The Stonehenge

This story is inspired in part by the archaeological discovery in 2010 of the remains of a 15 year old boy found near Stonehenge in southern Britain. The manner of his burial and the objects he was buried with suggest that he was from a wealthy and important family, but what is even more surprising is that archaeologists were able to determine that he was not native to the British Isles, but came from somewhere around the Mediterranean Sea. How and why this young man came to the British Isles is a mystery that will probably never be known.

********************

4,262 years ago (2252BCE):

The pale sunlight shined brightly over the grassy plains. The great sun was hanging low above the western horizon. A flock of birds flew across a blue, cloudless sky, riding upon a rising northeastern wind. The flock passed over the great circle of stones below, quietly except for the sound of their flapping wings.

Sitting amongst the great stone circle was a young woman. She looked up at the birds as they passed overhead, bringing her out of her silent meditation. She listened to the wind as she watched the birds fly towards the horizon, hoping to hear something, anything. She then looked at the silent, giant stones around her, noticing their shadows growing long, telling her that she had been here for almost half a day. She was sitting upon her knees, her legs tucked under her.

Her ancestors had put these Great Stones here many, many lives ago. It was a place of magic and spirits, not only for her people, but for many other people as well. She liked coming to this place when she wanted to be alone, which was often lately. Soon, many clans would make the journey here for the great Harvest Gathering, to give thanks to the spirits for their harvests and to ask the spirits to guide and protect them through the coming season of cold.

The young woman looked down upon the earth, and absently drew random lines in the soft dirt with her finger. She sighed.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the wind shifted with a powerful gust from the south. The young woman was facing west, towards the setting sun. The sudden powerful gust whipped and howled around her, pushing her slightly off balance and she had to place her right hand on the ground for support. She looked to the south, brushing the hair from her face with her left hand.

The wind moaned through the Great Stones, "Druuu-shaaa." She shivered, even though this gust was warmer than the previous chill northeastern wind. She looked south with a searching gaze. For a moment she closed her eyes and tilted her head up, smelling and breathing in the wind.

Within her mind, she spoke, "Spirits of the South, what is it you have come here seeking?"

A second gust blew then, more gently, like a fresh breeze. "Druu-shaa," the wind whispered, this time more softly, as it danced and swirled among the Great Stones.

The young woman opened her light blue eyes and stared south for a great while, trying to connect with this spirit from the south. The howl of a distant wolf brought her from her trance. She looked back to the west and saw the bottom of a reddened sun beginning to touch the horizon.

Reluctantly, she rose and set off towards the southwest at a leisurely, unhurried pace. The wind was growing chill once more, shifting again out of the northeast. She walked through a sea of wavy grass, letting her fingertips brush over the tops of the stalks as she made her way home.

Darkness had fallen when she topped the slight ridge to look upon the village. It consisted of about fifty round wooden and stone huts clustered around a central, rectangular longhouse. She occupied a round-hut near the longhouse with her husband, but as she entered the village she made her way not to it, but to the longhouse, where most of her clan would be gathered.

She entered the welcoming warmth and made her way towards the center, near the hearth fire. She stopped before a large man, with a bushy black beard flecked with grey, seated before the fire. He looked up at the young woman with affection and a warm smile. The young woman bowed her head and kneeled.

"Hello, my father."

"Ah, my Drusha. I have been searching for you, daughter. You shouldn't wander so far from the village after nightfall."

"I do not fear the darkness, my father," Drusha said as she took her place to his right and portions of the communal dinner were passed to her.

"As well you should not. What you must fear are the spirits of darkness."

Her father was chieftain of this clan, and highly respected. Unlike other clan chieftains, he was also a priest. In other clans, the positions of chieftain and priest were held by two separate individuals, but due to the proximity of their village to the Temple of the Great Stones, her father was recognized as its protector and keeper. Priests and chieftains traveled far and wide to confer with her father.

"I received word today from your husband's trading party. They are on the coast, two days journey south from here."

"Oh? Should I be hopeful enough to receive from my husband a necklace of seashells?", Drusha said, with barely hidden contempt for her husband. Her father either missed or ignored her contemptuous tone.

"Perhaps you may hope for something more of value. They have encountered traders from across the sea. Strange men, I am told, unlike any which we have ever seen before."

"What makes such men so strange, father?"

"We will know once we see them for ourselves. They have asked your husband and his men to guide them inland. They should arrive day after tomorrow. We must prepare to receive them, so I need you to not wander far as you did today. I will be leaving alone in the morning for the Great Stones, so that I can speak with the spirits concerning these strange men."

"I understand father."

He placed his hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing. She looked up at him smiling down upon her with fatherly pride. She smiled back rather weakly, then turned her attention back to her food.

Her father studied her for a moment. Like her mother, who had died long ago when Drusha was a child, she was fair and very beautiful with long hair the color of the golden sun. She has lived for eighteen years, and in the springtime had married. It was her marriage that had been troubling her, he knew.

Every spring, all the clans gathered at the Great Stones for ten days to celebrate the Renewal. It is during this time that marriages are celebrated. Drusha was easily the most beautiful and desirable woman of marrying age among all the assembled clans, and that, together with her being the daughter of the most powerful man of the land, had many men wishing to become her husband.

She had never shown an interest in any particular suitor, or in marriage at all for that matter. Her father had chosen her to marry Edan, within their own village. He was a half dozen summers older, and was the best hunter and warrior of their clan. The choice was the most sensible one when viewed through the eyes of a chieftain, whose main concern was tribal politics and clan cohesion.

But, as her father, he also wanted what he felt was best for her, too. She hadn't objected to his choice of her husband, but she showed no joy over it either. Privately, he began to regret his choice throughout the summer, as he watched his daughter's mood and outlook on life begin to darken. Now early autumn and still his daughter's stomach had not begun to grow with child, which was highly irregular for those that marry at the Renewal Celebration.

It was clear to all that the marriage between Edan and Drusha was entirely devoid of mutual love and affection. Drusha, for her part, did what was expected of a wife, if only half-heartedly. She always kept their home up and welcoming for her husband, she cooked his food, tending the home fire, cleaned and prepared his hunting kills, and wove clothing for him.

She received from him little in return. He clearly preferred the company of his fellow warriors and hunters to his wife. He would rather go out on a hunt than share the sleeping furs with her. He was always cold towards her and treated her more like a prize that he had won. The only time he shows any deference towards her is when he would brag to others that his wife is the most beautiful of all others and is the daughter of the most powerful man of the land.

All through this his daughter had never complained, but kept it to herself, although he could see it had taken its toll on her normally vibrant attitude. Lately, she had either kept to herself in her hut while her husband was away or wandering alone in the land around the village. He knew she liked to spend many hours alone at the Great Temple.

He wished he could do something about it, and have asked the spirits for guidance to make his daughter happy and full of life again. But now, there were more pressing things that he must worry about, with the coming of these strange foreigners. He would prepare in the morning for the trek to the Great Temple to confer with the spirits.

Drusha had spent the next two days helping to prepare for their foreign guests. She was dreading the return of her husband, and yet was curious to see who these foreigners were, as were all the other villagers.

On the morning of the day of their expected arrival, two warriors from her husband's group ran ahead to inform the chieftain that Edan and the foreigners were near. The whole village gathered, and soon the travelers were seen cresting the hill from the south. When they were close enough, Drusha saw her husband raise his hand and call out a greeting, to which her father did the same.

Edan walked straight up to her father and bowed to him, not even giving Drusha a glance as she stood next to her father. Nor did she pay attention to him, for her eyes were riveted upon the strange men standing a short distance away. After Edan had spoken a few quiet words to the chieftain, both he and the chieftain walked forward to the strangers, while Drusha and the rest of the village stayed behind and looked on.

The group of travelers numbered eight. All were strange indeed, with skin the color of tanned hides, wearing flowing robes and adorned with strange ornaments. Many of them had bizarre marking on their arms, and the man who appeared to be their leader had some strange black markings around his eyes. One man among the group looked pale skinned like her people, and he seemed to be their translator, for he was relaying the words spoken by her father and their leader.

Drusha's eyes looked upon the strangest man of the small group. His skin was the darkest of them all, almost black in color. No hair grew upon his head, and he had shiny metal ornaments dangling from his ears. His skin had more strange markings then all of them. He wore a scowl upon his face and his eyes were locked upon her father. Drusha stared at this man, unable to look away from him. He was strange, and quite frightening.

After a while, her father turned around and walked into the longhouse, followed by the strangers and her husband and a few of his men. The villagers, still curious, scattered to go about their business, but all stayed as near as possible to the longhouse entrance. Drusha did not, however, and went into her hut.

A couple hours later, as evening was beginning, a warrior approached the entrance to her hut and called out her name without looking inside.

"I am here, Broen," she responded, recognizing which warrior it was by his voice.

"Your father the chieftain sends for you to come to the longhouse."

Inside the longhouse, her father sat in his customary spot before the fire, facing the entrance. Off to his left sat her husband and a few of his warriors and facing her father from across the fire with their backs to the entrance were the foreigners. Two village women were busy about the longhouse preparing for the communal dinner.

Drusha entered quietly and made her way to the right side of her father and sat. Normally a wife would sit next to her husband, but this is a protocol that Drusha had never followed, always taking her place next to her father.

"Ah, greetings my Drusha," her father said proudly, his eyes twinkling.

"Greetings, my father," she responded smiling at him.

"Menthalos, this is my daughter Drusha, wife of my captain Edan."

Their translator spoke, and the leader of the foreigners, named Menthalos, rose, tilted his head slightly forward as he touched his right hand to the center of his forehead. Smiling, he then swept his arm outward in a gesture as he spoke. All his words were unintelligible to Drusha, except for him saying her name.

The translator spoke: "Ra, in his journey across the sky, does not pass over another woman as beautiful as Drusha, wife of Edan."

Drusha smiled and looked down. The conversation between her father and Menthalos continued, via the translator. Menthalos was the man with dark lines drawn around his eyelids, with a mark running out from each corner. He wore ornaments the likes of which she had never seen, including an arm bracelet made of yellow metal in the shape of two intertwined serpents. He wore a strange foot covering of strips of leather exposing his foot and winding midway between his heel and knee.

Drusha learned that these men came from a land very far to the south, called Egypt. It was hard for her to imagine the description Menthalos gave of this land, for she was unfamiliar with many words that even the translator struggled with. She had no idea what a desert was or palm trees. She gathered that Ra was the name of the spirit of the Sun, but she was confused as to who Pepi was, which was mentioned many times. They called him Pharaoh, and was apparently the child of Ra, but she couldn't imagine how the Sun could have a child in the form of a man, and who was also the chieftain of the people of Egypt. Egypt was a land where the sun always shone and it never rained, yet a great river was always abundant with water, and they depended upon this river for all their food. She wasn't clear how a river could provide food to people.

At one point she glanced to the dark colored man, who happened to be sitting across the fire from her. He was looking at her. She quickly turned her head away, but after a moment, her eyes looked again over at him from the corner of her eyes. He was still looking at her, unmoving. She raised her chin up slightly, an imperceptible gesture of defiance and confidence that she did not fear his stare. Barely noticeable, a corner of the dark man's lip curled up. They held each other's gaze for what seemed like an eternity. Drusha was frozen, yet refused to yield her gaze. She was amazed at the contrast between the bright whites of his eyes surrounded by the darkness of his face.

Drusha finally noticed his lip curl up a little more, and she turned away, and he also. Across the room, their exchange was not lost on Edan who was also staring at the dark man. As the dark man turned his gaze away from Drusha, he noticed her husband staring at him. Their gazes in turn held each others, before the dark man turned away and shifted his sitting position.

Drusha looked at her husband, taking note that he was sizing up the dark man, and smiled inwardly. Despite her husband being the strong warrior he was, she thought she detected a little fear mixed with his possessiveness in his expression.

Soon the dinner feast was prepared, and the other villagers were invited in by the chieftain. Everyone took their places as food was passed around, but the villagers eyes remained fixed upon their foreign guests.

Conversation resumed between her father and Menthalos, including the reason why they had come so far from their homeland. Menthalos replied that he had been commissioned by his chieftain Pharaoh Pepi to explore far lands and establish trade contacts. Many questions were asked of her father concerning geography of the land and of his knowledge of the clans of the land.

"If it is trade with our people you are interested in, then the spirits had led you here at the right time, Menthalos," said her father, "The harvest moon is near, and soon all clans throughout the land will make their way to the Great Temple for the Harvest Celebration. Instead of you going to seek out trade and knowledge from all the clans, they will come here to you."

Menthalos began asking about the Great Temple, to which her father invited him and his men to visit it tomorrow.

Drusha asked her father if she might accompany him, and he agreed. She turned to look at the dark man briefly, saw him watching her once again. When she looked over at her husband he gave her a disapproving frown. Drusha disregarded him by turning away, and this time, gave him the defiant lift of her chin and turned her concentration to her food.

The dark man, observing this silent interaction between the woman and her husband, smiled to himself and turned his attention to his food.

The next day, the chieftain led a small entourage to the Great Temple. They stayed there until around midday. For Drusha, the talk was uninteresting. While Menthalos didn't seem too impressed with the Stonehenge, he listened politely to her father talk about it. Menthalos then spoke of the stone temples in Egypt, and judging from his descriptions, Stonehenge was tiny by comparison. But Drusha was barely listening.

She tried to watch the dark man as much as she could, whenever she thought no one would notice. She was intrigued by him, and the more she looked at him, the more her curiosity grew. She would become embarrassed if he caught her looking at him, which he did on several occasions, especially because when he did catch her, he would smile at her.

Drusha was annoyed with her husband, who had been determined to stay by her side throughout this excursion, and it distracted her attention from being able to watch the dark man more. She was annoyed because he had hardly ever shown this much attention to her in the past, and although she had sometimes wished for Edan to give her more attention, she now wished he would disappear.

When they had returned to the village, Menthalos asked her father if they could stay here until after the Harvest Celebration. Her father welcomed him to do so. Menthalos and his men then set up tents next to the village.

Over the next two weeks, the foreigners and villagers interacted amicably, trading knowledge of different cultures and different ways, in as much as they could from the language barrier. The men of the village invited the foreigners to go out hunting with them on several occasions.

Drusha had maintained her curiosity of the dark man, but had done nothing more than trade glances. She didn't even know his name, and even if they did speak to each other, neither would understand the other's language.

One evening, after the village had finished eating dinner, Drusha was inside her hut, preparing to hand clean her sleeping furs. She grabbed a water jug and ducked through the entrance of her hut to go fetch some water. It was night, and only the flickering light from fires shown within the various huts. After ducking through her entrance, she straightened upright and almost ran right into the dark man standing before her.

She gasped in surprise and froze, looking up at the large man. A nearby fire illuminated one side of his face, while the rest of him blended in to the darkness of the night. His white eyes bore into hers. Her first instinct was to drop the jug and run away, but her whole body was frozen and she could not take her eyes off from his.

His mouth grew into a grin, and he tilted his head down and bowed slightly toward her while placing his fingers in the middle of his forehead. Drusha gulped audibly. His bald, shiny head was inches from her face. He raised up and said quietly, "Droosha."