Stonehenge by Bernard Cornwell Read Free Book Online Page B

father.
    “Camaban,” Hirac shouted, “son of Hengall, son of Lock, I give you to Lahanna!” Annoyed by Saban’s interruption, he brought the great bone club down so that its ochred end smashed the chalk ball into fragments. He pounded the fragments into dust, and the watching crowd moaned as Camaban’s spirit was thus obliterated. Lengar grinned, while Hengall’s face showed nothing. Galeth flinched and Saban was weeping, but there was nothing they could do. This was business for the gods and for the priests.
    “What is the boy’s name?” Hirac demanded.
    “He has no name,” Gilan responded.
    “Who is his father?” Hirac asked.
    “He has no father,” Gilan said.
    “What is his tribe?”
    “He has no tribe,” Gilan intoned. “He does not exist.”
    Hirac stared into Camaban’s green eyes. He did not see a boy, for the boy was already dead, his life-spirit shattered and crushed into white dust. “Kneel,” he ordered.
    The youth obediently knelt. To some of the tribe it seemed odd that such a tall youth was to be killed by the aurochs’ bone, but, other than Saban, few in Ratharryn regretted Camaban’s death. Cripples brought ill luck, so cripples were better dead, to which end Hirac raised the Kill-Child high above his head, looked once at Lahanna then down to Camaban. The high priest tensed to givethe killing blow, but never gave it. He was motionless, and there was a sudden horror on Hirac’s face, and the horror was compounded because at that moment a rift opened in the clouds covering Slaol and a beam of sunlight lanced into the temple. A raven settled on one of the tallest poles and called loudly.
    The Kill-Child quivered in Hirac’s hands, but he could not bring it down.
    “Kill it,” Gilan whispered, “kill it!” But Gilan was standing behind Camaban and he could not see what Hirac could see. Hirac was staring down at Camaban who had stuck out his tongue and on the tongue were two slivers of gold. Outfolk gold. Slaol’s gold.
    The raven called again and Hirac looked up at the bird, wondering what its presence portended.
    Camaban tucked the gold pieces back into his cheek, wet a finger and dabbed it into the powdered chalk of his soul. “Slaol will be angry if you kill me,” he said to Hirac without stuttering, then he licked the chalk off his finger. He collected more, assembling his shattered spirit and eating it.
    “Kill it!” Neel screamed.
    “Kill it!” Hengall echoed.
    “Kill it!” Lengar called.
    “Kill it!” the crowd shouted.
    But Hirac could not move. Camaban ate more chalk, then looked up at the priest. “Slaol commands you to spare me,” he said very calmly, still without any stutter.
    Hirac stepped back, almost into the grave, and let the Kill-Child fall. “The goddess,” he announced hoarsely, “has rejected the sacrifice.”
    The crowd wailed. Saban, his eyes full of tears, was laughing.
    And the crooked child went free.

Chapter 3
    There was fear in Ratharryn after the failed sacrifice for there were few omens worse than a god rejecting a gift. Hirac would not say why he had refused to kill the child, only that he had been given a sign, then he took himself to his hut where his wives claimed he was suffering from a fever, and two nights later those same wives wailed in the darkness because the high priest was dead. They blamed Camaban, saying the cripple had cursed Hirac, but Gilan, who was now Ratharryn’s oldest priest, claimed that it had been a nonsense trying to kill a child marked with Lahanna’s sign. Hirac had only himself to blame, Gilan said, for Hirac had woefully mistranslated the message of the gods. The gold had gone to the Old Temple and that was surely a sign that Slaol wanted the temple remade. Hengall listened to Gilan, who was a cheerful, efficient man, but distrusted because of his admiration for Cathallo. “In Cathallo,” Gilan urged Hengall, “they have one great temple for all the gods and it has served them well. We should do the