Leaping Wolf, page 27
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
He might have slid into real despair again had he been riding alone, and he was strangely grateful for his travelling companions. The simple act of conversation took his mind from his own roiling guilt, and once or twice he’d even smirked at some comment of Anryn’s. Things were still tense between him and his brother but they were at least talking now and then, and Anryn was doing a fine job of keeping them going. When he’d first seen them after the fight he had railed at them both for it, one of the few times that Gawan had ever heard him raise his voice, but after their talking-to he had become his friendly self again, and the three had enjoyed an almost pleasant few days. The old brewer was quick to smile and even quicker with a jest, and had something about him that made him an exception to Gawan’s general attitude of impatience with cheery people.
The wagon rolled on along the street between the houses, the sons of Dearg riding their ponies on either side. Gawan was glad they hadn’t had to share a seat on the cart together. For all that they were on their way to reconciliation, the real test would come when they saw Tegwen again, and Rylion would be uncertain of him until then.
The ground began to slope upwards and Gawan couldn’t help but be impressed by Anryn’s pony. The beast looked like its grandchildren would be too old for hard work yet it was sure-footed and steady on the rocky ground, drawing the wagon up the hill without any sign of effort. The palisade was set about halfway up the slope but the great gates were wide open, and they passed through them without delay.
As they carried on up towards the main part of the town Gawan’s mind went back to some of the conversations he’d had on the way here. Rylion hadn’t been friendly with him exactly but his brother had been open and honest enough and had filled him in on all he knew about Tegwen’s life so far. It seemed that he and Harlen had kept in contact via her cousin Orel, who travelled through the territory peddling silver trinkets to various clans. Tegwen had lived fairly happily in Ymlan as far as he could tell, with Harlen and her husband raising her as a sister to their own brood. She had not wed so far as Rylion knew but had grown up strong and lively, with a talent for riding and an eagerness for battle. She had apparently been present at the fight against the Gaians at White Ridge, and Gawan wondered if he might have seen her there and not known it, or if she had seen him there but never approached him.
It was so strange. A part of him felt a tiny glimmer of pride that his daughter was a keen fighter, but he scolded himself for daring to feel so. It wasn’t as if she’d had him there as an example to look up to. All Gorvicae are warriors born! She has made herself one with no help from you. He pressed his lips together and brooded on that a little as they climbed further up into the town. The buildings were clustered close together but he could already see the longhall, set right at the top of the rocky hill. Anryn drew his ancient pony to a halt and jerked his chin towards it.
‘I take it you are headed up there?’
Gawan brought his mount to a stop and nodded.
‘They will need to know that I am here.’
Anryn nodded back before turning to the other brother.
‘Very well. Rylion, you can give me a hand with these?’
He gestured to the casks on the wagon. The blonde man dipped his head.
‘Of course.’
Anryn smiled.
‘Very well, we will get this lot unloaded over at Estyn’s place and meet you later. Whereabouts is your home here again?’
Gawan would hardly have called it a home but he did have a modest little house up near the longhall, and he gestured vaguely in that direction.
‘Up at the top just south of the hall, it’s the last house before the ground slopes down.’
Anryn nodded again.
‘We shall meet you there later then. Camelas guide you at the moot.’
Gawan bowed his head and touched a finger to his lips, more out of respect for Anryn than anything else. The moot would go the way it went and if Camelas was to have a say in it, it would not be via a disgraced Gadarim. He dismounted and tied the pony’s reins to the cart, taking only his cloak and sword with him. The top of the hill was unclimbable even for the most sure-footed beast, and Anryn would see it properly housed and watered. He exchanged a brief nod with Rylion, courteous if still not quite brotherly, and turned towards the longhall. The ground became even steeper as he walked this way and soon he was climbing the rough steps that had been hewn in the rocky ground. Behind him he heard the cart begin to squeak away into the town but he didn’t look back. He had a task to focus on.
He pushed away the mixture of nerves and excitement he felt at the prospect of soon finding Tegwen, and even shoved down his constant guilt about Emeryn and Rhianwyn. Right now his duty to the tribe had to come first, once he was done with it he could find his daughter and perhaps atone for some of his shameful deeds by becoming a father to his child. Assuming she will have me. He pushed that thought away too as he approached the great longhall of his people. Fears and shames and plans could wait, right now he had to keep his mind clear. The steep steps finally came to an end and he trudged on towards the long, low building. There was nobody standing watch outside the door, and Gawan opened it without a pause and stepped inside.
The benches of the long hall had been moved close to the walls, leaving a large expanse of scrubbed wood in the centre of the room. It was well lit by the orange light of the firepit before the high table, though nobody was sitting up there at present and Baercban’s chair stood empty. Instead the dozen or so men were standing as they argued, all so absorbed in the discussion that no-one noticed Gawan entering the hall. It seemed the dogs that normally loitered about the place had been taken outside, otherwise at least one of them would have given him away by coming to greet him. Gawan tended to like the dogs here more than he liked most people, and the feeling had always been mutual. He stood and watched quietly for a few moments, recognising the most frequent speakers as the three principle candidates to be the tribe’s new chieftain.
The youngest was a man perhaps eight or ten summers’ Gawan’s junior, middle-sized and brown-haired. His beard was trimmed close to a rather pointed chin and his cheekbones were high and sharp. He was dressed in a grey tunic with his green cloak still slung over one shoulder, a silver pin holding it in place. This was Taliesyn, the headman of Oaken Bridge.
Glaring at him as if he’d just caught the younger man ploughing his sister was the tallest and broadest of the trio of chiefs. He was around Gawan’s own age with dark hair, dark eyes and a fearsome scowl. His beard looked as dense as a thornbush and his arms were thick with muscle, his massive fists clenched tight. He wore a sleeveless wolf-fur coat over a brown shirt that strained to contain his chest. Karadoc, the headman of Black Harbour, had the look of a man who was always ready for violence, and was probably keen to get on with it as soon as possible. Gawan almost smirked. He recognised his own kind.
The eldest of the trio was Boryn, looking much as he had done when Gawan had seen him last. The Gadarim hoped quietly that his sudden departure from Moon Ridge hadn’t caused any undue problems for the old chief; his face seemed grave enough as it was. The two younger chiefs continued their argument in front of him, with Boryn frowning but not interrupting them.
‘You whine like an old woman, Taliesyn. It seems quite simple to me; we have headmen here now, all of them men of good reputation. Let us simply call a moot and have done with this.’
Karadoc’s voice was rough and harsh and Gawan could tell that Taliesyn was trying hard to keep his own words calm, even if a touch of sarcasm slipped through.
‘I see. And it is coincidence I suppose that most of those men happen to be friends of yours?’
Karadoc shrugged his shoulders.
‘It is no fault of mine that your friends have been lazy in coming here.’
Once again Gawan saw Taliesyn struggling to hold back an angry answer.
‘Most of those chiefs who are not yet here are absent because they went south to fight Lepidus’ legions and have yet to return. Many of them lost their lives in that fight.’
Karadoc opened his mouth to comment but Boryn spoke quietly through his thick moustache.
‘May they cross the bridge unharmed.’
He placed a hand over his heart and the other men there copied him, echoing the blessing as they did.
‘May they cross unharmed.’
Gawan touched his fingers to his chest but merely thought the words in his head. He wanted to keep watching a little longer before he was noticed. The moment the response had been given Karadoc spoke again, the anger plain in his voice.
‘Do you say that I did not fight? Where were…’
But once again Boryn cut him off. He didn’t speak loudly but the big chief stopped and the others turned their eyes to the elder man.
‘Peace! No-one is questioning your valour Karadoc. But the fact remains that there are those whose voices ought to be heard in this who are not yet here.’
Karadoc’s lip curled beneath his beard.
‘I see no reason for all this delay for their sake, the choice before them is obvious.’
Gawan spotted Hywel the druid standing a little way off and the holy man added his voice to the discussion.
‘No matter how the choice is viewed Karadoc, each headman of the tribe has a right to be heard, and we will not deny them that right for your impatience.’
Karadoc scowled at the druid but didn’t dare to contradict him. Gawan found himself thinking on the choice the headmen would have and despite what Karadoc seemed to think, the decision that faced them would not be a simple one. All three men could claim some kind of relation to Baercban, either by blood or by marriage, all three had proven themselves in combat, and all three were experienced chiefs of their own clans. Candidates at a chieftain’s moot were generally selected based on their age, their reputation, and how large a territory they were accustomed to running. Taliesyn might be young but Oaken Bridge was a large settlement and he had been an effective headman there for some years now. Karadoc was more senior but Black Harbour was not nearly so large a place and Boryn, though the eldest of them all, was chief of only a very small clan. Each one had a fairly good reputation and the decision of the druids and headmen would not be easy. And of course, Gawan would have his say as well.
There were rumblings among the other men in the hall, most of them clustered together in two groups on either side of the room. Gawan felt his brow furrow. Lurian methods of choosing leaders were supposed to be simple, but this looked like it might become a complex and divisive affair. Have they seen too much of the Gaians and their infighting? Have they forgotten what it is to be Gorvicae? He found his lip twitching in annoyance. Perhaps it had always been this way when a moot was called, and Gawan had just been too blind to see it. He sighed quietly. Say what you would for the Wildcat, she at least encouraged unity in her people.
The thought of Rhianwyn threatened to bring his guilt back to the fore and he decided it was time to show himself. He walked out from the shadow of the door and approached the group of chiefs. Hywel was the first to see the Gadarim and he turned to face him, nodding quietly. The other men saw the gesture and they too looked to the door. Boryn was smiling at him, Taliesyn looked uncertain, and Karadoc’s face if anything grew even surlier. Gawan bowed politely to the druid but made a point of not doing so to the chiefs. Until he handed it to Duran he was still the First Man, and it was clear that these bickerers needed a Gadarim to keep them in line. He cast his eyes over the group and spoke in a clear voice.
‘Good day, comrades.’
Hywel was the first to answer, closely followed by Boryn.
‘Welcome home, First Man.’
‘It is good to see you.’
The elder chief walked up and clasped wrists with him as the druid continued to speak.
‘We shall be glad of your voice in the chieftain’s moot.’
There were more rumblings from the chiefs and Karadoc stepped forward but then Hywel spoke again, this time addressing them all. For a moment it looked as if the big man might cut across him but he held himself back, settling for a glare.
‘There is much to discuss but as has been said, not all who ought to be here have yet arrived. We shall speak again tonight about how the moot should be arranged once they are here.’
Both Taliesyn and Karadoc looked like they wanted to add a comment but this time Boryn seized the initiative before they could say anything.
‘Well said, father.’ He turned to Gawan. ‘I hope you will be able to join us, Gawan?’
The First Man knew what was required of him and he bowed his head. He didn’t really want to have to listen to more of this arguing but it had to be done and he would do it.
‘Of course.’
Hywel gave a tiny gesture that made it clear the current meeting was over.
‘Excellent. We shall look forward to it.’
Some of the chiefs in the hall looked annoyed at their discussion being halted so abruptly while others, Boryn among them, looked relieved. Even from the little that Gawan had heard it was clear that nothing had been accomplished so far, and he doubted if any resolution would have been reached had they been allowed to argue on for longer. The little group began to move amongst themselves to share parting pleasantries before heading for the doors. Most of them exchanged nods or clasped wrists with him as they left, some with more enthusiasm than others. His position and reputation had made him a figure of fear and respect, but Gawan knew perfectly well that he was not well-liked among the chiefs. Not that he cared; he was hardly that keen on himself.
Boryn’s friendly smile was the most genuine of them, closely followed by Hywel, though his expression was far more subtle.
‘I would speak to you before we reconvene this evening my friend; we have been most concerned for you since Moon Ridge. I take it you will be staying at your old house?’
Gawan nodded.
‘Yes.’
He wasn’t really in the mood to chat with Hywel about where he’d been and why but he was a druid and he could hardly tell him no. The holy man nodded back.
‘Very well, I shall visit you shortly if I may?’
It was a rhetorical question but Gawan dipped his head all the same.
‘Of course.’
The druid smiled at him a little and began walking towards the doors, his white robe flapping at his heels. Gawan frowned and waited a moment before turning to follow him. A part of him was wishing that Duran was already the First Man and that all of this could just be made his problem, but he slapped himself down for the notion at once. He was the First Man of his tribe and he had his duties. However inconvenient they might be.
*
Gawan’s house at Graigarw was square rather than round, having been converted from an old storeroom that had once served the chieftain’s longhall. It wasn’t as warm as most houses but it was spacious enough to have two good-sized rooms, and the four men now sat around the big table in the front one. Ale, chicken and fresh bread had been brought in from the hall, and Gawan, Rylion and Anryn had sat in silence as they ate. Hywel had arrived when they were midway through their meal and they had naturally invited him to join them. The druid had accepted a horn of water and some bread, and seemed contented to nibble quietly until the rest of them had finished. Once they had, Gawan flicked his eyes from the druid to his guests but Hywel smiled, reading his thoughts.
‘Your friends may stay as we talk, Gawan. There should be no secrecy in the choosing of our chieftain.’
Gawan thought he detected a hint of impatience in his voice, but it wasn’t directed at them. He felt glad that he wouldn’t have to ask the others to leave them alone. Anryn was a good friend and he didn’t want Rylion to feel excluded. He decided to be direct.
‘Alright then father, who do you believe should take Baercban’s chair?’
A line appeared between the holy man’s thick eyebrows and he pressed his lips together before he spoke.
‘It is difficult to say. Taliesyn is very young and I am uncertain of him, while Karadoc is headstrong and stubborn. Since Taliesyn has declared himself in favour of the Caledon and Karadoc is firmly against it, both are men likely to cause division among the Gorvicae. Boryn would of course make a wise chieftain for us all, but for one small problem.’
Rylion asked the question before Gawan could.
‘What is that, father?’
The druid shrugged.
‘He does not want to be.’
Rylion frowned but Gawan understood. Boryn was only standing at the moot so that a voice of reason might be heard; the old chief was content enough where he was. The two brothers looked down into their cups, neither one quite sure what to say. Beside them, Anryn spoke up.
‘Have you seen anything regarding all this, father?’
The subtle emphasis made it plain what he referred to, and from another man it might have seemed an impertinent question. But Anryn’s face and voice displayed obvious respect and Hywel bowed his head a little in acknowledgement.
‘I have tried to see into this, comrades, and I confess it is not clear to me. When I look on young Taliesyn my fear is of his being too much influenced by others. With Karadoc I see the danger of his rekindling old enmities as a way to prove his own strength.’
Gawan nodded slowly. Taliesyn, for all his experience, was still very young for such an honour, and if he did indeed favour the Caledon that could be both good and bad. Unity before the Gaians was vital of course, but many would resent the alliance and it would be hard work to convince them of its wisdom. On top of that Taliesyn had fought only a few battles, and with the Dariniae in chaos the Gorvicae needed a strong leader with a good fighting reputation. Karadoc could be just that, but he was a hard and unbending man, and Gawan remembered how he resented not being named to the Gadarim. He would still carry a younger man’s need to prove himself which could lead to all manner of trouble.
Rylion interrupted his thoughts but he addressed his words to Hywel.
‘You say Karadoc would end our union with the Caderyn, would that be so bad?’
