The Horse Goddess (Celtic World of Morgan Llywelyn) by Morgan Llywelyn
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
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died! The spirit has starved under my own roof! Our family will be punished!” The tall woman bent double in the gloom, moaning with grief.
Darkness lived in the lodge. The dark of the night beyond the rim of firelight, the night of the wolf and the bear; the dark of millennia past, pushed back and held at bay only by the spirit of the fire.
Epona shrank back, unwilling to enter. She felt her near-kin crowding behind her and heard their exclamations of shock and disapproval. Then Brydda’s voice, crying out, “What’s happened? Why don’t you go in … The fire! What’s happened to the fire?”
Rigantona controlled herself and straightened up, her eyes as cold as lake water. She came out of the lodge and grabbed Brydda by the elbow. “You should know,” Rigantona hissed. “You let it die. In my memory, no wife in this tribe has let a lodgefire die. You are an enemy now.”
Brydda cowered before the upraised fist of the older woman. “I didn’t mean …”
“You didn’t mean!” Rigantona roared in anger. “You let the fire spirit starve to death and you didn’t mean! What if we had no gutuiter to rekindle it for us? What if we were alone and without fire stones? We would die, and our unborn children within us would die; many might be lost to the tribe because of your carelessness.” Her voice was shaking. “You are an enemy, Brydda,” she accused again. “Epona, go to the commonground and bring Toutorix here at once; then summon Tena.”
Ignoring the throbbing in her arm when she ran, Epona raced over the footpounded earth in search of Toutorix. Once she would have found him in the center of a joyous battle, but now he stood to one side with his arm around his brother Taranis, shouting encouragement as Goibban trounced two of the miners simultaneously. When Epona tugged at his sleeve he looked down with annoyance, but even in the twilight he could see the trouble in her face. He followed her without hesitation.
His family was huddled together outside the lodge. Within the lodge was nothingness; anything could happen to a person in that darkness.
Epona left Toutorix with Rigantona and the now-sobbing Brydda and went to bring Tena, She Who Summons Fire.
The matter was very serious. A tribal council must be convened immediately, with all the druii in attendance, since the spirits were involved; but before anything else the chief’s lodgefire must be relit. To leave the lord of the tribe in darkness might bring a similar darkness on all his people. The tribe crowded around outside as Tena, already chanting incantations, entered the lodge alone. Other families had joined Rigantona and her children and jostled one another for vantage points, peering inside, anxious to see the expected birth. Toutorix stood off to one side, holding Brydda’s arm in a relentless grip. Okelos had come at the run, angry at first but then as shocked as the others, and now he stood as far away from his wife as possible. If she had brought the fury of the spirits down upon them, it was better not to call attention to the fact that she was his wife.
The damage Brydda had done was already evident. The sky, in sympathy with the spirit of the fire, was showing no stars. Black clouds had piled up over the lake and a distant flicker of starfire warned of a coming storm. The Kelti murmured uneasily; the angered spirits might call down the starfire to attack their lodges and burn them. Such things had been known to happen; starfire had struck and killed people where they stood.
A tiny spark, a faint glow, flared into life within the lodge, and then flame blossomed. The watchers sighed in unison. Crowding close to the doorway, those in front could see Tena’s face, golden above the firepit, as she sang to the newborn flame and nurtured it.
Now it was safe for the chief’s family to re-enter, but Brydda was not allowed through the doorway. Wrapped in blankets, she spent the night huddled outside the lodge, and Rigantona brought the
Darkness lived in the lodge. The dark of the night beyond the rim of firelight, the night of the wolf and the bear; the dark of millennia past, pushed back and held at bay only by the spirit of the fire.
Epona shrank back, unwilling to enter. She felt her near-kin crowding behind her and heard their exclamations of shock and disapproval. Then Brydda’s voice, crying out, “What’s happened? Why don’t you go in … The fire! What’s happened to the fire?”
Rigantona controlled herself and straightened up, her eyes as cold as lake water. She came out of the lodge and grabbed Brydda by the elbow. “You should know,” Rigantona hissed. “You let it die. In my memory, no wife in this tribe has let a lodgefire die. You are an enemy now.”
Brydda cowered before the upraised fist of the older woman. “I didn’t mean …”
“You didn’t mean!” Rigantona roared in anger. “You let the fire spirit starve to death and you didn’t mean! What if we had no gutuiter to rekindle it for us? What if we were alone and without fire stones? We would die, and our unborn children within us would die; many might be lost to the tribe because of your carelessness.” Her voice was shaking. “You are an enemy, Brydda,” she accused again. “Epona, go to the commonground and bring Toutorix here at once; then summon Tena.”
Ignoring the throbbing in her arm when she ran, Epona raced over the footpounded earth in search of Toutorix. Once she would have found him in the center of a joyous battle, but now he stood to one side with his arm around his brother Taranis, shouting encouragement as Goibban trounced two of the miners simultaneously. When Epona tugged at his sleeve he looked down with annoyance, but even in the twilight he could see the trouble in her face. He followed her without hesitation.
His family was huddled together outside the lodge. Within the lodge was nothingness; anything could happen to a person in that darkness.
Epona left Toutorix with Rigantona and the now-sobbing Brydda and went to bring Tena, She Who Summons Fire.
The matter was very serious. A tribal council must be convened immediately, with all the druii in attendance, since the spirits were involved; but before anything else the chief’s lodgefire must be relit. To leave the lord of the tribe in darkness might bring a similar darkness on all his people. The tribe crowded around outside as Tena, already chanting incantations, entered the lodge alone. Other families had joined Rigantona and her children and jostled one another for vantage points, peering inside, anxious to see the expected birth. Toutorix stood off to one side, holding Brydda’s arm in a relentless grip. Okelos had come at the run, angry at first but then as shocked as the others, and now he stood as far away from his wife as possible. If she had brought the fury of the spirits down upon them, it was better not to call attention to the fact that she was his wife.
The damage Brydda had done was already evident. The sky, in sympathy with the spirit of the fire, was showing no stars. Black clouds had piled up over the lake and a distant flicker of starfire warned of a coming storm. The Kelti murmured uneasily; the angered spirits might call down the starfire to attack their lodges and burn them. Such things had been known to happen; starfire had struck and killed people where they stood.
A tiny spark, a faint glow, flared into life within the lodge, and then flame blossomed. The watchers sighed in unison. Crowding close to the doorway, those in front could see Tena’s face, golden above the firepit, as she sang to the newborn flame and nurtured it.
Now it was safe for the chief’s family to re-enter, but Brydda was not allowed through the doorway. Wrapped in blankets, she spent the night huddled outside the lodge, and Rigantona brought the
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