The Moon Worshippers (12 page)

“And with you,” Inaki replied.

“I’ll be glad to see the back of them,” Aguirre whispered.

Patxi moved towards the two men. “I don’t like this.”

“On that we are agreed,” Inaki said softly.

The three men talked. When they had finished, Inaki nodded. He thanked Goiri again for his help and gathered his men round him.

“We will rest here for a day and buy food. At dawn we will leave and keep to the mountains. We will find a cave where the men can hide. Three others and I will move down to Zaragoza. You will post sentries night and day and watch for our return. You will not break cover under any circumstances.”

At dawn they went south. Some hours later they found themselves in a narrow gorge. The dogs were moving ahead of them. Storm stopped and growled, deep and long. The hair on his back rose. At that moment a hail of arrows and stones hit them. Five men died immediately; several others lay injured. The men, instinctively, broke into two groups, making for the high ground up the steep sides of the gorge. Inaki with Aguirre sheltered behind a rock, a little way up the side of the gorge. More arrows rained down. More men fell. A group disappeared over the ridge of the mountain. Several moments later the sound of hand-to-hand fighting could be heard. Inaki with the rest of the group ran through the gorge and moved rapidly up the mountain. As they reached the top they turned and ran along the ridge. They could see below them men fighting in sections. There was intense toe to toe fighting and several men were dead or dying. They moved down quickly to join their brothers. Leaping from rock to rock, they fell on the enemy. It was all over as quickly as it had begun. They had lost fifteen men with ten badly wounded. Goiri and ten Navarrese lay dead. The Navarrese had certainly excelled themselves.

They had killed fifteen men and injured others, some seriously. It was a great feat of arms, even if it had been done by ambush. He felt a grudging respect for his kinsmen. In his mind, he noted their fighting abilities quietly for the future. They collected their wounded and moved out quickly, fearing another attack. They did not rest for the whole of the day. Two men died of their wounds as they travelled. The next day they found some caves and rested. Patxi and Inaki collected herbs and tended to the wounded. Below them they could see a wide and semi-cultivated plain. Inaki felt dejected. He had lost twenty-two men and he had little hope for four more. He felt that it was his fault. He had been the target and so many had died to save him. That night he sat in the cave with his head in his hands. He could hear the groans of dying men all around him. Aguirre was tending a small fire.

“Don’t take it so badly,” he said not looking up.

Inaki lifted his face. Tears were running in dirty ruts down his face.

“What am I going to tell their families?” he asked plaintively.

“That they died well, like warriors and that they have found peace with the Gods.”

“Is that enough for a lost son, father or husband?”

“They knew the risks and no, it is never enough!” Aguirre spoke the words with feeling and as one who had suffered personally.

Patxi, who had been tending a wounded man, came to join them.

“How long do you intend staying here?” asked Patxi.

“At least until the wounded are healed,” replied Inaki.

“You cannot afford the time. The longer we remain here the greater the risk for all of us.” Patxi thought for a moment and continued. “You have to go and go soon. Tomorrow night at the latest.”

“I will not leave the wounded!” said Inaki.

“There is nothing you can do that I cannot do better. You owe the wounded nothing. We did not elect you for your sentimentality or for your feelings of guilt. You have a mission to complete that is more important than the men here or you. Now pull yourself together and start thinking about how you are going to carry it out otherwise all these lives will have been wasted.”

Inaki sat, with his mind in turmoil. He could not think. His head was filled with too many emotions.

Aguirre came to his rescue. “I have been thinking. Storm is a liability.”

Inaki stood up abruptly, battle-axe in hand. “Take that back or...”

“Oh, sit down and don’t be stupid. Have you not seen enough blood?”

Inaki remained standing. Aguirre continued in a calm voice.

“If we are to go to Zaragoza, we cannot take Storm. He would attack half the population.”

Inaki sat down. “He will not remain here. I could not make him.”

“Then we must kill him or take him with us,” Aguirre looked at Inaki without expression.

Inaki was about to stand and explode again, when Aguirre put an enormous hand on his shoulder and held him down.

“We must turn the problem to our advantage.” Aguirre held Inaki with his eyes and removed the hand.

“How?”

“I have been giving the matter much thought,” Aguirre continued. “We need to appear as hunters if access is to be gained into Zaragoza without arousing too much suspicion. We will build a cage and put Storm in it. After all, we only need a few days there.”

Inaki thought quickly. The plan was sound, but how would Storm react? Not well, that was for sure! However, the more he thought about it the more he realised the brilliance of the plan. In fact if Storm did not react badly the plan would not work. He had to act like a caged wild animal. Like a caged wolf!

“He will have to be released at night. He cannot be caged night and day. He would go mad.”

“Agreed,” said Aguirre, “we will go into the city during the day and come out before nightfall. That way, Storm should be able to bear it.”

They had to build three cages before they had one strong enough to hold Storm. He turned the wooded bars of the first two cages into firewood. At last they had a cage that would hold him. Aguirre nursed a badly bitten hand which was roughly bandaged. Inaki had several bite wounds on his arms and hands. Finally, all was ready and they had managed, after a struggle of epic proportions, to get Storm into the cage. Aguirre left Roka with Patxi; he was too like his father to risk taking. The two bitches went with them. They were no risk and would help calm Storm when they released him at night. Inaki and Aguirre walked at the front, leading, with Eguskitza and Azkuet, the two Basque brothers from Getxo, carrying the cage. They hung the cage between two poles, since no one could come anywhere near it. Storm spent the first three hours growling and gnawing at the bars. Eventually, he settled despondently at the bottom of the cage, whimpering like a puppy. Inaki marched along, heartbroken. The last few days had taken their toll, and he was emotionally exhausted.

Storm’s imprisonment proved to have benefits that were totally unforeseen. He caused tremendous interest in passers-by. This led to conversations and valuable information. In the towns and villages small crowds would gather to look and wonder at Storm. Storm would give a wonderful performance, growling and snarling. Few would venture closer than a few paces to the cage. His size and steady, staring, yellow eyes, together with the large mouth of white teeth, kept the bravest at a distance. The story of his capture was always the same. They had dug a pit to trap wild boar and much to their surprise, had found him with the half-devoured carcass in the pit. The story was readily accepted by all. They would then name a price for the animal, which was just high enough to ensure that none that asked would accept it. At dusk they would move out into the countryside and release Storm. As the days passed he learnt to accept his role and became more manageable.

At the evening meal the men discussed what they had learnt. It became increasingly clear from the conversations they had with the local population that a pact had been made between Charlemagne and the governor of Zaragoza. Charlemagne was expected at anytime now. The other piece of information was harder to fathom. It appeared that the son of the governor had been missing for sometime, and the rumours were that the two events where not unconnected. The importance of this information was not lost to Inaki, but how could they determine if it was true? They spent many hours pondering the question. The only man that knew for sure was the governor and they could not very well go marching up to him and ask him. The problem seemed to have no solution.

One night when they had gone over the same ground for the hundredth time, Inaki grew impatient.

“I’ll go and see the governor.”

“What use is that?” Aguirre said, adding, “You will only lose your head. You should know by now how much the Moors like to behead the Basques. Besides, what can you offer him?”

“The location of his son’s imprisonment,” said Inaki.

“You don’t know the location exactly and you don’t know if it’s his son. It could be anyone’s son. You couldn’t prove it. Furthermore, if you explained how you knew they would behead you for certain as a pagan and a Nagusi at that.”

“All right, you have all the answers, what do you suggest we do?”

“Change our line of thinking and questioning for a start,” said Aguirre.

“What good will that do?” said Inaki, bewildered.

“I have two reasons for making the suggestion. First, to find out the area in which we might find the Sisters of the Moon and two, to obtain the release of the Moorish boy. Then, perhaps we will have something to offer the governor.”

“You mean we don’t go to Zaragoza at all?”

“Not at the present time. There is no point in taking the risk.”

“Don’t we need to know how well the city is fortified and the strength of its garrison?” asked Inaki.

“What for? We are not going to attack it,” said Aguirre.

Inaki thought for a while. Finally he said: “Very well. We go back.”

Three days of forced marching brought them back to the caves. It was as bad as Inaki had feared before leaving. Two men had died of their wounds, three others were still recovering. Of the forty men that had set out with him, over half had perished. Patxi elected once more, to stay with the wounded. When they had healed, they would make their own way back. After a day’s rest, the small band of Basque warriors set off in search of the Sisters of the Moon. Eleven men and four dogs would be no match for the bands of warriors that moved endlessly around the countryside, be they Aragonese or Moors. Consequently, they kept to the foothills of the Pyrenees, heading south and a little eastward, prepared to move deeper into their beloved mountains whenever danger threatened. For four days they marched without incident, moving around villages and hiding from shepherds. On the fifth day they were well into Aragonese territory and making good progress. Two hundred paces in front, Aguirre was scouting ahead with his three dogs. He suddenly stopped and raised his hand. They all halted and waited, crouching in the long grass. He beckoned them forward. Slowly they moved forward and as they reached Aguirre, he pointed down into the valley below. Across the small stream in a meadow, filled with buttercups and daisies, they could see a horse standing. All around the horse they could see the shapes of bodies.

“What do you make of it?” Inaki said to Aguirre.

“Some sort of fight, perhaps an ambush. They look dead to me.”

“Mostly Moors from what I can tell without getting closer.”

“Shall we take a closer look?”

“Too risky for all of us to go.”

“All right, I’ll go down with Storm.”

“Take care, if you see anything you don’t like come straight back.”

*

Inaki made his way slowly and carefully down to the valley below. When he reached the stream, he noticed that the opposite bank was covered in hoof prints. Around forty men had waited in ambush. As they had rushed out of hiding they had flattened the meadow grass, making deep canals through it. As he crossed the stream and followed the tracks he came across the body of a dead Aragonese warrior. He had an arrow through his neck. Further on were more dead bodies until he reached what must have been the centre of the battle. Here he found a group of sixteen Moors. Inaki marvelled at the men. Dressed in black, they had been mounted. They were heavily armed, with spears, bows and strange curved swords. They had certainly put up a fight, killing at least twenty-five men before they had died. All had been wounded several times before being killed. From what he could see the attackers had fired a volley of arrows, followed by a charge. Several horses on both sides lay dead from arrows. Dead men lay all about him. Some had broken spears in their bodies, others had arrows, and some had deep swords cuts. It had been a bloody fight.

Storm growled. The horse had moved as Storm approached it and something on the ground was troubling him. Inaki moved over to the dog. A Moor lay on the ground. His helmet was split by a battle-axe or sword and he had an arrow in his chest. In his hand was a curved sword. Inaki kicked the sword away and bent down. Then he gave two short whistles. The men came charging down the hillside. When they reached him he gave instructions to lift the Moor towards the stream, where they took off his helmet and bathed his wound with salt and water. Inaki bandaged the wound and then cut away the leather jerkin studded with iron. To his surprise he found that the shirt underneath had been pushed by the arrow into the wound. He took the arrow with both hands and pulled it out. To his astonishment the shirt remained in the wound. The arrow was barbed and yet it had been prevented from anchoring itself into the flesh by the shirt.
What sort of magic was this
, Inaki thought to himself? He sat the man up and pulled the shirt over his head. It came away from the wound and began to bleed. He gave instructions that one of the men bring him some horsetail hair. With the horsehair and a needle he quickly sewed the wound. Then he placed fresh moss over it and bandaged it.