by Sam Taw
I turned to Derwa at the northern point. “Who speaks for Cerridwen, mother and crone, keeper of the cauldron of knowledge?”
Derwa stepped forwards and placed the remaining milk and bread next to the crib. “I assure the protection of the mother; may she always have food and love.” She kissed the babe’s hands, and then dipped her fingers into the milk and dripped a few drops into her mouth. Many of the elders made affirmative noises and cooed at the happy child from outside the circle.
I turned to Tallack at the western limit. “Who speaks for Aranrhod, Goddess of Fertility, Rebirth, Fate and Time?”
“I assure the protection of the moon, may this circle of silver give you fertility and good fortunes through the seasons, rest throughout the night, and all the blessings of calm seas.” Tallack slipped the bangle over the babe’s wrist and smiled at her. She treated him to a giggle and splutter in return. With a single pace backwards, he clasped hands with Derwa, linking the north and west quarters of the circle.
Next was Cryda’s turn. I faced her and nodded. “Who speaks for Cernonnus, God of All Things Wild and of Death and the Underworld?”
Cryda hesitated, it was a dangerous moment, allowing one so powerful to open a pathway from our ancestors to our newest member of the tribe. Her nervousness was mirrored by some of the elders’ wives, who could relate to her anxiety. “I assure her protection and a place within our family and our tribe. We welcome her now and always. May she hear our wisdom, speak from the heart and summon our strength and courage to guide her.” Cryda stepped up to the ivy braid and unwound a small section to allow the spirits of our loved ones to see her. This she did for just a moment, fearing that the protection from this potent plant might be breached, before closing the braid once more.
“That’s long enough.” I whispered to her. “We must close the pathway to the Underworld quickly.”
Nodding in agreement, Cryda stepped back and held Derwa’s other hand, linking three of the quarters together. Blydh held the key to that closure. The power of our sun god. I looked at him and he swelled with pride. This was the task normally assigned to his father.
“Who speaks for the Mighty Lugh, Keeper of Love and Light?”
Blydh did not wait for me to signal a start. He moved with haste to the crib and placed the sun disc next to her head. “I assure the protection of the sun, may this golden disc chase away all darkness and evil that may lurk, may she master many skills, always be warm, and be as fierce a warrior as her father. I close the gateway to the Underworld, in the name of Lugh.”
All had gone without a hitch, and I had begun to relax to my task. “The four of you are guardians of this child. Give her name now, so that the gods may call upon her.”
Blydh held his brother and mother’s hands closing the four quarters of the circle.
Together they chanted, “We name this child, Delen of the Dumnonii.”
Every elder, warrior and slave replied. “Welcome to our tribe, Delen of the Dumnonii.” Then, one by one, the elders stepped into the salt circle and rested their hands on one of the guardians. Those at the back touched the shoulders of those in front, until the entire circle was filled with Delen’s tribe. All were her family; all would love and protect her.
There was a moment of rapturous applause and foot stamping, before the laughter and gift giving commenced. My job was done. I picked Delen up from her crib and cradled her in my arms. Jogging her up and down, I walked closer to Blydh. “Did you want a cuddle with your new charge?”
Blydh scooped up a cup of ale from a passing slave and drank the lot down. “I’d love to, Aunt, but I can’t right now. I have somewhere to be.” He called out to his warriors, one of whom whistled to another outside. Within moments, a group of horses appeared at the doorway to the Long Hut, decked out with provisions and enough weapons to last a lifetime. He kissed his mother’s cheek, threw his cloak about his shoulders and ran outside to his pony.
I tried to follow, but with Delen in my arms, I could not run. “Tallack you must stop him; he cannot go off like this.”
“How do you expect me to do that, Aunt? His mind is made up.”
“But the Duros will kill him on sight.” I sank down on to a bench, clinging hold of the child. “All my scheming had come to nought.”
CHAPTER NINE
For a short while, my desperation overcame me. I sat imagining all the horrendous things that the Durotriges and Brea might do to my nephew if they caught him alive. With such vengeance in their hearts, there was no telling what devious torture they would inflict on his body and mind. There was every chance that Blydh and his men were riding headlong into a trap. I closed my eyes and recalled my youth.
Blydh had so much in common with my brother, Cador the Cruel. He would often pile into battle without thinking things through first, or searching for an alternative to fighting. He’d return from raids with gashes the length of his torso and far fewer men than he set out with. Back then, he kept me close by to stitch him up so that he could begin another campaign.
Blydh would be half a day’s walk away from help. Even if he kept enough blood inside him to mount his horse, the ride back to camp would be the end of him. I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. Passing the child to her mother, I helped myself to a couple of roasted pheasant legs, a thick slice of pork, and a small loaf and excused myself from the party.
Tallack called after me. “You can’t leave now, Aunt, the merriment has yet to begin.”
“I’m going after your brother. Someone has to pick up the pieces when it all goes to kawgh.”
He flicked his wrist at Kewri to go with me. I’d forgotten all about my shadow. He was proving a useful addition to my household, and given his size and strength, I would need him if I was to stop Blydh.
Standing on tip-toe, clutching the food, I yelled over the elders’ heads. “I need to borrow a couple of things, Nephew. I’ll bring them back.” Without waiting for his permission, I hurried from the hut with Kewri scurrying after me.
While I fetched my healing kit, knives, and packed the food, I sent him to collect my horse and find one able to withstand his hulking mass at a canter. There was no time to lose. If we could get within spitting distance of the border, I could be on hand to patch Blydh and his warriors up, should they make it out of the Duro camp alive.
It was tough going in the dark. My sight is not what it was in my youth. The only other option was to take the Chieftain’s cart and horses and stick to the longer trails, but that would have slowed us down. I figured that if my pony could not see the track clearly, neither would Blydh’s. It was cold too. The hoarfrost branched out in spikey white fronds from trees and bushes, casting eerie shadows in the waning moonlight. There would be no fires to thaw us out at the end of our journey either.
Kewri was a surprisingly good horseman, considering his bulk. He’d chosen one of Tallack’s large set horses usually reserved for pulling the wagon. It might not have been as fleet as some of the other ponies in the enclosure, but its back was broad and its muscles stout. What it lacked in speed it made up for with stride. Together we navigated the frozen ruts in the track and pushed hard to narrow the distance between us and the warriors.
From what I’d learned from the scout delivering news about the Duro’s new position, I guessed them to be close to the River Sid. That would give them access to the coast and their ally’s ships further south, plus a plentiful supply of fresh water past the tidal wash. The moon was already creeping over the compound walls when we left. It was higher still as we passed the last of the homesteads nearer to the borderlands. Most families had moved from the area since Blydh and his Head Hunter Clan had ceased their border patrols. Duro raiding parties were too fond of taking their women and cattle and burning their shelters to the ground.
We galloped across flat fields and picked our way through marshier areas with care, until I could feel that we were closing in on Blydh’s men. The River Sid had been the boundary between our tribes since Aebba firs
t became Metern to the Dumnonii after Cador’s reign. On our side, we allowed the forest to grow lush, giving our warriors plenty of cover and access to good hunting on their patrols. Now it hid the Duro’s camp. There was no way of telling their precise whereabouts. With the need to coordinate with the Ivernii in their boats, I guessed that they were not too far inland.
The natural slope of the valley flattened to a wide flood plain, with good fishing and closer to the shoreline, excellent salt pans. As a defensive position, they had the upper hand. Their scouts and watchmen would spot Blydh and his men crossing the river and galloping towards them from some distance. They would most likely take an arrow to the heart before making it half-way across. The more I thought about it, the more I fretted.
When we entered the dense forest of the western slope of the valley, I knew that we had to be close. The thick undergrowth of unused trails slowed us down to a trot. Not that the horses were complaining. We knew we had driven them hard, their flanks foamed with sweat and their breath froze as a fog. My hips ached and I had a raging thirst, but we couldn’t afford to stop.
It was when we saw the glow of the Duro’s camp fires through the trees, that we knew we had arrived. Blydh had to be close by. Kewri and I dismounted, leading the ponies through the woodland as quietly as we could manage.
We walked upstream for a short time, keeping within the cover of the shrubs and watching out for Duro scouts. In the dim moonlight, I could just make out a crossing, built from two felled trees and planking between them. With a mound of soil and gravel either side, it looked to me as though it was sufficient to pull a cart across.
These people meant business. They had guards stationed each side, with long bows, axes and short swords. Their ramparts were extensive, lined up without gaps along the edge of their outer shelters. Even a temporary camp like this was well organised and stacked with defensive structures.
There was just one weakness that I could discern. The largest of their tents, which I took to be the Chief’s, was right at the edge of the marked-out area. Normally, I’d expect to see that right in the heart of the shelters, protected by all those around. They were densely packed too, as though they were short of space.
Where was Blydh? It was possible that he had led his men further north to cross at a narrower point. That way he could sneak around any weaker defences on the eastern fringes. All we could do was watch and wait. If we crept any closer, our whinnying horses would give us away. If we left the ponies in the woodland and climbed down into the frigid water, our splashes would be heard.
Tying the horses up out of sight, I crouched by the riverbank and wrapped my cloak about my legs. My teeth chattered and my calves cramped but I dared not move in case I missed my nephew. Kewri moved a couple of flat rocks for us to sit on and passed me some of the food from my bags. He had no trouble in wolfing down his share of the pheasant, but I could only manage a few bites. It stuck in my throat I was so shaken from fear.
I started to regret announcing that I no longer believed in the gods. At little Delen’s ceremony, I just went through the motions to please everyone. I never for one moment thought that Cernonnus might unleash demonic spirits into our Long Hut to capture her soul.
We continued to watch late into the night, when their torches burnt out and their fires were nothing but embers. That was when the last of the revellers and drunkards dozed in the closest shelter, or returned to their largest Chieftain tent to sleep. I figured that the guards were on a rota, swapping when the length of a particular tallow candle had fully extinguished. We didn’t get the chance to find out.
Kewri nudged me in the ribs. “Over there, Fur Benyn.” He pointed towards the southern end of their camp. Blydh and his men had crossed lower downstream and were now crawling across the frozen grass towards their ramparts. I held my breath.
The silver locks of Renowden’s hair glinted in the moonlight. A part of me was relieved that Blydh had taken someone of his age and wisdom, another part of me wished that Ren had talked him out of the raid altogether. He was surprisingly nimble on land, considering he’d spent much of his time with the Sea Warriors. His stealth put him right at the back of the first watchman.
I could hardly bear to watch, as Ren reached up and grasped his hand over the guard’s mouth, silencing the screams as he swiped his blade through the man’s throat. Two more of Blydh’s men did the same, clearing all the lookouts from the southern corner of the camp. Blydh slipped under the wooden spiked structure and beckoned his men to keep low and follow him. I counted the silhouettes before they slashed into the skins at the back of the Chieftain’s tent. He’d taken just eight of his men, including Renowden. For a long moment, nothing happened. All was silent and still and I swear my heart stopped along with the fearsome inactivity.
I stood up, shaking the blood back into my limbs, just as the tent rent open. Three large figures spilled out through the gap, clawing, punching and slashing at each other in the darkness. In the tangle of bodies, I couldn’t see who remained lifeless on the ground when the other two stood up and charged back into the tent. The commotion awoke all those in the Chief’s shelter. I had a feeling that Brea would have her own tent. There was no sign of her at all, but I did recognise two of the other men drawing their weapons and facing up to Blydh and his men.
One of the young warriors was my banished nephew, Paega. He brandished the long sword he’d stolen from a hiding place in the mining community. Its shining surface was unmistakable. The man to his left, was Paega’s uncle from the Priest Sect. He was a renowned warrior of some standing. This was exactly what Blydh had been hoping for, a chance to fight his half-brother on an equal footing. He encircled Paega, drawing him further from the restrictive space and the shreds of skins from the tent. Renowden faced Paega’s uncle, while the rest of the men swung their axes about keeping all others at bay.
By now, word spread about camp that they were under attack. More warriors rushed into the Chief’s tent to help, but found themselves funnelled into a narrow gap between the shelters. It was too tight a space for more than a few men to enter the fray. At least that was one factor on Blydh’s side. Renowden and his foe were evenly matched. Barring exhaustion, neither man seemed able to gain an advantage over the other.
Blydh shifted his axe from hand to hand, lunging and then pulling back from Paega’s reach. When he tired of taunting the lad, he lifted the great bronze blade over his head and brought it down with all his might towards Paega’s head. His brother had time to position himself, raising the long sword to meet the axe. The noise it made on contact was chilling. The bronze axe cracked, and then splintered into a dozen or more pieces.
Kewri gasped at my side. “How in the name of Cernonnus…?”
My heart pounded out of my chest. Paega looked at his blade as though he had no idea of its power. It gave Blydh a moment to absorb what had happened. How was this possible? Our forged bronze was the best in the land. His axe was stronger than any other in our tribe. Armed with nothing more than the wooden handle and a knife, Blydh dodged his half-brother’s ineffectual swipes to his torso and retreated to find another sword.
Renowden held his own, while three of his comrades fought bravely alongside, slaying more than five men each. Despite their superb efforts, those that were killed were replaced by the never-ending stream of warriors piling through the tent. Blydh took one of their spears, jabbing it into any man who dared to approach. Paega melted into the crowds and disappeared. He’d had his taste of battle and found luck, or the gods, on his side. He clearly was not about to tempt fate.
Blydh lunged with the spear, sticking one man through the face, another through the gut and slashing the throat of a third. He did not notice a fourth man sneaking up behind.
Ren was still battling the Priest Warrior. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of dry chalk, throwing it into his opponent’s face. The temporary blindness was enough for Ren to drive his blade right into the man’s chest. Paega’s uncle fell to
his knees, gasped through the foam of blood oozing from his mouth, before crashing to the floor.
Shoving his foot on the man’s shoulder, Renowden wrenched his blade from the bloodied torso and turned to help his Metern. Blydh was defending himself from three men at once. Ren decapitated one with a single back-handed swing of his blade, another Blydh stabbed in the eye. Neither he nor Blydh saw the warrior approaching from the shadows holding a massive hammer.
“No, no, no!” I cried, seeing the horror unfurling before my eyes.
Renowden turned to see the hammer connect with Blydh’s skull. The crunch was sickening. The blood spurted in all directions, spattering Renowden’s face and chest as Blydh toppled to the floor. I swallowed back bile. Tears fell in torrents down my face. It was all over, it had to be.
Kewri peeled off his cloak and jumped down into the river. “He ain’t dead, Fur Benyn. I saw him move.”
Leaping to my feet, I was all set to follow, but Kewri barked at me to stay where I was. I watched the sweet giant wading through the strong currents, just as Renowden skewered Blydh’s attacker with a spear. There were too many to fight. While the two injured protected Blydh’s body, another two warriors fought the barrage of Duros at the mouth of the tent. Renowden grasped Blydh by the wrist and dragged him towards the ramparts and back to where they came.
Kewri stomped as fast as he could across the grass, punching out anyone within the vicinity. He was a one-man killing machine. When he reached our warriors, he crouched down, grabbed Blydh by the arm and yanked him over his shoulder. Ren and the three remaining warriors ran. Kewri neither slowed nor tired. He grappled Blydh’s body until he was cradled in his arms, keeping his head above the water as they crossed the River Sid. I untethered the horses and waited close by.
How could my nephew survive such a devastating blow to the skull? At the very least, his head would be fractured, blood loss severe, but we had to try. Paega reappeared with fresh torches, hurling rocks and shouting insults over the field, but he did not follow them. Neither did he seem especially bothered by the death of his uncle, lying mangled at his feet.
