Celtika (38 page)

‘I very much like the sound of your land,’ Brennos said thoughtfully.

Urtha could hardly restrain his pride. He said, ‘I would be honoured to have you as a guest in my fort. My house is entirely at your disposal. The hunting in Alba is swift and clever, unsurpassable; and close to the river there is an orchard that is always in fruit.’

‘And if I came with a hundred men, you could accommodate us all?’ Brennos asked. ‘Without thinking we had come to invade?’

‘Come with a thousand,’ Urtha bragged. ‘We’ll feast on deer-flesh and partridge for a full cycle of the moon, and then raid to the south for some of the strongest bulls you’ll ever have seen. Southerners are not up to much, but they do breed wonderful bulls.’

‘Your fort must be one of the largest I can imagine. I’m impressed by the sound of it. When this jaunt is over, I’ll bring that thousand men, and enjoy your hospitality. Thank you. And thank you, again, for the spark that lit the fire. That charge. I will always acknowledge when a good action, spontaneously taken, breaks through my own uncertainty. That was a charge to remember. And your charioteer was like a screeching owl, but more desirable. The memory of her will linger the longest. Is she your sister?’

Urtha said nothing, just stared ahead as he rode next to the warlord. Brennos glanced back at me with a quick smile, realising that he might be straying on to delicate ground. In fact, I realised at once that quite a lot of the conversation was a typical tease. Brennos would have known that Urtha was exaggerating the hospitality and size of his stronghold. And a thousand men, crossing the sea to ride to Urtha’s land, would certainly have been seen as an invasion.

But Urtha needed something; and if Brennos knew it, he was making it as easy as he could for the brash young Cornovidian.

‘She is not my sister,’ Urtha said after a while. ‘She is from east of here, where according to the Hittites…’

‘Hittites?’

‘Gossips. Liars. They claim the women of her race—the Scythians—cut off their breasts to facilitate the use of a bow.’

‘Now
that
is something I’ve heard about. But though your charioteer wasn’t plump, from what I saw—’

‘As I said, Lord Brennos. These tales are lies. Ullanna—that’s her name—has been aiding me in a very personal task. There is a man, riding somewhere in your army…’

Brennos reined in and waved a warning hand. ‘If you’re going to say you wish to kill someone, the answer is no. Gods, we’ll have a hard enough time getting to that snake hole, Delphi, without stopping every hour for some combat, some revenge joust, over the taking of a horse or the killing of a dog.’

The two men glared at each other. Urtha was red-faced and furious. Brennos was white-faced and cold.

Riders and chariots continued to stream past us. Somewhere, a wagon turned over and dogs barked fiercely as they darted for some of the spilled meat. A man rode up to Brennos, took one look at him, turned and cantered away.

Then Urtha said, very quietly, ‘His name is Cunomaglos. He is somewhere in this horde.’

‘There will be a hundred men with a name like that. In this horde.’

Undaunted by the cold suppression of his unspoken request, Urtha said, ‘I was afraid for the future of my land. I listened to false advice, and abandoned my fort. I looked for answers in the world when I should have looked for the truth in my family itself. Does this mean anything at all to you, Lord Brennos?’

‘It does,’ the warlord answered with the merest nodding of his head.

Urtha said, ‘When I was away, Cunomaglos and others came to join this expedition. They left my fort unguarded. I live at the edge of Ghostland. Not everything in Ghostland is friendly to the living. Does this mean anything to you, my Lord Brennos?’

‘It does,’ Brennos answered, leaning on his saddle, looking down. ‘More than you might think.’

Urtha said, ‘My wife is dead, my son is dead, killed by a force of evil that I will not understand until I can return and seek it out. But I cannot return until Cunomaglos has answered for his desertion. If he had stayed true to me, my family would now be mocking me, for being a fool, and laughing at my blustering apology … not waiting by Ghostland’s river for news that their deaths have been avenged, so they may creep back into the world of shadows.’

Brennos stared at me for a moment, an unnerving gaze. Then he said to Urtha, ‘Did you seek out this army to find
me?
Or to find this Cunomaglos?’

‘Cunomaglos. All other considerations, for the moment, are in winter hibernation.’

‘How will you find him?’

‘Two old friends will sniff him out,’ Urtha said, and he raised his arm. I heard the growl and bark of hounds, and suddenly Gelard and Maglerd appeared through the moving ranks, restrained on leashes by a sallow youth, cropped hair, pale-faced, dressed in brightly coloured trousers and shirt.

‘Is that a man or a woman?’ Brennos asked with a laugh as this slim, solemn figure stood beside him, whispering quiet words to the panting dogs.

‘Neither,’ Urtha said. As he said the words, fierce-eyed Niiv glared at him, but for a moment only. Her frosty, angry look was saved for me.

Brennos called one of his captains to him, a squat man, cheerfully featured, his face covered with a ginger stubble, though his moustaches were preened and sharp, reaching below his chin. He was wearing the colours of the Tectosages.

‘This is Luturios,’ Brennos said to Urtha. ‘This is Urtha,’ he said to Luturios. And then again to my friend: ‘Find your Cunomaglos. Sniff him out. Do you think he knows you’re here?’

‘He soon will.’

‘Well, I can’t afford to have men watching their backs all the time. Find him, and Luturios and his squad will cull him from the pack. In a few days we’ll reach the sea. I will make a single exception for you, Urtha. At the sea, if you’ve found this wife-killer, you may fight him. And I’ll not stop that combat. And I’ll wait until that combat is finished. If you try to finish it before we reach the sea, Luturios will have a say in the matter. Luturios is very efficient at having such “says” in the matter.’

‘I’ll cut your fucking throat,’ Luturios said, by way of clarification, though he smiled as he said it.

Urtha bowed in the saddle, then turned his horse and rode away from us, following Niiv, who was running with the hounds down through the column.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The Combat of Urtha and Cunomaglos

Urtha sought me out later, trotting beside me on a fine black horse as we clattered along a dry river-bed.

‘I want to find him myself,’ he said. ‘It may sound strange, but I need that moment of recognition. I need to see the look in his eyes as he sees me, and realises that I’ve come for him. If I know Cunomaglos, it will be fear, not mockery, that greets me.’

I hadn’t been about to offer my services, beyond helping ride through the lines, but I guessed that Urtha was dissuading me from doing him a favour with charm.

I nodded my agreement.

‘Why fear?’ I asked him.

‘Because the man was a man of honour, and he loved me as a brother. And betrayal will have been a spectre on his back from the moment he left the land.’

There was no arguing with Urtha’s certainty. ‘You must ask me for whatever help you need,’ I said.

‘Search with me. Stay close. The dogs will sniff him out.’

Niiv had slipped away again. She was keeping at her distance. When Urtha had found the abandoned chariot, still harnessed to its horses, he and Ullanna had used it to get ahead of the others, but had taken Niiv with them—she was so light she hardly troubled the animals that pulled them. The dogs had scampered behind.

After the day’s pause, to confront a local army, however, the others of our crew had caught up, and Maglerd signalled their discreet arrival with a cheerful series of whines and howls. Rubobostes and Tairon came to our fire sometime in the middle of the night. The Cymbrii arrived soon after with the cart and Argo’s heart. Then Manandoun and Cathabach and the Germanii. Michovar, it seemed, had turned back after all.

And Jason?

‘We lost him about two days ago,’ Manandoun said. ‘He took the strongest horse and rode towards the west. He seemed excited about something.’

‘That rider,’ Tairon added. ‘The young man who called to him. He seemed to know him.’

A rider had appeared on a rocky ridge, among wide-branched pine trees, and called to Jason. Jason had been transfixed by the vision, then powerfully determined to find out who the young man was. He had taken very little, apart from the horse, and galloped up the slopes. That was the last they’d seen of him.

I asked an innocent question: concerning the sighting of birds at the time.

Tairon frowned and shook his head, but Manandoun scratched his jaw, thought hard, then answered, ‘A few sparrows, or whatever passes locally for sparrows; and a rook, or some great black bird, a solitary thing. I’ve seen it before. I think it’s following the army, probably feeding on the dead.’

I smiled at that.

Feeding on the dead? Protecting a young life from the
risen
dead, more like.

Urtha could see that I was unnerved by this news. When everyone was settled he whispered, ‘Is Jason in difficulty?’

‘He’s been tricked,’ I answered. ‘He thinks he saw his son. The question is, how quickly will he realise the fact; and where will he go next?’

‘To Delphi?’ the Celt suggested.

Yes. Probably to Delphi. If Medea didn’t lead him to destruction first.

Urtha drew his polished sword, rested it in his hand. ‘I remember thinking that I would use this without hesitation on that strange man, your old friend, old Lake Corpse. I was angry with him. But once the business with the dog-bastard is over, I’ll use this iron to help him in any way I can. This is not wholly altruistic, I hope you’ll understand. I’ve invited Brennos and a thousand of his men to come and stay in my stronghold. To feast on deer-flesh and partridges, if I remember myself and my large mouth correctly. That was a little rash, I think. Jason might be useful to have around.’

‘He certainly was, seven hundred years ago,’ I said, and Urtha nodded, as if nothing could have been more obvious.

*   *   *

The earth began to shake. The night sky was black, star-speckled, and the air filled with the scent of cedar and lavender. To wake in such a land is to wake as if newly born; there is a blossom of dew on the cheeks, cold wind in the head, and a vigour in every limb. That hour before dawn! If dark Hades was as charged with life as this moment in the day, no Greeklander would ever regret dying.

The sun spread like fire to the east, above the tree-lined hills, picking out the shapes of rock and ridge, the old face of the world. I welcomed it, I remember welcoming it on that second day back with Urtha, as if there was a new season to the heart.

I kicked him in his blanket. The Cymbrii were up and ready. Niiv was silent, pale face glowing in the dawn below her shorn head. She watched me like a cat, but turned her gaze away when I threatened anger.

Earth shaking!

After a night on the march, we had had a night of rest. Now the ten times ten thousand men and women in the army of Brennos moved again through the land, towards the promise of sea; to the certainty of death for many of them at Thermopylae; to the promise of rescue at Delphi.

And as this great horde moved sluggishly to the south, Urtha and I, and Rubobostes on a lighter horse than his adored Ruvio, and Manandoun and Cathabach, faithful knights, rode steadily in the other direction.

Looking for a hound with the face of a handsome man, and the heart of a bastard.

*   *   *

If we had had a jug of milk for every time we heard the words, jokingly expressed, ‘You’re going the wrong way. Delphi is south…’ we could have covered Greekland with cheese.

Day after day we rode through and across the ponderous mass of mounted men, and men on foot, and trailing beasts, scampering children and lumbering wagons.

Wherever we went it was assumed we were bringing information, or instructions, or orders for battle. Those at the back of the three columns had already created a great exaggeration from the fierce battle that had occurred at the front. They had seen the burial mounds, and smelled the fires. They had been aware of the dead. But they had passed, belatedly, over the bloody ground and only imagination had been their guide to what had happened in the distance from them.

Maglerd and Gelard scampered and prowled between the creaking wheels and tired legs. They were popular dogs. Whole platoons of heavily armed men would suddenly stop, crowd around the great beasts and start to play. They were missing their own animals. Maglerd and Gelard relished the attention, until Urtha’s hard voice cut through their fun, and with slightly guilty, lolling looks, they returned to the hunt.

It was the dogs that made us accepted and welcomed as we searched through the clans, and asked for passing hospitality.

Then the day came, as I’d known it would, when the hounds looked fierce, their shackles rising, their red maws flecked with spittle. I could smell them, even though they were standing a hundred paces away, staring down the line. Maglerd had dropped to a crouch and Gelard was so tense that I thought the poor beast would crack across the ribs. A hundred or so horsemen were riding past us, and from their shields I guessed them to be Avernii, from western Gaul, close to the sea that separated them from Urtha’s land. They were drooping and tired, dragging five cows and some weary horses. But among them, shrunk into their own horses, were a group of men who seemed to carry no colours at all. They had streaked their hair white, though the spines had collapsed slightly. They all seemed ill. Their cloaks were dark coloured, and it was strange to see them wearing them, because the days were hot, now, and most of the army rode or walked in very light dress indeed.

Urtha stopped one of the Avernians.

‘Do you know the names of the other men who ride in your ranks?’

‘From near to Ghostland,’ the warrior said, looking Urtha up and down suspiciously. ‘They brought some fine horses, and some excellent cows. We’ve traded in the past. They are fine men. Why do you ask?’