Nothing ever seemed to get quite done, and yet they were satisfied with the half-doing, and happiest in some reckless venture that promised fresh bruises and cuts. Their children were even wilder, running half naked while they invented mischief that drew only the mildest reprimand. Only in their animals did the Celts expect discipline, the dogs kept in order with the kick of a boot and the horses ridden so constantly and hard that they melded through thigh and fist and heel into the mind of their riders. They galloped across the rough and wooded country with reckless abandon, whooping like loons.
When the barbarians met the Petriana cavalry, the Romans would certainly have the edge in any battle, Valeria guessed. But the chase after victory, when the Celts fled, would be like trying to catch the wind.
Their way to the hunt was cross-country and rambling, seemingly as aimless as an exploring dog. Arden chose this ridge for its fine view and that hollow for its sweet spring, his course a total antithesis to the practical straightness of a Roman road. The air warmed as the sun rose higher, each breath rich with the scent of heather, and there was a brilliance in the low light of the north that seemed to pick out every hue of blossom and every sparkle in rock. The air made you drunk. Valeria felt strangely alive with these people. Their enthusiasms made her heart beat faster.
"I'm surprised the clan can spare so many to go on a mere hunt, she said somewhat breathlessly to Brisa as they cantered along. "How does the work get done?"
"This is the work, Roman. This Erebus has been terrorizing our livestock and rooting our fields. His kill will feed the clan for three days."
"But so many?"
"It may take this many to slay the boar. He's a huge one, according to Mael."
"So it's dangerous?" She'd heard of boar hunts, of course, but had never known anyone who'd been on one. In Rome all the wild animals she'd seen had been in the arena, where they were swiftly slain for the amusement of the mob.
"That's what makes it fun."
"You can stay to the rear," Asa called back. "The women of the Attacotti will show Rome how it's done." The Celt's antipathy toward Valeria had grown since the Roman had ridden back to Tiranen with Arden.
Bitch, Valeria thought. "I didn't say I was afraid, Asa."
"You will be. And Arden will be too busy, Roman, to look after you this time."
They rode down the slope of a cirque into a narrow defile and then into another forested valley, reining up at the edge of the wood. Mael jumped down and unwrapped a bloody fleece, taken from a sheep that the boar had killed, and gave their quarry's scent to the dogs. "Hunt!" The pack set off in frenzied tumult, baying to the wind, and Arden gave a great cry and led the hunters in pursuit.
So fast and disorienting was the chase through the trees that it was like tumbling down a hill. Valeria's mare kept pace with the others, hooves pounding, but it ran outside her own control, branches flashing wickedly past, the Roman clinging desperately just to keep to her saddle. The men yipped, the Celtic women added a high, wavering warble, eerie and foreboding, and the blur of the chase was like being caught up in an unstoppable wave.
Surely the boar would hear them and flee.
Yet the barbarians hollered as if the animal was waiting for them.
She glanced in wonder at the people riding with her, their faces flushed, their eyes bright, their mouths open, their hair rippling in the wind, and realized they'd become the boar in their own minds. Their thoughts echoed the beast's thoughts, imagining it rousing itself sleepily out of the mud, grunting in perplexity at the approaching thunder, shaking its fat, bristled head at the baying of the dogs, pawing the earth with its sharp hooves, and then trotting tentatively up and down the tunnels of its thicket, wondering who dared disturb its bloated slumber. And somehow the boar heard the human thoughts as the Celts heard his, both taking the measure of the other. Valeria suddenly knew, as certainly as the Celts did, that the animal wouldn't try to escape.
That it was seeking them as they sought it.
They slowed as the ground dipped and the trees became denser. The hounds were bunched at a thicket, howling in confusion, and the party halted so weapons could be readied. Brisa strung her bow and notched an arrow. Asa unsheathed one of her javelins, balancing it lightly in her slim fist. Arden rested the butt of his lance on the ground as if to anchor his horse, his hand near the weapon's head.
Hool leaped down with his stout spear. "It was my cow that was gutted a fortnight ago. Give me first call, Caratacus."
"Don't you want your horse?"
"Horses panic. I trust my own feet, where I can meet the pig eye to eye."
Mael was shouting at the dogs, urging them into the thicket. The animals hesitated a moment, milling like an uncertain mob, and then finally the lead hound charged in, giving the rest enough courage to follow. They were bred to hunt! The pack's frantic barking echoed as they raced down the labyrinth of tunnels, fading with distance and then falling to strange silence for a moment. Then Valeria heard a snort and low grunt, drowned out immediately by renewed furious barking. The dogs had found the boar! There was a yelp, the sound cut short as if a sword had sliced it off, and then a pounding as something huge and heavy ran through the thicket, dogs howling in pursuit. The top of the brambles quaked as the quarry moved, the disturbance coming in a long, rolling wave. Hool tensed, peering down a dark tunnel, and then with unworldly speed something huge and black exploded from the tangle.
It was Erebus! Valeria gasped, and her mare sidestepped in alarm. The monster was far bigger than she'd expected, its shoulder almost waist-high and its upright tusks as long as a man's hand. It seemed all head and shoulder and long shaggy tail, like something hurled from a catapult. There was a curdling human cry of revenge as Hool moved to block it, but the boar was quicker, and wily. Swerving from Hool's lunge and then cutting back faster than her eye could follow, the beast turned under the warrior's spear and plowed into Hool's legs as powerfully as a rolling log. The Celt was butted up and over, flipping a neat somersault, and when he came down his legs were bloody and the boar was careening past Arden's horse, the chieftain cursing as he threw his lance too late. Brisa shot an arrow that also missed, and she swore like a decurion when it whickered uselessly into the brush. Then the animal was gone.
"This way!" The riders were in motion now, pounding after the boar, the surviving dogs pouring out to add to the furious chase. Their quarry was far ahead, saplings rocking from its passage, and then all of them disappeared into the trees.
Valeria, shaken by the animal's ferocious speed, didn't follow. She struggled to get her shuddering mare under control and finally trotted Boudicca over to the stunned Hool, worried that the man was seriously hurt. There was a red gash on one thigh, and the other leg was bent peculiarly, as if broken. He was grimacing.