Bernard Cornwell - Stonehenge

'Guard it well,' Derrewyn said, then she walked to the Death Place's ditch and stared at the bodies. 'I hear,' she said over her shoulder, 'that your wife has become a goddess?'

'She has never claimed that,' Saban insisted.

'But she will not lie with you.'

'Did you come all this way to tell me that?' Saban asked, nettled.

Derrewyn laughed. 'You do not know where I have come from. Just as you do not know that your wife lies with Camaban.'

'That isn't true!' Saban snapped angrily.

'Isn't it?' Derrewyn asked, turning. 'Yet men say Camaban is Slaol and the women claim Aurenna is Lahanna. Are you not supposed to be bringing them together with your stones? A sacred marriage? Perhaps they rehearse the wedding, Saban?'

Saban touched his groin to avert evil. 'You tell stories,' he said bitterly, 'you have always told stories.'

Derrewyn shrugged. 'If you say so, Saban.' She saw how much she had upset him and so she walked to him and lightly touched his hand. 'I will not argue with you,' she said humbly, 'not on a day that I come begging a favour from you.'

'What you said isn't true!'

'I do tell stories,' Derrewyn said humbly, 'I am sorry.'

Saban took a deep breath. 'A favour?' he asked guardedly.

Derrewyn made an abrupt gesture towards the trees and Saban had the impression of six or seven people back there in the shadowed beeches, but only two emerged from the trees. One was a tall and fair-haired woman in a ragged deerskin tunic half covered with a sheepskin cloak, while the other was a child, perhaps Lallic's age or a year younger. She was a dark-haired girl with wide eyes and a frightened face. She stared at Saban, but clung tight to the woman's hand and tried to hide beneath the skirt of the sheepskin cloak.

'The forests are no place for a child,' Derrewyn said. 'We live hard, Saban. We steal and kill for our food, we drink from streams and we sleep where we can find safety. The child has been weak. We had another child with us, but he died last winter and I fear this girl will also die if she stays with us.'

'You want me to raise a child?' Saban asked.

'Kilda will raise her,' Derrewyn said, nodding at the tall woman. 'Kilda was one of my brother's slaves and she has known Merrel since birth. All I want from you is somewhere safe for Kilda and Merrel.'

Saban stared at the child, though he could see little of her face for it was tucked into the slave's skirt. 'She is your daughter,' he said to Derrewyn.

'She is my daughter,' Derrewyn admitted, 'and Camaban must never know that she lives, so from this day on she will carry another name.' She turned on Merrel. 'You hear that? And take that thumb from your mouth!'

The child abruptly snatched her hand away from her face and stared solemnly at Derrewyn who stooped so that her face was close to the child's. 'Your name will be Hanna, for you are Lahanna's child. Who are you?'

'Hanna,' the girl said in a timid voice.

'And Kilda is your mother, and you will live in a proper hut, Hanna, and have clothes and food and friends. And one day I shall come back for you.' Derrewyn straightened. 'Will you do that for me, Saban?'

Saban nodded. He did not know how he would explain the arrival of Kilda and Hanna, but nor did he care. He was lonely, and the work at the temple seemed endless, and he had missed his own daughter so Derrewyn's child would be welcome.

Derrewyn stooped and hugged her girl. She held the embrace for a long while, then stood, sniffed and walked back into the trees.

Saban was left with Kilda and the child. Kilda's skin was grubby and her hair a greasy tangle, but her face was broad, strong-boned and defiant. 'Come,' he said gruffly.

'What will you do with us?' Kilda asked.

'I shall find you a place to live,' Saban said, leading the two out of the trees and onto the open hillside. Across the low valley he could see the Sky Temple where the slaves ground, hammered and scraped the unyielding stones. Closer, just to the east of the sacred path, there was a huddle of slave huts from which wisps of smoke rose.

'Are you going to pretend we're slaves?' Kilda demanded.

'Everyone will know you are not my relatives,' Saban said, 'and you are not of the tribe, so what else could you be in Ratharryn? Of course you'll be slaves.'

'But if we are slaves,' Kilda said, 'your spearmen will use us.'

'Our slaves are under the protection of the priests,' Saban said. 'We are building a temple and when it is done the slaves will be free. There are no whips, nor are there spearmen watching the work.'

'And your slaves don't run?' Kilda asked.

'Some do,' Saban admitted, 'but most work willingly.' That had been Haragg's achievement. He had talked with the slaves, enthusing them with the temple's promise and though some vanished into the forests most wanted to see the temple built. They would be free when it was done, free to stay or go, and free to enjoy Slaol's blessings. They ruled themselves and carried no mark of slavery like Saban's missing finger.

'And at night?' Kilda asked. 'In the slave huts? You think a woman and a child will be safe?'

Saban knew there was only one sure way to keep Hanna safe. 'You will both live in my hut,' he said, 'and I shall say you are my own slaves. Come.' He led them down into the valley, which stank because it was here the slaves dug their dung pits, then up to the chalk ring where the air was clamorous with the sound of hammers on stone.

He took Kilda and Hanna to his hut and that night he listened as Kilda prayed to Lahanna. She prayed as she used to pray in Cathallo: that Lahanna would protect her worshippers from the spite of Slaol and from the scourge of Ratharryn. If Camaban heard that prayer, Saban thought, then Kilda and Hanna would surely die. He supposed he ought to protest to Kilda, demanding that she change her prayers, but he reckoned the gods were powerful enough to sort one prayer from another without his help.

Next day Camaban came to the temple and wanted to know when Saban would move the longest stones from Cathallo. 'Soon,' Saban said.

'Who is that?' Camaban had seen Kilda in the doorway of Saban's hut.

'My slave,' Saban said curtly.

'She looks as if you found her in the forest,' Camaban said scathingly, for Kilda was still dirty and her long hair was dishevelled. 'But wherever you found her, brother, take her to Cathallo and bring me the big stones.'

Saban did not want to take Kilda to Cathallo. She would surely be recognised there, and Hanna's life would be at risk, but Kilda would not leave him. She feared Ratharryn and trusted only Saban. 'Derrewyn said my safety lies with you,' she insisted.

'And Hanna's safety?'

'Is in Lahanna's hands,' Kilda declared.

So all three went to Cathallo.

'You shouldn't be coming to Cathallo,' Saban grumbled to Kilda. He was carrying Hanna who clung to his neck and watched the world from wide eyes. 'You'll be recognised, and this child will die.'

Kilda spat into the undergrowth. She had stopped at a stream and washed her face and dragged water through her hair, which she had then tied at the nape of her neck. She had a strong, bony face with wide blue eyes and a long nose. She was, Saban thought guiltily, a good-looking woman. 'You think I will be recognized?' Kilda asked defiantly. 'You are right, I will. But what does that matter? You think the people of Cathallo will betray us? What do you know of Cathallo, Saban? You can read its heart? The folk of Cathallo look back to the old days, to Derrewyn, to when Lahanna was properly worshipped. They will welcome us, but they will also keep silent. The child is as safe in Cathallo as if she were in Lahanna's own arms.'

'You hope that,' Saban said sourly, 'but you do not know it.'

'We have been to Cathallo often enough,' Kilda retorted. 'Your brother searched the woods for us, but some nights we even slept in Cathallo and no one betrayed us. We know what happens in Cathallo. One night I will show you.'