by Sam Taw
“Good. My grandson tells me that you have brought a cursed foreigner into our camp. Is he likely to harm any of us? Do we need to double the guards?” Hylda said, ever the practical one.
“As far as I can tell, it’s not that kind of curse. He is not violent or demented, he does not lash out or channel demons. This is a curse of illness. He weakens daily and suffers great pain. He’s no threat to us. In fact, I believe that his homeland is beyond our imagining of wealth. Forging an alliance with these men could bring prosperity to both our tribes.”
She listened to my account and nodded. “Yes, that’s what my son thinks too. Look at him simpering at the purple Prince. You’d think that dying fabric an unusual colour makes the man a god.”
I snorted loud enough to garner attention. She always was a hoot at summer gatherings in the past.
“How fares my daughter? I hear I have another grandchild now.”
For a moment, I wondered whether I should direct her to Jago, who knew more about the babe than ever I did since he was there at the birth, but I held my tongue. The Cantii are not so easy minded with their slaves as us Dumnonii. If he spoke out of turn in this Long Hut, he was likely to receive a beating for his efforts. Instead, I took my time in explaining how bonny the new child was and that Cryda had still not settled on a name for her.
“Shame about Aebba.” She said, leaning back on her bench. She lifted the ale jug and poured more into my cup. “He was a fair man and a fierce warrior.”
“He was.” My reply was more tearful than I expected it to be. I croaked through my grief. “He will rest in the Summerlands with Hale. Did you have his burial rites in his ancestors’ barrow, or succumb to these new burning rituals?”
“We buried him. You said, he will rest. Does that mean that Aebba is still above ground?” Not much gets past her quick mind.
I thought carefully about my response. “His skull is interred in the Great Barrows at Stonehenge. Cryda keeps his long bones with her until she is satisfied that a monumental quoit can be built on Higher Tor for him.”
“Hmm. She was a sentimental child. Sounds like she hasn’t altered much.” Hylda murmured. I had no answer for her. Cryda and I had become close over the last few moons in the mining settlement near to Land’s End. It was hard for me to hear of her spoken of in such scornful tones. I had the notion that she’d never quite approved of Cryda binding to Aebba. For why, I could not say, since Aebba and the Dumnonii were known to be the wealthiest of all the tribes in the land. What mother wouldn’t want a secure place for her daughter? But then, he was not named Aebba the Wild for nothing. Perhaps she knew of his younger more wilful days while I was back in camp and away from the tall tales of his ill-advised gambles. I let the matter drop, choosing to steer the topic back to our quest.
Hylda had much to say about that too. “Cade tells me that you plan to ride all the way to the stones at the top of the world. You should have told the foreigner that the stones of the Seven Sister’s in your region had the same healing effects, or even the Men an Tol. At least then you could have shoved him through the round stone and be done with all the travelling. Not to mention that biting cold up there. You must be out of your mind.”
“It didn’t occur to me at the time, and I had no way of knowing that he would ask us to take him there.” It mattered little how I said it, Hylda made everyone seem idiotic. She had that interminable smugness old women get sometimes. It made me realise how I must sound to others when I am annoyed. I was starting to wish I was back on the beach with Renowden’s fresh catch of pollack.
Tallack rose from his bench and wandered over to us. “Catching up on old times, grandmother?”
She melted as he approached. Gone was the sour tongue and pinched face. “Dear boy. How proud we are of you and Blydh, working out your differences and sharing the role of Chieftain.”
His face dropped from the jovial clown to that of a concerned Metern. “It came at a steep price.”
I knew precisely what he meant. Hylda looked puzzled. It was then I realised that she had not heard about her granddaughter’s bid for supremacy. How Wenna directed her husband and warriors of the Durotriges Tribe to attack our settlements while we were all away at the midsummer gathering, or how she lost her life in the process. The whole event was still raw to me. I couldn’t face hearing it again, and so excused myself and went outside.
The night air was chilly, but a welcome relief from the warm smells around the Long Hut fire. When I turned the corner onto the planking, I spotted Jago outside too.
He hurried over to me. “Fur Benyn, is everything alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I just needed a breather from the Cantii intensity.”
“They were unkind to you?” Bless him, he didn’t understand my meaning. I smirked and he let the comment go.
“The big Chief here is trying to take over your quest.”
“How do you mean?”
“I was helping the Prince and his son to understand Chief Arundel’s speech. After a while, he said that he’d like Cade to go with you on the trip.”
“He probably means as a guide, to help broker a deal with the tribe north of here.”
“Hmm, no I don’t think so. He offered a lot of warriors and horses to go along too, so that you and Metern Tallack can return home.”
“Is that so? Was Tallack listening to this at the time, or was this a private conversation between Arundel and Suliaman?”
“It was private.”
That backstabbing brute. I thought that he would be an ally in this venture, not cut us out entirely. This situation needed careful handling if we were to retain control and garner Arundel’s support with horses and supplies. I returned to the Long Hut, positioning Jago behind the top table as my spy. No one thought it odd that he was there, since the Prince had grown used to his skill with languages.
When I thought that the Cantii were all busy eating, drinking and chatting amongst themselves, I pulled my nephew aside and told him about the plot.
“Are you sure Jago understood Arundel’s meaning? I can’t see him being so underhanded.”
“Can you not? The last time you saw him, he was an amiable uncle biding his time until his father gave up the Chieftain’s seat. You only ever saw the best side of him. Hylda tells me that petty jealousies and squabbling began the moment old Hale died. It sounds like it was worse than your Metern trial against your brothers. Arundel and your Uncle Lewin fought in single combat.”
“I wondered why I had not seen him about.”
“No, and I wouldn’t stir things up by mentioning the outcome either. Your younger uncle died in disgrace. They buried him in an unmarked pit next to the midden pile.” There was more than a hint of similarity between his own brother, Paega’s behaviour. I didn’t need to point it out to him. The difference being that Paega lived in exile. Who knows if the boy will find a way to wreak his revenge?
Tallack pulled a face. “Even still, I can’t let them take this opportunity away from us. I have to say something.”
I agreed. There was a need to clear the air and stand firm on our agreement. If the Prince abandoned us now, it would speak volumes about his character as a trade partner.
Hylda was at the top table whispering into her son’s ear. Every little while, she looked up at Tallack or me as she spoke. Her expressive brows were enough for me to realise that she was encouraging Arundel to force the Prince’s hand.
I turned to Tallack. “The sooner you raise the subject the better.”
He nodded to me and stood up with his cup raised. “Let us drink to our hosts in appreciation. True friends, true family and strong allies.” A roar of cheering followed and then a supping silence as everyone around drank their ale.
Tallack was not done. “To Arundel the Angry, may our continued alliance be an honest and fruitful one.” There was more cheering and supping. Hylda shot me a glare in warning. I had undermined her attempts to carry off the Prince. Arundel himself, wore a look of annoyance
at having his plans ruined. He gazed at Jago, knowing full well that he’d been the source of our information.
“Tell me, Uncle…” Tallack yelled above the clamour. “Do you wish that you were embarking on a trip such as ours yourself? Do you yearn for your early days of hunting and raiding?” We all knew that he was goading a response, but would his reaction be in anger, or diffused in mirth?
Maleek sat by his father’s side, analysing the stiffness of Arundel’s posture. If I had to guess, I’d say that the young foreigner was picking up our words quicker than Jago could translate them. He whispered into the Prince’s ear, who kept his sight fixed on the two Chieftain’s before him.
For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of temper cross Arundel’s face. If it was there, he did well to temper it, for he plastered a fake smile on his lips and stood up to match Tallack’s forthrightness.
“I am not that old, Nephew. I am still a warrior and more than capable of whipping your arse should the need arise.” He grinned to his elders and their families. They in turn rapped the tables and stamped their feet in support. “In truth, I do miss the travels and adventures. Now it is the duty of my sons to patrol the borders and forge new trade links. If it pleases you, Cade will act as your guide through the next territory. We have strong ties with the Catuve-Llauni north of here. Now that our mines are in working order again, we can supply a copper trove in tribute to them.”
Tallack listened to the carefully worded response. The Chieftain made certain to mention the plentiful metals that would lessen the Dumnoni reliance on the mountain tribe source of copper and remove the need for the agreement with the Prince. I watched my nephew mull over the information. It would not do to antagonise our hosts by accusing them of a plot against us. I hoped that he would steer the course carefully.
“Uncle Arundel, it gladdens my heart to hear that your copper deposits are worked efficiently once again. Our great families can provide the whole world with the means to forge bronze. We should sit down and plan out our long term aims for such a profitable alliance.” Tallack stopped speaking, waiting for a sign that the Cantii favoured an accord rather than hostility.
The pause was heavy with possibility. Tallack held his nerve and his cup high in expectation. When all was said and done, the Cantii still needed our tin. We held the upper hand.
“Fill my nephew’s cup. We have a lot to celebrate.” Arundel leaned across the table with his ale held out for Tallack to knock against his own. It was the closest thing to victory. I breathed deeply, in realisation that I’d been holding in stale air the whole time.
Hylda huffed her disgust. She was more ambitious than I’d credited her with. While the elders and our few men drank and cheered and filled their cups alongside the foreigners, she glowered just a short distance from my table.
When at last the noise died down, the old woman rose to her feet and pointed a bony finger directly at the Prince. “You’ll bring pain to my family and to those we call our friends. You mark my words; this curse will be the death of us all.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The feast did not continue for long after the shocking outburst of their wise woman of the tribe. Her words carried weight, especially with the elders, who made their excuses and left the Long Hut through fear and a growing sense of foreboding. Arundel made no attempt to gain say his mother, choosing to ignore her warning and covering his anxiety with more ale and raucous songs.
Tallack was quiet for the rest of the night. He brooded over the accusation and forbade Jago from translating to the Prince. When even the hardiest of revellers had supped their fill, furs and blankets were brought into the Long Hut and the tables and benches were stacked to one side. Jago busied himself, filling sacks with grasses and straw to lay on the rushes next to the fire.
I could tell that he was avoiding both Tallack and the Prince, choosing to see to my comfort before all else. His furtive glances towards Maleek and the Prince troubled me. His reactions in their presence were strained and twitchy. Catching him before he left the hut for more bedding, I asked why he was uneasy.
“It’s nothing, great lady. I will bring your kit to rest by your furs.”
“Out with it, boy. I know when you’re dodging me.”
“The Prince has asked for another animal to sacrifice. Something bigger than a seagull, since his last offering did not stop the sore on his neck from spreading.”
I peered over at the Prince. Maleek was stirring more poppy resin into the liquid in his father’s cup. Suliaman’s robes were pulled up over his shoulders, covering his throat. Either his vanity prevented him from revealing the extent of his curse or he feared that the Cantii would send him packing with such visible signs of suffering.
“Here, pass me my bag. I’ll give you some tin grains. Go and see if you can find someone to trade for a chicken.” Jago lifted my kit bag onto my lap. Digging in among the beakers and jars sealed with wax, I searched for what was left of my tin. The pouch had gone. I frowned up at Jago. “Have you moved my tin purse?”
“No, Fur Benyn. I haven’t touched your kit since we left the beach.”
Fearing the worst, I pulled out my knife wrap and unwound the leather folds. Each of my fine bronze knives appeared from the smallest chisel to almost my largest blade. The biggest of all was missing.
Jago held up his hands in supplication. “I haven’t taken it I promise. Please believe me, Fur Benyn. I would never steal from you.”
“Calm yourself, boy. I know that.” I sighed a long, exasperated breath. “You know who has got it though, don’t you?”
Jago nodded slowly. “The Lady Brea.”
I wondered how she intended to cross so many tribal lands on Cade’s horse without any metal, barring the gold bracelet, to her name. It’s a dangerous and long ride back to our homelands. She would have need of both my blade and my tin. If she does make it back to the River Exe in one piece, I had no doubt of her plans for Tallack’s twin, Blydh. We had set loose a desperate woman with no qualms about killing to achieve her aims.
I sent a brief message to the gods to keep him safe from her in our absence. The one thing Blydh had in his favour was a general lack of trust for anyone who was not Tallack or his mother. Perhaps that will be enough to preserve him.
I sought out my nephew and told him of Brea’s sticky fingers and the need to barter for a sacrificial bird. He shook his head in despair at her boldness and threw a pouch of his own tin over to me in recompense. With Jago on the lookout for a chicken in the dead of night, I watched the foreigners carry in the long armed, grinning statue and place it next to the fire in pride of place. The blood from the gull still stained its ghoulish face.
Suliaman’s warriors and servants knelt in front of the object and lowered their outstretched arms and heads to the rushes on the ground. A resonant metal drum was struck. The echo was hypnotic. The gong sounded a second time and Suliaman lifted himself from his tall chair and began to intone a prayer in his mother tongue. It lasted for such a long time. The drone lulled me into a trance like state.
Jago appeared shortly after, clutching a live cockerel by the feet and fending off its sharp beak with his fist. When he heard the incantation, Jago fell to his knees trembling. The chicken escaped his clutches, flapping about the stacked tables to roost. Maleek crouched low and dragged it by the neck to the statue. The curved blade was unsheathed again and the squawking bird was no more.
I’d dearly love to know what the Prince chanted, since the effect on Jago was profound. No amount of coaxing would induce him to tell me. Jago remained rooted to the floor long after the Prince had completed his ritual. Maleek approached me and bowed his head a little to speak with me.
“My father, please.” He gestured to his neck and then pointed to my kit bag. I knew what he was asking of me. Suliaman required more soothing burdock root.
Nodding, I grabbed my kit and gave Jago a shove. “Get up, lad. It’s all done with. Stop hiding and sort out the bedding.”
Re
peating the respectful head bow, I stood in front of the Prince and mimed the action of removing the material covering his neck. This he did with a little help from Maleek. The sore was weeping and much larger. With such an open wound, I feared that the burdock root might make things worse. Picking up the bundle, I pushed it away with my other hand and shook my head, dropping the burdock to the ground. The Prince frowned at me. From inside my bag, I took out a pot sealed with wax. It contained plantain and honey paste, mixed with goose grease. I chipped off the seal with my thumb and smeared a little onto the back of my hand, before pointing at his neck.
Suliaman’s healer stepped forwards. I could tell by his gruff manner that he was warning the Prince against using my ointments. It was understandable. I am a foreigner to them, although if we were to wish him harm, we would have attacked while Tallack’s men were still on the beach and outnumbered their warriors. It mattered little though, since Suliaman waved his healer away and nodded at my little jar of balm.
Shuffling closer, I gently applied some of the grease to the sore on his neck. I admit, the recipe is one of my mother’s and she would always complain about the stink. Maleek held his nose and pretended to cough. We all chuckled at his antics, especially Tallack. The closer I got to the Prince, the more I noticed peculiar symptoms. The lids of his eyes were pale and thin on the outside and yet, red raw on the inside. It was the same around the holes of his nose. This curse appears to attack a body from the inside out. What witchcraft could summon such powers?
When I’d finished treating him, I turned to Maleek and gave him the entire pot. By this time, our gestures and mimes were becoming a language all of their own. I clasped my hands together at the side of my face, closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. When I opened them, I stretched and yawned and then pointed to the balm before wiping my finger against my neck. He understood. The plantain paste would need reapplication morning and night.
