The Red And Savage Tongue (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain)

by Atkinson, F J

  Simon was confident that the group ahead could not see them, but signalled for Martha to kneel low to the ground after his example. ‘It seems we’ve company in this vastness girl—looks like a group of riders to me. We must really have maddened them if so many chase us.’ He considered this for a moment then shook his head. ‘No, they’re here for a something else, not for us. They’re probably looking for more land and people to raid.’

  ‘Then all the more urgent is our need to get before them,’ said Martha. ‘Our people need to be warned so they can prepare, even if it means risking our own lives.’

  ‘No haste today though,’ said Simon. ‘We need to let whoever is ahead put some miles between us; once we get into the trees again we must rest for the night.’

  They spent the night absent of rest, cold and hungry in a makeshift shelter, and at first light the next day they followed the descending stream to enter the forest.

  Their discomfort of the previous night had done little to help their cause and they tired quickly whilst still early into their trek—their progress becoming more hesitant and weary with every mile.

  It was just after mid-day when they found the apple tree. It was not the native crab apple, but a different variety that owed its existence to a legionnaires discarded apple core many decades before. Its fruit were plump and ripening, and the tree swayed gently in the breeze as they approached it. It provided them with their first food for two days, and they sat in a shaft of warm sunlight and ate their fill of the welcomed crop.

  ‘If ever a treat came from heaven at a better time then it must indeed have been welcomed by those who received it,’ said Simon as he threw a core into the pile before them. ‘The track must be near now; I reckon this tree is an accident created by a hungry Roman. Maybe he left the track to relieve himself after eating his apple. Looks like he then fertilized it.’

  Martha laughed aloud at the vision created by Simon—the first time she had laughed since the raid. The sound was a sweet melody to Simon’s ears and he could not help but laugh with her. They both laughed long and loud as the tensions of the last two days seeped out of their very pores.

  After they had composed themselves, Simon scooped many of the wind-fallen apples into the bundle he carried. Martha smiled at Simon as he secured the bundle over his shoulders and was about to tell him what a fine pack pony he made, when the smile froze on her face as she saw a man, fifty yards away, pointing towards her.

  As she watched, she observed more men gathering beside him. She grabbed Simon by the hand and pulled him to his feet. ‘Run!’ she screamed. ‘They’ve seen us! Quick, we must get away!’

  Simon looked with despair at the approaching men but didn’t move. He shook his head sadly. ‘It’s no use. It’s too late. There’s nowhere to hide and we can’t outrun them. There’s nothing we can do now.’

  The men moved quickly, and soon a laughing and mocking rabble surrounded them. She recognised one of the men as the fat leader of the raiders, and realised that their lives would soon be over. She knew there would be no mercy with him. His delight at slaughter and rape in the village had been beyond her comprehension. He was a monster, pure and simple.

  Egbert spat in her face as he pulled her towards him, then slapped her hard across her head, knocking her to the ground. ‘The cause of my fucking hardship,’ he said, his voice quivering with rage. ‘I’ll take great delight in teaching you a lesson!’ As he loosened his tunic, he cast a mocking glance at Simon. ‘And who’s this that attends you, whore? An old cunt long overdue the grave by the look of him. But first things first. I’ll see to him at once.’

  He beckoned impatiently to one of the men to give him his ax, and then walked over to Simon who was crouching on the ground looking up at him. Egbert turned laughing at the men. ‘See how the old rooster glares at me in protection of his hen.’ He cupped Simon’s chin in his hand and leaned close enough for Simon to smell his sour breath as he sneered into his face. ‘You’ve done well to survive the years, old one, but if you could do me the service of stretching out your scrawny neck so that I can remove your head with one swipe, I’ll be forever in your service.’ As Egbert stepped back a pace to deliver his blow, Simon merely looked up at him, unable to understand his Germanic tongue. Egbert looked at the men near to him and challenged them to a wager. ‘Who will bet a sheepskin bedroll that I can not remove the old goat’s head with one swipe?’

  Some of the men were about to respond when Withred reached the group. He held up his hand to Egbert. ‘Wait Egbert, not so quick, you are forgetting that we’ve still not found the lad. I see here a replacement, or do you wish to eat Hubert’s cooking again?’

  Egbert considered this for a moment. Hubert, a skinny warrior with dubious personal hygiene, had been the camp cook before Tomas had arrived. His meals had been badly prepared and often undercooked, and Egbert had lost count of the number of times he had hurled his food at Hubert, after attempting to chew on the stringy offerings before him. He had been surprised at Tomas’s adaptability around the campfire and was aware of the great improvement in both quality and quantity of food since his capture. He put this down to the boy’s background and assumed that all Britons knew how to cook. He looked at Simon and reasoned that a Briton as old as he must also know how to make swine tasty.

  He nodded at Withred. ‘You seem to be more and more pitiful these days heron, but maybe you’ve a point.’ He paused a moment as he considered the possibilities. ‘Okay … I’ll let him live for now—I can always kill him later if he proves to be no better than Hubert at cooking. As for the woman, she’ll make up for losing the boy. Let us hope Eadmund holds him as I speak.’

  The men looked back up the track towards the leafy hollow where they had left Eadmund to search for Tomas. Egbert shouted at them. ‘Well! Why do you stare? Go now and help in the search! Don’t forget we also seek the other Briton who killed two of our companions!’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tomas lay still as Edmund’s probing feet finally kicked softly into his body. The barbarian’s arms followed as he grabbed the boy and pulled him triumphantly out of the leaves, his face contorted with happiness. He beamed as he thought of how his prestige would recover now that he had recaptured the defeated slave-boy. Maybe Egbert would stop pushing him around now.

  Tomas’ eyes opened wide with surprise as he noticed the arrowhead sprout from Eadmund’s sternum. A bloody, frothy spluttering was the best that Eadmund could muster as he fell to the ground.

  He saw the group of three standing fifty paces away. Quickly, he waved his arms and shouted, ‘Don’t loose an arrow at me sir! I’m not one of them. I run from them like you. I was their slave and now I have escaped. I speak British. I am British.’

  Dominic shouted back, ‘Come show yourself lad, I’ll let you live if you satisfy me that you are a friend.’

  Tomas walked towards them with his palms outstretched. ‘See, I’m unarmed,’ he stuttered. ‘My name is Tomas and I’m too small to fight anyone.’

  Murdoc could not help but feel sympathy for the boy who stumbled towards them. His smock hung loose and beltless over his bony frame; his hose holed and muddy, and his brown hair ruffled and festooned with dead leaves. Murdoc turned to Dominic who nodded in affirmation. ‘It seems that we now number four. What now?’

  Tomas smiled with delight at his imminent acceptance, as Dominic looked in a westerly direction and quickly outlined his intention. ‘We need to get to country that I’m more familiar with, and where we can vanish into the woods.’ There was a grim cast to his eyes as he turned his piercing gaze upon Tomas. ‘You seem harmless enough … so yes … you can run with us, but you had better keep up because once lost, you stay lost!’

  Tomas didn’t intend to fall behind or get lost even if it meant running until his lungs burst and his heart leapt out of his chest. Dominic continued his assessment of Tomas a while longer, causing the boy to shuffle uncomfortably.

  ‘No time to dawdle here,’ said Dominic, relenting.
‘Every minute is now precious. It’s lucky for the lad that we heard them diverted elsewhere and I took a look around. Now we need to move because they will be back.’ Turning on his heel, he ran towards an area of the forest where the vegetation grew thicker. He turned to the others. ‘Follow me now and keep up!’ he shouted.

  They travelled at a steady pace for the rest of the day without hindrance or pursuit, and finally came to rest by a bank of bracken. Dominic carefully led them through a subtle break in the outcrop into a cleared area that was unseen from the faint trail they had left. It was one of many of his hidden stores, which he had scattered throughout his hunting grounds. He brushed aside leaf litter from the floor of the clearing and removed a rough, wooden cover set into the ground. From beneath the cover, he removed a wooden box containing dried, salted meat, edible plant tubers, and a cooking pot. With the use of his flint and iron, he soon had a fire going, and after filling the pot with water from a nearby spring, he prepared a stew from the ingredients before him.

  It was the first cooked meal any of them had had for days and for all of them the finest feast they could remember. After the meal, Dominic again looked Tomas in the eye. ‘Now lad, you say you was their slave, therefore you must have known of their purpose in this forest. Were they seeking people? Chasing escaped captives?’

  Tomas shook his head. ‘No … a woman did get away at the village, but they soon give up the chase. It’s not worth their while to spend any more time chasing folk. Their purpose now is to find a way through the forest so they can report back any new land suitable for taking.’

  Dominic looked troubled at the news. He knew the savages would find the main track soon. They headed in a northerly direction, so could not fail to. If they found the track, they would also find his camp. They must be prepared for this likelihood. He told the group of his fears.

  Tomas became agitated. ‘But what are we to do against them? Two men, and a boy and girl, against a band of warriors. I’ve seen what they do. We must continue to run and hide.’

  Murdoc’s eyes blazed. ‘They are not warriors! What kind of warriors become fattened upon the blood of the weak and defenceless—they are cowards I tell you, stinking cowards!’ His anger subsided as he saw the boy cowering at his outburst, and after a pause, he placed his hand on Tomas’ shoulder and continued calmly. ‘But of course you are right lad; we can’t meet them man for man that’s for sure, and my first duty is to Ceola whose survival will be impossible if I perish.’

  Dominic rubbed the ache out of his shoulder. ‘We’ll all perish if we don’t rest, and here’s as good a place as any. I’ve spent many nights here, and on a night like this it’ll be dry and safe.’

  They settled down and talked until dusk, enclosed within the shaded interior of the bracken barrier, where they spent the night comfortable and hidden.

  The next day, Dominic was up early, and before the others had arisen, he had prepared a simple meal of forest fruit and dried meat. Murdoc was the first to wake and joined Dominic who was staring moodily into the forest. Sitting beside him, he asked, ‘You look grim this morning, man. What bothers you?

  Dominic gave a thin smile and shrugged. ‘I was just thinking of how my life has suddenly changed. The simplicity has gone and though I long for it back, I now feel a duty to our folk.’ He looked at Murdoc, his eyes welling. ‘Like you, I’ve seen what they do to people. The sacked village I came upon provided me with enough scenes to fill a thousand nightmares. Women, children, the old, the weak—all of them mutilated and treated like offal. How can you pray to God, to your Jesus? He’s supposed to protect innocent people isn’t he?’

  Murdoc paused a while before answering. ‘I do struggle with it, believe me, but my faith is just about hanging on even though my own family was butchered. It’s said that God left men with the freedom to direct their own path to heaven or hell. Don’t forget that our old Gods were not innocent of bloodshed; many were sacrificed to please them before battle when Rome first came to these shores.’

  Dominic stood up and looked back to the sleeping Tomas and Ceola. ‘Well it seems that someone looks after those two for now. Be it God or providence we may never know, but I preach caution today. The bastards are in the same forest as us— that I do believe.’

  Later, when Tomas and Ceola were ready for the journey, Tomas approached Murdoc as he held his daughter. He looked embarrassed and awkward when he asked Murdoc. ‘May I carry Ceola for you? She reminds me of my sister, and it would be good to carry her like I used to carry my sister … for part of the way at least.’

  Murdoc looked at Ceola, and the little girl nodded to him. Her condition after eating Dominic’s food and sleeping soundly had worked wonders to revive her spirit, as well as her physical wellbeing. He reluctantly handed her to Tomas.

  As they travelled, Dominic took the lead and occasionally would tell them to stop and be silent. Then he would run stealthily ahead, checking the intended route. This done, he would emerge from the trees several minutes later and beckon the others towards him.

  They progressed like this for the rest of the day until they stopped beside a wide-girthed beech. Dominic led them into a group of shoulder-high shrubbery behind the tree. ‘We’ve earned another meal and a night’s rest,’ he said. ‘Now where have I hidden my provisions?’

  He searched for a short while then lifted a crude but effective ladder from the undergrowth. Turf and leaves festooned it, as well as a long coil of rope. He shook the ladder to remove the accumulated vegetation and tugged firmly at the rope attached to its top rung. The others looked puzzled. He laughed and pointed above into the canopy of the beech tree. ‘The ladder gets us as far as the first bough, after that the climbing’s easy. There is a platform thirty strides from the ground which as you can see, or should I say can not see, is hidden from view.’

  Murdoc grinned at Dominic. ‘How many more surprises can we expect?’

  Dominic shrugged. ‘This is just one of many shelters I use on my travels. They come in handy and I keep the best in good repair. In the trees or underground; I don’t mind as long as they keep me safe.’

  Ceola and Tomas were sitting under the tree talking quietly to each other. They had walked hand in hand all that day and a bond had begun to grow between them. Their shared misfortunes and horrors were drawing them closer to each other, and the young girl was comfortable being with Tomas.

  Dominic saw Murdoc look up, anxiously trying to locate the high platform. Dominic attempted to put him at ease. ‘Have no worries about Ceola getting up there, this old tree provides an easy route up to the hideaway. Once you’re past the ladder, just follow my lead.’

  He placed the ladder against the tree and nimbly climbed up to the first branch, eight feet above the leaf-strewn floor. Tomas and Ceola went next, with Murdoc the last to climb and ready to assist Ceola should she struggle. Dominic’s assurance proved true, and they easily reached the first bough. Then they picked a benign route through the branches until reaching the platform—a concealed and roomy loft, high above the ground. Dominic pulled up the ladder with the attached twine.

  That night Murdoc dreamt he was an eagle fledgling ready to take his first flight from a lofty eerie. He sprang from the pinnacle and stretched his wings, only to discover that he was a flightless and foolish man, plummeting through the air. He awoke with a start and sat upright, feeling the rough but reassuring platform beneath him. Everyone else seemed to be sleeping—Ceola tethered to a branch as an extra precaution—so he lay flat again and returned to his sleep.

  The next morning, Dominic and Murdoc awoke early and climbed down the tree, leaving Tomas and Ceola sleeping soundly.

  Dominic looked anxious as he peered into the distance. ‘I’d feel better if I knew their whereabouts. Every blind turn makes my heart race.’

  Murdoc nodded in agreement. ‘Then we need to find their trail. I’ll come with you if you want, as long as the young ones are safe here.’

  ‘If they don’t stray they couldn’t
be safer,’ said Dominic, ‘I’ve spent many days and nights here and know it to be safe. Besides, I could do with your spear alongside my bow should things go wrong.’

  They explained the plan to Tomas and Ceola later that morning, as Dominic provided them with enough food and water to last them a week, and gave them strict instructions not to stray from the tree. He also gave Tomas a spare bow and a quiver of arrows, which he had hidden months earlier in a hollow under the tree.

  Just before midday, Murdoc picked up Ceola and hugged her, before turning to Tomas. ‘Look after her Tom, and remember what we told you: don’t stray from the tree.’

  ‘We’ll wait for as long as it takes,’ said Tomas, ‘and will be up the tree as quickly as two squirrels if we hear any noise.’

  As they strode away, Murdoc feared their plan could falter. The raiders possibly could find the young ones, but he considered the alternative of dragging them at speed through the forest, chancing that they may be spotted or injured, far more risky. Far better that he travelled lightly and swiftly with a skilled tracker like Dominic. He looked back at the two figures, holding hands beside the huge beech tree: one, a ragged, adolescent boy; the other a blonde-haired, bare-footed child. How small and vulnerable they looked to him, in the vastness of the forest.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As Dominic had predicted, the raiders found the Roman marching track. Simon and Martha, who had their hands bound, then found the going easier as they stumbled along, tethered by their necks. Although some shrubs dotted the track, much of the passageway was clear of vegetation, and Simon guessed that browsers of the forest such as deer were responsible for keeping the track passable. At that moment, he envied the simple life of the deer, but above all, he coveted their freedom. He looked back at Martha, hoping that the trauma of the past two nights had not broken her spirit. On both nights, a tall, hard-looking man, who emanated an air of authority, had stopped the brutal leader of the barbarians—the man they called, Egbert— from defiling Martha. Simon felt that as long as this man was around they had a slim chance of survival. The man had already saved his life. Why … Simon had no idea, but he feared they would feel the full vengeance of the leader should the man leave the group.