by Sam Taw
“As for the amount of tin he asked for… it simply can’t be done. You could give him the option of a half share in all the tin produced from the mine on the north coast for a limited time, but he must fetch it himself. That mine is not so plentiful as the Bentewyn settlement, but he won’t know that. We can say it was chosen for its ease of access to the Iwerdon Sea. Start with a quarter share, if he’ll take it and work up to half, but for no more than five cycles or he’s robbing us blind.” When they grunted their understanding at this, I got up to leave, thinking the rest was settled.
“I won’t bind with his daughter.” Blydh announced. “I intend making Kerensa the next Ruvane.”
I stopped in my tracks and took a massive breath. There was no way around this demand. Faolan had already refused Tallack, and their only other unwed sister was a babe in arms. We had no other relatives to offer. “You must argue that between yourselves.” I said, throwing my arms into the air. I’d done all I could to help them. The rest was up to them alone.
My head spun with all that needed to be done. Before I was across the stream, I yelled back at them. “Make sure you give them our best shelter while they’re our guests. They’ll expect to receive the same courtesy that they showed us.” I knew that would mean giving up my own quarters, but it was a small price to pay considering all the kindness Faolan and his family had shown me.
I wandered back to my shelter to pick up my things and to ask Renowden to find somewhere else to sleep, but discovered it overrun by Cryda and her baby. It bawled its little eyes out on my bunk. Renowden was nowhere to be seen.
Scooping up the child, I jogged her in my arms. “Cryda, you should not have come. This place is not safe. The Duros are preparing for attack. Could be any day now.”
“Tsk, hush. I go where my boys go. They will protect me.” She unhooked the brooch holding the fabric of her cloak together and made herself comfortable on my bed.
“They will be shoulder deep in our enemies’ innards. They can’t fight and take care of you at the same time. There are men to train and lead.” My words fell on deaf ears.
In her head, she was making plans on where to place her treasured belongings. I knew that my peace was shattered the moment she set foot on dry land. Cryda twirled in the luxury of space. “Yes, this will do nicely for the child and me.” She turned to look in my direction. “Is your hut close by, Meliora? I shall need your help in minding her.”
I was too stunned to speak. It had taken less time than to boil an egg for her to revert to her old lofty ways and assert her authority over the tribe. She was no longer the Ruvane, yet to all who looked upon her, she commanded the will of all our people. If Blydh got his own way, Kerensa would out rank her by becoming the next Ruvane in her place. That would knock the smile off her face. I’d lost my home yet again and acquired the lowly job of taking care of her offspring.
Wrapping the babe with my cloak, I wandered back outside to find the slave girl, Finola, who was offered to me by my nephew. She was weaving hurdles with the lad who trembled at my wrath. “You girl. I have a task for you and mind you do it well.” I explained her new role, handed her the child and pushed her into the hut with Cryda. There was no way I was going to become Cryda’s serf again. There was far too much to do.
It was when I went to check up on the working party of men in the forest, that I remembered that the hut Cryda now called home, would be dismantled during the move to the island. Blydh had charged Renowden and me to organise everything, including the sites allocated for shelters and huts. That was when I made the decision to ensure that Cryda was as distant from my own hut as possible on the island compound. Until then, I would have to seek shelter elsewhere.
Mounting my horse, I rode to the forest north of the camp and picked out three of Blydh’s warriors whom I knew to be sharp shooters with the bow. If we were to show these Skotek men southern hospitality, we would need to arrange a feast. Their instructions were simple. Come back with the largest creature you can find. Failing that, bring many small birds and animals in its stead.
Next, I rode to Tallack’s crewmen, ordering them to dig a large fire pit and set out the fishing nets. There were not many slaves left following the raid during the summer moons. Those that were not killed or captured, freed themselves and fled. Our buried hordes of treasure were uncovered and swiped by my traitorous niece. Unfortunately, she had the sense to send it back to Durotriges lands before her brothers caught up with her. It left our tribe struggling to trade for more slaves, food stores and copper to make bronze weapons.
With the added pressure of Faolan’s demands, we would need to be more careful with our resources going forward. Our most urgent requirement was for wood and rope. If we were to put Renowden’s plan into place, everyone would need to lend a helping hand. That started with clearing the forest to the north of the island so that we’d have fair warning of attack.
Blydh’s men had already spent much of the day chopping logs and floating them downstream around the island. Tallack’s crew were shirking by the row boats at the jetty. I rode back to them and gave them a choice. Either they gathered and made as much hemp rope as the local homesteaders could part with, or they took over the clearing of the woodland. Most chose the easier rope making tasks, though neither were easy or lacking in skill. With everyone I could find industrious in their labours, I went in search of Renowden.
He was in the same tent as before, snoring his head off among the stored ale jugs and dried meats. This was Blydh’s storage tent, meant to keep his warriors fed while they trained.
Tripping in the darkness, I woke him rudely when I stepped on his foot. His forgiveness was instant and sincere. I sat on the floor by his side and caught him up with events. I could not keep this camp running without his help.
Before the sun set, the feast preparations were well underway, with a gnarly boar roasting over charcoal pits, with ducks, rabbits and a few squirrels either side for variety. In lieu of a Chieftain’s long hut, we extended the fire outside Blydh’s tent and erected temporary shelters with hurdles and pine brush for Faolan’s men. I say we, but Blydh and Tallack’s men did the work under Ren’s instruction.
The fresh scent of the crushed pine needles masked the stink of the sweaty men. That was a welcome relief. Better still was the sweet pork, which crackled and fizzed as its lard rendered into the hot coals. More than anything, I wanted to sneak away and rest my poor weary bones, but the tasty meats were too enticing to miss.
By Cernonnus, it was by far the best thing I’d tasted in twenty or more summers. With pork grease running down our chins and wrists, we all ate handfuls of the stuff and drank ale until we could hardly move. For once, the weather was kind to us all, clearing the skies of rain clouds until every light from the Summerlands twinkled with the spirits of our ancestors.
Cryda was the first to raise the subject of Aebba’s passing into the realm reserved for Chieftains and noble warriors. I hadn’t the heart to tell her that he couldn’t possibly be watching over us, since his killer still roamed the borderlands, his death unavenged. Aebba would be trapped in the Between Worlds, since his poisoning last spring. The twins glared at me from across the huge fire, reminding me of my shame. I had still a debt to repay, even if it killed me.
I sat with Renowden for most of the feast, discussing plans to secure food supplies and tapping the spring water should the battle be reduced to siege warfare. He had quite a few ideas about building pens to breed rabbits and pheasants in the woodland areas at the sides of the island. Despite the exhaustion, I was buoyed in spirit for the first time since my Jago was taken from me at the top of the world. It wasn’t as though I had forgotten him, or stopped missing him, it was that hard work and attention to my tasks had distracted me from my grief.
Cryda took much of the attention at the feast. Faolan was enchanted by her and the babe, insisting that she sat at his side so he could listen to her tales of Aebba’s past conquests. The twins seemed grateful to her. They knew tha
t time was pressing them from all sides. They had to begin final negotiations with Faolan, but were loath to reached terms.
Derwa stayed close to Kerensa, giggling and whispering together about the Bentewyn settlement and all that they’d left behind there. From the way they glowered and sniggered, I got the distinct impression that Derwa had formed an unhealthy attachment outside her marriage to Glaw. It wouldn’t be the first time she had strayed. Glaw didn’t appear to be bothered either way. He sat with his back to Derwa, carving a hunk of wood with a small knife. I watched him for some time, trying to figure him out.
Why had this heir to the mountain people of Northern Kembra, succumbed to his stubborn wife’s wishes? He had ample opportunity to drag her back to his homeland and insist that she performed her wedded duties as any man had. What did he have to gain by staying in Dumnonii lands, where he was made to feel less than welcome?
Glaw took small sips of ale, never lost control of himself and ate modestly. As far as I could tell, he was a nice fellow with an easy temperament who was abundantly kind to Derwa. She had little to nothing to complain about, other than the fact that she did not choose him as a husband. Her binding paved the way for a truce between the disgruntled Ordoviches and our tribe after a bungled agreement went awry.
As I watched Glaw, he pocketed the wooden block he’d been working on, and took out a rock with glistening patches of green on one side. He turned it in his hands, letting the flickering lights from the flames dance about its surface. Glaw looked transfixed by the glimmering effect. When he saw me watching, his face fell into a pout and he tucked the rock away out of sight. He is a puzzle to be sure.
The warriors and crewmen sat further away from us around a fire of their own. They feasted on venison and fish, with more ale than they ought to have been given. Come morning, they would be difficult to rouse into work.
At length, when the fires had burnt low and everyone had eaten their fill, Blydh rose to his feet. “The time has come for a decision. Faolan, brother, will you join me in my shelter for discussions?” All who looked on went silent, for word had spread about Faolan’s demands.
The men stepped over the log seats and disappeared with their ale into the tent. Kerensa hurried after them, but Treeve caught hold of her arm as she passed him.
“Get off me.” She snarled.
“You’re not permitted inside. You aren’t the Ruvane.” He hissed spitefully.
“And never will be if you don’t let go of me. I have just as much right to be there to hear my fate as they.” She snatched her arm back and ran off to the tent. Treeve stood watching her. Kerensa ducked under the door skins and entered.
“Well if they allow her in, then I should be there too.” Treeve said, sticking his nose in the air and strutting after her.
My gut churned at this development. Nothing good can come of their situation, especially for poor Kerensa. Mind you, Treeve should never have elevated himself to such a lofty position in the tribe either. Cryda sat with her mouth open at their gall. She waited less than a moment, before she too was on her feet and rushing to Blydh’s tent. What a crush it must have been, all those bodies in such a confined space. I expected it to come to blows.
Renowden and I listened as well as we could, the raised voices were muffled and confused. I think many people were talking, or shouting at once. The longer it went on, the more convinced I was that Faolan would withdraw his offer of support under any circumstances. Just when I was gearing up to enter the fray, Kerensa reappeared from beneath the door flaps in floods of tears. She ran off into the night sobbing out her pain. I guess that answers the question of Sorcha’s binding with Blydh, but to what else had they agreed?
CHAPTER SIX
When Faolan came out of the tent, I was itching to ask what had been decided. He walked over to his son, Ealar and patted his head as though he was an infant.
“Well, Pa?” The lad asked.
“You’ll sail home and fetch your sister and the rest of the fleet come morning. Tell the men to make ready.”
That was all I could discover. It was dawn before I found out the rest. Despite my warning, the old wolf had bullied them into half the tin from our northern mine for ten cycles, with Ealar managing the split and living in the community there. That would most likely result in the Novantae taking far more than a half share.
Tallack and I stood on the jetty watching the provisions being loaded onto the row boats to take to the ship in the estuary. He fumed quietly over the hard line the wise old Chief had taken. I can’t say that I blame him. In his situation, risking his men and fleet for another man’s war was folly. They had to make it worth his while.
What surprised me most was that Tallack took no offence at Faolan’s insistence that Blydh should bind with his daughter in place of him. He bore no malice for the man at all. Perhaps his tribe are set against men like Tallack, whereas for us it represents a mere inconvenience to the succession of Chieftains. If it were not for Blydh, I dare say Cryda would have more to say on the matter.
Over the course of almost a full moon cycle, the new compound took shape. The walls and towers were raised first, followed by the movable crossings at the north end and eastern side of the island. Both were Renowden’s designs. He’d witnessed something similar in his travels with Aebba.
When the spiked posts were embedded in the water channels and where the streams dipped under the fences, Blydh lost interest in the developments. Every morning, he would gather his men and leave the compound to train with axe and spear in the clearing beyond.
Tallack and he argued on a daily basis, each time their anger bubbled over into fury. Their close relationship was breaking down in front of my eyes, and I couldn’t see a way to fix them. Where Tallack was convinced that our hopes lay in sound preparations and self-sufficiency in the compound, Blydh believed that gathering new men and training them for battle was key.
Renowden ran between the two, and more often than not, received contradictory orders from each. Before long, the warriors and crewmen didn’t know whether they were coming or going. In an attempt to regain some kind of order about camp, I tried to divide their command, stating that both approaches were equally important, but the lion’s share of compound development was achieved by Tallack’s men, while the training and hunting fell to Blydh’s warriors. With a little give and take, everyone settled into some form of routine.
One morning Blydh’s scouts returned with a fresh batch of homestead workers to train. They were a strange bunch. A couple of skinny little boys, a vicious unruly girl of about fifteen summers and one lad as big as a cart horse. I wished Blydh luck in training them and took my pony out to collect ingredients for my tinctures.
It was a cool morning, but sunny and dry for a change. I filled my bags with nettle and plantain, mallow, and a little yew and willow bark. My stores of herbs and medicines were at last beginning to fill out. I’d even sectioned off a parcel of land near to my new hut to plant the seeds I’d traded for last summer.
Life could be considered great, if it was not for the constant threat of the Durotriges on our borders. By now, they had to know that we were aware of them. I suspected that they were pinning their hopes on the surprise attack from the Ivernii, who had the ability to cripple our fleet. Our warriors were exhausted, and there was still much to be done to secure our safety from attack. We were less vulnerable than we had been, but Faolan’s men and ships still had not returned from North-West Skotek.
Our new recruits were too green to be of use in battle. That was obvious, when I returned from my foraging expedition and walked across the training grounds. Using blunt sticks in place of spears and short swords, I stifled a chuckle at their ineptitude. Tallack and Blydh stood at the edge of the field in another heated debate over Chieftain orders. Blydh’s men yelled their instructions to the recruits and clouted them around the backs of their heads when they failed to comply.
The bad-tempered girl did not want to be there. At first, she tolerated t
he smacks and lunges from her fellow trainees, dodging the worst of their blows and remaining still and uncooperative for the rest of the time. The skinny boys were no threat to her. Even I could see that she had the ability to flatten them if that was her desire, but she folded her arms and glowered instead.
If I had to guess, I’d say that she was taken from her home by Blydh’s warriors without an opportunity to object. Why should she fight for us, when she could stay with her family? It was a common enough gripe among the recruits, but without their help, our lands would be overrun with Durotriges, and she and her family would be enslaved, or worse.
The big lad was defending himself against the ineffectual swipes from his puny sparring partner. His laugh was deep and booming and infectious. Within moments, I was chuckling too. It was all a game to him.
Although I had more chores to be getting on with, I stopped to watch the antics of this huge lummox trying to catch the agile youngsters ducking and diving around his lumbering limbs. He guffawed, swinging his arms about. Then, dropping the stick to the floor, he swept one of the boys up in his arms and hugged him tight.
All the recruits nearby laughed, clapping their hands together, until one of Blydh’s warriors barked at them. The head hunter thundered towards them, furious at their attitude towards training. On his way past, the vicious girl lifted his axe from his belt. He was a good few strides away from her before he noticed what she’d taken.
With a petulant glower, she drew the axe back over her shoulder, aiming between his eyes. She screamed a mournful howl and then let go of the weapon. It hurtled through the air, spinning head over handle on a direct flight towards the warrior’s face. Seeing the blade hurtling closer he fell to his knees, allowing the axe to whirl over the top. It flew directly at me.