Pagan Curse (Tribes of Britain Book 2)
Page 15
Few of us had much to say. The danger hung in the air like the stink of offal. When at last we caught up with the scouts, I was exhausted from the worry. Cade insisted that we had no fires, despite the freezing conditions and the need for a hot meal.
Some of the foreign warriors were suffering from chilblains. Without hot water, there was little I could do to help them, but I steeped some crushed mistletoe leaves in a beaker with a little spring water I collected on our way. It really needed a couple of days to stew, but I figured that it wouldn’t require dilution as I would normally do for such a potent plant. I made enough to treat four warriors plus some for the Prince’s ulcerated foot.
Suliaman’s healer was travelling inside the cart with him, having kept a low profile for a number of days. I suspect that it was his mixing of the poppy resin that overdosed the Prince, rather than Maleek’s order to administer the medicine. I fixed him my most lethal stare as I climbed into the rear of the wagon, but he did not seem to notice.
Lifting the furs up from the Prince’s legs, I saw that his healer had wrapped his feet in a thick linen. Since it showed no signs of staining, I assumed that he’d washed off my plantain paste before binding. Against my better judgement, I kept my mouth shut. Suliaman’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, a sure sign that he’d taken more resin. I left the mistletoe tea with the healer, but as soon as I had climbed down from the wagon, he threw it out on the ground.
I have done all that I can to assist him. His health is up to them now. Jago stood and shivered behind Tallack as Maleek prepared another sacrifice to the ugly idol. Animals and birds were thin on the ground as it was, without wasting good food on a clay statue. Tallack handed me some salted pork from his saddlebag. Slim pickings were all we could hope for on the southern bank.
We were encamped in a gully between two rolling hills, within sight of the river. The deep blue of the night sky arched over our heads, showing us all the points of light from the Summerlands. Gazing up, all I could think about was how Aebba would call us foolish for agreeing to this journey. My nephew broke my reflections, covering my back with a fur of his own and standing up to stretch his long legs. I assumed that he was wandering off to make water, but he frowned, peering into the distance.
“Cade, how far are we now from the crossing would you say?” Tallack said, his voice low and shaky.
“Half a day, maybe a little more. Why?” Cade stood too, turning to see what had caught Tallack’s eye.
“There’s smoke in the distance. A clan is encamped nearby.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I scrambled to my feet to confirm my nephew’s words. There on the crest of another hill in the distance, was a thick line of smoke rising into the sky. My first instinct was panic; theirs’ was to freeze on the spot. In absence of any other elder to guide them, I had to swallow down my fear and speak up.
“Could it be where the river winds and that smoke is from across the water?” I asked Cade, who should have had a better knowledge of these lands than any of us.
“I suppose it could be but I doubt it, which means that they aren’t a friendly clan.” He muttered, his eyes fixed on the smoke.
“Do you think that they are camped at the crossing?” Tallack asked.
Cade just shrugged. “I have only been in this territory once before and I was just a small child. I honestly don’t know if that hill is where the bridge is or not.”
“We can’t afford to risk it without further investigation. We won’t be able to escape them if the Prince is with us.” Tallack warned, looking down at his stocky older cousin.
My mouth opened before I could engage my brain. “Then Jago and I will go on ahead. If we meet any rival clans, we have nothing to offer them and no reason to fight. We are no threat, nor any use as slaves.”
The men looked at each other in surprise, but as the reasoning filtered through their minds, they could see that it was a good plan.
“And what if they kill you both and take your horse?” Tallack said.
“Why would they when there are herds of wild horses further inland?” I could see that he liked the idea but didn’t want me to risk my life. “We’ll be fine. As soon as I find the crossing and can see that it is safe for you to approach, I’ll light a big fire and send black smoke into the air.” I touched his arm with affection. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”
There were few options open to us that didn’t involve bloodshed and he couldn’t exactly forbid me from going. I removed all but one small knife from my kit and gave them to Tallack, along with most of my tin. “Keep those safe for me. They’ll never believe that I’m a poor healer with that much metal on me.” I chuckled nervously. What had I let myself in for?
Jago seemed pleased to be away from camp and that grinning statue. He packed some of Renowden’s salted meat and our furs, and climbed on the back of my horse. We rode through the night together in silence, stopping only to rest and water the horse. Before dawn, we neared the source of the smoke.
As Tallack predicted, they were not from the other side of the river. Their horses were painted with clay and woad, with feathers of crow and raven plaited into their manes. These were warriors patrolling the northern borders of the Regnenses tribe. Rather than meet them in the darkness, Jago and I double backed a short distance, ate a little of our rations and tethered the horse beneath a wooded area near the water’s edge.
It gave us a short time to rest in the shelter of the trees, before we could investigate the crossing. We made no fires nor any sounds, barring the occasional whinny and footfalls from the horse. My stomach knotted with hunger and nerves, but I had to succeed in my mission. All our hopes rested on my ability to act like a helpless old healer woman.
From the edge of the woodland we watched for signs that their fires might be stamped out, suggesting their move from camp. There were none. If anything, the smoke grew thicker, increasing my fear that Tallack might mistake it as a signal from me that all was clear to cross. It was time for decisive action. I gave Jago my knife and told him to cut some beech bark and willow to fill my medicine bag to its fullest. By mid-morning, the fire still burned just as strongly. The warriors had no intention of moving on.
Loading my bag, along with a few bundles of the twigs and branches to the back of my horse, we walked towards the warrior camp. My knife and what little tin I had was hidden about my person. I exaggerated my bent back and we moved closer. Jago had no need to emphasise his limp. The poor lad had healed as much as he was ever going to after the incident on Tallack’s ship which broke his ankle.
The morning was damp making the grass underfoot slippery. Jago led the pony, while I had a thumb stick to lean on as we approached the riverbank.
Ahead of us was twenty or more warriors with their painted horses tethered to hitching posts. Over their fire roasted a couple of fat ducks and a few rabbits. It smelled divine. As we broke cover, one of their watchmen saw us.
“Ho there. State your business in these parts. From which clan do you hail?” His accent was thick, but not so much that I couldn’t understand him. He moved to intercept us, blocking our path to the bridge.
“Just an old healer and my slave, come to pick some willow for the sick children across the river.” I croaked, barely looking up from the trail.
“There’s plenty of willow on the northern shore. Why come here? You are very old for a scout.” He glanced over at my horse, stacked with thin branches and twigs. When I failed to answer him, he pushed Jago out of his way and rummaged in my medicine bag, finding little of value and plenty of plantain paste and mistletoe. “Hmm. This crossing belongs to the Regnenses. There is a toll for its use.”
“As you see, I have nothing of value. I can spare a little ointment or a tincture or two, but it would be stealing from those sick children…” By this time more of the warriors crowded around us curious about Jago’s dark face. They prodded him and pulled at his hair. I flashed him a warning look not to react to their provocation.
“Where would an old hag like you get hold of that much tin?” The astute warrior scoffed.
“I didn’t. I cured the sickness of a wealthy trader with my healing skills and he gave me that in payment. What say you? Is it enough to let us cross in peace?”
Before he could make a decision, another man snatched it from him and opened the pot, sniffing at the white grease. A second man took it from him, digging his little finger into the mix until a host of men were crowded about the thing. I bit my lip to stop a chortle from exploding from me. They were so engrossed in the thought of what pleasures they might have with the worthless paste, they did not see me and Jago heading for the bridge.
It was a strong structure, with entire tree trunks embedded into the river bed to hold up the platform. It didn’t wobble one bit as I led the horse across the planks to the sandy shore on the northern side. Jago breathed a massive sigh of relief the moment we entered into the Catuve-Llauni lands, although our mission was not yet over.
As soon as we could, we sought out another thicket of trees and shrubs close to the river and within sight of the warrior camp. We may have passed without trouble, but their presence prevented the rest of our group from using the bridge. Having any association with the Cantii would be fatal, let alone having the heir to the tribe among them.
Jago kept a look out while I searched for food and wood to build a fire. By his accounts, the warriors bickered and fought over my little pot of grease for some time. Then after they had wound themselves up to a frenzy, Jago called out to me that they had mounted their horses and ridden off in a southerly direction. My ruse had worked. I suspected that they were keen to try out my magical potion on any young women on which they could lay their hands.
As soon as they were out of sight, we stacked up wood and gathered as much green plant matter as we could find, ready to light the fire. When we thought they had ridden far enough away, I struck my flints together and lit a handful of bull rush kindling, blowing the sparks into a decent flame. Jago cheered when the rest of the small sticks caught, until the flames licked the sky. The warmth it kicked out was incredible. As the weak sun reached its peak, and the thicker branches were turning to embers, we piled on the green stems and leaves.
Thick smoke filled the air, rising in tendrils above our heads. Jago unpacked our furs and wrapped one around me while I stewed some of the salted meat with the last of the parsnips. That day without others from our group was one of my best memories. Every so often, I’d chuckle at the thought of those gullible warriors smearing their pintels with chalky grease thinking it would make them last like a stallion.
It was long after dark when I first heard the rattle of the Prince’s wagon approaching the bridge. I sent Jago down to the water’s edge to see if he could bag a few more ducks for the pot. I hadn’t thought to expect them so soon. They must have set off early in the morning after Jago and I had left them, instead of staying put and waiting for my signal. That was a risky decision, particularly if the Regnenses warriors had ridden east instead of south.
Tallack was first to dismount and greet me. He threw his arms about my middle and heaved me into the air. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again, Aunt. I was convinced that they’d run you through with a blade after all that Cade had said about them. You’re a sly one that’s for sure.”
As soon as I could convince him to put me down, he insisted on a blow by blow account of our little adventure. It didn’t have much impact when it was spoken out loud, but he was glad that I was safe and unharmed. The guards and servants unpacked the idol and unloaded the Prince on his chair to conduct his own sacrifice to Melkarth. It was good to see that he’d recovered enough to be out of his furs, although he did seem to be more than a little addled. His healer’s preference for poppy over willow is a dangerous one. A part of me wonders whether the shifty little kyjyan isn’t trying to slowly kill Suliaman, although I couldn’t guess what reasons he might have.
Tallack prodded the roasting ducks. “Hmm.” He licked his finger. “Almost done.” He poured me some ale and settled himself next to me. “Do you believe that statue has the power to take the Prince’s ailments away?”
“If it can, it’s making a poor show of it. They’ve killed a dozen creatures in its honour and Suliaman gets worse daily. If it genuinely is a clay version of their gods, then they are pure evil and not worth the tributes.” I muttered it quietly so that none of the Prince’s men could hear.
“Do you think Father really believed in our gods?”
It was a strange thing to ask me. I’d seen Aebba the Wild pay tribute and observe the correct rituals and rites that our old faith entailed, but I always got the impression that he was doing what he thought people expected of him. I could never be sure that he believed. “I don’t know, Tallack. He never said one way or the other but it pleases me to think of him sitting at Cernonnus’ side in the Summerlands with my brother and father and all the greatest warriors before him.”
Cade joined us. The rich aromas attracted him and made his stomach growl. “If I had an aunt like you, Fur Benyn, I’d be as fat as Tallack.” He lifted one of the roasting spits from the fire and pulled off a duck leg. The juices ran down his arm scalding his wrist. He didn’t drop the meat though. He could fling insults at his cousin all day long and none would stick. They were as different as could be, Tallack’s slender grace was quite the opposite of Cade’s bullishness.
We were a merry crowd that night. Suliaman was in relatively good health, we had escaped the detection of a rival tribe, we had food enough to feed us all to bursting and a big fire to toast our feet. Life was good. Tallack and Cade clowned about play fighting and teasing each other to the extent that all language barriers were overcome. I could almost forget the threats made on my nephew’s life, almost.
When the silly antics subsided and the elation and relief had sent most of the foreigners to their bedding, we discussed the next leg of our journey.
“If we keep this fire burning for long enough, one of the Catuve-Llauni will find us. They are an amicable lot and have trade alliances with almost all the tribes in central Inglond. With a small tribute paid, they’ll allow us to roam freely.” Cade explained.
“Is it worth offering them more to secure one of their scouts as a guide through the territory?” Tallack asked.
Cade shook his head. “I know the land well enough. Better to keep how much metal we have to ourselves. The more tribes that know of Suliaman’s treasure, the greater our risk.”
We both knew of what he was referring. Tribal elders make lofty deals for the foot soldiers to carry out. Even if the elders are trusted to keep their word, not all warriors are able to keep a secret, or quell the temptation to raid the trove for themselves.
“Agreed. We keep it in the family.” Tallack held his arm out for his cousin to grasp. To them, it was a reinforcement of their commitment to the Prince. To me, it looked as though my nephew wanted reassurance that Cade would not turn on us given the opportunity and make off with all Suliaman’s wealth. Tallack knew Cade far better than I, but this small gesture told me about his confidence in his cousin’s promise.
I slept better on the north side of the great river. It is amazing the difference it made. Our whole party rose from slumber refreshed and ready to continue the journey. Cade instructed us to put out the fire and for us all to head north. When I asked him about waiting for the Catuve tribal elders, he waved his hand, dismissing my suggestion.
“They’ll see our tracks and catch up with us. It’s no big deal. We can pay them then.” His carefree attitude to customs and rituals was the first in a long lis
t of troublesome decisions on his part. I favoured waiting and requesting permission to pass through Catuve lands but was outvoted by almost everyone.
In an attempt to avoid Cade and his poor judgement, I chose to ride at the rear of our procession, behind Suliaman’s wagon and the guards. It also kept me well away from Maleek and Tallack, who had resumed the same closeness as before the business with the dead badger.
Lagging behind, I used the opportunity to gather all that I could from the dense woodland north of the river. Yew needles and bark, more willow and ivy, plus a few plants that were sheltered from the worst of the frosts by the trees. Jago collected a huge amount of moss, packing it into a cloth bag and hanging it from my horse. With any luck, it will dry out before we make camp again and I can use it to cushion my head. It has so many uses, it is worth the effort to collect the stuff.
We spent the next night looking up between the trees at the thick clouds above our heads. Cade built another big fire, with hardly any regard for its potential to spread to the fir trees at the edge of our camp. Both he and Tallack appeared to have forgotten that we shared the same floor space as foreign warriors whom a couple of nights before threatened one of our lives. I whispered to my nephew about maintaining a watch at night, but he shrugged it off with a smile. No wonder he didn’t want any of us monitoring the comings and goings about camp. Soon after we had eaten, he disappeared into the woods. Shortly afterwards, Maleek followed. They couldn’t be more blatant if they tried.
I kept my eye on Suliaman’s reactions to his son wandering off to be with my nephew, but I judged him to be half-addled with poppy again. As we were laying out our furs and my sack of dry moss, Jago froze with fear.
“What is it, boy?” I demanded.
“You did not see that, Fur Benyn?” His eyes were wider than I’d ever seen.
“For the sake of Cernonnus, boy, what’s the matter with you?”