Bernard Cornwell - Stonehenge

The one-eyed man apologized for waking the great Hengall and said he would have happily conducted the transaction with one of Hengall's servants, but since the chief had been gracious enough to listen to their plea, would he also be kind enough to confirm that the missing treasures were indeed in his keeping?

'We normally throw trifles away,' Hengall said, 'but perhaps we kept them.' He gestured to the embankment where a group of small children, bored with the talk, were tumbling among the woad plants growing just beneath the Outlanders' heads that Lengar had brought back from the forest. Those heads had not come from the Outfolk of Sarmennyn, but from other Outfolk tribes who lived closer to Ratharryn, but their presence was still unsettling to the visitors. 'Children like bright things,' Hengall said, nodding towards the impaled heads, 'so maybe we kept your treasures to amuse the young ones? But you say you have brought other things to exchange for them?'

The strangers laid their gifts on the turf. There were some fine otter hides and seal skins, a basket of sea-shells, three bronze bars, a rod of copper, some curious sharp teeth that they claimed came from ocean monsters, a portion of shiny turtle shell and, best of all, some lumps of amber that were scarce as gold. Hengall must have noted that the bags were still half full for he stretched his arms, yawned again, tugged at the tangles in his beard and finally said that so long as he was awake he might go and talk to the goddess Mai about the prospect of catching some fish from her river. 'We saw some large pike there yesterday, did we not?' he called to Galeth.

'Very large pike.'

'I like eating pike,' Hengall said.

The strangers hastily added more bronze ingots and the people of Ratharryn murmured astonishment at the value of the gifts. And still the offerings came; some finely carved bone needles, a dozen bone combs, a tangle of fish-hooks, three bronze knives of great delicacy, and finally a stone axe with a beautifully polished head that had a blueish tinge and glittered with tiny shining flecks. Hengall lusted after that axe, but he forced himself to sound unimpressed as he wondered why the Outfolk had bothered to carry such miserable offerings so far from their own country.

The leader of the strangers added one final treasure: a bar of gold. The bar was the size of a spearhead and heavy enough to need two hands to carry it, and the watching crowd gasped. By itself that shining lump contained more gold than was in all the lozenges. The Outfolk were well known to be grudging with their gold, yet now they were offering a great piece of it, and that was a mistake for it contradicted their assertion that the missing treasures were mere trifles. Hengall, still pretending to be indifferent, pressed the strangers until, reluctantly, they confessed that the missing treasures were not trivial at all, but sacred objects that arrayed the sun's bride each year. The treasures, the grim-faced Haragg admitted, had been gifts from their sea god to Erek himself and the people of Sarmennyn feared that their loss would bring ill fortune. The strangers were pleading now. They wanted their treasures back, and they would pay for them dearly because they were terrified of Erek's displeasure.

'Erek is their name for Slaol,' Valan told Hengall.

Hengall, pleased to have forced the admission from the strangers, stood. 'We shall think on this matter,' he announced.

Food was fetched from the settlement. There was cold pork, flat bread, smoked fish, and bowls of chickweed and sorrel. The strangers ate warily, fearful of being poisoned, but afraid to give offence by rejecting the food. Only their priest did not eat, but just lay staring into the sky. Gilan and Ratharryn's priests huddled together, whispering fiercely, while Lengar and his friends formed another small group at the circle's far side. Folk came to inspect the offered gifts, though none crossed the charm-ringed circle to touch them for the gifts had still not been cleansed of Outfolk sorcery by Ratharryn's priests. Hengall talked with the elders and sometimes asked questions of the priests, though it was mainly with Gilan that he talked. The priest had now made two visits to Cathallo and he spoke urgently with Hengall who listened, nodded and finally seemed convinced by whatever Gilan urged on him.

The sun was sliding down to its western home when Hengall resumed his place, but custom demanded that any man in the tribe could have his opinion heard before Hen-gall pronounced a decision. A few men did stand and most advised accepting the Outfolk's payment. 'The gold is not ours,' Galeth said, 'but was stolen from a god. How can it bring us good luck? Let the strangers have their treasures.' Voices murmured in support, then Lengar beat the ground with his spear staff and the murmurs died as Hengall's son stood to address the crowd.

'Galeth is right!' Lengar said, causing surprise among those who thought that the two men could never agree. 'The Outfolk should have their treasures back. But we should demand a higher price than these scourings from their huts.' He gestured at the goods piled in front of the strangers. 'If the Outfolk want their treasures returned, then let them come from their far country with all their spears and all their bows and offer themselves to our service for a year.'

Haragg, the Outfolk interpreter, whispered to his companions, who looked worried, but Hengall shook his head. 'And how are we to feed this horde of armed Outfolk?' he asked his son.

'They will feed from the crops and cattle that they capture with their weapons.'

'And what crops and cattle are they?' Hengall asked.

'Those that grow and graze to the north of us,' Lengar answered defiantly, and many in the tribe voiced their agreement. The tribe of Sarmennyn was famous for its warriors. They were lean, hungry men from a bare land and they took with their spears what their country could not provide. Such feared warriors would surely make brief work of Cathallo and more of Hengall's folk raised their voices in Lengar's support.

Hengall raised his vast club for silence. 'The army of Sarmennyn,' he said, 'has never reached this far into the heartland. Yet now you would invite them? And if they do come with their spears and their bows and their axes, how do we rid ourselves of them? What is to stop them turning on us?'

'We shall outnumber them!' Lengar declared confidently.

Hengall looked scornful. 'You know how many spears they muster?' he demanded, pointing to the strangers.

'I know that with their help we can destroy our enemies,' Lengar retorted.

Hengall stood, a sign that Lengar's time of talking was over. Lengar stayed on his feet for a few heartbeats, then reluctantly squatted. Hengall spoke in a loud voice that reached the outermost part of the crowd. 'Cathallo is not our enemy! Cathallo is powerful, yes, but so are we! The two of us are like dogs. We can fight and maim each other, but the wounds we would inflict would be so deep that neither of us might live. But if we hunt together we shall feed well.' The tribe stared at him in silent surprise. They had expected a decision about the gold lozenges and instead the chief was talking of the problem of Cathallo.

'Together!' Hengall shouted. 'Together, Cathallo and Ratharryn will be as strong as any land in this earth. So we shall bind ourselves in a marriage of tribes.' That news caused a loud gasp from the crowd. 'On midsummer's eve we shall go to Cathallo and dance with their people.' The crowd thought about that, then a slow-growing murmur of agreement spread among them. Only a moment before they had been eagerly supporting Lengar's idea of conquering Cathallo, now they were seduced by Hengall's vision of peace. 'Gilan has talked with their chief and he has agreed that we shall not be one tribe,' Hengall declared, 'but two tribes united like a man and a woman in marriage.'

'And which tribe is the man?' Lengar dared to shout.

Hengall ignored him. There will be no war,' he said flatly, then he looked down at the strangers. 'And there will be no exchange,' he went on. 'Your god was given the treasures, but you lost them, and they were brought to us. They came to our Old Temple, which tells me they are meant to stay here. If we give back the gold, we insult the gods who sent the treasures to our keeping. Their coming is a sign that the temple must be restored, and so it shall be! It will be rebuilt!' Gilan, who had been urging that course, looked pleased.

The one-eyed man protested, threatening to bring war to Ratharryn.

'War?' Hengall brandished his great club. 'War!' he shouted. 'I will give you war if you come to Ratharryn. I will piss on your souls, enslave your children, make playthings of your women and grind your bones to powder. That is war as we know it!' He spat towards the strangers. 'Take your belongings and go,' he ordered.

The stranger's priest howled at the sky and their leader tried a last appeal, but Hengall would not listen. He had rejected the exchange and the Outfolk had no choice but to pick up their gifts and return to their horses.

But that evening, when the sun was tangled among the western trees like a fish caught in a woven-willow trap, Lengar and a dozen of his closest supporters left Ratharryn. They carried bows and spears and had their hounds leashed on long leather ropes, and they claimed they were going back to their hunting grounds. But it was noted that Lengar also took an Outfolk slave, a woman, and that shocked the tribe for women were not taken on hunting expeditions. And that night a half-dozen more young women slipped out of Ratharryn, so next morning the horrified tribe realized that Lengar had not gone hunting at all, but had fled, and that the women had followed their warrior lovers. Hengall's anger overflowed like the river flooding with storm water. He raged at the malign fate that had sent him such an elder son, then he sent warriors on Lengar's trail, though none expected to catch up with the fugitives who had too long a start. Then Hengall heard that Jegar, who was reckoned Lengar's closest friend, was still in Ratharryn and the chief summoned Jegar to his hut door and there ordered him to abase himself.

Jegar lay flat on the ground while Hengall raised his war club over the young man's head. 'Where has my son gone?' he demanded coldly.

'To Sarmennyn,' Jegar answered, 'to the Outfolk.'

'You knew they planned this,' Hengall asked, his rage mounting again, 'and did not tell me?'

'Your son put a curse on my life if I betrayed him,' Jegar said.

Hengall kept the club poised. 'And why did you not go with him? Are you not his soul's friend?'

'I did not go,' Jegar answered humbly, 'because you are my chief and this is my home and I would not live in a far country beside the sea.'

Hengall hesitated. He plainly wanted to slam the club down and spatter the earth with blood, but he was a fair man and he controlled his anger and so lowered the weapon. Jegar had answered his questions well and though Hengall had no liking for the young man, he still raised him to his feet, embraced him, and gave him a small bronze knife as a reward for his loyalty.

But Lengar had gone to the Outfolk. So Hengall burned his son's hut and pounded his pots to dust. He killed Lengar's mother, who had been his own first wife, and he ordered Gilan to use the Kill-Child on a boy who was popularly supposed to be Lengar's son. The child's mother screamed, begging for mercy, but the aurochs' bone swung and the boy died. 'He never lived,' Hengall decreed of Lengar. 'He is no more.'

Next day was the eve of midsummer and the tribe would walk to Cathallo. To make peace. And to face Sannas.

—«»—«»—«»—

At the dawn of the day on which the tribe was to walk north, Saban's father brought him a deerskin tunic, a necklace of boar's teeth and a wooden-handled, flint-bladed knife to wear in the belt. 'You are my son,' Hengall told him, 'my only son. So you must look like a chief's son. Tie your hair back. Stand straight!' He nodded curtly to Saban's mother, his third wife, whom he had long since ceased to summon to his hut, then went to examine the white sacrificial heifer that would be goaded to Cathallo. Even Camaban went to Cathallo. Hengall had not wanted him to go, but Gilan insisted Sannas wanted to see Camaban for herself. So Galeth had fetched the crippled boy from his lair in the Old Temple, and now Camaban limped a few paces behind Saban, Galeth and Galeth's pregnant woman, Lidda. They walked north along the hills above the river valley and it took a whole morning to reach the edge of that high land which meant they were now halfway to Cathallo. For most of the people who stood on the crest and gazed at the woods and marshes ahead, that was the greatest distance they had ever walked from home.