Kernow

Kernow

By Andrew K Harvey





Chapter 1          

Sunlight glinted through the trees above me and the scent of apple blossoms hung in the air. Children were screaming; screaming and running, and I was running with them. Something, some… thing was chasing us. I glanced over my shoulder and saw it; a monstrous beast, all claws and fangs, matted hair and glowing eyes. I darted this way and that, dodging between the trees seeking safety. I ducked behind a large oak tree, keeping its bulk between the creature and me. I could see the fort and the open gateway just a hundred yards away. The monster snarled as it approached the tree. It watched me, weighing me up. It hesitated for a moment then roared and sidestepped round the tree. I waited for a fraction of a second and then I dodged round the other side and ran. I hurtled through the grass toward the gateway and safety. Behind me, I could hear the monster coming. I picked up my skirts and ran for my life. I was so close, so close. I could see my younger brother Arun and the rest of the children, inside the fort, shouting at me. “Come on Fionn, come on, you can make it!” and for a moment there, I thought I could. Then I felt a weight slam into me and down I went. I shrieked as the beast started to maul me.
“No, stop it, stop it.”
The monster stopped.
“Really?” it said.
I caught my breath.
“Yes.”
“As you wish,” said the monster. The monster stood up and shed the bearskin it was wearing and bowed to me. It was Connor, my Uncle. He was grinning. Uncle Connor was tall, good looking, with a well-trimmed beard and sparkling blue eyes that could turn ice cold in an instant, if you angered him. I never angered him, I was his favourite niece, his only niece, I was special.
He helped me to my feet and I curtseyed awkwardly.
“Oh Connor” I sighed, “you really are the best monster ever, and the best Uncle of course.”
Connor puffed his chest proudly.
“Thank you Fionn.”
I smiled at him innocently.
“You do know I let you catch me don’t you?”
“Is that right?” he said.
He appeared to think for a moment, and then, whirling the bearskin around himself, he grabbed me and threw me to the ground, tickling me. I screamed and laughed, and laughed and screamed until the tears ran down my face.
There was a shout.          
“When you two have quite finished!”
Connor released me and looked up. Marrach, our clan champion stood over us laughing. He was much shorter than Connor, and built like a barrel. He had a long red moustache and a beard that stuck out at right angles; it made him look like an angry hedgehog.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said.
“Is something amiss?” asked Connor, suddenly concerned.
Marrach waved his hand.
“No, no, no, I have a present for Fionn.”
I squealed with delight.
“For me, really?”
“Is it not May 5th? Is it not your birthday? It is not often that a lady of such high renown turns 13. Especially not when she only happens to be the eldest daughter of my Lord Morgan ap Cormac, Lord of Clan Cormac, Steward of the great Kingdom of Kernow and therefore, a real live princess.”
I blushed.
“Oh Marrach, you’re so silly. So what is it, tell me, tell me?”
He dug into his pouch.
“Close your eyes” he told me mock sternly, “and put out your hands.”
I did so, I felt something sharp, and metallic placed into my hands. I opened my eyes and there was a broach in the shape of a bird, made of silver and inlaid with lapis lazuli. I gasped with delight and hugged Marrach to me.
“Oh thank you Marrach it’s beautiful.”
I pinned it to my shift.
“Come on we better get back, don’t want to miss your own celebration do you?” asked Uncle Connor.
We walked back to the fort. As we entered the fort, we could hear papa and Father Gualaidhe arguing.  Mama was with them. She saw us, smiled and gave me a look that said ‘they are at it again!’ 
“We need more priests,” shouted Father Gualaidhe, “not a bigger chapel.”
Papa had knocked the old wooden chapel down and built a bigger stone one. It had cost a lot of money. Papa folded his arms and gave Father Gualaidhe an amused look.
“We have no need for more priests. Those who want to come to chapel may come, and those that don’t, need not. I will not force the people to follow my religion. God will still be glorified by the work we do here. Besides” he added slyly, “aren’t you always berating the bishops in their palaces, saying how worldly they are, how they love their titles more than God? Surely, if we added more priests wouldn’t that, make you a bishop? We wouldn’t want to inflict that burden upon you Father.”
Gualaidhe harrumphed and started to stride away. He spotted us however and changed direction, marching straight towards us. Marrach tried to hide behind me, no mean feat for a man of his girth. Gualaidhe smiled as he approached me. He nodded to Connor, and Connor nodded in return.
“Ah Fionn, how is my little protégé?”  He said patting my head.
“Very well thank you Father” I replied and curtseyed.
“Are you enjoying your birthday?”
“I am thank you Father.”
“Have you read the Gospel of St Thomas yet?”
“Almost.”
“Good girl,” he looked at me and sighed, “if only you were a boy. You could enter holy orders. You’d make a fine priest hear me, a fine priest.”
He then turned his beady eye onto Marrach, who was attempting to make himself as small as possible.
“And where were you on Sunday?”
Marrach cocked his head and assumed a rather unconvincing pious demeanour. Uncle Connor grinned at Marrach’s discomfort.
“I was not well holy Father,” he said rubbing his stomach.
“Not well, not well is it?”  Gualaidhe sniffed, “drunk more like it. You are a drunkard and a scoundrel Marrach. Say 20 Our Fathers and make sure you’re there this Sunday, or there will be hell to pay.”
Gualaidhe strode off, his black cloak billowing around him.
Connor slapped Marrach on the back, laughing. Marrach wiped his forehead.
“I don’t know how your father does it. He’s a far braver man than I to speak to the Holy Father like that. I would rather fight a pack of ravening wolves with a spoon than upset Gualaidhe. He’s a terror.”
We all laughed. Mama and Papa came over and kissed me. Connor bowed to mama.
“My Lady Elena,” he said.
“My lord,” she said with a nod. She turned to me as Connor and papa slapped each other on the shoulders.
“So how’s our birthday girl?” she asked.
“I’m fine, look what Marrach gave me,” I said showing them Marrach’s gift.
“It is beautiful Fionn,” said Mama. She nodded to Marrach, “Thank you for remembering Fionn on her birthday. It is a lovely gift. I am sure Fionn thanks you as well.” 
“I’ve already thanked him Mama!” I said with a big sigh.
Papa examined my present.
“Is this Roman?” he asked.
Marrach shrugged.
“It was something I picked up north, in Virconium, before I escorted your mother to Kernow.”
“A lifetime ago it seems,” laughed Mama.
“It was 15 summers ago Elena,” Papa said.
“Like I said, a lifetime ago,” she said poking him in the chest.
“And still just as beautiful.”
I had never been to the old country; I had never seen the wonders of Roman civilisation.  The Romans had left in the year 414 when Grandpa Cormac had been a young boy. I knew very little about the Romans and cared less, but Urien our Eachlach or Speaker had been to Isca Dumnonium, the city of the Dumnonians, the city of our tribe, on several occasions. It was almost a week’s walk to the west, so he was one of the very few who had travelled that far. Later that night I showed Urien Marrach’s gift.
“Yes, yes this is Roman indeed, but a mere bauble, a bagatelle. The Romans were builders, architects, engineers. They have wonders you would not believe.” He told me through cracked teeth, his one good eye shining excitedly, “There was bathhouse, a forum, a basilica and a great church, with a bishop.”
I did not have the faintest idea what a forum or a basilica was, but they sounded impressive. His eldest son Rhys nodded enthusiastically, but his younger twin sons Dermot and Fergus lolled against the wall looking bored. They obviously did not share his enthusiasm for all things Roman.
Neither did Marrach.
“A bagatelle indeed? Ha,” he snorted, “the Romans have long gone. They came; they left, we remain. What good did all their stone buildings ever do them?”
Urien waved his hand dismissively in Marrach direction.
“Marrach you maybe our Champion and undoubtedly the best fighter in the clan but your knowledge of such matters is…limited. You should stick to what you know about. Killing and…err…drinking.”
Marrach jumped up his red beard bristling, it seemed to stick out even more than normal; he thumped the butt of his spear onto the floor, making the ground shake.
“And where would you be without my battle skills? Ruled by the accursed Moran or raided by the barbarian Anraw, that’s where.”
Urien ignored him; he casually picked some meat off a bone and threw it to the dogs. Marrach glared at him in silent fury. I tugged at Marrach’s cloak.
“Be careful,” I whispered to him, “you don’t want to break your spear.”
Marrach sat back down, still glaring at Urien. He turned to me, and leant in conspiratorially.
“Don’t worry lass; it would take a great deal more than that to break the mighty Black Spear of Culraith.”
He picked up a mug of mead and gazed into it reflectively. I knew what was coming next and smiled to myself.
“By the way did I ever tell you about the time the holy Saint Columb himself, blessed my spear.”
I sighed exaggeratedly.
“Yes Marrach, you have.”
“Oh, well, what about the time I killed the evil Irish king who foolishly challenged me to single combat?”
“Yes Marrach, you’ve told me that one as well.”
“Well, what about how I found the Black Spear?”
I smiled; I liked this one. I loved all Marrach’s stories and I’d heard them all a hundred times, but I liked to pretend I hadn’t.
“No, no you haven’t. Tell me, tell me that one.”
“Ah well then you’re in for a treat.”
He smoothed his beard down and leant back, so everyone could hear.
“I had been walking along the south beach one day, when I heard a terrible roar coming from behind a great boulder, so loud it made the very earth shake. I thought to myself, Now what manner of beast could make such a sound? So I crept round the boulder and do you know what I saw?”
“A giant? Was it a giant?” I asked excitedly.
“By the gods you have it. It was indeed a giant, big as 10 houses he was. Fearsome sight, lesser men would have run, but not me. I run from nothing. He was sat on a rock picking his teeth, with what I assumed was a tree branch of some sort. So, I hefted my spear and challenged the monster.
‘Who are you and by what right do you enter our land?’
It roared. ‘I am Magog the Giant and I eat any who challenge me. Who are you, who dares speak to me oh tiny one?’
So, I replied.
‘I am Marrach, champion of my clan, hero of Kernow, blessed of Saint Columb, slayer of the King of Ireland.’
‘Are you really?’ it said to me, ‘and I am hungry Marrach of Kernow and although you are very tiny you will do as a tasty little snack.’ It roared and hurled its toothpick at me. I dodged and the toothpick missed and hit a rock behind me, but instead of breaking into a thousand pieces, it stuck into the rock. I now saw that it was no toothpick but a spear; a spear as black as night, and harder than stone. I had no time to consider this mystery because the giant came charging right at me, swinging its club, biggest club I ever saw, big as 5 trees.  Lesser men would have turned and run.”
He jerked his head in the direction of Urien, and I giggled.
“But not me.  He swung but I ducked under his blow and ran between his legs. I stab at him with my own spear, but it just snaps on the beasts skin. He swings at me again and knocks me flying, smashing my shield. I’m lying stunned on the shore, weapon less, defenceless, all hope has gone. Then I thinks about the black spear, and how it got stuck in the rock. The giant comes in to finish me off, but I jump up and run between his legs. He roars and tries to grab me, but I’m to fast. I get to the rock with the spear in it and I pray.
“Holy Saints give me the strength, the power to withdraw this weapon.”
I close my eyes and pull, there is a mighty crack and I stumble back. I’m half expecting to see the spear broke in half, but it is the rock that broke. I have the spear in my hands, the head gleaming like fire. Before I can think the giant swings at me, I catch the blow on the haft and his club splinters into 10 pieces, you can see the ten trees down at Giant’s Point. Now I spear him in the hamstrings, he roars in pain, staggers a bit, wobbles a bit and then crash, down he comes! But he was still thrashing around, so I jump up onto him and run along his chest until I get to his head, and I stab him in his eye. He only got the one by the way. Like certain other people we know.”
I giggled again.
“He lets out another mighty roar and thrashes even worse but I keep stabbing until finally, he groans, shudders and is still; stone cold dead. And that is how I got the Black Spear of Culraith.”
I heard Father Gualaidhe laugh humourlessly.
“I know how you got that spear of yours, and it wasn’t by killing some mythical giant. You won it in a game of dice. You are an ignoramus Marrach, a liar and a fool, you speak but all I hear is the rushing of the wind, the pounding of the waves. There is no knowledge within your head, I declare, no none at all. Giants, pah, stuff and nonsense. If you ever fought a giant I will eat my vestments.”
“You dare call me a liar?” Marrach roared, jumping up, his beard bristling.
Father Gualaidhe’s bushy eyebrows shot up. 
“Don’t answer that,” my mother said standing up. “It is Fionn’s birthday and we don’t want another of your silly challenges.”   
Gualaidhe continued anyway. “Yes, a liar and a scoundrel.”
“A challenge then is it?” demanded Marrach, seemingly furious. He winked at me, picked up his drinking bowl, saluted Gualaidhe and promptly swallowed the entire contents. He slowly turned the cup over and smashed it to the floor. A cheer went up from the men. Marrach’s smile broadened.
My mother fell to her seat with a heavy sigh, “Men!”
“Scared?” he said giving Gualaidhe a long look.
Gualaidhe strode over to where Marrach was standing, towering over him. He glared down at Marrach.
“Heathen, unbelieving fool; I will show you the power of the Holy Spirit!”
He too grabbed a cup, drank the entire contents, and smashed it onto the ground. Everyone cheered, the challenge was accepted, and now the others began to lay their bets.
I remember Father egging on Marrach. Mother and Connor shouted encouragement to Gualaidhe. The competition seemed to last forever but after many cups, Marrach and Gualaidhe were still sitting facing each other. Marrach picked up another cup and slowly drained it. He smiled but his eyes glazed over and he began to slide off his stool. The men started cheering and clapping Gualaidhe on the back, thinking he had won, but Marrach held up his hand and turned his cup over. We turned to Father Gualaidhe who was sitting bolt upright on his bench. He reached out and picked up another cup, slowly brought it to his lips and drained it. He smiled at Marrach exultantly, then shot to his feet, shouted, “If it pleases you my Lord, let this cup pass my lips” and then toppled over, flat onto his back. The cheering was deafening. Papa clapped and threw a gold torque to Marrach. Marrach bowed and put it triumphantly around his neck. He then picked up Gualaidhe and said, “Perhaps I should take the Holy Father home, he appears to have had a few too many.”
“Perhaps you should,” Papa laughed.