Bernard Cornwell - Stonehenge

'What of Kital,' Saban asked, 'their chief?'

'Kital of Cathallo died,' the spearman answered. 'He was slaughtered by Vakkal in one of the battles.' The listeners thumped their spear butts on the dry ground to show their pleasure at hearing that a hero of Sarmennyn had killed the enemy's chieftain. 'His successor sent us lavish gifts in hope of peace.'

'Were the gifts accepted?' Kereval wanted to know.

'In return for a settlement called Maden.'

'Where are the gifts?' Scathel asked.

'Half of them have been put aside,' the warrior answered, 'and will be brought to Sarmennyn.'

There was more pleasure at this, but Scathel silenced the approbation by standing to his full height. 'And what of our gold?' he demanded of the five warriors. 'Did Lengar of Ratharryn send any of our gold with you?'

'No,' the young man's leader confessed, 'but he showed it to us.'

'He showed it to you! How kind of him!' Scathel spoke derisively. The high priest had honoured the feast by dressing in a great woollen cloak that had been threaded with hundreds of gull feathers so that he seemed swathed in white and grey. His lank hair was bound with a leather band into which more feathers had been placed, while round his neck he had hung a chain of small bones. 'Erek's gold is being displayed in Ratharryn!' he said scornfully. 'All of it?'

This last question had been snapped in anger and the tone brought an expectant silence to the listening crowd. The five men looked abashed. 'Not all of it,' their leader confessed after a while. 'There were only three of the great pieces.'

'And some of the smaller pieces were gone too,' another of the warriors added.

'Gone where?' Scathel asked in a furious voice.

'Before we arrived,' the first man said, 'those pieces had been given away by Hengall.'

'Given to whom?' Kereval asked, shocked.

'To Cathallo.'

'And you defeated Cathallo?' Scathel roared. 'Did you not demand the return of the gold?'

'They claim the gold has vanished,' the young man said miserably.

'Vanished?' Scathel shouted. 'Vanished!' He turned on Kereval in a blind fury. The chief, Scathel said, had been stupidly trusting. He had believed Lengar's promises, but already part of the precious gold had been scattered like bird dung. And how much more of the gold would be given away? The crowd was all on Scathel's side now. 'Lengar will feel safe soon,' Scathel yelled. 'He has forced his enemy to plead for peace and soon he will not need our men! He'll slaughter them, then keep the gold. But we have him!' He pointed at Saban. 'I can make Lengar of Ratharryn scream for mercy. I can make him sweat at night, I can crease him with pain, I can make boils erupt on his skin, I can blind him! One eye first, and then the second eye, and then his hands, and after that his feet and, last before his life, his manhood. You think Lengar will not pray for eagles to fly our gold back to us as those wounds are torn into his rotting flesh?' The men cheered this speech, thumping their spear butts on the ground.

Kereval held up his hand for silence. 'Did Lengar promise to give us the treasure?' he asked the five warriors.

'He said he would exchange it for our temple,' their leader answered.

'You have chosen a temple?' Kereval asked Camaban.

Camaban looked surprised to be addressed, as though he had been paying no attention to the heated discussion. 'I'm sure we shall find one,' he said casually.

'But if you do find it,' Scathel jeered at Camaban, 'and if you move it, will your brother return our gold?'

Camaban nodded to the priest. 'He has agreed to do that.'

'He agreed,' Scathel said. 'He agreed! But he never told us that part of our gold was already given away! What else is he hiding from us? What else?' And with that question the gaunt priest suddenly crouched and put his head in his hands so that his long hair trailed in the dust. He mewed for a while, writhing in apparent pain, and the crowd held their breath, knowing that he was speaking with Erek. Saban glanced anxiously at Camaban, wondering why his brother did not put on a similar display, but Camaban just yawned again.

Scathel threw his head back and howled at the clear evening sky. The howl shrank into a mewing whimper and the priest's eyes rolled up so that only their whites showed. 'The god speaks,' he gasped in a hoarse voice, 'he speaks!' Saban fought off terror, suspecting only too well what message the god would bring. He looked at Camaban again, but Camaban had picked up a stray kitten and was unconcernedly plucking fleas from its fur. 'We must use blood!' Scathel shrieked, and with those words he flung a hand towards Saban. 'Seize him!'

A dozen warriors competed to hold Saban who had no time to defend himself. Haragg tried to pull some of the men off, but the trader was knocked down by a spear butt. Cagan roared and charged to his father's rescue and it took six men to tackle the mute giant and hold him face down beside the pit. Saban struggled, but the spearmen held him tight against the wall of Kereval's hut. They ignored the chief's protests for the news that part of Erek's gold had been given away had enraged them.

The high priest shrugged off the gull-feather cloak. He was naked now. 'Erek,' he shouted, 'what I do to this man, do to his brother!'

Saban could do nothing except watch Scathel walk towards him. There was triumph on the priest's face, triumph and excitement, and Saban realised that Scathel was enjoying this cruelty. Camaban was ignoring the confrontation, tickling the kitten's throat while Scathel took a flint blade from one of his priests. 'Take Lengar's eye!' Scathel shouted at the god, then reached out with his left hand and grabbed a handful of Saban's hair. The spearmen held him tighter, and all Saban could do was try to turn away as the flint blade came closer.

'No!' Aurenna's voice called.

The knife quivered like a great shadow at the edge of Saban's sight.

'No!' Aurenna said again. 'Not while I live!'

Scathel hissed and turned on her.

'Not while I live,' she repeated calmly. She had walked through the crowd and now faced Scathel boldly. 'Put the knife down.'

'What is he to you?' Scathel demanded.

'He tells me stories,' Aurenna said. She stared Scathel in the eye, and Saban, who thought the priest was tall, saw that the sun bride was very nearly the same height. She faced him in her white and gold splendour and her back was straight and her face as calm as ever. 'And when I go to my husband,' she told the priest, 'he will send a sign about the gold.'

Scathel's face twisted. He was being given orders by a girl, but the girl was a goddess and he could do nothing except obey and so he forced himself to bow his head and back away. 'Put him in the pit,' he ordered the two spearmen.

But again Aurenna intervened. 'No!' she said. 'He still has tales to tell me.'

'He must go into the pit!' Scathel insisted.

'Not till I leave,' Aurenna said and she stared into Scathel's eyes until the priest gave way. He signalled for the spearmen to let go of Saban's arms.

And next evening the pillar in the sun bride's temple had no shadow for there were thick clouds in the west. But the priests decided the time had come anyway.

In the dawn they would leave for the Sea Temple, and in the evening they would send Aurenna to the fire.

That night the wind rose, tugging at the thatch and thrashing at the trees. Saban lay in his pelt, swathed in misery, and he could have sworn he did not sleep at all, yet even so he did not see or hear Camaban stir in the night's heart and slip silently from the hut.

Camaban went to Malkin's shrine and there prayed to the weather god. He prayed for a long time as the wind fretted at the settlement's palisade and the small waves of the river were flecked with white. Camaban bowed to the god, kissing the idol's blackened feet, then he went back to Haragg's hut and wrapped himself in a cloak of bear's fur. He listened to Cagan snore, heard Saban whimper in his sleep and he closed his eyes and thought of the temple up in the hills, the Temple of Shadows: he saw it moved as if by magic to the green hill beside Ratharryn, and he saw the sun god poised above the hill, huge and bright and all-embracing, and Camaban began to weep for he knew he could make the world happy if only the fools did not thwart him. And there were so many fools. But then he, too, slept.