Stonehenge

by Bernard Cornwell

  The women of Ratharryn sang the wedding chant of Slaol. They danced to their own voices, stopping when the song stopped, then stepping on again when the beautiful lament resumed. The music was so plangent and lovely that Saban felt tears in his eyes and he began to dance himself, feeling the spirit inside him, and all about him the great crowd was swaying and moving as the voices swelled and stopped, swooped and sang. The sun was low now, but still bright, not yet touched with the blood-red of its winter dying.

  A murmur sounded from the back of the crowd and Saban turned to see three figures had emerged from Ratharryn. One was all in black, one all in white and one was dressed in a deerskin tunic. It was Lallic who wore the tunic, and she walked between Camaban and Aurenna who were arrayed in feathered cloaks. Camaban’s cloak was thick with swan feathers while Aurenna, her hair as bright as the day Saban had first seen her, was swathed in ravens’ feathers. White and black, Slaol and Lahanna, and Aurenna’s face was transfigured by a look of ecstatic delight. She was unaware of the waiting crowd or of the silent priests or even of the towering stones because her spirit had already been carried to the new world that the temple would bring. The crowd fell silent.

  Camaban had ordered two new piles of wood to be made on either side of the temple, but well away from the stones, and a hundred men had labored all the previous day to rebuild what Derrewyn had burned. Now those new heaps of timber were set on fire. The flames climbed hungrily through the high stacks in which whole trees had been placed so that the fires would burn through the whole long midwinter night. The fires hissed and crackled, the loudest noise of the evening, for the drumming, singing and dancing had all stopped as the three figures came up the sacred path.

  Camaban stopped by the sun stone, and Lallic, obedient to his muttered order, stood in front of the stone and stared toward the temple. “Your daughter?” Lewydd asked in a murmur.

  “My daughter,” Saban confirmed. “She is to be a priestess here.” He wanted to walk closer to Lallic, but two spearmen immediately stepped into his path. “You must be still,” one said and lowered his spear blade so that it pointed at Saban’s chest. “Camaban insisted we must all be still,” the spearman explained. Aurenna was walking on into the long shadow of the stones and then she disappeared into the temple itself.

  The crowd waited. The sun was low now, but the shadows of the temple did not yet stretch to the sun stone. There was a faint pinkness in the sky and the southernmost stones were touched with that color while the inside of the temple was already dark. The pattern of shadows was becoming clear as the stones took on depth when, from the temple’s darkened heart, Aurenna sang.

  She sang for a long time and the crowd strained to listen for her voice was not powerful and it was muffled by the barriers of tall pillars, but those closest to the spearmen could hear her words and they whispered them on to the folk behind. Slaol made the world, Aurenna chanted, and made the gods to preserve the world, and he made the people to live in the world, and he made the plants and animals to shelter and feed the people, and in the beginning, when all that was made, there was nothing but life and love and laughter, for men and women were the companions of the gods. But some of the gods had been envious of Slaol for none was as bright and powerful as their creator, and Lahanna was the most jealous of all and she had tried to dim Slaol’s brightness by sliding in front of his face, and when that failed she had persuaded mankind that she could take away death if they would just worship her instead of Slaol. It was then, Aurenna chanted, that man’s misery began. Misery and sickness and toil and pain, and death was not vanquished for Lahanna had lied, and Slaol had moved away from the world to let winter ravage the land so that the people would know his power.

  But now, Aurenna sang, the world would be turned back to its beginnings. Lahanna would bow to Slaol and Slaol would return, and there would be an end to the misery. There would be no more winter and no more sadness, for Slaol would take his proper place and the dead would go to Slaol instead of to Lahanna and they would walk in his vast brightness. Aurenna’s voice was thready and sibilant, seeming to come disembodied from the stones. We shall live in Slaol’s glory, she sang, and share in his favor, and with those words the shadow of the topmost arch stretched to touch the sun stone and Slaol was poised, dazzling and terrible and vast, just above his temple. The evening was cooling and the first shiver of the night wind stirred the plumes of smoke from the fires.

  Slaol is the giver of life, Aurenna sang, the only giver of life, and he will give us life if we give life to him. The shadow was creeping up the sun stone. All the ground between that stone and the temple was dark now, while the rest of the hillside was green with the year’s last light. Tonight, Aurenna sang, we shall give Slaol a bride of the earth and he will give her back to us.

  It took a few heartbeats for those words to register with Saban and then he understood Lallic’s purpose, the same purpose that Aurenna had avoided at the Sea Temple in Sarmennyn, and he knew his oath was being returned to him in blood. “No!” Saban shouted, shattering the crowd’s solemn stillness, and one of the spearmen clubbed him on the side of the head with his spear staff. He struck Saban to the ground and the other man placed his blade on Saban’s neck. Camaban did not turn round at the commotion, nor did Lallic move; Aurenna went on undisturbed.

  We shall give a bride to the sun, Aurenna chanted, and we shall see the bride return to us alive and we will know the god has heard us and that he loves us and that all will be well. The dead will walk, Aurenna sang, the dead will dance, and when the bride comes back to life there will be no more weeping in the night and no more sobs of mourning, for mankind will live with the gods and be like them. Saban struggled to rise, but both spearmen were holding him down and he saw that the sun was now hidden behind the topmost arch and blazing its light all around the temple’s outline.

  Camaban turned to Lallic. He smiled at her. He raised his hands from under his white-feathered cloak and he gently untied the lace at the neck of her tunic. She trembled slightly and a whimper escaped her throat. “You are going on a journey,” Camaban soothed her, “but it will not be a long journey and you will greet Slaol face to face and bring his greeting back to us.”

  She nodded, and Camaban pushed the deerskin tunic down over her shoulders and let it fall so that her white naked body shivered against the gray of the sun stone. “He comes,” Camaban whispered, and from beneath his cloak he brought out a bronze knife with a wooden handle studded with a thousand small gold pins. “He comes,” he said again and half turned toward the stones and at that instant the sun lanced through the topmost arch of the temple to send a spear of brilliant light toward the sun stone. That ray of light, narrow and stark and bright, slid over the capstone at the far side of the sky ring, through the tallest arch and under the nearest lintel to strike against Lallic who shuddered as the knife was raised. The bronze blade flashed in the sun.

  “No!” Saban shouted again, and the spearmen pressed their bronze blades against his neck as the crowd held its breath.

  But the knife did not move.

  The crowd waited. The beam of light would not last long. It was already narrowing as the sun sank toward the horizon beyond the temple, but still the blade stayed aloft and Saban saw that it was shaking. Lallic was shivering in fear and someone hissed at Camaban to strike with the blade before the sun went, but just as Hirac had been paralyzed by the gold on Camaban’s tongue, so Camaban himself was now struck motionless.

  For the dead walked.

  Just as Derrewyn had promised, the dead walked.

  There was a small group of people at the end of the sacred avenue. No one had remarked on their presence, assuming they were latecomers to the ceremony, but they had stayed in the lower ground as Aurenna sang the story of the world. Now a single figure came from the group and climbed the sacred path between the white chalk ditches. She walked slowly, haltingly, and it was the sight of her that had stilled Camaban’s hand. And still he could not move, but only stare at t
he woman who advanced into the temple’s long shadow. She was swathed in a cloak made from badger skins and had a woolen shawl hooding her long white hair, and the eyes that peered from the hood were malevolent, clever and terrifying. She came slowly for she was old, so old no one knew how old she was. She was Sannas and she had come to collect her soul and Camaban suddenly screamed at her to go away. The knife trembled.

  “Now!” Aurenna shouted from the temple. “Now!”

  But Camaban could not move. He stared at Sannas, who came to the sun stone. There she smiled at him and there was only one tooth in her mouth. “Do you have my soul safe?” she asked him in a voice that was as dry as bones that had been resting for generations in the dark hearts of their grave mounds. “Is my soul safe, Camaban?” she asked.

  “Don’t k-k-kill me, p-p-p-please don’t k-kill me,” Camaban begged. The old woman smiled at him, then put her arms about his neck and kissed him on the mouth. The crowd stared in amazement; many recognized the old woman and they touched their groins and shook with fear. It was then that Lewydd shouldered aside the terrified guards holding Saban to the ground and Saban climbed to his feet, seized one of the guards’ spears and ran toward the sun stone where the ray of Slaol’s dying light was shrinking. “Now!” Aurenna shouted again, and the crowd was moaning and wailing in fear of the dead sorceress in her black and white cloak, and the spearmen did not dare interfere for they had seen Camaban’s horror and it had infected them.

  Sannas took her mouth from Camaban’s lips. “Lahanna!” she prayed in her grating voice, “give me his last breath,” and she kissed him again and Saban thrust the spear with all his strength into his brother’s back. He did not hesitate, for it was his own oath that had endangered his daughter’s life and he alone could save her, and he struck high on Camaban’s back so that the heavy blade smashed through the ribs and into his heart. Saban screamed as he struck and the force of his killing blow drove Camaban forward so that he fell, dying, but with the woman’s mouth still on his.

  Sannas clung to Camaban as they fell, then waited till she saw her enemy was truly dead before she pushed back her hood and Saban saw it was Derrewyn, as he had known it must be, and they stared at each other, blood on the grass between them and the light almost gone from the sun stone. “I took his soul,” Derrewyn whispered to Saban. Her hair was whitened with ash and her gums were still bloody where she had pulled out her teeth. “I took his soul,” she exulted. Just then Aurenna ran from the temple, screaming, and as she passed Saban she drew a copper dagger from beneath her raven-black cloak. There was still a patch of light on Lallic’s face. The light shone on the sun bride and on the stone behind her, the stone which marked Slaol’s midsummer rising and served as a reminder to the sun god of his strength. Slaol could see the stone, could know his power, and by seeing what gift was brought to the stone he would know what his loving people wanted. And surely he would give it to them? In that belief Aurenna drove the green blade through her daughter’s throat so that the blood spurted out to spatter scarlet on Camaban’s white-feathered robe.

  “No!” Saban shouted, too late.

  “Now!” Aurenna turned to the sun. “Now!”

  Saban stared in horror. He had thought Aurenna was running to rescue Lallic, not kill her, but the girl had collapsed at the stone’s foot and her slim white body was webbed with blood. She choked for a heartbeat and her eyes stared at Saban, but then she was dead and Aurenna threw down the knife and shrieked once more at Slaol. “Now! Now!”

  Lallic did not move.

  “Now!” Aurenna howled. There were tears in her eyes. “You promised! You promised!” She staggered toward the temple, her hair wild, her eyes wide and her hands red with her daughter’s blood. “Erek!” she screeched, “Erek! Now! Now!”

  Saban turned to follow her, but Derrewyn put out a hand. “Let her find the truth,” she said, still speaking in Sannas’s voice.

  “Now!” Aurenna wailed. “You promised us! Please!” She was crying now, racked by great sobs. “Please!” She was back among the stones and the ray of light had vanished so that the temple was all shadow, but rimmed with the sun’s dying brightness, and Aurenna, weeping and moaning, turned to see that her daughter did not live and so she ran through the stones, twisting past the pillars to the entrance at the southern side of the sky ring where she fell to her knees in the wide gap next to the slender pillar, clasped her hands together and howled again at the sun, which now sat red and vast and uncaring on the horizon. “You promised! You promised!”

  Saban did not see it. He heard it. He heard the crack and the grating noise and the crash that made the earth shudder, and he knew that the last pillar of Lahanna’s ring had broken and the capstone had fallen. And Aurenna’s scream was cut off.

  Slaol slipped beneath the earth.

  There was silence.

  Saban did not want to be chief of Ratharryn, yet the tribe chose him and would not let him refuse them. He pleaded that Leir was a younger man and that Gundur was an experienced warrior, but the men of Ratharryn were tired of being led by spearmen or by visionaries and they wanted Saban. They wanted him to be like his father, so Saban ruled as Hengall had ruled in Ratharryn. He dispensed justice, he hoarded grain and he let the priests tell him by what signs the gods were making their wishes known.

  Derrewyn went to Cathallo and appointed a chief there, but Leir and Hanna stayed at Ratharryn where Kilda became Saban’s wife. Slaol’s temple, the one just outside the settlement’s gate, was given to Lahanna.

  The world was as it had been. The winter was as cold as ever. Snow fell. The old, the sick and the cursed died. Saban doled out grain, sent hunters to the woods and guarded the tribe’s treasures. Some of the old folk said it was as though Hengall had never died, but had simply been reborn into Saban.

  Yet on the hill there stood a broken circle of stone within a ring of chalk.

  The bodies of Camaban, Aurenna and Lallic were laid in the Death House and there, in the shadow of the mother stone, the ravens fed on their flesh until, in the late spring, there were only white bones left on the grass. Haragg’s bones had long been buried.

  The temple was never deserted. Even in that first hard winter folk came to the stones. They brought their sick to be healed, their dreams to be fulfilled and gifts to keep Ratharryn wealthy. Saban was surprised, for he had thought that with Camaban’s death and the capstone’s fall the temple had failed. Slaol had not come to earth and winter still locked the river with ice, but the people who came to the temple believed the stones had worked a miracle. “And so they did,” Derrewyn said to Saban in the first spring after Camaban’s death.

  “What miracle?” Saban asked.

  Derrewyn grimaced. “Your brother believed the stones would control the gods. He thought he was a god himself, and that Aurenna was a goddess, and what happened?”

  “They died,” Saban said curtly.

  “The stones killed them,” Derrewyn said. “The gods did come to the temple that night and they killed the man who claimed he was a god and crushed the woman who thought she was a goddess.” She stared at the temple. “It is a place of the gods, Saban. Truly.”

  “They killed my daughter too,” Saban said bitterly.

  “The gods demand sacrifice.” Derrewyn’s voice was harsh. “They always have. They always will.”

  Aurenna and Lallic were laid in a shared grave and Saban raised a mound over them. He made another mound for Camaban, and it was that second grave that had brought Derrewyn to Ratharryn. She watched as Camaban’s bones were laid in the mound’s central pit. “You won’t take his jawbone?” she asked Saban.

  “Let him talk to the gods as he always did.” Saban put the small mace beside his brother’s body, then added the gold-hilted knife, the copper knife, the great buckle of gold and, last of all, a bronze axe. “In the afterlife,” Saban explained, “he can work. He always boasted he never held an axe, so let him hold one now. He can fell trees, as I did.”

  “And he will
go to Lahanna’s care after all,” Derrewyn said with a toothless smile.

  “It seems so,” Saban said.

  “Then he can take her a gift from me.” Derrewyn climbed down into the pit and placed the three lozenges on Camaban’s breast. She placed the large one in the center and the two smaller on either side. A robin perched on the edge of the pit and Saban took the bird’s presence as a sign that the gods approved of the gift.

  Saban helped Derrewyn climb from the grave. He stared a last time at his brother’s bones, then turned away. “Fill it,” he ordered the waiting men, and so they scraped the earth and chalk onto Camaban’s body, finishing the mound that would stand with the other ancestors’ graves on the grassy crest above the temple.

  Saban walked home.

  It was evening, and the shadow of the stones stretched long toward Ratharryn. They stood gray and gaunt, broken and awesome, like nothing else on all the earth, but Saban did not look back. He knew he had built a great thing and that folk would worship there until time itself was ended, but he did not look back. He took Derrewyn’s arm and they walked away until they were free of the temple’s shadow.

  There were fish traps to mend and ground to break and grain to sow and disputes to settle.

  Behind Saban and Derrewyn the dying sun flashed in the temple’s topmost arch. It blazed there for a while, edging the stones with dazzling light, and then it sank and in the twilight the temple turned as black as night. Day folded into darkness and the stones were left to the spirits.

  Which hold them still.

  Historical Note

  It is surely obvious that every character and deity in the novel is fictitious. The Stonehenge that we see is the ruin of a monument that was erected at the end of the third millennium BC, the beginning of Britain’s Bronze Age, and we have no records of kings, chiefs, cooks or carpenters from that era. Nevertheless, some of the detail in the novel is drawn from the archaeological records. There was an archer, with a stone bracer to protect his wrist from the lash of his bow, buried beside Stonehenge’s northeastern entrance, and he had been killed, evidently at close quarters, by three arrows. The three gold lozenges, the belt buckle, the knives, axe and ceremonial mace were discovered in one of the burial mounds closest to the monument and are today on display in the Devizes Museum. Ratharryn is what we now call Durrington Walls and its vast embankment was one of the great feats of neolithic man, though today it is little more than a shadow on the ground. There were probably two temples within the embankment and a third, which is now called Woodhenge, just outside, and all of those shrines were close to Stonehenge which is here called the Old Temple or the Sky Temple. Cathallo is Avebury, the long barrow where Camaban’s warriors defiled the bones is at West Kennet, the small temple at the end of the sacred avenue is the Sanctuary and the Sacred Mound, of course, is Silbury Hill, and all those features can still be visited. Drewenna is Stanton Drew, Maden is Marden, Sarmennyn is southwest Wales. At Stonehenge itself the “moonstones” are now called the Station Stones, while the “sun stone” is the Heel Stone. The word “henge’ is deliberately not used in the novel for it would have had no meaning. The Saxons originally applied the word only to Stonehenge, for only Stonehenge had “hanging” (henge) stones (i.e. the lintels), but over the years we have broadened its meaning to include any and every circular monument that remains from the neolithic and early bronze ages.