by Sam Taw
The three of us stood in the pony pen, dumbfounded. Of all the things that could possibly go wrong, that was the most unlikely. What was the leader of the Alchemists doing in the marshlands of all places?
It wasn’t the first question that popped into my nephew’s head. “How did he know it was his daughter’s body? It could have been a slave sacrifice or an accidental drowning.”
Treeve shook his head. “He asked your mother where he could trade for some woven trinket to take home to his wife. Cryda sent him to the weaver women, but they were out cutting stems in the marshlands. By the time I found out he’d gone after them, it was too late. Kerensa was poking out from the mud and silt, half eaten and rotting. He recognised her tunic as one his wife had made for her.”
Tallack rubbed his forehead with closed eyes. He let his horse run off still carrying his bedding and weapons.
As he strode out of the enclosure, I scurried after him. “What are you going to do?”
He turned and snapped at me. “The only thing I can do. Send a messenger to patch things up with Kenver.”
That sounded like a cop out to me. He should have raised the men and sailed after him immediately. Tallack’s Phoenician ship was the swiftest vessel on the western seas. We could’ve easily caught up with him, even though he had a head start. I opened my mouth to protest, but when I saw his angry stare, I closed it again.
The Duro girl was loitering near to our horses, listening to our conversation. Blowing out my cheeks, I set about removing my bag and furs from my pony. “Do you have a name, girl?”
She nodded.
“Well?”
“Alvina, but only my mother calls me that. Most folks call me…”
“Right, well make yourself useful and carry these over to that man with the axe.” I left her standing there, mouth agape and scowling. I had more important things to do than worry about an annoying slip of a girl. Latching the gate behind me, I stood on the boardwalk trying to decide which direction to take. If I followed Tallack into the Long Hut, it would probably end with us falling out over his decision. Failing that, his mother would distract us with more whining about how she’d struggled to cope with everything while we were away from camp.
I headed south in the end, straight to Ren’s hut. As exhausted as he would be, I was in need of his sound advice. He knew Tallack better than anyone on the island. Outside his shelter, I suddenly felt nervous. Clearing my throat, I took a breath and steadied myself.
He must have heard me. “Meliora, is that you out there?” I could hear him grunting as he moved the skins hanging over the doorway aside.
“Yes, it’s just me.”
As his arm flung the drapes back, I could see his ribs poking through his skin and his belly caving in above his hips. He was in worse shape than I thought. The poor man was skin and bone. I didn’t wait for him to invite me inside. “What did they do to you?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice. My feelings balled up in my throat; I was so close to tears I had to look away.
“Nothing. I’m alright.” He moved like every one of his joints was on fire. In the privacy of his home, I took his elbow and helped him to his bunk. He let me.
“Did they beat you? Torture you?”
“No, nothing like that. They gave us scraps and water. The cage had a roof so we were better off than our prisoners here.”
“But you are in such bad shape. Massen is nowhere near this wasted.” I touched him and a spark flitted between us.
He chuckled. “I got sick that’s all, and you were not there to give me tonics and remedies.” As he lowered himself down on the edge of the bed, he caught hold of my hand and raised it to his lips.
I found myself stroking the back of his head and smiling. “Well, I’m here now. I will make you some mallow tea and a little broth.” He had more than enough problems to occupy him without me adding to them. It was too hot for furs. I fetched some cold water from the stream and helped him to wash the filth of the Duro camp from his body.
Leaving him to finish cleaning his private areas, I headed home to collect some food and medicines. Kewri was standing in the doorway of my hut, holding all my kit in his arms and blocking the girl’s way.
“You have to let me in, I’m her apprentice.” She screeched, tearing at his arms and pushing against his massive bulk with all her might. Kewri would not budge. I could see him grinning from halfway down the boardwalk.
When I was close enough for him to hear me, I flicked my hand at him. “She’s telling the truth, Kewri. Let her in.”
“An apprentice, but I’m your…” He stopped and pulled a face. Clearly, he had no idea what he was to me either.
“Let’s not get into it now. Her name’s Alvina and…”
“Vina. I’m called Vina.” She interrupted.
“Yes, yes. Don’t flap, child. The Duros insisted that I train her so, for the time being, she’ll be staying here with us.”
Kewri snatched my belongings from the girl and dumped them on my bunk. He followed me to the bench containing all my tinctures. “But we haven’t enough room.”
“Then we’ll make room. It’s Tallack’s command.” I gathered together my pot of flour, the last of my dried meats and roots, together with my medicines and hastened back to my friend.
Before I was back on the boardwalk, I heard Vina shrieking at Kewri. “I want this bunk, it’s furthest away from the door.” I had to titter. She was already bossing the poor giant about, demanding the comfortable bed he’d built for himself on the far side of the hut. She was going to be a whole handful of trouble, that one.
On my return to the south end of the island compound, I watched a number of elders with their families lining up outside the priestess’s hut waiting for their blessing. Resources were already tight after Tallack had encouraged them to donate what metal they could spare for tributes to another tribe. These people obviously had stashed some away for leaner days. They carried beaver pelts and pots of grain, Frynkish wine and many other exotic traded goods in offering to the gods.
The priestess stood at her door, accepting the gifts and laying her hands on those fraught with troubles or ailing from whatever was blighting their lives. It was fascinating to watch.
Endelyn looked the penitent up and down, first deciding which of the deities carved into the wooden trunks would best suit their needs. When she’d stripped them of their goods, she ushered them in front of the icon and pressed them down by the shoulder until they were kneeling with heads bowed.
A short time later, she threw her arms in the air and begged whichever god she’d chosen to hear her plea. If I had not felt the wrath of the gods myself, I should think it all complete nonsense, but it’s never wise to toy with such blasphemous notions. The last time I renounced the gods, we were struck with such misfortune that I was forced to eat my words.
Endelyn finished her entreaty and followed it with an eye-rolling babble of god speak. The elder at her feet peered up at her, passing something small and shiny into her palm. I knew this part of her rituals too. They were paying her with a tin grain or two for a sacrifice. It made me wonder what the old man had done to warrant such an offering. Endelyn obliged with a smile, pocketing the tin and gesturing to her friend, Senara.
It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I sent the shield maiden to the priestess. She was supposed to protect her, make her feel safe after all that had occurred in camp during the spring moons. Instead, the two women had become inseparable, with Senara reduced from fierce warrior to servant and play thing of the priestess. Senara dragged a duck from a wooden box sitting behind their hut. I didn’t need to see what happened next. It was something I’d observed dozens of times before.
Ren was back in his bunk and smelling a lot sweeter when I returned. I let him doze while I stoked his fire and chopped the meat and roots into a cooking pot. It was hard going without my knives. All I had after the unfortunate trip into Belgae territory was a dagger on loan from my nephew. Its edge dulled so q
uickly against roots and dried venison strips. Tallack had promised to have new blades forged for my healing kit, but without tin and copper we could not make bronze. I knew it’d be some time before he could make good on his promise. Until then, I had to make do.
The heat in Ren’s hut was intolerable. With the drapes pinned back and the broth bubbling away, I walked through the east gates and into the marshes. Tallack had sent some of his men to remove Kerensa’s body from the water. Treeve stood there, shouting at the Sea Warriors, who did not look pleased to be ordered about by the illicit lover of our Chief. I didn’t linger. As soon as I’d cut what vegetation I needed, I hurried back to Ren’s place.
While the broth cooked, Ren snoozed. I plaited the reeds I’d gathered into a flat paddle with a handle. It was perfect to waft in front of my face, providing a cooling breeze while the air about us was so still. When the broth was almost done, I pounded some dough and spread it out on one of the flat hot rocks to cook. That was when I saw two little faces peeping in through the doorway. Both were grimy; their eyes watery, their cheeks hollow.
At first, I thought that they were looking for Renowden, but one of them took a long sniff at the air with closed eyes. I could hardly ignore them.
“Has your mother sent for me? Is someone injured or sick?” I said, smoothing out a second flat bread to cook. When neither answered me, I looked up at them. “Then what is it? Did you come for Ren?”
They shook their heads. Heaving myself up from the fireside stool, I wiped the sweat from my brow on a sleeve and struggled to the door. They were startled, jumping backwards beyond the thatched eaves.
“Please, Fur Benyn.” The taller of the two boys ventured. “Can you spare some of that stew for us?”
The other grew emboldened. “I haven’t eaten for two days.”
I could well believe it; they were in a similar shape to Ren, only they hadn’t caught an ague. “I haven’t seen either of you about camp before. Who’s your mother? Where are you staying?” I looked all about the huts at the south eastern side of the compound for their parents, but saw only those I knew already.
The boys looked down at their feet. “Our mother’s dead.” The tall one said.
“And your father?”
“He came back half drowned from a fishing accident in the estuary a quarter moon ago.”
“You live downstream in the stilted huts?”
They nodded, clutching their groaning bellies. How could I turn them away? I found a couple of wooden bowls and gave them a third of the broth, watering down the remainder to stretch the meat and roots. When the bread was cooked, they near snatched my hand off. The slurping and belching woke Ren, who wondered how I’d attracted such waifs into his home.
At nightfall, all the broth was gone and I sent the lads back to their father with a couple of strips of dried venison. It was all I could spare. The boys spoke of the difficulties the fisherman was having in bringing home a decent catch. It seems the warm water had chased the shoals out into the tricky currents of the bay. Half the families living alongside them were just as starving. The women and children foraged for what shellfish, crabs and seaweed they could find but the shoreline was already stripped bare.
When Ren was settled, I left him to speak to my nephew about the food shortages. Stopping at the raised grain store, I muttered my greetings to the guard and peered into the open hatch. The warrior held a torch aloft for me to see inside. A small mound of barley sat in the middle, no larger than the circle of stones around my own hut fire. It would barely be enough to feed a family for a quarter moon, let alone everyone in camp. I had to urge my nephew into action.
Two large torches illuminated the cracked earth and brown patches of grass either side of the Long Hut door. I could tell from the noise within, that my nephew was indulging the warriors with another feast. After the shameful state of those two young boys, I was more than a little cross with his extravagance. He was happy to ply the Head Hunters and Sea Warriors with fine roasted boar and goat, in return for them riding out to the River Sid to look menacing while our fishermen and their children starved.
I stood in the doorway and scanned the top table at the far end of the room. The two tall chairs belonging to Tallack and his poor dead brother, Blydh, were both empty. Treeve sat in pride of place in the seat reserved for the first wife of the Chieftain. How that young man had the nerve, I’ll never know. If Tallack’s father was looking down on the state of this tribe from the Summerlands, he’d come back and haunt us all.
Before long, Tallack made himself heard. He was sitting among the Sea Warriors, his eyes misted with tears. “That was when we stood back to back and fought them off, with flaming branches and bronze swords, we sent the whole pack scampering away yelping with their tails between their legs.” He sniffed and banged his cup down hard on the table. “There was none better than Blydh the Brave.” The men stamped their feet and hammered their fists on the table in praise of the fallen warrior. He was feasting his brother’s passing. Something we’d not had the chance to do since the burial at the cromlech near to the moors. This would be a harder discussion than I thought.
Tallack caught sight of me loitering behind him. “Aunt Mel, come and drink to the best of warriors, the finest Chieftain since Aebba the Wild, maybe even Cador, eh?”
I shook my head. “Don’t liken him to my brother.” He shuffled along the bench and made room for me to sit down next to him. “Cador was pure evil. Blydh was nothing like him, thank the gods.” It was stretching the truth somewhat, but there was no harm in it, now he was gone. Tallack hadn’t the luxury of grieving. He had to hold himself together while he ruled the tribe alone.
One of his warriors pushed the ale jug closer and found me a cup. These were Tallack’s men. Every one of them was loyal to him. Blydh’s Head Hunter Clan sat on the opposite benches, sneering and muttering their private jokes together. While my nephew was in his cups, there would be no chance to talk some sense into him. He’d already mishandled Kenver, several times over. Now he looked set to lose the respect of his brother’s men too.
“Tallack, the grain store is almost empty. There’s barely enough for bread, let alone to replenish your ale stocks.”
His movements were slow and ungainly. He was having trouble focusing on my face. “So, we can trade for some. We have new allies now you know.”
“Yes, I was there, remember? We don’t have any tin with which to trade.” I waited for my statement to sink into his addled brain.
“Good point. Then I will send to the mines for more tin first and then trade for grain.”
“Except you have just let Kenver go back to the Bentewyn mine in the certain knowledge that you know who…” I flicked my head towards Treeve sitting above us all in the Ruvane chair and lowered my voice to a rasp. “Killed his daughter.”
Tallack swayed backwards on the bench and looked up at his lover. “He didn’t kill Kerensa, Aunt Mel. I did. He just got rid of the body.” The room went silent. The Head Hunters made low grumbling sounds and tuts. “She was working with Brea and those kyjyan Skotek Novantae. Going behind our backs… what else was I supposed to do?”
I was wasting my time. The more he spoke, the less the men respected him. Without Ren to lend a hand, I cast my stare at Massen for his help. He’s a good man. He mobilised Treeve and the Sea Warriors and encouraged them all to sing a song composed just for Blydh the Brave. While the men were all carousing, I tugged on my nephew’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Treeve,” I gestured towards the lad. “Get the Chief back to his hut and mind he doesn’t do anything else stupid tonight.”
He jumped down from the top table platform and pulled Tallack’s arm over his shoulder. Together, they staggered towards the door with me following on behind. When we reached the cool night air, Endelyn was waiting under the stars.
Her long fair hair hung in loose curls over her shoulder, glowing in the torchlight. “You’re not leaving now, are you? I have some wonderful news to share.”
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Tallack lifted his head and gave her a dreamy smile. “What is it, Priestess? Tell me your good news. We are all in desperate need of some.”
“I’m carrying Blydh’s child.”
CHAPTER THREE
I expected Endelyn’s announcement, but hoped that she’d prove me wrong. Her reaction following Blydh’s assault was not what I’d expected. Twice she refused my offer of a tonic to hasten the bleed, claiming that it was the will of the gods. I’d never known such acceptance in one so violated as she. “How can you be sure?” I squinted at her flat belly in the torchlight. “Isn’t it too soon to tell?”
Endelyn stepped forwards and took my hand in hers. “Dear, Fur Benyn. You have always been kind to me. I just know that the seed of Blydh grows within me.” She did that infuriating slow blink up at Tallack while twirling a lock of her hair around a finger.
Poor dazed fool grinned. “You heard her, Aunt Mel. She knows. She is a priestess after all. This is marvellous news. We must celebrate.”
I dropped Endelyn’s hand and steadied my nephew as he swayed between his lover and Massen. To the latter he said, “Take a couple of men and ride out to the northern mine for tin at first light. Clemo is still a sensible man. He’ll give us no problems.”
It was a logical plan, but for one tiny snag. “Except he will be furious that we left his boats in Duro territory and managed to get his nephew killed by the Belgae. I can’t see him cooperating, especially if he’s had word from Kenver.”
“Pfft. Why must you always see the bad side of every situation? It’ll be fine. We’ll get the tin, trade with the Duros for grain and feast the coming of the new wolf.” He didn’t wait for me to gainsay him. I left him to embrace the priestess and revel in the uncomfortable news. More than anything, I wanted to return to Ren and talk this latest development over with someone sober and practical, but I knew that he’d be asleep. He needed to rest and regain his strength. Instead, I scampered back to my hut in the certain knowledge that Kewri and Vina would still be at each other’s throats. I was not wrong.
