by Sam Taw
Their laughter grew more raucous and humiliating. Hadn’t I already proven my resilience, having survived a near death poisoning and being shoved down a cliff? I rested my balled-up fists on my hips and scowled at each of them. It was the same angry glare I gave them before whacking their behinds when they were small for using my goats as target practice. The laughter stopped.
“It’s too dangerous, Aunt. And anyway, I will need you in the compound when it’s rebuilt to tend to the wounded.” Blydh said, softening his tone. He was humouring me. It was little more than a pity gesture for an old woman past her usefulness.
“You think that it’s too dangerous, boy? I grew up with your grandfather. They didn’t call him Cador the Cruel for nothing. You’ve never known danger like riding with him.” I narrowed my eyes, daring them to challenge me.
“But, Aunt…” Tallack ventured. “You were a young woman back then. We can’t afford to lose you.”
It was a pitiful attempt at flattery, one tinged with an insult. “Just you make sure you leave room on your boat for me and my slave. You won’t even notice we’re there.” I shuffled to the door before they could talk me around. We had to get out of the mining camp before Brea could silence us for good. Cryda was not at any risk in her company, and there were plenty of slaves to do her bidding.
When I got back to our hut, I was giddy with excitement. I’d always yearned to travel, but Aebba had kept me close by to manage his growing list of ailments. The few times when my brother, Cador, had taken me to visit allied tribes, it was to offer me in binding to a tribal leader’s son. I thank the goddess daily that none of those meetings ended with forcing me to wed, but I sometimes wonder what might have been.
Jago was rocking Cryda’s babe in his arms while she slept. He was singing a beautiful tune with lilting words in his birth language. The child grinned up at him, dribbling and making a grab for his nose. It would be a wrench for him to leave the infant, but our safety was my priority. He watched me gather together a few dried bundles of herbs and a few lengths of catgut, along with my knives.
Frowning at me, Jago followed me about the hut. “Has there been another accident in one of the mine tunnels, Fur Benyn?”
“No.”
“But that is a lot of stuff to be packing in your healing kit.” His jolly mood vanished, replaced by anxiety.
“It is. We are sailing with the Chieftain Tallack at first light.” I stopped packing to take in his response. His furrowed brow and open mouth told me that fear was uppermost in his mind. His last voyage with Tallack and his crew, left him with a smashed ankle and half drowned. Sailors in Tallack’s clan are not known for their tolerance or kindness. Jago lost more than his health and freedom, he lost close friends too. I knew it would be difficult for the boy, but it was preferable to the continuous worry of Brea’s lethal actions. “It’ll be different this time, Jago. I promise. For one, I’ll be there to make sure you are treated well.”
He nodded slowly, but I knew that he didn’t believe me. His gaze fell to the child, swaddled and warm against his chest. “Will the Lady Cryda be coming too?” I understood his meaning. He was asking if the child would be on the boat alongside us. It was she he didn’t want to leave, more than the former Ruvane.
I shook my head. “She must stay here, at least until the new compound is built, and even then, it’ll be too dangerous for her and the babe to stay so close to the border. The Duros are uniting their forces and training, ready for attack.” The whites of his eyes doubled in size; such was his shock. “So, you see we must go and trade for copper to make more weapons.”
“They need you to make the trade for the tin?” He was a sharp one. Not much escaped his understanding.
“No, but I can’t restock my herbs at this time of the year. Everything I had at the Exe compound was torched. I can trade for what I need at the Frynk ports, but I’ll need your help. You speak their tongue.” He seemed to accept that as a good enough reason to leave. He took the babe and lay her next to her mother, sighed and began rolling up my tunics and sorting my beakers of ointments.
A part of me knew the apprehensions looming in his mind, another part of me wondered if he saw the trip as an opportunity to make a run for freedom. It was certainly weighing heavily in my thoughts. My primary concern was his safety. His happiness was another matter. Until an opportunity arose to give him all that he wanted, he had to stay close to me. The moment he is no longer under my protection, he would be at the mercy of the likes of Tallack’s crew.
I took out my secret store of tin and handed Jago a reasonable amount. “There’s a trapper up the valley living among the miners. He salts and dries most of what he catches and trades the skins and furs. See if you can barter for everything he has.” He looked shocked at the amount of tin I’d given him, but I didn’t want to be unprepared for our journey, and there was no time to cure our own. As he removed the door panel from the entrance, Cryda awoke.
“Mind you hurry, lad. There’s lots to do before we can sleep this night.” I flicked my hands at him to speed his progress, and then turned to Cryda. We’d grown used to the arrangement of sharing a hut. Having another pair or two of hands to help with caring for the young one suited her needs and it was company for me on the long cold nights. She would need to fend for herself, now that we were leaving camp.
“But you can’t go, Meliora. I have no one else here. Most of Aebba’s slaves ran, were killed or taken during Wenna’s raid and the rest came here with us and have died from the ague. Who will I turn to if my child gets sick?” There were real tears brimming in her lower lids. It was more emotional than I was expecting.
“You’re stronger than you look. You’ll manage. Kenver will keep you supplied with tin, so you can trade for a slave or pay some of his clan for help. You’ll be safer here than near the border anyway. You think the Duros would let you live if they got hold of you?”
She let the tear fall down her cheek and shook her head.
“We can’t keep calling your child, the babe. You must think of a name.” I thought that changing the subject might lighten the mood. It didn’t.
She sobbed and cuffed the sleeve of her tunic beneath her nose. “But no one will be here for the naming ceremony.”
“Then give her a name, but have the ceremony when we are all back together at the new Exe compound.” I tried to comfort her, but she is so tall next to me, the best I could do was to hold her around the waist and squeeze. The sobbing quietened for a moment, then burst forth anew.
“And we still haven’t laid Aebba’s long bones with the rest of his payment to the Summerlands.” For all her golden prettiness, she was a mass of red flesh and running humours, quite a sight.
“Well, he’s waited all this time to gain entry into the land of his forefathers, I don’t suppose he’ll mind waiting a bit longer. You can’t go out to the moors on your own. You haven’t even arranged for the stone to be taken to the tor, let alone gathered enough tribal elders to heave the rocks into place.”
“So, you’ll let him wander the Between Worlds for an entire cycle?” She looked at me as though it was all my fault. I may have inadvertently accused the wrong person for murdering Aebba, but I couldn’t be held responsible for Wenna’s part in the Duro attacks. The twins had to make battle preparations their priority, even if it meant leaving their father in a clay pot until the summer. I said nothing to Cryda. She had a way of twisting the blame to suit her needs. If she had let the elders have their way at the summer gathering, his entire skeleton would be among his ancestors in a long barrow at Stonehenge instead of only his head.
I kept my observations to myself and raked the embers with a stick. Resting my longest blade in the hot coals, I waited until it glowed with heat and then immersed it in a cup of ale. It fizzled and steamed. “Here.” I said to her. “This’ll warm your heart up, make you feel better.”
She took it from me and sniffed. I put the knife back into the embers ready for my own cup. Sitting by the fire,
we regarded each other.
“I shall miss you, Meliora.” She said. The fact of her saying it was shocking since while Aebba lived, she wouldn’t have given me the drippings from her nose, but after a few moons of close quarters and mutual support, we’d grown reliant on one another. Each of us saw a friendship forged through necessity and now driven apart by circumstance.
“Ah, give over.” I grappled her knee and gave it a wiggle. “Won’t be forever. You’ll see. We’ll be back near the Exe, with your boys having chased away the Duros and taken great tracts of their land from them and a few heads as trophies.” Our smiles and momentary cheer faded. A lot can change during battles, lives lost, people taken captive, and there was no way of telling when they might attack.
I slept poorly that night, the evening’s discussions had unsettled me, leaving my temper raw come dawn. Jago shifted in his bedding too, I could hear him rustling and moaning as though his dreams were tormenting him. Our last meal at the camp was of wild boar lard with a little salt, spread on fresh baked flat bread. I made sure that Jago got plenty of the tasty jelly and the largest hunk from the loaf. We’d have to eat on the hoof from now on.
When it was time to leave, Jago struggled to pull himself away from Cryda and the babe. He helped to bring her into the world, and had been her guardian and protector ever since. Her helplessness and cheerful smile dragged him from the extremes of grief after losing his wife. Without her as a distraction, he was in danger of falling back into a black gloom.
Cryda saw Jago’s plight. She had grown fond of the boy and his enthusiasm for her daughter’s care. Holding the child against her breast, she walked with us to the beach, where Tallack and his crew were loading up the boats. We were used to him coming and going whenever he liked, but this time the trip felt more final. Perhaps it was the urgency with which the journey was arranged, or the speedy turnabout required for a trade deal, but Cryda’s tears extended to bidding her sons farewell. As Blydh rode off with his head hunters, Tallack kissed his mother’s cheek before lifting me onto his boat.
Jago couldn’t tear himself away. His pleading and excuses to stay tugged at my heart, but he’d be lucky to live beyond the next full moon without my status in the tribe to protect him. Tallack laughed. His attitude was markedly different towards my slave now that he’d proved himself honourable with Cryda. At any other time, Jago would have needed to wade through the crashing waves and climb aboard himself. This time, Tallack scooped him up like a sack of grain and slung him over his shoulder. A hop and a skip through the shallows later, and he hoisted the boy into the boat next to me.
We stowed our things in the small space at the bow and tucked an oiled cloth over them to keep out the worst of the wet. As soon as we sat down, Jago began shaking. I dare say all the memories of his last encounter with this vessel came flooding back to him. I patted his head with affection, but it did not seem to calm him.
The tide was turning, I could feel it tugging at the ropes, pulling us out to sea, and yet Tallack had not yet boarded. I stood up to see what the delay was, hoping that he was simply taking his time to calm his mother’s fears. The low sun glinted from the water, dazzling my eyes. Against the bright light, I saw his silhouette, standing alone on the beach. All his crew had manned the other boats and had already begun rowing out to catch the current heading east.
“What’s the problem?” I yelled to my nephew. “We’ll get left behind.” I swayed about trying to keep myself upright, hanging on to the side. Tallack neither answered me, nor turned around. I thought that maybe he hadn’t heard me call to him. I tried again, shouting against the force of the wind.
It was then I saw the reason for our delay. Brea walked onto the beach, carrying all her belongings in a large bundle.
CHAPTER FIVE
I could hardly believe what I was seeing. A tiny part of me hoped that she was just delivering Tallack’s things to the boat. In my heart of course I knew that was not the case. She had spent the night convincing him that he needed her on the trip too, or that she couldn’t survive the winter in the mining community without him. Being the soft-hearted sop that I know him to be, Tallack caved in and agreed.
Her presence on board had nothing to do with Brea pining for Tallack. It had everything to do with me and Jago. She had to make sure that we would not tell him about my mistake in a moment of weakness. Like Jago and myself, Tallack carried her and the baggage on board and immediately unbound the sail to catch the wind.
Brea treated me to a smug smile of victory as she took Tallack’s seat near to the stern. At least she was as far from me as she could get on this foreign ship of his. Jago froze when he first caught sight of her, fidgeting as though he was about to stand up and throw himself over board and swim back to shore. I pushed him back down with a heavy hand to his shoulder, muttering, “Stay calm, boy. We’ll look out for each other and all will be well.”
“But, Fur Benyn…”
“Shush.” I growled. “We’ll take it in turns to sleep. She can’t do anything in front of my nephew.” He didn’t appear to be reassured by my words, and to be honest, I found them hard to swallow myself. She was beyond sly. I uttered a few prayers to the goddess to keep us safe. Jago sounded like he was cursing her rather than praying. It’s hard to tell when he reverts to his native language. We stayed as far apart as we could for the first half day of our trip, letting the current and winds take us along the coast to a narrower crossing point.
All the time that we sailed, Tallack watched the breeze fill the sails and noted the distance from shore. He must have made the crossing more than a dozen times, but his crewmen were as apprehensive as he appeared to be. Perhaps all the tall tales and bravado are to mask the fear of making a poor decision, when to steer into a deep wave, or when to alter course avoiding sand banks and storms. I had no idea how he navigated, whether it was catching sight of a landmark or waiting for the first stars, but all our lives rested in the hands of this young Chieftain. I hoped he’d learned well from the elders of the clan.
When it was time to steer towards Frynk, Tallack ordered Brea to sit at the front of the boat next to me and Jago. I could hear her whining and arguing with him, but he would have none of her nonsense. He was Metern of the tribe, and the leader of the sea faring clan. He would not tolerate disobedience at sea.
“Do as I say, Brea, or I’ll dump you in Frynk to live out your days as a foreign slave.”
That seemed to put a hot ember in her leggings. Grumbling and pouting, she struggled over the resting oars and legs of the crew, and slumped down next to me. There was no avoiding conversation no matter how much I tried.
“Meliora.” She muttered through clenched teeth.
“Brea. I did not know that you were joining us.”
“Nor I you until the last moment.” The look she gave me could have scorched a hole in the boat.
I edged further away from her, yanking my furs over mine and Jago’s legs. She could die from the cold for all I cared. There was no way I was going to share my food and water with her after all that she put me through. We sat like that for some time, refusing to exchange civil words or even look in the same direction as one another. Her animosity stemmed from me inconveniencing her by travelling to Frynk with her man.
Until this trip, she was content to strut about camp as though she owned all Dumnoni lands. I suspected that she had planned to work her magic on Blydh in his brother’s absence, since Tallack was taking too long to secure their relationship in a binding ceremony. If she couldn’t force his hand, then Blydh would make a good back up position and still give her the power she craved.
What was it about this Ordo that gave her such lofty aspirations? Derwa’s husband, from what I could make of him, was a kind and gentle soul, who stood next in line to their Chieftain. Derwa would one day become the Ruvane of their tribe and her sons would lead after they were gone. It was the natural order of things since the beginning of time. I can’t say that I blame these young women for wanting more,
for craving the power that comes with the titles, but they also come with huge responsibilities. A tribe is more than a few scattered clans and a bunch of homesteaders. It had a name and a reputation to uphold. Without those qualities, a tribe would be overrun and wiped out by marauding neighbours.
In some respects, young Wenna was the closest woman to being a Metern. True, she was forced to wed the Duros’ chieftain against her will, but she blossomed into a fierce and respected Ruvane warrior in her own right. She instilled loyalty and devotion in her tribe. They would have laid down their lives if she had commanded it of them, that I saw in the short time I was with her at the midsummer gathering. If only she had put aside the animosity from her childhood and forged a true alliance built on the foundations of our shared blood. Her ambition cost her the lives of many from her tribe, and hers too. I will never forget the look of horror on her face when the arrows from her half-brother’s men pierced her heart.
Further away from land, the sea was more than choppy. It rose and fell with such force; it left my stomach in my mouth several times over. Jago looked green as he leaned over the side and emptied his gut into the swell. Brea seemed almost as bad, but she clenched her jaw and held onto her middle with both arms, willing herself to fight against the heaving.
To my surprise, I was able to bear the rolling without sickness, but then my father was a great sailor just like Tallack. While my slave and tormentor retched and moaned, I used the opportunity to stretch my legs. Turning to face the bow, I could see why Tallack’s face had deepened from concentrated frown, to resigned fear. Ahead of us, the black clouds stretched from the horizon to further than I could see. They billowed up in a tall plume and were lit at intervals with spears of lightning. The gods were angry with us and who could blame them. We carried the great Metern murderer among us.
I looked back at Tallack who acknowledged my panic with a nod. The wind picked up and threatened to shred our sails. With a slick manoeuvre, his crewmen downed the cloth and tied it to the mast. Peering across the wide peaks of water, I could just make out the other boats ahead of us. They too followed suit, lashing everything that could be hurled from the craft down with rope.