by Sam Taw
I slept ill that night, pondering the discrepancies between Suliaman’s health and the size of the sacrifice offered to their god Melkarth. Even at our most sacred gatherings at midsummer around the great cursus before entering the grounds at Stonehenge, our gods only expected a few drops of blood freely given by our own hand. What kind of wickedness would expect a beloved child to bleed out over the statue?
In the morning, Renowden set to work with his bone hook and line. Jago gathered what branches and dried reeds he could find to rekindle the embers to cook a few small fish. Suliaman ate nothing. The water bladder containing the hop tonic was tucked at the side of his legs, and every so often he would grumble at one of the warriors to help him remove the stopper so that he could drink. From his poor temper and snappy responses, I figured that the resin had fully worn off and he was feeling its absence. I went to make water of my own in the dunes, and returned to find him peaceful and with drooping eyelids. He must have taken another dose.
We set sail soon after we’d eaten some of Renowden’s catch, letting the ocean current sweep us along the shore in a northerly direction. By mid-afternoon, we’d drifted and paddled until the coast was barely visible on our starboard side. Huge peaks rose into the cloud in the distance in shades of dark green and grey. Ahead of us, the skies were black with winter weather. The rain held off until it was almost dark. The fishermen in the lead boats insisted that we pulled into a narrow cove, allowing the storm to pass through during the night.
As the warriors lifted Suliaman and his chair onto land, I heard Renowden arguing with the fishermen. Idina rushed to his side to smooth over any tensions, but within moments, she too raised her voice to them.
“What is all this fuss?” I yelled above the clamour, holding my arms up to silence the lot of them.
“They are demanding their payment now.” Renowden told me.
I turned to Idina. “Didn’t you say that they would get their tin when we were safely delivered to the Skotek Isles?”
She exhaled a noisy breath and stuck her hands on her hips. “I did, but they are refusing to take us any further.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“What possible excuse have they got for breaking their word?” I fumed.
Idina narrowed her eyes at the tallest of the fishermen. It was obvious that this was the fellow with whom the bargain was struck. “This one says that he couldn’t understand my accent, reckons that his deal was to get us this far only.”
“And how much are we expected to hand over to get us the rest of the way?” I too fixed the man with my most evil glare.
“Nothing. They refuse to sail any further north than this point. Apparently, it is risking life and limb both from the currents and in meeting up with the Skotek tribes.” Idina was infuriated. She clasped her hand to her forehead and wandered off, overwhelmed with the whole debate.
“Give us what you owe, old woman, or we’ll take it from you.” The tallest fisherman said, emboldened by the presence of us women.
Renowden snarled, unsheathed his dagger. In a flash, he grabbed the back of the man’s head and held the blade against his throat. “Just you try it, you lying kyjyan!”
Cade and the warriors saw the scuffle, each of them drawing their blades and bearing down on the fishermen. Those that were not held captive by Renowden, fled. They ran down the beach to their boats and pushed them into the surf. We’d lost our transportation and guides.
Maleek called the warriors back to the Prince’s chair. He’d slumped to such an extent that his back was arched over the seat, his legs folded beneath him and his knees embedded in the wet sand. Between them, they lifted him up. One of the warriors gestured to Suliaman’s nose, it ran with red humours across his mouth and down his neck.
The Prince raised a claw hand to his nostrils, and examined the blood soaking into his sleeve. He was declining at an alarming rate. Even in the poor light, I could tell that his skin had thickened on his face and took on a strange yellow hue. That was a known sign that the bad humours were pooling inside him.
Tallack approached Maleek. “I can carry him down to the water’s edge and we can bathe him together?”
The Prince’s son barged past him, connecting their shoulders with some force. “I don’t need your help.” His rebuff could not have been more forceful. Tallack’s expression fell from bubbly and hopeful into dejected and hurt. To my knowledge, my nephew had never experienced the loss of affections from a lover before. It had always been he who rejected others.
We all stood and watched as Maleek ordered one of his men to carry the shivering Suliaman to the breaking waves. The second warrior scampered off in search of driftwood and kindling.
“We cannot build a fire, Maleek.” Tallack ventured, his tone gruff and tetchy. “The smoke would give away our position.” Maleek turned away without rescinding the orders and followed his father down the beach.
Renowden blew out his cheeks, letting the captive fisherman flee. “I suppose I’d better see if I can catch us something to eat.” He didn’t wait for our answer, but wandered off towards the rocks at the side of the bay.
Jago stood in front of the statue. He was not much taller than the object as he stared down into its hollow eyes. What power baked clay has over his people is a mystery to me, but it is stronger than any tale of woe our tribe could relate regarding our own gods.
Idina, Cade and the maidens walked towards the cliffs in the hope of finding caves in which we could shelter for the night, leaving me alone with my nephew.
“I’m sorry, Tallack.” I said leaning my face against his shoulder as he gazed at Maleek in the distance. “I should never have asked you to come on this ill-fated quest.”
He thought for a moment, tipping his head onto mine. “You were not to know.”
“What shall we do now?” I asked, genuinely stumped as to how to solve our current dilemma.
“There is nothing to be done. Whichever Skotek tribe owns this territory will see the fire. We’ll be dead or slaves before daybreak.” His defeated attitude stunned me. This was not what I expected from the ever cheery Tallack. His ocean adventures and tales of the strange were just the tip of his exuberance. What had the foreigner done to him to lay him so low?
“Then you must stop them from lighting one.”
As I said it, he pulled away from me and wandered up the slope. “How?” Without a backwards glance, he walked over the ridge, and out of my sight.
My anxious state had me turning in all directions, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, and failing to think of a way out. We could not walk and carry that stupid idol, the Prince and our belongings all the way through the peaks of Skotek to an island crossing point. We had little enough tin on us to pay for the boats as it was. The Prince looked to be in the final stages of his illness, the curse had taken his senses, his strength and now filled him with bad humours. It would be less than a quarter moon before death.
We were so close to the top of the world; I could almost taste the victory. If only those Cornovi fishermen scum had kept their word, we’d be there in just two days. Tallack was right. We could do nothing but surrender to the inevitable and pray that Cernonnus would be merciful.
I sat at the high-water mark on a rock, watching, waiting and growing accustomed to the idea that I would soon join my ancestors in the Between Lands. There I would stay, until the gods decided whether I should sink into the Underworld, or rise with my noble blood into the fringes of the Summerlands. Either way, it was too late for me to right any wrong doings over the span of my long life. I can’t grumble about my lot. My sadness stemmed from the fate of my nephew, young Jago and to a certain extent, Idina and Cade. From what I hear about Skotek Tribes, a quick death was unlikely.
Against our advice and judgement, Maleek’s men lit a fire and dried off the Prince next to the warmth of the flames. His spine could no longer support his weight. As soon as they sat him upright, he crumpled in the middle, squashing his ribcage and ind
ucing a wheezing breath. Within a short while, the warriors had fashioned a stretcher from pine branches and bedding furs. A second contraption was created so that Maleek could carry the bloody idol on his back come dawn. They fully intended to walk all the way to the stones.
There were no caves, and no overhangs to shelter us from the strong winds and rain that night. Our only bright moments, were when Renowden returned to camp with a clutch of plump lobsters from the rocky shallows along the cove. They sizzled and cracked open from the hot rocks on which they rested in the fire.
Maleek tried to feed the Prince with a few soft flakes from the tail of his lobster, holding his feeble frame up to aid swallowing, but he choked every time. At that moment, I thought that our last meal in this world was fit for a Prince, and yet he of noble blood would have to resort to a thin grain porridge, baked in a beaker with a little of his hops water. He was even too sick to demand a sacrifice for the statue. Maleek didn’t seem to bother about ordering the warriors to find a creature to kill in his father’s fragile state, and we certainly didn’t encourage the practice.
Since our fate was almost a foregone conclusion, I slept well that night. The rain pushed through before we all bunked down for the evening, and the lobster filled my belly. I was content to leave the world as soon as the tribe discovered us, in the knowledge that I had spent a lifetime trying to do the right thing at every opportunity. What now became of my kin, was in their hands.
Jago jogged me awake when the sun was high enough to filter through the grey clouds. He handed me some of the reheated porridge that the Prince had not eaten. Our stuff was packed into bundles ready to strap to our backs. Bless him. He must have risen early to do all the chores while I slept. Rubbing away the salted crusts from my eyes, I blinked until I could clear my blurred vision.
The warriors were sliding Suliaman back into his stretcher furs under Maleek’s watchful glare. Cade, Idina and the girls were still sleeping on the other side of the fire. Renowden, was away from camp. I suspected that he was looking for more lobsters. Stretching and yawning, the elation hit me. I was alive, fed, warm and most of all, free. Our luck had held.
I handed my furs to Jago for packing and wandered up the beach towards a layer of shrubs. There was still a chance for us after all. Lifting my tunic and skirts, I squatted over the dead grasses and pissed. I tipped my head back and surveyed the high cliffs all around the bay, they stood sheer and imposing, silhouetted against the silver clouds.
As I straightened up, I saw them. More warriors than could be counted, lining the tops of the rocks. Every one sat on a horse, and all bore weapons of war. My elation was short-lived. Tallack was right all along. I hurried back to camp to warn the others, although there was no hope of escape, they had us fully surrounded with our backs to the sea.
I found Tallack laying across a small bolder with his eyes glazed and drool trickling down his chin. Kicking his feet, I yelled at him. “Rouse yourself, my Chief. We are under attack.” He moaned and rolled over until his face was fully embedded in the sand. My little pot of resin fell from the crook of his elbow. He’d taken enough to knock out a whale. Further kicks to his shins gained little response.
I shook Cade and the women awake and alerted Maleek to our predicament. His warriors stood guarding the Prince with spears and swords as he lay on the ground, not that they would stand a chance against such opposition.
“Maleek, tell your men to stand down and surrender. There are too many to fight.” I took the moments before the tribe reached us, to slip the poppy resin into my medical kit, and hide a blade in my cloak pocket. I could see their Chieftain and his stocky protectors, riding into camp. With a little sea water collected in my beaker, I emptied the lot onto Tallack’s head to waken him to our unwanted visitors. He sat up as the Chief and his men encircled us around the fire.
The man in charge took a slow trot around us all, analysing each of our faces and state of wellbeing. His long hair and beard were braided with gold beads, his chest covered in a shaped plate of bronze. It was a simple but ingenious way to stop fleet arrows piercing his heart. The value of the metal alone was easily equal to the shield and long sword Aebba the Wild had made to pay his entry into the Summerlands. Only a Chieftain could afford such luxuries.
Those following him, seemed to have a similar confidence and swagger. By the way that they looked and spoke to the Chief, I surmised that they were his sons.
Cade stood up in front of the women to speak. “Great Chief, we come here in pilgrimage to the Skotek stones on the isles at the top of the world.”
The Chief listened for a moment or two and then pulled on the reins to halt his steed at Cade’s feet. Leaning forward over the pony’s neck, he squinted at him, but said nothing.
Cade took a stumbling pace backwards. “We paid all our metal to Cornovii fishermen to take us directly to the island, but we were duped. They dumped us here on your land. We would never have trespassed without consent or tribute otherwise.” Cade held up his hands in surrender. The Chief kicked the horse’s flanks, urging it closer to Cade’s face and hemming him in against the fire.
“Forgive us, merciful Chieftain. We bear the flag of truce.” Cade’s arms flailed about as he hopped over the flaming branches and embers to safety.
The Chief almost smiled. Yanking the reins, he closed in on our foreign companions. He took in their strange clothes and dark skin with raised brows. The warriors moved in unison, aiming their spears and taking a battle stance. This provoked a full chuckle.
He turned to his sons on horseback behind him. “Kill the men, take the women as slaves. Burn that sickly one over there and carve the rest up for the pigs. Can’t waste good meat like that.”
Two rangy men hopped down from their ponies and shoved Cade out of the way. More warriors joined in the struggle to capture Idina and the girls, while pointing their spears and swords at Maleek and his men. Tallack, to my utter disgrace, still lay in the wet sand in a permanent addled haze.
Idina fought against a warrior who tried to wrestle her to his horse. She scratched his face as he tried to bind her wrists with leather strapping. He clouted the back of his knuckles across her face, almost knocking out all her senses. She fell to the floor holding her reddening cheek and opening her jaw to see if it was broken. Her maidens rushed to her side, fussing and crying and squealing with fear.
Something had to be done or we were all likely to end up on the funeral pyre. “You’d be wise to treat that one with some respect, Chief. She is the daughter of a wealthy southern tribal Chieftain. You could ransom her for a cart load of metal, provided that she is unspoiled and unharmed.” I had nothing to lose in my outburst. I fully expected to lose my life within moments, but if I could preserve one or two of them, I’d go to the Between World satisfied with my lot. “You’d get even more if you treat her maidens with honour too.”
From the way that the Chief snapped his head around at me, I figured that he was not used to being gainsaid, let alone by an old woman. He did to me, what he’d tried to do to Cade. The stinking hot breath of his horse covered me in vapours he pulled in so close. I fanned the stench away with my hand, but I held fast to my spot next to my nephew.
The Chief peered at me, as if he was considering his options. I hoped that he might think my suggestion wise and agree, but that was not uppermost in his mind. “I know you.” His voice was almost a whisper. Although I heard it, I doubt others from his tribe did, as they were still yanking the arms off the women.
“Truly, I am sincere. Those women are valuable to their kin. If you harm them, they will gather the clans across all the midland and the south to come to their aid.” I aimed my attention at the young men who seemed more interested in lifting the skirts of the women to examine the spoils of war.
The Chief’s horse flared its nostrils in my face. He would not back away, neither would he take his focus off my features. I turned to face him, squinting up against the brightness from the sky. What did he want from me?
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br /> “I never forget a face.” It was another low murmur, but loud enough for me to hear. He was sure that we were acquainted, but for good or evil, I could not say. I have always tried to do what’s right by those who cross my path, but there have been testing times over the seasons, this being one of them. I feigned a confidence that I could not support inside. My stomach roiled about with the kind of bellyache that comes from an intense fright. His sons swung their weapons, cracking through their flimsy spears and beheading Maleek’s men without a second thought. Stepping over the bodies, the Skotek tribesmen approached Maleek. One crossed his arms over his chest to perform another swinging blow to the back of the foreigner’s neck. Maleek clasped his hands together in front of his chest and began to chant a prayer to his god.
“Wait, please…” I shrieked, hoping for a last-minute change of heart. “I beg you, do not kill this man. I gave him my word that I would take him to the healing stones at Callanish to lift a deadly curse from his father.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I reached out to the Chief, imploring him to stop the bloodshed. “Please…”
“Healing stones. That was it. You’re a healer.” The Chieftain waved at his son, who in turn lowered his blade. “That’s where I saw you… the midsummer gathering at Stonehenge when I was a boy. You healed my father.” The Chieftain dismounted from his massive horse and patted its neck. His accent was so strong, I had to pay close attention to what he was saying.
Still quivering inside, I chose my words carefully. “I am a healer and I have attended many midsummer gatherings in my time, but I cannot claim to remember every person that I tried to help.” I shrank back from him as he moved towards me. How could I recall all those summers ago, or whether I was able to save his father from whatever laid him low? “I am an old woman and my memory is not good. Forgive me.”
