by Sam Taw
My nephew was in the Long Hut, holding more elders at bay. It seems that while we were away from camp, Blydh had eased his temper by destroying random structures about the island, the grain store, a chicken coop and the main posts supporting the smith’s roof. Repairs were already underway, but the elders demanded compensation from the tribe’s coffers.
I sneaked into the rear entrance, next to the roasting pits and surveyed the room. That salty young upstart, Treeve was sitting in the Ruvane chair next to Tallack, preening and posturing as though it was his for the taking. From the look on Tallack’s face I could tell that he was not listening to the old men’s gripes and moans, but it was his duty to hear them out.
Senara was sitting on the middle benches, directly between the Sea Warriors seats and those frequented by the Head Hunters. She was a shield maiden with no clan, an outcast, yet equal to most in all the necessary ways. I wondered if she’d discussed our plan with Tallack while I tended to Blydh, or whether she was biding her time. I’m ashamed to say that I hoped that she would put the idea before the Chiefs in my stead. I had a feeling that it would not be received well.
When I loomed into view, past the raised platform supporting the top table, Tallack used me as an excuse to be rid of the whining elders. “Aunt Mel. Come and sit with us.” He’d often do this sort of thing, diverting attention onto others when he’d had enough. I did as I was bidden, safe in the knowledge that Tallack was ultimately on my side. He’d taken a beating from his brother for me, protected me on numerous occasions from Blydh’s wrath, knowing that he was not in full possession of his own faculties.
He waited until I had climbed the platform to sit on his mother’s chair at his side. Treeve narrowed his eyes at me from the central Ruvane position and I at him. This was not the time to open that old wound again.
“Good to see you, Nephew. It’s been a tiring quarter moon, that’s for sure.”
“You’ve settled Blydh?” He asked, waving the elders away. They tutted their annoyance but did not press their luck.
“I’ve lanced, evacuated and stitched the pustule, but it was Endelyn who soothed him. She’s with him now.” My knees crunched as I lowered myself onto the chair. My spine felt like it was grinding against a bag of rocks.
“You heard him call her Kerensa?” Tallack said.
“I did.” I studied the Chief’s features. He’d aged in the last two seasons, the strain of leadership stripping his youth of vibrancy. The collective concern for Blydh was ever present in camp, but he felt it more than most. It mattered not how often they disagreed or fought, they shared a womb and that bond would remain steadfast unto death. “Maybe his sight was clouded.” I offered up as an explanation for Blydh’s vision. “You know he can only see through one eye, maybe the other had fogged over.”
Tallack thinned his lips. “I appreciate the half-truths, Aunt Mel, but they won’t wash with me. Blydh has to go to the sacred hot springs, or he will need night and day care like a new born babe for the rest of his life.”
He had a point. I had dressed, treated, operated and re-stitched the Chief’s scalp more times over the past two moons than I could count. The flesh on his head was so ragged, I struggled to find enough sound skin to stitch. I said nothing, staring towards the back of the Long Hut, searching for a solution. It was obvious what Tallack really meant. With the demon in charge of Blydh’s body, we couldn’t afford to let him out of our sight.
“You know that we can’t keep news of Kerensa’s death from reaching her father down at the mining settlement forever?” I ventured, knowing that it was likely to get a gruff response.
“One problem at a time, Aunt Mel. Her body is rotting in the marshlands. As far as anyone but you, me, Ren and Treeve knows, she died during the attack.”
I took this as a snippy reminder to keep my nose out of his affairs. Whether it was Treeve or Tallack himself who dispatched the girl, the leader of the Alchemy Clan would most likely lead a revolt as a consequence. The more I thought about the outcome, the worse our position seemed. This was a kind and benevolent man, who managed the mining and smelting of all our tin in the western shores of our region. A man who’d sent his daughter to our compound with a view to her becoming Blydh’s Ruvane. I knew enough about Kenver’s character to understand his abiding love for Kerensa. He had the respect of all his clan and others besides. We couldn’t afford to raise his ire.
The events from the last half moon hit me all at once, Sorcha’s death, the sacrifice of my cherished white hart, and the continued troubles with my nephew. The pall of gloom hung heavy in my gut, leaving me crumpled on the chair. At the root of all this heartache, was my fateful decision to use the sun disc to protect Blydh’s brain. If only I had asked the smith for a flattened sheet of silver or tin, none of this would have happened.
Tallack seemed to sense my despair. “We’ll get Blydh to the sacred spring and all will be well again. Just you see.” He gave me one of his famed cheeky grins. It failed to cheer me.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I bolstered my courage to tackle the subject of Senara’s plan with the Duros. Tallack looked so much like his father, sitting next to me in the tall chair carved with a mighty bear head, my bravery left me. Senara glanced in my direction and then looked pointedly at the Chief, egging me on. My stare shifted uneasily and then returned to her wind-chapped face. Senara’s response was to roll her eyes at me. She grabbed her cup of ale and stood up. Striding to the centre of the top table, she stood before Tallack.
“Chief. Your aunt and I have news from the borderlands which could prove extremely useful. I’d appreciate counsel in private, if it pleases you?” Her manner so forthright, her stance was confident and steady. Did this young woman have complete mastery over all her fears?
Tallack squinted at her, assessing her earnest demeanour. “Very well. Join me in my hut and bring some ale with you. I’m parched.”
Senara slotted her fingers into a number of cups, clamped a jug of ale in the crook of her elbow, and followed me out of the Long Hut. When we reached the rear door, I stopped her with a gentle touch to her shoulder. “Thank you, my dear.” I gushed, hoping that she would take it as a cue to lead the discussions ahead.
Together we stomped along the boardwalks for the short distance to Tallack’s hut and let ourselves inside. In my jittery state, I hadn’t noticed the whereabouts of Treeve. He scampered along in front of the Chief to claim his position next to Tallack on the end of his bunk. I thought I could keep a lid on my disgust, but it leaked out of me in the form of a high-pitched scoff. I received a scowl for my petulance from both men.
Senara had the sense to stay quiet on the matter. She launched into a full account of our journey to the borderlands and how she had secured the services of a Duro scout. Her careful choice of words and phrases made it sound as though it was a collaborative plan put to the elders of the Duros, even though it was solely hers. She should have taken full credit for such an ingenious suggestion.
It was when I saw Tallack’s reaction to her account that I realised why she had shared the glory. If the idea was ill received, she would not be the only one to incur the Chief’s wrath.
Tallack’s happy mood evaporated at once; the laughter lines pinching into a frown. “And you decided to do all this without my consent, without consulting either me or my brother?” His terse tone prickled the hairs on the back of my neck. He was on the verge of losing his temper.
“Chief,” Senara continued, undaunted by the alteration in mood. “It was a fortunate encounter of which we took advantage. There was no time to ride back to speak with you or Chief Blydh. Nothing need come of this arrangement, if that’s what you choose to do, but know that it could solve more than one significant problem if their elders agree to the terms.”
“That’s a big kyjyan ‘if’ Senara.” He roared.
“What have we got to lose? Brea and the Duros go on being our sworn enemies, Blydh carries on taking our men out to be slaughtered in idiotic raids along t
he borderlands and our homesteaders will be in as much danger as they’ve ever been. If we see how this plays out, we stand a real chance of forging a path towards peace; something your forefathers never achieved.”
She was doing so well until that last point. I could see Tallack tipping towards her way of thinking until she made mention of our ancestors. His father, Aebba the Wild, had given his half-sister Wenna in marriage to the Durotriges’ Chief in the hope of brokering peace. That didn’t turn out so well for either of them.
Senara failed to notice the Chief’s cool reception. She ploughed on with her reasoning as though it was a foregone conclusion that he’d agree. “We have it on good authority that the elders would jump at the chance to discuss terms.”
“Good authority? You are relying on the word of a scout whose loyalty was bought for a few measly grains of tin. For all you know, he could’ve ridden straight back to Brea and told her everything. We’d be walking straight into a trap.”
“No, Chief. I know this scout well; he can be trusted.” She persisted.
“You are remarkably quiet on the subject, Aunt Mel. Normally, I can’t shut you up. What’s this fellow like?”
I swallowed, stalling for time. Both sides of the argument were equally valid. We had spent one night with the Duro scout, and in that time, he was a gracious host. There was no way of knowing whether Senara knew him more intimately, and I did not care to ask, but she placed a great deal of trust in him. I could also see my nephew’s point. The Novantae were perfect hosts to us at the top of the world while we stayed at their settlement. It didn’t stop them turning on us when the moment presented itself to them.
I scratched my head. “We have time to think everything through. There’s no need to act on this immediately. If you do decide to meet and discuss terms with the Duros, you could send an emissary rather than go yourself.”
Tallack did that irritating habit of his where he plays with the straggling whiskers growing on his chin. I swear he thinks it makes him look wiser than his young age. I have a better crop of whiskers than he does, foolish youth. When he’d finished his little display, he stood up from the end of his bunk next to Treeve. “And when did you propose this elder meeting would take place?”
“Senara agreed upon a system of signals for the scout at the River Sid crossing but, I doubt the Duros will be prepared to wait for long.”
“Fine, I’ll think about it, but right now we must make Blydh the priority. Not a word to anyone in the meantime.” He flounced about his hut, flinging off his cloak and untying his leggings. Aunt Mel, come and eat in the Long Hut tonight, there’s plenty of venison left from the sacrifice.” As he pulled off his tunic and turned to face a grinning Treeve on his bunk, Senara and I made a hasty retreat.
On our walk back towards my hut, we passed the roasting pits. The stag’s head rested on the end of the butcher’s block, his tongue swollen and protruding, his eyes milky, his white fur caked in dried and blackened humours. Flies supped at the blood patches in his nostrils. I’m well accustomed to the stench of death, both animal and human, but this time I retched. I’d let my emotions loose from the cage of grief after my slave’s death, and was rewarded with more heartache.
There are times when I curse the gods for allowing me to live for so long. Why must I persist while the young around me perish? Is there no respite in this wicked world?
Senara hurried off to find Kewri, leaving me standing next to the pony enclosure with no white hart to listen to my gripes. I sat on the edge of the boardwalk and poked the mud with a stick. I didn’t want to return to my hut just to listen to Endelyn manipulate Blydh, or for him to turn on me again. There were more chores in need of attention than I could count, but none that were so urgent that they couldn’t afford to wait.
I stayed there for some time, until the chill of the early spring evening seeped into my bones and stiffened the joints. No one paid me any attention. They went about their business as though finding me idle was an everyday occurrence. When the sun hid behind the trees at the western boundary, I heaved myself up and walked home.
Blydh was asleep on my bed, with Endelyn nestled against his neck. Both were fully clothed and above my furs. As much as I wanted to creep back out unseen, my fire was low and required more fuel. There was no way I was going to endure another freezing night without one.
The embers heated the sap inside the wood as I tossed on more logs, waking my guests with the crackles and spits. Sparks threatened the thatch for a time, but died before they could take hold.
Endelyn yawned and stretched, levering herself up onto an elbow. Blydh blinked a few times and then sat upright. I held my breath, wondering which version of my nephew would greet me, the demonic spirit from the Underworld, or my sweet nephew of old. His hand reached up to the dressing covering his scalp, touching the site of the pustule with great care. He winced and immediately moved his fingers away.
“It’ll be tender for some time, I’m afraid.” I said quietly, expecting a great barrage of complaint and anger.
“I expect so.” Blydh peered up at me, rubbing his left eye with a bent knuckle. “Aunt Mel? Is there any more resin?”
I’d grown so used to the demon version of him that he took me by surprise. It was a while before I came to my senses. “Tallack said that you’d used up the whole pot. All I have is willow. Would you like me to…?” I reached over to my herbal stores and took out a little dried bark, hovering with it dangling from my clutches.
“Anything to dull the pain would be good. Thanks.”
Keen to make the most of this brief period of calm, I heated my largest knife in the fire and plunged it into a cup of water. When it was bubbling furiously, I tipped the crushed stems into the liquid.
Endelyn sported a grin from ear to ear, content to sprawl across his legs with her own. Was she really alright with him believing that she was his dead lover? I couldn’t make out what her intentions were. She couldn’t keep the illusion going forever. As if Blydh was reading my mind, he scooted to the edge of the bunk and tried to stand. “The priestess tells me there’s a chance I’ll get my sight back. That’s good news isn’t it?”
I almost dropped the cup in the fire I was so shocked. This fleeting moment of lucidity was all it had taken for her to embed her claws. “Is that so, nephew? And what would that be?”
“She says that there’s a sacred spring where the gods grant wishes. Endelyn and I are going there come dawn.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I stood frozen to the spot, waiting for my nephew’s cordial mood to splinter into countless shards. In this solitary moment, he knew that the woman whispering into his ear was the priestess and not his former lover.
His reckless abandon was reined in to the point of civility towards me. Was her promise of healing at the sacred springs all it had taken to calm his noxious temper? More importantly, how would he react if he knew her real purpose for luring him to the springs was to drive out a demon from his head?
“Well, that is something to celebrate.” I said, although it came out a little unnatural and forced. “Shall we all go over to the Long Hut and tell Chief Tallack?” I just wanted my hut back; in case the demon resurfaced and wrestled my sweet boy back into submission.
Endelyn shimmied to her feet and attached herself to his arm. “What a wonderful idea, Fur Benyn. Maybe we can all go and make a pilgrimage of the whole trip.”
“Hmm, maybe.” I grumbled, grabbing my cloak and following them across the grass. With the willow tonic in hand, I pondered on the time restraints involved in setting up a possible meeting with the Duro elders. We couldn’t be in two places at once after all.
Tallack was overjoyed to see Blydh up and about. He ordered his men to fill their cups in a toast to Blydh’s recovery. I loitered near the door, waiting to see what Endelyn would do. She didn’t disappoint. I could see her shallow designs on my nephews from a running distance. When she failed to interest Tallack, she had no other option but to cure Blydh, m
aking him fit to rule with her at his side. He was a much harder quarry but the woman was determined, of that I had no doubt.
Leaning against the wall, I watched the twins embrace and sit next to one another in their impressive carved chairs at the top table. Treeve slithered from the Ruvane seat and sat on the opposite side of Tallack in Cryda’s spot. Endelyn waited until all the cheering and noise had died down, before adopting a coy and bashful stance in front of both Chiefs. With one knee bent inward, she twirled a braid of fair hair around her finger. My, she’s a shrewd one and observant too. That’s precisely how their mother wheedles around them.
“Where should I sit, Chief?” She almost sang the words at the pair of them. Even Tallack was taken by the performance.
“Come and sit up here, priestess.” Blydh announced, finding his old authoritative tone in front of his warriors. “Right here, next to me.” He patted the bench at the side of his wolf head chair where visiting dignitaries usually sat.
The pipers began a jolly tune while the slaves brought in platters piled high with the cooked flesh of my white hart. My stomach turned at the sight. I pushed myself upright from the wall and handed the willow tonic to a passing slave.
“Give that to Chief Blydh if he asks for it, although I guess he’d prefer ale in its place.” I turned to leave, but was stopped at the door by my friend, Renowden.
“You’re not going already, are you? I thought we could eat together.” He saw my distress at the enthusiasm with which the warriors consumed the venison. “I’m sorry, Meliora. It must be hard for you.”
I shook off my emotions. “It was just a deer. People have to eat.”
“He was more than that and you know it.” His kindness almost had me undone. “People are giving Endelyn the credit for saving them from the black scab death.”
