Chapter One

  They crept, ghost like, through the dense undergrowth, their rough buckskins stained from this morning’s exertions. Carefully, they placed their feet so as avoid twigs and deadwood, giving their quarry no hint of their coming. No careless noise was heard. The elder of the two, a lean, tanned man of average height raised his hand and motioned the other to stop.

  “There he is, Gryffin.” He whispered as he pointed out their intended victim between the trunks of Oak trees. “We’ve done well. He isn’t even aware that we are here – luckily for us!”

  The younger man nodded, giving him a tight-lipped nervous smile. “Shall I take him now, Dougal, or shall I try and get a bit closer?”

  Dougal thought it over for a second, looking at the ground they would have to cross to get a better shot. If he had been on his own, he would have risked closing the distance by half to be certain of the kill. Gryffin, however, lacked the concentration essential for long bouts of stalking, and although he hated to say it of his younger brother, he lacked the heart of a true hunter. He refocused on the target. The shot, though difficult, was possible for anyone who had a reasonable amount of skill with the long hunting bows they both carried, and Gryffin certainly had that. When shooting at practice targets his brother was almost his equal. But this was a live target, and he was aware that Gryffin lacked a certain clinicalness. “Do you think you can hit him from here?”

  Gryffin nodded, his mop of red hair falling forward over his eyes. Brushing it back, he carefully selected a clothyard arrow. He quickly checked the fletching and sighted along the length of the shaft to ensure that it was straight. Satisfied, he knocked the arrow and drew back the string.

  “Aim for the chest.” His brother offered quietly. “It’s a bigger target and it’ll take him straight down.”

  Gryffin made no acknowledgement, his sole focus drawn down the shaft and along the imaginary line from the bow to the target’s chest, just as he had been taught. Yet even as he let fly, Gryffin knew that he would miss. The young Stag, whether through boredom or some sixth sense, chose that exact moment to move. The arrow streaked between the huge boles of Ash and Oak only to find its intended mark already moving. The shot ricocheted harmlessly off the top of the Deer’s head, leaving the startled stag bolting away to the safety of the deeper woods.

  “Oh, bugger and damn it!” Said Gryffin in disgust. “I don’t think that I’ll ever get the hang of being a Huntsman.” He threw his bow to the floor and slumped down against the moss-covered trunk of a nearby tree.

  “You better had.” Said Dougal as he walked across to where the young buck had been grazing. He quickly returned and continued. “It’s what we are. If you cannot bring down an animal with your bow, then you had better get used to the taste of rabbit stew! Always assuming, that is, that you get the hang of setting snares….” He dropped a severed antler on his brother’s lap, the blood soaking into the velvet at one end that suggested how close he had come to killing the young animal. “You think Bronty will be able to do anything with this?” He grinned at his despondent brother. “Soup, maybe?”

  “Hells and damnation!” swore Gryffin again. “I’m sorry Dougal, I really am. If it were just me that was going hungry then I wouldn’t mind so much. I deserve it for my own stupidity, but Bronty needs good food in her condition. The baby is due anytime and she shouldn’t have to starve for my lack of ability.”

  Dougal ruffled his younger brother’s unruly red hair affectionately. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Gryff.” He said. “The goddess obviously decided that it wasn’t the deer’s time to leave this life. Who are we to argue?” He looked up at the patches of sky visible through the leafy canopy. It looked to be just short of midday. Still, plenty of time to get food for tonight’s table! A boyish smile split his face as he continued. “Let’s go and see if the goddess minds too much if a few rabbits leave this world for her Paradise. I set some traps yesterday. Maybe we’ve caught something.” He started to walk off back in the direction of home and the snares. “If not, then the taste of a bowl of nourishing ‘antler soup’ will sound much more appealing! Be sure to bring it along with you. Perhaps she won’t be so angry if she realises how close you were this time.”

  Gryffin scrambled to his feet, grabbed both his bow and the antler, and ran after his brother. As he caught up with him Dougal put his arm around his shoulders, and with no thought to silence now, they walked in close companionship, the elder asking the younger questions of wood and animal lore, teasing, joking and teaching the two leagues back to the farmstead.

  The timber and stone, straw thatched cottage lay in a clearing near the edge of the woods. A small kitchen garden adjoined it on one side and a barn, with a collection of smaller outbuildings, lay across the clearing from it. In between was a nicely maintained yard with a central, low walled well around which strutted an army of chickens under the watchful eyes of a rooster-general who sat on the side panel of a flatbed wagon. Occasionally he could be seen dropping to the ground to do the thing that roosters do best, but for the most part he merely watched. It was towards late afternoon that Dougal and Gryffin walked into the clearing, bows slung across their shoulders, hands hidden behind them. As they approached the cottage the door was opened by a small, slight woman in her mid-twenties. Her swollen abdomen announced that she was in the later parts of her pregnancy. In fact, she felt the baby moving so regularly and energetically, she felt that it would arrive any time now. Her short cropped blond hair danced in the slight afternoon breeze as she watched her two ‘providers’ approach.

  “Hello Husband; Gryffin.” She said working hard to keep a straight face as she acknowledged them both. “So where is the meat you have both been away all day catching?”

  Gryffin pulled a brace of rabbits, already cleaned and gutted, from behind his back. He tried to smile triumphantly at their meagre catch.

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  “Rabbits? Again?” Asked Bronty, her mouth twitching at Gryffin’s embarrassment at their catch. “I thought that you were going to hunt Deer?”

  With a crooked smile, Dougal pulled out the antler from behind his own back. “Almost!” he said.

  Bronty finally gave in and laughed aloud. “Oh, my poor Gryffin. You came so close this time!” She gave him a consolatory hug, then hugged and kissed her husband. “Maybe it’s your fool of a brother’s teaching that is at fault.” She said as she gazed at Dougal. “I hear tell that there is a good hunter out towards the old ruins. Maybe he is on the lookout for a new apprentice?”

  “Be quiet, wench!” Said Dougal. “He has the best teacher any man could wish for. He has me! Tomorrow we shall have Deer, killed by the famous woodsman, Gryffin.” He paused and laughed a little ruefully as he looked at his brother’s still outstretched hand. “But for tonight it is to be rabbit, so get back inside and cook. Your husband and his brother hunger after a long day in the woods!”

  She took the dead animals from Gryffin and went to go inside. “Rabbit again.” She sighed. “Rabbit stew, rabbit pie, roast rabbit.” Bronty turned suddenly on Dougal, brandishing the animals. “You know, this could be the reason I’m in this state.” She indicated her swollen belly. “I must be at least half rabbit with all we have eaten of it lately.”

  Gryffin looked at the ground, his discomfort advertised by his now scarlet ears. Dougal snorted. “Get inside with you, you evil woman. My brother and I want some ale”.

  “After you have cleaned out the stable.” She Said, barring the way inside with her arm.

  “But I want a drink. Can’t it wait until later?”

  “No, because it won’t get done. You are not eating tonight until you have seen to the horse. So go and get busy while I do something with these.”

  With a groan Gryffin and Dougal collected rake and shovel and headed over to the barn.

  They had just finished their task when they heard the sound of horse’s hooves running into the yard counterpointed by the disapproving clucks of scattering chickens. As they walked out of the barn, Callun, the Village Eron, or Chieftain, had dismounted and was walking towards the house. He turned at the sound of Dougal calling out to him that they were at the barn.

  “Ah!” he answered wryly, “that’s always assuming that it was you I came all this way to see.” He grinned at his friend. “And where is that beautiful wife of yours, by the way?”

  Bronty emerged from the house, summoned by the sound of the horse. “She’s here.” She said and then motioning to his two still mounted companions continued, “Would you three care for a drink of ale, we’ve plenty?”

  “It’s tempting, very tempting.” He admitted. “But no, thank you. I’ve much too much to get done this day before I stop and get drunk.”

  “I believe that my wife was only offering you a tankard, not the entire barrel.” Laughed Dougal. “Isn’t that right, Bronty?”

  “Who knows what I was offering.” She said slyly. “He does pay me such nice compliments, after all. Unlike some I could mention.”

  “You’d best be careful, Dougal, or I’ll have her away from you yet!”

  “Would that I should be so lucky!” He said looking up to the sky. “And you, woman, get back in the house and finish the cooking.”

  “It’ll be done in a few moments.” She said happily as she disappeared through the door. “If Callun won’t stay to share food with us, be so good as to make sure that he doesn’t keep you talking for so long that ours spoils.”

  Callun sighed as she went. “When I was younger, I always thought that being Eron would be so much fun. All that respect and power. But now I find that I have neither. If the truth be known, I now find that from my elevated rank more people know me and are therefore in a position to be disrespectful.”

  Dougal shook his head sadly in mock commiseration. “What the goddess gives with one hand she takes away with the other.”

  “She does at that!” Laughed the Tribal Chieftain good humouredly. “Still, we people of the Six Tribes are the chosen of the goddess. It is a small price to pay for such a blessing as her favour.”

  “Supper’s ready.” Called a voice from indoors.

  Gryffin went over to the well to wash off the stains and smells of the day’s work before going in to eat leaving his brother alone in the company of the most powerful man in the village. He always felt tongue tied and ill-at-ease around Callun, who had all the easy-going confidence of a man who was sure of is position in the world, whereas he himself knew nothing of what the Goddess had planned for him. He was pretty much certain that it wasn’t to be a hunter. Other than that, he was at a loss as to what the future held for him. With a final, self-conscious wave to Callun, Gryffin went inside to see if he could be of any help to Bronty.

  “Are you sure that you won’t stay to eat with us?” Asked Dougal

  His friend thanked him for his offer but declined, saying “I have too much to do yet before night falls. I came here to ask you if you would come to the village tomorrow. I have had some news, and I need your help. If you come to the Tavern at midday, I’ll stand you a couple of flagons of ale. Bring Bronty if she’ll come. It’s unfair of you to keep the most beautiful woman in the village all to yourself, cooped up in the middle of nowhere.”

  Dougal laughed. “I’ll ask her if she wants to come along but her time is almost here, three more weeks the Druid said when he saw her last the other day. I don’t think she will want to travel all that way just to watch me get drunk.”

  “True enough, my friend, true enough.” Said Callun. “Have you given any thought as to what will happen if you are out in the woods when the baby starts to arrive?”

  “I have. I was going to ask in the village to see if any of the families will let their daughter stay with us until birth. At least Bronty will have someone to run for the Druid or the midwife if I am away.”

  “You leave that to me.” Callun thought of the families that had girls of that age. He rested a comforting hand on the forester’s shoulder. “Whether they are rude to me or not, there are still a few families in the village who have the good grace to obey the Eron’s wishes. If not, then I’ll take out my sword and chase one of the buggers all the way here!”

  “You have my thanks, Callun. It will be a huge weight off my mind knowing that Bronty’s not by herself while Gryff and I are away. I would leave Gryff, but it is not long until the Night of Fires. He has to take up his weapons this year, ready or not.”

  The village Eron nodded. “That was something else I wanted to talk to you about. There will be seven other boys taking up arms this year. At eighteen summers, Gryffin will be two years older than most, more than that on the others.”

  “I know.” Said Dougal, a note of helplessness entering his voice. “The most annoying part of all is that he does not lack natural skill with either bow or spear. It’s just that he is such a dreamer. If he could only learn to concentrate more, then he would have no problems.”

  A voice from inside the house cut through their conversation. “Dougal, has that fool of a friend of yours gone yet, or do I have to come out there and chase him away myself?”

  “I think it’s time for me to go, Dougal.” Callun said hastily, as he walked back towards his horse. He was under no illusions as to whether Bronty would carry out her threat or not. “Come see me tomorrow and we will finish our talk then.” He pulled on the reins of his mount. The large bay gelding tossed his head bad temperedly, eager to be off, as he was turned in the direction of the village. Then, digging in his spurs, he urged his mount into a gallop, closely followed by his two comrades.