Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5)

by Sam Taw

  The first step was to clean away the bad humours and filth. With cupped handfuls of sea water from a pail, I delivered a steady trickle over the broken stitches until much of the charring and fragments from the wrapping had washed away. If the Belgae Tribe had not confiscated my best shears, I could have trimmed off the dead sections. As it was, I didn’t trust my hand with Nectan’s blade to do a good enough job. There was a possibility that I could make things much worse. When his back was clean, but raw as fresh meat, I smeared what was left of my mace reed paste over the edge of the skin flap. The numbing effect should have taken the edge off the pain while I made a balm for the rot.

  Had we been back at the island compound on the Exe, I would have instructed Kewri to lay still on his front with his back open to the fresh air. On the beach, however, every gust of wind delivered fine sand to coat his troubled flesh. All I could do for him was to lay a clean section of damp hemp cloth across his back for protection and wait for Ren to return from the valley with the other herbs I needed.

  When the men did finally walk down to the beach for the night, Kewri’s fever had taken hold. I could barely get him to drink water to counter the sweats. His shivers were so violent, he was shifting in the sand like a babe. Several times, he tried to cover himself with some of the rescued furs, but I couldn’t let him wipe off the jelly I’d applied.

  Ren led his horse right up to us at the main fire. It was laden with dripping bundles. “We’ve had a stroke of luck.” He grinned, handing me the reins before starting to unload his steed. “Anyone would think we’d sacrificed a couple of goats to the gods to be blessed with such a haul.”

  I grew impatient with him, fearing for Kewri’s worsening health. “Did you get my willow bark?”

  “Huh? Oh, yes, and the burdock. Couldn’t remember whether you said the leaves or the root, so I brought the whole plant.” He seemed more interested in the sopping wet bundles suspended from either side of his pony. A second horse and then a third arrived just as Ren unhitched the lengths of soaked linden bark, each laden with a similar quantity of the goods. “Kenver must have hoped that we’d not find them. They were trailing in the river upstream.” He looked at me as though I could perform miracles. Did he really think I had the time or the strength to split and twist that lot into rope?

  I raised my brows and pursed my lips, holding out my hand. It took a moment for him to comprehend my frustration. His expression crumpled into sadness when he glanced down at Kewri laying by the fire. His jubilance crushed, Ren untied a sack hanging from the horse and handed it to me.

  “Thank you. This should make all the difference to his recovery.” I hated to think that I’d trampled on what little hope he’d found. I gave Ren’s forearm a little squeeze and smiled. “You may just have saved Kewri’s life.” I waited long enough to see his weather-beaten face light up, before returning to treat my patient.

  The medicine didn’t take too long to prepare. Smashing a little peeled burdock root and the willow bark between two large pebbles was easy, waiting for them to stew in the hot water over the fire was the hard part. While it cooled a little, I took what duck fat I’d saved and began working in the chopped burdock leaves to make a salve against the rot.

  When the brew was ready to drink, I couldn’t get Kewri to cooperate with me. “Please sit up, lad. It’ll taste something awful, but it’ll help with the pain and bring your fever down. The burdock should clean your blood before it starts to fester.” I waited for some sign of understanding, but he just groaned and ignored me. “Kewri, please sit up.”

  Ren saw my struggle and called the men over to assist. It was not an easy manoeuvre, tipping him onto his side to avoid further harm to his back, and lifting his shoulders enough to pour the liquid down his gullet. I thought he might react to the bitter taste but he just swallowed it without a murmur.

  There was nothing more I could do for him. The men rested Kewri in the sand on his belly and set to work on preparing the linden bark strips for twisting. While I scaled and gutted a few trout and a couple of flat fish they’d caught, Ren told me about their progress in the valley. He explained how they overcame some obstacles early on in the day by felling a few storm damaged trees that were partially uprooted, thus saving them time and effort using axes. His main concern was in being spotted by the Alchemist watchmen.

  Thanks to Nectan, we now knew where the lookouts were posted and could avoid them. I worried that the speedy preparations put too much strain on our surviving horses. The men were exhausted too and at greater risk of injury. With so few of us left, we had to preserve our fighters at all costs.

  Senara didn’t return to camp that night, nor for the three nights that followed. Nectan and I took it in turns to keep watch over the wounded and forage for food and wood for the fires. Kewri had his ups and downs. He almost scared me to death on the third night, with his raving sweats and thrashing about, but by dawn of the following morn, his fever broke. He ate a little for the first time in days and was well enough to sit up and wash himself - much to my relief.

  The men worked long days and some of the nights to set up the foundations of our plan, and by good fortune or the will of the gods, come late afternoon of the fifth day, we were ready. Senara crept out of the dunes to join us around the fires. She carried with her a number of plucked waterfowl and a quiver packed with new arrows. I believe she meant the food to be an offering of peace to the men, but it failed to charm them. They grew surly and quiet when she lingered at their fire making her as uncomfortable as they could. In the end, she left the birds at their feet and sat with my nephew, Ren and me.

  The sun was far from setting, it being so close to the solstice, but we all needed to rest before dark. Kewri offered to see to the horses while Nectan and I prepared the wildfowl for roasting. As much as I wanted to appear calm and confident in our scheme, my hands were trembling as I slashed open the birds to yank out the entrails.

  Nectan noticed my jitters and gave me a warm smile. “It’ll be fine, Fur Benyn. There’s nothing to worry about.” He whispered, which only served to make me more anxious. The entire scheme rested on the information he’d given us. He certainly seemed to be confident, which was suspicious in itself. Whose side was he really on? Had he set us all up for a catastrophic failure? From captive to ally in a few short days, I was starting to doubt my trust in him. It would certainly be a clever ploy if Kenver deliberately placed Nectan among us, someone capable of influencing our actions.

  I spent much of the evening mulling over my thoughts on the matter. Kenver couldn’t have known that we would spare Nectan’s life. Neither was it likely that anyone would volunteer to walk into enemy hands, risking the same torture our crewman, Treeve had endured. Since his capture, Nectan had plenty of opportunities to escape, yet he stayed close by and made himself useful. He never spoke about the Alchemists, nor his family while we worked together on the shore. The man was either the greatest tactician that ever lived or was genuinely indifferent to the fate of his clan leader. Either way, I found myself hanging on his every word, looking for signs of duplicity.

  As the sun dipped below the cliffs at our backs, Tallack and the warriors bedded down to rest. Kewri and a couple of the least wounded kept watch, padding along the dunes and scavenging what useful wood they could for the fires. Neither I nor Senara slept. For one, the evening was still and humid, my clothes stuck to my back and my lank grey locks matted at the nape of my neck, but seeing the men drift into sleep gave me a measure of confidence. I was sure their anxiety would show if they believed our plan would fail.

  When the moon reached its peak in the sky, I knew that Kewri would return to wake Tallack and the warriors. Away from the fires, it was undeniable that the strength of the moonlight would not help our endeavours. We’d hoped for the cover of darkness, but were left wanting.

  Senara caught me gazing skyward and shrugged. She gathered up and secured her weapons about her person. “Can’t be helped, Fur Benyn. I made a sacrifice to the Morr
ighan for protection. Let’s hope she heard me.”

  Tallack stood up and faced the young woman, holding out his arm to her. “Go with blessings, Senara.”

  She tucked her dagger in her belt and clasped his forearm. “You’ll have control over the mines by sun up, Chief. Just you see.” It was only then that I caught the tiniest whisper of doubt in her voice. A tremble that propagated along her bottom lip as she smiled.

  Tallack held on to her arm for a moment longer, the firmness of his grip intended to convey his trust in her. When he let go, she turned and ran along the beach to the cliff path. Every one of us watched her shapely silhouette shrink into the gloom.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The warriors left shortly after Senara. Each had a specific place and role to play in the plan. Kewri and Nectan walked alongside my horse as we scrambled up to the ridge top between the two valleys. Despite the disadvantages of the powerful moonlight, it did afford me a decent view of proceedings as they unfolded.

  My pony whickered and snorted from the exertion of climbing the steep valley side. Dismounting, I hitched its rein to the branches of a woody shrub out of sight and joined my friends at our high vantage point. The trees above the fast-flowing river cast long shadows on the dry ground. There was not a puff of wind, nor a foraging animal in sight.

  “Are you sure that we’re in the right place?” I whispered, leaning from one side to another and scanning the rise for signs of life. Kewri said nothing. He just held out his arm and pointed to a thicket beneath a clump of alders. It took me a while to see what his young eyes had already spotted. Beneath the rustling boughs of a tall tree hid an Alchemist watchman, his pale cheeks a stark contrast to the shadowy bushes in which he lurked.

  Just as my sight had picked him out among the undergrowth, he vanished. There was not a sound, nor any hint of foul play, but we all knew his fate. Senara had just taken her first victim. I imagined her dangling by the legs from the overhanging branches and slashing through the man’s throat before he could sound an alarm. Kewri was grinning at me as though he could read my thoughts. I’d almost forgotten their former relationship. He knew her better than any of us and truth be told, still admired her greatly.

  By the time I turned my head back to the sight of her first kill, she was already positioning herself for the second. I could see her balancing on a higher branch of the same alder tree, straddling the bough and taking aim with a deadly arrow nocked.

  Moving along the ridge top, I was able to see her quarry. He was young, no more than twelve summers, and gazing up at the moon. How could he have known that he’d made it easy for the bolt to whistle through the air and pierce his neck with a perfect shot? The poor lad had just enough life left in him to grasp at the shaft, slick with his pumping blood as he crashed to the ground. I should have been sickened by the death of one so youthful, but all I could think about was how telling it was that Kenver would force the least experienced of his clan to complete their duties on the night watch.

  Nectan and Kewri relaxed, fascinated by the spectacle. They made themselves comfortable on a couple of dry rocks while I paced about less certain of our shield maiden’s success. Two of the gorge watchmen had met their fate. Three remained, and they would present a much harder challenge. Two stood behind the sturdy barricades of the entrance to the largest tunnel. I knew it well from my time treating injured miners following a cave in during the winter. The stretch of land outside the barricade was bare of vegetation, allowing their ponies to pull carts of rock and stone. I saw no carts, nor ponies, just a wide-open space most likely laid with more traps. It certainly had what looked to be a fresh layer of sand strewn rushes laid across the bare earth. What better way to conceal another of Kenver’s wicked pits of death?

  Senara was still some distance from those guards, further down the gorge. Another, much broader watchman lay in her path. From his swagger, I’d say that this miner was older and at least twice her size. As stealthy and swift as Senara was, he still spotted her long before she could get close enough to surprise him.

  She froze, her strategy had failed. My hand leapt to my mouth to stifle my cries. I was sure that he’d shout to his clansmen; summon all those on guard to assist him, but he did not. Perhaps he thought her too small to be a threat, we will never know, but he grabbed a thick staff as long as he was tall and thundered towards her. Still Senara did not move, her feet rooted to the hillside, her hands level with her hips.

  “No!” I cried, too scared to watch and too dazed to look away. He was less than a boat length from her and gaining speed along the river bank. He raised one end of the staff high, preparing himself for a crushing blow down on her fair head.

  My nails dug into my palms but I felt no pain. A rush of emotion flooded my head at the thought of burning another of our friends on the pyre. Kewri swayed, clasping the sleeves of his tunic in sudden panic. Only Nectan seemed to be enjoying the events as they played out before him.

  Why wasn’t Senara running? There had been more than enough time to slip away and disappear from such a hulking great brute, yet her feet were stock still. Other than the snapping of twigs underfoot, his grunts and puffs were muffled by the rushing waters of the river. Before his staff could land on her skull and crack it open like a nut, Senara reached to her belt, whipped out her dagger and threw it with alarming precision into the man’s face.

  His head snapped backwards; his mouth gaped open as her dagger embedded itself to the hilt in his left eye. It took another moment for his body to slump; first to its knees, dropping the staff as he fell, before tumbling forward onto a soft bracken death bed. Senara wasted no time in mourning. She kicked his shoulder until his corpse rolled over, allowing her to retrieve her blade. I could tell from her swift escape that she was not troubled by her encounter in the slightest.

  How I wish that the men could have seen her courage and fortitude. I’m sure many would have turned on their heels and fled in the face of such an enemy, but not she.

  There were just two guards left to dispatch. Both had the protection of stone and wooden blockades, a paling wall and probably three or more hidden pits filled with spikes, if experience had taught us anything. I couldn’t see a way for her to approach. The Alchemists had spent a lifetime guarding their hoard. They knew every rock and crevice in the gorge. Every weakness would have some kind of trap set in addition to the guards.

  It was the one area where Nectan’s information was vague. He claimed that he had no involvement in the defences and scant knowledge of any planned traps. At the time of his telling, I’d found that hard to believe. How could someone as senior as he, not know about the preparation of siege walls, yet be so accurate with the watchmen and their look out posts? Something about Nectan did not add up. He seemed to be enjoying the whole situation far too much for my liking.

  Senara disappeared into the undergrowth and out of our sight, leaving the dead man on the slope shrouded by ferns. Kewri let out a huge lungful of air, I suspect he’d been holding it for some time.

  Our relief was short lived. From where we stood, we could see the heads of the last two guards above the defences. They were peering through the hurdle fences between the rocks and posts. From the head bobbing and speed of their movements, I guessed that they sensed something was wrong. Perhaps the dead guard had let out a particular warning sound, a bird call or something that I’d missed during Senara’s calm encounter. Whatever had spooked them looked set to ruin our whole plan.

  If Senara waited much longer to kill them, they would summon the entire Alchemist Clan from deep within the tunnels. Our numbers were too few to confront them head on, and we were scattered right across the two adjacent valleys.

  It was my turn to hold my breath. Nectan sat chewing on a strip of dried meat, Kewri fidgeted on his rock and I paced along the ridge top in a growing fog of panic.

  “Maybe I should ride down and distract them.” I muttered, knowing that it was a foolish suggestion the moment it left my lips, but I felt so
helpless. Kewri said nothing, sensing that I was just speaking my thoughts.

  Nectan took my offer seriously. “You can’t do that, Fur Benyn. Who would tend to the sick? Do you think Kenver would spare you after all that’s happened?” I couldn’t tell if his concern for my wellbeing was genuine or whether he felt it was simply the right thing to say under the circumstances. Either way, it didn’t assuage my suspicions. Despite my misgivings, his argument was valid.

  I shook my head, muttering my agreement to his common sense. What use is a stupid old woman in such matters? Kenver had let me live once but he’d made it plain that his leniency would not stretch further.

  Every moment we waited seemed an eternity. My mouth dried, I chewed the sides of my fingernails until they bled and still there was no sign of our brave young warrior. The moon began its descent and as the night wore on, my hope faded.

  “She can’t afford to leave it any longer.” I wailed. “The guards are restless.” I turned to Nectan. “Can’t you tell? They can sense trouble.”

  Nectan nodded. All hope swept out of me, leaving me empty inside. She’d failed us. All our preparations were for nought. I closed my eyes and imagined all the horrors that Kenver and his men could inflict on a young woman until the tears began to flow.

  Before I could express my grief, Nectan pointed ahead. “Don’t give up just yet, Fur Benyn. There she is.” His smile reappeared. “Can you see her on the rock face above the defences?”

  In the shadows, shielded from the moonlight, I could just make out a slender figure clinging to an outcrop of rocks. “How in the name of the gods did she get there?”

  My amazement triggered a little chuckle from my giant friend. It came as no surprise to him. She must have climbed right up over the side of the gorge, edged along the top and clambered down sheer cliffs and scree slopes to position herself above the mine. Was there anything this girl couldn’t do?