Pagan Revenge

by Sam Taw

  Tallack edged forward in his tall chair, intrigued. “What have you in mind?”

  “When I was in the woods not a quarter moon ago, I saw a lone white stag as tall as a horse. His antlers had not yet dropped for the spring. I believe he revealed himself to me for this very purpose. It was the spirit of Cernonnus himself, telling me to retrieve his sword from Paega.”

  I amazed myself how quickly I could spin a yarn. From the expressions on the men’s faces all around me, I knew that they were taken in by my tall tale.

  Tallack grinned at me. “Well, Aunt, you are full of surprises. We will track this white beast at dawn, and I will have a pair of axes made from our finest metal using the hart’s antlers for the handles. We have our work cut out for us, men. This stag must be captured alive for the ritual.”

  I wanted to stay and tell him to send a hunting party, not to go himself. There was so much still to do. It would be far safer to send a few skilled trackers after the rare creature, leaving our Chief to direct the training in camp. I stole a glance up at Tallack. His rosy cheeks and raucous laughter put me in mind of his father. Aebba would not be moved when he’d had a skin full of ale and neither would Tallack. I had worn out my luck. Picking up the last of the bread and meats, I scurried out of the Long Hut.

  Renowden and a couple of the Sea Warriors had completed the wall around the spring head and were washing themselves in the crossing of the shallow stream near to the west gate. They looked beaten and in desperate need of rest.

  “Here, have this between you and then get some sleep. We will need all the men armed and ready to fight at a moment’s notice.” I handed the bowl to Ren and slunk back to my hut. Blydh was awake, but as far as I could tell by torchlight, his left eye was still blown.

  “Has he said anything at all? Does he recognise us?” I asked Kerensa, but her features gave me all the answer I needed. Blydh stared off into the distance with a vacant expression. I sat on the bunk next to him and peeled back the dressing. My stitches were holding well and not leaking vile smelling humours. I counted that as a blessing, although there did seem to be a lot of swelling around his scalp flesh which put pressure on the catgut.

  “Where’s Cryda?” I said, fetching a cup of water to try and tempt him to drink.

  “She’s gone to feed Delen and get a little rest. That new slave of hers brought the babe over here, but I sent her back out. I didn’t want the crying to disturb him.”

  Holding the back of Blydh’s neck I tilted his head up and touched the cup to his lips, hoping it would trigger a memory of how to drink. It didn’t. The water spilt down his chin and onto his chest. Without another case like this to compare recovery times to, I had no idea what to expect. Every attempt I made to pull him out of his daze, upset Kerensa even more. At length, I decided he would fare better without her tears.

  “Get yourself some sleep, child. I’ll send for you if he takes a turn for the worse.” I didn’t need to ask her twice. Alone with my patient, I tried to assess how bad his senses were. I took a lit torch and moved it from left to right in front of his face to see if his eyes would follow. No luck there. I clapped my hands together behind his head, but he didn’t react at all. After a while I gave up. He was starting to smell ripe and he’d pissed himself again. It took some time to clean him up, and with the help of Kewri, get him into a sitting position on my bunk.

  Kewri was so patient and kind, I am beyond grateful to him. He held Blydh in his arms while I changed the bedding and gently laid him back down beneath clean furs. As he let go of his legs, Kewri accidentally brushed Blydh’s foot. My nephew jumped, as though he’d been tickled. I uncovered his feet and stroked the undersides. Blydh did it again. His whole body jiggled from the sensation. He had feeling in his legs. I took out my bone needle and pricked his thumb. Blydh pulled his hand away.

  I was overjoyed with these responses. It gave me a little hope that he would recover further. Maybe when the swollen flesh had settled back down, he would fully wake. Kewri had rested during the afternoon and was happy to watch over Blydh while I got more sleep. I know I created a fuss over my nephew’s orders for him to follow me about for my protection, but I thank Cerridwen and all the goddesses combined for his help. The soiled bedding could wait until daylight. My poor body was beyond exhausted. Until it got the rest it needed, I was not fit to help anyone.

  Kewri let me stay in my bunk until past dawn. When I awoke, Tallack was at Blydh’s bedside looking grief stricken. My first thought was that Blydh had died during the night and no one had told me. My chest fluttered in deep anxiety until Kewri raised his hand to me.

  “He lives, Fur Benyn.” He smiled that big lazy grin of his and repeated the same phrase as before. “He has a strong heart. I can feel it.”

  That was all I needed to calm my fears. Breathing deeply to still my racing pulse, I rose from my bed and splashed cold water on my face. “Did he say anything during the night?” I asked Kewri. The giant shook his head.

  Tallack said nothing, just stared down at his listless brother in pity. It was hard to judge what he might be thinking. They had been such a close pairing that even when they were pitted directly in competition with each other for the Chieftain Challenge, Tallack and Blydh helped one another through the trials they faced equally. When their cheating half-brother was denounced, they formed a strong pact to become the very first joint Meterns of the Dumnonii. I really thought that it would be a special bond that would last their entire lives.

  Now I wasn’t so sure. The arguments and differences of opinions over how the tribe should be managed had strained their relationship. Was Tallack mourning the past, or feeling guilt at hoping Blydh would never recover? None but the gods would have the answer to that question, but it hovered in my mind all day.

  At length, Tallack left my hut without uttering a word. His men met him near to my door holding the reins of his horse. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself calling after him. He was the Metern. If he chose to hunt a rare white deer instead of training his warriors, what could I do to alter his mind?

  Kewri spooned some porridge into a bowl and offered me some warm ale to wash it down. It suddenly dawned on me that neither Tallack nor I had given him what he’d asked for after he’d saved my life. All he wanted was a warm bed and a roof over his head.

  “Kewri, when you have slept, can you bring some wood to build another bunk for yourself. I think we can squeeze you in over there by the fire.” That huge grin reappeared again.

  “I’ll sleep later when it’s built.” He put down his bowl and lumbered out of the hut in search of the materials he needed. Perhaps I would feel safer knowing that he is around, especially if Brea and her savages break through our defences.

  After a quick rinse of our bowls and cups, I checked on Blydh again. He needed to drink water or his innards would dry out. I tried again to pour a little from a cup into his mouth but he almost choked. Coughing up bubbling spit and water, it seemed to jolt him awake. His hand thrashed in front of his face, pushing the cup away.

  “Blydh! Can you hear me? Nephew?” I almost shouted it.

  Blydh groaned a long mournful growl. His mouth opened and he croaked. “Not water. Ale.” He spluttered. I was so happy; I almost fell off the bunk. Clapping my palms together in glee I held his face in my hands and kissed each cheek.

  “Get off me woman. I need resin. Get me poppy resin.” The words were slurred, but I understood enough to make me wildly ecstatic.

  I dashed to the doorway, shouting to anyone I could find. “Fetch the Lady Cryda, send a scout after Chief Tallack, Blydh has woken.” Hurrying back to my patient, I took a small pinch of resin and mixed it in water, making sure not to give him too much that his senses would be addled. When I got back to the bunk, Blydh was waving his hand in front of his face.

  “What is it?” I asked, almost predicting his response.

  “I can’t see out of my left eye.”

  Given all that his body had endured, he was lucky it was only o
ne eye. I didn’t think he would live long enough to get back to camp, let alone recover as well as he had. What could I say to the lad? I handed the cup of resin water to him and let him sip. Cryda and Kerensa arrived within a few moments, fussing about his bed and kissing him like a child. I thought it best to allow them some time alone with him. He could tell them about the blindness in his left eye. I had no way to fix it for him.

  Tallack came skidding to a halt a short time later. He’d left his hunting party to snare the white stag without him, in order to speak with his brother. I went down to the stream and soaked the bedding, allowing the current to do my work for me. All around, tribal members toiled away at the orders I had laid down days ago.

  The watchtowers were stocked with baskets of rocks and new arrows, the grain store was above ground on stilts and filled with traded wheat and oats, the dried fish and meats were guarded from temptation and the fresh water supply assured. We were in good shape, but for the clueless recruits and the absence of our allies, the Novantae and their ships.

  The longer we waited for those Skotek tribesmen to arrive, the more I started to think old Faolan was not true to his word. All he had to do was wait until we were at our weakest, when the Duro’s attack had taken its toll, and he could sail up the estuary and claim our lands and mines for himself. That is supposing he could do so before Brea and her horse lords could take them from us instead. So much was riding on his tribe’s help, yet they were nowhere to be seen.

  I washed what filth I could from the bedding and laid them out to dry in the weak sunshine. There would be few chances to gather new bedstraw in the near future. I returned to my hut for a large blade with which to gather more, but Tallack blocked my path.

  “Come with me to the forge, Aunt. I want you to explain that mysterious sword to the smith.” He said, grabbing my arm and turning me about. I had no chance to counter his demands. The forge was a kind description for the shack where they heated the ingots of copper and tin to make bronze. There were a number of apprentices lurking about hoping to learn the skill of the old smith. If they could gain his ability, they too would be more valuable to a tribe by staying in camp, rather than learning to fight.

  I peered at the short weaklings and grinned. Who could blame them for avoiding conflict? If the old smith chose them to train, they would build a strength far greater than the average warrior in time. It was a cunning way to appeal to the womenfolk in camp. They were onto a good thing.

  Tallack called out to the smith, who had his back to us sharpening a blade on a whetstone. “Ho there! I have a commission for you.” The smith saw us and stopped his labours immediately. Looking pleased with himself, Tallack tried to explain his need for a metal that had a silvery appearance and could crack a bronze axe into fragments.

  The smith shook his head. “Begging your pardon, Chief Tallack, but it ain’t silver. Even if we could get hold of enough to make a blade the size you describe, the metal is too soft for weapons. The cost of such an item would be enormous.”

  “But my aunt here saw just such a blade with her own eyes.” Tallack pouted. “Tell him.” He nudged me in the arm.

  “I did, but like the smith says, Nephew, it could not be silver. Perhaps it is a metal known only to the gods.” I could see that Tallack was building up for a tantrum, just like his father used to when he couldn’t have his own way. The smith looked petrified. I needed to diffuse his anger and direct it elsewhere. “When we beat the Duros, you can have the Sword of Cernonnus for yourself. Paega doesn’t deserve to have such a weapon after his treachery.”

  “Hmm.” Tallack pondered my words, narrowing his eyes. “Until that time, I want Blydh and I to have matching blades, curved like the Phoenicians and really huge. How long will that take you?”

  The smith glanced down at the ground. It was another foolish request. “Chief, bronze weapons of that size are too heavy and easily crack. I could make you both new axes. We have enough metal for those.”

  I sensed that his suggestion would not satisfy the splendour Tallack had in mind.

  “Fine, but not like the usual axes. There’s no strength in relying on an angled stick with a tiny capped blade stuck on the end. I want a big curved blade, with antler handles running through the metal at the sides. Make me a mould so that Blydh’s is the same as mine. Together, we will be unstoppable.”

  The smith raised his brows. There was no point arguing with Tallack. His mind was set on a curved weapon of such a size that all who looked upon it would tremble. It did not occur to him that it might be too heavy or brittle to use. I gave the smith a piteous smile. There were far better uses for our limited metal supply than to create two unwieldy axes. Still, at least they would be valuable enough to use as payments to Cernonnus, should the worst happen and our Chiefs needed entry into the Summerlands. Not that dwelling on such terrible thoughts was a healthy occupation.

  Content with his order, Tallack headed back towards the Long Hut, and no doubt, too much ale and more tall tales. When was he going to train the recruits? While I laboured away at my chores, taking in the washing, grinding more powders and mixing tinctures, seeing to the goats and such, young Treeve came barrelling into the compound panting as though he’d been running all day long. In fact, he had only run along the river bank from the estuary to our southern gate.

  Bent double and panting, he yelled up to the watchman. “Call the Chief. There are ships heading towards the river.”

  My relief washed over me in a soothing wave, until I saw the look of panic on the boy’s face. Why would he be so frightened of our allies finally making port? That was when it hit me. “What colours are they flying, Treeve? Is their banner blue for the Novantae?”

  Gasping, he spat on the ground. His face was red and pinched. “No Fur Benyn. Their banners are green.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  My heart froze. Our Skotek allies had abandoned us to the Ivernii and Duros dual attacks. How could we possibly man Tallack’s ships and the compound defences at the same time? The watchman blew a long blast on the cattle horn, calling everyone able bodied to the grass outside the Long Hut.

  Tallack did not look amused. He strolled from the Chief’s hut holding a whole roasted pigeon in one hand and his ale cup in the other. When Treeve pushed through the crowds to Tallack’s side, his bravado fell away.

  “Ivernii ships nearing the bay. We are too few to fend them off. We need all the Sea Warriors and as many bowmen and women as can be spared.” I gasped, hurrying towards him.

  I knew that preparing the compound would not be enough. Now that battle was imminent, neither of our Chiefs had a plan of attack nor defence. The older warriors could fight, but not in any coordinated way. Having the Ivernii thin our numbers by surprising us must have been Brea’s plan all along. With the Iwerdon tribe bearing the majority of early casualties, the Duros could simply walk in and take over the few of us left who survived. It must be why they had waited before retaliating.

  Tallack didn’t seem to be in control. He was more used to trade negotiations and ordering men about ships than organising a battle. Blydh was the Head Hunter, experienced in deadly skirmishes and successful raids, barring his latest venture. Men and woman about camp didn’t know which way to turn. Some collected their weapons and scaled the ladders to the walkway near to the top of the compound walls. Others hovered next to Tallack awaiting their orders. Looking about for guidance, Tallack breathed heavily. The future of our tribe lay in his hands.

  Faolan appeared from the undergrowth of the wooded area to the east of the island. He was still pulling up his leggings as he walked. “What’s all the fuss about?”

  Treeve repeated his message to the Skotek wolf, which prompted a crazed grin on the Chief’s face.

  “So, what are you all waiting for? Get to the ships and fight the kyjyans!” He let out a howl worthy of his name and slapped Tallack’s back. “Shall I go with you, or stay and defend?”

  It was a critical moment. Did Tallack trust Faolan en
ough to leave him in charge of our compound, with our young and sick, with the food and metal stores and enough hostages to last a lifetime?

  I could see Tallack’s indecision. He stared hard at the Novantae Chief, weighing up his intent. After a lengthy pause, he said. “Come with me, Faolan and watch my ship cut right through their fleet.” I was relieved to hear it, but then who would protect the island? Tallack called out again. “Where’s Renowden?”

  “Here, Chief.”

  “You will stay behind and assure the safety of our people.”

  I was going dizzy with holding my breath. Tallack was beginning to make sensible decisions. There was hope for us yet. He divided the able bodied into two groups. Those who could swim, shoot and fight went to the row boats in the river, and from there to the ships in the bay. Those who could not swim stayed behind to man the defences in camp.

  That left me between the two. Where could I best be of use? Tallack rushed off to the boats, leaving me to decide for myself. Kewri stood behind me, holding my medicine kit and the reins to our two horses. I guess he thought I should be close to the action.

  Normally, I would have baulked at the idea of putting myself in the line of fire, but seeing how Kewri made short work of the Duros during Blydh’s raid, I was in no doubt that he would put himself in harm’s way to protect me.

  Mounting my horse, we set off at a canter. It didn’t take long before we had over taken the row boats, their winding route slower than our direct path on land. As soon as we were clear of the marshes, Kewri led the way across the flatlands of homesteaders’ properties to the coast. As we passed the wider parts of the bay, we called out to the sailors making ready on Tallack’s ship.