Calgaich the Swordsman (22 page)

"Damn you!” she cried. “Must you sneak up behind me like a hunting wolf? I would rather be alone than followed by the likes of you.”

Guidd looked surprised. “Why,
l am a
hunting wolf.”

Calgaich joined them, grinning. “He believes it,” he said to Cairenn, calming her horse as it shied away from their sudden appearance.

The wind shifted. A faint and rhythmic thudding sound was borne on it. The chink of metal striking stone, now and again, wove a counter melody into the thudding sound.

“What’s that?” Cairenn asked as the horse moved restlessly about.

Calgaich turned. “The wall,” he replied quietly. “That’s probably a dawn patrol walking between the mile forts.”

“So close to us?” she asked.

“The mist carries the sound. It is about half a mile from us. We’re safe enough as long as the mist holds. Still, we can’t get over the wall today. We’ll have to hide on this side of it until nightfall, and then risk it. I had hoped we could reach this point before daylight. Every minute we have to spend on this side of the wall is dangerous.”

Guidd leaned against the horse. “It’s a good thing those Asturians who were following us got lost in the mist.”

“Did they see you?” Cairenn asked anxiously.

Guidd and Calgaich looked blankly at her.

“I should have known better,” she admitted.

Guidd grinned. “They’re past us by now, heading east.”

“But there will be others,” Calgaich warned.

They moved to the east, with Guidd prowling through the mist ahead of them. They stopped at last in a deep hollow thick with bog myrtle. Calgaich and Guidd again vanished into the mist.

Soon, they came back as silently as disembodied spirits. “All clear,” Calgaich announced. “If anything happens, and we have to run again, we’ll split up. Remember, Cairenn, run that way,
away
from the wall.” He pointed to the south. “Soon they will start using hounds and trackers to find us. If you are alone, follow a stream, and wade in it to throw the hounds off the scent. Then turn north once you’ve eluded them.”

“And what of you?” she asked.

Calgaich looked at Guidd. Their faces were grim. "We won’t be taken alive this time,” he replied quietly. He looked at the bundle that hung from the saddle. "It might have been better, at that, if I had died back there beside my father with half a dozen dead Romans at my feet.”

"You talk like a fool!” Cairenn said. She almost winced in anticipation of an expected blow. Her courage returned as Calgaich stood there silent. "Your father died to pass the chieftainship on to you. He knew he would not live much longer in a Roman prison. You are his only son. Is the son not worthy of the father’s sacrifice?”

"She talks like a female Druid,” Guidd growled.

Somewhere within the dense bog thicket a snipe drummed steadily.

"Do they come?” she asked. Her face was taut and pale.

Guidd shook his head. "The snipe drums only because he thinks all is well.”

Cairenn placed a hand on Calgaich’s arm. "If it had been you lying in the filth of a Roman prison, half-blind and dying from poison bit by bit, would you not have wanted to die as he did, with the wind on his face, fighting his enemies?”

Calgaich did not reply as he shook off her hand. He unsaddled the horse and placed the bundled head to one side. He led the blown animal to the very edge of the bog. He jerked his head at Guidd. The woodsman came to stand beside Calgaich. Calgaich stroked the horse’s nose to quieten it, then suddenly jerked the head up and sideways. The slashing stroke of the keen-edged dirk came so swiftly across his throat the horse hardly felt it. Cairenn looked away as a dreadful bubbling sound escaped from the severed throat artery. Calgaich and Guidd threw their weight against the side of the horse so that he fell into the quagmire.

Guidd took the bloody dirk from Calgaich’s hand and skinned back the hide on the flank. He placed a square of the horsehide on the bank of the quagmire and then expertly cut long, thick strips of meat from the flank of the horse. By the time he was through, the horse had half sunk into the mire. Calgaich hurled the saddle as far as he could into the bog.

Guidd worked quickly. He broke open a half-rotten log and made a small fire of the dry inner wood. The thin smoke drifted up into the concealing mist. The meat was only partially roasted when he put out the embers. The woodsman handed Cairenn one of the roasted strips of meat. Calgaich and Guidd squatted on the wet ground and ate.

"This is barbarianism!” Cairenn cried, holding the meat at arm’s length.

Calgaich shrugged. "We
are
barbarians, at least according to the civilized Romans."

Guidd grinned. "Would you rather starve as being civilized, or eat as a barbarian?” he asked. He chuckled.

Bron growled a little as he worried at his raw meat. He looked sideways at Cairenn with his yellow eyes.

"He’s got his eye on your meat,” Calgaich warned her.

By the time Cairenn was through eating, the saddle had disappeared into the bog and the horse was half-submerged. Guidd eradicated all traces of the fire and bundled the remainder of the meat within the square of horsehide.

Calgaich found a hollow, well shielded by trees where leaves had drifted thickly. He beckoned to Cairenn. "Sleep here,” he said. "We’ll sleep separately, for fear of surprise. Bron will guard us. Are you all right?”

She nodded, looking up into his scarred face. "What will you do with the head?” she asked quietly.

He looked toward the north. "Take it back to Rioghaine if I can. I will not leave it here on this side of the wall.”

Cairenn did not always understand Calgaich’s passion for warring, but she did respect his love for his father. She knew he was doing what he must do. It was a question of honor. Finally he turned back to her.

"Sleep, little hare,” he told her. He waited while she lay down on her cloak among the leaves. She wished he would lie down with her and keep her warm. He hesitated for just a moment and then moved away to sleep alone. Several times during the night Cairenn was aware of the great wolfhound, Bron, coming to sniff at her makeshift bed. Mostly, she slept.

The mist burned off with the rising of the watery-looking sun. Cairenn awoke once. There was no sign of Calgaich, Guidd or Bron. She raised her head as she heard the sound of men’s voices coming faintly to her on the wind from the north. Metal thudded against stone. She got up on her knees.

“They are working on the wall, little hare," Guidd said.

She turned quickly. The woodsman lay on his belly beside a pool of rainwater. He scooped the clear water up into his mouth. He looked sideways at her. "They are
always
working on the wall," he added.

She turned to look north again. The sounds continued. Now and then she thought she heard the sound of men's voices. Once a dog barked. When she turned around, Guidd had vanished. The bog and thicket were silent under the rising sun. The horse had sunk out of sight.

When dusk came at last, they moved out of the bog. The mist had moved in again with the departure of the sun. They did not see the wall through the mist and darkness until they were almost upon it. It seemed to tower above them, about the height of three tall men.

Cairenn slowly put out a hand to touch the famed Wall of Hadrian. Although it had been there for almost two hundred and fifty years, and had been made of native stone, and much of it by native labor, there seemed to be an alien quality about it, at least to Cairenn. She knew the Caledonians hated it almost as though it were a living thing.

Calgaich had chosen this crossing point well. Here the Great Wall plunged into a deep, narrow valley, then spanned a shallow stream on bridge piers. Near the edge of the stream was a mile castle, and on the far side of the valley a signal tower stood on the heights.

Guidd pointed out the thick brush that had been allowed to encroach on the wall. He pointed upward to where part of the rampart had been allowed to fall off. "The Red Crests are getting careless," he whispered.. "See here?" He thrust his fingers deep into the joints of some of the tiers of stone to indicate where the mortar had fallen out and had not been replaced.

Calgaich drew Cairenn close. "There are small castles every mile, and in between each of them are several signal towers. I am sure a signal has been passed along the wall by this time, from west to east, warning the garrisons that we escaped and are headed this way. They will likely double the watch, at least for part of the distance east from Luguvalium and Fort ala Petriana. We’re going to try to get in between two of the wall posts. We’ll have to move fast. If we’re seen, we must scatter, and hope that some of us, at least, can escape. Do you understand?” His arms tightened around her.

She nodded. “I do not want to be taken alive, Calgaich.”

Guidd had uncoiled a rough but serviceable rope he had fashioned from strips of his blanket and part of Calgaich’s cloak. He fastened one end of it to his belt and then worked his way up the side of the wall by thrusting his fingers and toes into the crevices where the mortar had worked loose. A few moments later the end of the rope dropped beside Calgaich. Calgaich fastened the rope around the chest and forelegs of Bron. He jerked twice on the rope and then lifted the heavy hound up as far as he could. As soon as Guidd had taken up the slack in the rope Calgaich climbed up the wall to help Guidd haul up the hound.

Cairenn was alone. She looked up. Bron was just disappearing from her sight. Not a sound came from above her. She looked back over her shoulder. What if they did not help her up the wall? What if something happened to them up there?

Minutes drifted past. The rope dropped beside Cairenn. Calgaich came easily down the rope. ‘They are safe on the other side,” he whispered. He slung his war spear across his back. “Can you climb it?” he asked.

“I can try,” she said, looking up at the wall.

"I’ll help you.” He grasped her by the waist and lifted her as high as he could. She gripped the rope and began to climb while thrusting her toes into the deep cracks. Once she slipped, but she felt one of his hands against the small of her back. She knew he was climbing the wall just below and to the right of her.

Calgaich climbed above her once he knew she might make it. He lay flat across the rampart and reached down for her, drawing her up beside him to the rough stone track that lay between the two ramparts.

To the west the faint, square yellow eyes of unblinking light showed the small windows of the mile castle. The smell of food cooking came to Calgaich and Cairenn on the night wind.

Her breathing was harsh and thick in her throat. Her muscles trembled from exertion. She lay flat on the track and covered her eyes with a hand.

“It's a longer drop on the outer side,” he whispered into her ear. ‘The wall here is built on a steep slope.”

“I can’t make it, Calgaich.” It felt like the end to her.

“By the gods! You’ll
have
to make it! I won’t leave here without you!”

The rampart door at the mile castle tower was flung open. A flood of yellow, smoky light poured out onto the track. Dark-cloaked figures showed against the light. A man's hoarse voice sounded, giving orders. The voice echoed along the wall. The door was slammed shut. Shortly thereafter came the metallic, thudding sound of nail-studded sandals on the flagstones of the track.

Calgaich cursed. “The watch!”

A moment later the sound of men’s voices, mingled with the thudding of feet, came from the east.

“We’re between the pincers,” Calgaich said.

There was no time for a safe and easy descent from the wall. Calgaich worked swiftly. He tied the rope to the outer rampart and turned to Cairenn. “Over with you,” he ordered. His voice was harsh, a command.

She climbed over the rampart and gripped the rope. Her arm muscles still trembled from the strain of climbing up the other side. “I know I can’t make it, Calgaich,” she whispered tensely.

He pushed down on her head. “Damn you! Try! Slide to the end of the rope and then drop!”

Cairenn slid down the rough rope. Her hands were abraded and her knees bumped against the rough surface of the wall. Once she spun about and struck the back of her head against the stone. She prayed silently to her gods and then the rope slid through her sweating grasp and she dropped down into the darkness and the unknown.

Calgaich peered over the wall. He heard her strike far below. He knew she would not cry out. She had the guts of a warrior in the body of a beautiful woman, but it would never do to let her know. This was a
man
*s world.

It was pitch dark at the bottom of the wall. Calgaich wanted to drop his spear over the side, but was afraid it might strike Cairenn or Guidd. He cursed softly as he slung it over his back. He threw a long leg over the rampart,

A man shouted hoarsely from the east. Nailed sandals rang against the flagstones as the watch began to turn toward Calgaich. The same sound was echoed from the west as the other watch patrol began to run.

“Lugh of the Shining Spear,” Calgaich prayed. He slid down the rope. He felt his legs dangling in air and then he let go. By the luck of the gods he landed on his feet with a jolt that carried all the way up his spine.

“Over here, Calgaich!” Guidd called out.

Calgaich whirled. “Get the hell out of here! Get the woman away from this damned wall!”

A torch was cast from the ramparts. It fell through the swirling mist while trailing a shower of sparks. Dark-helmeted heads showed above the rampart. Something flashed dully in the light from the torch. A
pilum
point struck in the soft ground right beside Calgaich.

More torches were cast over the wall. An archer leaned over the rampart and drew a nocked arrow back so that the feathers touched the point of his jaw. The polished arrow flashed through the air and plucked at Calgaich’s tunic. Calgaich ran, darting from side to side like a hare fleeing a hunter. Then he disappeared into the thick mist. Those damned archers, possibly Syrians or Numidians, were the best in the auxiliaries, and they rarely missed at such a short range. If it hadn't been for the mist they would have hit him.