by Sam Taw
CHAPTER TWO
We trotted into the compound without anyone noticing. It was bad enough that there were no proper defence structures to keep our people safe, but to have no one on guard was far worse. As much as I wanted to get my secret off my chest, now was not the best time. Tallack kicked his horse and cantered through the boggy ground towards a small cluster of shelters. I watched him jump from his pony as it skidded to a halt. He poked his head through the closest of the tent flaps. His wild roar of anger brought many of the warriors out into the open to see who was causing the commotion.
“Where is my brother? Blydh, show yourself.” He bellowed, moving to the next tent in his search.
Blydh wandered up from the bank of the stream carrying the bloody haunch of a deer. “Ho there!” He grinned, speeding into a run. “Well met, dear kin. You took your time.”
Tallack fumed. His fists tightened at his side; his fast panting whistled through his nose as I caught up with him. “What do you call this?” He raised his arms at the state of the unfinished compound, the massive midden piles and the disorganised state of his lazy warriors. Some lay drunk outside their tents. Others lay on their bunks smoking hemp pipes.
“What? We have made good progress, don’t you think?” Blydh dropped the meat and his knife, ready to embrace his brother.
“This is not progress. This is a kyjyan mess. Why are your men lounging about doing nothing? Where are the watchmen, the smithies, the kyjyan fences? You didn’t even have scouts out warning you of our arrival.”
“They’re out hunting. There aren’t many of us to do all the work.” Blydh said, crestfallen. He approached me and touched his forehead to mine. “It’s good to see you, Aunt. I was beginning to think you’d abandoned us. When Tallack’s crew returned with the copper supplies, I was sure you’d been eaten by wolves or captured by the Skotek tribes at the top of the world. Come and tell us about your adventures.”
I stayed quiet. The boys had to work this dispute out between them. It was not for me to get in the middle.
Tallack rounded on his brother. “Where are my men? Why didn’t you command them to help you build?”
“They unloaded the copper and returned to your ships. They told me that you’d ordered them to make repairs over the winter.” Blydh’s temper altered. As far as he was concerned, he’d kept faithful to his brother’s orders.
“I did no such thing. Have someone fetch them. They’ll be flogged for this deceit.”
I hoped that Tallack would simmer down in the time it took to fetch his crewmen from the banks of the river near to the estuary. We needed to keep everyone on side if we were to defend ourselves against the Duro attack. Having his men whipped would only turn them against us.
Tallack tried to cool his anger, but his tone of voice remained harsh. “You have been here for many moons since riding from the mines at Bentewyn. Why is the compound not finished? Have you any idea the size of the Duro force gathered at our borders?” He hissed the words across clenched teeth. I stepped back, fearing it may come to blows.
“The Duros won’t attack until spring is full here. The catkins are barely out, brother, there’s plenty of time to prepare.” Blydh retrieved his blade and leg of venison, intent on continuing his butchery.
Tallack was too full of angst to form his words. He looked to me to convince Blydh of the urgency required in making battle plans. As loath as I was to speak, I knew that my words still carried weight.
“Nephew…” I called to Blydh. He turned back to face me. “Your brother speaks the truth. We have ridden south across the moors along our borderland. The Duros have amassed a mighty army of warriors, who as we speak are forging new weapons and training for the war ahead. It is not hard to see that they intend on slaughtering us all, and taking over our entire territory, mines and all.” I scrutinised Blydh’s expression. He had grown soft over the winter. His face had lost its lean appearance, the muscles in his arms and legs were weak and unused. His brow pinched in a frown as he listened.
“You have made an admirable start on rebuilding our home, but we must concentrate the entire tribe’s efforts on reinforcing our defences and stockpiling our food.” It was as gentle a scolding as I could manage. He was, after all, one of our leaders. It would not do for him to lose face. I ambled closer to him and rested my head on the side of his shoulder.
Without thinking, he put his arm about me and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re back, Aunt. We’ve needed the voice of reason around here.” Blydh steered me away from his ranting brother. “Come and see the hut I’ve had built for you and mother. I even had a crib made for the little one.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that a compound under attack, or siege even, was no place for Cryda and their tiny little sister. She hadn’t even been given a name. The entire situation required careful handling, and I was too tired to argue. I let my nephew take me to a fine new hut, with the fire stones laid neatly in the centre and a hurdle enclosure outside housing three goats. He’d thought of everything.
“Where is your hut, Blydh?” I looked up at his vacant eyes. There was a hollowness about him, as though he cared little about the duties laid at his feet.
“I have my tent. It’s all I need.”
I patted his chest as we entered the shelter. “This is a real home, Blydh. Your mother and I will be very happy here. Thank you.” His face lit up as though he’d been given a collar made of pure gold.
Pleased with himself, he swept aside the skins covering the doorway. “I’ll send one of my warriors with a stack of wood for your fire.”
He almost made it outside, when I felt compelled to call after him. “You will make things right with Tallack, won’t you? He can’t lead this war without you.”
Blydh stood still for a moment, considering my words, then left me alone. The hut was much larger than my old home. There was space for everything, even a bunk to tend the sick and injured. He really had thought of everything. A part of me was grateful that I could languish in my grief in such luxury, while another part wished he’d used the time and the wood to build a perimeter wall around the compound.
Tallack continued shouting his orders at Blydh’s men and causing more rancour between them. I should have picked my old bones up and smoothed over their disagreements, but I didn’t. The size and emptiness of the hut just reminded me of all that I’d lost. Herbs can be collected anew, seeds sewn, pots moulded and baked, tinctures and balms mixed, and skins cured, but no one could bring back my Jago. I took my furs from my pony and set him loose to graze by the riverbank, then returned to the new bunk to sleep.
It was dusk when I awoke. Without a piss pot, I had to venture out into the cold to relieve myself. The sky was clear and the grass was already freezing close to my door. Just as Blydh had promised, there was a stack of wood against the side of my hut, beneath the overhanging eaves of the thatch.
I could see that most of the men were sitting around a huge blaze, roasting the deer and swapping stories together. I took that to mean that the twins had put aside their differences and that work would begin in earnest on constructing the defences in the morning. It didn’t take me long to build a fire and climb back into bed.
When the moon was high in the sky, Tallack entered my hut and shook me awake. “Aunt Mel… are you unwell? Why didn’t you come to eat with us? I saved you a nice hunk of venison with roasted bull rush roots.”
I pulled my furs up over my head. “Not hungry.”
“But you haven’t eaten since that tasteless flat bread. Are you sick?”
“Sick of life, that’s all. Go be with your friends. Your crew will be keen to see you.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that. Cernonnus might hear you and carry you away in the night to the Underworld.” Tallack warned. It was something I used to tell him as a child whenever he said something unkind about his siblings and friends. He was trying to make me laugh, but nothing would melt my gloom.
“Maybe it’s time he did take m
e away. I’ve had a good life. These days are for the young to shape.”
“What utter kawgh! I need you to snap out of this, Aunt Mel. You’re the only one who can get through to Blydh. You know what’s coming for us. Please, Aunt Mel.” He leaned in closer and whispered through my furs. “You have to guide us, even when we think we know better, like you did for our father.”
I lay still under my furs. It hadn’t occurred to me that Aebba’s sons would notice my tiny nudges and course corrections whenever he was being stupid. His wives had little impact on his drunken ideas and foolish quests. I thought I’d been more discreet than that. Was he trying to shame me into helping him or liberally applying salve to my ego? He almost had me roused into action, until he mentioned the cause of my malady.
“Look, if it will make you feel better, I’ll ride out tomorrow and buy you a new slave. Two if it pleases you, but you have to pull yourself out of this misery. We’ll need your healing skills as much as your wisdom.” When I failed to move, he grabbed the edge of the furs and uncovered me. I gave him my blackest scowl and let my bones fall limp as he tried to pull me up out of bed.
“Grrr! Have it your way, but starving yourself is a terrible way to die.” He clomped across the rushes on the hard-packed floor and left.
Come morning, I heaved myself up and peered outside. The entire compound was filled with frozen mists against the orange glow of a low sun. It gave the whole valley a magical feel to it, as though some mystical creature might swoop down and pluck me off my feet while I crouched in the long grasses. As I staggered back towards my bed, I could hear the bustle of men at work, sawing, chopping and yelling at each other in the fog. Tallack must have stirred the warriors into work. Both he and Blydh would have to manage without me one day. I cannot live forever.
Lifting the door skins back with an armful of logs for the fire, I saw a brace of pheasants hanging under my eaves. Someone had left them there for my supper. I cast my eye about camp, but saw no one other than my own shadow. The kindness was wasted on me. I had no appetite. With the logs piled high on the fire, I drank a little stale water from my travelling bladder and returned to my bed.
All morning I napped between the disturbance of horses trotting past my hut, of axes falling on tree trunks and of hammers clanging in the new forge. Cursing my nephews for their tardy start to rebuild our community, I stuffed what cloth I had in my ears and tried to will myself back to sleep. Nothing seemed to shut out the noise. In a bitter mood, I dressed myself and sat by the fire sulking.
I could hear rustling and coughing outside my hut, but assumed that it was more of Blydh’s men shifting willow withies and posts for construction, until I heard a young voice call out.
“Pardon us, Fur Benyn. May we enter?” It was a girl’s voice.
I sighed. “Are you sick or injured?”
“No, Fur Benyn, neither.” A boy this time, but high pitched as though his voice had not yet broken.
“Then get off with you. Go on, scram!” It went quiet for a few moments. I expected to hear them moving away. Instead I heard them muttering to each other next to the doorway.
When I lurched at the door flap and drew it back, I immediately felt wretched. These filthy children were no more than skin and bone, their clothes in tatters and barely enough to cover them, let alone save them from the cold. I took in a slow breath of air.
“Where have you come from?” I asked, cautiously examining them for signs of ague.
“Our owner from the large homestead on the other side of the river gave us to Chief Tallack in tribute. He sent us to you.” The boy said, casting his eyes down at his feet. The girl was less cowed by my gruff manner.
“What are your names?” I looked at the girl first, narrowing my eyes. My she was a wilful one. I could just tell by looking at her.
“Finola.” She stared right back at me.
I had to stop myself from grinning. “That’s not a Dumnoni name. Where are you from?”
“Stolen away from my mammy in Iwerdon.”
“Hmm.” I glared at the boy. “And you? What do they call you?”
“If it pleases you, Fur Benyn, you can call me Jago.”
That was all I could take. “Oh no. Scat, be off with you both. Tell Chief Tallack that I don’t want you.”
The boy fell to his knees in a fit of tears. “Please, don’t send us away. We’ll be beaten. You can call us whatever suits you. We’ll do all your washing, hunt for your supper, anything, please.” The streaks of tears left clean patches on his grubby face.
It was a pitiful sight. The girl folded her arms across her chest. She was not bothered in the slightest at the prospect of a beating. No doubt she had suffered far worse in her time. Most slaves did. Softening a little to the child’s plight, I dragged him to his feet by the scruff of his tunic and told him to dry his eyes. With my wooden pattens covering my feet, I marched them through the mud to the bank of the tributary that brings our water. Here I found a number of row boats tied to a jetty, and a young crewman whom I knew vaguely.
“Treeve, isn’t it?”
The lad jumped up from the boat and straightened his backbone, though he barely stood taller than I. “It is Fur Benyn. Is there anything you need?”
“Only the whereabouts of Chief Tallack.” I growled.
The young sailor pointed to a tent further along the bank. I nodded my thanks and prodded the slaves in the same general direction. When we were outside the shelter, I bellowed my nephew’s name at the top of my voice. He came running outside as though his arse was on fire.
“What? What is it? Are the Duros raiding us?”
“Not yet, but you might wish they had by the time I’m done with you.” I shoved the slaves towards him. “You can’t just replace one slave with another and expect my grief to disappear.” I began to walk away.
“But I thought you’d be happy with my gifts. They will take care of you until you feel better.”
“I’m not ill, my Chief.” I said the last bit in such a spiteful way, he looked hurt. “And mind you don’t beat them or I’ll know about it. It’s not their fault that their Chiefs are kyjyan idiots.” No one followed or rebuked me. I had little hope left in me anyhow. My heart was broken. I thought then that they may as well do their worst. I got a couple of cart lengths away and then I turned and shouted. “When you find your brother, bring him to my hut. I have something important to tell you both.” Trudging to my shelter, I started to have doubts about my plan to tell all. What if they decided that my punishment was a slow and agonising death rather than a quick beheading? The boys were keen on making an example of their enemies, not least the woman they drowned at the low tide mark after I had falsely accused her of murdering their father. Had I sealed a similar fate for myself, or worse?
I paced about my hut and built up the fire to keep busy and take my mind off what I had to do. Unrolling my knives, I was about to collect the pheasants to prepare them for a meal when Blydh and Tallack arrived. Their glowers were not surprising, given the way I had treated them both. Rather than coming straight to the point, I found myself blathering about their gifts and apologising. It turned out that I didn’t want to die after all.
“I am sorry for my dreadful mood and the way I have behaved. I am grateful for the hut and the wood, the slaves and the pheasants, it’s all far more than I deserve.” I took a deep breath to steady myself.
“What pheasants?” Tallack looked at Blydh who shrugged. “What critical thing did you need to tell us both?”
There it was. A direct question that I couldn’t avoid. It was now or never. “Your father’s second wife, the Lady Eseld did not murder him. I made a terrible mistake. Brea poisoned his stew and cast all suspicions her way. Like the old fool that I am, I was taken in by her schemes and planted evidence.” The Chieftains stood by my fire, each with their mouths gaping in disbelief. When Blydh’s brow wrinkled up with a seething fury. I knew that I’d lost their favour.
“Go ahead.” I stated. “I d
eserve it, but I beg you to make it quick.” I closed my eyes and jutted out my chin, expecting to hear him unsheathe his blade.
CHAPTER THREE
The longer I waited there with my eyes tight shut and my knees trembling in fear, the more I was convinced that they would make me suffer. When I heard my bunk creak, I opened one eyelid and peeked out. Both of my nephews sat on the edge of my bed. Neither had their swords in hand. Confused, I looked at both of them to judge their state of mind.
Tallack seemed to be near to tears. Blydh smouldered with a burning hatred, but whether that was for me or aimed at Brea, I knew not. Afraid to break the spell and send them into a spiral of killing, I didn’t move.
In the low fire light, Tallack twisted to face his brother. “Father is not in the Summerlands with our ancestors. He roams the Between Worlds still.”
Blydh nodded slowly. “We killed the wrong wife.”
“At least you didn’t sleep with his murderer.” Tallack rubbed his forehead, gently shaking his head. “What have we done?”
This, I was not expecting. They appeared to be taking the entire blame on themselves. Daring not to move, I waited. There was still time for them to take out their malice on the stupid old lady who believed the lies of our arch enemy.
My mistake cost more than their father’s entry into the Summerlands, it sent his killer into the arms of the Durotriges. With her guidance, they would have the location of every one of our settlements, all their weaknesses and treasures. In holding my tongue for so long, I had set loose a stone-cold killer.
“Why did you not tell us, Aunt?” Tallack enquired.
“Jago and I saw Brea drop a hair clip he’d made for the slave cook, Gwyn.” I began.
“The one who made delicious squirrel stew?” Tallack asked.
I nodded. “Brea murdered her to stop her from telling me that she’d seen Brea dropping berries into the stew pot. We only found this out after you had carried out Eseld’s punishment on the beach. She made it clear that if Jago or I said anything, we would be next.” The relief of unburdening my secret to them was immense, but short lived. Now that they had the facts, I was sure that Blydh would dispatch me with a single glancing blow of his short sword. My mouth dried and I was dizzy with panting.
