The Making of the Lamb (27 page)

The group stood outside King Uryen’s banquet hall. “That went well,” said Daniel. “You don’t suppose we should go back in and see if someone will put us up for the night, do you?”

Pirro, oblivious to sarcasm, looked at Daniel with horror.

Jesus chuckled. Then he heard a man laughing behind him. He turned to face a tall British warrior. The man was in his late twenties. The gold torc around his neck indicated he was a man of some rank.

“I know you meant no harm or disrespect,” the warrior began. “Grannus was too hard on you. For someone so obsessed with protocol, he should have remembered to offer you shelter for the night. Allow me to make up for his oversight. You must stay the night with my family.”

Jesus made a little bow. “May I ask who offers such kind hospitality to ignorant strangers?”

“I am Fergus, son of Uryen.”

“The king’s son? You have more cause for anger than anyone in the hall,” said Daniel.

“It takes a noble and generous heart to welcome into your home such as we, who have brought on such disfavor,” added Fedwig.

“You flatter me and blame yourselves too much, my friends. In other circumstances the spice would have made a fine and worthy gift. I care little for omens. Come, we need to move along so my wife can prepare some beds before we lose the day.”

Fergus’s roundhouse was bigger than most, as befitted his station as heir to the king. His wife bade them welcome and started making up some bedding.

Fergus introduced another warrior, his cousin Tristan, who was a few years older than Daniel.

“How do you come to be living in your cousin’s home?” Jesus asked.

Tristan leaned against the wall. “I was orphaned at a young age and taken in by King Uryen. Fergus and I grew up together, so I was pleased to join his household.”

Jesus nodded. Such were the ways of the Dumnonii, opening their homes to livestock and all manner of guests, retainers, and distant relations.

The smoke from the fire wafted up through the thatched roof and set an eerie glow to the room. “Fergus,” Jesus said, “would you please tell us more of Grannus?”

Fergus snorted. “Grannus is clever. He wormed his way to my father’s ear with his flattery. My father became sickly and weak a year ago. Ever since, he has listened only to Grannus. He no longer accepts counsel from me or from any of the others who love him truly. And now, Grannus speaks for a king who knows not what is done in his name.”

“On our way through Truro, we sensed great fear of pirates among the people,” said Daniel. “But I see no sign of that here.”

“The people have reason to fear. They know not where or when the pirates will strike. They come to our villages in the middle of the night to plunder, and leave with their booty before any aid can come. They kill the men and carry off the women and children. They take the livestock and put everything else to the torch.”

“What happens to the women and children?” asked Jesus.

“I hear they are worked mercilessly in Eire. I also hear that the pirates have begun to sell them as slaves to the Durotriges, who in turn sell them to the Romans for a handsome profit.”

“Can anything be done?” asked Daniel.

“I have begged my father and Grannus for a company of warriors to go forth and punish the pirates. But Grannus feels safe within the precincts of this castle, and he cares nothing for the miseries of the people. He would rather lose villagers than put any of the warriors at risk. It is cruel and stupid to keep ourselves safe within these ramparts while our people suffer.”

“The castle seems safe enough,” said Pirro. “I do not see how pirates on a raid would ever breach the walls. From the stockade you would see them coming at quite a distance.”

“The castle is safe enough from raids,” Fergus replied. “But I fear the pirates sense our weakness and indecision. The land in Eire is poor, and they must envy our fertile farms. They must be spreading word among their kings of how the Dumnonii are too fat and soft to attempt any resistance. I fear one day the Scotti will invade in strength. Once they establish a foothold, it will grow until all the Dumnonii are murdered or enslaved. Not even the south shore of our lands will be safe, and not even this hillfort will withstand an extended siege.”

“It sounds as if all the Dumnonii are imperiled—even my family’s village at the mouth of the River Fal,” remarked Fedwig. “I would join in to defend our lands if I had the chance.”

Fergus exchanged glances with Tristan. “And glad I would be to have you fighting by my side, my brother. But the cold night comes on. Let us now rest.”

A few hours later Jesus was disturbed in his sleep. He looked up as the waning light from the central fire filtered through the smoke to show Fedwig fully dressed and gathering up his sword and battle-axe. Quickly, he followed his friend outside. “What’s happening?”

“Go back to bed, Jesus. You’re a guest of my people. This is not your homeland, and it is not your fight.”

“What fight? I thought Grannus refused to send any aid to the countryside.”

Fedwig sighed. “Fergus and Tristan organized a small group of warriors. No one’s meant to know. They got word that a band of pirates just laid low the village of Padstow. The pirates appear to be camped there, so Fergus will lead his men in a reprisal. They woke me a few minutes ago to ask if I would join them. We must leave quietly. But this is not your fight.” He walked away.

Jesus followed. “I did not learn the use of the sword to stand idly by while my friends are overrun in their homes. We have become as brothers, Fedwig. Where you go into harm’s way, so do I.”

Tristan walked up to them. “What is this? You are not a warrior. You’re a merchant, Jesus.”

Jesus swiftly drew his sword and, before Tristan could react, pressed the tip of the blade to Tristan’s throat. “You were saying?” Jesus asked with a hint of a smirk.

Tristan backed away, hands raised in surrender. “I guess you know how to use that.”

“This is wrong, Jesus,” said Daniel.

Jesus turned and faced his cousin.

“Do not choose the path of war and death. It is not the path for you.”

“These people fight for their lives and freedom.” Jesus sheathed his sword. “The cause is just—as just as when David led our own people. It will prepare me for the time when Israel will battle for its own freedom.”

“If you go, I go, too!” said Daniel.

“And what will I tell Joseph if the two of you come to harm while I am safely ensconced in this hillfort?” Pirro joined them.

Fedwig rolled his eyes. “We might as well bring the women, too!”

“There is no time to sort out who is gifted with the sword and who is not. Join us, if you will, any of you,” Tristan pronounced.

“What is this?” Fergus came walking up. “We said we would take Fedwig—not every trader passing through.”

“Jesus knows the use of the sword. He proved that just now.” Tristan rubbed his neck. “The others insist on coming too. They know they do so at their peril.”

A servant ran up to Fergus. “Your father sends for you. There is little life left in him. He is passing quickly.”

“You must stay,” Tristan said. “If your father goes, we will need a new king. If you are not here to stand, then Grannus will succeed your father to the destruction of all. I will lead the pursuit.”

“Very well, cousin.” Fergus clapped Tristan’s shoulder. “May the gods be with you and protect you—and all the rest of you, too!”

Jesus exchanged glances with Daniel. He could have done without Fergus’s appeal to his pagan gods on their behalf, but this was no time for argument.

Guided by moonlight, they rode slowly at first. Coming alone, and in pairs and small groups, the village warriors joined in. Coming to join them on horseback was a figure Jesus had not seen since the day Uncle Joseph established the tin refinery in Carn Roz. It was Elsigar, the druid. Jesus twitched.

“I thought we came to fight with arms,” Jesus remarked to Fedwig as they rode together.

“We did,” Fedwig answered. “The druids always come, too. They come to invoke the favor of our gods. The men will not fight without at least one of them present.”

“My Father is always with me. I do not need any kind of priest to ride with me in battle.”

Elsigar’s eyes widened in astonishment when he saw Jesus. But then he turned to Tristan. “The gods will try us. They are angry that the king has denied aid to his people for so long, and angry, too, that he has avoided our counsel. But fortune may yet smile upon us before this business is done.”

By now the company had grown to several dozen men. They spurred their horses into a gallop and raced toward Padstow. The full moon shone and cast long shadows across the moor. The wolves howled. The cold night wind roared. Onward they rode to their fate.

The devastation of Padstow awaited them. Smoke from the fires appeared all too quickly in the distance. Ghastly heads of dead men nailed to trees confronted them as they rode into the village. No house remained standing. There was no sign of women, children, or livestock.

Tristan shook his fist. They were too late to catch the pirates.

Then they heard crying: a girl was found hiding behind a tree. She would not speak. One of the men shook her gently, but it only made her cry more.

Some of the men ran up from the riverbank. “We found the pirates’ boats,” one of them said.

“They’re still around somewhere,” another muttered, “but judging by the number and size of the craft, we may be outnumbered.”

Elsigar turned his attention back to the girl.

“Give her to me,” said Jesus. “She has just seen her family killed or driven off.” Gently he held her and let her finish crying in his arms. She pointed across the Camel River estuary to indicate the pirates’ next target.

“That would be Rock Village,” said one of the men.

The mystery became clearer. “Of course,” Elsigar said. “The smoke and flames of Padstow would have been seen from across the river, and the other villagers would have lined the opposite shore to cry out against the pirates.” The fierce wind blowing off the moor stirred the estuary into a frenzy of waves. “The crossing is too hazardous, so the pirates will be on the march around the estuary by land.”

With some gentle prodding, Jesus got the girl to confirm this. After killing the men and burning the houses, the pirates had left on foot with the women and children of the village.

Tristan pointed to the boats. “Set them on fire!”

“No, stay your hand,” Jesus cried. He knelt, folded his hands, and prayed.

Within moments the winds were stilled and the waters calmed.

The men scattered the horses to deny them to the pirates and then set out in the boats.

Elsigar was the last one off the beach. He looked at Jesus with amazement.
He worked no magic, but his prayers to his god are full of power.

They arrived in Rock Village an hour after dawn as the men of the village were making their last stand. The pirates charged in, expecting to scatter the few remaining villagers. Tristan’s men leaped eagerly from the boats and attacked on a run from the shore, surprising the pirates.

Jesus and Fedwig fought side by side. As Fedwig wildly swung his battle-axe, Jesus thrust his sword home again and again with precision. The combination created a killing zone as one pirate after another was caught in the middle and found himself unable to resist both fighting styles at the same time.

Behind them, Elsigar shouted incantations and brought down curses on the enemy.

Quickly, the battle turned.

Daniel was among the last off the boats. He wielded a battle-axe given by Fergus. Running to the village, he found the battle well under way.

The mass of fighting pirates parted for a moment, and Daniel saw the shackled women and children from Padstow. He charged through the gap and began smashing apart shackles with his axe.

The pirates broke off their attack and started to fall back. Those able to turn around saw Daniel freeing the last of the captives—their booty. With a shout, they charged toward him.

Daniel did not know what came over him as he turned and swung the battle-axe. The pirates drew back, not knowing what to make of this crazy bearded warrior. Their hesitation gave Daniel the moment he needed. He turned and ran for his life.

He collected the freed women and children on a hill beyond the village. They watched as the pirates fled into the countryside.

Daniel never expected to find himself the hero in any battle, but that was how he was greeted. Jesus and Fedwig both hugged him, overjoyed that he was safe. Even Pirro had made it through.

As the sun climbed higher, Tristan burned the pirates’ boats. Clouds of thick black smoke billowed skyward. Tristan propped his hands on his hips. “Whatever happens, this band won’t make it back to Eire easily.”

But the pirates did not fade back as Tristan expected. They stayed out of range yet still near the village, taunting the defenders with shouted threats and boasting that reinforcements would soon arrive. As dusk fell, the pirates lit a signal fire atop a hill. It would be seen for miles out to sea. The threats and boasts were anything but idle.

Tristan gathered his men. “We cannot hold this village if more pirates come. All must make for Rumps Castle. We have two horses. We can mount two warriors to ride out and alarm the country for all good men to hurry to the castle. With a few dozen more, we can man the ramparts and hold the fort against thousands.” He addressed the villagers. “Gather such food as you can carry. Do not linger to save your possessions.”

“Which way is the castle?” asked Jesus.

Tristan pointed north. “We will stay on the shoreline so we can see by the moon.”

Elsigar stepped forward. “That will bring you to the castle from the west. Rumps is a holy place, and it is forbidden for men at arms to approach from that direction. You must go through the forest.”

“Surely the pirates will see us coming and wait for us in ambush,” said Jesus.

“It would be a great impiety for men at arms to approach the other way. It is the way of the evil druid Athirne,” Elsigar replied. “But do not fear. I will turn the roots and trees against the enemy.”