Leaping Wolf, page 3
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
Lucan shook his head.
‘No. It’ll make your insides all bad.’
Meghan smiled knowingly.
‘You could say the same of too much strong ale and milkwine but that has not stopped him yet!’
Owain simply smiled and shrugged but Lucan gave them both a confused look. Rhia wondered if she ought to try to explain but then the boy decided it didn’t really matter.
‘That one there is a bower-leaf...’
He carried on like that, revelling in showing them all how much he’d learned, and requiring only a smile or the occasional ‘yes’ to keep him going. Rhia smiled at his efforts, glad that his grasp of his native tongue was so good. He’d been born in Tamora and had spoken Vulgare for most of his short life, and though Rhia had made sure to teach him the Lurian tongue when she could, she had worried that he would struggle to speak it all the time. But the boy was clever, and he liked to talk, and on the rare occasions when he struggled for words most Caderyn knew enough Vulgare that he was still understood. The Gaian language had been a wise thing to learn during the occupation.
Rhia’s mood was in danger of dipping again but Owain’s question took her mind from it.
‘So, are you feeling nervous?’
He was referring of course to her Gadarim tests. In truth Rhia was indeed feeling anxious about them, but she was not about to show him her fears. Instead she smiled.
‘Maybe a little, but then if you can do it surely anyone can?’
Owain grinned at her. As the new First Man of her tribe’s Gadarim he would preside over the rituals that would confirm her within the warrior elite. She had already been named to them, and already she had blue battle-marks tattooed around her forearm, but nonetheless traditions had to be honoured. She looked at Owain and couldn’t help but compare the tiny dragon and lion chasing each other around her wrist to the dozens of swirling battle-marks that covered the veteran’s body. Owain’s marks covered both his arms and his hands and she knew that beneath his tunic they spread across his chest as well. And every mark hard-won in battle.
The needle allowed them to be more intricate than the painted woad worn by other warriors, though mostly his tattoos were of the same simple patterns, the occasional lightning-bolt being the most detailed design he wore. Though she’d seen the occasional dragon tattoo before, Rhia had been unusual in requesting specific animals to be marked on her. She wondered briefly if it would start a trend, but then she remembered that things like whims of fashion were things of the Gaian world. Even now it sometimes felt odd to be away from that society, where every day some new dress or exotic dish became something of vital importance, only to be forgotten again before the moon had turned. Meghan chuckled a little beside her, bringing her mind back to the present.
‘My man is strong at least, we must give him that. Though whatever else these tests are, you can be sure there will not be too much thinking involved!’
Having once spied on the Gadarim rituals in her youth Rhia had a pretty good idea of what to expect from them, but the memory of it still made her feel ashamed and she’d never spoken to anyone about it, not even to Meg. The stocky Gadarim shrugged.
‘I leave the thinking to the druids. Fighting and rutting are what I do best.’
Meg frowned at him a little and looked significantly at Lucan, but the boy was still merrily pointing out flowers to anyone who would listen and clearly hadn’t taken in what was said. All the same Owain took the hint and changed the subject back to something more suitable.
‘You have fought in three battles now, yes? At Broken Stream and then twice at Nantwyn?’
Rhia nodded and Owain furrowed his brow a little, glancing at her forearm.
‘Given how well you fought and the size of the last two, I would say you have earned enough to mark the rest of that arm, perhaps even on to the upper chest as well?’
Rhia nodded again, wondering what exactly the Gadarim rules were for permanent battle-marks. Owain’s body was liberally covered in them, and Gawan’s even extended to coil around one half of his face. Rhia pressed her lips together for a moment. She always felt confused when she thought of the Gorvicae First Man. On the one hand it was he who had named her to the Gadarim, and she was grateful, but on the other he would always be the man who had killed Dane all those years ago. The memory of that black day threatened to invade Rhia’s thoughts, despite her best efforts. He had wounded Bevan as well of course, though his death had been no fault of Gawan’s. Nor of mine, Rhia told herself firmly, and nor was what happened afterwards!
Once again it was Meghan who called her back to reality, giving her man a mock-chiding look as she spoke.
‘You keep your eyes off her chest Owain!’
Rhia was of slim build and far from voluptuous, especially next to Meghan, but the Gadarim gave her a quick stare out of pure cheek before transferring his gaze to the redhead’s impressive bust.
‘As you say.’
Rhia laughed and even Meghan struggled to keep up her disapproving expression. The two were clearly in love and Meg had confided in Rhia that Owain had asked her to kiss palms with him on their return to Bryngarth. They would need to ask Reaghan if the omens were good of course, though with the senior druid having ridden off west a few days ago they might have to consult with Bael instead. Rhia was wondering if the younger druid might end up performing the ceremony when a shifting of weight on her pony made her start, and before she knew what was happening Lucan had slipped from the horse’s back and was scurrying from the path, heading towards a little clump of field-lilies.
For an irrational second Rhia panicked and almost grabbed for him, but she restrained herself with an effort. He is among friends on a slow walk across a field, no-one is going to hurt him. Rhia took a couple of deep breaths as Lucan paused to pick a handful of golden flowers. Owain was beside him in moments and casually scooped the boy up and onto his own mount. Lucan was completely unconcerned and started chattering away to him about the field-lilies he was holding.
‘I’ll give these to mama later, and she’ll like them because they’re rare.’
He spoke the word with a very serious face and seemed to be waiting for Owain to ask him what this word meant; Lucan had clearly not known it for long. Owain shared a smile with Rhia before playing along with him.
‘What does that mean?’
The boy embarked on a very patient explanation to the Gadarim and Meghan spoke quietly to Rhia, not wanting to interrupt.
‘He is adorable, Rhia.’
Rhia smiled and whispered back.
‘I know. But I do worry for him so.’
The redhead placed a gentle hand on hers.
‘I can understand your worry, after all that you’ve lost. But he is safe with us.’
Rhia nodded a little, agreeing without being entirely comforted. Meg was right; having lost so much Rhia often felt that Lucan was all she had left. He had his mother’s blue eyes but beyond that he was the very image of his father, and the thought of Marius threatened to bring tears to her eyes again. She shook off the thought of him. There would be time for grieving later.
She sighed and half-listened as Lucan’s high voice went on. Yes, my son and my duty are all I have left. And that duty will be his one day. Though she was calling a moot to confirm it out of courtesy, Rhia was the accepted heir of Carradan and one day Lucan would be hers. He would be the half-Gaian chieftain of the Caderyn and perhaps even of all the Caledon. My little boy may be the best chance that we have of living together in peace. Rhia half-smiled. The child earnestly teaching Owain about yellow wildflowers would one day be the great hope of his people. Her smile became a frown as she was struck by conflicting emotions. She wanted her boy to grow up brave and strong and be the chieftain he was born to be, yet at the same time she wanted nothing more than for him to stay as he was right now; a chatty little boy with no more cares in his heart than to remember which flower was which.
Rhia blinked a few times and tried to clear her head of all that. She tried to push away her worries about her responsibilities and her son’s; tried not to think about the looming Gadarim tests and the dreadful duties that awaited her when she reached Bryngarth. It was a fine day in Caderyn land and she was surrounded by her friends and by her precious boy as they made their aching way back to her home. Enjoy the simple pleasures of a quiet ride, my girl. You’ll be missing them soon enough.
*
They had arrived earlier than she’d expected but much had been prepared already. The line of torches had been lit, the mourners gathered, and the barrow made ready to receive the last High Chieftain of the Caderyn. Rhia was tired and tearful, as were most of her people, but she had sworn to herself that she would do this before anything else, and so she set her jaw and stood up straight as the tears ran silently down her cheeks.
They were standing at the bottom of the town’s north-western slope, the sky blood red as Belenos sank on the horizon. The green of the grass was slowly turning to grey and the unmistakable smell of early evening mixed in with the smoke from the torches. Bael was standing in front of the chieftain’s barrow, a solemn expression on his young face. Rhia wished that Reaghan could have been here for this. The elder druid had been a father to them all and had known Carradan since the chieftain was young. But none were certain where exactly Reaghan had gone. Aside from a vague comment about communing with the gods he’d given no explanation for where he was going, and if Bael knew anything he had not shared it. Rhia suspected that he knew where his senior had gone but for all their benevolent nature the druids were still secretive, and what little she knew of their ways she struggled to understand.
Bael was dressed in his flowing white robe, his feet bare and his oak staff held in his hand. Rhia couldn’t help but think that, were it not for the darkness of his beard, the young man might have passed for Reaghan in this half-light. Both had beak-like noses and piercing blue eyes, and both projected the same aura of calm authority. Bael was shaking his staff and making the iron rings on it jangle, chanting slowly in the ancient tongue as the body was brought forward. Only the druids truly understood the old language, and though Rhia knew the odd word she couldn’t hope to follow what he said. She knew it was a blessing though, and that was all that mattered.
Rhia cast her eyes across the green-grey humps that were the barrows of her people’s chiefs. She looked out past them a little further to the humbler graves of Bryngarth’s people, mainly as a way to put off having to turn around. She didn’t want to look at the wooden frame that was being carried towards them. She clenched her fists as subtly as she could. You are no coward and you owe him better than this. Turn and look at him. Rhia tore her eyes from the distant landscape and looked back towards the huddle of her people. A red cloak had been placed over her father’s body but just knowing that he was under there was enough to make her want to sob. Carradan had been so strong, so assured. A big man with a big heart, the High Chieftain had taken good care of his tribe, and had loved his family as dearly as any man could love anything. He’d been wise in peace and fearsome in war, and had been named to the Gadarim when still a very young man. The name Charging Bull had been renowned throughout the tribes, and even among his enemies he had been treated with respect. Until Sedryn, the honourless son of Baercban, had stabbed him in the back in his own hall.
Rhia fought back her anger and tried to maintain her composure. No Lurian would judge another for weeping at their father’s death but Rhia knew that if she dwelt on it she might end up screaming in rage. Sedryn, she hated even his name, had gone against everything his people had stood for and even his own father had been ashamed at what he’d done. Not enough to stand aside though. But then would I step aside and let him be killed if Lucan did something so shameful? If anything that thought was more unwelcome than her grief and she shoved it away, focusing on the covered corpse that had once been Carradan.
The Gadarim of the Caderyn bore him up to the entrance to the barrow and paused before the holy man. Bael continued his muttered chants, waving his hands over the body while he jangled the rings on his staff. After a few moments he stopped and raised his arms above his head, speaking in common Lurian in a loud but unstrained voice.
‘Carradan son of Cadog, the Charging Bull, will tonight cross over to the green pastures of the Otherworld. May Father Camelas and Mother Marna look upon him with favour, and may Annwn and Damara both greet him as a friend. May he cross the bridge unharmed.’
Rhia joined the others in placing a hand to her chest and echoing the blessing.
‘May he cross unharmed.’
Bael nodded.
‘Bring forth your gifts.’
Men and women stepped forwards carrying great wicker baskets full of offerings. Every soul in Bryngarth had given something to their chieftain for his journey to the next world, each man according to his means. There were loaves of bread and wheels of cheese, strings of sausages and bowls of oats, chickens, eggs, sheaves of wheat, jugs of milk, and a huge barrel of finest mead with a gold-banded drinking horn on top of it. The opening to the barrow was not large but it was big enough that Bael and the Gadarim were able to carry them inside where they would sustain Carradan on his final journey. Bryngarth’s Gaian administrators, who’d remained at Rhia’s order after the enforcers left, had on their own initiative collected a small number of silver coins and these too were placed in the barrow. Rhia doubted her father would be needing them in the Otherworld but it was a kind offer and she had thanked them accordingly. Even their occupiers had wanted to show respect to the great man.
After that, and a few more blessings from Bael, came the moment she had been dreading. Stepping forward she took hold of the wooden frame along with Olwyn and Myrna, their mother, with Owain and the Gadarim assisting them. Even with help it was heavy, holding a big man dressed in furs and thick bracelets, and the golden torque he had never worn in life, but Rhia didn’t let the strain show as she carried her father to his grave. The opening to it was dark and, though she was loathe to admit it, terrifying, but Bael went before them with a torch in his free hand, chanting all the while in words she didn’t understand. Ugly, cold thoughts threatened to invade her mind and Rhia tried to shut them away. She tried hard not to think of her own death, or to dwell on the fact that she would never hear her father’s voice again in this world. It was difficult, very difficult, and she felt her hands begin to shake despite herself. Rhia snarled quietly and clenched her free hand into a fist. She was here to honour her father; that was what she should focus on.
They placed Carradan with his feet facing west, that he might look up to see through the barrow wall to the red-and-gold sunset beyond. They said the Soul Bridge could be found to the west if a man sailed far enough, but as yet none had found it and come back to tell the tale. But then, who would? Last of all, Owain placed Ironhorn beside its former master.
‘You lived and died with honour, Charging Bull. Mabonac is made proud.’
When Carradan met Annwn he would hand him his sword, and the God of Death would hold it and know what deeds it had performed. Carradan had always been noble and had never used the weapon unjustly, and Rhia knew beyond a doubt that Annwn would smile when he held the blade. And then my father will leave it with him and walk on into the Otherworld, where none will ever need to hold a sword.
Rhia felt more tears coming as the Gadarim blessings were made, and she made no effort to hold them back. She held hands with Olla and her mother for a few moments and all three cried together as they looked down at the body. Their family had known so much grief already that Rhia sometimes thought they should be immune to it by now. But her mother, wise woman that she was, had said that only through grief could they truly know how much they had loved. Horrible though it was Rhia could not deny the truth of it. She wept on.
After a few moments Bael gently ushered them out and the three women emerged onto the grass. Rhia looked to where Lucan and Siriol stood, neither child really knowing what was going on but knowing well enough that it was something sad and serious. She looked at her son’s face and once again saw Marius there, and when Bael gave her the nod it was a moment before she was able to speak. Lurian funerals did not require the oratory of Gaian ones but nonetheless it was only right that she make a blessing.
‘Fellow Caderyn, tonight we mourn for Carradan son of Cadog. He was my father, and a father to us all. He was noble and strong, and we can best honour him by living as he did. Let us weep for his death but take solace in his life, for he was a good and joyous man, let us remember him as such.’
She wasn’t sure what more she could add to that but it didn’t seem like there was much more to be said. Nothing that wouldn’t reduce her to more tears anyhow. And you’ve more to shed yet tonight. Once again she placed her hand on her heart and around her others did the same.
‘May he cross the bridge unharmed.’
The blessing echoed back at her and she stepped aside to let Bael continue his chants. He did not go on much longer and soon enough he was calling the family and Gadarim back to him and indicated the pile of stones that lay beside the entry. One by one, beginning with Myrna, they took up a stone and kissed it before placing it in the entryway. Olwyn went next with Rhia following, and as she placed the stone down she tried to remember Carradan’s smiling face, his booming laugh and his kindly eyes. She managed it for only a moment before the present came back to her again, and she stepped aside to let Owain pass. Slowly the stones piled up and the yawning opening to the barrow grew smaller and smaller. Rhia watched as her people walled her father in to his last resting place on this earth, and tried to brace herself for what would come next. Already she felt like she was standing neck-deep in a river and the current was buffeting her off balance. And there was more to come.
The barrow was sealed and there was a period of silence for all to give a last few thoughts to Carradan. Rhia had no idea if he could hear her before he crossed but she decided to try him anyway. Father... she wasn’t sure what she ought to say next and it took her a moment before she could continue. Father, I hope only to do as you did and lead the Caderyn and the others with fairness and wisdom. I could never hope to be the leader you were but I promise, she balled her fists again, I promise to try with everything I have. I know that is what you would have done. She paused another second, once again lost for words, and settled for the simplest thoughts that came to mind. I love you. I miss you. May I have even half of your strength or your kindness.
