Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [79]
“You have hidden Omnic,” he shouted.
Dluc said nothing. He saw that Krona was little changed from the previous day except that now he looked at him with suspicion and fear, and it made him sad.
“So you desert me too?” he muttered.
“No,” Dluc replied. “But I will not desert the gods.”
He shook his head.
“They have deserted me. Bring me Omnic.”
“No.”
He began to curse, but Dluc left him and the next day, he sent the worthy young priest to a temple far away in the mountains of Wales where he would be safe.
There were times during the next five years, when Dluc wondered if Krona would try to kill him too.
For now at Sarum a reign of terror began. The darkness of Krona’s spirit descended on the entire territory like a terrible blight. Word of events there had soon travelled all over the island and beyond, and before long, even the visiting merchants would not venture up the river from the harbour.
“Sarum is a place for the dead,” they said.
And so it seemed.
A month after the tragedy of Raka, old Ina died, and from then on there was no one who could alter Krona’s moods. He was silent and morose; he withdrew his spirit and soon retired completely into his house. For months at a time he would be invisible to all but his closest servants; and yet in his seclusion he was all the more terrible.
Not only did his anger, and his passion for the moon goddess grow obsessive, but he became suspicious. The people of Sarum were terrified.
For his servants were everywhere. The workers in the fields, the traders at the port, the farmers who owed him tribute – and even the priests in the temple – all were watched. His spies were endlessly inquisitive and reported to him each day.
Those were the years when it became common to hear a farmer say to his wife:
“Be careful what you say: Krona is listening.”
During this time, Krona forbade any public celebration of the festivals of the sun god: the great feasts at the solstices and equinoxes ceased. Instead, rites were performed each month when the moon was full, followed by dances and feasts. Whenever Dluc protested at this reversal of the natural order Krona would shout at him furiously.
“If you do not honour the moon goddess,” he would cry, “then I will stop the building of the henge.”
Yet despite these terrors, Dluc remained calm.
“Be patient,” he told his priests. “The building of the henge must continue. These terrible times will pass and the will of the gods will be made clear.”
He also gave orders that the ceremonies to honour the sun god should continue in secret; and often he prayed to him:
“Give me strength, Sun, in this time of darkness; guide my hand.”
But it was the sacrifices which were sickening.
In his quest for an heir, Krona no longer asked for help from the priests, but he developed his own system, which he claimed was dictated by the moon goddess.
Once every three months, his servants would stalk from farm to farm, looking for young girls. When they found one to their liking they would seize her and take her to Krona. At first the farmers were hopeful that this was an honour which might bring riches to their family. They soon learned better. The girls were forced to be at Krona’s side day and night, ministering to his every need. Dluc would see them when he had business at the chiefs house: wide-eyed, frightened, cooped up like animals with the ageing tyrant; and if ever he was not with them himself, they were watched by his servants. He would keep them like this for three months. At the end of that time, the girl was watched with particular care, and if she still menstruated, then Krona would give her to the temple and order the priests to sacrifice her to the moon goddess. Three months was all the time he gave them to get pregnant, never more.
The first time it happened, Dluc refused to perform such