Authors: Bernard Cornwell
“It is beautiful,” Saban said. He knew every stone. He knew which ones had been difficult to erect, and which had gone easily into their holes. He knew where a slave had fallen from a platform and broken a leg, and where another had been crushed by a stone being turned for shaping, and he dared to hope that all life’s hardships would end this day as Slaol seared to his new home.
Then someone shouted that the priests were coming and Saban hurried Lewydd out of the temple, leaving it empty. They pushed through the crowd to see that the procession was at last coming from the settlement.
A dozen women dancers came first, sweeping leafless ash branches across the ground, and behind them came drummers and more dancers, and then came the priests who had their naked skins chalked and patterned and wore antlers or rams’ horns on their heads. Last of all came a great band of warriors, all with foxes’ brushes woven into their hair and hanging from their spears. Saban had never seen weapons carried to a temple’s dedication, but he supposed that nothing about this evening would be the same for the crooked child was setting the world straight.
One of the approaching priests carried the tribe’s skull pole and Saban saw the white bone start and stop as the priests placated the spirits. They prayed at the place where a man had fallen dead, wailed to the bear god where a child had been mauled to death, then stopped at the tombs to tell the ancestors what great thing was being done at Ratharryn this day. The sight of the skull reminded Saban of his false oath and he touched his groin and prayed to the gods to forgive him. Beyond the approaching priests the smoke from the settlement rose vertically into the sky, which was still clear of clouds, though the first faint shadow of night was dimming the north.
The procession came on again, dropping into the valley then climbing between the banks of the sacred path. The crowd had begun to dance to the approaching drum beats, shuffling left and right, advancing and retreating, beginning the steps that would not end until the drums ceased.
Camaban and Aurenna had not come with the priests, who now spread themselves into a ring about the temple’s ditch while the dancers swept their ash branches all about the chalk circle to drive away any malevolent spirits. The warriors, once the circle had been swept, made a protective ring about the chalk ditch.
The women of Ratharryn sang the wedding chant of Slaol. They danced to their own voices, stopping when the song stopped, then stepping on again when the beautiful lament resumed. The music was so plangent and lovely that Saban felt tears in his eyes and he began to dance himself, feeling the spirit inside him, and all about him the great crowd was swaying and moving as the voices swelled and stopped, swooped and sang. The sun was low now, but still bright, not yet touched with the blood-red of its winter dying.
A murmur sounded from the back of the crowd and Saban turned to see three figures had emerged from Ratharryn. One was all in black, one all in white and one was dressed in a deerskin tunic. It was Lallic who wore the tunic, and she walked between Camaban and Aurenna who were arrayed in feathered cloaks. Camaban’s cloak was thick with swan feathers while Aurenna, her hair as bright as the day Saban had first seen her, was swathed in ravens’ feathers. White and black, Slaol and Lahanna, and Aurenna’s face was transfigured by a look of ecstatic delight. She was unaware of the waiting crowd or of the silent priests or even of the towering stones because her spirit had already been carried to the new world that the temple would bring. The crowd fell silent.
Camaban had ordered two new piles of wood to be made on either side of the temple, but well away from the stones, and a hundred men had labored all the previous day to rebuild what Derrewyn had burned. Now those new heaps of timber were set on fire. The flames climbed hungrily through the high stacks in which whole trees had been placed so that the fires would burn through the whole long midwinter night. The fires hissed and crackled, the loudest noise of the evening, for the drumming, singing and dancing had all stopped as the three figures came up the sacred path.
Camaban stopped by the sun stone, and Lallic, obedient to his muttered order, stood in front of the stone and stared toward the temple. “Your daughter?” Lewydd asked in a murmur.
“My daughter,” Saban confirmed. “She is to be a priestess here.” He wanted to walk closer to Lallic, but two spearmen immediately stepped into his path. “You must be still,” one said and lowered his spear blade so that it pointed at Saban’s chest. “Camaban insisted we must all be still,” the spearman explained. Aurenna was walking on into the long shadow of the stones and then she disappeared into the temple itself.
The crowd waited. The sun was low now, but the shadows of the temple did not yet stretch to the sun stone. There was a faint pinkness in the sky and the southernmost stones were touched with that color while the inside of the temple was already dark. The pattern of shadows was becoming clear as the stones took on depth when, from the temple’s darkened heart, Aurenna sang.
She sang for a long time and the crowd strained to listen for her voice was not powerful and it was muffled by the barriers of tall pillars, but those closest to the spearmen could hear her words and they whispered them on to the folk behind. Slaol made the world, Aurenna chanted, and made the gods to preserve the world, and he made the people to live in the world, and he made the plants and animals to shelter and feed the people, and in the beginning, when all that was made, there was nothing but life and love and laughter, for men and women were the companions of the gods. But some of the gods had been envious of Slaol for none was as bright and powerful as their creator, and Lahanna was the most jealous of all and she had tried to dim Slaol’s brightness by sliding in front of his face, and when that failed she had persuaded mankind that she could take away death if they would just worship her instead of Slaol. It was then, Aurenna chanted, that man’s misery began. Misery and sickness and toil and pain, and death was not vanquished for Lahanna had lied, and Slaol had moved away from the world to let winter ravage the land so that the people would know his power.
But now, Aurenna sang, the world would be turned back to its beginnings. Lahanna would bow to Slaol and Slaol would return, and there would be an end to the misery. There would be no more winter and no more sadness, for Slaol would take his proper place and the dead would go to Slaol instead of to Lahanna and they would walk in his vast brightness. Aurenna’s voice was thready
and sibilant, seeming to come disembodied from the stones. We shall live in Slaol’s glory, she sang, and share in his favor, and with those words the shadow of the topmost arch stretched to touch the sun stone and Slaol was poised, dazzling and terrible and vast, just above his temple. The evening was cooling and the first shiver of the night wind stirred the plumes of smoke from the fires.
Slaol is the giver of life, Aurenna sang, the only giver of life, and he will give us life if we give life to him. The shadow was creeping up the sun stone. All the ground between that stone and the temple was dark now, while the rest of the hillside was green with the year’s last light. Tonight, Aurenna sang, we shall give Slaol a bride of the earth and he will give her back to us.
It took a few heartbeats for those words to register with Saban and then he understood Lallic’s purpose, the same purpose that Aurenna had avoided at the Sea Temple in Sarmennyn, and he knew his oath was being returned to him in blood. “No!” Saban shouted, shattering the crowd’s solemn stillness, and one of the spearmen clubbed him on the side of the head with his spear staff. He struck Saban to the ground and the other man placed his blade on Saban’s neck. Camaban did not turn round at the commotion, nor did Lallic move; Aurenna went on undisturbed.
We shall give a bride to the sun, Aurenna chanted, and we shall see the bride return to us alive and we will know the god has heard us and that he loves us and that all will be well. The dead will walk, Aurenna sang, the dead will dance, and when the bride comes back to life there will be no more weeping in the night and no more sobs of mourning, for mankind will live with the gods and be like them. Saban struggled to rise, but both spearmen were holding him down and he saw that the sun was now hidden behind the topmost arch and blazing its light all around the temple’s outline.
Camaban turned to Lallic. He smiled at her. He raised his hands from under his white-feathered cloak and he gently untied the lace at the neck of her tunic. She trembled slightly and a whimper escaped her throat. “You are going on a journey,” Camaban soothed her, “but it will not be a long journey and you will greet Slaol face to face and bring his greeting back to us.”
She nodded, and Camaban pushed the deerskin tunic down over her shoulders and let it fall so that her white naked body shivered
against the gray of the sun stone. “He comes,” Camaban whispered, and from beneath his cloak he brought out a bronze knife with a wooden handle studded with a thousand small gold pins. “He comes,” he said again and half turned toward the stones and at that instant the sun lanced through the topmost arch of the temple to send a spear of brilliant light toward the sun stone. That ray of light, narrow and stark and bright, slid over the capstone at the far side of the sky ring, through the tallest arch and under the nearest lintel to strike against Lallic who shuddered as the knife was raised. The bronze blade flashed in the sun.
“No!” Saban shouted again, and the spearmen pressed their bronze blades against his neck as the crowd held its breath.
But the knife did not move.
The crowd waited. The beam of light would not last long. It was already narrowing as the sun sank toward the horizon beyond the temple, but still the blade stayed aloft and Saban saw that it was shaking. Lallic was shivering in fear and someone hissed at Camaban to strike with the blade before the sun went, but just as Hirac had been paralyzed by the gold on Camaban’s tongue, so Camaban himself was now struck motionless.
For the dead walked.
Just as Derrewyn had promised, the dead walked.
There was a small group of people at the end of the sacred avenue. No one had remarked on their presence, assuming they were latecomers to the ceremony, but they had stayed in the lower ground as Aurenna sang the story of the world. Now a single figure came from the group and climbed the sacred path between the white chalk ditches. She walked slowly, haltingly, and it was the sight of her that had stilled Camaban’s hand. And still he could not move, but only stare at the woman who advanced into the temple’s long shadow. She was swathed in a cloak made from badger skins and had a woolen shawl hooding her long white hair, and the eyes that peered from the hood were malevolent, clever and terrifying. She came slowly for she was old, so old no one knew how old she was. She was Sannas and she had come to collect her soul and
Camaban suddenly screamed at her to go away. The knife trembled.
“Now!” Aurenna shouted from the temple. “Now!”
But Camaban could not move. He stared at Sannas, who came to the sun stone. There she smiled at him and there was only one tooth in her mouth. “Do you have my soul safe?” she asked him in a voice that was as dry as bones that had been resting for generations in the dark hearts of their grave mounds. “Is my soul safe, Camaban?” she asked.
“Don’t k-k-kill me, p-p-p-please don’t k-kill me,” Camaban begged. The old woman smiled at him, then put her arms about his neck and kissed him on the mouth. The crowd stared in amazement; many recognized the old woman and they touched their groins and shook with fear. It was then that Lewydd shouldered aside the terrified guards holding Saban to the ground and Saban climbed to his feet, seized one of the guards’ spears and ran toward the sun stone where the ray of Slaol’s dying light was shrinking. “Now!” Aurenna shouted again, and the crowd was moaning and wailing in fear of the dead sorceress in her black and white cloak, and the spearmen did not dare interfere for they had seen Camaban’s horror and it had infected them.
Sannas took her mouth from Camaban’s lips. “Lahanna!” she prayed in her grating voice, “give me his last breath,” and she kissed him again and Saban thrust the spear with all his strength into his brother’s back. He did not hesitate, for it was his own oath that had endangered his daughter’s life and he alone could save her, and he struck high on Camaban’s back so that the heavy blade smashed through the ribs and into his heart. Saban screamed as he struck and the force of his killing blow drove Camaban forward so that he fell, dying, but with the woman’s mouth still on his.
Sannas clung to Camaban as they fell, then waited till she saw her enemy was truly dead before she pushed back her hood and Saban saw it was Derrewyn, as he had known it must be, and they stared at each other, blood on the grass between them and the light almost gone from the sun stone. “I took his soul,” Derrewyn whispered to Saban. Her hair was whitened with ash and her gums were still bloody where she had pulled out her teeth. “I took his soul,” she exulted. Just then Aurenna ran from the temple, screaming, and as she passed Saban she drew a copper dagger from beneath
her raven-black cloak. There was still a patch of light on Lallic’s face. The light shone on the sun bride and on the stone behind her, the stone which marked Slaol’s midsummer rising and served as a reminder to the sun god of his strength. Slaol could see the stone, could know his power, and by seeing what gift was brought to the stone he would know what his loving people wanted. And surely he would give it to them? In that belief Aurenna drove the green blade through her daughter’s throat so that the blood spurted out to spatter scarlet on Camaban’s white-feathered robe.
“No!” Saban shouted, too late.
“Now!” Aurenna turned to the sun. “Now!”
Saban stared in horror. He had thought Aurenna was running to rescue Lallic, not kill her, but the girl had collapsed at the stone’s foot and her slim white body was webbed with blood. She choked for a heartbeat and her eyes stared at Saban, but then she was dead and Aurenna threw down the knife and shrieked once more at Slaol. “Now! Now!”