Site Library Library of Celtia

For the gods

Looking hard into the eyes of Caswallon, Cearas never waivered. "Again, I ask you, do you dare defy a druid?" ??Again I tell you, the Romans are here, raiding your lands, stealing your cattle and hauling your women off to be slaves while you stay drunk on their wine. If Caswallon wishes to be a Romans, let him stay here. He has had enough experience lying with them." Snickers rise up from the grove. "Let the rest of you tend to your own people, not to the glory of one, one without honor. Is there honor in not meeting a champion in combat, Caswallon? There still is the matter of your duel with Commius, or have you forgot that? Are you more willing to fight an outlander than to meet a Celtic champion in glorious combat. You left your clans warriors in Gaul!" The Druid roared, "What honor is there in that?" Her voice grew quietly, the venom dripping off her tongue, "You talk big for a man who's honor has diminished!" ??Her eyes narrowed as she moved closer to him, "Know this, chieftain though you may be, once a druid has passed judgement, there is no recourse for you...unless it can be proven the druid speaks false. Oy, and here I don't. Do not cross that line with me, Lord...or you'll find a sentence of death to be a mercy." Never looking up, she continued, "Know this too, my lieges, this judgement will too pass on your heads if you ignore the needs of your people. A Briton without honor is nothing. ??With that, she whirled and stormed out of the grove, meeting up with Lugotorix, who had waited for her. He raised an eyebrow but merely called for her horse. ??"Their honor now rests with them. Either Caswallon will chose to redeem himself or, with any luck, the Romans will take him." With that, the Cornovii turned and left.

After a time, Lugotorix was forced to ask, "My ears are good, Druidess, but I could not hear exactly what you spoke to Caswallon. I would know, if you would tell me." ??"Easy to tell, chief." Cearas calmly told the men what she had said. ??The young warriors stirred uneasily. Even Lugotorix, the most pragmatic and least superstitious of men, could have sworn that his chariot horses had spooked at her words. ??He smoothed his mustache. "That settles it. As if insults and threats from the Catuvallanuni were not enough, I will not go against a pronouncement of the Druids. If the gods will that the sky falls on Caswallon, or the sea rises to engulf him, I will not tempt them by standing beside him. We will go home, lads, and keep watch on our lands for any invaders. Epona protect us all."

They rode in silence. The clan is everything to the Celts and the fear of banishment runs deep. Once outlawed, no one could feed, clothe or even talk to them......death was preferable to the non existence of being clanless and without honor.

The sounds of cattle softly lowing broke the silence as they rode. One side of Lugotorix's mustached mouth rose up in a sardonic smile. He winked at Cearas.

When they finally rode into the village, the women, children and old men came out to the paddock to view the recent acquisitions.

Cearas cuffed the huge Celt on the shoulder, "Well, my liege, I know at least one chief in Briton who will rule another year. That prize bull of Caswallon should throw some fine calves."

That night, she stood behind the chief as he enjoyed the hero's portion. "I wonder if Caswallon has missed his cattle yet, especially his prize bull."

Lugotorix wiped his mouth on his sleeve, "Naw, he's courting the Romans." He laughed, "he soon won't need them. Tonight we dine, courtesy of the Catullevanis!"

____________________________________________________________

A runner came to house of Lugotorix Atrebas.

"News!" came the cry.

"What?" the chief asked brusquely.

The runner panted, and was given a mug of ale. "Good and bad. The good is that the Roman fort has been destroyed, and most of the Romans who were there are dead."

"At last!" Lugotorix frowned. "And the bad?"

"Very bad. The army in the north was almost wiped out, and Caswallon was taken prisoner."

"Huh! I would have thought Caswallon would kill himself rather than fall into our hands." He smoothed his moustache. "Do you have any more details?"

"No, lord Lugotorix. There is a great confusion throughout our island."

"Hmph. Well, rest up and return. We all need to know."

To his people, he said, "We lost much earlier, but we may have to share what we have left with some refugees. Make ready."

More carrion crows flew overhead.

"Badb Catha again," Lugotorix sighed. "She has turned against the Britons. What gods do these Romans bring with them, that sustain them so far from home?"

Many people, straggling along, hollow-eyed and exhausted, came to the clearing. There was a flurry of quiet embraces of those who had been given up for dead; the hostages Caswallon had taken who hadn't been killed in the battle.

An older man limped up to the chief. "Hail, lord."

"Welcome back, friend. I had not thought to see you again in this world. What news?"

"A slaughter. The Trinovantes have gone home, and released us so that they would no longer have to feed us, and told us to make our own way home."

Lugotorix sighed. "What of Caswallon's son?"

"No one seems to know," the man shook his head.

Lugotorix sat facing the sun, which had deigned to make an appearance. He was wrapped in his cloak, his young son cradled in his arms. Suddenly the little boy leaped to his feet.

"Cousin Epillus!" he called, running to the young man.

Lugotorix heaved a sigh of relief. He had worried greatly about losing his tanaiste; who would lead the Cornovii after him if anything happened to Epillus? But there were so few left who could be trusted.

"It's good to see you, lad," the chief said. "What news?"

Epillus shifted his little cousin around to sit piggy-back. "The Belgae prosper, as well they should. They have lost nothing since they have not raised a finger to help with the defense of Britain." He snorted in disgust.

"I wish there was something we could do."

"In our condition, not much. We can only look to our own defenses and beg the gods for favor."

After a minute's thought, he said, "I will take whoever can go and check our hillfort. You will take some of our people and scour our great White Horse back into shining beauty. Perhaps that will please the gods."

He tickled his son. "And take this wildcat with you. Mayhap working on the Horse will slow him down a notch."

Lugotorix smiled, watching his nephew and son leave. Perhaps the future would be all right after all.
?Lugotorix had insisted upon a warrior's escort for the group as they headed out for the healing waters. For once, Cearas welcomed the escort. Times were dangerous, there were homeless men, desperate men left clanless by the war, and there were still the Romans to be dealt with.

It had been a rough season, the whole tribe had been placed on the move when faced with 5,000 of Caswallon's men, then the hostages Caswallon took were forced to fight. Those who hadn't died were left to straggle home. At least soaking in the warm waters will help those who are well enough to get there.

It was slow going to the healing waters. As the main group continued over the causeway, a small group stopped. A young man, dressed in black began the rites. Caswallon of the Catuvellaui was dispatched reverently. First he suffered a blow to his head, then a fine rope was placed around his throat, before it was cut. No one knowing the deed which killed, they tossed his remains over the causeway. The blood from the wounds caused by the weapon was sprinkled over the trees.

Cearas and the others hoped the sacrifice would redress the misfortunes that have fallen on their tribe.

------------------------------------------

Lindow Man, or Pete Marsh, as he is sometimes affectionately known, was discovered in August, 1984 by commercial peat cutters.

For the gods