by Sam Taw
Twice I sent Kewri out to the northern watchtowers to ask for any signs of their arrival, both times his return filled me with dread. Renowden returned just as Blydh dozed off. He held in his cupped palms the items I had asked for; tiny pins made from silver.
“And the tools?” I asked.
Ren tipped the pins into one hand and reached to his belt for a delicate hammer from the forge. “It’s the one used for Cryda’s jewels.” The second item was a sharp pin made from bronze stuck into a wooden handle. I knew that the smith had this tool, for I had seen him use it to make holes in the leather belts. Ren emptied all that he’d brought into a bowl of salt water until I was ready for them.
Kewri knew what I needed him to do. He took the leather strapping I had laid out and tied Blydh’s arms and legs to the bunk. I couldn’t have him thrashing about while his skull was open. I softened the catgut stitches with a cloth soaked in warm water and then cut through them. The scalp flesh had already begun to knit to his bone. It tore away as I pulled it, making a sickening noise. With the flap of hair and skin rested on Blydh’s face, I could see how the sun disc had shifted. The shallow groove at the back of his head was not sufficient to hold it in place.
My reluctance to complete the job saw me rinsing him down with salt water and peeking into the folds of his brain looking for any bits of skull I might have missed. I couldn’t see any, but that didn’t mean that there were none, only that I couldn’t find them. With a growing sense of foreboding, and the thunder cracking over our heads, I took the pin tool from the bowl and with as much care as I was able, made small holes in the bones at the outer limits of the sun disc. Ren passed me the silver pins as I tapped them into place with the jewellery hammer. When I had surrounded the entire disc with tiny nails, I began tapping them flat over the golden plate.
Kewri held two torches above my head to give me enough light to work, for the skies were dark with storm and the rain washed down in rivulets past my door. I was just fastening the last pin when Blydh stirred and his eyes flickered open. I froze with the hammer no more than a thumbnail’s distance from his skull.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Blydh’s head flopped to one side and then backwards. He groaned a long and mournful cry, drowned out by the god’s wrath overhead.
Renowden’s quick thinking saved the moment. He held Blydh’s chin and pulled down on his jaw while trickling in more resin water. The top up was all it took to send him into a peaceful slumber.
Before I could begin to stitch him back up, Tallack scurried into the hut soaked from head to toe. “Are you not done yet, Aunt? I wanted him to see the axes. They are finished. What do you think? Aren’t they magnificent?”
Was it only the young who could be this oblivious to the perilous nature of this treatment? One small slip and I could have killed him at any stage in the procedure. There was no way that Blydh was going to jump up miraculously cured. He’d be lucky if he regained his wits at all. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was my Metern and I had to humour him no matter the situation.
“Blydh is repaired to the best of my ability, Chief Tallack, but he won’t be fit to fight for a long time.” I glanced up at the axes. They were huge and heavy, with curved edges and a dimpled surface. It was doubtful that Blydh would even have the strength to lift one, let alone fight with the Duros. I noted that the handles were made from antlers. “You sacrificed the white hart last night then?”
Tallack let the axe handles slip through his hands until they rested on the rushes. “No, it still lives and will stay in camp until those kyjyan horns have grown back. Then we’ll have a proper ritual.” That confused me. I screwed my face up in puzzlement, looking at Renowden to explain.
“The buck’s antlers fell off for the spring moult. Cernonnus obviously doesn’t want this creature killed.” Renowden smirked, hiding his smile from Tallack.
I said nothing. Perhaps it really was the spirit of the God of Death who visited me in the forest and who grazed in our enclosures with the horses. I took it to be a good sign. Having a god wandering about the compound gave me a sense of calm. Cernonnus must have heard my apology at the Nine Maidens. Why else would he send such vicious weather to deter the Duros from attack?
“I will sacrifice him though,” Tallack sniffed. “When the time is right.”
Ren rolled his eyes at me, making me chuckle. “Is there anything else that needs doing, Chief? Fur Benyn’s finished with me now.”
Tallack tapped one of the axe head’s with his toe. I could tell that he was itching to try out his new toy. “Not sure. Are the rock baskets full on the battlements?”
Renowden nodded.
“And the row boats carried inside the gates along with those movable bridge things you made?”
“They are.”
Tallack pulled a face. “Have I forgotten anything, Aunt Mel?”
Now he asks me. It was a bit late to get my take on the largest raiding party our tribe had seen since Aebba the Wild’s youth. “I’m just a healer, Nephew. What would I know about war?”
Tallack sat on the edge of the bunk next to his brother as I completed the last of the stitches. “You remember the old ways. When grandfather increased our territories to beyond the River Sid.”
I nodded. “I do.”
“Then tell me what to do. I need your guidance.”
“Blydh almost banished me for making suggestions when I had no right to. I dare not offend him again.”
He looked up at me and then at Renowden. Ren took the hint and shuffled around the tight space and ducked beneath the door skins and out into the teeming rain. Kewri didn’t know what to do with himself. I needed him to hold the torches for light, but he was uncomfortable staying. Tallack took them from him and flicked his head towards the entrance.
When we were alone, Tallack returned to being the sweet-tempered boy I knew him to be. Maintaining the pretence of being Tallack the Fearless took a toll on him. He looked exhausted and the Duros were not yet at our walls.
“Fire will be their greatest weapon. We are trapped here with nowhere to run. They will surround the camp and shower us in flaming arrows until everything is ablaze and there is no food nor shelter. If they burn down our walls in several places, we are done for. We don't have the numbers that they do.”
His forehead puckered into a panicked frown. “What are our options? Should we make a run for it and go further west?”
“And have them believe us cowards? They would run us down and slaughter us all. We have mothers, babes in arms and too many elderly to outrun them. We stand and fight, but that means all of us. Arm everyone who can swing an axe. Give everyone blades that they may protect themselves if the worst comes to pass. And prepare for the prospect of fire.”
“How?”
“Put the mothers and babes in the Long Hut. It is the most central part of the island. With luck, it’ll be too far for flaming arrows to reach. Thank Cernonnus that the leaves are not fully out on the trees at the wooded fringes. We may lose some but probably not all. The critical thing is to shoot the men down before they can get near to the walls to cut or burn them. The river on the eastern and northern edges will help there.”
As I told him all the things that my brother would employ to prevent catastrophe, Tallack’s expression grew more and more grave. The torches were burning low and the noise from the storm was deafening. I finished smearing plantain paste and binding Blydh’s head while Tallack poured himself a cup of ale.
“You think that we will lose?” He said, with grim resignation.
I shrugged. “Only the Morrighan has those answers, and we have no idea whether she favours us or Brea.” It was not a name I should have mentioned at that time. Just when I was starting to win back the affections of my nephews, I mentioned the woman who killed their father and got away with it unpunished due to my reluctance to speak out. “Better make sure that there are plenty of buckets next to the streams so people can start putting out blazes.” I said, qui
ckly changing the subject.
Tallack finished his ale. “Anything else?”
I thought for a moment, debating whether to tell him my suspicions over the devious Novantae Chief, Faolan. I’d heard nothing about him or Sorcha since my return from the moors. Having made the wrong decision before, I chose to confide in Tallack. “I think Faolan is plotting with the Duro’s behind our backs.”
Tallack stared directly into my eyes, but I held his gaze. This was no tall tale. I had the evidence from the young scout who saw the Skotek Chief riding with white banners away from our boats. I laid out the details of my suspicions and the possible reasons for their betrayal. Tallack listened with a solemn expression until I’d finished.
“He is a reliable scout; I know the lad well. If he says he saw Faolan with the colours of peace, then I believe him.” He said, slumping down on a stool by the fire. “What are we to do?”
“Are all the Novantae in camp right now?” I asked.
“No, Faolan sent Ealar back with some of his men to watch over the boats in the estuary. Why?”
“All the boats, your ship too?” I watched as the pieces fell into place inside his mind.
“You think Ealar was sent to take my ship?”
“I think he has a greater plan in mind. If he has made a pact with the Duros it can mean only one thing; Faolan will try to kill our family and then take over the whole tribe, our lands and our mines?”
“But we made a fair deal.” He whined. Sometimes I wish I was young and naive still.
I tried not to snort, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Faolan is only interested in Faolan. You think he cares if he breaks his word with us? We have few warriors and vast lands and wealth. What would you do in his place?”
Tallack stared at the floor, thinking through all the potential ways that Faolan could gain the upper hand. “I agreed to let his men defend my ship. All my warriors are here in camp.”
“Then send someone you trust to take a few strong men to secure it, or you’ll find that the Novantae are the proud owners of a swift Phoenician vessel and on their way home to Skotek.”
Tallack ran from my hut before I could discuss any further tactics with him. I needed to enlist more help, but Blydh was too weak to be left alone. If he was sick from the resin, he could choke. His arms and legs were still bound to stop him from scratching at his scalp. I stuck my head out between the door skins and shouted above the roar of the thunder. “Kewri!”
Bless him, he was under the goat shelter, soaked through. I sent him to fetch Cryda, Derwa and her Ordo husband, Glaw. While he was gone, I took a fair portion of the resin I had left, knowing that it would leave me short, and mixed it with a little water and crushed valerian root. Cryda hurried into my hut cursing me for daring to summon a former Ruvane in such a manner. She was followed by Derwa and Glaw not long after. All were genuinely concerned about Blydh and had no idea that I had to open his head for a second time. Cryda thought it was my reasoning behind fetching her. It was not.
“Cryda, do you have any of that Frynkish wine tucked away anywhere? It’s really important. If you have a secret stash, I must know at once.” The urgency and tremble in my voice made her sit up straight and pay attention. Panic kept me from succumbing to fatigue. My body ached but there were more important matters to attend to than sleep.
“I have a little left. Why do you need it?”
There wasn’t really time to explain my plan, but I knew that they would not help unless they were aware of all the threats ahead of us. I rattled through my suspicions and gave them the same evidence that I’d presented to Tallack.
They too came to the same conclusions. My relief at having secured their help did little to settle my churning gut. It took another cup of ale each before I’d laid out the full details of my hurried aims, but they were all keen to play their part. I just needed to catch up with Tallack and appraise him of my plan.
Leaving Kewri in charge of Blydh’s care for a while, I pulled on my cloak and went in search of my nephew. The new boardwalk was such a blessing now that the storm was creating puddles the size of huts around the place. If only there was time to complete all that were needed.
Scampering down towards the southern gates, I passed the horse pen where the white hart stood regarding me. Where once his antlers stood proud, there were now pink nubs. Their loss seemed to make the stag more docile. Although still wary of people passing by, it did not startle nor flee as I approached. Lifting the soggy cloth of my hood from my eyes, I looked at the beast with great reverence. “If you are the spirit of Cernonnus, guide all my kin to victory and I will find a way to set you free.”
He raised his head and treated me to a long soft grunt, his ribs tightened and his breath fogged the air about his nose. This was not a buck in panic, nor warning me to back away. The God of Death had accepted my bargain. Almost distracted from my mission, I stood in the rain for far too long thinking about his unusual white fur and pink skin around his nostrils. He was the mystical connection to the gods, sent just for me. After a short time, something spooked him and he moved off into the trees at the side of the enclosure.
I turned around to see what had alarmed him. The warrior maiden who almost caved in my head with an axe was watching me. I hadn’t seen her about the camp for a while, but then I hadn’t been looking out for her. Slopping through the mud, she joined me on the boardwalk.
“I just wanted to say that I wasn’t aiming for you that day. I hope you know that and I am sorry if it scared you.” Despite her apology, the offending weapons were all about her. A bow and quiver hung from strapping across her back, a blade rested at her belt and she held the very axe that almost took off my head. She was an impressive young woman, older than some of the other recruits and less fleshy. I imagine that she would be a formidable foe and was glad to have her fighting with our tribe instead of against us.
“I know you never meant me harm, but I thank you for saying it nonetheless.” My errand was urgent, but something stopped me from moving on. This maiden had hidden talents, of that I was sure. “What do folk call you?”
She smiled, glancing down at her weapon, almost in embarrassment. “Senara, Fur Benyn.”
“Born of the Dumnonii?” I squinted at her, concentrating on any trace of falsehood in her response.
“Parents are homesteaders east of Dartmoor.”
That was good to hear. She was of our tribe and used to tough conditions. I had no doubt that she knew the land around our compound better than most of our warriors. “Can you ride?”
“As well as any. I can shoot a squirrel out of the tallest trees and from a running start.” She puffed out her chest and jutted her chin forwards.
“Can you sneak up on a fellow without them hearing?” I asked with a view to co-opting her into my battle campaign.
“On men and boys, easily. Maybe less so for stags like him.” She pointed to my godly spirit and grinned at me. She’d been watching me interact with the beast and formed opinions of her own. I liked this Senara. She could be invaluable to my plans.
“Would you be prepared to take orders from an old lady?”
The grin didn’t falter. “Rather that, than be bossed about by those kyjyan men.”
That was all the confirmation I needed. I picked out a horse for her to take and handed her a little tin for her troubles. Before she mounted the pony, I gave her my instructions and shouted up to the southern watchmen to let her come and go as she pleased. They obeyed without question.
When the huge gates swung open, I saw Tallack walking across the shallow section of the tributary close to where Renowden, Treeve and a few Sea Warriors were boarding a row boat further downstream. I had a feeling that he would choose them to protect his Phoenician craft. Renowden was completely trustworthy. I was less sure of Treeve.
Tallack hastened through the opening just as Senara cantered out into the tributary and across the wide clearing where the recruits trained on chalkier ground. We strode along the raised
planking towards the Long Hut discussing Tallack’s part in the evening to come.
“Do you think that’s the reason why the Duros have held back from attacking?” He asked me before we could be overheard by the guards on duty outside the Chief’s hut.
“Faolan’s offer coupled with this rotten storm. If their only weapon against us is fire, then it makes sense to wait until the thatch and fences are dry.”
“Treacherous Kyjyan. After all that time we spent up there with his tribe too. I really thought we’d made an ally for life.”
“Can’t count on anyone except your own clan. Even then, best not to make assumptions, especially in light of Wenna’s betrayal.”
Tallack twisted his mouth to one side, nodding. By the time we reached the back door to the Long Hut, Cryda, Derwa and her husband were already inside chatting with our visitors. I let Tallack enter first. The moment he saw Faolan and Sorcha, he gave them the broadest smile and offered his arm in greeting to the old Chief.
“This is a day of joy. My aunt has returned and Blydh has survived a second treatment to his skull.” He sat in Blydh’s wolf chair so that he could be closer to Faolan. “We should celebrate, ay mother?”
Cryda knew this to be her cue to speak. “Indeed, son. Shall I break open the last jug of Frynkish wine?”
Faolan looked at the ale in his cup. “Not on my account, my lady. I am content with beer.”
“Nonsense, we should drink to Blydh’s good health. Only the finest wines for our esteemed guests.” Tallack bellowed, until all the elders and warriors in the hut could hear. They stomped and cheered, making Faolan look rude for rejecting the offer.
“Aye, well, I could take a little nip if it’s as good as you say.” Faolan sniffed, sinking down the remnants of his ale and holding out his cup.