Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [78]
At that moment he saw it. A figure, he was almost certain, slipped stealthily out of the little hut, moved past the fire, and went quickly across into the shadow of the trees. He stopped, peered into the darkness and blinked. Surely he must have been mistaken. And yet he could have sworn that he had seen a tall and familiar figure there – familiar not only by its shape, but because of that particular, long-toed, loping walk which he knew so well belonged only to Tark the riverman.
His heart was suddenly beating wildly. He bustled down the path and rushed breathlessly in through the doorway of the hut.
Katesh had just taken Tark in her arms when she heard her husband’s call, and in an instant the spell of the moment was broken.
“Go,” she whispered desperately, “Go!”
What had she done? With a rush of guilt she pulled herself together. How could she so nearly have betrayed her little husband?
As his moonlike face appeared in the doorway she rose to greet him with a smile as he looked about him in angry suspicion.
“Who was here?” he cried, staring at her.
“No one,” she lied, praying that he would believe her.
“I thought I saw someone.”
She shook her head.
But Nooma turned, and bustled away towards the woods.
Dluc the High Priest had no doubt that Krona had been driven insane by grief. The priest could hardly blame him. Nor, when he remembered the room full of blood had he any power to comfort him. He could only hope that Krona would recover himself. For at present, he was obviously mad.
Even so, on that fatal day, when Raka lay dead, Krona’s first words had taken him completely by surprise.
“The moon goddess watches over hunters, doesn’t she?”
Dluc stared at him. Every child knew that the sun gave seedtime and harvest and that the moon goddess watched over hunting, as she had always done. For the moment he did not know how to respond.
“You are a priest,” he cried. “Answer.”
“She does,” Dluc replied.
“And she also watches over the houses of the dead?”
“Of course.” The tombs of the ancestors on the high ground were also under her special protection.
He nodded slowly, then indicated the walls of the room.
“This,” he said bitterly, “is the house of the dead.”
The priest was silent. What could he say?
“You priests,” he went on, “you begin your prayers: ‘Sun, giver of life.’” Suddenly he pounded his fist into his hand. “But to Krona, the sun gives nothing but death,” he screamed.
Dluc tried to interrupt him, but he took no notice. His eyes were blazing with anger and he began to rave.
“Krona is given death: he accepts it! We shall not worship the sun at our henge any more. We’ll worship the moon and her alone. Sarum shall no longer be called the Fortunate. It shall be called: the Place of Death!”
The priest began to protest at this blasphemy; but Krona did not hear him.
“We shall sacrifice to the sun god no more,” he shouted. “The sun is dead in Sarum. Each month you shall sacrifice to the moon goddess, and to her only. And your new henge – that too shall be to honour her.”
After this he fell silent for a time. Dluc, thinking that perhaps his grief had now made him unconscious, rose to leave. But his voice rasped out, cutting through the shadows.
“Where is Omnic?”
“At the house of the priests.”
“He brought the girl from Ireland. He said she would give me sons.” He paused and Dluc wondered what direction his thoughts would take next. When he continued, his voice was almost a groan. “He lied: and he is a traitor.”
“You are mad,” Dluc cried.
Again, he ignored him.
“Omnic must die,” he said.
This was worse than madness: it was sacrilege.
“He is a priest,” Dluc blazed. “His body is sacred.” But he could see that Krona’s eyes were staring into space and that the chief no longer heard him. He left.
He could not believe that even Krona in his madness would dare to lay hands on one of the priests of Stonehenge; but he took no chances, and that very night he had the faithful priest taken along the river to the west and hidden in the woods