Medieval II - In Shadows of Kings Page 23

  ‘Unless I am mistaken, they are coracles,’ said Tarian quietly, referring to the traditional boats used across Wales. As they walked, the men took the opportunity to examine the Mandan more closely. All the natives were dressed in animal skin leggings with some having a decorated flap of worked Buffalo hide attached around their waist. Their upper bodies were unclad though covered with painted designs of many colours, as indeed were their faces. Their heads were shaved at the sides and the remaining hair on the top hung down their backs, decorated with a mixture of coloured beads, ornate leather ties and bird’s feathers. The women were dressed in calf length dresses made from similar skins and again they were decorated with multi-coloured designs of birds and animals.

  Interest was high in the strangers and crowds gathered as they walked deeper into the village until they finally stopped in a central clearing.

  ‘Look at that,’ said Sir Robert. In the centre a large pole soared skyward adorned with strings of blue beads and the skulls of all sorts of animals. Coloured feathers blew in the wind and carved images of bearded men were sunk deep into the surface. Tarian and Sir Robert walked over for a closer look and Tarian dropped to his knees to wipe the dust off a brass plate fixed to the base of pole.

  ‘Well,’ he said eventually, ‘if there was doubt before, there isn’t any more.’

  ‘What does it say?’ asked Sir Robert.

  ‘It says The Gwennan Corn,’ said Tarian. ‘This was the main mast of Madoc’s flagship.’

  ----

  Throughout the day the men of the fleet were shown to various huts around the village and given food by their hosts. Tarian and Sir Robert were taken to a hut different to all the rest, a wooden building constructed on stilts. They climbed a ladder and entered a smoky room unlit by any apertures in the bark latticed walls.

  Inside, their eyes became accustomed to the gloom and they could see it was one big room. In the centre a small fire smouldered on a flat stone while the walls were adorned with ornate native lances. Achak indicated the animal pelts stuffed with grass along the base of the walls and the two Knights dropped their packs before looking around the room.

  ‘Look,’ said Tarian and they stared at the far wall. Amongst an array of feathered headdresses, they could see half a dozen rusting helms They walked over and stood before them in awe. Tarian raised a hand and touched the most ornate helmet on display.

  ‘I wonder if any of these were worn by the Prince,’ he said.

  ‘Machitaw will know the answer,’ said Achak.

  ‘Who is Machitaw?’

  ‘Our medicine man. He sits with the elders of the Mandan.’

  ‘Is he your leader?’

  ‘We have many leaders.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘They sit in counsel at the fires of another village.’

  A Mandan woman climbed the ladder and brought them a maize porridge flavoured with berries.

  ‘Eat the food of our people,’ said Achak. ‘Tonight we will feast on meat for it is the season of the Buffalo, we will send for you when it is time.’ He disappeared down the ladder and left the two men alone.

  ‘I wonder how the Dragon fares,’ said Robert.

  ‘They have been tasked with staying midstream,’ said Tarian, ‘and to make what repairs they can. With luck we will be able to meet the Mandan chiefs and find out if any of their people are directly descended from Madoc. After that it’s a case of being patient and persuading his lineage to return with us to Wales.’

  ‘What if there are no descendants?’

  ‘There has to be, Robert. God has seen fit to deliver us here. I am sure we would have perished if he did not see merit in this quest.’

  ‘It is possible that any still of his line could be female.’

  ‘It is something I have considered. Obviously it would be better if it was a man but a woman can be no less a figure head. Are we to forget the tale of Gwenllian, daughter of Prince Gryfudd, who in his absence led his army at the battle of Deheubarth?’

  ‘That was a hundred and forty years ago.’

  ‘Yet still fresh in the memory of our people. She wielded a sword as well as any man and though she died that day, her memory served as a beacon for many years.’

  ‘Well,’ said Robert, ‘in a few more days we will know either way and if it is God’s will then we could be heading back within weeks.’

  ‘Indeed, and if a figurehead is found, we will be returning to a new future for our country.’

  ‘I suggest we get some rest,’ said Robert, ‘for these are indeed a strange people and I feel the days before us will be filled with new discoveries.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Tarian and retrieving his blanket from his pack, lay down on the stuffed deerskins to get some sleep.

  ----

  When they awoke the air was reverberating with the sound of drums. They rose from their mats and climbed down the ladder before walking toward the centre of the village. Native women ran toward them and plied them with clay beakers full of a fermented fruit drink.

  ‘It tastes similar to ale,’ said Robert.

  ‘Another legacy of Madoc, methinks,’ said Tarian. They joined the crowd in the centre of the village and were pleased to see their men intermingling with their hosts. Three complete carcasses of giant Buffalo were being roasted over the fires and a large circle of painted warriors shuffled around the flames chanting songs in their native language.

  Achak saw Tarian approach and walked over to address him.

  ‘You are welcome here,’ he said, ‘and will sit with the elders.’ He pointed over to the far side of the fire where ten aged men sat cross legged on reed mats.

  ‘Are these your leaders?’ asked Tarian.

  ‘They are council only,’ said Achak, ‘our chief is known as Pachua.’

  ‘What does it mean?’ asked Robert.

  ‘It means snake of the water,’ said Achak. ‘Pachua will return tomorrow and will be glad to eat with the spirit people.’

  ‘I think that’s the man we need to speak to,’ said Tarian.

  Achak led them across the clearing to sit alongside the old men. Their skins were a mass of wrinkles from a lifetime in the sun and Tarian could see that at least two of them were blind. None of the elders made any effort to speak yet all had bowls of burning leaves and bent forward regularly to breathe in the smoke.

  ‘What is that?’ asked Robert.

  ‘It is the dream smoke,’ said Achak, ‘our elders see the visions of the spirits and tell us which way to go.’

  The two Knights watched as the festivities unfolded. The drums were hypnotic and dancers formed fantastic shapes with their bodies as they acted out the history of the Mandan. An hour or so in, all the men of the fleet sat up with renewed interest as a group of natives ran into the circle wearing Welsh helms and the remains of rusty chainmail. Awkward parodies of sword fights followed and though it bore little similarity to the real thing, it was obvious that the Mandan saw the display as an important part of their heritage. As the night wore on, native girls carved slices of hot meat from the Buffalo carcasses and handed them around on boards of wood. The native beer had an effect and Tarian was intoxicated, not only from the drink but from the unbelievable welcome they had experienced.

  Finally the drums’ beat became louder and the crowd opened for a line of women to form their own circle around the fires. As the men of Wales looked on, the women’s dance got more and more suggestive until finally each woman walked forward and grabbed the hand of a soldier, leading them away into the darkness. Two beautiful young women approached Tarian and Robert, pulling them to their feet.

  ‘What’s all this about, Achak?’ asked Tarian.

  ‘They are a gift from the Mandan to you,’ said Achak. ‘Your beds will be warm as long as you are here.’

  ‘I’m not sure this is honourable,’ said Sir Robert, ‘why would you give us your women? Surely they have husbands?’

  ‘They are the widows of those who have burned in th
e fires of the Apalach. This is not a burden to them. They would be insulted to be rejected.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the Knight.’ It seems to be behaviour unbecoming of a noble.’

  ‘Robert,’ slurred Tarian, ‘feel free to be a slave to your morals but I for one will not insult our hosts.’ He turned to the young woman. ‘Lead the way, young lady,’ he said, ‘and we will cement the friendship between our nations.’

  Robert watched him go before turning to stare at the beautiful native still holding his hand.

  ‘She will be offended?’ he asked.

  ‘She has no man,’ said Achak.

  Robert sighed but gave in to temptation.

  ‘Then I will be honoured to share the bed of such a beautiful woman.’ The Mandan woman smiled and led him away toward her hut. Across the camp, many men were experiencing similar hospitality and as the last went to the huts of the widows, a native approached Achak from the shadows.

  ‘They are truly a strange people,’ he said.

  ‘They are, Machitaw,’ said Achak, ‘but they have honour and are brave warriors.’

  ‘Then set your heart upon it, Achak. The wind songs cannot be wrong and the spring sun will see the Apalach villages but ash upon the plains.’

  ‘It will be so,’ said Achak and walked away into the night.

  ----

  The sun was already high in the sky when Achak came for them the following day.

  ‘Pachua has returned,’ he said, ‘and grants you audience.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Tarian and rose from the deerskin bed.

  ‘I will join you,’ said Sir Robert.

  ‘No,’ said Achak, ‘Pachua will meet with your leader only.’

  ‘Sir Robert is my second in command and I value his counsel.’

  ‘Pachua will speak to you only.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Sir Robert, ‘I will wait here and you can share the conversation when you return.’

  Tarian nodded and followed Achak down the ladder. The Mandan took him across the camp until they reached a hut situated apart from the main village. As they drew near, Tarian could see many warriors guarding the area.

  ‘Is there need for this?’ asked Tarian.

  ‘The Apalach value Pachua’s scalp above all others and their young men seek it as a trophy of war. Those who come, die but still they come.’ He stopped before the doorway of the hut and spoke to one of the two warriors standing guard. Tarian couldn’t understand the conversation as it was carried out in Mandan but it was obvious they would not be allowed in.

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Tarian.

  ‘He said Pachua will see you when he is ready.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘Now we wait,’ said Achak and dropped to the ground to sit cross legged before the entrance. Tarian followed suit and sat beside him. For over an hour they waited and Tarian was getting impatient but Achak convinced him to stay.

  ‘It would be a great insult to leave,’ he said.

  Another hour passed and finally there were signs of movement. First a young woman came out and tied the Buffalo hide flap out of the way before placing four deerskins on the ground in front of Tarian. Another two young women came out and took their place on the outer two skins. One had a wooden plate of berries and Buffalo strips while the other had a clay flask of water. Within minutes, two men left the hut and walked toward them. The first was an old man clad in heavy buckskin leggings and tunic. On his head he had a feathered headdress that hung down his back to his calves. In his hand he carried a lance draped in decorations of a different kind.

  ‘Pachua is a great warrior,’ said Achak, ‘and his knife is dulled by Apalach scalps.’

  The second man was much younger and wore only a loincloth. His headdress was no less impressive, being made from the entire hide of a grey timber Wolf including the upper half of the animal’s skull. His body was covered in the white tell-tale scars of hundreds of knife cuts.

  ‘He is Machitaw,’ said Achak.

  ‘The medicine man?’ said Tarian.

  ‘His magic is strong,’ said Achak. ‘Every cut on his body comes from his own knife when he dances with the spirits.’

  Tarian looked at Machitaw and though he knew little of the ways of these people, he could see the man had the look of a fighter. His body was strong and his sun-burned skin was tight over a muscular frame. Both men sat cross legged on the remaining two deerskins and stared at the man from across the sea.

  ‘Pachua…’ started Tarian but Achak grabbed his arm.

  ‘Wait,’ he said.

  One of the women offered the wooden platter to Tarian.

  ‘Take one,’ said Achak quietly, ‘he is welcoming you as a friend.’

  Tarian took a piece of meat and passed the platter on. Achak and Machitaw each took a piece but again Achak told him to wait. Pachua didn’t take any meat but waited as one of the women chewed a piece on his behalf. Finally she spat it out onto the plate and handed it back to the chief. Without pausing, Pachua picked up the chewed meat and placed it into his mouth. The platter was passed around several times, following the same routine until it was empty. Finally each man drank deeply from the beaker before the girls took the remains of the ritualistic meal away. Eventually Machitaw spoke in his native language and Achak translated as he talked.

  ‘You are known as Tar-ian,’ said Machitaw, ‘and lead the strangers from across the big water.’

  ‘I am,’ said Tarian, ‘we come from a country called Wales across the eastern sea.’

  ‘We know of this place,’ said Machitaw. ‘Many have come before you and have built lodges amongst the Mandan.’

  ‘I know,’ said Tarian, ‘and it is this that brings us here.’

  ‘You seek your people?’

  ‘In a way, yes.’

  ‘Then look around you Tar-ian, for they are all around you. Many here bleed the blood of your country. Their father’s grandfathers came in giant canoes many moons ago but their seed mixed with ours and their offspring are as Mandan as I.’

  ‘And we are proud that our two peoples mix,’ said Tarian. ‘It is a strong allegiance.’

  ‘It is said that you wish to take them back across the sea,’ said Machitaw. ‘Is there truth in this?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Tarian, ‘we seek only one bloodline for their ancestor was a great leader in our country.’

  ‘You speak of Madoc,’ said Pachua in Welsh.

  Tarian turned to face the chief. Up until now he hadn’t spoken and Tarian was surprised to hear a strong voice coming from such a frail man.

  ‘I do, great chief,’ he said, ‘Madoc was a great man and we seek his line to once more rule in our land as you do in yours.’

  ‘There is no chief as great as Pachua,’ said Machitaw.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Tarian, ‘I did not mean to offend. I meant only that to our people, Madoc’s line would demand great respect.’

  ‘And why should we give you this person?’ asked Pachua.

  ‘We ask that you identify his line,’ said Tarian. ‘If there is such a man, and Pachua agrees to send him with us, the chief’s name will be spoken of in another land and his greatness celebrated.’

  The chief’s head nodded almost imperceptibly and Tarian knew he had struck the right tone.

  ‘And what do you offer in return?’ asked Machitaw.

  ‘Much of our equipment sank with the ships,’ said Tarian, ‘but we will leave what we can. We have steel weapons and many bows. All are far superior to the weapons of the Apalach.’

  ‘Achak tells of animals that bore you into battle with the Apalach,’ said Machitaw.

  ‘The horses were either killed or captured by the Apalach,’ said Tarian.

  ‘Do you have more?’

  ‘No, all are gone.’

  ‘We have eyes in the Apalach villages,’ said Machitaw, ‘and they say that some beasts still live.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘As many as the finge
rs on two hands. We will make war on the Apalach and capture them. You will teach our people how to use them in war and in the hunt.’

  Tarian nodded slowly but his mind was racing.

  ‘We could,’ he said, ‘but we have little time. As soon as the Dragon is fixed we have to set sail.’

  ‘What is this Dragon?’

  ‘Our remaining ship. It needs repairs and once done we have to leave. Our country is in turmoil and needs a leader.’

  For a few moments both natives spoke in their native language before turning their heads to face Tarian once more.

  ‘We will help in this task,’ said Machitaw, ‘but there is a price to pay.’

  ‘Name it,’ said Tarian.

  ‘The Apalach are fearsome warriors. Our children go hungry when they raid our fields and our braves grow impatient to wield the war bow.’

  ‘What stops you?’

  ‘The wind songs told us that there will come a time when the spirit people come again. Now you are here the time is right and our people gather their weapons.’

  ‘Do you think you can defeat them?’

  ‘With your help all Mandan enemies will sleep lightly in the huts.’

  ‘What do you mean, our help?’

  ‘Our people saw beasts of wood roaring fire into the skies.’

  ‘You speak of the Mangonels,’ said Tarian.

  ‘Never have we seen such a thing,’ said Machitaw, ‘and Apalach warriors will burn in the beast’s breath.’

  ‘We have only two left on the Dragon,’ said Tarian.

  ‘Then you will make more.’

  ‘We could,’ said Tarian, ‘but it will take time.’

  Both Mandan stared at him but did not respond. Finally Tarian broke the silence.