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Celtic Tales 5 Migration
Celtic Tales 5 Migration
Celtic Tales 5 Migration
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Celtic Tales 5 Migration

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Join the Celtic clans as they migrate around the globe. Put yourself in the shoes of the harried, hungry, and sometimes frightened people who, for one reason or another, were seeking a new home. You will trudge through the desert, walk across the frozen ocean, sail on ships, and ride horses.

The stresses and strains of migrating bound them together and tore them apart. Find out how the Beautiful People sowed the seeds of their own destruction. Meet the ugly man that Persia was named for. Migrate with Scythia, Luxor, and Media.


Take yourself on these journeys; become connected to your past.

LanguageEnglish
PublisheriUniverse
Release dateJul 21, 2005
ISBN9780595809370
Celtic Tales 5 Migration
Author

Jill Whalen

I am a Celtic mother of eight who is writing about family stories that have been handed down by word of mouth. I live in the beautiful Missouri Ozarks, am a graduate of Millikin University, and a member of Mensa.

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    Celtic Tales 5 Migration - Jill Whalen

    TALE I: PREPARATION

    Our Celtic clan is a mountain group. We are called the Hawks. We are free. We move as we will. We are like the hawks above the mountains; we tend to have the look of the hawk in our eyes. It’s free. It’s dangerous. The hawk is not like the chicken. It has to find its own food. There are days when it goes hungry. The hawk must find its own place to shelter from the wind, the rain, and the snow, but when it flies, it flies free. It is not raised for the dinner table. I will be a hawk, thank you.

    Chad Iying has been born and has married. Prophesy told about a great disaster that would come a few years after that marriage. I have found the one who will lead our people to the west. It will be the finest crossings of the blood ever seen. He is my great-grandson. I have been trying to get the best. I have had no contact with him about this, because I wanted him to be his own man.

    When my grandfather was a young man and heard about this prophesy, he sent many people to the west to prepare for a great migration. I have trained other men who are not Celtic, but they are very tough. They and their fathers and their grandfathers and the men before that knew that one day they would lead their people to a land where they could have equal status with clan, a land where they could be as we treat them, not as others treat them. We may have better abilities than some, but we don’t feel we have any right to think we are better than any other people.

    Over the years, we have watched thousands of young men. Of all the clansmen, of all the times that we have seen, this young man is one of the finest they have ever produced. He will not rampage and slaughter all. He is smart enough to lead his people away from the danger.

    The women have taken up this thing. They have a young woman out of another line that they say will be his bride. The young woman will focus him on more interesting things. It is not that she is trying to fool him, quite the opposite. She will be a good empress. She wishes to have her man beside her and children of his in her arms. She has wanted this all of her life. She was regal when she was a child, and she’s been regal while growing. She is a beautiful woman. Her hair is red with some yellow in it. It moves almost as if it were alive. I have seen her. She’s a fine young woman. I looked at her, and she has energy, beauty, honor, intelligence, and humor. She is a fine person. The boy, they say, is her peer, only he is a bit arrogant and a bit proud, but you need that in a young male. He should grow up into a fine leader, but one who is brutal enough to do what a leader must do.

    I am not going to make it on the migration, I am sorry to say, but I sit here in this valley while the scouts bring back reports. I have only told them that he will lead them to a new land. There is a danger coming such as no man has ever seen. It will spread across the land faster than a horse can ride. It will spread across all the parts of the land that we know, except for the cold parts in the far north, the mountains to the south, the sea to the east, and perhaps, one can hope, the desert to the west. It is fortunate that this catastrophe has come upon us during this time in the earth’s history. Imagine if it was another time when the ice was further to the north, and there were grasslands leading across.

    We have planned and arranged over, and over, and over again what will happen. We have different scenarios. We only need two groups of men to go and find the boy. One group has gone to Mu in the north; the other group has gone to the south to his aunt’s place to look for him. The girl has chosen to go with the north party. They have gone. It is all beyond me now.

    I sent my beloved sword off with Rickshay and the northern group. He is no spring chicken, but he will take it to the boy and get him out and away. That group will bring the boy here to the valley to lead our people across the deserts and wastelands to the new lands in the far west. If Rickshay leads the group back here, he probably won’t go any further than this valley or the beginning of the desert, because he, like me, is old.

    The boy’s aunt is very greedy and might somehow betray him. If she kills him, then I will send the groups ahead with the best alternate I can find. We know him. If he is not there, then they will come back here. If they find him, then they will get him free someway, even if it kills all of them.

    We think the aunt will want to be able to answer in front of a truth sayer that she had no hand in his death or in harm brought to him, so if his aunt betrays him, Mu would be the easiest place to get rid of him. There would be less talk; he would just be one more slave. In Mu there are several possibilities. The most likely is that he might be bought for the gladiator ring for special occasions, such as is coming up with the emperor’s birthday. If they look at his hands they will see that he has calluses from weapons training.

    I sent the finest swordsman, Gorello, to him years ago to teach him to fight with a sword, especially the largest sword, a byrne. Gorello took a sword the same weight and balance as mine, except it was made of water steel; mine was made of a special rare metal. He told the boy that he had heard that there was a young master who was decent with a sword. He had a prize for him if he could take it from him. The boy didn’t take it from him until he turned thirteen years of age. By that time, the master swordsman had taught him just about everything he knew about swordsmanship. Older muscles can do more things, but it is better if they learn their own tricks. Besides, it is not the facileness of the sword blade in battle that wins; it is the mind and the will of the man or woman.

    This valley is as far to the west as you can get without coming to the desert. There is a shield wall we knew oflong ago. One mountain stands in front of the other. You go up a valley, take many different paths, and then you come to the edge of the desert. We have already moved most of the people across the desert to the first permanent water. There are others who have refused to go further than the first day’s march across the sand. They sit there already in tents. I sit here above those that are left. They waste their energy sending one person up to see me every day. They see that I have food and broth. They make me drink it. I wait.

    By now they have found the boy and are on their way back. We heard the thunder in the night. That is when I sent everyone out. There was a thunder and a shaking like you’ve never heard.

    I have done everything that I can do. I fight for every breath, so that I might be here if they have need of me. In the east and slightly to the north, there was a strangeness that you could feel. If the boy is not already on his way here, he won’t be coming. They are probably riding men and horses to death to get him through. The two hosts will converge and rest briefly, and then they will take as many horses as are in good shape. They will continue to ride them, and ride them down further and further with the best of the men on them, guarding him and his bride, but mostly him. If she gets killed, they can survive. If he gets killed, I’m not sure they can.

    The girl won’t leave him after she sees him. He is her equal, her mate, someone to walk beside, and there aren’t many.

    We could not let anyone know about the migration, because spies for the people of Mu would have known all the plans. They would have sent armies to stop us. People would have come. When the strangeness came they would head for our place. I wanted no roads clogged to get in that boy’s way. He needed to grow into who he is. How could I shape him? Would he have said, Wait; I must get my mother and my family. Does he now? He looks at that girl who rides ever beside him. If she weren’t strapped in the saddle, she would probably fall out. She is not trained to ride like that. The boy will do it with no problem. Most of those men, as hard as they are, will kill themselves trying to stay up. The girl will strap herself in. She isn’t going to let her guy go. There will be a few others.

    I’ve set among these people a group who call themselves the Brothers. They are led by a man who I would have for my own son. The old man who leads the whole group is good, but the young man who leads the Brothers is a bit crueler than clan usually is, but he is a fine man. Unless a horse trips and he breaks his neck, he’ll be there at the end. I sent four women back to chaperone the girl, stitch up wounds and such. They can ride until the end of time. This is not a jest. I sent back one boy. He will assist the cook. I made sure he had not had any fighting. He is a direct descendant of mine. I do not wish him to be in the raiding and fighting groups that go to get the boy. He will be there cooking and watching. They do not notice a cooking boy much. It is good experience for a ten year old. I have gotten him to promise not to show his prince’s braid until he gets across the desert. When they get across the desert he may tell who he is. He will do well. This is a toughening time for him. He needs to go on such things, so he can tell great stories. He is just a boy. They will ride for over a month to get here. They will ride and probably rest only one or two days out of that I will have to send word down, if I am still alive, and let them rest an hour or so, but that’s all. Then they must go. To wait here is death. When the enemy comes to the final home, I hope to be alive to meet them. They may kick my gaunt old body after I’m dead, but there will be many of them who die before me. They will have a time even finding me. I sit here in my stone seat, and I wait and watch. I drink water from time to time.

    Our group will be getting away through the desert with three hundred and seventy three thousand non Celtic hawk people, sixty two thousand seven hundred forty nine—unless they’ve had more babies or people have died—Celtic clan, four hundred thousand horses, three hundred thousand camels, four thousand of a thing that you are probably not familiar with—you ride it; it fights, eats

    meat and plants, and has horns like a goat—eighteen of the big hunting cats, several thousand of the fighting, hunting dogs, and of course, two hundred seventy

    one white cows and bulls of the great dancing line. This is what we have saved. * * * *

    The northern group found the young man to lead the group. They rode into this valley, stayed overnight and were off again. The last of the people are away now. One person stayed. I could not get him to go. He is one of the reasons I am still alive to tell the story. I was going to sit up there and distract them for as long as I could. From where I was, I might keep them busy for half a day, a whole day if I was lucky.

    It scared the hell out of me. The leader and the last of our people went out of here before dawn one morning. That afternoon, the first of the enemy started coming in. They began to eat animals, some of the herds, and then they moved on down in the valley, through the houses and such. They ate animals, fruit out of the garden, grain out of the grain bins, and normal stuff. They ran well. A good man can out run a horse easily.

    I was there getting ready when I heard a scraping sound. I looked. There was Darleeni. He smiled a timid smile, and said, You’d die up here without water. Would you like a drink?

    He was about nine years old. I took a drink. We sat there watching. I thought about it. If we went out the trail he had come we would come to an old path that went along the edge of the cliff and up to the top and over. Far down the mountains, it came down into the desert. I knew five water holes out. It was an old path, for a small band. I had hunted it when I was young. At first we thought ofit for the main group, but when we realized how many people we would have, we had rejected it. That would get the boy and me out pretty far, but we would have no animal. I got the boy to promise that if I went down on my knees and could not get up, that he would go on without me. I figured once I got him started, he would be all right.

    The boy and I saw the end of our way of life; it would never be like it was before. We talked about that as we came across the desert, because I wished him to understand what we had seen and what it meant for the future of that land. There was no going back. There was no reason.

    I thought to myself that the trail we used might not have been found for a day, but no more. When we went across the desert, God blew his wind and our tracks went away. After we left the water hole near the mountains, we walked south alongside the mountains for a long way, so that enemy would think that we were headed to the south. We had to go a little south anyway to go out for the first of the five waterholes. We went down that way and around another little peak to the water. We drank and filled our water bottles. It was not good enough water to dump our bottles and refill, so we just added to. I covered the waterhole up with a rock slide. You could probably get water out, but only if you knew it was there. We went further south and there was hardpan all over. We turned and struck toward the west with the wind scouring the hardpan sand. We walked most carefully over it.

    We came to the place of the flowing wells. We went to water hole five and then went up to join the main trail. I almost didn’t make it up to the holes. I’m glad the people in the migration stopped blowing up the wells after the second one. We came in at waterhole three or four. There is a place where the clan had built pools and flows out into the desert. Some of the people still stayed there, even though they should have gone west with the main body. I was surprised to find them there. They grew up there. They loved the place. They saw no sign of the enemy. If the enemy followed us into the Gobi desert it would be hard for them. By the time you get to the last water hole, you go two days, and then you come to the lip of the Taklimak. You look down into it. It seems to go on forever. It looks like there is no water there. There is water for us along the southern rim, but you have to know where it is.

    Those people who stayed behind at the water flows looked at us oddly, but they found weapons for us, better clothes, and dried fruit from the desert tree, the date. We rested up there. They had three horses that had straggled in after the main group left. The horses were not in good shape, but they were getting better. Those people told us that they would like to keep the horses, but the horses were from our group, so I took them. I started to leave the third one, but then I realized we were going to need all the help we could get. I packed that horse with water, dates, and a bit of journey bread. We went out. We came into the hill about a month after they had moved on. Hunting was still poor. I was not the best I have ever been.

    We got better at hunting as we went along. I tanned the leather and worked it into beautiful designs. When we got to the warm sea the boy sold the leather. I didn’t want to tell people who I was. I had picked the young man to be leader, and I wanted him to lead.

    I have been well for an old fool. The boy and I are going north. I am not a good builder, but they need gates up north. The power lines are crossing weirdly, strangely. They call for one with the old knowledge. How can I refuse? I don’t know much, but I’ve got some knowledge. The boy talks to the builders. They will come. We will go up and begin. I can see the lines. They are blue, sometimes green. This is no problem. It is where the planes intersect. I would not want to walk on the lines, or between them. I am no expert, but I don’t know what might happen. I was surprised many people could not see them, even the great lords of Mu. I do not think much of those men. They have no power, no ability to lead. They are called the great lords, because they are good merchants; they are good at stealing, or killing a family in the back with poisons?

    I was going to foster the boy out according to the custom, to give him a chance to grow his own life. He came to me the night before he was to go, asking how he had offended. I told him he knew about fostering. He told me that this was for others, not for him and me, besides he was past the age for fostering. He was in his late teens. Some are fostered late like that, but in other ways he was right, he was way too old. I relented. I let my own personal greed win. I listened to his tears. He stayed with me. He is a good boy.

    TALE 2: DESERT MlGRATION

    I was fifteen years old, and I had just passed my manhood rites earlier that summer. I was sent away for two years of boarding with my aunt, who ruled over one of my mother’s far lands. Everything went well, except I didn’t like the way the people treated me on the caravan. My aunt greeted me when we got there, and then she showed everyone a bright and vivid outfit that I would be wearing that night at supper. I went to my room to wash up and change into the new clothes. Ayoung man stepped out of another room with the same outfit on. I’m afraid my mind went completely blank for a second. Suddenly four men had me down and were tying me and putting a gag in my mouth. The boy was talking the whole time. He was my aunt’s son, my cousin. He planned to take over my place and stay there five years or so as reagent. Then he would try to replace me at my mother’s place and replace her with my aunt. The people in the castle had seen him leave two weeks before, going for his outfreyen. Some would know, but they were close family.

    My mouth was abraded from the bit that went in my mouth. I had to breathe through my nose and had to struggle to keep from dying. They dropped me out in a city. The man in charge looked me over and finally took the gag out. My hands had no calluses. He looked closer at my right hand, and then he looked at both hands keenly and said, The boy is a warrior. He has sword scars and bow scars.

    So it was the men took half price for me. A warrior doesn’t make a very good slave. The old man wasn’t sure if I was going to live anyway. I was acting like I was hurt a lot worse than I was. After they had gone, he jerked on the string that had a loop around my neck until I choked.

    He said, You can stop play acting with me, boy.

    So I did. He gave me water to drink, and put me on the slave block that afternoon.

    Mobreya trained farm boys and such for the rings in Mu, where they got to fight to the death, or win and got to go to the parties in Mu. I don’t know which one was better. Mobreya had a slave, Heoman, who came along looking over people. Heoman never touched my hands, not once. He stopped at the man next to me and looked him over. He looked at his master and nodded up and down. Another man outbid his master easily for the man next to me. When it came my turn, no one really wanted me. They had shaved my prince’s braid off, but they couldn’t take the look of the eagle out of my eye. I was dirty, filthy. My mouth was bloody; my wrists were bloody; my neck was raw. I was a sight. That slaver wanted to make a profit out of me and get rid of me quickly, before my family came, or before I caused him trouble. I would say he was a smart man. He sold me very cheap. People were laughing at Mobreya who bought me. He turned away, then turned back, reached out and gripped my right hand. He looked at it and felt the scars.

    He said, So, you’ve been trained for the large sword? This was true, but I didn’t say anything. He said, You’ll get a chance to fight, boy.

    He took me over to a cage. I went up through the opening to that thing. There was one place where the straw had been heaped up high, so that the rest of the floor was bare. There was this big hulk up there. I said, Spread the straw out evenly.

    He reached out and grabbed me by the throat. I hit him where you breathe, then very slowly bent his little finger back until he quickly kicked all the straw out pretty good. He sat over in the corner and said, Maybe we’ll be ring partners.

    I said, I hope so. I’d like to live through it. Ring partners fight until the death of one. He didn’t understand. I defeated him in a little tiny cage, where you couldn’t even stand up straight. How was he going to defeat me in a ring where it was open? They would have had to break both of my legs for him to even have a shot at it.

    That man said to me, Stop playing with the other boys. Don’t hurt anybody. Behind the seat here, underneath, are water bottles and bags of bread sticks. The meat sticks are the thin ones and the fruit sticks are the thick ones. Get food and water whenever you wish.

    I had water and let it trickle around my hurt mouth and down my throat. One of the other guys came up and looked at my mouth. He said something in a language I didn’t understand to the man who bought me. The man said, Peel down your lip, boy, and let me see. Dammit!

    He told me to eat as best I could, then rinse my mouth. I was to let him know when I was done, and then he would put some medicine on the inside of my mouth. He put the medicine on and it did help. He took pretty good care of us for slaves. He had to have us in good shape for the ring.

    Finally one night we got to the training camp. When we got out of the cage we were inside the training walls. The men loosened our shackles. The man in charge and his head trainer put us through our paces, and then they fed us. As long as we didn’t try to escape, it was forbidden to mark us in any way as a slave, since we might win our freedom. The head trainer explained all that to us. High up on his right cheek bone he had the mark of a slave branded, and then branded around that was a symbol for having been freed.

    He said, "I’ve been branded twice in my life. If you boys fight right,

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