Pagan Curse (Tribes of Britain Book 2)

by Sam Taw

  Tallack moved his horse abreast of mine. “What do you suppose he’ll make Cade do?” He asked me, as though I had all the knowledge in the world up my sleeve.

  “If he has any sense, it’ll be a hefty penance. Old Osbert will use this as a warning against other tribes trying the same thing.” I said.

  “You think he’ll kill him?” Tallack shrieked.

  “What, and start a war with the Cantii? Don’t be daft. Anyway, the Catuve need to trade for copper. I dare say Osbert wants to teach the young upstart a lesson that’s all. Who knows what he’ll come up with?” I almost laughed. If he’d taken my advice at the bridge, this entire delay could have been avoided. “Jago, hop down and tell the Prince and Maleek what is happening, or they’re likely to force their few warriors to put up a fight they cannot win.”

  While Jago did my bidding, I scanned the horizon, counting all the tents and shelters and estimating the number of warriors Osbert had at his command.

  Tallack must have been doing the same thing. “I didn’t realise that the Catuve were such a large tribe. Considering their peaceable reputation, they are extremely battle ready, wouldn’t you say?” Tallack whispered to me. I think he was in shock to think that his cousin would be idiotic enough to upset such a mighty force.

  After a while, we realised that this was not going to be a quick apology to make things right. Cade was ushered into the largest shelter, where we assumed the Chief had quartered. I got down from my horse and led it to where the Catuve warriors had cleared the snow. If we had to suffer the cold together, the least we could do was make sure that our horses were not ankle deep in half-thawed slush.

  We were surrounded by tribal warriors, each with a spear and shield, and enough furs to keep their teeth from chattering. I wore every layer I had and wished that I’d brought more. Jago looked to be suffering the most. His skinny little body was unused to the cold at the best of times. I instructed him to unpack our bedding and wrap it around himself, while I wandered to the wagon.

  Maleek stopped me, trying to use our words unaided. “Why are we here?” He pointed north with an outstretched arm. “Need to move.”

  “Yes, I realise that, but unless you want to end your days on one of those spears, we must do as they say.” I gave him a thin-lipped smile, and wondered how much he’d understood. Something about their furtive discussions and the way in which Maleek and Suliaman concentrated on our private talks did not add up. I must have stared too long in my ponderings as he frowned at me. “Your Father?

  Maleek assumed I wanted to see him, rather than enquiring after his health. He waved in the general direction of the cart and wandered off to stand alongside Tallack.

  With nothing better to do, I climbed up the wagon to see the Prince. For once, he was attentive and sitting upright in his tall chair. His warriors had lashed it to the sides of the cart to prevent the Prince from sliding around in the back. When he saw me peeking through the gap in the greased fabric, he beckoned inside.

  It was surprisingly warm within the covered area. Suliaman had furs around his shoulders and another across his lap. He offered one to me, but I could already feel the difference from the chilly track. He seemed keen to engage me in conversation.

  “Tell me about your boy.” He said, with a tilt of the head that made me think he was being polite. There was not a hint of confusion over the use of our tongue. It was fluent and well thought out. I tried to hide my shock, but it left me reeling. Was not knowing our language all a pretence?

  “Oh, well, he’s my nephew, one of twins. You know two boys born at the same time to the same mother?” I held two fingers aloft to emphasise the situation.

  Suliaman shook his head. “Not he, your Jago. Tell me of him.”

  Baffled by his sudden interest, and still dazed by his deception, I took a moment to calm myself. Why on earth would he ask about a little slave boy, stolen from his homeland and sold to a Frynkish flesh trader? It was a miracle the boy survived after all he’d endured. I frowned at his curiosity. “He’s just a slave. Tallack’s father gifted him to me to help me gather herbs for healing. Why do you ask?”

  “I heard one of your tribe call him the Chosen One.” A sly grin spread across his face. The wily old man observed more than he let on. He must have heard Renowden or Tallack call him that. I can’t imagine how Cade would know that name.

  “It’s true that he has fits, as you have witnessed yourself. That made my people believe him to be special, that he could talk with the gods.” I said with caution, wondering where he was going with this line of enquiry.

  “What makes you think he cannot speak with the gods? Perhaps that is what gives him seizures. It would be a great strain on a mere mortal channelling your Cernonnus, would it not?”

  His ability with our tongue was too good to have only learnt it in the last few days. This man knew what we were saying all along. I shuffled back on my knees in the confined space, dumb-founded. Why would he pretend if not to trick us? I creaked and moaned getting to my feet to leave.

  “Come, Fur Benyn, don’t be cross with me. That is what they call you, isn’t it? Wise woman?” There was something sinister about his tone, as though he relished getting the better of me. “I am truly grateful for your healing balms and tonics. You have greater skills than that useless man I brought with me.”

  I was at the entry way readying myself to climb down, but something made me turn back. “Why did you insist on having Jago translate for you if you understood every word we said?”

  “I did not know whether your kin could be trusted. They spoke freely in my presence thinking I did not understand.”

  “And what did you learn?”

  “That you love your tribe more than anything in the world and would see them prosper even at your own expense.”

  That wasn’t the answer for which I was looking. If they meant to dupe us, why didn’t they do this in Frynk? He was certainly not faking his ailment. Ulcers such as the ones on his feet would be cruelly painful to anyone with normal sensations. I held up the entrance flap and stopped. “What did you really do to be cursed in such a way?”

  His grin vanished and with it the space seemed cold and unwelcoming. “A story for another day.” He signalled his warrior servant to help me down the back of the wagon.

  I was reeling with this revelation. Seeking out my nephew, I whispered this new information about Suliman’s deceit to him. He listened to all I had to convey and simply nodded. He made no fuss. There was no outburst of fury, or confrontations with his lover.

  As he began to walk away from me, I grabbed his sleeve. “Did you not hear me? They have lied to us for all this time.”

  The look he gave me was grave, but he said nothing. His gaze flitted towards Maleek and then over to their guards, as if to say, we are in enough trouble right now – don’t make a scene. Did Tallack know about their abilities with language? How did Suliaman and Maleek learn our tongue?

  These and many other questions sent me giddy with doubt. What had they in store for us when the quest was over? I hurried towards the line of Catuve warriors blocking our path, craning my neck to see if Cade was out of the Chieftain’s talks. He wasn’t. The sooner this trip was over, the better.

  Renowden skinned his latest catch while Maleek and Tallack sat giggling together mounted on their horses. How could my nephew forgive such falsehoods and carry on as if nothing had happened?

  Jago sensed my confusion. “Shall I build a fire right here, Fur Benyn? You look cold.”

  He stopped short of adding, and agitated. There were no indications for how long the discussions might take. I was starting to wish that we had stayed in the forest. Just as I was about to agree with Jago over the fire, I caught sight of Cade. At last we would discover what his penance would be.

  “Well? Tallack asked.

  Cade scratched his chin and winced. “I’m to be bound to his eldest daughter this very day, or lose the favour of the whole tribe along with our trading agreement.”
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  “Kyjya! The old man doesn’t mess about, does he? What’s she like?” Tallack cackled.

  “No idea. Never met her. I had to agree to take no other too, so that our sons inherit the Cantii leadership.”

  “Cunning old kyjyan. Your kin will command the largest tribe in all of Inglond.”

  “That’s his game I reckon, yes.” Cade looked utterly despondent. Virtually all Chieftains in the land were afforded as many wives as they liked. This agreement shackled him to one. He could have as many slaves to couple with as he fancied, but no other offspring could bear his title. With strong blood ties in neighbouring lands, the Regnenses would be outnumbered and running scared. It was a sensible move for Chief Osbert, especially if his first son was a little on the weak side, as rumour suggested.

  Maleek assumed that we could be on our way, leaving Cade to his nuptials, but our host was insistent that we all remained to bless the binding. Cade was also keen to continue the arrangement, giving him more opportunities to make off with the prize of a profitable trading partnership with Suliaman.

  At length, our horses and the wagon were led to a space between their shelters. Osbert’s massive tent was decked out with boughs of holly and ivy, while livestock were butchered for the feast. I got the distinct impression that preparations were made before our arrival at the forest. No doubt Osbert’s scouts were tracking our whereabout before we even crossed the river.

  The ale was warm and plentiful, our hosts gracious and kind. I was not sorry to be stopping in such fine shelters or eating such delicious foods. Formal introductions were made between Osbert and his kin and our foreign visitors. They were given pride of place, next to the wedded couple and the Chief. Jago, the warriors, and servants of Suliaman, were given victuals and ale in a separate tent since all the Catuve elders were invited to the ceremony. In lieu of a wooden henge of life, the ceremony took place at the foot of a massive oak tree.

  Cade stood next to Tallack holding a ribbon of fine woven cloth. Osbert stood before them and called his daughter to the front. She held in her hands a posy of ivy heads surrounded with trailing stems. Cade looked pleased with his match since she was a pretty little thing. She looked less satisfied with the union. It took several low growls from her father to force her to Cade’s side.

  Two young maidens skipped up to the couple each holding the end of a springy length of willow, decorated with entwined leaves and berries. They arched the bough over their heads and waited for Osbert to say the oath. I have attended more binding ceremonies than I can remember. Each tribe has their own way of doing things, little quirks and customs, but none so strange as the Catuve Tribe.

  Beneath the oak tree the snow was cleared and a thick layer of rushes were laid. Idina, the bride, took Cade by the arm and encouraged him to lay down. She gave her posy of magical ivy to one of the girls holding the bough over their heads. Much to everyone’s surprise, Idina began stripping him of clothes. Cade shrieked and wailed but held his tongue when Osbert afforded him a silencing glare. When Cade was completely naked and surrounded by snow, Idina took out a bronze blade and started shaving his body. Not just his chest and his legs, but every single part, from his scalp to his toes.

  Tallack and Renowden laughed until they choked. Maleek and Suliaman’s brows were sky high and stayed there. Only the Catuves did not find the spectacle amusing. Idina took her time, softening his bristly hair with a warm cloth and scraping the blade over his skin. When at last she was done, and the men of our tribe had finished ridiculing him, she collected up the hair, wrapped them in ivy leaves from her posy and buried it beneath the tree.

  Cade shot up from the rushes and dragged his clothes back on in double quick time. It was his turn to shave his wife. This time, she sat on a stool facing the trunk of the tree and offered him the same knife. Cade stood and looked at Osbert, puzzled.

  “Shave just her head, but leave a small tail with which to drag her to your bed.” His voice so solemn, it could hardly be mistaken for a joke and yet Cade stood and laughed.

  “You’re kidding right? Her hair is beautiful, she is beautiful. Why would I shave it all off?” He argued.

  “That’s our way. You will learn to love her without her hair. It will stop others from your tribe being attracted to her, and eventually it’ll grow back.”

  With a shrug and a defeated shake of the head, he began the task of lopping off her incredible black hair. The maids gave him warm water to pour over Idina’s locks. With two fingers to the side of her face, he tipped her head away and held the blade level with her scalp. Pausing, he lowered his arm to think again, before moving her in the opposite direction. When the pressure of us all staring got to him, he lunged with the knife, angling it towards her skin and pushing down on the blade.

  Idina jumped a little on her seat, biting her lip but making no sound. Cade drew back the knife and noticed the streak of blood trickling down his bride’s face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A solitary tear mixed with the blood on her cheeks. Cade stepped back. Everyone could see the knife dripping with Idina’s blood. At first, we all thought he’d killed her, until she swivelled around on the stool. His bungled efforts had almost scalped the girl. Osbert threw his arms in the air and ranted at Cade’s incompetence. I fetched my kit bag. I’ve never been called to heal a bride at her binding before.

  To speed the process along, Osbert entwined their hands and wrapped the ribbon of fabric about their wrists, before pronouncing them wedded. A feeble cheer came from the crowds as the Catuves realised that they were now allied by blood to the stupidest heir in the land.

  By the time I got to washing her skin and hair of matted blood, Idina was inconsolable. Nothing I could say or do would stop her pitiful cries. Cade made matters worse by telling her that after I had stitched up the wound, she could keep her hair. Between the snot-filled sobs, she said that a shaved head was the mark of a newly married woman and without it, they were not bound in the eyes of Cernonnus.

  “If I don’t stitch you up, you’ll never have hair again.” I grumbled, trying to hold her still and thread my bone needle with fibres of rabbit back strap. “Maybe Cade can have another go at it when it’s healed.” That just made her cry louder and more hysterical. I was starting to think that Osbert chose this daughter to punish him.

  When I’d finished treating what I could of her hairline, they walked into the Chief’s tent with their hands still bound together. Osbert’s slaves had the feast ready and it was time for the bridal tributes. Idina’s friends and female relatives gave her fabrics, furs, bracelets of woven horsehair and copper beads, and more carved spoons than could be used in a lifetime. These she laid in a basket by her side.

  Tallack gave her tin ingots. I had a set of tin ear studs to place in her basket. Maleek gifted her a golden bangle that shone from every tiny facet beaten into its surface. At long last, it was time for the Prince’s tribute. His warrior servant helped him to his feet and held his arm as he staggered from his chair at the top table to the centre where the bride sat.

  “For one so beautiful and noble, something with which to defend yourself, if ever you should need it.” Suliaman announced, his slow blink calming her tears and fuelling her curiosity. From his sleeve, the Prince pulled out a curved dagger of the finest bronze. Its hilt was made of gold and embedded with jewels of red and blue. As he unsheathed the knife, Idina gasped at its shine. He edged forwards and laid it into her open palms.

  “Be careful, it is sharper than a lynx tooth.” Backing away, he left Idina to marvel at its lustre.

  “Thank you.” She gushed, not taking her eyes from it for a moment. At the time I thought it was a generous token indeed, until I saw the glint in Idina’s eyes. What thoughts of mischief brewed inside her mind? Did Suliaman gift her a dagger to use upon her new husband when she tired of his advances? From her reaction, I am sure that it crossed her mine too. The Prince seems to be fond of stirring the pot. She should have traded for the knife with those carved wood
en spoons.

  Instead of stepping back to his seat, his warrior servant handed him a flat section of wood with distinctive markings on its surface. Taking it close to the bride, Suliaman leaned in and whispered something to her. Idina blushed, clasping her hand over her mouth. Everyone in the tent, including me, was desperate to know what the object was and what he said to her. Idina took the wooden item, turned the marked side to her face and smiled. With a tiny bow, the Prince retreated back to his seat.

  These foreigners fascinated, and at the same time, terrified me. Why would he give her a piece of wood? I couldn’t make out a use for it nor a reason for marking its surface and clearly his explanation was meant only for Idina.

  Tallack crouched low so as not to be noticed as he sidled over to my side. “Any chance of cutting and running before the day is out?” He said it quietly so that only Jago and I could hear.

  “Not likely, unless you want Osbert to cast his anger on us too. He might have other daughters if you’re interested.” I smirked. Idina was pulled to her feet by her hand maidens and urged into a traditional dance. Cade looked more interested in our discussion. I could see him straining to hear what was said.

  Tallack wrinkled up his nose. “I’ll see if we can leave first thing in the morning without Cade. I expect that he’ll have to stay and do his duty by his wife.”

  Before I could reply, Cade hurried over to us. “You can’t leave without me. I know your game. My father instructed me to accompany you and the Prince all the way to the top of the world. I’ll tell Idina and Osbert we’ll stop on the way back to pick her up.”

  “I can’t see that going down well. Mind you don’t make matters worse. Osbert is tricky. One false move and you’ll lose your manhood as well as your trade alliance.” I warned, but it made no difference to the headstrong youngster. He rushed off to speak with the Chief.