by Sam Taw
There was a continuous flutter of panic nestling in my chest for the entire day. During the morning we passed through sheltered woodland, where Renowden was able to stock up on enough game for a few suppers to come and I could stretch my legs and gather more winter stocks of bark, roots and evergreen shoots. I couldn’t help but notice how few homesteaders there were in this part of the Canti lands. It reminded me of the region east of the River Exe where our border lands were continuously raided by the Durotriges. It looked to me that the Cantii neighbours were as unforgiving as ours.
We passed from the relative warmth of the forest to the wide expanses of the lowlands beyond. Here the wind almost cut us in two, it was so cold. Maleek wrapped himself in more layers of soft materials, while Renowden and Cade used their bedding furs to keep out the cold. Jago clung to me tightly, sharing body heat with the pony and gritting our teeth against the biting breeze.
Cade stopped at a thicket of brushwood and low shrubs and tethered his pony. At first, we all thought he meant to relieve himself in the sheltered dell, but he called to Tallack to lend him a hand. I turned my horse around to see what the fuss was about. As we drew closer, I could see Cade scraping at the dirt with a sturdy stick. “What are you doing, lad?” I grinned. “You been supping ale as you ride?”
He laughed at my assumption. “You’re not the only shrewd gatherer, Fur Benyn. I know for a fact that there are wild parsnips at this site. I saw them growing with my own eyes. If we’re lucky, there’ll still be a few that are waiting to sprout come spring.”
At this minor revelation, I jumped down from my horse and knelt in the filth to help him. With a sharp rock to protect my fingers, I dug and shovelled and scraped alongside Cade and Tallack, until the long white tubers came into view. Such a fine thing to see in such a bleak place. My mouth was watering at the thought of eating the sweet roots roasted and sprinkled with a little wild thyme.
I stashed a number of the parsnips in my kit bag and we set off again for the wide river at the northern border. Eager to make camp, we picked up the pace and encouraged our foreign travelling companions to hurry along after us. This would be a feast to remember. Roasted rabbit and pheasants with sweet parsnips, what could be better?
It was dark when we reached the shore of the big river. Cade chose the spot, making certain that we were well within the Canti borderlands.
“You know those parsnips would be even better roasted with some of the Prince’s honey.” He said, jutting his chin over towards the Suliaman’s men building their fire. He knew that my small jar that Suliaman had gifted to me on the boat was all gone.
“You think we should share our find with them? Make peace like Maleek tried to do?” Tallack said with a hopeful frown distorting his forehead.
“It can’t hurt to make amends, and we have plenty of food.” I said, caving in to his pitiful look. He really did care for the man. That was when I realised that this was so much more than a fling with an alluring foreigner. Both men shared something beyond mere physical pleasure. Despite my misgivings, I suggested that they should invite the Prince and Maleek to share in our bounty.
“Actually, Aunt Mel, I think it would sound better coming from you. Particularly if what Jago said is true and he believes that your name links you in some way to their god.”
I could see his reasoning and it made sense, but I was reluctant to go and negotiate with the Prince. His display of force had shaken me. It replayed in my mind every time I tried to sleep. Even though I guessed that he required my healing skills, I had withheld my services out of fear. Now I had to swallow my fright and pride to make peace.
Jago scuttled along behind me as we approached their fire. Maleek jumped up from his seat and allowed me to sit in his place next to his father. It was obvious that he favoured a resolution between us and was prepared to do anything to make that happen.
Jago stood at my side, his head bowed to the floor ready to speak my words to Suliaman.
“May I start by apologising for any offence my nephew may have given over your religious ceremony. It was never intended as such.” I paused, giving my slave time to convert my words into their tongue. When he was finished speaking, the old man nodded curtly with closed eyes. I took this to mean that he’d accepted the apology.
I continued, even though my guts were churning inside. “Our different customs have brought about this misunderstanding. We will not touch the idol or any offerings made to it. Of that you have my word.”
Another bout of translation and another nod followed, but still Suliaman’s face did not alter from stern. I tried to gauge his mood but was left wanting. In a last ditch attempt I ended with an invitation.
“We would like to share our supper of roasted rabbit with sweet parsnip roots, if you would like to join us…” I found my shoulders rising into a shrug as I realised that I was wasting my time. Suliaman was no longer conscious.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I leaned closer to the Prince, using the fire light to see his features. The blackest circles inside his eyes were tiny. His skin looked like glistening wax. It was almost as though he had left his body behind. I stood up and put my ear to his mouth. Maleek stopped the guards from slicing off my head at this intrusion. I was relieved to feel a slight breath on my cheek.
“What are you doing?” Maleek asked me, standing up with his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. He didn’t even need Jago’s help to reprimand me.
“Your father’s life is in peril.” I snapped, examining his blue lips and fingers. This was not new to me. I had seen the priests of our tribe in a similar state. “When did you last give him poppy resin?”
Maleek was thrown. He paced and muttered to himself, but he understood what I had told him.
“When?” I shouted at him, but as I said it, the Prince slid down his tall chair and crumpled to the ground. Jago and I grabbed hold of his limbs, pulling him back into a sitting position and holding him there.
Maleek ranted slipping back into his mother tongue. How could he comprehend me in one moment and then not able to speak our words in the next? This realisation made me exceedingly uncomfortable, but I had to deal with the Prince before all else.
Jago put me straight. “He says that his father complained about a deep pain radiating throughout his body. He demanded resin to dull his nerves.”
“You gave him too much. He is close to death right now. I’m surprised that he can still breathe.” I tried not to let the panic in my voice turn into a screech but so much rested on the old man surviving. It would be just our luck for him to die at the hands of his own son’s incompetence.
Maleek’s arms flew about him as he trotted out a series of instructions to the guards and servants. They in turn batted me out of the way, thinking they were helping their Prince by picking him up and laying him on a bed of rushes.
“No… that’s not a good idea. He can hardly breathe. Sit him upright… make sure that he can get the air down him.” I tried to fight them, but they would not allow me to help. They sent me back to my side of the camp with Jago in tow.
Tallack greeted me with calm indignation, having watched the entire performance with Cade and Renowden. “That went well, Aunt.” One brow rose in time with the sneer spreading across his face.
“How was I to know that those idiotic kyjyans had given him enough resin to fell an auroch bull?” I launched myself down onto my furs and sulked until the rabbits had finished roasting.
Over the course of the evening, we all sat and waited for news about the Prince and whether he had recovered his wits or fallen foul of his son’s kindness. I mused over the event, wondering if these foreigners knew more about our ways than they were letting on, and if so, why keep it a secret?
With a chill wind blowing in off the great river, none of us slept well. In the early hours, long before dawn, I heard a mournful cry. At first, I thought that it was Maleek in despair having lost his father. We jumped up and out of our furs and raced over to their side of the camp.
It was the Prince. He’d made it through the worst of the poppy fugue and the pain had returned to overwhelm his senses.
Whoever thought up this curse is wicked indeed. When the old man saw me lurking near to his bedside, he called out to me for assistance. How could I help when I knew so little of the progression of his ailments? Poppy poisoning aside, his symptoms puzzled me to distraction. He had pale sores along his arms, but those he could not feel. As for the skin surrounding them, Suliaman complained of a burning sensation.
I sent Jago for my medicine kit and asked Maleek to bring me cool water. When my slave returned, I told him to instruct the warriors to carry the Prince to the back of the wagon and make up a bed for him above ground. It may be away from the fire, but the damp earth was enough to set off the nerves of a strong man. I climbed up into the cart beside him.
Jago found my softest woollen cloth and dipped it into the cold water. This alone wiped gently over the Prince’s face seem to soothe him. With my smallest blade from my knife roll, I stripped a fresh piece of willow and mimed chewing so that Suliaman would understand my meaning. There I stayed until mid-morning, humming a quiet tune and bathing his face until he stopped thrashing about and found sanctuary in sleep.
Jago ran backwards and forwards between Maleek, Tallack and me, updating everyone on the state of the Prince’s health. It was apparent to all that we were stuck at the river side until the Prince was well enough to travel.
Cade rode off upstream to the boundary markers between the land of his people and that of their most feared rivals. No decision had been made as to whether we would abandon our horses and the wagon in favour of boats across the river, or whether to venture into the Regnenses land to find a crossing that could bear such a load. Either way, our position so close to the border made us vulnerable. Tallack explained this to Maleek, who in turn stationed his warriors as look outs at high spots further outside our camp. At least we would have warning if we were under attack.
Renowden kept busy hunting, gathering and salting meat in preparation for leaner times ahead. Tallack and Maleek sat and enjoyed far too much ale and the dwindling stocks of Frynkish wine. I only left the Prince’s side to empty my bladder or stretch my legs. He seemed to whimper when he could not sense me close by, or if I stopped humming a tune to let him know that I was there to help him.
All the rancour and disharmony of the last couple of days vanished. We were one travelling party once more, with a restored level of trust. At least on their part, for I could not wipe the sight of Suliaman’s warriors poised to chop off my nephew’s head for touching a sacrificed badger. As far as I was concerned, they would never have my trust again.
At length, the Prince recovered from his brush with death. He found some relief in the willow bark, which was tough on his stomach but less dangerous than the resin. When he was able to sit up and talk, he reached down to pull the covers off his legs. Twisting his knees, he showed me the soles of his bare feet. Each one was covered in large weeping ulcers that ate into his flesh. Was it any wonder why he begged for the resin? One of those deep wounds looked to have started to rot.
With a wretched look plastered across his face, he gestured towards his feet asking me for help. I called to Jago. This would need cautious handling.
“Tell him that I will need to cut, or burn out the rotting flesh before applying my plantain paste to the affected areas. Tell him that it will hurt like every god in the world were aiming their vengeance at him all at once.”
My slave did his best to translate my warning to the old man. To my astonishment he nodded and signalled for me to begin. I offered him more willow to chew, but he declined. I wiped my sharpest blades with a little of Maleek’s wine, since I had no sour apple juice with which to clean them. “Tell him to brace himself.” I growled to Jago. Holding his foot steady, expecting him to recoil, I started slicing away the black rot.
Shockingly, the Prince neither moved nor wailed in agony. I stopped, glancing up at him to confirm that he had not passed out with the pain. He sat fully upright, watching me conduct my work. He must have seen the look on my face for he told Jago to tell me, that he no longer felt anything in his feet. This was the main reason why his warriors carried him everywhere. He could stand for a short time, but he was too unsteady to walk any distance.
The spreading numbness allowed me to cut out all of the dead flesh, but it bled a vast amount. Since he felt no pain, I could staunch the leakage by singeing the vessels closed after heating my knives in the fire embers. It was just as well that I only had Jago inside the cart to assist me. I’d hate to think what his warriors would have done, seeing me taking a hot knife to their master.
The Prince took a little ale and some rabbit broth around mid-afternoon. Cade returned soon after that with news about the crossing. His elation stemmed from a speedy canter along the riverbank for most of the morning. He said that there were no signs of any Regnenses clans at all, not even old campsites or homesteads. His decision was based on the assumption that they often overwintered on the south coast, where fish were plentiful and the weather was kind.
I was less certain of his assessment. Tribes as large as the Regnenses had clans scattered right across the region. They were well known for their nomadic life and for ridiculing those who liked to settle. Midsummer gatherings at Stonehenge allowed me to capture a taste of each culture, and those from the Regnenses were not to my liking. Their tolerance of us Dumnonii, was on account of our tin supplies. We forged an uneasy trade alliance with them, but they despised all Cantii and our association with them.
Tallack seemed to be enthralled with the idea of keeping our horses instead of having to trade a significant amount of our tin and copper for new ones on the other side of the great river.
“I think we should tell the Prince that we need some of his tribute metals to pay for new horses and commission a couple of boats across the river from here.” I ventured, knowing full well that my opinion counted little with Cade.
“We can make a saving by going around. One or two days at best.” Cade insisted.
“The shorter the distance the Prince travels the better. He is still very weak, and a couple of extra days might finish him off. Tallack, say you agree with me.” I peered up at my nephew with my most imploring look, but it failed. He sided with Cade, choosing to save as much of the trade goods as possible. His argument was valid in a frugal sense, since we had no idea how many tributes would be needed to pass through the remaining tribal regions.
With a heavy heart, I packed up my things from the cart and let Jago explain the plan to Maleek and the Prince. Night was almost upon us once again, leaving us at the mercy of damp riverbanks and a surging mist rolling up the estuary to blanket us in cold vapours.
Another supper of fish served both us and the Prince’s men that evening, although our supplies of fire wood ran low and it was too foggy to search for more. To keep warm, we all huddled together around the low embers, taking it in turns to sleep. I got little rest that night. The idea that we would take a slow ride for as many as two full days to a crossing which may or may not exist through enemy territory kept me awake.
Maleek continued to sacrifice creatures to the grinning statue on his father’s instructions to make up for the lost night of his poppy overdose. When I did finally get to sleep, that contorted idol haunted my dreams. Perhaps the Prince’s curse had spread to the rest of us for helping him.
In the morning, we were all exhausted and chilled to the bone. Our fire had turned into cold ashes with no hope of revival. The Prince was carried down to the river to wash, while we chewed on salted meat and sipped our ale. There was no point complaining. The whole enterprise was my idea from the start. I had no option but to grin like that statue and bear whatever the gods threw at us in return.
We set off at a brisk pace, along a well-trodden track at the side of the river heading west. Maleek and Tallack rode alongside each other, oblivious to all else around them. Under any other circumstances,
I would be happy for him, but I needed the ruthless Metern of the Dumnonii to be on his mettle. With him in a love sick haze, we were more vulnerable than ever.
I kicked my horse’s flanks to speed up to Cade at the front of the group. “I thought you said that there were no signs of life this far north on Regnenses lands.”
“I did. Can you see any campsites or homesteads? Have you seen hoof marks in the mud?”
I hadn’t, but the track we rode along was bare of grasses and plants. If it was as truly deserted as he claimed, why hadn’t the grass grown back?
The mist receded around noon, giving us a clear view across the width of the river, its choppy waves washed into the shallow banks with the tide. Cade underestimated the conditions of the track. His light-footed pony might be able to dodge the worst of the boggy ground but not a whole group of us. With a cart full of provisions, treasures and the Prince, plus the heavy steeds to pull it, we were barely covering any ground at all.
“How far is this crossing you speak of? Have you used it before?” I asked Cade, whose initial hope had begun to wane.
“Our friends on the other side of the river told me about it. Their region is vast and they patrol the northern bank daily. It should be no more than a day’s ride, but at this pace it’ll be more like two.” His furtive glances made me wonder if he was making the whole thing up, but then I couldn’t see what he would have to gain by lying to us.
Maleek sent a few of his guards ahead to scout the fastest route and choose the best spots to make camp. He too looked anxious about our trespass on rival tribal lands. The rest of his men surrounded the Prince as he lay inside the wagon with a plentiful supply of willow bark and salted meats.