Druids (43 page)

He came out roaring, a son of war and thunder.

“He will be a warrior like his father,” I told Lakutu as I put him into her arms for the first time.

I had seen to it that all possible precautions were taken to give the infant the best chance at life. We had commandeered every lamp in the fort, arranging them so no shadow would fall on his emerging head. Sulis had then bathed him in sacred water from the spring in the grove, Keryth had read his first omens in the afterbirth, and Aberth had taken it to feed to the fire in due sacrifice. The women had woven tiny bands for the child’s wrists from green twigs of rowan to protect him against malign spirits, and from holly to give strength to his arms. A miniature wreath of willow placed on his head ensured he would develop sharp night vision. Leaves of poplar scattered around him would ward off illness. Lastly, the massive gold arm ring of a warrior which had belonged to his father was laid at his tiny pink toes.

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Lakutu gave me a wan smile. She was frighleningly thin and weak. “My people do not do these things.”

“Tell me what your people do. I would be glad to learn of any helpful rituals.”

She looked vaguely around, then back to my face as the eager baby sucked ferociously at her nipple. ‘ ‘In my land is so different. No man would be at birth.”

“In my land,” I told her, “we consider that a man is at least partially responsible.”

Briga chuckled. Sulis laughed outright.

“Among my people would be much wailing now,” Lakutu said, “for sorrows child will know in life.”

“Here,” I assured her, “we shall sing for joy.”

She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. “Let all be done your way. This my land now. These my people. Our clan,” she added, snuggling the child.

Crom Daral shall not have her after all, I decided.

Menua had taught simplicity, but I had a large talent for complicating my life.

hi the following seasons we Camutes grew accustomed if not resigned to the sight of Roman patrols in our land, though a deed like the attack upon the vineyard was not repeated. Some of our more reckless princes clamored to attack the interlopers, but Nantorus and my druids urged caution and they reluctantly withheld their hands. “The whole pot must boil over at once and destroy Caesar,” I told my people repeatedly.” A few scalding drops will only anger him and encourage him to crush the Camutes as he has so many other tribes.”

We found an unexpected ally. Caesar’s attention was distracted from central Gaul by the Germanic tribes of the Usipetes and the lencteri, who crossed the Rhine in large numbers near the seacoast. Once again, lesser tribes were fleeing the savage dep-redations of the Suebi.

Caesar joined his army very early in battle season, and entertained Germanic envoys who were supposedly suing for peace. There were the customary accusations and denials, then skirmishes, then an all-out war along the Rhine.

When his troops were finally victorious, Caesar turned his gaze in a new direction.

Rix himself brought me the news, riding that big black stallion of his up to the gates of the fort and bellowing my name so everyone in the fort heard him. He had a party of mixed warriors

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as escort, most of them Arvernian but a few from the other tribes who had given him their support.

Every time I met Rix he looked older, more weathered and drawn. Yet conversely he had more vitality than ever. Being in his presence was like warming oneself by a roaring fire.

As I was welcoming him to my lodge, I noticed nun running appreciative eyes over Briga, who smiled back. Then he gave a start of surprise when he recognized Lakutu. “She’s so changed, Ainvar! And what’s she doing here? I thought she married our friend Tarvos.”

I explained what had happened. He insisted on seeing Tarvos’s son, who was lying asleep amid a pile of furs on Lakutu’s bed. “No wonder this lodge smells of sour milk and urine,” Rix laughed as he bent over the little warrior.’ ‘I never quite imagined you living like this, Ainvar.”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” I told him.

“The princes of a few tribes stiU take more than one wife, of course, but…”

“I haven’t married Lakutu. I’m taking care of her and the boy for Tarvos’s sake.”

Rix raised a dubious eyebrow. Seeing Lakutu through his eyes-thin, graying, her breasts sagging from nursing—and knowing that she could understand what was said, I felt a perverse desire to clothe her in beauty. “I might marry her,” I said defiantly. “Though you may not realize it, Rix, Lakutu is an extraordinary woman.”

I heard a swiftly indrawn breath.

Briga, who was gouging hunks of cheese out of a pot, said sharply, “I know the law. You have to have permission from the first wife before you can take a second wife.”

“When did you ever ask my permission about anything?” I countered.

Rix chuckled. “The two of you, bickering. Ah, Ainvar, this isn’t what I imagined for you at all.” He slapped his hands on his knees and let out a mighty peal of laughter.

When it subsided I tried to change the subject. “Surely you have women of your own, you understand how these things are.”

“I have any number. But I’ve only married one of them: the one who caused me the least trouble.” He was still grinning.

“You didn’t come here to talk about women with me.”

“Ah no.” His manner sobered. “Have you heard? Caesar has undertaken an expedition to the land of the Britons before the

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onset of winter. He sailed on one of his warships from the territory of the Morini, nearest Briton-land.’ *

“I hadn’t heard—but I don’t like it. How did you leam of this?’* “I’ve spent the summer quietly visiting the northern tribes, the ones Caesar has ‘pacified.’ I disguised myself and my men as traders”—he winked at me—“a ploy I learned from you, Ainvar. Though of course none of the tribes dare say so openly, I think most of them would stand with the confederacy in the event of an uprising. I’m certain of the Veneti, for one, and probably the Lexovii. It was they who told me about Caesar.”

“Briton-land,” I said gloomily, refusing the bread and cheese Lakutu was holding out to me. Suddenly I had no appetite. “Inhabited by Celtic tribes, Rix. Our people. Our druids even go there to study in the groves. Must Caesar crush every one of us beneath his heel?”

“I doubt if that’s his purpose,” Rix said, yawning. “He’s probably after tin, and whatever else his traders now have to pay the Britons for.”

“How large a force did he take with hun?” “Two legions, I was told. Over eighty ships.” I shuddered for the Britons. Until this year they had been free people, “At least,” I said to Rix, “while Caesar is busy with the Britons he is not savaging us, and we have more time to prepare.”

He nodded, but I did not think I-had his entire attention. His eyes were following Briga’s round little figure as she moved about the lodge.

And I saw her glance over her shoulder toward him.

WORKING TOGETHER IN easy harmony, the two women prepared a fine meal for us and we ate gustily. I told Rix he must come back when I could offer him Gaulish

W

wine.

“You’re still working on that project in spite of eveiything

else?”

“Of couree. My obligation is to make the earth fruitful for my people. This very morning we held a ceremony propitiating the local gods of field and stream so the land would bear a good crop

of grain.”

Rix made an impatient gesture, scattering crumbs from the slab of black bread he held. “I spent my time this morning a great deal more effectively, scouting your defenses before we came in. On this plain you can see an enemy approaching from a long way off, but he can also see you. You’re not making the most of the cover you have. You should have warriors in every clump of woodland, Ainvar, and a band of them on the ridge at all times, overlooking everything.”

“The ridge is the sacred center of Gaul,” I reminded him. “I will not station warriors in the grove.”

“You will if you want to protect it.”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Please yourself. But if you refuse to take advantage of such a fine natural lookout, at least have more warriors on the plain around it,’ *

I enjoyed a small smile. “There may be more fighting men there than you realize. With Roman patrols in the area I don’t want to appear openly hostile, so I have clothed our warriors as plowmen and herders and woodsmen-You passed a number of mem, you just didn’t recognize them.”

270

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“I should have known that head of yours would put you a pace ahead of me, “Rix said with a grin. He stretched out his long legs and sighed luxuriously, “It’s pleasant here with your women to wait on me.” He winked at Briga. “And I like not being on a horse for a change, not carrying that weight around.” He nodded toward the doorway, where his great iron-bladed hacking sword Stood propped against the wall.

“You still carry your father’s sword, I see.”

“Even when I’m in disguise, Ainvar. I always have it within reach.”

“Be careful it doesn’t give you away. Not many merchants wield two-handed swords with jewels in the hilt.”

“Ah, I’m careful enough. But I never forget who I am.”

“I should hope not,” I replied. His remark reminded me of another of my concerns. My people were changing; were being changed, a crucial difierence.

We were a people who sang. Yet we no longer surrendered to the spontaneous outbursts that used to occur for almost any rea-son, or just for the joy of living. My lyrical, generous, volatile, ebullient people were becoming cautious in company and suspicious of strangers; quiet, closemouthed, wary. Since the Romans had dared destroy a vineyard in the heart of Gaul, my people were not the same.

Keryth, as chief of the vates, had offered one explanation. “We planted the vines in that place originally because it was inhabited by a benevolent spirit who would encourage mem to grow and thrive. The invading Romans drove that spirit away; they frightened off many of our gentler nature gods. The people are reflect-ing the feelings of rape and impoverishment suffered by the land.”

I said nothing of this to Rix, who would have scoffed. But I rejoiced that he at least was unchanged.

I did not, however, like the way he kept watching Briga.

‘ ‘What are you going to be doing while Caesar is harassing the Britons?” I asked him.

“Making my endless rounds, trying to add to our allies,” he said with a mock-weary shake of his head. “It doesn’t seem to get easier.”

“Of course not. You won the easiest ones first; the last will be me hardest.” I understood the problem. The Celts had never had a sense of cohesion. To chieftains accustomed to autonomy the concept was absurd-Yet fortunately, some were finding the vital force of Vercingetorix irresistible.

I wondered if Briga would.

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“When are you going back to Gergovia, Rix?” I asked abruptly.

“We’re working our way in that direction now. I just thought we would rest here a few nights with you. My men are tired and we could use some fresh horses, if you have any to spare.”

“Are you certain that’s all you want here?”

* ‘What do you mean?”

“Ah … I’m only saying we don’t have much in the way of extra supplies. We can remount your men, but we have no horse that would be a suitable exchange for that black stallion of yours. *’

Rix laughed. “Don’t worry about him, he isn’t tired. And I wouldn’t trade him anyway. Whafs mine I keep.”

So do I, I vowed silently.

That night, with Rix sharing the hospitality of my lodge, I took Briga repeatedly, establishing my claim again and again so he could not help hearing.

He had no sooner ridden southward than I went to Sulis. I found her tending a man whose skin had begun to turn very yellow, a man who had lost his appetite. She had spread a layer of damp moss on his naked back as he lay on his belly, and was arranging heated stones in a pattern on the moss to stimulate the rivers of energy in his body to throw off the illness. We had used the same method to heal the ravaged earth of our vineyard. As the man lay drowsing, letting the cure do its work, I drew the healer aside.

“Sulis, is my wife barren?”

“Briga? Impossible. She is so full of the magic of life that it overflows. When we put one of her cloaks across a cow’s back the animal invariably has a healthy calf.”

“But she’s never conceived.”

“She’s probably giving too much of me magic away.”

“Help her then, Sulis. Redirect her gift to producing children

for herself.*’

The woman gave me a wry and knowing look. “That magnificent Arvemian came riding in here, looking like a sun god, and immediately you want your wife to swell up with children so she’ll be fat and clumsy. Men!”

Sulis always did have a nasty edge to her.

Caesar won a number of battles in the land of the Britons, we subsequently heard. For the most part, they were a backward

people. They still did much of their fighting from chariots, a style we had abandoned as too awkward for anything but display. Being Celts they fought valiandy, however, and much Roman blood was shed. The Romans did not achieve a total conquest of the island.

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At the end of the fighting season, Caesar returned to northern Gaul and then went on to Latium, as was his custom, leaving fortified winter camps in Belgic territory to receive the expected influx of hostages he had demanded from the Britons he had defeated.

We were gratified to leam that only two of the British tribes complied.

The next spring Caesar led four legions and eight hundred cavalry from his Belgic bases to the lands of the Treveri, west of the Rhine. The Treveri were said to have good relations with some Germanic tribes. Caesar demanded they submit to him. Indutiomarus, a powerful Treveran prince, refused. At swords’ point, Caesar’s men took all his clan. including his sons, as hostages to ensure he would not join (he Germans in an uprising. Then Caesar sailed back to the island of the Britons with more warships and an expanded fighting force.