Druids (24 page)

Before our eyes he expanded until his presence filled the lodge. The others shrank back from him; something wild and forever free was staring out at them from his eyes.

‘ ‘I will fight to the death,” said Vercingetorix,’ ‘but I will never plead.”

He was magnificent. I was glad I had stayed.

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“If you’re brave enough to fight the Romans we’ll fight with you!” someone at the back shouted.

“We’ll follow your standard,” another called out. “Lead us.”

The others took up the cry. It rang through the lodge and out into the sprawling fortress of Gergovia.

“Lead us, Vercingetorix!”

LONG AFTER THE warriors had gone, Rix sat gazing into the flames. I sat with him, saying nothing, understanding that there are times when a man needs to be alone inside his head.

At last he turned to me. “You heard them.”

“I did.”

“Part of me responsibility for this is yours.”

I knew mat well enough. More of the responsibility was mine man Rix realized.

“They want me to lead them. They demand it,” he said.

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

He gave me a strange look, one so hooded I could not read the spirit within. “As much as you’ve wanted to be chief druid of the Camutes, Ainvar,”

His words caught me in the pit of my stomach. For me to be chief druid, Menua would have to be dead. But that was far in the future, of course, I thought; kingship could come to Rix much sooner.

Then something like a cold chill passed over me. My head repeated Rix’s words. And in them I heard the sound of prophecy.

“I have to leave at dawn,” I said abruptly.

“You can’t.” Stated flatly, allowing for no argument. “I need you here with me now. Surely you see that. *’

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“My first obligation is to my tribe and Menua is expecting me.”

“What if I won’t let you go?” Rix said it playfully, smiling, but his eyes were not smiling.

I was torn. Part of me did want to stay with him, to be his companion and adviser in the exciting days surely just ahead. The pattern had brought us together; I was his soul friend. And like Hanesa, I wanted to take part in his glory -

1 was also, almost, a druid.

‘ ‘If you want to keep me here now, you’ll have to kill me to do it,” I said.

To my great relief he laughed; light, easy laughter. “I would kill anyone who tried to harm you, Ainvar, so how can you suggest I would hurt you myself? Go then, if you must. I know you gave your word to return to Menua. But … will you give your word to me, too?”

I looked into his eyes. “If I can. What do you.ask?”

‘ ‘When I have need of you—and I shall—if I send word, will you promise to come to me and help me? I won’t call upon you unless it’s absolutely necessary. My head is not totally empty, you know. But…”

I nodded. Sou! friend. “If you send for me, I’ll come,” I promised.

When my diminished party left Gergovia, there was a sense of anticipation in the atmosphere of the big fortress. People were gathering in knots, talking, and I heard the name of Vercingetorix. I envied Hanesa, who would stay with him.

The air was cold; Samhain was approaching. When we set out i upon the trackway northward, I took an extra cloak from my pack and wrapped it around Lakutu, who was shivering. As my hands touched her, my thoughts leaped ahead to Briga.

Briga.

We had not been on the road for half a day when we heard shouting ahead of us. From all over free Gaul, the members of the Order of the Wise were being summoned to the great grove of the Camutes.

But it was just a little too soon for the summoning to the Samhain convocation.

From the settled spaces and the private places of Gaul, the druids emerged in rivulets to form a river, heading for the grove. , As we passed through the land of the Bituriges, a number of them ^ joined us, including the chief druid Nantua from the grove near f Avaricum.

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There were not as many druids as there should have been, not as many as in former years. My head observed; my heart grieved. Our numbers were indeed diminishing with each generation. Was the clamor of growing Roman might so loud that our gifted young people could not hear the subtle voices of the Otherworid calling them to its service?

None of us discussed why we were being summoned early. There could be only one reason, and no one wanted to voice it aloud.

By the time we reached Camutian territory, I was running. Tarvos and I left Baroc and Lakutu behind to catch up as best they could.

I did not mean to stop at Cenabum, but as the fort of the Carnutes appeared on the horizon, we began encountering travelers who told us many of the druids were there. “Because of me election of the king, they had to vote,” we were told.

“The election of me king?” My head could not take in this latest development. “What king?”

“Tasgetius, new king of the Camutes. That is why me Carnutian druids were in Cenabum when the chief druid died.”

I stopped in the road as if I had run into a wall.

Only the death of the Keeper of the Grove, the sacred heart of Gaul, would have been sufficient to summon members of the Order from throughout the land. My spirit had known though my head refused to consider it. And now we had a new king as well… .

I humed to the stronghold. The gates of Cenabum were guarded by men I did not recognize. “Who are they, do you know?” I

asked Tarvos.

“Followers of Tasgetius, I think.”

When I showed the sentries my gold amulet, they opened the gates for us. “The chief judge will want to see you,” I was told. “You’ll find him with the king.”

But I did not. Word of my arrival was of course shouted through Cenabum, and Dian Cet came out to meet me long before I could reach the king’s lodge. There were new lines in his iace and his shoulders were stooped with worry, but he put on a smile and held out his hands to me. “I welcome you as a free person, Ainvar.”

“What happened?”

He took me by the elbow. “Come with me where no one can hear us talk.” He led me to a lodge used by the druids of Cena—

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bum, and bade Tarvos stand at the door and see that no one disturbed us.

“While you were gone,” Dian Cet told me, “Nantorus finally bowed to his accumulated wounds and admitted he no longer had the health to lead the tribe. A new king must be named, and the prince Tasgetius fought hard for the title.

” Menua opposed him most vigorously, claiming Tasgetius was too thick with the traders and might choose their interests over those of his tribe. The two almost came to blows, though even Tasgetius did not actually dare to strike the chief druid.

“The Order and the elders met here at Cenabum to test the candidates. Only Tasgetius succeeded in answering every question put to him, and his demonstration of prowess with arms was impressive. When the votes were cast, he was elected.

“Menua was furious, though to his credit he conducted the kingmaking ceremonies with punctilious dignity. Afterward, however, he went on criticizing Tasgetius, publicly and often.”

Menua would, I thought. He would not take defeat lightly. Having a king elected over the opposition of the chief druid was an unheard-of event, a bad omen.

hi a voice I could not keep steady, I had to ask, “How did Menua die?”

“Of a stomach complaint. He ate too many sweetmeats at one of the feasts following the kingmaking; we celebrated fora whole moon, of course.”

“Menua ate too many sweetmeats?” I echoed stupidly. “But to my certain knowledge he never overate anything!”

“You forget, we were celebrating a new king. Menua had to partake, it would have been an insult if he did not.”

“Yet he did not hesitate to criticize Tasgetius publicly?”

Dian Cet frowned, as if he had never seen the imbalance. “I suppose … of course, feasting is different, people are happy and excited … Tasgetius served an astonishing variety of imported—”

“Imported! The traders supplied the food?”

“As a token of respect for the new king.”

A cold fire ignited in my belly. “Where is Menua’s body now, Dian Cet?”

“In the lodge of his kinsman, the prince Cotuatus. Sulis is there now, preparing it. Tomorrow we shall carry it to grove.”

“Take me to him.”

“But Sulis must not be disturbed while—”

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“Take me to him!’* I roared with a force that would have done credit to Menua.

Dian Cet hesitated, then nodded. * ‘I suppose you have the right. He left the hooded robe for you, you know. He meant to have you initiated upon your return.”

A fist formed in my throat, choking me.

Menua lay in the lodge of Cotuatus. The prince himself stood guard at the door, but stepped aside when Dian Cet told him I could be considered a druid and thus was entitled to enter. Bent over the body where it lay on a table, Sulis glanced around, then straightened in surprise, “Ainvar! The Source has brought you in time!”

I had difficulty speaking. “What killed him, Sulis?”

“A pain in his belly. By the time I got to him he was doubled over and very pale. He died almost at once. Some of the other healers feit it was perhaps a twisted gut, but I’ve never known that to kill a man so quickly.

“Come here, Ainvar. Bend over. Use your nose.”

I did as she bade me, bending above the empty shell that had once housed Menua. I could not see him cleariy for the tears in my eyes. I scrubbed them away with my fist, grateful that Dian Cet had remained outside, talking in low tones with Cotuatus.

In preparation for the journey to the grove, Sulis had wrapped me body in layers of cloth painted with druidic symbols. Only the face was still uncovered. I leaned closer.

There was a strange curi to the dead druid’s lips.

When I put my face almost to his, I could smell death, but beyond that my trained nose detected the faintest, fading odor of bitter fruit.

I straightened abruptly. “Poison, Sulis?”

She answered in a whisper. “I can’t prove it. I can’t say who might have been involved. But it took more than a griping belly to kill him, and there are many poisons compounded from plants I have never seen …”

“… in places far from here,” I finished for her. “Do me others know? Or Cotuatus?”

“I haven’t said anything to anyone. Who would dare murder a chief druid?” she asked in a voice chilled with horror.

I did not answer, but my head knew. Tasgetius must have wanted the kingship very much, and been unable to accept opposition. A king cannot afford to have the chief druid inveighing against him.

The terrible fact lay between us like a snake on the floor. It

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could not be considered, discussed, acted upon—yet. For the time being, nothing existed but the body of Menua. My shocked head could think of nothing beyond that.

When I left the lodge, Dian Cet was waiting for me. Aberth was with him. Over his arms, the sacrificer held a hooded robe.

“When we reach the grove, we’ll initiate you into the Order first,” Aberth said. “That way you can attend Menua’s funeral ritual with the other druids. It’s what he would have wanted.” His voice was uncharacteristically kind.

I looked dully at the robe, but it had no meaning for me. It was Just empty cloth. Empty, as I felt empty. I was circling the thin edge of a howling void where none of the verities I had depended upon still existed. Loss enfolded me.

Menua was dead.

No chief druid to listen to my discoveries, to give me advice and criticism.

To welcome me home.

No Menua.

No.

No.

I must have swayed on my feet; Dian Cet caught my upper arm in a firm grip. “You’re exhausted, Ainvar. You’ve come a long way, you must eat and rest if you’re going with us tomorrow.” He led me somewhere, to some lodge… .

Sulis came to me, I remember that. She gave me a drink that tasted of sloes, and I slept. When I awoke in a grainy gray dawn, Tarvos was bending over me. “They want you,” he said.

The druids carried Menua’s body from Cenabum in silence. An equally silent crowd gathered to watch us go. The new king was among them, looking suitably sober.

I turned my face away from him.

The chief druid was borne on a bier of yew wood, which me druids hoisted onto their own shoulders. Uninitiated, I was not allowed to help carry me bier, but I followed close behind it. We traveled without stopping for food or sleep, and when the load grew too heavy for the carriers, a new set took its turn. Northward, northward, to the grove at the heart of Gaul.

A chill wind accompanied us. The days had grown very brief, and very dark.

We reached the Fort of me Grove late in the evening. Menua’s body would rest the night in his own lodge, and I was permitted to keep the vigil beside it.

I did not sleep. I did not think. There was nothing in my head

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but gray fog and red mist, and from time to time I turned to look at the quiet body lying on the yew-wood bier.

At dawn the Camutian druids came for me first. Menua’s ritual would take place with the dying of the sun; the ritual of initiation was for the morning.

Led by Dian Cet, we made our way to the grove. It was crowded not only with our own druids, but with those from the Bituriges, the Arvemi, the Boii, and many others, all those who had known and revered the Keeper of the Grove.

The trees watched. How I had longed to see them again, those mighty and timeless oaks. Now I did not even glance at them. My eyes saw nothing. I felt nothing. I did not want to feel. This was so much worse than Rosmerta’s death had been.

Deathteaching had freed me from fear of my own dying, but had not prepared me to have the center fall out of my worid-

“Are you applying to join the Order of the Wise?” a voice inquired.

“I am,” I replied to Dian Cet, but only because that was the correct form of response. The words held no meaning for me. I clung to my numbness as a warrior clings to his shield.

Among the trees the druids formed into two parallel lines, creating a passageway down which the chief judge led me. As we passed the first pair, they began to chant. The chant was taken up by each opposing pair in him so that it moved forward with us in