by Sam Taw
I wanted to be the bigger person and forgive him. I wanted to say that he was acting through duty and honour to his father, but I could not get the memory of Jago’s slashed throat from my mind. In a form of truce, I shook the man’s hand, not as we do, with our forearms aligned on top of each other, but as they do, palms together and locked with fingers.
Before I let go of his hand, his sleeve slipped up his arm, revealing a circular patch of pale skin. It took all my powers of self-control not to betray what I had seen. The earliest stages of Suliaman’s curse had passed onto Maleek.
After all they had done to appease their despicable god, to lift the bane of Byblos. They had sacrificed my most beloved Jago, and all for nothing. Maleek would die in the same agonising, face eating and limb numbing way.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Was this Cernonnus’ way of redressing the balance? Had he heard all my prayers to seek vengeance on these mild-mannered foreigners? These people who appear so civilised and learned, while thinking nothing of killing babes in arms?
I tried to think with a cool head and a lighter heart about our own priestly practices. We too could be equally barbarous in the dispensing of justice or the offerings to our gods. Were we any different? Maleek mounted a pony with his golden skull and set off towards the moorlands with Cade, Idina and her maidens.
Tallack and I rode south along the borderlands. We didn’t get far before Tallack spotted several smoke trails coming from the next valley. Kicking our heels into the horse’s sides, we pushed them hard to the top of the hill, and were shocked by what we found.
As far as the eye could see, were rows of tents and shelters and smithies. Lines of young men faced woven targets as they practiced their aims with longbows and arrows. Boys lunged at one another with wooden swords and spears, horses were broken in and made used to noise and fire. All manner of battle preparations were underway, and all under the Durotriges banner.
The most disturbing of all, was how close we had ridden to the Chieftain’s tent. He stood on a platform outside, supping ale from an antler cup and bellowing orders at those before him. This was the grizzly husband of Tallack’s sister, Wenna, who lost her life in a skirmish over our mines. This was the man who hated the very thought of us. This was the man, whose tall chair sat next to a familiar woman from the Ordoviches Tribe. Brea had joined our enemy.
My breath left my body and anxiety took its place. She knew everything about our tribe, where our boats docked, when settlements would be most vulnerable and much more besides. I admit that a small portion of me rejoiced in her betrayal. She no longer posed a threat to me for my mistake regarding her treachery.
A fleeting thought passed across my brain, urging me to confide my knowledge about her killing Aebba the Wild, but I pushed it back into the dark corners of my mind. It had been too long since his murder and of the punishment inflicted on the wrong woman in response. Tallack would know that I had kept this from him for all these moons. No, this was not the time to divulge all that I knew about the traitor.
“Is that… it can’t be Brea, can it?” Tallack said, pulling his horse back behind a thicket of shrubs.
My mouth hung open and I was silent for a long time, absorbing all that I could see. Standing next to Brea’s chair was another of our family, one with a greater claim to vengeance than I.
“More importantly,” I gasped. “What is your half-brother doing there, and with the sword I found at the lakes near to Stonehenge?”
***
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For more information on the rest of the series, please go to: https://www.carantocpublishing.com/sam-taw
The next book in the series is entitled Pagan Revenge
Three Enemy Tribes.
Two Squabbling Chieftains.
One Shattered Skull.
Wise woman, Meliora is grief-stricken and angry. Her nephews can’t agree over how to protect their people from imminent attack. The camp is in chaos and more vulnerable than ever.
A deal made in haste with their allies from the top of the world could be their salvation or their downfall. Have they opened their doors to friends or foes?
Can they defend themselves against such overwhelming odds?
Grab book three in the Tribes of Britain series and continue the journey into the brutal and thrilling lives of the Dumnonii.
Universal link to Book Three:
Pagan Revenge:
JOIN MY READERS’ GROUP AND RECEIVE THE EXCLUSIVE STORY, 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.
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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:
https://www.carantocpublishing.com/sam-taw
For information regarding the work of Sam Nash, please visit:
https://www.samnash.org
