by Sam Taw
Cade returned to the subject of our ships out beyond the tidal pull to the beach. Tallack had set up a rotating guard, allowing the men to come to shore for food, water and rest before returning for their watch. The delay in making a decision made them restless. The collective wealth on the vessels made them vulnerable too. In returning home to the other end of the long Channel, they would have to navigate strong currents and pass less amicable tribal lands. Without Tallack and old Renowden to guide them, they would be leaderless and prone to infighting.
Tallack spoke quietly to his cousin. He was keen to keep his concerns to themselves.
All I heard was Cade’s response. “Then it’s settled. You will come and be our guests in camp and speak with my father. Send your ships home with the morning tide and if you choose to return after them, we can provide you with horses and provisions.”
I said nothing, but saw my nephew nod his head. We are at least one step closer to completing this enormous task, but the rewards of such a far-reaching alliance could be good for the Cantii as well as our own people. Before bedding down for the night, I mixed more burdock tea and peeled a fresh section of root for the Prince to treat himself. He seemed especially dazed that evening, as though he’d taken enough resin to numb his mind from the cold. His healer stood over him, watching the guards make up a bed of dune grasses and furs by the fire.
Jago slept by my side, afraid that Brea might stab him while he slept. The thought had crossed my mind too, and without Jago to translate for us, she would cast the blame on our visitors, who would be unable to defend themselves in our language.
The morning was another damp and hazy one. The fire had burned down, but was not so low that it couldn’t be revived. How I longed for fresh goat’s milk warmed through with a handful of grains. It would be a long time before I could make porridge on my own hut fire again. Propping myself up on my elbows, I saw that Brea had returned to our camp and slipped beneath Tallack’s furs. He snored a short distance from the fireside, unaware of his bed mate.
The Prince sat in his tall chair, looking surprisingly refreshed. He took a burdock root from a pocket in his robes and held it aloft. “Good.” He said with a faint smile. “Thank.” He placed his palms together in front of his chest, trapping the root between them. Closing his eyes, he bowed to me. It was such a touching moment. I returned the sentiment. We were forging our own bond of trust.
I made my way over to the dunes, thinking about how we could convey this weak man to the main settlement of the Canti Tribe. It was not far, but walking any distance seemed to tire him no end, and his gait was unsteady over rough ground, rendering him liable to further injury. Cade’s horse appeared to be our only hope. With a germ of an idea forming, I headed back towards the fire.
Renowden stood over our sleeping Metern and jogged him with his foot. “Hey, mighty Chieftain. I bring fresh food.” Slung over his shoulder was a number of fat pollack hanging from a length of rope threaded through their gills. Such happy tidings for the early morn. Renowden and Tallack set about cleaning and gutting the fish, while Suliaman’s men pushed the statue out of the fire using sturdy poles and banked it up with more wood.
Cade took his horse to fresh water and returned for his share of the white fish flakes, served hot on a flat rock. He peered up at the grinning sculpture with the extra-long arms. “What’s all this about?” He curled his lip at the sinister object and then looked at me for an answer. I had no explanation for this peculiar item. The guards brushed it down and left it to cool. Its face was almost enough to put me off my food. The position of its right hand appeared to be important.
The Prince caught me examining the statue between mouthfuls. Initially he just smiled. He’d already ascertained how curious I was. After a little while, he pointed to the icon and then mimicked its long-tangled arms with his own, before resting his right hand on the sore on his neck.
Was he trying to tell me that this creepy effigy was supposed to represent him? He pointed again at the statue and then himself. It started to make sense. In his homeland, they believed that they can pass their illnesses and curses onto clay figures of themselves. I grinned at him, nodding my head.
It was a far stretch to think that a man can be made from clay and then be used to cast out demons. My understanding of the object was later confirmed, when a guard came back from the dunes wrestling a large gull. It struggled and pecked at the man, but he would not let it go. With one arm clamped about its body and his hand squeezing tightly around its neck, he handed the creature over to Maleek.
The old man lifted himself from his chair and staggered over to the statue. Helping himself to Maleek’s curved blade, he uttered a series of words in a single tone, closing his eyes as he chanted. We stood in silence, recognising another’s religious rites mid ceremony. His guards and healer clustered around, listening to the incantation in their mother tongue.
I leaned over to Jago. “What are they saying?”
He whispered back. “It’s old magic, Fur Benyn. Better you do not know.”
Maleek raised the flapping creature over the grinning icon, exposing the throat of the white bird to his father. The blade made a squelching noise as it pierced the gullet, spilling blood, raw fish and bile all over the statue. The stench sent me reeling. In the sizzling blood, Suliaman used the tip of the blade to paint a symbol onto its forehead. The heat from the baked clay cooked the gull’s blood, sending it dark brown and crispy. While those of us from Inglond’s shore looked on, the foreigners all knelt in the sand muttering their prayers.
The thing that shocked me the most was Jago’s reaction. He too fell to his knees, holding his eyelids shut with a screwed-up expression across his face. I have seen that look before. The boy was petrified. What had Suliaman brought to life in this eerie statue?
When the Prince had completed his ritual, he ordered his men to their feet and issued new instructions. Two of the guards ran over the dunes and out of sight. Others began packing away all their bedding and provisions. We were getting ready to move. Cade caught up with events and ran off to collect his horse.
Tallack gave his men orders to return to our tribe with the traded copper. “Brea, you will sail with them. Tell Blydh what I have planned to do and that I know he will protect our lands in my absence. This trade alliance is too good an opportunity to miss.”
Brea jutted out a hip and rested her knuckles to her waist. “I’ll do no such thing, and you can’t make me.”
“Brea, we’ve had this argument before. I am the Chieftain now. You will return to Dumnoni lands.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of earshot from the others. I could still catch their words. I may be old but I am not deaf.
“You could be gone for many moons, maybe a whole cycle. Do you expect me to wait for you in the mining settlement?”
“No, of course not…”
“Your mother once told me that they have a holy man in the Canti compound.”
“So?”
“Bind with me tonight, or by the gods I’ll leave you.”
“Kyjya, Brea!” Tallack growled. They stared at each other with the kind of intensity that only lovers can achieve. Hers was tinged with a longing to harness his status and power. His was pure frustration. She was not going to back down. Tallack shook his head. “Do what you want. You will anyway.” He marched away, leaving her with the impression that he’d conceded to her desires. I wasn’t so sure. The first thing he did was to seek out Maleek and offer his help in clearing away their belongings.
She waited for a moment, adjusting her hair and clothing, before picking up her bundle and sitting in the sand to wait for us. Suliaman’s men returned from the direction of the dunes carrying four long, thick hazel poles from the trees further inland. Suliaman sat back in his tall chair. The poles were slid beneath the legs, allowing his guards to hoist him in the air. Using a similar arrangement, the bloodied idol was lifted onto a length of thick fabric and attached to the other two poles. With his remaining guards each
carrying their supplies and treasures, they nodded to Cade to lead the way.
Brea appealed to Cade for his pony, claiming that she was our new tribal Ruvane, and as such, deserved the horse more than any other. His answer was in the form of an action. He gathered up the reins and led his horse over to me.
“Ho there, Fur Benyn. Come on, I’ll give you a bunk up.” Cade interlocked his fingers and bent low so that I could tread in his hands while he lifted me onto his horse.
“That’s really good of you, Cade. Thanks.” I couldn’t contain my grin. Brea seethed, but there was little that she could do or say. Later I saw her ranting at Tallack, but he shrugged her off. With my heavier items slung across the horse and Jago stumbling along beside me, we followed Cade and Tallack in a long procession across the dunes and flat homesteaders’ lands, past woods and copses to a large settlement inhabited by the new Chieftain and his family.
The Cantii have several favoured settlement sites, all within easy distance of the sea. Some are heavily fortified against incursions at the border with the Regnenses Tribe to their west. They, like us, have a similar relationship with periods of tolerance followed by more volatile times. Our abiding friendship was forged during my father’s reign. Since then, our families have maintained firm ties via wedlock. Cryda’s brother is their Chieftain now, following her father’s death.
Cade informed us that the Chieftain’s family were encamped at a large settlement on the Great Stour River. Its winding meanders made it awkward to navigate, thus rendering it useless to hasten travel. There was no other way but to walk to the site, carrying all our belongings without ponies, that is, except for me.
With a few rest stops, we made it to camp just after sunset. The compound walls were high and had an extra barrier of spiked ramparts and ditches. The river flowed beneath their walls and through the centre before dipping under the opposite side. Both causeways were protected with the trunks of young trees stabbed into the riverbed to bar anyone from swimming into the camp.
Their gate watchmen signalled our arrival by blowing a horn from a goat. The gates opened, allowing us entry into a wide grassy space next to a Long Hut. It looked almost the same as ours had, before it was ransacked and burned to the ground. There were raised boardwalks crossing one long thoroughfare that were far wider than ours. In short, they had spent a great deal more time improving their camp conditions than we had. I hoped that it gave Tallack a few ideas for when we returned home to the River Exe.
Cade’s family were there to greet us. The new chieftain, Arundel, stepped forwards to Tallack and touched their foreheads together.
“Uncle. Thank you for receiving us. I was sorry to hear about grandfather. He sits with Cernonnus in the Summerlands, along with my father.” Tallack moved along the row of well-wishers, and stopped at a frail woman, whom I barely recognised, her hair now white, her eyes rheumy and pale. Tallack reached down to her and scooped her up in his arms, squeezing her tightly. “Grandmother.” He kissed the top of her head and lowered her back to her feet.
She gave him a playful smack across his shoulders. “Put me down, you’ll break me.” She meant not a word of her admonishment. Smiling she lay her hand on his chest. No one could dispute his likeness with her departed husband. It both pained and comforted her in equal measure.
I clambered down from Cade’s horse and let Jago unload my things. Clicking the joints in my hips and back, I took a moment to right myself. Brea saw this as her opportunity to make herself heard. She pushed past me and walked straight up to Arundel, reaching out for his arm in greeting. Tallack looked on in horror at her lack of propriety, but there was little he could do to stop her. These formalities may seem unnecessary, but they have helped to maintain order and social structure in tribes for generations.
Arundel was left in an awkward position. He should have welcomed me as the next with Metern blood after Tallack. Being the gracious host, he tamed his look of shock and received her intruding arm against his own with gritted teeth. He said nothing, waiting for her to work her way down the line before me.
Brea moved on to Tallack’s grandmother, Hylda. She puffed out her little chest and frowned at the interloper. She may be frail in body, but she was no weakling.
“I know you. I’ve seen you before at the summer gatherings. You’re that mountain trollop of Aebba’s.” Hylda withdrew her arms and folded them across her chest.
“I am no trollop. I am to be the next Ruvane of the Dumnonii.” Brea practically shouted her retort, ensuring the entire tribe heard her.
“Over my dead body.” Hylda exclaimed, snorting her derision. She turned around on the board walk, and stomped her noble feet across the planks into the Long Hut.
Brea was left high and dry, looking the shameless fool that she is. Tallack grinned at her misstep, and made no attempt to rescue her. I greeted the Chieftain according to time honoured traditions, with a humble smile on my face and bearing a gift of furs and tin, but inside my heart was pounding with fear. Hylda may have predicted her own near future. I know full well what Brea does when she is upset with her social standing.
CHAPTER TWELVE
You can always rely on Tallack to sooth emotions and calm frayed tempers. Aebba did well choosing him to lead his trading voyages. The lad can negotiate just about anything with just about anyone. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he made the proper introductions with all the tribal elders. He paid special attention to Arundel’s new young wife, complimenting her tunic and sewn embellishments.
Tallack’s shrewd ways were not lost on the Chieftain. He sent his son, Cade into the Long Hut to divulge all that he’d learned about our foreign travelling companions to Hylda, while he offered the Prince his hospitality. Jago ran from one group to the next and back again, doing all he could to translate messages of greeting and welcome.
After such a bumpy ride I was keen to stretch my legs, but I knew that the duties of being a guest would entail a long night of feasting and talking. Brea stood idle at the end of the line of elders. Her young years had not prepared her in the ways of a Ruvane. She had no idea what her place was or how to conduct herself. Tallack completed his ceremonial offerings with jewels and a fine beaver pelt for the Chieftain’s wife, before taking Brea by the arm and dragging her to a quiet spot at the side of the Long Hut. I lingered in the doorway, keen to hear what he had to say.
“You have utterly disgraced yourself, Brea. I told you to go home.” He rasped at her, trying to keep the anger from exploding out.
“And I told you that we are to be bound together, regardless of what that nasty old crone says.”
Surely, she had surmised his altered feelings for her? Had her desperation mired her sight to that extent?
“That old crone, is my grandmother. She is from the longest line of Chieftains in the land. You’ll go in and apologise, then pay tribute to her. That bracelet the Prince gave you should suffice.”
Brea looked aghast. She covered the golden bangle with her hand, shielding it from him. “No, I will not. She insulted me. She should be giving me apologies and gifts. Now go and find the holy man, I don’t want to wait for us to wed.”
“You can forget that. I’m more likely to bind myself to that kyjyan statue than you. It’ll never happen. If you’re going to stay, make amends. If not, go, and never return here.”
It was a dangerous ultimatum to give to someone as murderous as Brea. Whatever she decided would not result in a happy outcome for Tallack. I was still in the doorway and at risk of discovery. There were only so many times that I could pretend to adjust my shoe before the Canti elders insisted that the door panel be wedged in the opening to shut out the draught.
It looked to me that Brea had turned on the tears to engender pity, but Tallack would not soften. Perhaps she’d used the ploy too often in the past, for she spun about, flicking her hair into his face and stomped down the boardwalks towards Cade’s pony. “I’ll go, and then you’ll be sorry.” She bawled over her shoulder. Still he
was unmoved. “I’m leaving.” As the door panel rose and blocked out my view, I saw him roll his eyes at her. A moment later, the thundering hooves of a single pony quietened the room. Brea had stolen Cade’s horse.
Flushed and panting, Tallack pushed through the gap in the doorway and approached me. “Good riddance.” He muttered. I could understand his relief even if it meant coughing up enough tin to pay for her theft, but she was dangerous before he slighted her. Only Jago and I knew her true capabilities, and that would always end in sadness or worse.
Cade beckoned me over to sit at his side. It was a great honour for me, since he was the next in line to become Chieftain as the eldest son of Arundel. Their tables and seating arrangements were much the same as ours, but they allowed their guests to outrank those close family members, who were only too happy to move further from the top table for a short duration. To the left of Arundel, sat the Prince and his son, with Jago standing behind them all, doing his best to keep up with the conversation.
As I predicted, the Cantii used this opportunity to extend the alliance we had brokered to include themselves. Arundel spent most of the evening discussing potential goods trades and frequency of trips with the Prince. The details and complexities were left to lowlier members of the tribe.
Hylda tapped Cade on the shoulder and asked him to swap seats, so that she could speak quietly with me. I had a feeling that she would cut to the core of the matter, but I thought she might prefer Tallack’s sweet words over mine.
“Meliora. I am pleased to see you here. Was the journey tolerable?”
A polite start to my grilling, but I played along. “A storm on the crossing to Frynk, but a better return, thank you. You look well. Are you in good health?”
“Must we waste time with petty ailments and wearisome banter?” One brow lifted high on her forehead. She was no older than I, but her bearing and manner seemed more aged than the hills. In truth, she intimidated me a little. Brea was stupid indeed to take on such a formidable woman. This must be from where Cryda gets her stubbornness. I shook my head.