The implacable fury of Aur-Arian Aruchel (HênDdu).
Excerpt from Iron Blood & Sacrifice (The Sons of Beli Mawr)
“Dorak Eoal!” Came the booming voice of King Ederus from across the other side of the fire and Eoal craned his scrawny neck and walked around it, toward the voice. He came to stand in front of a large group of seated lords and priests and he bowed to Ederus, the Princes and the Druids, noticing the scowl on the King’s face and his concerns deepened.
“Master Eoal, I’m glad you have finally joined us.” Ederus added, but Eoal doubted the words as the King’s eyes were hard and merciless at that moment. Eoal looked around himself nervously, as something wasn’t quite right here. As Ederus stood and approached him, he noticed the ghost-warrior had vanished again as silently as he had appeared and this also gave him cause for concern, making his nerves jangle.
“Great King Ederus, I …”
“QUIET!” Ederus roared at him inches from his angular face, with his hot spittle hitting Eoal’s cheeks and he began to understand the depths of his Lord’s ire and Eoal shut his mouth in fear. His brown eyes were wide now and flicking from one face to another, trying to read the situation but all he saw were the hard looks of condemnation. The King then backed away a step, before pacing the ground around him, preparing to address the massed ranks that surrounded this royal campsite.
“Worshipful Druids, Princes, Lords, Gŵyrd and honoured spearmen of this great alliance, I would like to introduce you to one Dorak Eoal.” Ederus declared loudly, his face twisting with distaste. “Known too as Eoal the Merciless, or Eoal the Cruel!” Ederus continued to circle him as a low rumble came from the crowd, the man’s sadistic reputation obviously known to many. “He was my master spy-catcher and interrogator, whom I made-up and gave him all that he owned and made him all that he was.” Ederus declared, pointing to him on the ground as he circled him menacingly.
Confusion and fear twisted the ageing face of Eoal, especially at the repeated past tense and the scrawny man began to tremble but wasn’t sure yet why.
“We could all be at home now in the warm bosoms of our families, but Eoal here decided not to summon me when his prisoner capitulated and informed this interrogator, that he would divulge the very intelligences that could have brought us here a day sooner.” Ederus paused for effect and a rumble of anger came from the packed ring of onlookers, and more people drifted in to watch, as there was obviously something interesting afoot. Eoal calmed somewhat at Ederus’ words and turned to speak to him.
“Great K...” Eoal’s excuses were cut short by a blow to the back of his head, which stunned him and dropped him to his knees. Ederus flexed his fingers behind him, clenching his fist again and continuing his pacing before bending to the man on his knees.
“Utter one more uninvited word Eoal, and I shall have your tongue torn out of your mouth with hot pincers!” Ederus said coolly to the man now on his knees who had a pleading look of innocence on his ashen face but he remained silent, in total belief that Ederus’ threat would be carried-out instantly should he speak another word. The trembling in his legs got worse then, even if that was all Ederus knew and over-enthusiasm in his sworn duties was his only charge here it still felt as though his life was in mortal danger. Suddenly Eoal felt like a rabbit caught in a purse-net, as he looked around himself in confusion.
“Eoal here, enjoying his work overmuch continued to torture the man after he had agreed to tell-all!” Ederus accused him in a powerful voice, still pacing ominously around him as Eoal’s wet knees sank deeper into the cold mud. “In-fact he broke the man’s spine, almost killing him and depriving us of the hard-knowledge that has brought us to this great defensive battle today, late as it was!” Ederus’ angry words carried clearly to the circle of hard, uncompromising faces which was growing steadily. “It took a great deal of planning, gold and much risk in the capture of that prisoner and Eoal’s selfish cruelty could have caused untold consequences! It was only the speed and ferocity of our glorious Gadwyr that prevented the vermin from crossing over to the Nefis peninsula and if they had?” Ederus paused here for effect as the crowd continued to rumble dangerously. “We would have faced a tortuous march around Loch Linne in the teeth of a building storm to bring them to battle and in a secure Dun!” Ederus thundered. “Had Eoal done his duty I would not have had to send a hundred of my finest Gadwyr to hunt them down in that storm!” He growled, pointing to the black heavens above Pen Nefis in the distance. The grumbling rose in the crowd at this news and Eoal hung his head, hoping now for a thrashing perhaps followed by ignominious exile.
Olwydd returned suddenly and bowed briefly before approaching the King and talking quietly in his ear. Eoal looked up from his knees and terror gripped him now for the first time in a great liquid convulsion of his bowels as he spotted the calf-leather pouch he’d hidden under his saddle, which was now tucked under the ghost-warrior’s arm.
Ederus’ face paled and his eyes blazed with a sudden fury. The King grabbed the leather purse from Olwydd and upended it so its contents spilled to the ground and roughly a dozen thick, solid gold rings glittered and jingled as they fell to the turf. A loud gasp came from the now swollen audience at the sight of this wealth and Ederus bent to pick one of these heavy rings up, looking at it closely in the light of the fire.
“Iweriu ring-gold!” He roared looking murderously at the kneeling Eoal, who was now bent to the ground with his head clasped in his hands in abject terror. “We have found our traitor!” Ederus bellowed beside himself with rage and he drew Fwlch-iâ almost without thought. The crowd responded to the sight of this awesome blade and roared back their anger at this proof of Eoal’s treachery, many calling for him to be slaughtered where he knelt. Ederus controlled his emotions however and held up both his hands, turning to the crowd again, Fwlch-iâ flashing dangerously in the firelight and silence was soon returned. The King sheathed his great sword as the killing rage receded and he turned to the approaching Brif-Druid AurArian, holding up the thick buttery yellow ring for his inspection, plainly one of the gold rings which was commonly used by the Iweriu as currency.
The tall Druid stepped up to Ederus and took the proffered ring in his long fingers, staring at it with an unveiled vehemence. Furious bolts of forked-lightning flashed and seared the night sky at that moment, far to the distant west.
“I think I shall take possession of this doomed creature from you good Ederus, as we have a special treat for those who betray us.” The strange, tremulous voice spoke, and the Druid looked down bleakly at the fated traitor on the ground before making a brief signal. Two burly stewards stepped forward and seized Eoal, who began to wail loudly. This shameful, keening noise was soon stopped as a filthy rag was stuffed in the man’s mouth and he was dragged away.
Watching this, Ederus looked down and made a silent apology to Druich in the Underworld, as he had doubted his veracity, quite wrongly and had cursed his name. He now rescinded and withdrew these curses with a spiritual plea of regret, as the traitor Dorak the Cruel had been culpable, not mercenary Druich the Scot.
AurArian Aruchel looked around at the growing number of warriors surrounding this campfire, before drawing himself to his full height to address them. His high brow glistened in the firelight as did the gold mantle he wore, intricately engraved with the powerful magical runes of his impeachable authority.
“In a few moments, you will all witness how we Druids deal with traitors in Prydein.” The man spoke in his eerie, vibrating voice and you could have heard a pin drop, as every man’s focus was locked to the menacing figure of the country’s Prime Druid, who was clearly full of rage at the unforgivable act of treachery. It was a foul deed, one which had threatened the lives of every man here and many had lost old friends in today’s battle but now at least, they had someone to hold accountable for this travesty. However, every single man watching knew that Eoal was about to pay for his treason in the most terrible way and all became quiet and even nervous, as this was the legendary HênDdu before them in all his terrible anger. Nobody knew what was about to happen, as this dread man was capable of anything.
Einion and Drem came to remove the fabulous golden collar from HênDdu and he paced the ground impatiently then, until a slave stepped forward to the centre of the clearing with a long and narrow trenching spade and began to dig a deep post hole. The hole was soon dug and the aged, sagging and naked figure of Eoal was dragged out by two burly men, to a chorus of loud booing. A pale and wide-eyed Eoal had been bound to a rough timber ‘T’ cross, his wrists and ankles tightly fastened to the cross-pole and it appeared the life had literally drained out of him. The same two muscular stewards kicked the bottom of the post into the hole and pushed the cross upright where it thumped into the post hole, sagging slightly to one side. A murderous howl came from the onlookers then, with many calling for Eoal to be pulled apart by horses or burned alive but AurArian held out a hand, adorned with the pure gold and silver Acorn ring of his office and the silence was almost instant.
A trio of Bards processed from their pavilion at that moment, coming to stand solemnly by this condemned man with strings of juniper hung around their necks and they carefully took-up their positions. Another trio emerged from the religious tents in the shorter white gowns of the Uati, with the twisted crowns of mistletoe on their shaven heads. Two of these were young women who flanked a pale young man with enormous, blank eyes. This trio looked to be in some sort of trance but it too took its position carefully in front of the cross, one-member handing AurArian a long and sacred pair of sturdy Gefel-Blingo; the ceremonial iron tongs. The Druid held the black forged-iron up to the sky and began to intone a long litany of prayer to the black God Lug, calling him to draw near and witness this sacrificial offering of castigation in His name.
“Dread God of Night. Lord of the Underworld. First Man! I pray for your blessing.” The Druid droned, his voice vibrating even more for the prayer. “You who are the everlasting darkness, the great black God of death and rebirth who embrace and care for our dead. I beseech you to witness this sacrifice to you Arglwydd Lug Ddu.” He finished the entreaty and turned to face his victim with a terrifying grimace. “From darkness to light and death to life, from life to death and light to darkness - I condemn you!” He snarled at Eoal on his cross and the old man’s eyes were filled with terror above the filthy gag.
HênDdu turned away from him with a scowl and raised his arms once more.
“Witness our sacrifice oh great God Lug I beseech you and know that our love and duty to you great Lord, is as bright today as it has ever been!” He declared earnestly in his loud, vibrating voice of power. He did the same downwards, repeating the ancient words towards the Underworld and satisfied that his pleas had been heard, HênDdu turned to Eoal and snatched the filthy rag from his mouth. The Druid picked up the black and heavy iron tongs, before taking a grip on the tender skin over Eoal’s left collar bone and he began pulling hard, twisting and yanking.
The inch-wide meeting plates of these tongs had been filed horizontally with rough grooves giving them the purchase required, especially as the work became so slick with blood and so quickly. Eoal’s body jacked into a rigid rictus and he made a cat-like mewing sound. His back arched and his limbs strained against their bindings, as his elderly skin was pinched between the cold iron and stretched to a pleated peak. It finally tore open with a splash of red and Eoal screamed hysterically in unbearable agony, which was the cue to the Bard Trio who instantly burst into the extemporised Cysoni’r Artaith; the harrowing, spontaneous and wordless song of ‘Tortuous Harmony’.
The Druids sang notes in the three sacred voices and in close harmony or contrast with the blood-curdling screaming of Eoal. It was an incredibly difficult thing to get right and took many years of training and practice. Jointly-correct anticipation and collective harmony being the keys to success but when done correctly, it struck terror into all who heard the dread and haunting sound.
HênDdu ripped a strip of flesh from the man’s chest about an inch wide and a foot long and which tore the man’s left nipple in two. The bloody strip of flesh tapered and came away over his ribs with a tug and Eoal began to vibrate with the insupportable agony, and his screaming changed in tenor, as did the wordless harmonising of the Bards and as the blood flowed, a huge roar of approval burst from the crowd.
The Druid continued methodically to flay the man alive, savagely tearing long strips of wrinkled skin from his body with the sacrificial tongs, causing blood to run down the twitching and writhing body and legs, to drip to the flesh-littered and bloodied turf below. Within minutes the Druid’s white robe looked like a butcher’s apron and drips of Eoal’s thin blood flew from the tongs, as he tugged and worried at the leathery flesh of his victim. Throughout the harrowing, gore-drenched procedure the Druid’s eyes had blazed with a cold, pitiless fury. The abject, nerve-shredding screaming of Eoal and the dreadful, harmonised singing of the Bards continued eerily, the crowd becoming wide-eyed and awestruck as they watched the fury of the most powerful Druid in all Prydein meting out the most horrific punishment.
Drawing on their years of obsessive training in one of the most ancient of the Druidic powers, thought to have come from Mesopotamia long ago, the Uati, the trio of Ovates watched every twitch and heard every sound. Over the haunting meld of screaming and singing by the Bards, they took inspiration from the wet ripping sound of elderly skin and the straining, creaking noises of the rawhide restraints. These sounds they tuned into were overpowered occasionally by the cracked and agonised screaming of Eoal, which was itself mingled with the loud grinding and splintering of his teeth. The Uati’s spirit-tuned ears and vacant eyes missed nothing. Together, they interpreted these signs and sounds into spirit knowledge and channelled it to their Gods, so they would in turn grant them the ability to divine a future from the traitor’s death.
The dread, fell sound of this fluctuating singing and screaming drifted across the littered and blood drenched battlefield and its growing flock of flapping, raucous Buzzards. Onwards it floated, to wash over the enormous barrow of dead bodies in the forbidden valley, and it seemed finally that the pitiless Gods of Prydein were sated and content.
Eoal had soon confessed everything and as he did so, the mass of onlookers began the low and malevolent chant; ‘Addew! Addew! Addew!’ – the Addew, the vital ‘confession’ was gained, thus justifying all and the chanting got louder. The huge crowd of warriors stamped their feet in rhythm; ‘Addew! Addew! Addew!’ and to this primal, malevolent tempo Eoal was forced to dry-swallow each Iweriuan gold ring of betrayal, accompanied by a great cheer from the crowd. This torture continued for three more agonising hours, ironically long after Eoal had surrendered.
The raw, dripping body hung limply from its cross, now looking like a grotesque and bloody carcass suspended in a butchery. It hung heavily by the bluish-red bunches of its exposed muscles, stretched tight against the blood-soaked restraints. The remaining white and fringed flesh of Eoal’s hands, feet and neck looked incongruous, contrasting starkly with the red-ruined remains of his limbs and torso. Whilst the Druids regained their breath, the thing that was once a man was free of pain and was slumped senseless.
Eoal was mercilessly brought back to awareness by a bucket of cold, salted water and a pot of foul-smelling ointment held under his nose. At a nod from HênDdu, this was done each time he succumbed to the unbearable agony and fainted. This harsh treatment and the liberal use of the rank ammoniac pot restarted the cracked and broken screams, which were merely faded gasps of delirium now. The unflinching Druids snatched him back unwillingly each time from the numb cocoon of blackness and the very horizon of oblivion. Back to HênDdu they dragged him, back to the stark, blinding and unbearable agony of his last hours on this Earth.
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