Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5)

by Sam Taw

  I shot Treeve a shrivelling look. He ignored me, sticking his nose into the air and hugging Endelyn. How could I have been so foolish? Far from being a potential threat to the priestess, the pair were plotting together all along.

  Before I could wrap my brain around how Endelyn persuaded the crewman to abandon hopes of becoming the first male Ruvane and support her instead, I was distracted by my nephew’s grunts. Rather than ending the bout and claiming his victory, our Chief had decided to pound Kitto’s face into the same bloody mess as his own. Talk about make matters worse. The warrior was unconscious, addled into a resin filled haze.

  Ren dashed into the ring and grabbed Tallack’s wrist, holding it high and proclaiming him the winner of the bout. At least that put an end to the whole farce. I couldn’t decide whether I was pleased at the outcome or furious. My family were still leaders of the tribe, our lives spared for another day, but at what price? Would the Head Hunters be as suspicious as Ren and I or had Treeve dosed them too? I slumped back down on the bench and rubbed my forehead.

  Cryda wandered closer, with a smug grin plastered across her face. “See, Meliora. I told you he would win. My son is the best warrior in all the lands.”

  I scanned her face, judging her level of sincerity. The poor woman believed every misguided word escaping her mouth. How could she not see what had happened before her very eyes? Tallack leaned on Ren in front of the crowd. Only a faint show of foot stamping came from the Sea Warriors, none from the homesteaders nor Head Hunters. Far from uniting our clans, the trials had broken them beyond repair.

  Now who would lead the Head Hunters? If we were to take back control over our mines, we needed every able-bodied man fighting as one, not bickering amongst themselves or second guessing Tallack’s orders. Worse still, what would Kitto do once he’d recovered? Would he take his revenge on Tallack when he least expected attack or wait until he could gain the favour of our whole tribe?

  I sidled past the elders’ benches to sneak a quiet word with the sulking Kewri. Leading him to a thicket near to the stream, I spoke in earnest to my giant of a friend. “I know I have no right to order you to do anything for me, but what I ask of you now is of the utmost importance.”

  He looked at me with wide and frightened eyes and nodded his consent.

  “You must protect the Chief’s life as though it were your own. Do you understand? You cannot let him out of your sight for a single moment.”

  For such a brooding dolt, there were times when he was often quite shrewd. He flicked his gaze over to the Chief and then at the Head Hunters, who were lolling about on the parched grass at the far side of the circle. They were all a potential threat to Tallack’s safety, and although it would be impossible for one man to protect him against every single warrior, I knew that he would try. Kewri lowered his stare to the floor and nodded again. It was, perhaps, unfair of me to ask it of him but there was no one else I could trust.

  Ren blew the horn and announced that Tallack would inform the elders of his decisions in the morning. That gave us a chance to patch him up and talk some sense into him. The most immediate crisis may have been averted, but we were all far from secure in our positions.

  Endelyn looked positively put out when the elders joined us in shooing everyone to their respective huts. The homesteaders were bawdy and boisterous, having had few opportunities to gather in such large crowds for similar events before. The novelty was beguiling, tipping them towards bickering and infighting themselves. For once, the Sea Warriors were the only sobering influence in the entire tribe. They took their cues from Massen and kept order in our place.

  When, at last, I was able to battle my way through the stragglers to my nephew, he could hardly stand with the pain. His poor face was a ragged mess of cuts and bruises, his nose misshapen and bleeding. He clutched his middle with a tenderness that gave me some insight into his level of agony, but to give him his due, he did not murmur once.

  Kewri and Ren walked either side of the Chief to the western gate just in case he collapsed, sparing him the indignity of being carried. We left Kitto on the ground where he fell. His clan would see to him when they came down from their addled state. Treeve fell in behind them, alongside me and Endelyn, all of us instinctively closing rank to protect my nephew. The Chief’s hut was closer than mine. Kewri stood guard in the doorway while Ren scurried off to collect my healing kit.

  The priestess stayed for mere moments before excusing herself. “I must give an offering to the gods to speed his recovery.” She was almost back out of the door as she spoke, such was her haste to leave. Perhaps that was part of her deal with Treeve to garner his support, that when it came to something as personal as nursing Tallack back to health, only he could stay at the Chief’s side. Whatever the situation may have been, we saw nothing more from her all that night.

  I stitched and bathed, pasted and wrapped what parts of my nephew I could, but he was in a bad way. That made two of my most favourite men in the world laid low. Poor Ren looked gaunter than ever. His strength failed him when the moon was at its peak, but still, he wouldn’t leave. Treeve laid his furs down on the rushes for Ren to rest on, while the young crewman and I kept Tallack’s bindings cool with fresh water from the spring.

  Cryda alternated between dashing to her hut to feed the babe before leaving her with the slave so that she could check on her other child. “Oh, Meliora. His beautiful face is ruined.” She sobbed, when she caught sight of the wounds as I changed the dressings.

  “Looks worse than it is. Don’t fret so. He’ll have a scar or two, but that’ll make him all the more mysterious and worldly. I dare say we won’t love him any less.” I winked at Treeve, who suppressed a giggle. Perhaps I have misjudged that young crewman. For all his manipulations, his love for my nephew is steadfast. In the middle of a balmy summer’s night, at that very moment in time, I felt mightily ashamed of my assumptions. I can’t condone his and Endelyn’s foolish scheme, but given the stubbornness of my nephew, what else could they do? I redressed the gashes absently, deep in my own thoughts.

  Ren touched my arm. “What do you think he’ll do with Kitto in the morning?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a puzzle, that’s for sure.” We sat in silence for a time, ruminating over the issue. “We should have talked him out of the trials.”

  “Like that was an option.” Ren snapped, pulling a face. He was right. Ever since his twin’s death, no one had attempted to contradict my nephew’s bizarre decisions. Blydh had always been the voice of reason when Tallack’s head was filled with adventure and bold ideas, at least up until the end. Perhaps Tallack was rudderless without his brother. I knew how close they’d been, even when they were at each other’s throats. Now he was surrounded by people who had their own ambitions prioritised above those of the tribe’s. The more Endelyn and Treeve sank their hooks into him, the less he listened to the advice of elders such as me.

  Ren laid back in the furs and beckoned me closer. He seemed to think that his frustrations had hurt my feelings. I sighed and joined him on the rushes, letting him envelop his bony arms around me.

  “We should have let Tallack kill Kitto while we had the chance. It’s the only way out of this mess.” I whispered, making sure that neither my nephew nor his slumbering crewman could hear me. Ren didn’t answer. He just clung tightly until we were both fast asleep. As weak as he was, I still felt safe with him by my side, and with Kewri laying in front of the door, there was no way that Kitto nor the Head Hunters would be able to sneak in and slaughter us while we slept.

  It was long past dawn when we stirred. Kewri woke us, coughing loudly from the doorway to warn us that Tallack had left the hut. By the time Ren and I had shaken off the confusion of awaking in a strange room, my nephew and friend were already far across the compound. My poor bladder was fit to burst, but I had to know what Tallack planned to do.

  “Where’s he going?” I muttered, more to myself than anyone in particular. Ren and I watched Tallack and Kewri stomp dow
n the boardwalks to the Head Hunter tents; stopping every little while so that the Chief could shoo the giant away. May the gods bless that lad, he would not be dissuaded from the mission I had laid before him. Kewri stuck to him like birch tar on a fletcher’s thumb. When they reached the largest tent of the last row next to the freshest end of the tributary, they disappeared inside.

  “He’s going to speak with Kitto.” Ren said, grabbing my hand to speed my progress. He almost yanked my arm off, hurrying me along until my feet were practically airborne. It was fortuitous that the morning was so warm. The tent flaps were pinned wide open to allow a gentle breeze to funnel through.

  By the time we were level with the doorway, Tallack was standing in front of Kitto while he sat on the stool bucket. The stench was inescapable, the noises almost comedic. Kewri stifled a snort of mirth, clapping his hand over his mouth and nose to avoid the brunt of the smell.

  Tallack maintained a dignified frown. “You are not well, my friend.” My nephew nodded towards the profusion of liquids gushing from the warriors back end. “I came to commend you on a trial well fought and lost, but I see you need time to recover. It explains why I was victorious in yesterday’s bout. You are the superior warrior.”

  Was I hearing him correctly? Tallack was admitting that Kitto should have won the fight? I opened my mouth and started forward but Ren pulled me back.

  Before I could struggle free from his grasp, Kitto peered up at the Chief and smiled. “You won, Chief. I bow to your grace.” His cheeks flushed. Whether that was from the vile humours flowing from his bowels, his blooming facial bruises or embarrassment, I could not say, but he seemed to be placated by Tallack’s high praise.

  “I won because you were not at full fitness. I’ll send my aunt to give you one of her tinctures. When you are rested and well, we’ll announce your elevation to clan leadership together.”

  The two warriors regarded one another for a moment, both sporting swollen eyes, blackened cheeks and bent noses. At length, Kitto nodded. “It would be my honour.”

  Ren reached over and pushed my chin upwards, closing my gaping mouth. Was that it? No brawling, or arguments, no calling Tallack out as a cheat or charlatan, just an amicable settling of differences? The Chief and Kewri stepped outside to find us lurking.

  “Ah, there you are, Aunt. Were you listening to my private conversation in there?” He squinted at me and sighed. “Honestly, Aunt Mel, you have got to stop treating me like a child.” He stormed off down the boardwalk with poor Kewri spinning about not knowing whether he was coming or going. “And call off your dog! I don’t need protecting.” Tallack yelled, halting the giant in his tracks. Ren and I wandered back towards my hut with Kewri dragging his heels behind us.

  “Was Kitto genuinely sick after all?” Ren whispered.

  I thought about the missing poppy resin and my scattered herbs. It was a fair assumption that Endelyn had taken more than valerian when she distracted Vina in my hut. The dried blackthorn flowers were strewn everywhere. They are known to loosen the bowels to an unwelcome extent. “No, Ren. I think the warrior was given a special concoction mixed just for him alone.”

  “Do you think he knows that he was dosed? He could be biding his time and planning revenge.”

  “I guess I shall find out later when I take him some medicine to staunch the flux.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The sensible thing to do would have been to send Vina with the tonic to Kitto’s tent. She would be received as nothing more than my messenger, fulfilling the Chief’s request to treat his ailment. Ren offered to accompany me, but he was not fit enough to fight against a warrior of Kitto’s strength, even one who could barely get up from the bucket.

  “Go, get some food down you and rest.” I said, dismissing Ren’s kindness with the flick of my wrist. “Kitto is not likely to attack a weakling elder like me. There’s no honour in that. Besides, I want him to let his guard down. I might learn something of value.” In truth, I was still giddy from relief having avoided catastrophe the night before. That kind of turnabout in events tends to embolden your senses.

  Ren puffed and postured for a while, grunting and muttering with frustration. “There is just no arguing with you, is there?”

  “Better get used to that.” I said, before I’d even thought the implications through. My presumption that we would become a couple was obvious to all. Vina and Kewri’s eyebrows rose on their foreheads, both smirking and giggling. I couldn’t take it back. It was already spoken. Ren said nothing, but his grin brought a rosy glow to my cheeks.

  I scooped up my bag and the blackthorn bark tea and scuttled off as though I’d been scalded. The irony was not lost on me as I walked back towards the Head Hunter’s tents. It was blackthorn flowers that had scoured his innards and it would be blackthorn bark that would soothe them. Endelyn knew far more about my craft than she’d ever let on. I would have to watch her more closely from now on. The question remained though; had Kitto realised that his ailment was not some ague but a deliberate affliction?

  I stood outside his tent and took a breath of fresh air before entering. The stench was so overpowering, it made my eyes water. Holding out the cup of steaming tea at arm’s length I spoke through the sleeve of my tunic. “The Chief sent me. This should calm things down for you.”

  He was in a shocking state. His taut, bruised skin shone with perspiration; his shoulders slumped as he tilted his head up to see me. “Thank you, Fur Benyn. That was kind of you.” Where I’d seen a braggart and bully the night before, I now saw a pale and broken man.

  My defences softened and I chose my words carefully to avoid suspicion. “If you’re in pain, I can fix you some willow tea in just a moment…” I took out a handful of bark from my pocket and presented it to him.

  Kitto shook his head. “I can handle pain, Fur Benyn.” He took the tonic and peered up at me with sorrowful eyes. It was then I realised the extent of his dilemma. He’d worked hard on building a reputation within his clan; a respected elder statesman and warrior, feared by all who crossed his path. The previous night’s events saw him staggering about after drinking only a couple of cups of ale. If that was not enough of an embarrassment, he had passed out after taking a beating from a man half his age and size.

  If he was aware of the priestess’s plan, he would’ve been beyond angry. No bout of the squits would stop him from wreaking his revenge. I saw no sign of fury or belligerence. Endelyn and Treeve appeared to have scraped through undetected.

  A gash on his brow oozed with pus. I gestured towards it, shame bursting in my chest. “Will you at least let me see to that cut? It’ll fester if it’s not cleaned and stitched.”

  “I’ll stop by your hut later, if that’s acceptable. You can’t be expected to tend my wounds while I’m like this.”

  My stomach lurched. Despite all that Endelyn and Treeve had put him through, and the respect he’d lost, he still showed me more respect than my own kin. For just a moment, I almost believed that our tribe would be better off having Kitto as our leader, were it not for the possibility of him taking off my head in the process.

  I dithered for a while, wondering whether to hold my breath and treat his wounds there and then, but my nose made my decision for me. I left the warrior alone with his woes and headed north towards home.

  Before I had left the Head Hunter’s camp, I spotted Tallack leaving another tent further along the row. He wore a wide smile as he bounded along the boardwalk in front of me. I walked on the dry earth, keeping my footsteps light and unheard, curious as to his carefree manner.

  The entire area was packed with displaced homesteaders, idle crewmen and gossiping elders’ wives. We were out of grain, with no tin or jewels to trade for more and we had lost control of our mines. Even the fishermen returned from the bay with empty boats. What was there to smile about? After all young Treeve had done for my nephew, I hoped to the gods that he’d not found another young warrior to warm his bed. It was the only explanation for Tallac
k’s jovial mood.

  I followed him right up to the Long Hut, but broke off my pursuit when I saw him aiming for his mother’s house. Still, the thought of him betraying the young sailor, right under his nose prayed on my mind for the rest of the morning. That nephew of mine is simply incapable of being true to one love. It must be a trait from his mother’s side. Her flights of fancy have left her in hot water many a time.

  Vina and Kewri were screaming at one another across my hut when I returned. Groaning, I spun about and walked straight back out before they could invent a reason for me to stay. Scanning the island made my head spin. Everywhere you looked, people bickered and argued over space, or livestock. Shelters and fences sprouted in the few gaps between houses until the compound was bursting at the seams.

  I stuck my head through the doorway of Kewri’s shelter and sighed. My herd had dwindled to just three goats, two of which no longer gave milk. It was like holding back a flood with your hands. No matter what measures I put in place to protect them, the homesteader’s need for food was greater than respecting another’s property.

  With an ever-growing clamour in camp, I needed to get away and clear my head. I collected my old pony from the enclosure and trotted out of the western gate heading north. A half day of foraging would put me straight and replenish my stocks. I took the narrow path through the woods alongside the main course of the River Exe. Other than the snorts and whickers of my pony, the forest was curiously silent. I saw a few tiny birds, but other than those, the entire area was deserted. Had our Hunters killed most of the creatures and driven the rest away?

  The track was riven with huge cracks and the tufted grasses were sun-scorched and dry. I did find a few useful herbs along the bank side but not all that I needed. This dry spell was proving more of a challenge than I’d anticipated. As I broke the cover of the woodland on my way to the crossing, I saw a group of compound slaves carrying huge baskets laden with curling sections of bark. Behind them, a row of alder trees was stripped bare of bark, twigs and all lower leaves; their naked trunks left pale and vulnerable.