by Sam Taw
Treeve eked out the precious ale reserves among the men, while Ren and I chewed over our options if Tallack should fall. Our choices were few indeed and as the night wore on, my roiling belly refused to accept either food or drink.
“I know you are loyal to Tallack, Meliora,” Ren said, “but there is no need for you to lay down your life too. Please heed my advice. Take Cryda, the babe, and Kewri, and go now. Kitto won’t have me killed while I can teach the men how to navigate, but your healing skills won’t be enough to spare you from his axe. I’ll leave it a day or two and then come and find you. We still have friends in the east. Make your way to Cryda’s people. You know that they will assure your safety.”
I rested my hand on his. “You are a good and honourable friend, Ren, and I thank you, but I have already tried to plead with Cryda. She will not leave.”
He looked crestfallen. “I hope I am more than a friend to you, Mel.” He placed his hands on both sides of mine and squeezed gently. I thought my heart would swell until it burst from my chest. Struggling with a lump in my throat, I found myself unable to respond. The best I could manage was a teary nod and a smile. Why would the gods send me such a fine fellow just as my life was nearing its end?
“At the very least, have your new girl prepare your horses at the edge of the forest to the north. If things go ill this evening, I’ll distract Kitto and the Hunters to give you time to get away.” He’d turned my own plan around to favour me in his stead.
It was only then that I remembered Vina. Where had that girl been all day? She’d taken Tallack’s dagger and a bag to search for herbs and not returned. My curiosity descended into alarm when I recalled that the new Chieftain of the Duros was her uncle. If any foul deed had put the girl in harm’s way, the peace treaty with our neighbours would collapse.
Excusing myself from Ren, I walked among the revellers to find Kewri. He was sitting with the Sea Warriors, sulking with a bowl of uneaten stew congealing in his lap. He acknowledged my presence with a nod and returned his gaze to his cold food.
I had no time to listen to his women troubles. He was big enough to sort out his own messes. “Do you know where Vina is?”
He shook his head without the courtesy of looking me in the eye.
“Did you at least notice if she came back from foraging earlier today?”
Another shake of the head was all I could get from him. I had a growing sense of unease gnawing away at my insides. Leaving the congenial atmosphere of the training grounds, I took a burning torch and walked back across the trickling waters of the tributary into the western gate. The compound was so still and quiet, it was almost eerie. Not a bleat came from my goats, tucked away in Kewri’s shelter as I passed them. Their demonic eyes glowed as some kind of phantasm when I shoved the torch closer to do a quick head count, but not one made a sound. I supposed that they knew the fate of their kin after the homesteaders had made off with them.
I knew that Vina was back when I heard the crackles and logs falling from my fire. “By the gods, girl. Where have you been all this time?” I said it long before I was through the door. The wall of heat inside was intolerable. What on earth possessed her to light a fire? I stuck the torch into a hole in the ground and looked about for my apprentice. I expected her to be penitent and eager to explain. Instead, I found her lounging like a Ruvane across my bed, dressed in my finest tunic. It was tight about the middle and far too short for her, revealing more thigh than was decent. I could hardly contain my anger. My huffing and blowing should have given her the impetus to jump up and rectify this gross invasion of my hospitality. Even fixing her with a potent scowl did nothing to provoke a reaction.
“Get your cheeky arse out of my clothes and off my bed. If you expect to gain my favour, you’ll wash my tunic this instant and make amends for your impudence.” I practically screamed it at her, my wrath bubbling inside along with the build-up of nervous bile in my gut. A quick glance about my work table told me that she’d not brought back a single herb, nor bark shavings and the place was still a mess.
It took all my strength to stop myself from grabbing up my besom and whacking her from here to the Underworld. “Did you hear me, girl. Move yourself!” I stomped towards the broom and shot her a glare that told her I meant business.
She swung her legs down to the floor and shrugged as she stood up, but I could tell from her eyes that I’d rattled her. She noticed my shock at the lack of herbs. “It was too hot to gather anything today. I’ll try again in the morning.” She made no attempt to remove my best tunic as she wandered over to her own bunk and slumped inelegantly onto her furs.
“You’ll do no such thing. Those chores won’t do themselves.” As soon as I’d said it, I knew that there was a possibility that I wouldn’t live long enough to see those chores completed. Neither was it an option to trust the girl with my horse, and what few belongings I had left, to wait for me at the edge of the forest as Ren had suggested. “How are you expected to learn if you won’t do as I ask?”
“You haven’t taught me anything yet. What am I to learn by slicing off a bit of willow bark every now and then?”
“You offered to go out foraging. Where have you been all day?” She shrugged in the same infuriating manner that Kewri had in response to my questions. These young people were determined to vex me. “Change back into your old gear and come out to the west training grounds where I can keep an eye on you. The Chief and another warrior will fight soon.” I so wanted to cuff her about the back of the head, but I stayed my hand. If she was plotting her escape back to Duro lands, I didn’t want Vina to tell Fane that we’d abused her in any way.
“I’m not going.” She yawned, rolled onto her back and turned her face away from me.
“You’ll do as you’re told, Vina or find another healer to train you.” I thought the threat would be enough to shock her into line but I was wrong.
She buried her face in her furs until her words were muffled and feint. “Send me back to my wretched family if you will. I didn’t ask to come.”
I opened my mouth to scream at her, but something stopped me. She called them her wretched family. Was she no longer pining for their company? Did her jaunt out alone take her to the borderlands to meet up with scouts from her own tribe? She had been cooperating and almost helpful in the previous few days, I wondered what had occurred to make her glower return with a vengeance.
Despite sweating from the heat of the fire, I tarried a while, thinking. Scooping up scattered dried herbs and seeds back into their respective pots, I gave the girl’s plight some thought. If she felt that her own tribe had abandoned her, and our people despised the ground on which she walked, I could see why she would be so melancholic. Our young spat at her feet wherever she walked about camp; an insult the Duros reserved for their enemies. Reining in my temper, I moved to her bunk and sat on the edge. She jerked her feet away, as though my touch was more deadly than a black ague. “What ails you, Vina? I can be less severe if you’ll help me to understand.”
She shifted about restlessly, taking a deep breath and releasing it while she contemplated my words. I waited, hoping that she would not take long to confide her troubles. I needed to be back with my nephew, before it was too late.
She sighed, tutted, and did all manner of annoying gestures. Still, I waited.
“It’s just… oh, never mind. You wouldn’t understand, and even if you did, you’d care even less.”
I was about to question her reasoning, but then I hadn’t really given her much of a welcome. It was hardly her fault that she was forced to become my apprentice. Like so many women of Chieftain blood, her life was little more than a commodity or bargaining tool. At least her uncle had no intention of marrying her to a great tribal leader. That was the future ahead of Vina’s cousin, poor girl. The moon was full and round in the evening sky; the perfect time to prearrange a meeting.
“Did you see your kin in the borderlands today?”
Her head snapped around at me, her ey
es staring wide as if I was some mystical prophet.
“I was young once you know. That was a long walk to make in a day.” I held her steady gaze for some time before looking away. “Who did you meet at the crossing, your mother or a young man?”
To this she sat fully upright, slack jawed at my guesswork. At length she muttered. “My mother.”
“You pleaded with her to take you home, but she sent you back here anyway?”
Vina nodded, her eyelids welling with tears. So, this was the reason for her changeable mood. “The way I see it, child, you have two options; either come up with a better plan of escape or decide to make a good life for yourself among us.”
She snorted her contempt. “Your people spit at me.”
“Then show our foolish tribe’s folk that they are wrong about you Duros. Make them see what I see; a clever young woman who can be relied on, someone who understands family duty and honour, or am I wrong?” I gave her a firm glare, making her squirm under the pressure. How could she gainsay such lavish flattery of her character?
Her chin dropped to her chest and her eyes closed, but she didn’t answer. There was nothing else for me to say that could rouse her from her sadness. I got to my feet, clicking and crunching my joints to straighten my back. Before I reached the door, Vina called after me.
“I’m sorry that I let you down, Fur Benyn. It won’t happen again.”
I waved my hand about, dismissing her apology without facing her. Whether she chose to flee or remain, it was out of my hands. There were no secret tin deposits, nor jewels for her to steal. At worst, I’d lose my best tunic and my nephew’s knife, but if that allowed her safe passage to a happier life, she was welcome to both.
There were more important tribal matters to deal with than the fate of one ill-tempered Duro girl. When I got back to the fighting ring, Ren was lighting more torches around the edge of the circle, while the womenfolk cleared away the cups and bowls. The Head Hunters were all gathered on one side of the training grounds, while Tallack’s Sea Warriors were on the other side, offering him words of wisdom and support.
Endelyn and Cryda fussed about Tallack, straightening his clothing and hair in between their nervous chattering and fawning. Why couldn’t they see that this was the most idiotic scheme that our Chief could have ever concocted? They billed and cooed about the place as if it was a midsummer gathering wrestling match between two brothers. I doubted that anyone surrounding this fighting ring would bet on Tallack winning the bout. Kitto was stronger, faster and more experienced than my nephew by a large margin.
Tallack grew impatient with the fussy women and batted them aside. Just as well that he did, for the Hunters were already smirking and whispering their scorn amongst themselves. Far from gaining the men’s respect, he was rapidly becoming a figure of fun. I edged closer for a while, hoping to catch him on his own. If there was a chance to put an end to the folly, I had to try. The priestess and Cryda took their seats and Tallack chose a hazel pole from the stack. It was too late to back out now. I’d missed my chance.
The crowd hollered and bayed for blood. All I could do was to find my bench at the head of the elders and watch my kin get torn limb from limb. Kitto strolled into the circle, keen to start the bout. He swilled the dregs of his ale down and threw the empty cup to Ren. They roared and stamped their feet in anticipation. Despite the nip in the night air, Kitto’s bronzed torso shone with the sweat of the day. He flexed his muscles and winked at the group of maidens who’d sneaked away from their families for a closer look.
He was everything a Dumnonii warrior should be; charming, intelligent, fierce and ambitious. By comparison, Tallack looked like a bumbling child, taking his time in selecting a pole that would inevitably break under the force of one swipe from his opponent. I tried to focus over the clamour from the tribe’s folk and the pounding thrum of my heart in my ears.
Kitto was growing impatient with Tallack’s indecision. “Are you ready to begin, Chief?” It sounded more like a command than a question. Tallack dropped two of the hazel rods to the ground and hurried into the ring with a third. I looked the pair up and down. A part of me was relieved to see that there was no way Kitto could be hiding a blade on his person. His chest and feet were bare and his leggings were tight, leaving nothing to the imagination. That only eased my fear for a single beat of the musician’s drum. The moment Ren blew the horn to start, Kitto launched himself at my nephew with such force, Tallack was thrown backwards out of the ring. It was only thanks to the quick reactions of his Sea Warriors that he stayed on his feet. They cushioned his fall and shoved him towards the mighty warrior.
Tallack was not prepared for such a rapid response. He readied himself for the serious task ahead, planting his feet firmly and adjusting his grip on the staff. From the expression on Kitto’s face, I could see that he thought it would all be over in moments. To him, Tallack was simply an obstacle in his path to the Chieftaincy. My nephew took the initiative, stepping closer and striking out at Kitto’s head. The larger man used his staff and blocked with ease, before kicking out at Tallack’s legs to unbalance him once again.
The Chief was ready for him this time, jumping over the clumsy move before jabbing the end of the pole into Kitto’s chest. Rather than knock the wind from him, it provoked his anger. What had started as a friendly trial, descended into a venomous clash.
With sheer brute strength, Kitto dropped his own staff and grasped the hazel rod of the Chief’s, raising it and my nephew at the same time. He shook Tallack loose until he dropped down to the sandy ground. The Chief stepped out of his opponent’s reach, scrambling for a replacement weapon.
Before he could seize a spare pole, Kitto was on him again. He grabbed the bunched fabric of Tallack’s tunic and yanked him away from the edge of the circle, sending the Chief tumbling in a backwards roll. Kitto thundered across the circle to finish the task. His eyes twitched and he slowed for just a moment, before shaking his head. I thought that a fly had blurred his vision, but he was soon to recover. He threw down Tallack’s hazel rod and towered over my nephew, pounding him to the ground in a rain of mighty fists.
There was a sickening squelch of gristle as it separated from bone, sending a spray of blood skyward from Tallack’s nose. A second punch closed a swollen eye, the third and fourth looked set to cave in his cheek bones. I held my breath, as the warrior took my nephew ever closer to the Summerlands, one forceful blow at a time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cryda stood up, clasping her hands to her mouth. “Fight back, son.” Her despair was moving, her cry muted and pained. She was right to plead for him to act. The Chief’s arms were loose at his side, his body limp and unresisting. Why hadn’t he rolled away from the pounding fists of our most fearsome warrior? Tallack was nimble and fleet of foot. Surely, he could out manoeuvre such a beast? My own breathing quickened as our worst fears played out before us all. There was no way my nephew could withstand such a beating for any longer. He must have had his wits knocked right out of him.
I could see Ren’s look of abject horror, unable to intervene to save the life of our young Chieftain. He was the judge and adjudicator and as such, he had to remain fair and impartial. It was never supposed to be a fight to the death, but events played right into Kitto’s hands. The mean brute could see that Tallack was all but spent. He slowed his assault and took in the glory of the crowd’s cheers. The Head Hunters frenzy of admiration manifested in wild foot stamping and roars of support.
Kitto straightened up and gave them a beaming grin. He had more than respect, this was adoration. He was everything my nephew was not. All that was missing for his immediate elevation to leadership was his lack of Chieftain blood running through his veins. Instead, he was spattered in the congealing stuff. Tallack roused a little while Kitto strutted, playing up to his men. The huge man thrust his arms high into the air and faced us elders. This should have been the time when I made my excuses. I should have gathered my things and scuttled off into the for
est and away. Watching my nephew meet his end would be a memory to haunt my nights forever more.
Ren did all he could to gain my attention, gesturing towards me from across the fighting ring. He wanted me to save myself; to Grab Cryda and the babe and run for our lives. Instead, I sat dumbstruck and immobile. How ignoble our end would be.
Tallack struggled to his knees, spitting out blood and tooth fragments but keeping a weather eye on his opponent. Kitto had his back to the Chief. He stood tall, punching the air in time with his men as they chanted his name over and over. Surely Ren would call it a definitive win and end the bout. I signalled as much to my friend, who stood and entered the edge of the circle. Tallack was on his feet, closing in on the unsuspecting warrior. I wanted to call out to him, warn him against angering Kitto further, but the crowds were too loud. He wouldn’t have heard me.
When the warrior turned to face the Chief, his eyes widened and he swayed from side to side. He thrust his arms out to regain his balance, but I could tell his head was spinning. Kitto blinked rapidly, shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes. He staggered about as though he'd drunk a skinful of ale rather than a cup or two.
When Tallack landed his first punch, Kitto tried to side step out of his way but failed. The burly man’s legs buckled beneath him. Tallack barely connected fist to chin before the warrior fell to his knees. The Head Hunters fell silent as their champion slid without grace or dignity to the dusty ground.
This was not a knock out, nor was it a fair fight. I glanced at Ren who was staring into the empty cup that Kitto had thrown before the bout. When he looked up, we exchanged a knowing nod. My suspicions were confirmed when I turned to see Endelyn and Treeve grinning at one another, congratulating themselves on the success of their devious plot.
It was all too clear to me now; Endelyn’s need for valerian and the missing poppy resin, the mess left behind in my hut to conceal what had been taken, the sneaking around with jugs of ale, Treeve’s insistence that he should take charge of sharing out the last of the beer to the fighters, a job meant for slaves. They assured Tallack’s victory with my potent medicines. If this became common knowledge, Tallack would lose more than the respect of the men. Every tribe south of the River Trent would hear about how he won.
