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

by Atkinson, F J

  Dominic, not wishing the floods to curtail his hunting, had spent many days fashioning a canoe from birch bark, and along with Tomas now paddled into the swampy forest in search of game.

  The skilful village carpenter, Gilbert, had made Tomas’ longbow from yew, and he had practiced repeatedly with it until his arms and shoulders had strengthened enough for him to use it with some skill. Dominic’s own bow was unique. An Egyptian auxiliary had become his friend when he was in the employ of the Romans, and had shown him how to make a composite bow from layers of wood and bone, bonded by fish glue. The resulting weapon recurved back on itself resulting in a bow that was smaller but superior in velocity and accuracy to any other weapon on the island.

  Tomas was careful to keep in time with Dominic’s oar as they knelt in the canoe looking for signs of life. They paddled towards a prominent green mound, which Dominic recognised from the year before when the island had just been a tract of higher ground. He now hoped the floods had forced many animals onto the elevated terrain.

  ‘We’ll paddle towards the land,’ he shouted over his shoulder to Tomas, ‘there may be deer or swine there.’

  As they ran aground on the island, Dominic and Tomas jumped out of the canoe and dragged it until it beached on the soggy, leaf-strewn slope. Straight away, Dominic froze and placed a hand to his lips and beckoned Tomas to crouch low.

  A huge boar was nuzzling in the undergrowth oblivious to the two hunters. ‘Keep absolutely still,’ whispered Dominic. ‘This one’s for you to drop.’

  Tomas hardly dared breathe as he raised his arm—his bow already notched with an arrow. He was elated that Dominic had trusted him with a large important kill. Until then, he had only taken rabbits and squirrels. This was the first time he had been entrusted to release the first arrow at such a large, potentially dangerous animal. Dominic had often teased him about his exploit with the bear in the tree house, and now he had the chance to prove to him that he was a worthy marksman. His demonstration to the villagers in the longhouse had been one of the high points of his winter, but he knew that a successful kill now would greatly surpass it.

  He took his aim, the hide cord drawn to his nose, but just as he released the arrow, the animal turned and spotted him. Its movement was enough to prevent the arrow entering its vital organs. Instead, the arrow slapped into its rump, setting it into a squealing run.

  Dominic slapped Tomas on the shoulder, careful to encourage him. ‘Good lad,’ he said. ‘It turned at the wrong time, but your arrow will slow it down, and we’ll still eat swine tonight.’ Tomas ran as quickly as he could behind Dominic as he gave chase. He noticed with admiration how Dominic was able to nock an arrow to his bow without breaking stride, as he readied himself for his strike.

  The chance came when they entered a bright part of the woods where the trees were widely spaced. Dominic abruptly stopped, then took aim, and released his arrow at the rapidly moving animal. From behind, Tomas saw the low curving blur of the projectile as it cut through the air. The boar fell, crashing onto its side, before sliding through a pile of leaves. Tomas realised with amazement that Dominic’s strike had killed it outright.

  Even the usually pragmatic Dominic could not conceal his pride of the kill. ‘How’s that Tom,’ he said with a huge grin, ‘not a bad aim for an old man eh?’

  Tomas could only look with admiration, first at the boar, then at Dominic, as they trotted towards the dead animal. Dominic looked at Tomas’ gaping features and broke into a laugh. He had to admit that he had attempted to bring down prey whilst running several times and had rarely been successful. The disclosure in no way diffused Tomas’ awe.

  The animal lay dead with the arrow stuck between its shoulder blades, and as he stooped to gut and bind it, Dominic winked at Tomas. ‘Without your arrow slowing it down lad, this fellow would be long gone by now. A good welcome will await us at the village when we turn up with this.’

  Tomas beamed with delight at Dominic’s praise, and indeed a salutation met them when they returned, and three hours after killing the boar, the smell of pork drifted through the village.

  All the villagers went into the longhouse to share the meal, and after a high-spirited repast served with a good flow of ale, Brinley addressed the gathering. He stood and banged his empty flagon on the table for attention. ‘A fine feast, after the meagre rations of the last few weeks, I think you’ll agree,’ he said.

  A murmur of agreement indeed went around the table, and then spontaneous laughter, as Augustus and his brothers shouted insults at Brinley.

  Brinley smiled, taking it in his stride, and waited for the merriment to subside before he continued. ‘Dominic and Tomas are the ones we need to thank for this spread, and it’s the council of Dominic that concerns us now. We both agree that the time for waiting in relative safety is over, but I’ll let him tell you more.’

  The room took on a more serious atmosphere as Dominic stood to address the assembly. ‘The time for action approaches,’ he said. ‘Along with my apprentice,’ he nodded with a smile towards Tomas, ‘I was afloat in the woods today, as I’ve been every day since the snows melted. Up to now, the water has been our ally; it has delayed the outset of the raiders. Delayed, but, I fear, not prevented it. The water level has dropped greatly, and land that was under water last week now stands dry. It will only be a short time before the forest is once again passable. Withred informs me that the raiders will ride as soon as the water falls sufficiently to allow them to progress. By my reckoning that’s already the situation in the higher eastern part of the forest.’ A general unease pervaded the room as many of the women picked up their children and held them close. Dominic continued. ‘If this is the case, then they could reach the village in as little as two weeks.’ This time, an anxious drone of conversation broke out around the table.

  The impetuous Darga stood up and shouted above the din. ‘If this is so then why do we sit here and feast! Surely we should be preparing for the fight with them!’

  ‘There was little we could do in the floods,’ said Dominic. ‘This is the earliest opportunity to set our plans in motion, so get you arse back on the seat and listen to what we have to say.’

  Dominic continued as Darga reluctantly complied. ‘Withred has plans for the defence of the village, and those he has trained are aware of these The plans will be used if the forest party, led by me, fails. The men who ride with me must be ready by the day after tomorrow, by which time the water levels will have fallen enough to allow our passage through the woods.’ He looked at Augustus and his brothers … at James … at Darga. ‘You’ve tomorrow to say your goodbyes,’ he said.

  Two days later, Dominic prepared to leave with his small band to seek out the Saxon force. The village gathered around them, saying their goodbyes.

  Murdoc, Martha and Ceola said their farewells at the forest edge, a family now in every sense. With his daughter cradled close, and his other arm around Martha, Murdoc’s tone was intense. ‘We don’t intend to fail in the forest, but you’ve to save yourself and Ceola if things go badly for us.’

  ‘I’ll do all in my power,’ said Martha, as she struggled to suppress her tears. ‘I love this child, and I’ll make sure she survives. Whatever the cost she must survive this. But just make sure you do come back.’

  Murdoc stroked her face and nodded towards a resolute and determined-looking Dominic, closely flanked by the formidable Augustus and his brothers. ‘I couldn’t be in better company. Those men are a shield.’

  Dominic looked over and saw that Ceola was looking at his wolf hat. He gave a low comical growl and pulled a face at her, causing her to giggle and hide her face.

  Murdoc smiled and handed Ceola to Martha, then kissed them both and climbed onto his pony. He turned to wave at them one last time as he rode away, and saw that Martha hugged Ceola close, her face anxious and sad.

  Tomas had helped the others to prepare for the trip, but after much deliberation, Dominic had decided that the boy was not yet ready for t
he rigours of skirmishing warfare, but had bolstered him and assuaged his disappointment by telling him it would be better to leave a wolf in each camp.’

  They now did their leave-taking on the edge of the wood, both splendid in their wolf hats. ‘Remember all that you’ve learned lad,’ said Dominic. ‘You’ll be needed if we don’t succeed, and I’ve faith in you to protect the others if needs be.’

  Tomas swelled with pride at Dominic’s endorsement. ‘They will be safe with me, I’ll make sure of that, but I know that you’ll kill most of them anyway.’

  Dominic envied Tomas’ confidence, not feeling it himself at that moment. He smiled at the boy. ‘If I do return I’ll give you a bow like mine. The way you are filling out, you’ll have the strength to draw such a bow before the year’s out.’

  Tomas was enthused. ‘Then get it done and return quickly so we may hunt together again soon.’

  Dominic mounted his pony and slapped Tomas on the shoulder, before waving to the other villagers and following Murdoc and the others into the deeper woods.

  Although the water level had fallen, the ground was still boggy, causing the ponies to labour through the sucking mud, but once past the deserted village they moved onto higher ground, and the going became easier.

  Two days passed, without any sign of others, before they came to the east-west track. Here, they were able to make quicker progress on its relatively even surface, where wide shallow puddles, glistening like silver mirrors, provided the ponies with clear melt-water to drink.

  That night, Murdoc and Dominic sat apart from the other six men talking quietly. Dominic looked tellingly at Murdoc. ‘I think we chose the men well,’ he said, ‘for the most part.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Murdoc knowingly. ‘The butcher, Augustus, is a stout and able man, as are his brothers. James too, seems steady and able to travel without complaint, but oh! if I hear Darga bellyache once more about the conditions, I swear I’ll slap his pony’s arse into a mad gallop.’

  Dominic chuckled at this, but then frowned and looked tellingly at Murdoc. ‘I think we chose wrong with him. If he can’t stand the conditions on the trail, then how will he cope with the fighting when it comes?’

  ‘God only knows,’ said Murdoc, ‘but it’s too late to worry about that now. We can only hope he’ll surprise us.’

  After four quiet days, the riders finally approached Dominic’s abandoned camp. Dominic had ridden on ahead to make sure the place was unoccupied, and after scouting its perimeter was happy that the surrounding woods were empty of people. The ring of stones outside the hut still contained a blackened smudge where many fires had burned. Augustus and his brothers went to gather firewood.

  Dominic and Murdoc looked at the camp, which was seemingly undisturbed since their departure. ‘I never expected to see this place again,’ said Dominic, but I know that my future life will not be spent here.’ Murdoc nodded and looked at his friend, knowing that their meeting in the forest last year had changed the course of his life. Dominic continued. ‘We need to put our plans to action now, and that starts here. The raiders will arrive soon and we may be able to slay some of them here like we did before.’

  That night the eight men warmed themselves by the fire after eating a filling, if mundane, supper of porridge. Augustus and his brothers amused the gathering by pulling their sturdy leather belts tight around their shrinking girths. ‘At this rate,’ joked Augustus, ‘my wife will think she is bedding a slender youth when we return.’

  There was much laughter as Dominic stood up in front of the lounging men. ‘It’s good that our spirits remain high, and so far our journey has gone well. I didn’t expect to meet them yet, but by my reckoning, they must be near. If Egbert and Cissa escaped then they’ll seek us out at this camp before moving on to their main objective—of that I’m sure. Beside, this is a natural stopping point on their journey to the discovered lands, so we must leave as soon as I return from a scouting trip, because we never intended to meet them face to face. As Withred said, we’d surely be defeated if we did that. Tomorrow, along with Murdoc, I’ll ride down the trail and scout the surrounding cover. I’ve a good idea where they should be by now, and it’s time we found out where they are. We should be gone one day, two at the most.’

  Darga butted in. ‘Why take Murdoc? I’m more than capable of helping you in the woods, and I hunger for my first kill of the dogs.’

  ‘Murdoc is proven, and this is no place to train a new tracker,’ said Dominic, dismissing Darga. He looked at Augustus. ‘How are you at digging, stout lad? Could you and your brothers dig me a deep pit in the clearing by tomorrow evening?’

  Augustus smiled. ‘I wondered why we had brought spades. You knew what you were doing when you employed workhorses for this trip that’s for sure. Yes, of course we’ll dig your pit, but may I ask why?’

  ‘For them to fall into of course!’ his brother Samuel said with mock exasperation. ‘A trick used with some success before if the stories are to be believed.’

  ‘Yes, the bear in the pit,’ said Augustus. ‘But where are we to find such a willing bear at such short notice, for goodness sake?’

  ‘Ah, that’s where James and Darga help,’ said Dominic.

  Augustus exploded with laughter at this. ‘I don’t know about James,’ he chortled, ‘but put Darga in the pit and any Saxon who falls into it will soon throw himself upon his own spear in despair.’

  Augustus’s brothers joined in the laughter, their baritone mirth echoing around the clearing. Darga reddened and was about to foolishly challenge Augustus, when a smiling Dominic signalled for them to be silent.

  ‘Don’t worry Darga,’ he said, ‘I don’t expect you and James to wait in the pit. But you can put some fangs into it for me.’

  ‘You talk in riddles,’ said Darga impatiently. ‘What do you mean put fangs into it?’

  Dominic sighed, his own patience strained. ‘Go into the forest,’ he said, pointing across the clearing. ‘You and James will collect stout staves from it and sharpen them to a point. These you will place in the pit. Sharp fangs, don’t you agree, to pierce the hides of murderers?’

  ‘But wont they be wary of such a plan, after last time?’ asked James.

  ‘If Egbert or Cissa made it back to the coast then the answer to your question must be yes,’ said Dominic. ‘We’ve nothing to lose anyway. Maybe if Egbert is in the raiding party he’ll expect to find an ambush pit, but that may play into our hands. This is what I have in mind …’

  The next morning Dominic and Murdoc left at first light and rode eastwards down the track. The day was uneventful and by mid-afternoon, they had covered a good distance. Dominic halted his pony, dismounted and examined the trail. Hoof prints led from it into the forest.

  ‘It looks like we’ve company,’ he said. ‘These are fresh prints from two ponies—outriders probably. We must take care from here on.’

  For the rest of the day they rode alongside the track, taking care to remain hidden as they followed the newly found prints.

  Murdoc had kept his spear, which he viewed as a symbol of his deliverance from the Saxons. Dominic had helped him to improve its efficiency, and had expertly sharpened it, after which, Murdoc had set it anew in a slender shaft of ash wood. He also now carried the same type of high velocity bow that Dominic used. Dominic had patiently constructed it, along with another, during the cold, winter months.

  That night they lit no fire, and when morning came, they again rode alongside the track under the cover of the surrounding shrubbery. Dominic frequently dismounted and examined the ground, and on one occasion, he left Murdoc and walked back to the track, stooping at intervals to touch the forest floor.

  He returned minutes later, put a forefinger to his lips, and signalled for Murdoc to dismount. ‘There are two men scouting ahead, as trackers to the main party,’ he whispered. ‘One of them passed by this very spot recently and now rides on the main trail. We can’t allow him to warn the others that we’ve arrived at the clearing.�
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  Murdoc followed Dominic as he ran quietly into the head-high, brushwood. It was then only a short distance to the track where Dominic stopped and pointed to a bank of hazel, which was newly in leaf. ‘Wait in there,’ he urged. ‘The other rider is heading for us. It’s time to get rid of him.’

  Murdoc quickly concealed himself behind the bush as Dominic walked up the track and stood in full view of the approaching rider.

  Upon seeing him, the man was at first startled, but then jumped off his pony and grabbed his war ax, before running at Dominic. After he had passed him, Murdoc quickly stepped from behind his cover, and threw his spear at full force into the man’s back. His shoulder blade took the full force, deflecting the spear from his heart.

  ‘Stand back!’ shouted Dominic, as the man struggled to rise to his knees. From behind, Murdoc saw Dominic quickly raise his bow and release an arrow. The dart entered the Saxon’s mouth, stifling his scream, and shattering his neck bone.

  Running quickly to the fallen man, Dominic pulled the arrow free, then wiped it on the grass and replaced it in its quiver. ‘Half a morning’s work wasted if I’d left him with this,’ he said. He dragged the corpse into the bushes, then stood up and looked quickly up and down the track. He looked to Murdoc. ‘Slap his pony’s arse and send it down the trail.’

  The pony responded to Murdoc’s whack and ran out of sight. After clearing the killing scene of all traces of combat, they led their mounts through the brush until they were some distance from the trail.

  Murdoc was amazed yet again at his partner’s cold proficiency, but was alert again when Dominic stopped dead. ‘Over there by the stream!’ he whispered.

  Twenty paces away, through a narrow gap in the shrubbery, Bealdwine—the tracker and formidable warrior—crouched by a stream taking a drink from his cupped hands. Vigilant and primal, his narrow eyes darted around the bower, looking for movement.