The Moon Worshippers (10 page)

“That’s why we have come to see you. We need you to use your arts to predict were the greatest danger lies.”

“We will call you when we have the answer,” said one of the Nagusi. The captains left.

Next day, Inaki’s uncle and mother arrived. The Nagusi built a round structure of wood and covered it with sods of grass. That night, fifteen Nagusi filled the building and a powerful brew of the magic mushrooms and other things were prepared. After they had meditated, said prayers to the Gods and prepared themselves, the mixture was passed around in a large wooden bowl. Inaki sat between Patxi and his uncle. He took a large drink of the mixture and closed his eyes, summoning his guardian. When the Sacred Octopus had appeared in his mind, he opened his eyes. The flames of the fire at the centre had changed to blue. A blue light illuminated the whole building. Several of the Nagusi appeared to have changed shape. To his surprise his uncle was now a great grey bear, Patxi an oak, another was a giant wolf. Two others were birds: one was an eagle, the other a black crow. These two flew into the air and disappeared through a hole at the top of the structure, flying eastwards.

The Sacred Octopus left his mind and hung above him. It grew in size, until it was the size of three men. The tentacles reached down and plucked him into the air. They disappeared in a westward direction. Upwards they flew, higher and higher. Then suddenly they plunged towards the ground, stopping above a range of mountains. Then came a sudden descent. They slowed down until they hovered above a cave in a mountainside. The Sacred Octopus placed him gently on the ground, covering him in a dark inky substance. Inaki stepped into the cave. Once inside the cave, Inaki became aware of a rhythmic chanting. He moved deeper into the cave, until it opened into an enormous cavern, the size of St Peter’s Basilica. From the ceiling, huge stalactites came down to meet stalagmites, which had, in places, fused to form white glistening pillars supporting the massive roof. Candles of various shapes and sizes lit the whole cavern. Braziers burnt in several places. In the centre a group of forty black-cloaked hooded figures moved slowly around a central altar. They each held a long black candle and chanted in Latin as they moved.

Their movement revealed that they were totally naked underneath their cloaks and that they were all women. At the stone altar a single figure, dressed like the others in black, displayed the most exquisite silver jewellery on her neck and arms. In her hand a silver handled dagger was raised. To her left a young woman stood totally naked with two attendants, who were covering her body with a red liquid substance. They applied the substance by dipping long horsehair brushes into a silver bowl. At the front of the altar was a boy, tied hand and foot. By his dress Inaki could tell that he was high ranking and a Moor. On the altar was a naked man. The dagger came down and with a few expertly executed strokes, his heart was cut out. Several other bodies lay on the floor with no hearts. The priestess took the heart and squeezed the blood into the silver bowl. She then began to eat the heart. Inaki gasped. They turned towards him. The priestess pointed at the inky darkness and gave the most eerie scream, which turned his heart to stone. Inaki felt the darkness around him enveloping his mind. The next thing he became aware of was that he was outside. The Octopus had picked him up and he was rushing into the night sky. Inaki lost consciousness. A sharp slap across the face brought him to his senses.

“Nice trip? Have no fear, your body remained here guarded within the circle of Nagusi,” Patxi said with a smile.

Inaki could not speak. He sat in a daze. His mind tormented by what he had seen.

*

What each of the Nagusi had experienced in their dream’s, was discussed until dawn. Finally, it was Inaki’s turn. They all sat in silence as he recalled his trip to the Sisters of the Moon.

“Interestingly, it would seem that the Sisters have a captive, and one of some importance,” said Larraga, “but before we take this matter further we must all rest.”

Inaki slept for the rest of the next day and night. It was a restless sleep from which he often awoke in a sweat.

Three days later, at dusk, the Nagusi were ready and a meeting was called. They met the captains under the Sacred Oak, as was their custom.

“The Gods have many needs,” Zumalacarraqui, the most senior captain said, raising his arms.

“Blessed be the Gods,” 2,000 voices replied.

“You have something to tell us, oh wise one?”

“We have,” replied Larraga, a wise Nagusi, “some of which we understand, some things are not so clear. I will start with what we know and let you judge the rest.”

Larraga explained that the Nagusi had travelled far and wide. After much consultation amongst themselves they had concluded that the threat to the west was perceived and real, as was the threat to the east. They cautioned that action of some kind would have to be taken, to meet these two threats. That they, all agreed, was clearly understood. Then he told the meeting of Inaki’s experience and their interpretation of what it meant.

“We believe that there is danger in Aragon, but of what kind we cannot judge, however we would suggest that provision be made for it. Clearly, they have, or will have soon, a Moor of some importance. We need to know who he is and why the Sisters have decided to keep him alive. He could be the reason for the pact with Charlemagne,” Larraga s
at down.

The seven captains consulted amongst themselves. Finally, Leizaola, the youngest of them, stood up.

“It is agreed,” he announced. “The men of Avala will return home and protect our border against the Asturians. The men of Guipuzcoa will march to Pamplona to reinforce the garrison and wait to counter the threat of the Frankish invasion. Our brothers from Labourd, Basse Navarre and Soule will form small bands of armed men and take to the Pyrenees, informing us of where the Franks cross into Navarra. Then they will attack the supply lines. Inaki Etxebarria will go, with his Guipuzcoan brothers, to Pamplona and then on to Aragon.”

A tall elegant woman in the crowd stood up. All eyes turned towards her.

“Then you will send him to his death,” she said simply.

The silence could be cut with a knife. Who had dared to question the authority of the captains?

“We recognise Irune Etxebarria,” said Leizaola, “but why do you question our judgement? What grounds have you for your words?”

The woman bowed. “Because you send my son to his death, and I will not allow it.”

“How can that be? Can you explain yourself?” Leizaola said roughly.

“Certainly,” Inaki’s mother said. “He is the son of the rightful King of the Navarrese people, who was murdered by his own brother, Inigo Aritza, in order to take his place and the crown.”

Voices began to be raised with cries of “shame” were heard.

Leizaola raised his arm for silence. The crowd quietened down.

“Can you prove this?”

The woman held out her hand and opened it. The men around her gasped.

“Do you recognise this?” she said in her deep rich voice.

In her palm she held a brooch of infinite beauty. It was large and round, of fine silver. Around the rim within two circles, ancient runes were carved, separated by emeralds. In the centre was an Octopus, with two ruby eyes, its eight tentacles extended to the first circle of the rim. It was exquisite and of the finest craftsmanship. Patxi took it, moved under the oak and held it above his head, between forefinger and thumb.

“Behold,” he said, “the brooch of a Navarrese chieftain of high rank. It is the royal brooch of a king!”

The crowd cheered. The captains sat talking rapidly. The situation was potentially explosive. Murder demanded blood in Basque law. Inaki and his supporters could seek revenge against the five hundred men from Navarra. Inaki sat dumbfounded. As the cheering died down a voice was heard to say:

“I will guarantee his safety.”

Leizaola and the captains breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Goiri, captain of the Navarrese! We the captains of the Basque clans also pledge our support and protection, until the matter can be resolved, by the traditional way, by ordeal or a duel to the death. But this is not the time.”

Then a voice said slowly and deliberately: “Guaranteed with your life, Goiri?”

“Who dares question my honour?” Goiri said, his face showing his anger. He drew his sword and looked around him.

Three dogs stood up and moved forward. From the shadows, a giant of a man emerged. Aguirre stood there for all to see. “I do. Pledge your life Goiri, or make no pledge at all.”

“Aye, do that!” a voice said.

“I agree,” came another voice.

“Me too,” another voice repeated.

“And me. Make the oath or say nothing!”

By ones and twos, the forty men of the village stood. From the mood of the assembled troops, Goiri sensed that these were not the only men who would fight on Inaki’s side.

“So be it, with my life,” Goiri spoke reluctantly and put his sword into its scabbard and sat down.

Leizaola spoke, with relief in his voice.

“We thank you, Goiri. It is settled. Captains gather your men and prepare to move. There is no time to waste with further talk.”

Inaki move towards his mother.

“Why did you not tell me, Mother?”

“Your safety depended on you remaining anonymous. If our enemies had ever found out where you were, they would have tried to kill you. You must take great care in Navarra. There will be many that wish you ill there.”

“Don’t worry, little mother, I will take care of him.” Aguirre had come to her side.

“For that I will be eternally grateful, Aguirre.”

*

The next day, 1,900 men set off for Pamplona. At their head marched three captains: Zumalacarraqui, Zumarraga and the young Leizaola. At the rear of the column marched Inaki and Aguirre, with the four dogs walking beside them. Behind them were a long line of pack animals and a large flock of sheep and goats. The first day’s marching took them to Lasarte, where they made camp for the night. At dawn the next day they broke camp and marched on. By that evening they had reached Lecumberri, a medium sized town where more men joined the column. At Lecumberri they cut trees and made rafts. The river at Lecumberri ran straight to Pamplona and would cut the time to get there by half. Five hundred rafts took two weeks to complete and as they were made, groups of men launched them and secured them to the bank with ropes. Soon all was ready and most of the force embarked. A small group of men remained with the packhorses and sheep. They would follow at their own pace. The river began to widen and gather speed. Progress was fast and by the third day they had reached Pamplona. A joyous crowd met them.

Chapter Eight

The Abbot

It was winter and the wind was whistling remorselessly round the walls of the monastery. Like most isolated monasteries of the time, it was a fortified building. It had been an old Roman fortress in the past. It was perched on the side of a mountain, overlooking the plains stretching towards France and its position was of some strategic importance, since it was at the eastern entrance to the Roncesvalles pass. Some distance away to the east was the nearest Basque village, called Archurieta. Often, travellers would stop at the monastery for food, shelter, protection and rest. This enabled the monks to perform another important function, the evaluation and gathering of important information relating to the Iberian peninsular, in particular the Moorish troop movements and strength. They were Charlemagne’s eyes and ears and especially selected for the tasks they performed for him.

Inside a cell, the candles flickered. The old man gave a groan and woke up.

“I see we have company,” he said in a low voice. His life was slowly ebbing away and he knew it. In the corner of the cell a monk sat at a small table. On it there was parchment, ink and goose feathered quills. With a small knife he was sharpening a quill into a pen. Another monk sat close to the old man’s bed.

“The brother is here to record your words faithfully.”

“Ha! What is so important about my words?”

The old man spat out the exclamation. The monk beside the bed continued softly. “You were telling us about the encounter with the Sisters of the Moon. If you have the strength we would like you to continue. We are particularly interested in the location of their cave.”

“I bet you are! But first tell me what you know of them.”

“Only what you have told us, my son.”

“Don’t lie to me, you piece of bird shit! Besides time is short and I will take whatever you say with me to my death, which as you well know, is not too distant.”

The monk bowed his head and contemplated for a few moments. “Very well. We tried to make contact with them several years ago. We lost”… he paused for a moment …“many holy fathers.”

“For what purpose?” the old man asked.

“That I cannot tell you.”

“Will not, you mean!”

“I have not the authority.”

“Then go and get it,” the old man said with a sneer, and closed his eyes.

The monk sat for a moment. There was nothing more to be said. He could see that. He got up and left the cell. Sometime later the cell door opened and the Abbot entered. The monk at the desk stood and bowed deeply. The Abbot waved him into his chair. The old man opened an eye and promptly shut it again. The Abbot smiled to himself and sat down beside him.