by Sam Taw
As it was, I spotted some fresh shoots of mallow growing on the way back and stopped to gather some. When I had finished my task, Kewri caught up with me, carrying the fur and a wooden shovel. We wandered the rest of the way without speaking, keeping our eyes on the track ahead and holding in the tears.
The gate and bridge were as we left them when we returned. The only difference from before was the noise of the crowds. It seemed that everyone was out of their huts to join in the bustle and clamour. Tallack stood tall in the centre of the gathering, his hands held up in an attempt to calm down an angry man in front of him. As we moved closer, I could hear what they were saying.
“You can’t just throw some tin in my direction and expect me to be happy.” The livid elder ranted. “It was my best horse and a good breeder. Tin cannot replace something as precious as that.”
Another man stepped forward to voice his fury. “You’re not the only one who had stuff stolen. He took my biggest knife, a good tunic and my best leggings from the washing.”
“Please, men, I have heard your complaint and it will be resolved in time.” Tallack said, but it opened the way for others to pitch in and claim losses whether they were genuine or not. The discussion descended into chaos within moments. Who could have rampaged through the compound stealing such strange items without anyone noticing?
I moved away from the commotion and surveyed the island. The horse pen was secured, the eastern, western and southern gates all closed and watched from the towers. It was when my old eyes fell on the small hatch that provided access to Paega’s cage that everything made sense. My nephew had escaped and bolted through the northern gate as soon as it was opened.
My emotions went through several stages in rapid succession; first elation that he was liberated from such a pitiful existence, then fear that he would be killed for his crime, and then finally panic. I had sent Kewri to give him scraps of food before turning into bed. In his grief and confusion, had he left the hatch open by mistake? What would Tallack do to him if he knew? I turned and grabbed Kewri’s sleeve, directing his attention to Paega’s cage.
His eyes widened and he sniffed in a large breath. “I have to own up, Fur Benyn. It’s all my fault.” A huge hand flew upwards, slapping his forehead in self-punishment.
“Stop that, now then.” I reached up to grab his upper arms, shaking some sense into him. “Tallack will understand given the circumstances.”
He fretted, pushing me away and pacing about thinking. After only a short while, he stood still and calmed himself. “I can fix this. He won’t have got far and he’s well known about these parts.” Kewri batted the elders and nagging wives aside until he was face to face with Tallack. “Chief, this is my fault. I’m sorry. I guess I forgot to latch the gate last night, but I can bring him back. Give me a chance to make things right.”
Tallack looked at the giant. He must have seen the determination in his eyes. “Fine. Do what you must, Kewri, and hurry back. My brother will be wild if he returns and finds Paega missing.” That was all it took to send my friend on his urgent mission, leaving Tallack to deal with the mass of shouting tribe’s folk.
I hurried into my hut and gathered what food I could find for him in a waxed wrap and met him outside the pony enclosure. With a few extra grains of tin in his pocket, he mounted the enormous cart horse and set off towards the northern end of the compound. “May the gods be with you, my friend.” I muttered, more to myself than anyone close by.
It took the better part of the afternoon for Tallack to appease all of those affected by Paega’s rampage through the compound, but eventually things returned to normal. Senara volunteered to help me with some of my chores, milking goats, feeding chickens, gathering bark and herbs for ointments and the like, but a growing sense of unease brewed inside my belly. I could feel that something was not right on the island but couldn’t put my finger on precisely what.
It was nice having a quiet day for once. We chatted and ate together, bound the plants in bunches and suspended them upside down from the roof timbers to dry. Later, we traded for some fresh fish for our supper. As we went about our business, I noticed that the priestess had amassed quite a following. She’d taken to holding rituals and ceremonies outside her hut, encouraging people to bring offerings to sacrifice and bless on their behalf. I must say, it’s an ingenious way to assure your meals.
By evening, I saw some burly Sea Warriors dragging in carved trunks of alder, ash and beech. Each bore different symbols and animal likenesses. One was painted in rich colours, with chalk dust and grease mixed with dyes from the weaver women. When they began digging post holes outside her shelter, I realised that she was creating a shrine to attract even more of our people to her door.
On the one hand, it made sense that we should have a central place to worship the gods and make offerings when it was impossible to make a trip to a stone circle, on the other I felt uncomfortable that Endelyn was deliberately trying to raise her status within the tribe. It reminded me of other ambitious womenfolk who thought they could push themselves forward in the past. No good came from their efforts and this would end just the same. I shook my head and made a conscious decision not to get involved in whatever she had planned.
At nightfall, Senara fidgeted on her stool by my fire. We’d eaten the fish with a little watercress and fresh bread and I was ready for sleep. She was not. She paced about my hut, offering to rinse our bowls in the stream, fetch wood, and all manner of other chores best done in daylight. It was when she ran to the doorway for the third time following an imagined sound, that I realised she was waiting for Kewri to return home safely. That endeared her to me even more.
“Would you like to sleep here in case he comes home in the middle of the night?” I said, tipping my head towards Kewri’s bunk.
She grinned and gave me a slow blink. “Am I that obvious?”
I didn’t answer. Stacking up the logs on the fire, I made sure the rushes were well away from the hot embers, tidied away the food bowls and leftovers, and got myself ready for bed. Just as I was getting comfy under my furs, her little voice called out to me.
“Kewri must have been extremely fond of that slave girl to go to all that trouble.”
I froze. The question I’d dreaded was on the tip of her tongue and I didn’t want to be the one to tell her.
“Were they lovers, Fur Benyn?”
I shut my eyes tight and held my breath. The creaking noises of the bunk she lay on told me that she was sitting up to get a clearer view of me in the firelight. I’m ashamed to say that I pretended to be asleep, faking mild snoring and tongue smacking noises in the gloom.
At dawn the whole camp was awoken by thunderous hooves, whooping warriors and squeals of delight. Blydh and his Head Hunter Clan had returned from their raid. Senara jumped out of Kewri’s bunk and rushed to the door in a fit of panic. I stayed under my furs, but I too was beyond anxious. How long would it take my nephew to realise that Paega had escaped, and what would he do to the person who’d set him free?
CHAPTER EIGHT
When I say, whooping and hollering, most of the noise came from Blydh and a couple of the younger clan members. Those older, wiser warriors behind them, were subdued. At the rear of the group, three horses carried the bodies of fallen men. The sight of their blood-stained clothing and severed limbs silenced everyone in camp.
One I knew well. He may have been a sickly child, but he’d grown into a strong and courageous warrior. His life was cut short by my nephew’s thoughtless and callous actions. At least he would be assured a seat in the Summerlands. I recognised the older man leading his horse too. It was the warrior’s father. The further into the camp they rode, the more people gathered around them, watching, weeping and grieving.
Blydh cantered through the island to the central point outside the Long Hut and jumped down from his horse. The beast was burdened with the bloodied heads taken in battle. The hair of his victims was woven together in a chain of meaty skulls, their tongu
es blackened with dried humours and mud. Blydh didn’t see me. The crowd was thick around him, obscuring his view.
A sick part of me was glad of the gruesome distraction. With such trophies on display, and the wailing from the kin of those departed, all thoughts of Paega’s escape was forgotten. Tallack stood at the entrance to the Long Hut, drawn out by the noise. He looked in my direction as I waited by my shelter and then made a great fuss of his brother. I took this to mean that he would keep Blydh drinking and celebrating victory for as long as he could.
I had no desire to join in the revelry. We were neither under attack nor had need to defend our land or people. The motivation for Blydh’s raid was spite and vengeance, and we paid the price with the lives of three of our best men. Our woodland was disappearing fast from the number of pyres built in recent times.
Senara pulled on the rest of her clothes and weapons and ran across the grass to hear Blydh regale his tale of bravery. I rekindled my fire and set about my chores. Before the morning was done, I’d tended to two shallow spear wounds to the belly, a broken nose and a severed finger. The unfinished shelter looked like the butcher’s hut by the time I’d finished. Each of the men I had treated tried to give me tin or grain in payment, but I couldn’t accept anything.
I felt responsible for their troubles. I had caused the loss of Blydh’s common sense. It was my fault that his judgement was impaired. They would not have followed him into such a foolish raid, if I had not used the sun disc to cover my nephew’s skull. As it was, I could barely look at them in the eye without tearing up.
As soon as the men were patched up, I watched them wander across the island to Endelyn’s new shrine to make offerings to the gods. She welcomed them with open arms, covered in colourful daubs of paint and wearing necklaces of bones and beads. She was as determined to put on a good show as Paega’s kin from the Priest Sect. I suppose they breed it into them while they’re young.
By late afternoon, I went down to the stream to rinse out my best linens and saw the great mound of dead creatures stacked up against the central carved ash trunk outside Endelyn’s hut. There were far more sacrifices there than a few warriors’ offerings. People from right across the island and beyond were lining up to receive her blessing.
When I’d finished hanging out my washing to dry, I filled my pockets with a few handfuls of grain and wandered down the boardwalk towards the pony enclosure.
I was less than half-way down the path when Renowden caught up with me.
“Meliora!”
I turned and waited for him, taking note of his troubled frown. “What is it? Is someone hurt?” It was my usual response to expressions such as his. In my line of work, people usually needed patching up or a potion to quell the unwanted desires of their husbands.
“No, it’s not that, it’s…” He was tongue-tied. It was most unlike him and it worried me.
“What?” I looked in all directions, trying to see clues as to what was making him so anxious. That was when I saw them in the horse pen. A whole host of Tallack’s men had my beautiful white hart cornered, with ropes tangled in the new growth where his antlers should be.
My gasp alerted Renowden to my intentions, but before I could scurry off to stop them, he threw his arms about me and squeezed tightly.
“Don’t Mel.” He said, with such gentleness and humility. “Blydh has made the order. He is to be sacrificed this night with Endelyn’s blessing, to see the warriors into the Summerlands.”
Ren held on while I writhed and sobbed. I pounded my fists against his sinewy chest but he didn’t let go. We watched the warriors tighten the noose about the stag’s neck and lead him, bucking and rearing up towards the open gate. The majestic animal’s eyes were wild, his breath fast and steaming, his cries clawed at my heart. The vessel for Cernonnus was to have his throat slashed before being roasted for a Long Hut feast.
I didn’t know what to do with myself. The more I saw him struggle, the more desolate were my tears, but I couldn’t pull myself away. If only I had shooed him out of the pen during the Duros’ attack on our camp, he would be free to live a long life.
“I don’t understand.” I cuffed the drippings from my nose and pushed Ren’s arms away from me. “What has caused this sudden urge to make godly offerings?”
He lifted my chin and brushed away the drying tracks down my cheeks. “People are scared. Endelyn has told everyone that it’s the only way to make sure they don’t die from the black scab.”
I scoffed. “Didn’t you put them straight? We all know that you can’t catch the Nine Children’s curse. They’d have to be in the stone circle themselves.” My voice rose to a shriek as the warriors forced the deer across the grassland in front of me.
“I tried. You know how the elders get when an unknown sickness takes hold. Besides…” He withdrew his arms and folded them across his chest. “No one listens to me. It’d take one of the Chiefs to convince them otherwise.” The moment it left his lips, I could see he regretted voicing his opinions.
Bile and humours rose within me, sending my temper soaring. I rolled up the sleeves of my tunic and stomped off the boardwalk onto the grass.
“No, Meliora. That’s not a good idea.” Ren scampered after me, running alongside my determined strides.
I stuck out my jaw and swung my arms, marching as fast as my stumpy legs could carry me towards the Long Hut.
“Please, Mel. You can’t just go in there and insist that they let your stag go free. Think this through, for the sake of Cernonnus, woman!”
It was no use. I couldn’t hear his pleas. I’d seen enough pain and death to sicken the heart of the hardiest of elders. If my nephews chose to strike me down, then I was prepared for my end. The noise from the Long Hut was quieter than I had expected. Pushing through the crowd at the door, I could see Tallack and Blydh in their tall chairs, each with a cup of ale in their hands and the heads of the Duro victims oozing on the table where I normally sat. I should have guessed Blydh’s mood towards me from that gesture alone.
The Head Hunter Clan sat on one side of the hall; Tallack’s Sea Warrior Clan opposite. They talked in hushed tones, passing around the jugs of ale and sharing moments of bravery about the fallen. Blydh made the most din. He laughed and sloshed his beer about, yelled at slaves and beckoned the pretty young wives of the elders to sit on his lap.
“There she is.” Blydh crowed, slamming his cup down on the table. “There’s our not-so-wise woman.” He’d spotted me. The room fell silent.
My courage failed me. I stood at the far end of the Long Hut struck with indecision. Everyone around me parted so that I was clearly visible to all who looked on. My breathing quickened, my fists clenched, I took a slow step forward, hoping that the menfolk would continue chatting and ignore my presence. They didn’t.
Blydh stood up in front of his tall chair and sneered. “Here comes the blinder of Chiefs, the peddler of pain, the snake in our midst.”
Tallack rolled his eyes into the back of his head. “Come now, brother. You speak too harshly. Aunt Mel only did what I asked of her. If you have to blame anyone, blame me.”
Blydh screwed up his face, baring his teeth at me and hissing. “Snake!” His glare lasted a good long while, and I could see no way of broaching the subject of the white hart without losing my head too. By the time I had taken another three steps, Blydh was back in his seat and blinking rapidly. He swayed, steadying himself against the back of the chair. “How do we know that she’s not in league with Brea, eh?”
Tallack sighed as though he’d defended me of the same accusations for most of the afternoon. “You know that’s not true. Aunt Mel has done nothing to warrant such unfair treatment.” The bickering between the twins took on a low growling nature, each of them bowing their heads together and engaging in a lop-sided stare down.
Ren took the opportunity to grapple my arm. “Leave it be, Mel. You can only make matters worse if you speak with them now.” He was right, but of course, I knew better.
Ren shut his eyes and gently shook his head, as though the roof of the world would crash in on me for my impudence. Tallack froze, expecting his brother’s negative response. He was right to anticipate one.
Blydh toyed with the straggly hairs growing on his chin. “Is Tallack the only chief present, Snake? You demand counsel from one and not the other?” He gestured to his brother. “Didn’t I tell you she’s not to be trusted? She would have us separated so that we are easy to hunt. What will it be, poison, like my father?”
“You go too far…”
“Do I? Really? She could have been the one who supplied Brea with the berries for our father’s stew…”
Tallack’s patience wore thin. He tutted at Blydh and flicked his hand mid-air, dismissing his ranting as nonsense. Stepping down from the raised platform, Tallack hurried over to me and pushed Ren and I back out of the hut.
“Might be better if you keep your distance for a while, Aunt Mel. He’s taken too much resin and doesn’t know what he’s saying.” It was kind of him to blame the strong poppy water, but I knew that it was probably the evil spirit from the Underworld speaking through Blydh. It made me all the more determined to get him to the sacred spring on Belgae lands.
For a moment, I was lost in thought, distressed at the alterations in my nephew. It was when I heard the deep grunts and squeals of the white hart that I remembered the reason for my interruption.
“Tallack…” I reached up and cupped his cheeks between my hands. “My dear nephew. Is there any way that I can convince you to spare the stag from sacrificial rites?”