by Sam Taw
My heart sank. They had taken too much. Those poor young trees would never survive the next winter. “Ho there!” I called to them. Dutifully, they dropped their baskets, expecting me to give them more orders. “Who asked you to take all this bark?” I knew the answer as soon as the question left my mouth, but I needed confirmation.
“The new Ruvane, Endelyn sent us, Fur Benyn.” One called out across the expanse of the river.
I shook my head at the priestess’s stupidity. These saplings were the closest source of alder for my medicines. With the latest infestation of lice, I was in need of a fair amount of bark myself, not to mention the sticky, sap coated leaves to trap the fleas from the floor rushes. “What about the trees yonder?” I gestured upstream where another such bank of mature trees grew.
The slaves shook their heads. “We harvested those this morning.” One shouted back.
It was my own stupid fault. I’d recommended the deep ochre colour for Endelyn’s bridal gown, but how was I to know that she would take enough bark to dye the clothes of the entire tribe? I left them to carry their plunder back to the compound and chided myself for speaking before thinking. There was half our tribe scratching about to find enough to eat and the priestess was wasting the slaves’ time making dyes. They should all be out gathering roots, mending fishing nets or collecting shellfish for the pot.
I wandered further upstream for some time without finding anything of use before turning my pony and heading home. We would have to endure the fleas and lice for the time being it seemed. My slow trot back through the forest put me in the path of a team of warriors. As far as I could tell, they were a mixture of Head Hunters and Sea Warriors, all hard at work felling trees and weaving hurdles. Most were young and looked ill equipped to swing an axe. Their spindly arms and narrow shoulders had not the strength for the task. At the furthest end of the group stood the young Hunter from the clan trials, Skentel.
Stopping to admire their determination, the man approached me. “You shouldn’t be out alone, Fur Benyn.” He said, clutching the reins of my pony. “There are some desperate folk about. Chased a couple off myself earlier.”
I tittered. “I have nothing left of value for them to steal.”
“You have a horse, good linen, and I dare say a blade or two tucked about your person. That’s more than enough to get your throat slit.”
I looked him up and down, frowning. There was a calm confidence about him, not a swagger like Kitto, but an authoritative air that was seldom seen in one so young. He took my lack of response as a plea for help. “I’ll walk back with you to the island. At least I’ll rest easy knowing you got home safely.” I turned and looked at the group of youngsters hacking lumps out of the trees. He seemed to comprehend my thoughts without the need to voice them. “I’m not slacking off, Fur Benyn. The Chief put me in charge of them. We are to remain behind, keep order and oversee the new buildings.” Skentel yelled at the youths, informing them of his intentions.
“Won’t they down tools the moment your back is turned?” I asked, astounded at their compliance.
“Nah. They’re good men. I told them that if they built their muscles quickly enough, the Chief might change his mind and allow them to go with him to the mines.”
“And how long do they have to reach peak fitness?”
“Chief Tallack told me that he intends to leave on the morning tide.” His grin was delicious. Had I been a number of summers younger, I would have relished a night or two beneath his furs. We shared a conspiratorial chuckle together as he walked alongside my pony, avoiding the worst of the dry fissures in the fractured earth. How had I missed the presence of such a sharp-witted lad in the compound for all this time? I knew him by sight, but to my recollection I’d never treated him for sickness or wounds in all his days amongst us.
“What else did my nephew tell you?” It stung that I knew nothing of Tallack’s plans. I’d spent my entire life wishing that I could be rid of the burden of having Chieftain blood, be away from the constant turmoil and strife, but when my wish was granted without warning, it upset me. I was no longer in the Chief’s inner circle of advisers. Endelyn and Treeve had taken my place. Breathing steadily, I managed to hold back my emotions at this revelation, keen to hear this clever man’s take on my nephew’s plan.
“We’re to return at nightfall for a bowl of stew in the Long Hut. I gather the Chief wants to make an announcement, but I think we’ve all guessed what that will be.” He glanced up at me and sneered.
“Kitto?”
“Yeah. It makes sense. He’s taken more heads than the rest of us combined, although some might say through the luck of the gods more than skill. There will come a day when he can no longer cut through enemies with sheer force.”
I smiled to myself. Skentel was perceptive enough to wait for that day before challenging the mighty warrior. He was in possession of some admirable traits, being both patient and strategic. There were now two potential threats to Tallack’s leadership and I didn’t envy my nephew’s chances for long-term success.
We chatted amiably all the way back to the compound, stopping every once in a while, to gather what hardy plants I could from the side of the track. He told me that Tallack and his crewmen planned to sail to Bentewyn, where the largest of our tin mines were located, while the Head Hunters rode across land. With that many warriors at his back, Skentel claimed that Tallack was confident of overthrowing the Alchemists within a quarter moon.
I held my gaze steady, lest he should detect my doubt. Was this the entirety of my nephew’s plan? He was simply going to charge in and ask Kenver for our mines back. Had he forgotten the trouble his half-sister, Wenna had attacking the same valley just one summer ago? The entire settlement was deeply embedded in the woodlands, the access points narrow and sheltered. It was a perfect spot to slaughter all invaders before they could get within fifty boat lengths of the mines.
If this was what Tallack had in store for his men, Skentel and his little crew of spindly boys would be the only warriors left by the next full moon. How could I make my nephew understand my misgivings if he no longer sought my counsel?
I thanked Skentel for his protection and rode through camp to Ren’s hut. He was asleep inside, wearing little more than a loin cloth. His ribs were still too prominent, but there was some colour in his face. More than anything, the poor man needed good food and lots of rest, but neither were possible.
What food remained in camp was cooked at the Long Hut fire pits and distributed evenly to all the tribe. Only the homesteaders failed to abide by our sense of fair play. They hoarded and stole and kept whatever they could scavenge for themselves. I couldn’t blame them. They’d spent a lifetime around the moors or along the borderlands fending off attack from the Duros. Their will to survive in such harsh conditions left little room for community customs such as sharing.
“Ren?” I spoke softly, trying not to startle him from his nap. Creeping closer, I could see the sweat shining on his skin, his heart beat pulsed between his ribs. He was skinnier than the camp dogs. I touched his shoulder and he awoke with a start. His taut frown relaxed when he saw it was me.
“What is it? Has something happened?” He sat up and pawed at my arm.
“No, not yet, but I fear it will if we can’t talk some sense into my nephew.” I sat on the edge of his bunk as he lay back down and rubbed at his eyes.
“What’s he done now? It’s not another pointless contest is it?”
I screwed up my face, bewildered. “You mean he hasn’t told you that he’s leaving on the morning tide?” This was worse than I feared. Tallack relied on Ren’s superior navigation skills, not to mention his talent for diplomacy in tricky situations. If he’d cut Ren out of his circle of advisers too, we were all in grave danger. I started explaining all that I’d learned from Skentel while my friend splashed cold water on his face, slipped on a pair of leggings and a loose tunic, and prepared himself to approach the Long Hut with me.
It was dusk when
we arrived at the main door and the place was already packed with warriors and elders. The sticky heat amplified the musky stink of so many men crammed into the room. We pushed past the warriors standing at the back until we could see those sitting at the top table. Tallack’s mother teetered on the very edge of the platform, cradling her babe while sitting on a tiny stool. In her former place, at her son’s side sat Treeve with a self-satisfied grin fixed across his plump face. The priestess sat on a fur cushion in the tall wolf’s head chair where my dead nephew once sat. Her eyes stayed firmly on the fierce shield maiden to her left, Senara.
So, this is how it would be, our Metern and new Ruvane of the Dumnonii, shunning their family and advisers before the binding ceremony could make it official. I stood on tip-toe to see over the heads of the elders in front of me. The central Ruvane chair was gone. In its place lay a wooden crib, bedecked in ochre coloured bedding. As if any of us needed reminding that Endelyn carried the heir to the tribe. These four duplicitous youngsters, held all our lives in their hands.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ren and I struggled towards the top table, stepping over young and old who were gathered to hear Tallack’s announcement. The heat was beyond oppressive, yet my nephew thought it sensible to make the slaves serve the food before he spoke. They passed bowls of thin stew through the back door from the cooking huts and slid them down the tables until every man had their allotted portion. The top table dined on roasted birds. From the smell, I would say it was goose.
Endelyn picked on a few morsels while the rest tucked in as though they hadn’t eaten in a quarter moon. Can’t say that I blame them, their platters looked delicious; tender meats and juicy roots all bathed in a rich gravy. My small table in front of them, did not receive the same lavish meal.
As my stew cooled, a film of grease hardened at the edges of the bowl. I ate it nonetheless and was grateful. My wasted day of foraging had given me an appetite. When Skentel and his young warriors arrived from the woods, those sitting near to the back made room for them at one of the tables. There was just enough food left to fill their bowls as Tallack stood to address the crowd.
His face was still raw from his encounter with Kitto, but I admit to being proud of the neat little line of stitches crossing his eyebrow. Considering the battering he’d taken; he was remarkably cheery. “I called you all here tonight to hear my decision with regard to clan leadership. You already know that I’ve appointed Massen as my successor within the Sea Warriors. As we sit here, he and his crewmen are making my fine ship and the other remaining vessel, ready for the next voyage, but more on that later.” He coughed, breaking his concentration. Endelyn leaned forward in the wolf’s head chair. Tallack caught the movement in the corner of his eye, turning to gaze into her pale blue eyes. He was transfixed. She gave him a little nod of encouragement, which prompted him to face us once again and continue.
“The Head Hunter trials were fought valiantly and they proved beyond doubt that we Dumnonii have the best warriors in the whole land. Kitto certainly gave me a tough time…” He grinned touching the bruises to his jaw and making everyone chuckle. “But it was not a fair bout. By all rights, Kitto should have won.” I held my breath. Was the idiotic man going to admit to Endelyn’s treachery? What could possibly be achieved by revealing the truth to our whole tribe? Kitto glared from the side benches. His men peered around them waiting for the Chief to explain.
“No, Kitto was not at his best. An ague of the gut gave me an unfair advantage. He is a formidable warrior and one I am honoured to have at my side helping me to defend our lands and our people from those who would attack or betray us.” The men roared and cheered, thumping their fists down on the table and stamping their feet on the hard floor. Tallack raised his hands to quieten the rabble. “With Kitto leading the Hunters and Massen taking charge of the seas, let this be a time when we fight together as one people and one tribe, against all who threaten our existence.”
The Chief wafted his hand towards Kitto, inviting him to stand and take his share of the praise. This he did with an exaggerated flourish, tutting and waving coyly, but there was a flush to his cheeks above his wry smile. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out his expression. Had he learned of the priestess’s mischief or was he genuinely pleased to remain subordinate to my nephew? Ren and I exchange knowing looks, both fearing the worst.
I noticed as the warrior passed me, that his wounds were clean and stitched, though not by my hand. He must have asked one of the weaver women to tend them.
Tallack turned to me. “Aunt Mel, I need the dagger I lent you.”
I should have remembered where I’d seen it before. As it happened, I carried the knife with me after Skentel’s warning about desperate folk who might slice open my throat. Now I would be wholly without protection. I stood and passed the blade to my nephew.
He snatched it from me and turned back to Kitto. “This was the oath blade given to me by my father, the great Aebba the Wild. By rights, you should have my brother’s dagger, but its whereabouts following Blydh’s death remains a mystery.” He turned the knife in his hand until the bone handle was directed at the warrior. They locked eyes for a moment. The whole room fell silent, wondering if Kitto would accept the binding oath of clan leadership. Had Tallack done enough to assure Kitto’s loyalty or had he handed him a blade with which to cut him down?
My temples pulsed with the tension and the overbearing heat. The tip of the blade was directly opposite Tallack’s heart. Ren clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, preparing himself to act. Just when I was beginning to think that it would mark our downfall, Kitto reached out and took the knife. Without pausing, he ran the sharp edge across the width of his palm until it oozed with blood. Spinning the dripping blade about, he returned the knife to our Chief. Tallack did the same. When they raised their palms together, I began to relax, at least for now.
“Do you swear to lead the Hunter Clan with wisdom, honesty and courage, to follow my orders, defend our people, our land and our ways until your dying breath?” Tallack pushed hard against Kitto’s palm, making him counter the pressure with his own. Their hands leaked with the mingled red humours.
“I swear. You have my blood oath, Chief.”
The elders and warriors renewed their cheering and stamping. Tallack grinned and passed the bloodied dagger back to Kitto. As the warrior wiped the knife clean and tucked it into his belt, I wondered just how seriously he’d taken the part about following Tallack’s orders. They were riding into battle of one sort or another and accidents do happen. I’ve lost count how many men I have stitched over the seasons from wounds inflicted by one of our own, deliberate or otherwise.
When the racket calmed to a dull roar, Kitto sat down. Tallack took a sip of something from his cup. If it was ale, then he had more stashed away than I’d thought.
Tallack remained on his feet. “Whether it is common knowledge or not, one of our clans has deceived us.” The Chief waited for the elders to react. Some nodded having already heard the news, others flicked their heads about assessing who among them were in possession of this volatile information. “You heard right, my friends. The Alchemists have turned against us. They have denied us all access to our tin and killed those messengers sent to make peace with them.” The elders gasped, the warriors mumbled, shuffling about as though they were expected to fight there and then.
It wasn’t strictly true, of course. Not all our messengers were killed or we should never have heard about their rebellion. I understood why Tallack garnished the facts though. We needed all the support of the tribe to retake the tin mines.
“This summer’s drought and the raging heath fires are a warning that the gods are angry with us.” Tallack glanced backwards and held out his hand to the priestess. She used his sign of affection as an excuse to stand by his side and cling to his arm. What was he doing blaming the gods? The moors were parched, just like everywhere else in this wretched heat. Fires were only a matter of time.
/> “This is their way of telling us that we have been too lenient… complacent even, with our mining clan. Our grain stores are empty, the deer and boar have fled, the crops are burned, and we have no tin to trade. None of us will survive the winter unless we act now. The gods are telling us to retake our land by force and punish those who have broken their vow of allegiance. Now who among you will stand with me and rid us of these treacherous foes?”
The men were now so accustomed to cheering, they were barely listening. They all sprang to their feet and yelled their support, punching the air and waving short swords and cups about in the cramped space.
“Hunters ride out with Kitto; sailors join Massen in the estuary, elders send your boys to the forge. We’ll need all our men in this fight.” As soon as Tallack had finished speaking, the warriors jostled and barged their way out into the night air to make their preparations.
Ren got up from the bench and faced my nephew “I assume you want Meliora and me to sail with you, Chief?”
Before Tallack could reply, Endelyn piped up. “There won’t be room for you. Senara and I will be travelling on his ship.”
This was news to Tallack. He stepped away from her and frowned. “We’re going into battle. It’s no place for a woman like you.” I knew what he meant. She was untrained, frail and ill-equipped to deal with the rough conditions ahead.
The priestess pouted, glowering in my direction. “How come she gets to go and not me?”
Tallack inhaled slowly and let out a noisy sigh. “I need you and mother to stay behind to prepare for the binding ceremony. Someone has to greet the Duro girl when she arrives, make her feel welcome.”