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Royal Festivities
Pandemonium reigned. The participants probably didn’t think of it that way; they were just having a wildly boisterous good time, exuberant in celebrating something that had never happened before among their people. Clan chiefs knew the tale, but only those who had been to the Stone really knew that they were transplants from another world. There, the Celts had boasted kings, but here, this was their first.
They were certainly establishing a custom, Rita observed with amusement:: Artur still rode around on a shield. When the warriors had gotten tired of walking back from the Gathering Place and begun to run, they’d kept him on that shield, providing an opportunity for taunts and jests about dropping him. The youngest clan chiefs had been raised on shields as well, and challenges made, races engaged in. Tumbles happened among them, but Artur’s shield had progressed smoothly, even while warriors traded off on the run.
“He slept up there”, Lumina related, literally dropping into a seat by Rita. She’d been tireless in attending the serious abrasions, lacerations, and other injuries that had resulted from the march – no, the rush back to Cavern Hold. “I kept an eye on him.” She heard a chuckle, and glanced at Rita, puzzled.
“Sorry. I was just thinking what a thief who had the Healer talent could do”, Rita explained. “He could tell if the people he wanted to rob were really asleep.”
“Why not ‘she’?” Lumina challenged with a laugh, mock-indignant. “Girls can be thieves, too.” They shared a good laugh over an issue from a world gone from them. In fact it was not terribly relevant among the Celts, whose only attitude toward girls who wanted to be warriors, or hunters, or even smiths, was amused interest – and, when the girls achieved their goals, clan pride in their talented women. Rita recalled a certain female clan scout, now become Scout, and one tale became another....
“It was disgusting”, Crystal insisted, breaking their string of reminiscences. Rita and Lumina turned to see Crystal, Melanie, and Ocean arriving to join them.
Ocean laughed. “Miss Music doesn’t like how Artur relived himself on the trip back here”, she shared. “What did you call it, Crys?”
“She called it ‘stupid little boy humor’”, Melanie recounted with a giggle. “And I said warriors are just little boys grown up, when they’re having fun – and what else was he supposed to do? They wouldn’t let him down!”
“It was still–“ Crystal began.
“Natural”, Ocean filled in. “They were a beautiful, natural force flowing over the living land, and he contributed nutrients for the great cycle.”
“Contributed right onto a pair of warriors”, Rita remembered. “I heard. But at least they were clans he shares blood with.” She shook her head at Crystal. “He had to take a leak. So he flipped up his kilt and let fly. The warriors all thought it was hilarious, so don’t you go talking otherwise. We’re not Celts, and we don’t want to give offense. So if you hear any Celts talking about it, and they expect you to say something, just roll your eyes and shake your head – no, use that thoughtful look you get when you’re thinking about getting a new musical instrument going. They’ll think you’re part Wise Woman. Then just smile at them, and say something like, ‘He’ll be a good king’, and let them wonder.”
Ocean nodded happily in agreement. “Add, ‘He is joined with the earth’.”
“Or, ‘with Life’”, Lumina offered. “You won’t even have to lie.” She looked their chief musician over. “You need to get out more, girl – you’ve gotten sheltered. And besides, it isn’t like he took a dump off the edge of the shield – when he had to do that, he dropped it in a container.”
That set Rita, Ocean, and Melanie together into howls of laughter. The “container” of mention had been a warrior’s leather helmet, and not just any warrior’s either: it came off the head of the new clan chief of the MacBoyle, whose father Artur had just defeated in challenge. That had been a tense moment, when the owner’s identity was recognized, until Artur had extended a hand and hauled the other lad up on the shield with him. Rude taunts from below had been well met by responses from the two.
“Artur turned possible insult into a chance for friendship”, Rita commented when she caught her breath. “A very good start.”
Crystal sniffed. “Peeing on warriors and taking a dump in a chief’s helmet doesn’t seem very good to me. If he makes laws that way he’ll be a crappy king.”
Lumina spewed hard cider. Ocean giggled. Melanie groaned. Crystal seemed oblivious to the pun she’d made. Rita coughed into her hand, then spoke. “It doesn’t work that way”, she stated. “The laws exist – and there’s no disputing them, because every Druid and Elder and Wise Woman who goes to the Stone knows them. They may not be able to recite them, but when one applies, we remember it. Artur is more like chief of the chiefs – he’ll preside at the chiefs’ council, judge arguments between clans, hear appeals from the chiefs’ justice, settle disputed successions, and be the one outsiders have to go through or talk to about matters with the Celts. In a way his biggest job is to be an inspiration and a source of vision: he’ll make decisions about what the future should look like, and tug the whole people that direction.”
“And lead when there’s war”, Ocean said sadly.
“Someone has to”, Melanie pointed out, ever practical. “What kind of defense would they have if every one of the twenty-four chiefs had a different idea of what to do?”
Lumina nodded in approval and agreement. “It’s easier on the Healers when there’s one person in charge. We won’t have to divide ourselves into twenty-four little teams, just into a few, or even one. And fewer people get killed when there’s one big army instead of little ones – little ones can get picked off one by one, and just slaughtered.” Ocean looked thoughtful, then nodded her understanding and agreement.
“Nice to be popular”, Ryan commented to Rigel as yet another Celt brought a trencher to the two. They hadn’t had to do a single thing for themselves since the beginning of the feast.
Rigel shrugged. “This all had to be somewhere. The warriors would have toughed out the snow flurries, but not all the Celts here are warriors. So when Artur insisted” --
“And Anaph agreed”, Ryan put in.
Rigel nodded. “–that it had to be on Celt territory, what else could I do?”
Ryan snorted. “Sent them all to Servant Village. You could have at least asked before granting my hold to Artur for the festivities.”
Rigel laughed. “You took it well enough, and you did look rather grand and such.”
“What else could I do?” Ryan echoed. “At least you didn’t hand over the castle – we would have had drunken warriors falling out the ends of unfinished hallways.”
That sobered Rigel’s attitude. “I can’t believe they’re not all finished yet. Frak, I didn’t even know they weren’t until you mentioned it! I thought Devon got the whole thing done last year.”
Ryan laughed. “So did I. He was just very good at partitioning off what we didn’t need yet. But with winter, I had a lot opened – building things is a nice way to pass the time, especially with a cave roof overhead.”
Rigel glanced up at that roof, where bursts of light ran here and there at random. It was a spectacular effect. He lifted his mug to indicate it. “Wouldn’t that look better with more colors?” he asked. “Green and white – too much like outside.”
Ryan nodded. “I keep thinking if it had red, it would look like Christmas. But it’s bioluminescence, and those were the colors it comes in. Eraigh and his college of student Druids did it.” He squinted a bit as he looked up. “There’s actually a pale blue up there, but from down here it just looks like a brighter white.”
“Impressive.”
“Bud, you don’t know the impressive part! You know how much energy is flying around up there to make bioluminescence we can see with lamps burning? The cell activity is beyond belief!” He sobered and took a big bite of venison. “Believe me, I did some calculations, and I don’t believe it – it’s not something I would have thought possible. But there’s a down side – cells are dying like crazy, too. Eraigh’s team is going to spend a week painting nutrients to restore the system. Well, not really restore”, he corrected himself, “because it will be a step in a succession – this is a unique stunt they won’t be able to pull again without scraping everything off and starting over.”
“Unique event, unique stunt – works for me”, Rigel said. “They’ll never have a first king again.”
“One hopes they’ll want another”, Chen observed, having arrived at Austin’s right. He squeezed in at the table.
Ryan grunted. “Kings and chiefs and lords – ugh. I know, they’re not ready for elections – well, maybe the Celts are; they do it for some things – but I feel like I’m living in a history book... or a novel.”
Rigel grinned. “But you never complain about the authority you have.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Got me. No democracy, but no bureaucracy. At least–“
He didn’t get to finish his sentence: trumpets blew a fanfare, filling the cavern with the harmonic tones of brass as the luminescence on the ceiling flashed in a wild frenzy. The trumpets fell silent, the lights faded nearly out of sight. It was replaced by a brilliant beam of light from one of the castle balconies, focused on the middle entrance to the cavern from the Valley of Horses. A single figure stepped through and into the light.
“He’s magnificent!” Austin whispered. Rigel and Ryan had to agree. Then came the surprise Crystal had been saving: bagpipes skirled, their high note rising in a crescendo to be joined by the deeper drone. A second drone added to the volume; the result was a very spread-out chord. Rigel couldn’t identify if, but he loved it. Glancing sideways, he saw Ryan frowning, so he jabbed him with an elbow and raised an eyebrow.
“Those aren’t highland pipes”, Ryan whispered. “What–?”
“Irish – they have a funny name”, Chen cut in. “Weelan, or something. But she changed them. I think they’re a cross.”
“They’re awesome!” Rigel declared in a whisper. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever mentioned he loved bagpipes, but for this, he’d give Crystal any reward she wanted.
Artur strode forward as the pipes began a melody. Anaph followed – and harmony kicked in. As the pipers themselves emerged, the volume rose; as the chiefs followed, the harmony increased in complexity. If anyone was looking, they would have thought Rigel delirious and drugged, but all eyes were on the procession. “Damn, the acoustics here are good!” Ryan whispered, grinning as he picked up some of Rigel’s joyous exhilaration.
No announcement was necessary; a path opened through the crowd. Warriors sank to their knees out of some ancient reflex, whether to king or pipes or both – and the impressive aura Anaph radiated couldn’t be excluded. Someone began pounding in time with the pipes; thunder filled the cave as others joined in. They could have drowned out the music, but a shared restraint stopped it at a point of support, not conflict.
Rigel was gone to the world, but Austin heard the footsteps. He looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Lumina. Oh! Crystal, this is awesome!” The idiot’s grin he sprouted was nearly a match for Rigel’s. “If I was old enough, I’d ask you to have my baby.”
Crystal snorted. “You’re spoken for.” She looked toward Rigel.
“He’s why she’s here”, Melanie announced. “Does he like it?”
Austin laughed. “He might come down by spring. I bet I could blow him right now and he wouldn’t even notice!”
Melanie gave the squire a disgusted look. “You’re crude.”
Austin feigned sheepishness. “I’m better when I’m nude.”
“Stuff it”, Chen hissed. “It’s grown-up time.” He didn’t turn, so he didn’t see the hurt look on Austin’s face.
Ocean slipped forward and gave him a hug. “Chen’s homesick, Aus. This reminds him of something.” Austin nodded, though he didn’t understand; home was a place to run from, to him – at least if there was a father in it.
No one spoke again after Chen’s outburst. Rhythm and melody, focused on a stately procession, became all, floating over a sea of kneeling Celts. The wave of dropping bodies reached the group of Snatched, and the feeling caught them as well. Not a human stood except in the procession – and the junior Wizard running the primitive but effective spotlight.
Artur reach the platform that had grown at the edge of Rita’s Meadow. To Chen’s Scout senses, the new king was actually nervous – not nearly as much as Chen would have been, just a small scoop. Outwardly he was calm and confident. “He’s nervous”, the Scout whispered to Rita, who nodded.
“Was he at the duel?” she asked back, speaking softly because whispers carried as a sound even if not as words.
Chen shook his head. “Calm and determined, then.”
She laughed softly. “He has to speak – he’d rather use a sword.” That made sense to Chen.
The clan chieftains knelt beginning from the front. More informed now, Rita could tell they were arranged in an order that was a cross between rank and blood-kin to the king. But the big theme of their ordering was one that caused some murmurs; for her it caused a big grin – and a self-chastisement that she hadn’t noticed sooner. That was when she realized the pipes had softened to a low, droned chord, and the beating on tables and chairs, trenchers and mugs had settled to something as from thumbs or fingers and not fists and palms. She forgave herself the lapse n observation: that music had taken up a great deal of attention, consciously or not.
Anaph raised his staff, but silence didn’t come, though the volume subsided further; above, the faint bioluminescence faded to near-indetectability. The spotlight covered the two main figures of the drama – and then it covered only one.
“Druid’s tricks”, Melanie muttered. Rigel heard the tone and made a mental note to talk with Rita about the girl.
“So is he bending it or absorbing it?” came Ryan’s mutter as he scanned the space where Anaph certainly still stood. “Damn – I can see through him, but the light’s not going on! How the fuck does he do that?”
“Save it for your theory and shut it”, Lumina chided, putting in her voice that same tone of command a Healer used to effectively paralyze a patient. It didn’t work as well on Ryan, but he stood silent and watching.
“The people of the Clans have a head”, came Anaph’s voice, not from where he stood but from the cave ceiling. “Chief among chiefs, warrior among warriors, elder among elders. First among each, first among all – first among equals.” Now the sounds did die, save for a crystal tone from the castle, a tone that faded only a shave more slowly than Anaph’s voice.
“Hear him!” that voice bid, then fell silent, not even echoes.
“Fuck it all! How...?” Austin jabbed Ryan sharply with an elbow, then grinned at his superior.
“You are free persons”, Artur declared, softly but surely. It was a statement from Celtic culture that Rita now remembered, though she’d never heard it before here. It had been a battle cry against the Romans, under... Vergetorix? that wasn’t quite right; she’d figure it out later.
Rigel had thought there was pandemonium before, but that had been nothing: Now, the cave shook, and it wasn’t just a metaphor.
“It was a greeting”, Ocean said, speaking freely now that no one was paying them the least attention. “A Celt would meet another Celt, and say, ‘You are a free person’. It was farewell, too, and a way of identifying blood in distant countries. Franagh was telling me”, she said to explain the knowledge. “No one’s said it since the war, when they lost so much.” A tone between satisfied and triumphant crept into her voice. “Whisper that among Quistador slaves, and you’d get a rebellion.”
“Which would end in death and slaughter”, Lumina snapped.
“Not if the moment was right”, Ocean countered, looking over at Rigel. Lumina saw the gaze, frowned, and nodded slowly.
“If it comes to that”, she conceded.
Artur motioned to the pipers, and a very discordant blast cut through the cheers. He raised his hands, and silence fell, echoes refusing again to be born. Ryan’s groan was audible; Rigel patted him on the back. “Just remember it – save the math for later. This is to be enjoyed and remembered.”
“We’ve never had a king”, Artur noted, bringing nods of agreement. “Nobody ever thought of having a king. I never imagined I might be one.” He looked around, catching eyes where the lamplight made it possible. “So now we get to figure out together what to do with one.” The laughter that came was quiet and appreciative. “The only thing I know about this job is I’m going to do what can be done to see no more of our people get stolen by slavers.” Cheers replaced laughter, turning to rhythmic stomping of feet, and gazes turned toward where their new Captain of that fight knelt near the front, where pipers stood silent.
The young king shrugged visibly. “I’m not used to talking to lots of people. I’m better at chopping trees.” That brought hoots and laughter from those who knew Artur’s story. “Druid Anaph is better at talking – so he can take a turn now.” Anaph emerged into the light, as from nowhere, to good-natured laughter, with not a few murmurs of awe.
“He stepped out of whatever cocoon he made”, Ryan muttered, tensing for an elbow in the ribs. He jumped when Austin pinched his butt instead. “So it isn’t focused on him.” Austin was too fast for him; he got pinched on the other butt cheek.
“Artur-king pledges a life’s work, in keeping free the Free People”, Anaph commented, not as a Druid making a solemn pronouncement, but more as a friend speaking conversationally. “He will do well even if he does nothing else.” Murmurs of agreement swept the vast chamber. Rigel felt eyes turning to seek him out, and was glad he was kneeling with the rest.
Murphy, in the form of Artur, took a hand. “Friend Rigel, many eyes look to you. You have aided us greatly till now. Have you any words?”
He refused to stand. “This: every warrior here shall have a rifle to take home when he departs.”
Artur led the cheers. The thunder covered Ryan’s protest. “Rigel, you can’t be serious! We don’t have that many!”
“Yes, we do. You’re turning out new rifles. We give them every last old version – the Mark I or whatever – we have. There are enough.”
“You’ll strip our people of weapons!”
“We’ll have a century of the latest rifles. Make it our best marksmen, and they can handle anything that comes up. But c’mon, Rye, what will? Our east and south are covered, and our new vassals are north and northwest. That leaves southwest, which means coming past the Stone. What big threat is out there that the Druids staying there won’t handle – an army of gr’venstut?” he ended with a tease. “It’s not like the people have thrown their spears and bows away, either”, he pointed out.
Ryan cracked up at the image of an army of the beasts that had nearly killed more than one of them on their initial trek. “Okay, point to you. It will sure make them happy, I guess.” He gestured at the cheering, though still kneeling, throng.
“A lot of new friends out there”, Rita suggested softly.
“And next they’ll expect us to free the ones in Quistador lands”, Austin noted. “But one thing at a time, right?”
“Right on the knot, squire”, Rigel responded. “If–“ But he stopped speaking at the sight of Anaph raising his hands for silence.
“A generous gift”, the chief Druid declared. “And now for a gift from the Druids: Artur-king, on this day you may make one uncontested decree, an order which shall be enforced by Druid, chief, Wise Woman, Elder, and smith. Think, then: what is your will?”
The cavern had never been so quiet. Artur turned to stare at Anaph a very long moment indeed, then one by one searched the faces of those he could see. Even the pipers met his gaze openly, unflinching. Minutes went by, time no one begrudged him; this was a momentous decision.
“You are free persons”, the king whispered. “We are free persons – together. And so this is my command: the Free People are one. When next we hear the Druid’s staff, all feuds are ended, all disputes finished, all wrongs forgiven between clans. All clans begin anew as free brothers – those here, and any which did not come. And if there are any clanless, let them seek me: they shall have a name.” His eyes swept the crowd, his will almost palpable as it moved with that gaze. “We are Free Persons, at Peace in the Free People.”
When Anaph’s staff struck the floor, the tone was rich and deep. From the great crystal organ, resonance brought forth a clear pure note, as if in affirmation.
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