Chapter 22 - Fire and Salt
Leva soils, south of the Serpentine Estuary. SE Britain
Ur’salla lifts the heavy bundle of firewood onto her aching back. Snow falls from the load before she tramps the edge of a snowdrift, reaching the other concubine in this work party. It’s so bitterly cold doing this labour in such weather. Notwithstanding that Ur’salla’s bark boots are packed with heather, her toes feel frozen.
Snow blows from the snowdrift, coating Ur’salla’s face. It's the voice of the other concubine girl, who breaks the silence,
‘Ur’salla, here, take this stone’. She casts her eyes over the small lump of chalk held out in her companion’s hand. The girl uses her other hand to point to Ur’salla’s forehead,
‘Make a white paste from it, and smear it on your mark of the full moon. It might keep the masters out from between your legs. Though they are wary of your unbroken strength, they’ll labour you to be more agreeable as their bride’.
Ur’salla studies this obviously pregnant concubine. She knows her savage name was Aniko of-the-Willow, and she was of the Lynx. Aniko explains her thought,
‘The great Leva spirit called Ilua is both of Bull and of Moon. They’ll not yet rush to breed with you if they fear the magic of their ancestor’.
With numbed fingers, Ur’salla accepts the chalkstone. She feels pity for her benefactor. Poor Aniko, this wretch has been forced to live among the Leva barbarians for some time. Her husbands have set their seed into her womb, and persist to cruelly task her as Ur’salla’s mentor during this work on such a bitter day. Far too young for Aniko’s hair to fade to grey, and yet it does. Her young teeth are chipped by the gritty bread she is fed upon. Soon the young girl’s breasts will be stripped by barbarian babies. The degenerates wean their infants early onto a porridge of rye. This act returns fertility to the mother to permit more breeding with. There are always more children to be born to this culture.
Aniko will not live to any great age.
Heavy snow clouds persist. The two concubines commence their long trek, bearing a cargo of firewood. They shuffle behind an ox tasked by a master to tow larger timbers to their destination. This ploughs a convenient pathway through the snow for them to follow. Ur’salla cannot help but marvel at how a bovine accepts the commands of human masters. She feels nervous to be so close to such a powerful beast.
The ox, its master and two concubines stumble past Leva barbarians who vandalise the wilds and gather more firewood. Escape isn’t far from Ur’salla’s thoughts,
l escape this hell of servitude. I'll not be a breeding beast. I am a huntress of the Goshawk, and not their serf. Already she’s learned the folly of any clumsy attempt to escape. She knows from others failure will be met by beatings or even by a stone axe head splitting open her head.
Today they need to carry this firewood to higher ground, before descending down to the marshes of the Serpentine Estuary.
The Serpentine Estuary blocks my flight back to the north. I must be clever to run away.
Ahead of the concubines, the ox master curses in his strange tongue before he spits into the snow. With a bullwhip, he lashes the rear quarters of his enslaved beast. Ur’salla empathises with the ox. She’s endured the lash of the barbarians.
How could anyone treat a spirit with such disrespect, be it either of human or cattle kind? Ur'salla finds no rational answer.
This work is hard. In her own wilds, she’d have joined others in huddling close to the hearths. Laziness is a survival strategy for the winter savage. Anything else would be a wasteful squander of energy at a time of year when calories are few and precious. In contrast, she finds these barbarians rarely rest from their labours. Only for their religious celebrations do they stop. Such rare rest was afforded to Ur’salla and Aniko recently during celebrations of the winter solstice. That celebration to mark the passage of Shaah, the sun spirit, passed by, but their drudgery resumed.
Only thought of escape suffices to keep Ur’salla warm, Just as Bear has its great strength, and Wolf has its packhood, so the Children of the Goshawk have their smart heads with which to study their prey. If I’m to be clever in my escape then I should know my oppressors and their weaknesses.
She glances to her side at Aniko. This Lynx woman is too fearful of escape. Her spirit is weak and she has too easily accepted submission here. Aniko could teach me the weaknesses of the Leva, just as she knew of their superstition for this spirit called Ilua. Fear is a weakness that can be exploited,
‘Aniko, tell me more about the Leva’s religion. You’ve told me already of Shaah, and now you give mention of Ilua’.
Glad of the conversation Aniko is pleased to hear the new girl is willing to learn the new ways of Life. Aniko has been quick at acceptance. She knows the alternative to be mutilation or death. On capture, she first feared the barbarians were going to eat her. She was beaten at the timber hall. Aniko had been quick to accept the wafer of bread. Time and acceptance permits her to survive a more bearable life. She likes Ur’salla and wishes the same for her,
‘Ilua is the primal ancestor of all beginning-time. He takes the form of a bull, and steers the moon between his horns. Ilua moves among our cattle and gifts calves to us’.
Ur’salla notices how Aniko has taken on Leva identity with her compliance. The dutiful concubine elaborates on her new religion,
‘Ilua’s priests on Earth are the bullmen. Ilua forms a divine trinity with two other deities named Daghnu and Athirata. Daghnu is the Wheat Father and his priests are the strawmen. Daghnu is the keeper of the Dead, and he blesses our soils’.
‘This Athiratu, who is that?’
‘She’s the wife of Daghnu. Athiratu is the Frog Mother and her priestesses are the frog witches. She blesses us with her abundance of spawn. Athiratu and her witches are feared by men.
That the barbarian men fear a female is of interest. It could be a weakness to be used in escape, surmises Ur’salla. She asks one more question on this subject,
‘Aniko, I’ve heard mention of an ancestor called Raspu>. Who’s that?’
In reaction Aniko covers her mouth with a hand and expresses fear,
‘We shouldn't really talk idly of that deity. He’s the trickster who brings death. But with his destruction, he may bring renewal. As he brings to our world’
I think this faith of barbarians is most complex. Our own beliefs are simply innate and forged by our experience of belonging to the wilderness. We don’t have selfish deities who demand fear and sacrifice. We’ve no organisation of a religion beyond the midwife. Ur’salla feels burned out trying to understand the incomprehensible.
The ox-master brings Ur’salla’s attention to the present when he pulls down his hat over the tips of his ears, and uses his barbarian axe to shatter the ice of a high pond. He ushers the ox to satisfy its thirst, and for his own, fetches a drinking skin of beer from the beast’s pack. The barbarian belches when he grasps the attention of the two wild born concubines. He spouts something. Ur’salla needs no translation because she knows he suggested that they both quench their own thirst alongside the ox. Hate bites at Ur’salla’s spirit.
Any rest by the high pond is brief. The remainder of the tramp is downhill towards the Estuary. Ur’salla sees the smoke plumes of bonfires.
The Salt Pans
Light fades as ox and women creep closer to the bright fires close to salt marshes. Eager boys rush forward to receive fresh fuel. Above each bonfire is cradled a large ceramic pan that bubbles and foams as water is boiled away. Pots of concentrated brine are stored nearby awaiting dry, sunny days to be spread. Beyond these, is a small stack of jars, each fill with the finished product of seasalt. A valuable mineral granted by ancestors. So precious, that one such jar would be equal in value to Ur’salla’s life of freedom and happiness.
These barbarians are cruel. We savages can hear the cry of spirits as they call out from the diminishing wildwoods. They scream out against this progress of one kind over all others.