Slioch is telling the story of how he met Alexander
The stench of cows was overpowering.
The winter snows had been with us for two moons now and it had been bitterly cold. We kept the sheep outside in a stone walled pen close by. They'd survive even the coldest weather. We put the cattle in the end of the hut. They were valuable. We didn't think those thieving Picts would have them – not even they were stupid enough to go raiding in this weather. The cold weather would have killed the cattle if we'd left them outside.
"You see, the weather is changing, Ael. Summers are getting hotter, winters are getting warmer." Lughaidh, the old druid, nodded towards the driving blizzard we could see through the doorway as the hide door-flap snapped in the gusting wind.
My father slowly looked in the direction Lughaidh indicated and spat.
He'd got two spits.
One was a long, slow spit that seemed to come from deep in his throat. This spit he used when he didn't believe what he was being told, but didn't want you to know.
The other was a short spit from the front of his month, delivered with some force. This spit he used when he agreed with you, but didn't want you to know.
He'd used the first spit.
Lughaidh continued. "These storms are nothing. When I was a boy, it would be like this for three or four moons during the winter."
He took a swig from the beaker of ale that my father had given him. He leant forward to emphasise the point he was about to make.
"Our cloaks are famous in many distant lands for keeping a man dry."
My father drew his cloak about him and spat. It was his second sort of spit.
"But with the weather changing, especially in the lands to the south," Lughaidh continued, "The Phoenicians tell us that they can't sell as many – and prices are dropping."
He paused to make sure his next statement had the effect he wanted.
"The Phoenicians say they won't take any cloaks this season."
"What!" my father exclaimed, the concern clearly on his weathered face.
"Now, now", Lughaidh tried to smooth away the concerns he had cleverly aroused.
"There is a trade that we have agreed with them."
My father's eyes narrowed. He knew that he was not going to like what was coming next.
"And is that what brings you here?" he asked, just a hint of anxiety in his voice.
"You are a sharp one, indeed, Ael!" Lughaidh smiled at my father, trying to allay his fears.
A sharp gust blew the door flap aside and a flurry of snow came into the hut.
Lughaidh drew his cloak close about him before continuing.
"The Phoenicians have come a long way – too far to go home without some sort of trade. So, the elders have agreed with the Phoenicians that they will take our cloaks to try to sell, without any payment, as they have nothing that we want to trade with us – thieving Picts ambushed them and cleaned them out."
My father made to make a protest but Lughaidh raised a hand to quieten him.
"We will take a son of theirs – a sort of hostage. They will take one of ours."
He hesitated, trying to gauge the impact of his words.
"When they return with the spices, oils and iron that we want, they can have their son back."
My father shot a furtive glance at me.
"Not much of a trade," he said.
Lughaidh shrugged his shoulders. "Best we could do in the situation. It was either that or be stuck with cloaks filling our barns till next harvest."
There was an awkward silence, as both men knew what was coming next.
My father carelessly tossed a log onto the fire, sparks showering the earthen floor.
"So," he said, trying to appear unconcerned, "how will the elders chose who is to go with the Phoenicians?"
"There is to be a tournament, winner goes. We need to send someone who will uphold the honour of the tribe." Lughaidh seemed relieved that my father had broached the subject.
My father snorted, threw back his head and laughed.
"No point Slioch entering," he said jerking his head in my direction. "If ever there was a child wrongly named, it's him. Can't throw a spear to save his life."
He turned to peer into the gloom of the hut and pointed at a small figure sitting on a bed of bracken. "His damn sister chucks a spear better than him!"
My sister Kady grinned at my father. She knew he was right. She was called Kady because she was the first-born and she was always right about everything.
Lughaidh gave short laugh but shook his head.
"No there will be no spears at this tournament. It'll be swords."
A deep frown formed on my father's face.
He and Lughaidh were old friends. Lughaidh had been a fearsome warrior in his younger days. Many's the Pictish raiding party that had felt the keen edge of his sword. Then his woman died and he got religion. Hung his spear and sword up and became a druid.
He tried to teach us boys about the knowledge and wisdom of the druids. Two summers ago he came one evening to our hut after one particularly long day with us boys.
"Ael, old friend", he said, "That boy of yours is hopeless at scholarly tasks. I'm going to teach him to be a swordsman instead."
My father knew that Lughaidh had spent many hours with me since then practicing swordplay. He knew Lughaidh spoke highly of my skill with the blade. He could see how this would play out.
He grunted. "So when is this tournament?"
"We will need to leave tomorrow. The tournament is the next day."
My father nodded slowly, deep in thought. At length he roused himself, turned to me and said "Slioch, get some rest. We leave at first light."
"Yes father", I said, not understanding what was going on. I rose and walked towards by bed at the back of the hut.
As I walked passed Lughaidh, he caught my arm and looked deep into my eyes.
"Fear not, Slioch", he said softly. "I have seen the signs. Alator and Albiorix have spoken."