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    Caledonii: Birth of a Nation. (Part One: The Great Gather)
    Caledonii: Birth of a Nation. (Part One: The Great Gather)
    Caledonii: Birth of a Nation. (Part One: The Great Gather)
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    Caledonii: Birth of a Nation. (Part One: The Great Gather)

    By Ian Hall

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    About this ebook

    The year is 74 AD. The Roman Legions have held control of Southern Britain for 19 years. In that time they have solidified their hold, and put down tribal rebellions by Boudicca of the Icenii, and Venutius of the Brigantes. With the tribes pacified at their backs, the Romans advance their roads northward, with their goal: the conquest of the whole of the British Isles.
    The Northern Druids, realizing this, have arranged a meeting of all seventeen tribal, or clan, chiefs. Amidst the bitter local rivalries, and deep-scored bickering, the Druids try to unite the clans together to face the oncoming Roman threat.
    Calach is the fifteen-year-old eldest son of the chief of the Caledonii Clan, and is cast into clan politics for the first time. Destined to be chief one day, and acknowledging the importance of such a gathering, he is bewildered by the chief’s antipathy to each other.
    Thus begins Calach’s story.
    This is Part One of a series, to be released in Novella length pieces.
    Part One is over 100 pages, and runs over 30,000 words.
    Comments by readers are welcome.
    Ian Hall, the author, spent his childhood 10 miles south of Edinburgh, Scotland, and played in a 2000 year old Roman encampment as a boy. His bedroom looked out onto the Pentland Hills, named by the conquering Roman army. This story is in his blood.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherIan Hall
    Release dateNov 14, 2011
    ISBN9781466048843
    Caledonii: Birth of a Nation. (Part One: The Great Gather)
    Author

    Ian Hall

    Ian Hall is a former Commander Officer of No. 31 Squadron (1992-4), as well as being the editor and writer of the Squadron Association's three-times-a-year 32-page newsletter. He is the author of Upwards, an aviation-themed novel currently available as a Kindle download. This is his first full-length historical study, having previously penned a 80-page history of No 31 Squadron's early Tornado years.

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      Book preview

      Caledonii - Ian Hall

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

      Copyright © Ian Hall. Hallanish Publishing.

      All rights reserved, and the author reserves the right to re-produce this book, or parts thereof, in any way whatsoever.

      Caledonii; Birth of a Nation.

      (Part One; The Great Gather.)

      By Ian Hall.

      Published by Ian Hall (Hallanish Publications) at Smashwords

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Table of Contents;

      Introduction.

      Chapter 1. Circal Rosich (The Rose Red Circle). Summer 74 AD.

      Chapter 2. The Opening of Dialogue. Summer 74 AD.

      Chapter 3. The Plan is Hatched. Summer 74AD.

      Chapter 4. The Thickened Plot is Solidified. Summer 74AD.

      Introduction.

      The year is 74 AD. The Roman Legions have held control of Southern Britain for 19 years. In that time they have solidified their hold, and put down tribal rebellions by Boudicca of the Icenii, and Venutius of the Brigantes. They are advancing north, with their eyes on the whole of the Island.

      In the Norlands, the dhruids have arranged a meeting of all seventeen tribal, or clan, chiefs.

      Thus the story begins…

      Chapter 1.

      Circal Rosich (The Rose Red Circle).

      Summer 74 AD.

      You’re not from around here, are you?

      Conrack could sense the doubt and instinctive mistrust within the clansman’s question. The sentry’s eyes took in the details of his clothing; the faint red hatched pattern on his trews had definitely labeled him as a stranger.

      I’ve come this far. I’m not letting this man stop me.

      No. Conrack answered as he walked his horse towards the man. I’m from the Selgove, I’m late for the great ‘gaither’. The lie came easily to a youth, well-versed in the art. I thought my horse had broken a leg, an’ fell behind the main party.

      It seems alright now. The clansman looked carefully at the horse’s gait.

      Aye, he’s walked it off. Conrack advanced as he spoke.

      You’re Selgove, you say? The man frowned. You’re a bit off the trail then. It’s over towards the east.

      Conrack kept closing the distance between them, pulling on the reins of his mount. His only weapons were a sharpened staff and the dirk he had cut it with. No use for distance work. He cast his eyes quickly over the clansman’s weapons; he held a spear in his hand, and had a sword thrust through his belt.

      I have to get closer. I have to be certain of the outcome.

      To the east? He was closing fast. That way?

      Conrack gestured with the staff, keeping his hand firmly over the point, masking the true danger.

      Almost there.

      Aye. the clansman turned his head, indicating the direction. If you kept going along here, you would find a glen to the east soon enough.

      Fool!

      It was just the opening he needed. Dropping the reins, he lunged quickly forward, and with a swift upward sweep of his staff, he caught the unsuspecting clansman squarely on the underside of the chin. There was a loud ‘crunch’ as his jaw and teeth were shattered, then his body went limp and he fell to the ground.

      In an instant he stood above the prone clansman, the pointed end of the staff raised to quickly finish the encounter. But it was unnecessary. His opponent was unconscious, blood already pouring from his mouth. He looked around him, scanning the glen and hills on either side, but could see no one else.

      With a sickening sound, Conrack drove the sharpened end of the staff into the man’s skull. He spat to one side and stamped the spittle into the grass. This one’s for you Baal!

      After another long look around, he dropped his staff and quickly searched through the man’s clothes.

      Food would be good! he said, as he rummaged through the clansman’s pockets. Finding nothing, he grabbed the man’s arm, pulling him upright and hoisted the corpse over his shoulders. He picked up the spear and started up the hill. It only took a few moments to reach the side of the escarpment; a scree slope leading down to the slow flowing river. With a heave, he dropped the man to the ground then kicked him roughly over the edge. He watched as the body tumbled and twisted on its way to the river’s rocky bank. Reluctantly he tossed the spear after him.

      Nothing to connect me to this; not even the sword.

      He must have slipped. he said, smiling, as the body came to rest, half submerged in the river far below. He looked about him again, searching the surrounding slopes for witnesses. Finding none, he retraced his steps to his waiting horse, retrieved his staff and continued on his way.

      A glen to the east, he mumbled, Thanks for the directions.

      As he made way, he laughed at his own joke.

      ~ ~ ~

      Calach heard the bowstring’s release, felt the arrow’s impact in the grass beside him.

      Very funny Aysar! he called, his patience being tried to the full. Now quit mucking about an’ concentrate on the job?

      He glanced to his left, where the arrow had impacted. The brown feathers were arm’s length away, the arrow forced almost horizontal through the turf by its low trajectory.

      Aysar was undeterred. Was that close enough for you? The muffled call drifted from across the glen.

      Calach was determined not to encourage more horseplay. He adjusted his tone sternly. We’re here to keep watch, no’ to play games!

      Aye, but I’m bored. We’ve been here a’ day!

      Come on Aysar, let’s not make this more difficult than it is!

      Calach! I’m bored! The shout, this time held no effort to remain quiet.

      There still could be one group to pass this way. Calach lowered his voice. Ma’damar could still come through here, an’ I’m not being held responsible for missing him if he does!

      If Ma’damar’s coming through here, he’s leaving it pretty late!

      Look Aysar, just shut up! Calach hissed, just loud enough for his friend to hear.

      Bugger off. Came the muffled whispered reply.

      Calach settled back down, pressing his body hard into the ground, his bow in the grass in front of him. They had planned their position days beforehand, and were hiding in an area of rocks and long grass on either side of the long glen which was the main route north into their clan’s territory; the perfect place to keep watch over its full length. In parts the floor of the glen was quite wide, but at the end where they lay, the walls narrowed dramatically.

      It was the perfect sentry position.

      He had matted his long brown hair with dried mud and ash, carefully mixed to the same grey colour as the surrounding rocks, and pulled the grey tendrils forward over his eyes to camouflage his face. With the mix through his hair and rubbed into his shoulders, he was undetectable.

      Damn him to Lugh; he’s interrupted my concentration. Now I have to start all over again.

      He let the view of the glen go slightly out of focus and felt forwards and outward with what the dhruids had called the ‘hunter’s eye’. As he let his senses drift, he tried to take in every detail; the grasses shifting slightly in the breeze, the droning and clicking of the insects, the smell of the heather and the earth beneath him. He took stock of the birdcalls, the scratching of a hare. With his hunter’s eye, every living creature became almost incandescent to him. He could see their positions in his mind. When he brought all the visions together, they worked in harmony.

      Such a skill did not come naturally to everyone; some could not perfect the art at all. In Calach it had almost become instinctive.

      In a hunt, this extra sense was a huge advantage. Calach had even loosed his arrows with eyes closed, and found the mark.

      Calach repeated the dhruid’s mantra; Become a part o’ Baal the Earth Spirit. He’ll shield an’ protect you. Feel the Earth Spirit, feel his hands moving over you, pulling you down into the earth. Feel Baal making you part o’ the earth, part o’ the rocks.

      As he recited the litany, he had the distinct feeling that he could feel the Earth Spirit’s icy hands wrench on his gut pulling him down onto the rock and grass where he lay. A lock of his hair lay scattered somewhere in the grass just beyond his bow, a sacrifice to Baal. The words were familiar, comforting and gave him confidence; helped him concentrate on

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