Only the Stones Survive: A Novel by Morgan Llywelyn Page B

campfires, no one would see him practice.
     
     
    Following Donn’s instructions, the freemen began to dig a defensive bank and erect an earthwork wall while the sons of Mílesios led the expeditionary party farther inland. The participants consisted of seasoned warriors, both Mílesian and the best of the lesser clans, plus Colptha to represent the spirit world, Amergin to see and remember, and Scotta, who demanded to be included in her late husband’s name. Heavily laden with her finest jewelery, her richest clothing, and a sword in her belt as befitted a warrior, she rode in the chariots of each of her sons in turn.
    Éremón’s chariot was so packed with his personal food supplies that there was barely room for him and his charioteer. He grumbled when things had to be rearranged to accommodate his mother.
    Éber Finn had a little more room in his war cart, although his baggage included four tunics, a heavy cloak lined with fur, an extra pair of soft leather boots, and an inlaid box for his combs and razors and scented hair paste.
    Colptha’s supplies included bags filled with vile-smelling herbs and a collection of oddly shaped roots and branches. Scotta spent as little time as possible in his chariot. She confided to one of the other women that his roots and branches poked her in her private parts.
    Amergin, who accompanied them on foot, wore his customary blue woolen cloak and unbleached tunic. His baggage consisted of a second tunic in the pack on his back and the harp in her case. Bardic rank accorded him a chariot, which he rarely used. He preferred to feel the earth beneath his bare feet, the living earth. As a druid he was part of her and she of him.
    As they traveled inland, they realized what a truly rich land they had discovered. Ierne was clothed with endless impenetrable forests of oak and elm and ash; enough timber to house and fuel countless thousands. There was pine and hazel, aspen, alder, holly, and elm.
    An abundance of rivers and streams watered grasslands that were green both in summer and winter and could nourish more herds than the Mílesians had ever owned. Trees and bushes were laden with fruit and nuts; game of every description seemed eager to present itself to the spear.
    They also caught glimpses of wickerwork huts among the hills, and once or twice they saw what looked like a ruined stone fort. “This is too easy,” Éremón remarked to his charioteer. “Land can only be won through deeds of valor. Ask my brother the bard; he knows all the stories. If we don’t have someone to fight, there will be no deeds of valor. Where are the people?” he called to his brother.
    Éber Finn stood tall in his chariot with his mother beside him. “I see huts but no people. Perhaps they all starved to death.”
    “In a land like this?” Scotta retorted. “I don’t think so. Be on your guard; we may have action yet.”
    Which is exactly what her husband would have said.
    They had continued their journey unchallenged until they came to a range of purple mountains, jagged and dangerous as shark’s teeth. When they reached the foothills, Donn suggested they encamp for the night, but Éremón and Éber Finn wanted to push on. “Before the sun sets there will be plenty of time to make ourselves comfortable.”
    This time Donn had capitulated.
    The twilight did not last as long as they expected. The air turned cold and thin and blue and soon the ground was too stony for the chariots. When one of his wheels began to wobble on its axle, Éber Finn called out, “Let’s stop now, brothers! Tomorrow we can either find a way through the mountains or choose a different direction entirely.”
    Éremón muttered in his beard. He did not like for anyone else to make decisions.
    Donn led the way to a large stand of pines where they could tie their teams and wait for Amergin to catch up with them. Éremón went on by himself for a short distance, then reluctantly turned back.
    The mountains ahead were grim and