I need oxen.”
“We’ll fetch you oxen,” Camaban promised, “but you’ll need slaves too. You’re going to shape the stones, remember? Oxen can’t do that!”
“Shape them?” Saban asked so loudly that he woke Leir.
“Of course!” Camaban said. He pointed with his free hand at the wooden blocks of his model temple, which had been Leir’s playthings earlier in the evening. “The stones must be smooth like those blocks. Any tribe can raise rough stones like Cathallo’s, but ours will be shaped. They will be beautiful. They will be perfect.”
Saban grimaced at his brother’s careless demand. “Do you know how hard that stone is?” he asked.
“I know the stones must be shaped, and that you are to do it,” Camaban said obstinately, “and I know that the more time you spend talking about it, the longer it will take.”
Saban and Leir walked back to Cathallo next day. The deer’s blood, dry and flaky, was still on the boy’s face when he ran to his mother and Aurenna was horrified. She spat on her fingers to wash the blood away, then scolded Saban. “He doesn’t need to know how to kill!” she protested.
“It’s the first skill every man needs,” Saban said. “If you can’t kill, you can’t eat.”
“Priests don’t hunt for their food,” Aurenna said angrily, “and Leir is to be a priest.”
“He may not want to be.”
“I have dreamed it!” Aurenna insisted defiantly, once again claiming an authority that Saban could not challenge. “The gods have decided,” she said, then pulled Leir away.
It was after the harvest that Saban moved the first stone off the hillside. It was one of the small stones yet it still needed twenty-four oxen to draw its sledge down the hill. The oxen were in three rows, eight to a row, and behind each line of beasts, like a great bar behind their tails, was a tree trunk to which their harnesses were attached. Each trunk was tied to the sledge by two long lines of twisted ox hide to pull the sledges along. In the first few paces Saban discovered that the oxen at the back were prone to step over the hauling lines whenever the oxen in front faltered and so the stone rested while a dozen small boys were collected from the settlement and taught how to walk between the animals and hold the hauling lines high whenever they slackened. The boys were given sharpened sticks to goad the oxen while a dozen more boys and men ranged ahead of the stone to remove fallen branches or kick down tussocks that might impede the sledge runners. Ten more oxen plodded behind the stone. Some were there to replace any beast that fell ill in its harness, while the others carried fodder and spare hide ropes.
It took a whole day to drag the stone from the hill and through Cathallo’s shrine where, as the oxen lumbered by, Aurenna had a choir of women sing a song in praise of Lahanna. Haragg had come from Ratharryn and he beamed as the first stone passed through the boulders. He draped the oxen’s horns with chains of violet flowers while Cathallo’s priests scattered meadowsweets on the stone. Those priests had been the first to reconcile themselves to Ratharryn’s conquest, perhaps because Camaban had taken care to pay them well with bronze, amber and jet.
The oxen’s harnesses were great collars of leather, but even on the first day the collars chafed the animals’ necks raw and bloody, so Saban had the boys smear pig’s fat on the leather. The next day they hauled the stone out of sight of Cathallo. Most of the men and boys went back to the settlement to eat and sleep, but a handful stayed with Saban to guard the stone. They made a fire and shared a meal of dried meat with some pears and blackberries that they had found growing in a nearby wood. Besides Saban there were three men and four boys around the fire; all were from Cathallo and at first they were awkward with Saban, but afterward, when the meal was eaten and the fire was streaming sparks toward the stars, one of the men turned to Saban. “You were Derrewyn’s friend?” he asked.
“I was.”
“She still lives,” the man said defiantly. He had a scar on his face from where an arrow had struck his cheek during the battle that had destroyed Cathallo’s power.
“I hope she still lives,” Saban answered.
“You hope so?” The man was puzzled.
“As you said, I was her friend. And if she does still live,” Saban said firmly, “then you would do well to keep silent unless you want more of Ratharryn’s spearmen searching the forests for her.”
Another of the men played a short tune on a flute made from the bone of a crane’s leg. “They can search all they like,” he said when he had finished, “but they will never find her. Nor her child.”
The first man, whose name was Vennar, poked the fire to prompt a thick flurry of sparks, then gave Saban a sidelong glance. “Are you not afraid to be here with us?”
“If I was afraid,” Saban said, “I would not be here.”
“You need not be afraid,” Vennar said very quietly. “Derrewyn says you are not to be killed.”
Saban smiled. All summer he had suspected that Derrewyn was close and that, unknown to Cathallo’s conquerors, she kept in touch with her tribe. He was touched, too, that she had ordered his life spared. “But if you try to stop the stones from reaching Ratharryn,” he said, “then I shall fight you, and you will have to kill me.”
Vennar shook his head. “If we do not move the stones,” he said, “someone else will.”
“Besides,” the flute player added, “our women would fear Lahanna’s anger if you were to die.”
Stonehenge Page 39