by Sam Taw
Later that evening, Sorcha scratched herself a great deal. A part of me wanted to help the girl, offer some of my famous plantain paste to cool the itch. A crueller part of me thought she deserved everything heading her way. What good would it do to waste my tinctures and salves on an incurable curse? The gods would either save and forgive her, or take her into the Underworld covered in black lesions and sores.
With no idea whether Sorcha was in pain or not, I slept with the poppy resin and my tin pouch under my furs. They were too precious to put in temptation’s way. If Sorcha can steal a tribute to the gods, she would have little problem taking all I had and attempting to escape.
Ren stayed awake for half the night, keeping watch in case we were attacked by passing Duros. At least, that was the reason he gave. I rather think it was to keep an eye on Sorcha’s movements while we slept. When the moon was high, I heard him wake Kewri to take the second watch.
At daylight, I expected to find Sorcha dead in a bundle of furs, but she was as sprightly and annoying as ever. As she stretched and yawned, I saw the raised bumps of a rash across her collar bone and neck. Her arms looked to be affected too, although she displayed no signs of being in pain. She kicked off her furs with bare legs, wearing just her long tunic to cover down to her thighs. Near to her ankle was a large square region of red, swollen skin with a black lesion in the very centre.
There was no doubt about it now. She had incurred the wrath of Cernonnus and the stone children. Ren saw the marks too. His mouth fell open but he said nothing.
When Kewri came back from the dunes, he took a rasping inhalation. “Sorcha, look!” He pointed to her ankle and stayed there like a dutiful hunting dog.
“Och, I know. I saw it earlier. Doesn’t hurt. I expect a wee beastie bit me or something. Nothing like the midges we get in Skotek. Now they are a real pain in the arse.” Her nonchalance seemed to allay Kewri’s fears for her health. The rest of us kept our opinions to ourselves. Only time would tell if Cernonnus would take another life into his underground realm.
It was midday when the watchmen called out to open the eastern gates. The ingenious contraption Renowden designed lowered, allowing us to cross the deepest stretch of the River Exe to the island compound.
As we trotted towards the pony enclosure, I was relieved to see that my white hart still lived and appeared to be waiting for me. He must have missed me coming to feed him his grain these last few days. Passing the smelly end of the compound, where the hides were scraped and stretched, the weavers spun and dyed the wool and the meat butchered and salted, I saw Blydh standing on the new boardwalks with a hunk of roasted pork as big as my head in his fist.
I knew where he was headed. Ever since the attack on the compound, the twin’s half-brother Paega was kept prisoner in an open-air enclosure strong enough to hold a raging auroch bull. The posts were thick and driven deep into the ground. Narrow spaces between them allowed our people to see through to him, but he was unable to get out. There was just one entrance that was secured with a thick bronze rod. Not even Kewri could have reached it from the inside.
Blydh made the decision to keep him alive after his treacherous betrayal, attacking us along with the Durotriges. Some took pity on the pathetic creature, out in all weathers and having only the stream that supplied the ponies from which to drink. They threw food scraps through the gaps in the posts. Others took great delight in chucking their piss pots at him instead. Blydh preferred to sit and eat lavish foods and drink warmed ale in front of his disgraced kin, hurling insults and recollections of how he killed Paega’s mother.
This day was no different. Blydh rolled a large log onto the boards and made himself comfortable. The warm meat juices trickled through his fingers and onto the planks. “Oh, mustn’t waste those…hmm.” Blydh licked the trail of grease from his hand and then sank his teeth into the tender pork. It was a constant barrage of torture. I sometimes think Paega would have been better off if Tallack had taken his life with the shiny grey sword that day.
He may have followed Brea and the priests into siding with our enemies, but he was still my nephew, my flesh and blood. I hated how low he’d sunk, but I had no right to meddle in his treatment. Perhaps, one day, the twins will decide that he’d suffered enough. Maybe then they’ll allow him to make amends.
When we drew level with Blydh, I fancied that I might be able to distract him from his game of torment. “You are feeling better then, nephew?” I called out to him. At first, he didn’t respond. I thought he hadn’t heard me, so I bellowed louder. “Have your headaches gone, Chief Blydh?”
He turned and snarled at me. “I heard you the first time. Don’t shout at me.” His glare made me shiver, especially since one of his eyes seemed to be looking elsewhere. He hadn’t regained the sight in that eye after the procedures I’d carried out on his fractured skull. I don’t think he will ever forgive me for that.
He was in one of his black moods, and from the level of swaying in his upper body, I’d say he’d replaced poppy resin for a serious quantity of ale in pain relief. This was not the right time to speak with him about the trip to the sacred hot springs. I said no more, expecting him to mellow later when he needed the resin I carried with me.
Lifting my furs and healing kit from my pony, I left Sorcha and Kewri to feed and water him and set him loose in the western enclosure of the compound. I headed north towards my hut, dragging my tired feet along the planks. The door skins of the Long Hut were pinned back, allowing the spring air to blow in and chase out the stink of addled warriors and burnt animal fat.
Tallack saw me passing by. He yelled for me to wait until he caught up. All I wanted was to collapse on my bunk and rest, but there was much to discuss.
“Look Aunt Mel.” He held a shining bronze helm in both hands. The dome was of a thin sheet of metal, beaten and polished and secured with a ring at the bottom. The sheepskin lining was plush and carefully stitched inside, providing the perfect cushioning for Blydh’s damaged head. “The smith did a fine job, wouldn’t you say?”
“Indeed, nephew. The challenge will be convincing your brother to wear it. He’s over there taunting Paega and in a foul temper.” I edged forwards, hoping he would follow me into my hut. He did.
“Well, yes, it might prove tricky, but I’ll think of something. How was your trip? Did you come across any Duros?”
I gave him a condensed version of our last few days, emphasising the importance of the advice from the priest and the trip to the hot springs, and playing down the foolish actions of his new slave.
“I knew she’d be trouble the minute you persuaded me to let Sorcha live.” He sat on the end of my bunk and examined the helmet for scratches and unwanted dents. “You think she’ll die?”
I shrugged. “Can’t say one way or another. What I do know is that I haven’t got an ointment or tincture to combat the effects of an ancient ague from the God of Death.”
“Then I suppose we will have to get all the information about the Novantae Tribe before she drops. Might come in useful later.” He laid the helm down on my bunk with some reverence and then helped himself to my ale jug.
“Did you hear what I said about the hot springs?”
“I’m not Blydh, Aunt Mel. I was listening. You think he has a trapped demon in his head and that we have to beg the Belgae Chief to let us take him to their sacred spring.”
“I didn’t say beg.”
“But that’s what he would make us do. By all accounts, he is a devious and disagreeable man with black teeth and stinks of death. Is Endelyn sure about the sun disc and the evil spirit? Can’t we just shove him through the round stone at Men an Tol?”
I shook my head. “That’s exactly what I said, but she seems to know better. The priest at the Duros circle agreed with her.”
“So, we have no other option?”
“Blydh isn’t getting any better. I don’t think we have a choice.”
He scooped up the helm and then loomed close to touch his forehea
d to mine. “Glad you’re back. I’ve no doubt that Blydh will kick up a fuss. He never did like travelling unless it was to raid a Duro settlement.” He stopped at my doorway and looked back at me. “Come and eat in the Long Hut this evening, you can help me to convince him.”
He was gone before I could argue with him. I had all I could take of awkward young folk to last me a full moon or more, but he was the Chief and his word was my command. Taking the last of my kindling and dry sticks from beneath the eaves of the thatch, I lit my fire, refreshed the goat’s water, and unpacked my bedding before taking a well-earned nap.
Kewri still hadn’t returned from seeing to the horses when I awoke in the late afternoon. I figured that one of the twins had called him away to help them lift or carry something, but I couldn’t see him about anywhere. With my pockets full of grain, I wandered down the boards to see my white stag. He hadn’t forgotten me. The moment I stepped through the gate of the enclosure, he hurried out of the trees and nuzzled my hands for his feed.
“Dear Cernonnus, if you truly are the spirit of the God of Death, why would you inflict your anger on a silly girl who knew no better? If she makes you an offering, will you spare her life?” The deer snuffled and pushed against my cupped hands. Not once did he pause to give me a sign that he’d heard my plea. As soon as my pockets were empty, he sniffed me one last time, in case I was only pretending to have run out of oats, and then he wandered away.
There was nothing left for me to do but let events unfurl as they may. The roasting pits behind the Long Hut smelled delicious; juicy mutton and wading birds. That was when I remembered Tallack’s summons to eat with him. I wasn’t looking forward to an evening of abuse from Blydh, or the conversation that we needed to have with him, but I had no other choice.
With reluctance, I crossed the camp to the Long Hut and slipped in through the back door near the slaves cooking shelters. At least I could sneak in without Blydh making some snide comment in front of all the elders and the warriors. Ducking around the raised top table and Sorcha limping about carrying a serving tray, I slipped into my usual seat at the table next to the central fire.
Rather than hide among others as I had planned, I sat all alone against the table reserved for the twins’ half-sister, Derwa and her Ordo husband, who’d been banished some half-moon or more ago. My solitary presence was more noticeable than ever. The moment I sat down, Blydh began his tirade.
“Oh, I wondered when you’d show your face. Come to take your fill and blind a few of my men?” His voice was loud enough to silence all those present. There was nothing I could say in my defence. My actions resulted in the loss of sight in his left eye, but then without my intervention, he’d be dead. I kept my head bowed and hoped that he would tire of his insults and jibes.
“Now, brother. Be reasonable. Look what I had made for you.” Tallack produced the helm, gesturing for the elders and warriors to cheer and stamp their feet in praise of the item.
“I’m not wearing that.” Blydh shot his brother a vicious glare.
“No? I think it shows status and bearing.” Tallack lifted it onto his own head, striking a confident pose and flicking his fingers to encourage more cheering. “Great men across the seas wear things like this. They call them Kings.”
Blydh snorted into his beer. “How would you know?”
“Maleek of Tyre told me. Great Phoenician Chieftains of vast settlements bigger than we could begin to imagine, wear bronze and golden head gear. This was made in the likeness of those worn by their best warrior lords.”
“Then you keep it. You’re just as much a Chieftain as me.”
Tallack was stumped. He thought he could appeal to the competitive side of his brother. Instead he was bested by him. Confused, he looked at me to rescue the situation. I rolled my eyes; as if anything I said would make any difference.
I thought for a moment, and then stood and faced the top table. “You’re right, Chief Blydh. Tallack should keep such a magnificent helm, it suits him well. Now all who set eyes upon him will realise his importance in our tribe.”
I could see the veins pulsing in his temple. He stopped drinking and slammed his cup down on the table. “You think I am not worthy of such finery, Aunt? Is that what you think? You blind me and now I am incapable of being a Chief?” He stood up and wrenched the article from Tallack’s head, shoving it down on his own. Wincing from the pressure on his scalp, he unsheathed his sword, held it aloft and roared. The men roared back, thumping their fists on the tables and stamping their feet. Tallack winked at me.
Blydh swayed, his left eyelid twitching rapidly. “Bring me more ale.” He bellowed at Sorcha. She scampered to the platform and leaned across to pour from the large jug she carried. Just as the frothing liquid reached the rim of the horn cup, she teetered backwards, dropped the jug and fell to the floor.
CHAPTER SIX
“Get up girl. You’d better not have broken that jug.” Blydh was unaware that Sorcha was unconscious on the rushes behind him.
Tallack just sat there and looked at her. “Is she dead, Aunt Mel?”
I hurried over to where she’d fallen. Her skin was wet with sweat and I could see that a blue line from the rash on her ankle snaked up her leg beneath her leggings. Some kind of poison was working its way through her body. “Can one of you strong men pick her up?”
Tallack glanced about him, taking his time in choosing a suitable warrior, but Renowden stepped forwards to lend a hand.
“Where shall I take her, Meliora?” He said. There it was again; he’d used my given name.
I was momentarily thrown by the familiarity and found myself blushing. “Um, right, yes. Can you carry her to my hut? I’ll get Kewri to drag the extra bunk back in for her to rest on, if I can find him to ask.”
Tallack’s brows raised along with an amused smirk on his lips. I caught sight of him mouthing Meliora, to Treeve at his side. They’d interpreted the kind gesture as much more than friendship. I scowled at him, just enough to show him my displeasure, but not enough to stop me from leaving the Long Hut without stirring further rancour. In truth, I was glad of the excuse to get away.
Ren was such a help to me. He laid Sorcha down on my bunk while he sought out the patient’s bed from the unfinished shelter outside. As soon as he’d dragged it through to my hut, he transferred the unconscious girl and set about banking up the fire. “Shall I stick around in case you need me?”
There were a few moments of confusion on my part. I wasn’t sure whether he was simply being his usual kind self, or whether he wanted to share my company. Either way, I found myself nodding and growing hot in the cheeks. He smiled at me and grabbed two cups to fill with ale.
“I don’t know that I can do anything to help her.” I rubbed at my head, combing through my memories of treatments and cures that my mother had taught me all those years ago. None of them included how to reverse the ague from an insulted god. I fetched some cold water from the stream outside and pulled off her leggings. The blue line under her skin had forked at several points like the branches of a tree until her thigh was a mass of Sloe berry coloured veins.
The infection site was huge, a red raw patch of skin with a big black sore in the middle. All I could do was dab her with a wet cloth to try and cool her down.
“I should probably look out for Kewri.” Renowden said, rising from his stool by the fire. “He and Sorcha got quite close over the last few days.”
I must have looked aghast, since he laughed at me.
“You didn’t notice them sneaking off together into the caves or hiding in the dunes?”
It took a little while to sink into my brain. “But they bickered and argued the whole time.”
“Well obviously not all the time. You surprise me. I thought you’d noticed.” Chuckling, he pushed through the door skins and disappeared into the night. Well that was a shock. There was far more to Kewri than met the eye. I shall have to pay more attention to his comings and goings from now on.
So
rcha did regain consciousness for a short time, thrashing about with fever and murmuring in her addled state. Something told me that this was more severe than the ague that Ren’s friend had contracted. While he was out of the hut, I lifted her tunic and examined the areas she’d been scratching earlier in the day. Her armpits and beneath her chin were swollen. The rash was spreading and she was clammy with sweat all over. This could only end one way.
My cold compresses were doing nothing to help and she was too addled for me to ask her if she was in pain. I had a fresh supply of resin, but no way to get it into her body if she needed relief. Ren was not long in searching for Kewri. The pair of them stumbled into my hut, Ren trying to stifle a grin and Kewri red in the face and flustered.
It took a while for me to understand the comedy of such a grave situation; Senara was just behind them and fastening her clothes. From their guilty looks, it was obvious what they’d been doing. I peered at her and then at Kewri and finally at Ren, who burst into fits of laughter before apologising.
“I was just coming to see you with news.” Senara averted her eyes.
“Is that so? You came straight here as soon as you reached camp?”
She squirmed all the more for my insinuation. I moved my gaze slowly to Kewri. There was no need to say what I was thinking. For all his gentle giant character traits, he was no better than any other hot-blooded warrior of the tribe. I wondered if Senara knew that he’d been rolling under Sorcha’s furs as well as hers.
If I had to guess, I’d say she had no knowledge of the affair with the slave, or Senara might have skewered a sword through her guts before Cernonnus could infect her with the ague. Still, it’s not my place to judge. I was young once and we’ve all been at the mercy of lust at some point I’m sure.
As soon as they all saw the sorry state of the Novantae slave, their attitude shifted to quiet concern. Kewri hovered near to the fire, Senara folded her arms behind her back and stayed close to the door out of respect.
