The Moon Worshippers (31 page)

As a weak third of a winter’s moon appeared from behind a cloud, its light showed a number of pairs of eyes, milling around the platform silently. All night they watched the eyes. At last dawn came and he could see that at least ten wolves had gathered around them. Moving in and out of the trees it was hard to calculate just how many, but Inaki was sure that there was a least ten, if not more. During the night he had put one end of the rope around Aize’s neck and had her secured to the tree. He could now move and getting to his knees he pulled the pack towards him and untied the bow from it. He strung the bow with numb fingers and with some difficulty. He took an arrow from the quiver.
Now don’t miss
, he thought to himself. He waited with the arrow notched in the bow string. The wolves had moved away from the platform, but still appeared, now and then, between the trees. Inaki picked a spot between two trees where a wolf seemed to appear at regular intervals. He took aim and waited. After a few moments he saw the head appear and let loose the arrow. It hit the wolf in the side, making it leap in the air and howl with pain. It ran off leaving a trail of crimson spots in the snow, closely followed by the pack.

Inaki knew that as soon as it weakened, the pack would kill it and devour it. He had to move fast and get as far away as possible before they had eaten it. He untied Aize and threw her down into the soft snow. Pack, bow, quiver quickly followed. Axe in hand he jumped down, gathered his things and made off towards the monastery. He could hear the wolves fighting over the body of their dead pack member as they devoured it. He only hoped that it would keep them busy until he reached the tree-line and could build a fire. He also knew that wolves marked their borders and would not cross them. He only prayed and hoped that he would cross this pack’s border when he reached the trees, but he had no way of telling if it was their border. He moved as quickly as he could through the snow and at about midday reached the trees. He had looked back several times, but there had been no sign of the wolves. Some time later he found the shelter from where he had observed the monastery. He quickly gathered wood and set about making the fire that would mean life or death if the wolves found him.

The fire took longer to build and light than he had hoped. His hands were cold and the wood was damp. In the end he managed to light one of his precious candles and place it in the middle of some tinder. Gradually the fire took hold and finally he had a roaring fire going.
Time to eat
, he thought and out of the bag he took some dry meat and bread which he shared with Aize.

“Tomorrow we will set some snares and hopefully catch a hare or rabbit.” He often spoke to the dog, as if she was human. It came naturally to him and Aize seemed to understand the tone if not the words, often putting her head to one side when in agreement. As darkness fell he built up the fire and left the shelter. He gave Aize the order to “stay” and then moved to the edge of the forest where he could see the monastery. It was a dangerous thing to do, but he wanted to know when the monks took to their beds. He could see lights flickering. The monastery was a square building of four walls with square towers on each corner. The top of the walls ended in a roof which was covered with terracotta tiles. The walls had no openings, until almost to the top of the walls. Then, near the top was a set of square windows. In the centre of these four walls, but set against the rear wall, he could make out the roof of another building. It looked like a large rectangular building. From his view point, it looked quite large. He could see lights behind the openings. It was too cold to remain were he was, so he returned to his fire and waited. Some time later he took another look and this time there were fewer lights. He went back to his fire, built it up and was soon asleep.

At dawn he woke. The fire was almost dead so he set about reviving it. He ate some bread and cheese and set off to hunt with Aize. He had two spare bow strings and with these he would make two snares. Having found a hare run, he set about making his snares. First he cut three straight branches from a nearby ash tree. These he pruned with his iron knife and cut them in two with his axe. He then went back to the run and looked for a sapling near the hare’s run. When he found one, he bent it over and saw how near the tip came over the run. Next he marked the spot with one of his ash sticks and sharpened one end, cutting a notch into the other end.

He repeated this with three other sticks so that he had four prepared thus. He bent the sapling over again to make quite sure he had the spot right. Then he drove two of the sticks down into the frozen ground with the back of his axe spaced either side of the run. Next he cut to length one of his sticks so that it fitted between the two grounded sticks in the notches he had made in them. Taking the bow string he made a loop at one end and hung it just above the ground. When he had it just right he made a knot around the stick suspended between the two grounded sticks and knotted the loose end around the top of the sapling which he bent down. Any creature running into the loop would pull the horizontal stick loose and find itself suspended in the air with its neck broken by the whiplash of the sapling. It was a well tried and effective method of snaring. Further down the hare run he set another snare. All he had to do now was check his snares now and then. As he made his way to the shelter, he managed to shoot a pigeon out of a tree with his bow.

Returning to the shelter and the fire he quickly plucked and gutted the bird and roasted it over the fire. He took the breasts for himself and gave the rest of the bird to Aize, together with a piece of bread. It was not really enough for a dog of her size, but he knew that Aize could go without food for three or four days with no ill effects and if he provided little but often, then the dog and he would survive, although hungry. After he had eaten he went over his plan in his mind. He would need a tree to get up to the openings in the wall. Mentally he calculated its length, got up and started to scan the forest for one that was of the right length, not too heavy and with enough branches so that it would act like a ladder that he could climb up. It soon became clear to him that nothing but a medium size pine would do. He set off to look for a suitable tree. The search for one took him close to his snare lines. He decided to check his snares and to his surprise and delight he saw that his first snare had been sprung. His heart quickened as he searched ahead of him trying to make out what, if anything, had been caught. He struggled through the snow as quickly as he could and finally, there in the air, hung a mountain hare in its white winter coat, with the snare’s string around its neck. He took the hare down and was filled with joy. Fresh meat! Enough for two and as he made his way back with his prize, there before him was the perfect tree. Oh, the Gods were smiling and he was sure now that his plan was blessed by them.

As the weak winter sun began to sink, he reached his shelter and stoked up the fire. Putting on fresh fire wood he turned his attention to the hare. It would be a simple meal. He took his knife and expertly gutted the animal. Next he removed the skin and head. He sharpened a stick and ran it through the carcass. Setting the hare above the fire between two sticks, he reached into his pack and found the leather bag of coarse flour. He filled his iron pot with snow and set it near to the fire to melt. When the snow had melted, he mixed in the flour with a pinch of salt and flattened the ball of dough onto a flat stone which he placed at the edge of the fire. Aize had watched the whole thing by his side and had not taken her eyes off the hare for a moment. As the aroma of the cooking hare and bread rose, a long string of saliva appeared at the corner of her mouth. After they had eaten, Inaki put more wood onto the fire. He arranged two large logs across the flames and calculated that they would still be burning if not smouldering by dawn. Next he unpacked his things. Out came the candles and rope. As he did this, he spoke to Aize.

“I’m going to leave you here for a while. Stay and guard my things until I get back. Now stay and wait.”

The dog looked at him and he knew from past experience that she would do as she was told. He placed the rope around his shoulders and stuck the candles under his tunic, wrapped his cloak around him and left the shelter. Dusk was beginning to fall and soon it would be dark. Dragging the pine he had cut, he made his way to the edge of the wood. There he waited until darkness fell. Across the clearing stood the monastery. The light from oil lamps could be seen flickering in some of the windows.
These monks must be rich to afford to burn so much oil
, Inaki thought to himself. As he waited long into the night, he thought of his dead friend. He was one of the wisest men he had ever known.

“Put an idea into a man’s head and you will change him forever.” He remembered the words so clearly. They had been some of the final words that he had spoken. Well, he had given his life for them. Now he would help those words a little more. He remembered something else Zumalacarrequi had said. “Always have a second plan.” Inaki panicked. What was his second plan?

He decided that unless another idea came to him an incantation would do. He began to chant.

Oh, Great Moon Goddess and Mother of my people.

Hear my voice and avenge my people.

Let those that would harm us wither and perish.

Protect those who honour, worship and cherish you.

He repeated the words over and over. Finally, he judged the time had come. He had watched the monastery for several days and he knew that the monks rested from around midnight until just before dawn. He began to move down towards the monastery, dragging the tree trunk behind him. The moon was full and lit his way to the bottom of the nearest monastery wall. He reached it sweating from the exertion of dragging the tree trunk. He dropped it and looked up. The wall was higher than he had thought and his tree trunk would not reach the openings near the top. His heart sank. He examined the wall. It was of roughly cut stone and the cement that had been used by the Romans was beginning to crumble away, leaving spaces between the stones. He could get his fingers in between some of these spaces. Now, if the wall was the same higher up, he stood a chance of reaching the openings. He gathered up his courage. There was only one way of finding out. He stood back and examined the wall as far as he could see. He placed the tree trunk against the wall directly under an opening, took off his cloak and folded it, leaving it at the foot of the wall. He put the iron axe and knife at the back of his belt and the rope over his shoulders. Grabbing the tree trunk firmly in his hands, he reached up with his foot to the first branch stalk. These were spaced a little unevenly along the trunk, but at least they provided supports along the trunk. As he reached the top of the trunk he looked up. As he feared he was about a grown man’s length below the opening. He looked at the wall on both sides.

He had more spaces between stones to his right than to his left and decided to attempt the final ascent on this side. He reached behind him and took the axe. Close to him was a large space between two stones. He forced the axe head into the space. He tested that the axe was firmly in place with his foot. He took his knife and looked for a gap above the axe. Choosing a gap he reached up, placing one foot on the axe and rammed the knife in. To his horror he felt the tree trunk sliding and moving away from him. Filled with terror, he stepped off the tree trunk and placed his full weight onto the axe, holding onto the wedged knife with one hand. He reached out with his free hand and found another gap and there he stayed for several moments, breathing heavily and wondering if he was about to plunge to his death. It was another of those moments in his life when he cursed himself. What on earth had possessed him to undertake this climb?

He quickly realised that he could not remain holding on. His strength would ebb away and then death was certain. He had to climb. The axe was holding and this would allow him to look for the best way up. He shifted his weight on the axe and looked for the best hand and foot holds. Fear gradually lessened, as he took in the wall above him.

He would have to use the knife to make some of the gaps wider for his feet but it looked possible. He found a gap into which he could wedge his hand and took out the knife from the gap it was in. Slowly and painfully, he began to move upwards. Finally, he could reach up and grab the ledge of the opening. He pulled himself up, his arms quivering with the exertion of the climb. His body was covered in sweat.

Sitting on the ledge, he looked down and shook. A cold trickle of sweat ran down his back. He looked away. The ledge he was sitting on was quite wide and the opening had a wooden cover. He gently pushed it. If it was fastened then his life was at an end. The monks would take him for an intruder or an assassin and would kill him. The cover did not move. He had nothing to lose and decided to push again but much harder. He felt it move inwards. He slipped in through the gap and sat panting on the wooden floor inside. Gradually his eyes became accustomed to the dark. He was in a long corridor. At each end were arches leading into the two corner towers. There were doors in the opposite wall. Two oil lamps were set in the wall at either end of the corridor. He looked up and he could make out the roof and the beams that supported it. He took his rope and threw it over the nearest beam. He tied it and opened the wooden cover letting the rope dangle down on the outside of the wall. He looked down. At least the rope reached the ground. His escape was set.

Suddenly his whole body tensed. Behind the nearest door someone had coughed. Again came the cough and then he tensed with fear as he heard the muffled sounds of someone moving. A door latch began to be lifted. Soon the door would open. Without thinking he moved towards the door and flattened himself against the wall behind it. His knife was in his hand, held low and pointing slightly upwards. His heart was pounding. He must have been heard. The door opened half way, but no one came through. Fear gripped his whole body. Moments passed that seemed like an age and then a hooded figure filled the doorway. Without thinking and in a panic he brought the knife around in a half circle and upwards into the monk. The iron bladed long knife entered the frail body of the monk below the rib cage, penetrating upwards and into the lungs. The shock, and the force of the stabbing, caused massive internal injuries. It forced the monk to stagger backwards into his cell. Inaki withdrew the knife, followed and reversing his grip, plunged the knife into the side of the monk’s neck. The monk collapsed dead to the floor. To Inaki’s astonishment, he had died without making a sound.