Leaping Wolf, page 44
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
Alraig and Caserach both spoke at once but they were saying the same thing.
‘You are not Caderyn!’
Rhianwyn was looking at him oddly as well but Gawan didn’t pause.
‘But I am Caledon.’
Alraig’s voice was that of a man addressing a dim-witted child.
‘The Caledon has no First Man, and without a leader such a thing cannot be made.’
Gawan fumed for a moment but then Merwyn spoke from behind the high table.
‘If the Breiryn are willing to let Broad Kellas fight for another tribe, cannot the Gorvicae allow their First Man to fight for the Caderyn?’
He looked to where Taliesyn and Karadoc stood, and before they opened their mouths Gawan knew what they would say.
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
He frowned. There might be no official High Chieftain for his tribe but if both candidates had approved then even Alraig would have been forced to accept the decision. Gawan clenched his jaw. If he let Rhianwyn fight Caserach then her blood was on his hands; he had to be the one to take this trial. Broad Kellas was strong but he knew that he could beat him. But without the approval of the chiefs he would never be allowed to. He considered rushing Caserach and killing him right now but at best it would only buy them some time. Once it was done, and once Gawan had been cast out of the Gadarim, Broad Kellas would take news of the murder to the Breiryn and then there would be war. Gawan flicked a glance at Galerian, who had watched all this in silence as Derrio mumbled in his ear. He might still call in the Blackbirds to take Rhianwyn away, but if she was seen to cheat the trial there was a chance that that too might lead to war with the southerners.
Gawan racked his brains for a way around it until an idea came to him that was so simple, and so terrible, that for a moment he could not bear to say it aloud. It was unthinkable. But then he thought of seeing another woman choking on her own blood because of something he had done. Or not done. And the decision was made remarkably easy.
‘Then I set aside my tribe! I shall no longer be Gorvicae!’ He turned to face the Wildcat. ‘Rhianwyn daughter of Carradan, may I be Caderyn?’
The hall went dumb with shock and he saw faces turning pale, and he would not have been surprised if his own face was just as white. His stomach felt hollow and his legs were weak, and a coldness seemed to clutch his heart like the fingers of death itself. But Rhianwyn was smiling. In smiling her face went from merely attractive into something beautiful and Gawan felt warmth returning to his blood.
‘Of course you may, my brother Gadarim. The Caderyn would be proud to count such a man among our number.’
She lifted a hand as she looked around at the druids and headmen.
‘Leaping Wolf was once the First Man of the Gorvicae; I say let him be First Man of the Caderyn.’
Caserach spat from behind his fallen table.
‘You are no chieftain to say such things!’
But Bael’s mouth twitched up at one corner, his eyes knowing.
‘She is until Belenos rides to his summit today. As both High Chieftain and a Gadarim herself, I say it is for Rhianwyn and her brothers to decide such a thing.’
The young druid gave Gawan a look that he could have sworn contained something like pride before he turned around to face Kyran.
‘Bloodhound, First Man of the Dariniae, do you raise objection to this?’
The hard-faced Darin nodded to Gawan and gave Caserach a malicious half-smile before he answered.
‘I do not.’
Bael bowed his head in thanks.
‘And Broad Kellas, First Man of the Breiryn, do you raise objection to this?’
The big man shook his head at the druid, though his eyes were fixed on Gawan as he replied.
‘I do not.’
Bael looked around to address the whole hall.
‘So speak the greatest warriors of the Gadarim here present.’
Gawan felt his heart flutter in his chest. To be Gorvicae had meant everything to him but somehow, in this moment, that didn’t matter. Rhianwyn spoke again and the hint of joy in her voice made pride swell up within him.
‘Then let Leaping Wolf be my champion, and First Man of the Caderyn from this day forth. May he live and die with honour.’
Both Kyran and Broad Kellas spoke together, one with a hard smile and the other with a face as blank as stone.
‘May he live and die with honour!’
Chapter 38. The New Champion
Gawan felt strangely calm as he stepped into the dimming light. The day had seemed to take no time at all. It wasn’t a blur exactly; he could clearly remember everything that had happened, from his meeting with Bael to the gatherings of the tribe to the feast at the longhall, but somehow it also felt as if the time had sped past him. He took in a slow breath of cool air, glad that he hadn’t had too much to drink. Tomorrow would be a busy day and he had to make sure Heartreaver was properly blessed before he allowed himself to sleep.
He leaned on a post outside the doors of the longhall and listened to the muffled noise coming from inside. It was still almost completely filled with people, many of whom would end up sleeping on its floors, but Gawan had decided to sleep with the rest of the Gorvicae on the other side of town. It would be quieter there and he needed a clear head for the morning. The voices in the hall seemed happy enough as the tribesmen ate and chattered but he suspected the mood in the room was still tense. Men were relieved that a decision had been made at last but they were anxious for the fight the next day, and mixture of fear and uncertainty lay over their half-hearted merriment.
Gawan sighed quietly. It would have been simpler, and quicker, just to have held the trial straight after the sentence was announced. Everyone had been there after all and it would have spared them all this night of uncertainty. But Trials by Iron were rare things and traditions had to be upheld, and one of those traditions required a night to pass. As with the Gadarim trials, Mabonac’s rituals were best held away from Belenos’ light, and both Gawan and Broad Kellas would want their swords blessed. Druids might bless weapons before a battle regardless of time, but for a trial before the gods such formalities were more important. Before he slept tonight, Gawan would hold up Heartreaver in Leu’s silver light and ask Mabonac to be with him on the morrow. You might have lost your tribe, but at least you are still Gadarim.
That feeling was still a difficult one to get used to, and Gawan suspected that he never truly would. The reaction it had prompted from others had been unexpected enough, with most of the Caderyn welcoming him and most of the Gorvicae respecting his reasons, but it was the reaction in his own heart that was causing him confusion. He ought to feel more ashamed, shouldn’t he? For as long as he could remember the greatest source of pride in him was the knowledge that he was Gorvicae, and he had set that honour aside with barely a second thought. He felt a certain sense of loss, even something like grief, but it wasn’t nearly so crushing a feeling as he’d have expected. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad because he knew his winning this combat would help the Gorvicae in the long run. With Rhianwyn restored to the Caledon and Taliesyn as their chieftain, his people would prosper far more than if he allowed all this to fall apart, simply for the sake of his own pride. Perhaps this was part of the price he had to pay to atone for all the wrongs that still lay on his soul? When he met Annwn he wanted to be able to say that he had at least tried to do the honourable thing in life.
He let out another sigh, hoping that this was indeed the right thing to do. Besides his instinctive loyalty to the tribe, his one nagging doubt was the impact it would have on Tegwen. They had barely begun to know one another and here he was creating yet more distance between them. But what else could he do? How could he do the right thing by everyone? He closed his eyes in thought but opened them again almost immediately as he heard someone approach. He turned to see that, as if in answer to his thoughts, Tegwen had appeared in the doorway of the longhall. She closed the door gently behind her, shutting off most of the noise and heat that was coming from inside. Though they’d sat on the same bench to eat she had not spoken much, not even to Taliesyn, and a glance at her face had shown Gawan that she was troubled. She wore the same expression now and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.
‘Why?’
He shouldn’t have been surprised by her directness but all the same it took him a moment to answer her.
‘The Gorvicae are best served by Rhianwyn remaining as chieftain here. We need someone who can deal with the Gaians. And we need Taliesyn in Graigarw.’
She nodded and Gawan hoped rather than expected her to settle for that answer.
‘There is more to it than that.’
Gawan nodded back.
‘It is the right thing to do. Rhianwyn has done no wrong and I am the only one who could stand for her. We all of us owe her a debt, Tegwen; Lepidus would have destroyed us all had she not united us to fight him.’
He could tell that she’d heard the honesty in his voice but that she still wasn’t satisfied. Gawan found himself feeling both proud and annoyed that his daughter was apparently a perceptive woman. Her head tilted a fraction and he saw one eyebrow rise.
‘And that is all?’
Gawan didn’t want to say it aloud and it took an effort to meet Tegwen’s eyes as he answered.
‘I would see her safe.’
Tegwen nodded again and then jerked her head back towards the longhall.
‘I have heard good things about her. But is she worth your tribe? Or your life?’
Gawan shrugged and tried to avoid answering.
‘You think I would lose? I have fought big men before.’
In truth he was as wary of Broad Kellas as any sane man would be, but he was confident in his skills, and in the rightness of his cause. He might not escape unscathed but the Breiryn would lose, he knew that. He had to.
Tegwen’s face betrayed her worry, and Gawan felt a confusing mixture of warmth at her concern and guilt for having caused it. Her voice became quieter.
‘Perhaps.’
Gawan decided to take a risk and he seized her by the shoulders, looking hard into her eyes. So like her mother’s.
‘Tegwen, I can beat this man. I will beat this man and I will watch Belenos set with you tomorrow. I promise you.’
She seemed surprised by the contact but she neither flinched nor backed away from him. She met his eyes for a few moments and seemed about to speak but then lowered her gaze, looking uncertain. Gawan let her go, feeling suddenly awkward, and took a step back. After a tense few moments he decided it was best if he just left her in peace, but she broke the silence just as he turned.
‘Don’t do it, Father.’
Gawan’s breath caught in his chest. Hearing her say it made his heart pound faster than it ever had in the heat of battle. What did it mean? Did she truly want him to be a father to her? If that was so, how could he refuse the first thing she’d ever asked of him as his daughter? He looked on her face and part of him wanted to tell her that he would of course do as she asked; that he would abandon the challenge and take her away with him to some safe place. His name would be disgraced forever, and the three tribes might be plunged into chaos, but that part of him thought it would be worth it if it made his daughter smile.
But more important than making her smile was showing her that her father was a man who stuck by his commitments. A man she could trust. He had let her down before and while he could never go back to her childhood to make amends for it, he could show her that he had changed, even if it brought her more pain for now. To do as she asked would please her for a day and might even be his first step towards earning her love, but she was a warrior of her tribe in her own right, and sooner or later she would learn to despise him for running away. And love without respect was no more than pity.
He stepped close to her again.
‘I would never wish to cause you pain, but this must be done. I believe you know that it must.’
Tegwen’s eyes grew bright but no tears fell from them.
‘Perhaps it does. But tell me the truth,’ she squared up to him, ‘do you do this for the Caledon, or for the Wildcat?’
Gawan remembered how the Gaians had charged them at White Ridge, and that Tegwen had been there too, though he hadn’t known it. She had seen the threat that faced them all. She had fought against it the same as he had and she would understand the importance of the Caledon. If he reminded her of that black day and told her that unity was his greatest reason for doing this, there was every chance that she would believe him. But she had called him Father. And fathers should not lie to their children.
‘I do this for both. Both are in my heart, and both are worth fighting for.’
For a moment he thought she might say something harsh to him, but then she forced a half-smile.
‘As if anyone could talk you out of a fight anyway.’
Gawan could see just how forced it was and he let his own mouth quirk up in response. Perhaps it was what she needed to accept what was happening.
‘I never was bright enough to avoid them.’
Tegwen nodded to him and another awkward silence threatened. Gawan knew he ought to say something else to her but she began to turn back towards the longhall before he could think of anything. She placed a hand on the door but then spoke over her shoulder.
‘Call yourself what you will and fight for what you will, Father. I will be there.’
It was as close to approval as he was going to get and it clearly hadn’t been an easy thing for her to say. He owed her a reply.
‘I am Caderyn now and will serve my new tribe as best I can.’
He saw her turn to face him and he tapped his chest with a finger.
‘But the Gorvicae will always have a place in here. And so will you.’
Tegwen didn’t answer but the smile she gave him wasn’t forced this time, and Gawan felt a warmth in him to put all of Bael’s magics to shame. They exchanged a final nod before she went back into the hall. Once the door closed behind her Gawan turned towards the town. When all of this was done he would be a father to his child, perhaps even a father that she could love one day. But before he could do that there was a fight he had to win. And for that, he’d need to get a good night’s sleep.
*
After his third cup of mead beside the longhouse fire, Gawan told himself he really had to get to bed. He had only meant to stay with his brothers for a quick drink before going out to bless Heartreaver, but they had pressed cup after cup into his hands, Duran more than any of them. It had mainly been done in the spirit of friendship of course but Gawan knew the other reason behind the gesture. The fight tomorrow would be close, and they both knew it. Neither had gone so far as to say farewell, but this was as close as they were going to come to admitting aloud that this might be their final night together. On this side of the bridge anyway. So Gawan had stayed to reminisce and drink and listen to the friendly chatter. The others were all laughing as Duran finished his story.
‘I’ll say one thing though; the goats on that mountain are still nervous to this day!’
The group of Gadarim howled with laughter and even Gawan chuckled at the memory. Pryder was snorting his drink out through his nose, which of course only made the others chortle even more. Gwydion lost his balance and toppled sideways as he watched, but then he’d had a lot more to drink than the others had. Gawan smiled at his brothers. They had all of them been through some hard times together, he and Duran more than most, and it was good to share the night with them. Pryder and Gwydion had been listening with rapt attention as their seniors had told tales of fine times and hard fights in years gone by. Neither were exactly inexperienced of course; Gwydion had been Gadarim for almost as long as Duran, and though Pryder was young he’d fought like a hero in half-a-dozen battles. They were warriors who could be justly proud of who they were, but still they had sat in quiet awe as Gawan and Duran told their stories. Stories of twenty winters of raid and battle, of great victories and terrible defeats, and of the countless times the one had saved the hide of the other. Gawan bathed in the memories and would happily have stayed with them until dawn, but he had preparing to do and he needed to get some sleep.
Duran seemed ready to embark on another tale and Gawan raised an open hand to him.
‘You will have to tell this one without me, brother.’ He tapped Heartreaver’s hilt. ‘Blessings call.’
He eased himself to his feet and tried to ignore the ache in his knee as he straightened it. Duran nodded in understanding and the others followed his example.
‘As you say. But come for a last drink before you sleep. We still have to share the story of that miller’s girl in Henderw!’
Both Gwydion and Pryder sat up with interest and even Gawan half-smiled.
‘And I take it you won’t want to tell it without me here?’
Duran grinned.
‘Where would be the fun in that?’
Gawan shook his head in resignation and walked away, picking his way through warriors who either slept or chattered on the longhouse’s floor.
By the time he reached the door his bladder was telling him he had more urgent business than blessings just now, and he unbuckled his belt to ease the pressure on it. Carrying his belt and sword in one hand he pushed open the heavy door and stepped out into the night. The wind was chilly but if anything it just served to freshen him after the stifling heat of the longhouse.
He wandered a little way before untying his trews and drawing himself out to urinate. The relief was instantaneous and he watched the fluid arc away with a groan of contentment. Apparently he’d drunk more than he’d realised because it took a while for him to empty himself, but by the time he was done he was sighing with quiet satisfaction. His member was still in his hand when the arm wrapped around his throat, and he felt another man rip his sword from his grip while his neck was squeezed between bony forearms.
Gawan kept his head and though he was too slow to keep hold of Heartreaver, his elbow found the first man’s ribs before the strangler could take proper hold. He felt the grip weaken and he caught the man by the belt and elbow, hurling him into the path of the second attacker. In the darkness he could barely see his assailants but he aimed a kick in what seemed roughly the right direction and was rewarded by a grunt of pain. Then something struck him in the lower back and his torso arched backwards like a bow. Before he could fully face the new threat a fist had cracked into his jaw, followed swiftly by a pair of body blows. His head snapped to the side and his vision swam, but he managed to stay awake and lifted his arms up, dimly aware of two figures moving in front of him. The guard left his ribs open to more heavy punches but Gawan knew what he was doing; in any kind of fight, first priority was always to cover the head.
