by Sam Taw
The men worked hard throughout the day, scraping, digging and moving the soil until the base of the stones were exposed. After a short break, the toil continued until one man could squeeze into the central space under the capstone and still have room to manoeuvre. I watched as the men eased a sharpened pole beneath the floor stone of the chamber and prized it up from the compacted mud.
Endelyn tapped Tallack on the shoulder and gave him a bracelet she’d made. It was a fine plait of horsehair, with beads woven at intervals. “Wear this for protection, Chief. I had it blessed by the holiest in all the lands one summer.” My nephew took it from her and wound it around his wrist.
Cryda looked up from her nursing babe and touched the priestess’s hand as she passed. “Thank you, my dear.” She whispered. It seemed to me that Endelyn had just about charmed everyone in our whole tribe. The warriors heaved and pushed until the floor stone worked loose and could be removed to reveal the cavity for the older bones.
Tallack was nervous. I could tell by the way he fiddled with the charmed bracelet and hesitated at the mound’s edge. Cryda carried the jar containing Aebba’s long bones, while two from the Head Hunter Clan lifted the dried body of their leader from the cart. The afternoon sun beat down with such ferocity, some of the men removed their sweat soaked tunics and let the breeze dry their skin.
When the route to the chamber was cleared, Cryda crouched low and stepped inside. Tallack lit a torch and held it close to the capstone roof for her to see. There, she finally laid her husband’s bones to rest. His offerings were modest, since his famed bronze shield and swords sat beside his skull and other finery at Stonehenge. I did not see what personal items of his she placed with him, but from the lazy grin on her face, I thought it might be something that evoked the memory of a secret only they had shared.
Tallack reached his hand out to steady his mother as she struggled from the chamber. It was his turn next. She took the torch from him so that he could receive the crouched corpse of his twin brother. Ducking low, he cradled the wrapped figure and entered the tunnel. From the hideous crunching sound, I guessed that the space was too small to accommodate the body. Tallack had to snap the joints to make it fit. On his return, Tallack’s face was drawn and grey.
Treeve dashed forward to offer assistance, but my nephew pushed him away. I can only imagine how that must have felt, knowing that Blydh would be unable to walk to the Summerlands with broken leg bones. Cryda plucked a polished battle axe from the rear of the wagon, all shiny and new, forged from the metal of Blydh’s helm. It took moments for her to shimmy back inside and leave it with the body.
All the elders looked to Kenver next. He held a bronze spearhead in his palm, a token from the Alchemist’s Clan to protect Blydh in his afterlife. I had a similar one from my bundle, but it was only fair that Kenver went first, he was a clan leader after all. His deposit was swift and uneventful, leaving me to play my part in the ritual.
It wasn’t so easy for me to crawl inside. My joints were less supple, my muscles weaker and sore. As soon as I was under the capstone, the sickly smell of death made me gag. It was infused with the strong odour of woodsmoke that no meadow flower could conceal. Suppressing a cough, I held my breath and groped about in the darkness for the location of the bones in the chamber by my feet. In my clumsy exploration, my fingers tore through something soft and squelchy. Blydh was not fully preserved. I didn’t know whether to throw up or wipe the offensive humours on my tunic. That was about all I could stand. I launched the spear head in the hole and hurried outside.
Cryda was rummaging in the back of the cart, her frown teetering on the edge of tears. “I was sure that he had it when I was washing him in my hut.” Her nose wrinkled, her features pinched holding in the emotions.
“What have you lost?” I asked, wiping my hand on the grass.
Tallack answered for her. “The golden sun disc.”
“Oh, I have that. I cleaned it so that Delen could have it back.” I said, heading for the bundle strapped to my horse.
“Are you addled, Meliora? Do you want my daughter to suffer the same fate as my son?” Cryda screeched. “Give it to me.”
“But it was part of Delen’s naming ceremony, when Blydh assured her the sun.” I was puzzled by her reaction.
Endelyn stepped between us to calm the storm. “Sweet, Fur Benyn. The sun disc must be buried along with Blydh so that the dark spirit can return to the Underworld and cause no more harm to our people.”
Such a ridiculous notion, since Blydh and the spirit were now under ground, but it was not the time to argue. I was overheated, tired, and hungry, and the priestess still hadn’t begun her babbling and chanting to the gods. Collecting the disc from my pack, I gave it to Tallack. He completed the offerings, climbing back inside the chamber for the last time.
We formed a half-circle and joined hands, with Kenver on my left, and Tallack on my right next to Treeve. Just as Endelyn was winding herself up for the ritual blessing, Treeve said;
“Wait just a moment. I will burst with heat if I don’t take off my tunic.” He let go of Tallack’s hand and we all watched as he grabbed the hem and pulled it high over his head. My eyes fell to the prominent ribs of the skinny little boy at my nephew’s side.
Kenver’s sight alighted on something else. “Why are you wearing my daughter’s quill necklace?”
All eyes fell to Treeve and then to Tallack as Kenver began to draw his own conclusions. This did not bode well.
***
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For more information on the rest of the series, please go to: www.carantocpublishing.com/sam-taw
The next book in the series is entitled Pagan Siege
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PAGAN FURY
Three unsuitable lovers.
Two valuable metals.
One critical mission.
The Dumnonii have no copper for their forges. Without a new supply, there will be no more bronze weapons for the inevitable battle ahead.
Joint Chieftain, Tallack, must cross the western ocean to negotiate an alliance with the obstinate Dathi of the Ivernii and complete an impossible task to gain his trust.
Can he succeed where once his father failed?
Join the young warrior and his crew in a lust fuelled, intense quest on the shores of Iwerdon and find out for yourself.
This story takes place between book one, Pagan Death, and book two, Pagan Curse. Please be aware that there will be spoilers that might ruin the enjoyment if they are read out of order.
www.carantocpublishing.com/sam-taw
About the Author
Sam Taw is the pen name for fiction author Sam Nash. Sam is committed to delivering novels in two distinct genres, historical thrillers and a unique blend of science fiction and international espionage stories.
She lives in a small market town in the south of Leicestershire, in the UK but dreams of one day owning a woodland on the Cornish coast.
For information regarding the work of Sam Taw, please visit:
www.carantocpublishing.com/sam-taw
For information regarding the work of Sam Nash, please visit:
https://www.samnash.org