Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5)

by Sam Taw

  Embarrassed and bruised, I hurried towards Kewri’s shelter to find him lying on his bunk with his head poking out of the door. Opposite him, the skins covering my door were pinned back, allowing Vina to hurl abuse across the way.

  “Well, you’re an ugly brute who’s freakishly tall.” She screamed.

  “You’re mean and bitter,” came his retort, bellowed at the top of his voice.

  “At least I don’t stink like a pig with the squits.”

  “No, you just reek of being a Duro spy. No wonder the camp kids spit at you.”

  That was one snipe too far. She howled in anguish. I feared that this feud would not be quelled with a stern talk and a pat on the back from me. This rivalry was far too deep rooted for that. In the absence of a solution, I took a breath, blew out my cheeks and headed inside. The poor little mite was all snot and tears. Her first instinct upon seeing me was to back herself into a corner defensively and hold her fists high in protection.

  “No one will hurt you, child,” I said. “Come here.” I held open my arms and beckoned her towards me. After a moment or two of pondering, she let the tears flow and ran into my embrace. Rocking her to and fro for a time, the hysteria lessened.

  She pulled away and wiped her eyes. “I want to go home.” She sniffed.

  “I know, but that decision is out of our hands. If I can teach you quickly, and you agree to learn all you can, I can send you home to be the Duro healer in no time at all.” I lied. It would take many full cycles of learning to absorb all I had to teach, supposing she was prepared to learn.

  “You know Kewri is a lovely person when you get to know him, child. You’d do well to make your peace.”

  “Will you stop calling me that, Fur Benyn? I’m not a child. I’m almost sixteen summers now.”

  I couldn’t stop myself snorting. “Dear girl, I have tunics older than that. You are a child to me, but I will do my best.”

  My small gesture of compassion seemed to spur her on. She walked to the fire and raked the coals, before placing a cooking pot into the embers. Cutting a nob of butter off into the pan, she cracked two of my duck eggs and stirred the sticky mess until it was fluffy and golden. When she tipped the mixture out into a single bowl, I gave her an odd look.

  “I couldn’t wait, I had mine earlier.”

  Satisfied that she’d taken care of her own hunger, I spooned a heap into my mouth. With a pinch of salt, they tasted like gifts from the gods. It was after I’d cleared the plate that I thought about Kewri, dangling half out of the shelter. It was too much to ask her to cook some more. I cracked the rest of the eggs into the warm pan and fluffed up a fresh batch.

  “You know, the quickest way to make peace is to give them something they want, a small token of friendship.” I emptied the pan into a clean bowl and tipped my head towards the door. “I shall need both you and Kewri to help me in the coming moons, and that can’t happen until you stop bickering.” I held out the scrambled eggs for her to take.

  For a moment, I thought she might return to her old wilful and stubborn self, but she took the bowl with grace and walked to the door. Curiosity got the better of me. I sneaked closer to see in the failing light. Vina walked so slowly, I thought she was going to bolt, maybe hide away and eat the food herself. Kewri had turned himself around on his bunk. As she neared the huge feet, once again poking out of the door, she quickened her step.

  “Fur Benyn thought you might be hungry.” Her small frame was not much bigger than mine. Next to Kewri, she was tiny.

  His feet retracted from my view and then returned with him standing outside the doorway. He reached out a massive hand and gently took the bowl from her. “Thank you. That was kind of you to bring it over.” His smile was awkward as though he begrudged giving it to her. They stood for a short while, each waiting for the other to fill the silence. It was painful to watch.

  Eventually, Vina took the initiative. “I don’t want to fight anymore. Fur Benyn needs us both. If you want to bring your bed back into the house, I won’t make a fuss.”

  Not the best apology, but certainly not the worst. I wondered if Kewri would take offence at the notion that Vina considered my house as hers to do with as she pleased. I decided who stayed and who left. Kewri had more than earned his place at my table and here she was pretending that he was only welcome if she deemed it so. At least she tried. With bowl in hand, he turned his back on her and sat on his bed.

  I moved away from the door, pretending that I was ignorant of their exchange. She huffed and puffed at his rudeness before launching herself onto the patient’s bunk in a sulk. There was so much for her to learn. If she couldn’t make amends with easy going Kewri, then it would be impossible for her to win over the rest of the tribe.

  Yet another humid night prevented restful sleep. Every move I made seemed to make me feel worse. Coupled with the anxiety of not knowing how close the fire was plus the soft whimpers of my homesick apprentice, I was wrung out by dawn. I used the piss pot and wandered outside as the sun crept over the horizon. Its orange glow blended with the smoke high in the air until the smell was all but a trace in the breeze.

  From across the island, I could hear Tallack’s little sister crying out. Knowing that his mother, Cryda would be wide awake and exhausted, I decided to pay her a visit. Cryda was pacing about the rushes, carrying a squawking Delen about in her arms when I arrived. One look of desperation cast in my direction was all it took for me to step up and take the babe from her. She’s a dear little thing, but not a good sleeper. Cryda took the opportunity to throw herself down on her bunk and close her eyes. I needed her to stay awake.

  I lifted Delen up until she was laying close to my shoulder and almost upright. Within moments, she calmed, her bawling ceased.

  “Why can I never get her to do that? She hates me.”

  I chuckled. “She can feel your angst. The more tired and desperate you get, the more she wails. You just need a rest.” I sat down and kept my upper body swaying to soothe her.

  In a matter of moments, Cryda sat up and peered towards the thatch above. “Oh, blissful silence, my old friend.” As she cast her sight back to me, she noticed my red and swollen eyes. “What’s wrong, Meliora. Who has upset you?”

  I swallowed hard. Just thinking about my exchange with the Chief brought a lump in my throat. “Tallack and I have fallen out.”

  She stared at me with waspish eyes. “I shouldn’t worry about it, you know you’re his favourite, just like his father before him. It’ll pass.”

  I shook my head. “Not this time, I fear.”

  “What did you fall out over?”

  I couldn’t see any harm in telling her. She would see the situation the same way that I did. “I only mentioned that it was worth considering the Duro offer of binding with the Chief’s daughter. He snapped my head off.”

  She sucked in her lips and nodded. I knew that she’d understand. She too was of Chieftain blood and knew the responsibilities that accompanied the title. In her case, she was lucky that Aebba adored her and pursued an alliance with the Cantii in order to wed her. Other tribal daughters often don’t have that luxury.

  “I’ll have a word with him. He can’t fall out with his own mother or the goddess will never favour him again.”

  It comforted me to know that she shared the same mind as I over this issue. Despite Tallack’s current preference for his crewman, he would need to declare a first wife and Ruvane of our tribe at some point. It made sense that the Ruvane should be chosen carefully to benefit our trade links and alliances.

  I stayed for a while, chatting over the events at the cromlech and how badly Treeve had handled the whole matter with Kenver of the Alchemists. There too, she agreed with me, but she made no offer to include it in her discussion with her son. Cryda was only brave to a point and no further. When her slave returned from washing their clothes at the river, I passed the sleeping child into her arms and said my farewells.

  Taking the long route home, I walked beside
the eastern palisade walls and stopped to watch the pigs snuffling in the wooded area behind the Hunter’s tents. From there, I skirted the Long Hut roasting pits. As I turned the corner, I could see the grain store guard struggling to separate two weaver women from a large man carrying a sack.

  The women were kicking his shins and scratching his arms, trying to snatch the bag from him. The guard tried to remove the women, but they clung tighter than a limpet. By the time I got to them, one of the ladies had jumped on the man’s back and was throttling him from behind. His eyes bulged as he gasped for breath. The other bit the guard’s arm while he grappled her around the middle.

  “Hey, hey! What’s all this?” I yelled. The woman riding the strangled man recognised me and released her grip. She slid down from his back and hung her head in shame. The guard let go of the second woman who stood before me, hands on hips in defiance.

  “That stinking greedy kyjyan has taken the last of the grain.” She screamed, although we were all close enough to hear her without the vitriol.

  I looked at the man. “Chief Tallack’s orders. Got to malt the last of the barley for ale. He’s almost out.”

  I turned my gaze to the furious women.

  “We’ve not had our ration this quarter moon and our children are starving.” Now I could see why they were fighting. The poor man was covered in angry red welts from their scratches. He was only carrying out his Chief’s orders. It wasn’t his fault. Much to his surprise, I took the sack from him and handed it to the women. “Split this as best as you can. Make it last as there will be no more for a while.” They hurried away before the decision could be altered. The large man looked deeply perturbed.

  Turning to him, I said; “Tell Chief Tallack that you went to the grain store but found it empty. If he questions you further, tell him that I was there as a witness.” I gave the guard my sternest look until both nodded in agreement. “The empty bellies of children should always come before the ale of a Chief.” I can’t recall a time when petty squabbles such as this got out of hand. People were getting desperate, and it looked set to get much worse.

  Glancing about the island, I could detect a subtle change in the atmosphere. Where once it was languid and purposeful, it was now fraught with worry; the furtive looks of envy whenever the elders’ wives displayed their metal jewellery, the children sent to pick every grain from the parched earth that was spilled from the store, the ravenous camp dogs snarling over the fragments of bone cast aside on the midden pile.

  I spun about and aimed myself north towards home. Before I was half way along the boardwalk, I heard the horn of the watchmen blow. The gates swung open and the bridge lowered over the river. There stood a half hundred men, women and children, their belongings dragging behind them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  There they stood, gaunt, sweating and exhausted from their journey. These were our homesteaders, driven in desperation to seek our help. There were no livestock, nor pets. Not even a horse among them. I could tell from their ragged clothes and lack of shoes that they had traded or eaten everything but their children.

  The horn brought many out of their houses to see who was at our gates. Even Tallack was moved from his bunk to slip on his leggings and walk to the north side of the island to greet the visitors.

  His long strides allowed him to reach them before I could. “Hail, friends, what brings you here?”

  One of their menfolk responded. “Did you not see the smoke, Chief? The moors are on fire. Our homes, cattle, everything has gone. All we have is what you see.” He was holding it together for the sake of his family, but I could tell his level of distress from the tremble in his voice.

  Tallack looked at them but said nothing. The shock of having so many displaced people at our gates threw him. The man waited patiently for an answer, an instruction, anything to reassure him that they would be welcomed with open arms. When none was forthcoming, the man grew desperate. “Chief, we have paid our tributes every season since my grandfather’s generation. You cannot fail us now.” He was right. It was the unspoken tribal law. In return for a portion of their harvests, our warriors did all they could to keep them safe. They heeded the call for new recruits, sending their most able children to us for training and induction into the clans. If Tallack failed to provide for them in their time of need, things would turn nasty.

  “Of course, yes. I was just thinking about the best place for you to go.” He twisted on his heels, scratching his head until he spotted me. His mouth hung open; his eyes widened. He had no idea how to deal with such a problem. After his sharp tongue earlier in the day, I was tempted to let him flounder, but the homesteaders didn’t deserve that. They needed food and healing herbs to set them straight. One or two looked to be nursing burns on their hands and forearms, incurred no doubt when they tried to save their homes.

  “Perhaps they could stay in the Long Hut for the time being, Chief, just until new huts can be built?”

  “Yes, splendid idea. That’s where you should go.” He gave them his most charming smile and directed them to the centre of the island. Treeve took them inside and began dividing the space and stacking benches. Tallack approached me. I waited to see whether his mood had improved. I wasn’t about to forgive his outburst on the turn of one of his smiles.

  “The Head Hunters should be back by now. I can’t imagine that they would find it difficult to hunt down a few boar or a couple of deer to keep us all going. I wonder what’s delayed them.”

  I probably should have told him what I’d seen in the forest the day before, but I was still annoyed with him. If he can’t manage men such as Kitto, Tallack is in for a rough ride as Chieftain.

  My silence surprised him. He frowned at my lack of interference. “Aunt Mel, how will I feed all these extra mouths?”

  I shrugged. The lad had to learn. I wouldn’t be around forever to bail him out. It was churlish of me I know, but I walked away and left him to sort out his own mess. I sauntered back to my hut and began stringing up the few bunches of herbs from the foraging trip to dry. Vina had returned to her sullen uncooperative self. Perhaps it was too hot for hard labour, but this was easy light work and a chance to learn the plant names. It took some nagging, but eventually she shifted herself from the bunk to help.

  With Vina occupied, I ferreted Kewri out from the shelter. He looked as wrung out as I felt. His hair was wet with sweat and stuck in cords to his forehead. I was reluctant to ask, but we needed food. “Kewri, can you go to the forest and see what you can find for supper? We are out of dried meat; the salt is down to a pinch or two and the grain store is completely empty.”

  Credit where it’s due, the lad didn’t moan one bit. He collected the bow and arrows from my hut, secured his knife in his belt and walked to the pony enclosure to ready his carthorse. He was the one person in the whole world on whom I could rely. I thank the goddess every day for bringing him to our camp. Before settling to my work, I went to see that my goats had enough water and leaves to eat. When I let myself inside their enclosure, I sensed something amiss. They crowded around me as they usually did, but were less insistent in their jostling. Normally, one large brown nanny would butt me in the arse if I took too long with their food. I spun about, but she was nowhere to be seen. My best milking goat was gone.

  I checked the hurdle fencing for scrapes dug out from the dry soil or breaks in the weave, but found no weaknesses in the pen. Securing the gate behind me, I searched around my hut and the shelter, but saw no sign of her. If she escaped, the others would have vanished too. It looked more and more like someone had stolen her, but who would do such a thing? Everyone in camp knew they were my animals. No wonder the rest of the little herd were jittery.

  Vina had no answer to give me about the missing creature when I asked and there was no way Kewri would have let her bolt. He’d learned his lesson about captives the hard way. I’d barely stepped foot back in my hut when one of Tallack’s slaves came for me. The Chief sent word that my assistance was required in
the Long Hut and I was to bring my medicine kit with me. I grabbed my things and scuttled over the brown grass to find that Cryda, Endelyn and Senara had also received summons from our leader.

  Cryda ran out of the noise and commotion as soon as she saw me. “It’s chaos. There simply isn’t enough room for them to stay inside. The slaves have a thin stew cooking, but it won’t be enough to feed them all.”

  I watched the homesteaders marking out sections for themselves with benches, moving the boundaries of their neighbours and causing upset in the process. They were moments away from a full-on fight. “It’s not cold at night. They can set up camp in the southern reaches of the island. When the stew is done, they can file in and collect a bowlful one family at a time. While they wait in line, I will patch them up and tend their burns. Get some of the Sea Warriors to maintain order among them.” Senara heard my orders and ran off to organise things. When she was no more than half a boat length away, I called her back. “And tell them to watch their metal and livestock. We have a thief in camp.” She nodded and ran like the wind.

  “What about us, Fur Benyn. How can we help?” The priestess said in her wistful yet dramatic way of hers.

  “I’d appreciate some help with the sick and injured, Endelyn, if you will? Cryda, make sure the slaves dole out equal portions of stew or we’ll have a brawl to match the Duro attack.” For once, the former Ruvane took my suggestion without complaint, taking charge of what little food was on offer.

  Treeve set up a couple of benches and tables near to the front entrance of the Long Hut for me to assess their health. Most of the children were undernourished and covered in lice. One or two of the men complained of toothache while the women suffered silently, their backs aching and their will broken. Endelyn cared for those who were heavy with child. At first, I thought it was because she felt empathy with them. When I got the chance to listen to her wittering on, she was boasting about the blood line of her unborn child to all who would listen.