by Sam Taw
All I could fixate on was how his teeth looked a lot like wolf fangs when he beamed at me. “Nothing to forgive. You did my father a great service that day, even though he was not able to pay you for your troubles.”
For one horrifying moment, I thought he was going to strike me. His arm settled instead across the back of my shoulders. He squeezed me as though we were kin. His warriors and sons looked on with baffled faces.
“I’m glad I could help him.” I said meekly, hoping to Cernonnus that it was not some trick to gain our favour.
“A brawl when the old Chief was half done in on ale and hemp. You stitched him up and bound his wounds. I remember my mother and I carrying him back to our shelter dying with embarrassment. We had nothing to offer you for your service.” I was still tucked beneath his shoulder and he didn’t seem to want to let go. I made no attempt to escape for fear of riling him. “Boys, come and meet the healer from Stonehenge.” His sons sheathed their blades and wiped the blood from their hands. The shorter one stood before me and took hold of my limb at the elbow. I gently wrapped my fingers around his muscular forearm.
“Good to meet you, healer.”
“Indeed, as with you.” I said, lengthening my spine at the formalities. I repeated the process with his younger brother, and then looked to the state of my nephew laying on the ground. The embarrassment was all mine this time. Instead, I chose to explain the presence of Maleek and Suliaman, Cade and Idina, and finally apologise for Tallack’s behaviour.
The Chief roared with laughter. “Nay, lass. That makes us even on that score. Nay trouble yourself.” He let me fidget free from his grasp for a moment while he gave his tribesmen orders. Some of his men gathered up Tallack and slung him over a horse. Other’s suspended the Prince from a wooden frame attached to the rear of a cart pony. Maleek, Cade, Renowden and the girls were given their own beasts to ride.
The gruesome idol still sat by the fire, stained brown with aged layers of blood. “What in the name of all the gods is that?” The Chief asked me, pulling a disgusted face.
I explained the importance to the Prince and that it was a part of their religion from far off lands. The grinning masks lay next to the idol, wrapped in fine purple cloth. On my say so, the Chief commanded that his men should transport the clay goods with care back to their compound a short way inland.
Filled with a mixture of relief and suspicion, I helped Jago onto the back of the horse I’d been given, and followed the long procession of warriors to their stronghold. I could feel Jago trembling against my back and knew exactly what was coursing through his mind, for I had the same notion. It was too fortuitous to be sheer luck, unless the Goddess Cerridwen favoured us and led the Chief to our fire. We had next to nothing left worthy of stealing, and our number too few to warrant a ruse to get us into the camp. If they had truly wanted us dead, it would have already happened on the beach, where the sea could wash away the mess.
“Fur Benyn, do you really know this man?” Jago whispered into my ear as we rode. I shrugged. For some reason, my slave wanted answers. I had few to give him, other than a faint recollection of the symbol burned onto the hindquarters of their horses. It jogged a memory of their tribal name, the Novantae.
The further along the track we rode, the braver and more inquisitive I felt. Sons of the Chief rode alongside me, as though I was a prized possession to be guarded. Not sure if this was usual, I turned to the shorter, and I assumed, the elder of the two and asked if it was permitted for me to ride alongside the chief. They both found my request hysterical.
“Aye, you can try, but he’s a mean ole bastard.” The younger of the two said.
Unperturbed by their jovial warning, I tapped my heel into the horse’s belly and caught up to the front of the line.
The Chief gave me another wolfish smile. “I don’t blame you. My boys are dull at conversation. Have you come to check that I won’t have you slaughtered when we get to ma’ home?”
I’d underestimated his intelligence. That wouldn’t happen again.
“The way I see it, my kin still owe you for your kindness. You don’t remember, aye, but I do. You even found him the following day to check up on his bindings and redress his wounds. We never did know your name or your tribe, but I ne’er forget a face.”
“Tallack and I are Dumnonii, Cade is Cantii and Idina is Catuve-Llaunii.” I told him, expecting his raised brow look of confusion. I didn’t offer an explanation.
“Dumnonii of the tin mines?” Definitely sharper than he looked, that one. I nodded, watching his response keenly.
“Then I am very glad that I didn’t have you killed. What do they call you? We should talk trades you and I.”
“My name is Meliora, but I have more nicknames than I care to admit.” I was bashful about telling him that my tribe, and some other folk insisted upon calling me a wise woman.
The Skotek wolf snuffled. “I can imagine. And your dark friend behind you? Can’t be your kin, surely?”
“He is to me, Chief. This is Jago. Saved my life more times than I can count.”
He pulled a face that seemed to say, fair enough, but at the same time indicated that he thought I was addled in the brain. It mattered little what he thought, Jago was family to me and that was a fact. After all my years of avoiding formal hierarchies, it felt odd to refer to this huge Skotek man as Chief. “May I ask what people call you?”
“Aye, it’s Faolan.” He grinned at me.
“But isn’t that Skotek for wolf?” Now I was chuckling too.
“Aye, lass. It is that.” He seemed to understand my amusement. It was plainly not the first time he’d been likened to the animal. As I thought about my aversion to the creatures, since the incident on the estuary, I realised that it suited him. He was a different kind of wolf, one which led a full and respectful pack. It reminded me of Blydh. He too was named for the wild hound. He was more like a lone wolf than Faolan, but equally devoted to honour and kin.
“The one behind you trying and failing to grow a beard is Ealar. My eldest on your right is Greum.”
It was not a long ride to their compound, but in that time, the old wolf had wheedled every bit of information about our trip and the Prince’s curse from me. Initially, I thought he might use Suliaman’s illness to banish us from camp, just as Idina’s father had done, but Faolan was shrewd. He knew the ease with which they, or we, could ship tin up to their region from ours. Having a solid alliance with our tribe would not only raise his fortunes, but would allow him to distribute tin to the whole of Skotek. It gave us a significant bartering power.
That evening, Chief Faolan welcomed us into his home and his heart. The ale flowed as freely as their tongues. They sang and drank and feasted to our health, and made us all comfortable and refreshed. All except Maleek and Suliaman, for the Prince’s health continued to decline faster than ever before, and with it Maleek’s temper too.
Tallack sobered up from his shameful bout of resin abuse, and apologised to Faolan’s wife for not presenting himself sooner. He paid tribute to the red-haired beauty, and that of his daughter, with a few tin beads and a shark’s tooth necklace he kept about his neck. It was a paltry offering compared with our usual tributes, but it was almost all we had left to us. Neither ladies seemed to mind, especially since we’d all pushed the incident on the beach aside, where the heirs to the Novantae beheaded two of our party and let their bodies wash out to sea.
The most surprising aspect of the feast was the way in which Jago and I were treated. I sat in the most prestigious seat next to Faolan, with my slave right next to me, on their high table. Tallack, Maleek, Cade and Idina sat on the bench below us with Faolan’s sons and his daughter, the handmaidens lower still. That did not go unnoticed by Maleek. He sat with a stern scowl across his face all night. His poor attitude might have been because he was outshone by a humble slave and a silly old woman, or it could have been due to the fact that the grinning idol and masks were in Faolan’s possession. Maleek was unable to p
ay tribute to the ugly god while we sat as the Novantae’s guests.
Faolan sent for his own healers and wise women to take care of all Suliaman’s needs. He was so weak now, that he remained in his fur stretcher supping what little he could take of broth and ale and poppy resin, but it took considerable help. When I went to check on him, his nose was bleeding, his eyelids were raw, and his stunted, claw hand prevented him from helping himself. His face was a mass of dry, raised lumps and the sores spread across his body. He was a pitiful sight.
He called out to me to come closer. “Fur Benyn. Please, can you bring my son to me.” I did as he asked, clearing the women out of the hut where he lay and fetching Maleek to his bedside. The Prince spoke too softly for me to hear his words. Maleek’s forehead puckered up in deep concern. When their discussion was completed, the Prince called the women back to ask for more resin water.
“What did he say to you, Maleek.” I asked, following him back to the feast.
“It was between father and son. Not for your ears. Go back to your fawning Chief and slave.”
That was a low blow. I only enquired in case I could be of use to him. He was becoming as changeable as his father. He returned to his seat next to Tallack, and I to mine next to the Novantae leader. For the rest of the night, I watched Maleek and my nephew closely. Tallack attempted a reconciliation between them, pouring them both cup after cup of ale, and telling as many funny stories as he could remember. Maleek, on the other hand, appeared to be sulking. He stared at those of us on the top table, directing his fury towards me and Jago. Perhaps we should have insisted that someone as proud and noble as he should have taken our place next to the Chief.
At long last, when the singing quietened, and the ladies took themselves off to bed, Faolan stood and announced that he had ordered his ships to be made ready at the harbour, and that he himself, intended to accompany us to the stones at sunrise. We could not have asked more from this generous man, with his eye to our tin.
I slept like a Ruvane in furs and woollens, and a blazing fire to toast my feet. Jago had his own bunk on the opposite side of the hut I was given for the night. This was more than anyone could’ve expected.
In the morning, Jago and I were fetched when all the horses and provisions were packed ready for our departure. Faolan’s daughter brought us fresh milk and salted pork to see us through to the harbour. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the Novantae ship was bigger and sturdier than I anticipated. We all fit on his largest vessel, with his sons and some of his tribal warriors following us in smaller boats.
I crouched down next to Maleek and the Prince at the bow. “How is he?” I asked, assuming that Maleek was in a better mood since we had set sail.
He shook his head, all his facial muscles slackened, and I thought he might produce a tear. He held it at bay, sniffing and blinking. Suliaman lay at our feet, wrapped in layers of fur. His nose was less than half the size of when we had first met him in Frynk. It was as though the curse was eating him from the inside. The bone of his brows seemed to be caved in too, although he’d sustained no injuries to his skull during the enemy attack.
I’m sure that I was not alone in thinking that the best outcome for this poor creature from a civilised and noble family, would be to join his gods and leave his broken body behind. I couldn’t understand why Maleek was so intent on dragging his father to the top of the world in search of a cure. Even if the holy men could lift the curse, his flesh was too weak to recover from such a brutal ailment.
We set off at a brisk pace. The skill of the Skotek tribe in navigating their waters gave us a sense of relief. They knew the wild changes in weather, the fierce currents and the rocky shores better than we could guess them. Tallack sat with the Chief, making plans for the tin trade up the western coast between our two tribes. Even if the agreement with the Prince collapsed, we had forged an alliance with this honourable Chief.
Suliaman coughed and spluttered, choking. Maleek lifted his father by the shoulders until he could cradle him across his lap. As far as I could tell, the Prince was not conscious or aware of our discussion.
With the favour of the Novantae leader just a few steps away to protect me, I ventured the question which seemed to be resting on all our lips, but had remained unspoken. Faltering at first, I cleared my throat and caught the gaze of Maleek.
“You know, it is still not certain that the holy men at the stones will be able to lift the curse. They are, after all, of a different faith to yours.” A leading question, skirting about what I really wanted to say.
Maleek did not answer. He wiped the cold sweat from his father’s brow and returned his gaze to mine.
“I can see that he suffers greatly, every day.” I continued. “Would it not be merciful to allow Suliaman to die in peace and be with his ancestors?” It had been building in my mind for such a long time, I felt its burden lift from me as soon as the words left my mouth. I hadn’t expected his reply or the eloquence of his speech.
“I know that you won’t understand, Meliora. How could you? You have done all you can to ease his suffering on this quest, and now that we are so close to achieving our goals, you want us to give in now?”
I tried not to be annoyed at his supreme grasp of our language after pretending his ignorance for so long. It was hard to avoid raising it in discussion, but I wanted to know what drove them both to go to such lengths. “Of course, we will not abandon the quest, but you ought to prepare yourself for what may come next.”
“He has to make it to the Black Rites Ritual. He cannot die before the curse is broken.”
“But won’t it be broken when he dies anyway?”
Maleek misted up, his eyelids filling with tears. “I knew you hadn’t understood. If your holy men cannot cure him before he dies, it will pass directly to me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The stakes were higher than I thought. No wonder Maleek had given up the life of luxury in his homeland to spend it in exile with the Prince. He had a vested interest in finding the cure, or else he’d suffer the same fate.
We sailed in virtual silence for the rest of the day and moored at a settlement on an island for the night. Faolan and his sons provided us with every comfort, but our entire party were on edge. The cold and damp seemed to speed Suliaman’s decline. His moments of lucidity, where he could speak to his son, were few in number and reducing every moment.
Our second day at sea took us along the outer edge of the isle at the top of the world, until Faolan could steer us into a sea loch close to the stones. The islanders saw our sails long before we docked. Some went to warn the holy men, others stayed to greet us. Their visitors were few, making every occasion a chance to trade.
I was grateful that Chief Faolan took charge of the entire event, since we were too exhausted by our journey to think clearly. Tallack handed over the last of our tin to pay for the ritual preparations and priests. We rested until nightfall, waiting to be summoned to the stone circle. As luck would have it, the clouds parted at sunset, affording us all a stunning red sky over the loch.
One of the islanders gave us warming broth and fresh bread. I had no idea what meat it contained. Suliaman perked up a little as soon as we were back on dry land. “Meliora. You are a woman of your word.” He croaked to me from his fur-lined bedding. “Maleek will see to it that our agreement is kept, whatever happens this night.”
Tallack beamed when he heard this. We had held up our part in the bargain and survived. The Prince asked for a private word with his son. We left them in the cosy, stone and thatched house, and went in search of Faolan. Cade and Idina had slipped away to the jetty next to the loch. She carried the votive panel with Phoenician script almost everywhere she went these days. It would appear that Idina had overcome her indifference to Cade and was happy to be in his company. They might make a fine couple after all.
Jago and the handmaidens laughed and giggled at Renowden’s antics, juggling pinecones around a fire. Faolan ordered the unloadi
ng of the statue and masks from the other boats. I looked on in amazement.
“How come they have followed us here?” I asked the Chief.
“The Prince requested that they be brought to the stones. He said that if they were not present, he could not undertake the Black Rites Ritual.”
My heart sank. “And I was thinking we were finished with all that bloodshed.”
Faolan looked at me and frowned. “Should I go and trade for a sacrificial animal?”
“If it’s not too much trouble. Better make it a big one, an ox or a cart horse or something of similar size.”
As I said it, Maleek appeared in the doorway of the stone house. He saw Tallack and I standing next to the Chief and made his way over to us. I noticed that he did everything in his power to avoid eye contact. “My father has asked to speak with the highest of the holy men. He is too weak to go himself. Can he be brought here before the ritual begins?”
Faolan whistled his son Ealar, who was sent to fetch the priest from the stones. “Was there anything else your father needs?”
Maleek flicked his eyes in our direction and then reverted to gazing at the ground. “He said that you have already arranged for the transportation of the statue. Faolan nodded. Maleek gave us a half smile. “We are in your debt.” He bowed, turned about and walked back to his father inside the house.
Something was not right. I prodded my nephew in the arm. “Have you said something to offend him?”
“No, of course not.” He side-stepped my insistent bony finger.
“Well something must have happened to make him this way.” I said, narrowing my beady eye at him.
Tallack shrugged. “I did all I could to please him, but he won’t have anything to do with me. He just mutters stuff about belonging to Melkarth.”
Faolan pulled a quizzical face at me.
“That’s their god of gods. Like Cernonnus, but from what I’ve seen so far, much nastier.” I explained.