Druids (36 page)

“I want to discuss this with Vercingetorix.”

We kicked our horses into a gallop and surged out of the valley, riding southward across the gently undulating plain.

In order to talk with Rix this time, I would not have to go as far as Gergovia. We were to meet in the fortified town of Avaricum, where he was trying to convince Ollovico, king of the Bituriges, to join with us in a confederacy of Gaulish tribes resisting Caesar.

We reached Avaricum shortly after midday. The sun shone with a flat, metallic light, and the sky was dull in spite of a lack of cloud. The air smelled like dust. As we neared the town, I saw a sea of leather tents pitched in a random sprawl outside its walls, with vivid Arvemian standards fluttering from poles around me perimeter of the area. “See that, Tarvos. Vercingetorix has brought an army with him.”

“He’s a king,” the Bull replied sensibly.

We had ridden hard and I was more weary than I would admit. But the sight of the largest tent, with the standard of Rix’s own clan fluttering proudly above it, lifted my heart and I urged my horse into a smart trot toward the tent.

The sentry on duty outside shouted. Rix emerged, saw me, and ran forward to meet me. ‘ *I greet you as a free person!” he called while I sawed on the reins and tried to make my lathered horse rear on its haunches to impress him. The horse declined, shaking his head and backing up several paces instead. I should have known better; he was not a being who enjoyed having demands unexpectedly thrust upon him.

I managed to halt him and slid gratefully onto the unmoving earth.

“I didn’t know you rode,” Rix said as he came up to me and we hugged.

“My father was horse rank,” I reminded him. “My grandmother made certain I learned to ride, though I haven’t done much of it since my childhood.”

His eyes twinkled. “So I see. You can’t put your knees together, can you?” He laughed; we hugged and pounded each other. But when I drew back to get a good look at him, I saw new lines in his face. “Remind me to show you the black colt I’m training for myself,” he said as he led me to his tent. “A superb animal. For experienced riders,” he added, laughing again.

An aide poked his head through the tent flap. ‘ ‘Bring hot wa—

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ter,” Rix ordered. “And wine, and food for my friends. But hot water first.”

I had never been more grateful for the Celtic tradition that says a man must be allowed to bathe his face and feet after a journey before anything is expected of him.

When we were sitting at our ease in Rix’s tent, with my own Tarvos standing guard outside the door as well as Rix’s Arvemians, I told him of the Roman scouting party we had seen.

Rix scowled. “That’s a bad sign. I didn’t know they were in your territory.”

“Neither did we.”

1’ They probably hoped to stay out of sight, but your plains offer little cover.”

“Can you make a guess as to their destination?”

Rix rubbed his jaw thoughtfully; his fingers made his crisp beard crackle, ‘ ‘Looking for a site for another of Caesar’s camps, I’d say. There’s no doubt he’s begun a campaign against the Bel-gae, so he’ll be wanting fortifications to guard his supply lines.”

“Not in my land,” I growled.

Rix grinned. “You’re sounding very belligerent for a druid.”

“There’s no question of not fighting. It’s only a matter of when and how ”

“That’s why I asked you to join me, Ainvar. I’m going to need your help to convince Ollovico to stand with us. I’ve done everything I could think of, I even brought an army with me to let him see how ready we are, what splendid fighters he would be joining forces with. But he’s decided any form of union would be a threat to his personal sovereignty. He insists he can protect the land of the Bituriges without outside help, and says there is no reason why his tnbe should shed blood to defend some other tribe.”

“I doubt he’s the only king thinking that way. How many others have you succeeded in convincing?”

Rix rose and began pacing the limited confines of the tent. It was too small for him, but any enclosed space was always too small for Vercingetonx. “Not enough,” he said. “Notenoughat all. I’ve spent the winter traveling from tribe to tribe, letting Ha-nesa tell them how wonderful I am, contesting at arms with their best warriors, but I’m not making much progress. Perhaps I’m the wrong man for this, Ainvar.”

Self-doubt was so unlike him it worried me more than the Roman scouting party. “You’re the only man capable!” I insisted. “You’re made for it… and it was your father’s dream.”

Rix stopped pacing. “It was my father’s dream to make the

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Arvemi the dominant tribe in Gaul. That’s what some of the kings fear. They suspect I’m using this as a ploy to seize control of their tribelands. I repeat to them the words you said to me, but they don’t seem to have much effect when you’re not with me.”

“Perhaps one man cannot use another man’s magic,” I suggested.

He raised his hooded lids to glare at me. “I’m not talking about magic, Ainvar! Druid smoke and muttering. I’m talking about the real worid.”

“You have a limited vision of reality.”

“Ah no! You won’t get me involved in one of those convoluted druidic conversations! Surely you know by now that I don’t believe in the Order and what it stands for; I only believe in my good sword arm. That’s real.”

It was neither the time nor the place to attempt to restore Rix to harmony with the Otherworld. But someday soon I must, I realized, before disharmony made achievement impossible for him. As it was, he was right to doubt himself. Man cannot succeed by flesh alone. Earth and Otherworid always interact.

Even Caesar, though he sacrificed to Roman gods, operated on an instinctive level, obeying the pattern as it applied to him. The proof was in his accomplishments. If Rix was to be the weapon Gaul would use against Caesar, he must be as whole and as in

balance as we could make him.

Like Briga, though for a different reason, he would have to be taught. But would he accept? Menua had once told me, “Men do not believe what they cannot see, and they will not see what they do not believe. That is why magic is a mystery to them.”

But when would there be time to convince Rix he was galloping down the wrong path? If only I could take him, alone, to the grove, I thought… if only it were possible to subject him to the rituals reserved for druids …

“Ainvar?” he said sharply.

“I’ll go with you to Ollovico,” I said aloud, “and you will try again to persuade him. It must be your voice he hears, Rix, for it is your leadership he will have to accept. But before we go I’ll rehearse your arguments with you. Then you must say your own words, not mine. Say them your way.”

By the time we emerged from the tent a savage storm had swept out of the north, driven by a baleful wind. The sky was a sickly greenish color and forked spears of fire flickered on the horizon.

“We’ll ride into Avaricum together,” Rix told me. “Ollovico is tiring of the sight of my face, but he’ll welcome you.”

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Hanesa appeared out of nowhere, slowing us down, spewing words from his mouth as if they were pebbles too hot to hold. I appreciated his pleasure m seeing me, but was glad when Rix told him he must stay behind this time. There would be only Vercingetorix and myself and thirty of his warriors—and Tarvos, of course.

I always insisted on Tarvos.

The storm was drawing closer. “Lakutu hates this sort of weather,” Tarvos said as I stepped into his cupped hands and swung my leg over the back of my horse. I did not have time to reply. The skittish animal bolted forward at the sound of thunder, and I had to fight to bring it under control.

Rix rode up to us on a tall black colt with a fine head. The young stallion was snorting and rolling his eyes, but Rix controlled him deftly between leg and hand, turning nun so he could not see the lightning. “Do you like him, Ainvar?” he asked as he patted the glossy, arched neck.

“Very much. But I doubt if I could handle him.”

Rix grinned- “I doubt it, too. He accepts no one but me,”

“Horsemen always like to claim that,” Tarvos muttered to me from behind his hand.

Following Rix’s standard-bearer, we entered the gates ofAvar-icum, watched but unchallenged by the sentries. As servants were taking our horses, the storm broke over our heads; we ran the last

few paces to the king’s lodge.

“I welcome me chief druid of the Camutes as a free person,” OUovico told me. “And you also, Vercingetorix. Though we’ve seen rather too much of you recently.”

Rix has indeed pushed too hard, I thought. “The impetuosity of youth,” I said, smiling at OUovico as if we were two mature men together in a conspiracy against the overardent young. As I spoke, I envisioned myself old, gray-skinned, with the tracks of the seasons carved deep in my face. Concentrating, I forced flesh to obey spirit.

The druid whom OUovico saw seemed of an age with himself. Wise, experienced, more to be trusted. “You’re older than I remembered, Ainvar. Perhaps you can help me talk sense to this foolish feUow, since I know him for a friend of yours. I’ve given thought to the idea of a confederacy among the Gaulish tribes and decided it is madness,”

“Is it?” I asked innocently.

“Indeed. Here, sit … do you want water for your face? Or wine? You sit too, Vercingetorix, of course. … As I was saying,

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Ainvar, trying to get the tribes to accept each other as allies will never work. Why, Vercingetorix has been telling me I would have to serve in me field with the Turones, and we’re on the verge of war with them now over some women of ours they’ve stolen.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Haven’t you ever stolen their women?”

OUovico shrugged. His was an interesting face. Beneath thin, pinched nostrils shaped for sniffing disapproval, his mouth was a wide and amiable curve. He was caught between two poles of expression, never able to surrender completely to either. His frown could not frighten or his smile hearten.

“That’s different,” he was saying. “We need wives to bring fresh blood into our clans.”

“So do me Turones. You could have intermarriage between your tribes without warfare.”

“But there must be war, Ainvar! Victorious warriors get the pick of the best women, and women respect you more when you fight for them and win them.

“It’s only through tribal warfare mat we prove ourselves as men. Vercingetorix wants us to set aside centuries of tradition and flock together like sheep. I tell you, the women would laugh at us.”

Since the chief druid of the Caroutes had not proven himself an expert on female behavior, I decided it was time for Rix to take up the argument. “You wul have aU the fighting you want if you join Vercingetorix,” I said. “He teUs me Caesar is now attacking the Belgae.”

OUovico turned for me first time to Rix. “How do you know this?”

“I have sources among many tribes who are cooperating to keep an eye on the Roman. Working together, we foUow his every move as one tribe alone could not,”

WeU done, I thought.

‘ ‘If Caesar does attack the Belgae, what has that to do with me and my people?” OUovico wanted to know. “You still havent convinced me that any of this concerns the Bituriges.’ *

Rix leaned forward, fixing OUovico with a compelling, hooded gaze. “Caesar has trained his legions to move at a speed no other army can equal, m me Province I watched them driUing, day after day after day. Every man is taught to adjust his stride to the length of a short thrusting spear, then to quicken that pace to a speed near running and maintain it for half a day at a time.

“If Caesar has armies in the north and decides to bring them into central Gaul, he can be upon us before any tribe is prepared,

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as things arc now. If his legions are within seven nights of any one of us, they threaten us all, Ollovico.”

Rix paused for breath and glanced at me. I nodded encouragement. He continued. “This very day I have learned from Ainvar, here, that Roman patrols have been seen in the land of the Carnutes, no great distance from your Avaricum, OUovico. No distance at all, to a Roman.

“Think on it-Roman warriors in the heart of Gaul.

“For that reason the chief druid of the Camutes has come at the gallop to confer with the chief druid of the Bituriges … you know how members of the Order like to confer with one another in times of danger.”

Ollovico turned to me. “Is this true?”

“Ihi very concerned about the safety of the great grove.’*

His pupils dilated, “Caesar wouldn’t dare—’*

“Caesar would dare anything,’* Rix interposed. “He’s bringing more and more troops out of Latium and the Province, and they’re reportedly building both roads and permanent fortifications. They mean to stay in Gaul, Ollovico, within striking distance of your tribe and mine.’ *

“Not that close, surely …’*

Rix leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “From the great grove to Cenabum is not two days’ march at the speed of the legions,” he said in a matterof-fact tone. “The same again would bring them to the walls of Avaricum.”

Ollovico was wavering. I could see him trying to imagine distances and envisioning men marching. “Is it possible?”

“I assure you it is,” Rix told him. “I might be wrong by half a day, but no more than that. You are very vulnerable to Caesar, OUovico, we aU are. We can very easUy be caught in his closing fist. The sooner the tribes of free Gaul can be made to understand this and prepare for their mutual defense, the safer we’ll be.

“We need you and your Bituriges, OUovico, and you need the rest of us. Every tribe can guard its neighbors’ borders, and in the event of total war, aU our numbers together would be a match for Caesar’s legions. It’s very simple,” Rix concluded with an air of almost negligent disdain. “Stand with us or die alone.” Then he winked at me.

Because I was with him, he was sure of himself again. He denied the Otherworid, but when I, a representative of the spirits, was beside him, his balance was restored and his confidence returned.

Confidence is a powerful magic.

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