The Making of the Lamb Read online

  Tristan shook his fist. They were too late to catch the pirates.

  Then they heard crying: a girl was found hiding behind a tree. She would not speak. One of the men shook her gently, but it only made her cry more.

  Some of the men ran up from the riverbank. “We found the pirates’ boats,” one of them said.

  “They’re still around somewhere,” another muttered, “but judging by the number and size of the craft, we may be outnumbered.”

  Elsigar turned his attention back to the girl.

  “Give her to me,” said Jesus. “She has just seen her family killed or driven off.” Gently he held her and let her finish crying in his arms. She pointed across the Camel River estuary to indicate the pirates’ next target.

  “That would be Rock Village,” said one of the men.

  The mystery became clearer. “Of course,” Elsigar said. “The smoke and flames of Padstow would have been seen from across the river, and the other villagers would have lined the opposite shore to cry out against the pirates.” The fierce wind blowing off the moor stirred the estuary into a frenzy of waves. “The crossing is too hazardous, so the pirates will be on the march around the estuary by land.”

  With some gentle prodding, Jesus got the girl to confirm this. After killing the men and burning the houses, the pirates had left on foot with the women and children of the village.

  Tristan pointed to the boats. “Set them on fire!”

  “No, stay your hand,” Jesus cried. He knelt, folded his hands, and prayed.

  Within moments the winds were stilled and the waters calmed.

  The men scattered the horses to deny them to the pirates and then set out in the boats.

  Elsigar was the last one off the beach. He looked at Jesus with amazement. He worked no magic, but his prayers to his god are full of power.

  Daniel

  They arrived in Rock Village an hour after dawn as the men of the village were making their last stand. The pirates charged in, expecting to scatter the few remaining villagers. Tristan’s men leaped eagerly from the boats and attacked on a run from the shore, surprising the pirates.

  Jesus and Fedwig fought side by side. As Fedwig wildly swung his battle-axe, Jesus thrust his sword home again and again with precision. The combination created a killing zone as one pirate after another was caught in the middle and found himself unable to resist both fighting styles at the same time.

  Behind them, Elsigar shouted incantations and brought down curses on the enemy.

  Quickly, the battle turned.

  Daniel was among the last off the boats. He wielded a battle-axe given by Fergus. Running to the village, he found the battle well under way.

  The mass of fighting pirates parted for a moment, and Daniel saw the shackled women and children from Padstow. He charged through the gap and began smashing apart shackles with his axe.

  The pirates broke off their attack and started to fall back. Those able to turn around saw Daniel freeing the last of the captives—their booty. With a shout, they charged toward him.

  Daniel did not know what came over him as he turned and swung the battle-axe. The pirates drew back, not knowing what to make of this crazy bearded warrior. Their hesitation gave Daniel the moment he needed. He turned and ran for his life.

  He collected the freed women and children on a hill beyond the village. They watched as the pirates fled into the countryside.

  Daniel never expected to find himself the hero in any battle, but that was how he was greeted. Jesus and Fedwig both hugged him, overjoyed that he was safe. Even Pirro had made it through.

  As the sun climbed higher, Tristan burned the pirates’ boats. Clouds of thick black smoke billowed skyward. Tristan propped his hands on his hips. “Whatever happens, this band won’t make it back to Eire easily.”

  But the pirates did not fade back as Tristan expected. They stayed out of range yet still near the village, taunting the defenders with shouted threats and boasting that reinforcements would soon arrive. As dusk fell, the pirates lit a signal fire atop a hill. It would be seen for miles out to sea. The threats and boasts were anything but idle.

  Tristan gathered his men. “We cannot hold this village if more pirates come. All must make for Rumps Castle. We have two horses. We can mount two warriors to ride out and alarm the country for all good men to hurry to the castle. With a few dozen more, we can man the ramparts and hold the fort against thousands.” He addressed the villagers. “Gather such food as you can carry. Do not linger to save your possessions.”

  “Which way is the castle?” asked Jesus.

  Tristan pointed north. “We will stay on the shoreline so we can see by the moon.”

  Elsigar stepped forward. “That will bring you to the castle from the west. Rumps is a holy place, and it is forbidden for men at arms to approach from that direction. You must go through the forest.”

  “Surely the pirates will see us coming and wait for us in ambush,” said Jesus.

  “It would be a great impiety for men at arms to approach the other way. It is the way of the evil druid Athirne,” Elsigar replied. “But do not fear. I will turn the roots and trees against the enemy.”

  Jesus shook his head.

  “It is pointless to argue,” Fedwig whispered. “The men dare not offend the gods.”

  “How many of our men must die because of this superstition?” Jesus whispered back. But Fedwig was right. Tristan spoke to Elsigar about sending the women and children, at least, by the safer route, as they would not carry weapons. The druid reluctantly agreed to that.

  The two riders prepared to leave. Elsigar whispered some final instruction to them.

  Daniel shook his head in frustration. What further mischief could the old druid be about?

  Jesus and Daniel approached Tristan. “We’ll go with the women and children and help look out for them,” Daniel said.

  “I cannot allow you to carry a weapon if you go that way,” Tristan answered. “It will be perilous. You must rely on stealth. If you are discovered you can expect no mercy from our enemies.”

  “It is more dangerous for us to offend our God by following the druid into the forest,” said Jesus.

  “I saw the power of your god when you calmed the waters of the Camel.”

  “I only prayed for that. I am no conjurer.”

  “Pray for us all to be safe this night, then, my friend.”

  “That I will do,” Jesus promised.

  At last the women and children were ready. Elsigar had brewed up a potion to put the youngest to a sound sleep so they would not cry out as their mothers carried them through the darkness.

  Fortunately, the tide was low and the moon was full, allowing the women to find their way between the sea and the base of the seaside cliffs. Jesus, Daniel, and a few of the wounded men scouted from the cliff tops, signaling each other by hand and ever wary for any sign of the enemy.

  The going was slow. Every so often an outcropping of cliff or an arm of the sea cut off the lower path of the women, and they had to double back to find a detour up and down the high ground. That was when they were most exposed in the moonlight. Even if the children made no sound, the men and women feared that the movement of their shadows might attract the attention of their foes across the vales.

  Hour by treacherous hour the night wore on. They worked their way around the headland, and then they started to follow the shoreline to the east.

  Pirro

  Pirro had not been overly surprised when Elsigar pronounced the prohibition on approaching the castle the easy way. He knew of the taboos the druids called geia. Caesar had written that the Aeduen magistrate was not allowed to venture beyond the borders of his people. There were more examples in the legends. The greatest Celtic warriors were subjected to the greatest taboos. They could not kill birds, cross certain rivers, listen to certain harps, or bed certain women. Sometimes they fell victim to conflicting geia, leading to their demise. But Pirro was an educated Greek. He cared no more abo
ut druidic beliefs than he did about the Jews’ God. For him it was a simple calculation. Given the options, it is safer for me to march with the warriors. Jesus was right about one thing. That confounded druid will get us all killed.

  The men advanced through the unfriendly forest with wary steps. There was no point in attempting stealth. They could hear the enemy around them on all sides. The attack was inevitable, and it would be at the time and place of the enemy’s choosing. All they could do was march on as Elsigar shouted incantations at the enemy.

  With a shout from their right, the attack came. The pirates had chosen the place well. They had the high ground. Missiles rained down. A thrown stone hit Pirro’s head. It was not a fatal blow, but it dazed him enough for Pirro to doubt his senses. He looked around trying to get his bearings. Something was not right. The trees are moving!

  Jesus

  “There it is,” announced one of the women.

  Jesus paused to look. In the first rays of dawn, he saw a curious formation. A promontory with three hills stretched a thousand feet into the sea. From the west, the entire promontory was faced with a sheer cliffside, rising at least fifty feet from the thundering waves. Three bands of earthworks, topped by ramparts and separated by ditches, stretched across the narrow isthmus. Unlike Castle An Dinas, there was no long perimeter to defend. No matter how many men the enemy brought, it would be impossible to concentrate more than a hundred of them at once against the ramparts in an attack from the land, and they would face a killing zone similar to Castle An Dinas in the maze of ditches leading to the entrance.

  The way to the castle entrance being clear, they abandoned stealth and broke into a run. The few sentries let them through. The armory yielded spears, swords, and battle-axes. It felt strange to pass them among the women, but there were not enough men. They would be able to hold the ramparts for an hour or two if the pirates attacked in force, but they sorely needed Tristan’s men to defend the ramparts against any sustained attack.

  Fergus

  With Elsigar nowhere to be found, preparations for the funeral of King Uryen went ahead under the supervision of another druid. Perhaps it was for the best. Everyone at Castle An Dinas knew how Uryen had earned Elsigar’s displeasure by turning from druidism.

  Fergus knew Grannus was already trying to ingratiate himself with the druids, but while the druids had a lot of influence, it was up to the warriors to elect the new king. The druids would have to confirm it, but could withhold that confirmation only on the grounds of impiety.

  The future of the western Dumnonii hung in the balance. If elected king, Grannus would continue to ignore the danger. Fergus’s chance to state his own case and bring the warriors to his side would come when he gave the funeral oration for his father. It would need to be a speech not only to extol the virtues of the late King Uryen, but also to inspire the tribe to defend itself. It must be a funeral oration worthy of remembrance. Where is Tristan? He should be back by now.

  Daniel

  The sea breeze ruffled Daniel’s hair as he peered out from the ramparts. Waves crashed against the rocks below, but he could still hear shouts coming from the forest. Figures emerged one by one. Friend or foe? It was hard to tell from a distance. The British Celts looked much like the Scotti. As more men emerged, it seemed there were far too many of them. This could not be good. There was only one explanation. More pirates must have arrived to slaughter Tristan’s men in the forest. Daniel and Jesus, along with the women and children, were next.

  Wait! Could that be Pirro? It must be. No one else wears a tunic so awkwardly. That certainly looks like Tristan’s horned helmet. Perhaps one of the pirates is wearing it as a trophy. But it still looks like Tristan.

  Hope rose and then turned to joy as the men came closer. It was Tristan’s band indeed, stained with the blood of a great victory.

  Jesus and Daniel spotted Fedwig, and they ran out to embrace him.

  “It was just as Elsigar said,” shouted Fedwig. “He turned the trees against the pirates!”

  For once Jesus stood perplexed. “That makes no sense!”

  “Your friend speaks true.” Pirro laughed. “I saw it with my own eyes—just—well—there was no magic in it, though.”

  “Is everyone mad? Trees don’t take part in a battle,” said Daniel.

  “Actually, it’s something right out of a scroll I read once,” Pirro went on. “It was another history of Rome, by a scholar named Livy. As I remember, the Gauls once used the same tactic against the Romans. They cut a grove of trees just short of causing them to fall. A Roman legion came through and walked into the trap. The Gauls started pushing the trees over, and the legionnaires were caught among the falling timbers. They were surprised and slaughtered when the Gauls charged.”

  “Elsigar told the riders that the local men should do the same thing,” said Fedwig. “Our men got to the forest first. It was obvious where the pirates would come at us, and we saw the obvious place to anticipate the attack—where the road winds around some rock outcroppings. The men prepared the trees, just as Pirro said. The pirates came along thinking they were laying this great ambush, but once the trees started falling on them, they were trapped. We must have killed half of them. The rest scattered.”

  “We’re not safe, then? Why don’t we hunt down the rest of them before they hurt anyone else?” Jesus asked.

  “I’m afraid the pirates lit another signal fire,” Tristan removed his helmet and ran his fingers through sweaty hair. “There will be more on their way. We heard them still boasting of it. We need to make ready the defenses of the castle.”

  Elsigar came along as they started back to the castle gates. “So, tell me, Jesus. What do you think of my magic now? Is it just superstition?”

  Jesus raised an eyebrow. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” As the druid continued on his way, Jesus whispered to Daniel with a laugh, “That didn’t sound half bad for a pagan, actually.”

  “I heard that.”

  Daniel could not help smiling at Jesus. That is one sharp-eared druid.

  They spent the rest of the day organizing the defenses. More men arrived from the countryside. Some brought their women and children. Tristan shook his head. There would be many mouths to feed. They sent out warrior parties to scavenge the countryside for livestock and food. They burned anything they could not bring back to deny it to the enemy.

  The training came next. The men were eager to defend their homeland, but most were peasants and craftsmen, unskilled in the warlike arts. Largely isolated, the Dumnonii tended to be peaceful, but that blessing was now a weakness. Tristan set his few warriors to drilling the newcomers. The best of them were given spears and bows. The others were told to gather up rocks to throw. There was no time to teach the wielding of a sword or battle axe.

  Pirro chuckled. “I feel a little more useful now. It won’t take much skill to hurl rocks down from the ramparts. I can handle that.”

  Daniel agreed with him.

  During a rest break, Daniel and Jesus looked around. The cliff on which the castle stood was divided into two promontories, each pointing into the ocean on either side of a small bay no bigger than two hundred feet. A small hill crowned by a stockade sat on each promontory. The third hill was behind the fortifications across the isthmus, crowned by the highest stockade to form a citadel, connected to the ramparts by a stairway raised on posts above the ground. Between the three hills and the small bay was a depression that formed a natural amphitheater.

  As dusk fell, Elsigar came up to them. “Have you noticed what makes this site such a holy place for us?”

  Daniel looked around. “It is certainly an unusual formation. You could make an altar and conduct religious ceremonies for a thousand people in the amphitheater.”

  “Yes, we do that. The setting is quite dramatic. But there is a deeper symbolism. We come here to honor Lugh and Minerva.”

  Jesus, Daniel, and Pirro looked at each other blankly.

  “The left-hand promontory i
s named Diancech,” said Fedwig, “and the one on the right is named Balor.”

  “I am glad to see that you remember something from my teachings.”

  The others joined the druid in laughter. Fedwig blushed and looked at the ground.

  “Do you remember old Bacchus, Daniel?” remarked Jesus. “The bargeman who brought us down the Loire? He told us a story about Lugh. Dianceth and Balor were Lugh’s two grandfathers. One was a god and the other was a giant. It was from them that Lugh inherited his two natures—god and giant, So, I assume the two promontories represent the two natures of Lugh.”

  “Now for the three hills. Do you remember them, too, Fedwig?”

  “I’m too big now for you to beat me if I mess this up, right?”

  “Don’t tempt me,” the druid replied gravely, as the others smiled.

  Fedwig pretended to be greatly afraid, and then he answered. “There’s Morrigan atop Dianceth, and Bodbh atop Balor, and Macha here next to the gate.”

  Pirro chimed in. “Morrigan, the great sorceress. Bodbh, the great warrior crow. And Macha, the great queen. You honor the three persons of the druid’s goddess, too, the one that takes after the Greek Minerva.”

  “Very good,” said the druid. “You figured it all out.”

  “Hold on,” said Jesus. “I think there might be something more. Let me see. Three hills represent three persons—one god. Two promontories represent two natures—one person.” Jesus started looking around, and then he stepped back to take in the entire vista. His jaw dropped in amazement. “I’ve got it!”

  “Got what? There’s nothing more,” said the druid.

  “You missed the most important part. Everything is unified to the same purpose. There is only one fort, but each hill and each promontory plays its part in it. They are all the same, and they are all different. Just as there is only one God in three persons—God the Father Creator, God the Son of Man and Son of God, and God the Holy Spirit. The Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy Spirit is God. They work one will. But the Father is not the Son, and the Son is not the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit is not the Father.”