by Sam Taw
By the time we were safely on our side of the bank, I turned to see Tallack holding out his hand in offer of friendship. Fane wavered for a moment, and then leant from his horse to grasp my nephew’s forearm. Despite the show of alliance between our tribes, it was too soon for the men to trust one another.
I craned my neck in search of the Lady Brea on the opposite bank. All I could see were the neat rows of Duro warriors and their own line of shields defending them. Tallack was still atop his horse in the middle of the bridge. Any one of Fane’s men could have shot him through with a half dozen arrows before he could make it back on dry land, but by the same token, we too could have slain their new leader.
Brea was heard before she was visible. Her shrieks and squeals unsettled the horses as the Duro men dragged her from behind their lines. Her arms were bound, her clothing was filthy and torn, and she had severe bruising to her face. The more she fought against her captors the more they gripped her upper arms tightly.
“You kyjyan low-life scum.” She spat at Fane on her way past him. “Watch him men, he’ll sell your soul to Cernonnus for less than a mangy fox pelt.”
The warriors escorting her over the crossing pulled a gag up from her neck and fastened the knot behind her head. They stopped halfway, still clinging on to her arms. Kewri and I swapped glances. What price had Tallack agreed in exchange for the mountain girl?
My nephew pulled the reins of his horse to the left until it turned about in the confined space and began trotting towards us.
Addressing the whole host of our people, Tallack said, “The Duros will only give us Brea if we pay a substantial amount of tin and agree to favourable trades in the future. We don’t have enough tin with us to complete the deal. Chief Fane does not trust us to keep our word that we will deliver the metal as soon as it arrives from the mines at Bentewyn.”
All at once I saw the slippery Duro’s mind. He expected a life for a life; an assurance that we would keep our word. Panic welled inside me, wondering who the old man had selected as his captive.
Tallack swallowed hard and continued the address to his men. “Fane has given me his arm in friendship, along with his guarantee that our people will be treated with dignity and respect.”
Massen’s shoulder’s slumped. He stepped forward from the line of our warriors and grit his teeth. “I will stand as assurance, Chief.” Such courage, such sacrifice. He was willing to put his life in the hands of our enemies to bring about peace, without knowing what the Duros would do to him once they had him imprisoned in their camp.
“You are brave and courageous, Massen, and I thank you, but Fane’s demand is for two of my best warriors.”
The contents of my stomach erupted in my gullet. We all knew to whom he was referring; Renowden had to give himself up to the Duros too. He did not need asking, my best friend in the whole world stepped forward before Tallack could get the words out.
“I’ll go, Chief.” He said, looking straight ahead at the line of warriors on the opposite bank.
I felt my heart splintering in my chest. My ribs contracted until I could hardly breathe. “No!” I whimpered, but it was too late. Both Ren and Massen were on the crossing before I could object. As our brave men reached the centre of the bridge, the Duros gave Brea a shove and produced leather straps with which to bind their hands.
I climbed from the cart and hurried over to Tallack. “What have you done?”
My nephew leaned closer to me and spoke softly. “I had no other choice, Fane wanted you.”
I was reeling. My breath refused to steady, my heart thumped inside my chest and the grief of the last few days exploded in noisy sobs. Memories of my youth flooded my brain, ruining my judgement. It was as if I was taken back in time, only this Duro Chief wanted my life, not my body. Even still, why should two experienced warriors take all the risk in my place?
“Nephew, they can take me. I surrender freely. I’m old and of no use to anyone. Let the men be spared.” I pawed at his legs to gain his attention, but it was all for nought. Ren and Massen were bound for the Duro camp, each tied to a long rope and running behind the warrior’s horses.
Tallack dismounted and approached Brea. Her garbled ranting was impossible to understand with the gag in her mouth. He pulled the cloth down and glared at her.
Within moments, her spite and venom vanished. “Chief Tallack. You are fair and honourable, I know that you’ll be willing to come to some sort of arrangement, won’t you?” Her words were glazed with honey, her smile as poisonous as the berries she slipped into Aebba’s meal.
I waited for Tallack to rebuke her, shout, scream or beat her. He did none of those things. With a slow glower of revulsion, he looked down his nose and said; “My mother will decide how you’ll die. She’s had a long time to think up many slow and painful methods of execution.”
There I stood, rooted to the spot among a throng of warriors and archers as they started back for our camp. When almost everyone had left the crossing, that fateful place of death and upset, Kewri put his arm about my shoulders and helped me on to the wagon. Blydh oozed and stank in the back, but I was numb to all sensations.
I don’t remember the return journey. The rumbling cart jogged me into a daze. I had achieved a peace accord with no bloodshed, but lost my best friend in the process. Fane had given Tallack two moons to make good on his promise of metal, or our men would be tortured unto death.
When we arrived at the island compound, Paega’s cage was made secure so that Brea could await her sentence under the stars, with only a stream sullied by horse kawgh and piss for sustenance. I went straight to my hut and burrowed under my bedding furs. As soon as word spread around camp about Brea, the pipers and drummers started their infernal noise.
They had cause to celebrate I know, but the speed at which they forgot the cost was staggering. There was no way of knowing whether Chief Fane would keep his end of the bargain and treat our men well while they were at his mercy. From the state of Brea, I knew that he was fond of beating prisoners and Cernonnus knows what other ordeals she must have suffered.
As much as I wanted to shut out the world and hide under the covers until the gods came to take me, I was curious as to what Cryda had chosen for Brea’s death. She was fond of spectacular shows and elaborate schemes. Her mission in life was to be the focus of all the tribe’s attention, something at which she excelled.
Wearing the hood of my cloak up, and having partially covered my face, I sneaked into the rear door of the Long Hut sometime after dark. The men were already deep in their cups, lounging on the benches and goading each other into brawls. It seems that they had prepared themselves for battle and were disappointed in the outcome.
Why they were so keen to join their ancestors instead of compromising will always be a mystery to me, but then I am neither warrior nor shield maiden. Perhaps I will never fully understand. Senara was sitting near the front door of the hut cradling the young pup Ren gave to Endelyn.
Edging closer to the top table, I saw the priestess. Tallack had invited her to sit at his side in the Ruvane chair between that of the Chiefs’. Young Treeve look most annoyed, sitting next to Blydh’s empty wolf’s head seat with a scowl that would not relent.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Cryda took the chair next to Tallack, nursing the baby Delen with an air of serenity I have not seen in her for many springs. Her husband would at last be avenged. Aebba could sit with his forefathers in the Summerlands watching over us all, instead of roaming the Between Worlds lost.
I ordered a slave to bring me a stool and a cup and waited patiently for the announcement. By the rear door, I was out of sight to all those seated at the top table. Every elder and warrior before me stuffed themselves with rich meats, fine fish and more ale than they deserved. My appetite for celebration had vanished. It was a victory of sorts, barring the death of Blydh and the unknown fate of Ren and Massen.
When the stars shone brightly in the clear sky, Tallack barked at his men to fe
tch Brea. It was time for Cryda to declare her decision. She handed Delen to her slave and preened her hair. It flowed down her back in golden ringlets, unclipped and unadorned. All her metal belonged to the Belgae now. I could tell that she was savouring every moment of attention.
As the men dragged Brea into the Long Hut, she punched out and kicked at them, her final acts of defiance. Wives of the elders hissed at her as she passed them. Many had lost sons, and some their daughters too, in the attack Brea led on our camp. She was hated in every corner of Dumnonia.
Two burly warriors held Brea in front of the top table. The room hushed. Cryda stepped down from the platform, stood face to face with our old adversary and slapped Brea hard about the cheek. Brea’s skin glowed red, her eyes watered but she did not cry out. This mountain girl knew pain well. As the least favoured of Aebba’s wives, she suffered nightly from his brutal treatment. It was an education in endurance and no doubt what forced her to poison him in the first place.
Tallack stood in front of his tall chair; his face stern and lean. This was to be his first formal sentencing as sole Chieftain of our tribe. I could see from his pain-etched face how seriously he took the role. It gave me hope that the Dumnonii were in safe but firm hands for the future.
“Brea of the North Kembran Ordoviches, wedded to Aebba the Wild of the Dumnonii, and interim leader of the Durotriges Tribe; you are charged with killing my father, responsible for countless deaths of our people, and of attempting to murder my aunt of noble blood not once, but twice. Do you wish to say anything before your sentence is announced?”
Brea snorted at us all. “You self-righteous kyjyans stood by and let that monster brutalise me every night for more than six cycles. Did you expect me to go on tending my bruises and broken ribs without fighting back? There is nothing noble about your blood. You are all born of animals.” She spat at Cryda’s feet but missed by a hair’s breadth.
Cryda encircled Brea, looking her up and down and sneering. “If it were in my power, I’d see you die a hundred times for what you’ve done to my family.”
Brea scoffed. “If you had at least tried to treat me as one of the family, protected me from Aebba’s cruelty…”
Cryda slapped her again, preventing her from explaining her actions. I could see both sides of the argument, but her manipulations of the twins negated any sympathy I once felt for the girl. Power wielded by the vengeful is a dangerous thing.
The former Ruvane stepped closer to the prisoner. “I have thought long and hard about your death.” Cryda was so close to Brea their noses were almost touching. “At first, I wanted to see you choking down the same berries you fed to Aebba; watch your tongue blacken and swell, see you gasp your final breath, but that would be over too soon.”
Cryda moved back and took a long look at the crowds in the benches; the expectant faces of our warriors and elders, all waiting to support her decision.
“I have made up my mind. Brea will be ripped asunder and eaten by a pack of wolves.”
The proclamation was met with silence and confusion. It was a punishment no one in our tribe had ever tried before. The surprise and vacant looks from those around her, I suspect, stemmed from puzzlement over how it might be achieved. Cryda looked distressed by their lack of encouragement. I started the foot stamping, which roused the warriors into cheers and thumping their fists down on the tables. It was certainly a novel way to kill our sworn enemy, and a messy one at that.
Tallack rose from his tall chair and lifted his palm to silence the crowd. “My mother has spoken; it shall be done. Take the prisoner back to the cage and sluice her down. She stinks.” The raucous chatter and hollering lasted just a few moments more, before Tallack returned to his seat and beckoned some of the elders forward.
As far as I could tell, he was asking their advice, but none knew how best to harness the fury of a pack of wolves. I stared down in my cup. There was one man who would know the answer, but he and his fellow Sea Warrior friend were a day’s ride away in the Duros’ camp, that’s if he was still alive.
Around the corner of the top table platform, I could see the older men shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads. They were not experienced warriors, nor hunters. They were little more than weavers, dyers, cattlemen and leather workers. How would they know the ways of wild things?
It wasn’t long before I heard the command I was expecting. “Fetch my aunt. I would have her counsel.” Tallack looked on while the elders backed away and turned their gazes in my direction. There was no point in concealment now.
“I’m here, Chief.”
Tallack moved to the end of the platform and peered down at me. “Why are you hiding down there? Come and sit by me.”
It was a strange request. There were few seats on the top table and even fewer that did not already have one of his favoured people occupying them. I struggled to my feet, weary of tribal life and heartache. Glancing up at Treeve, Endelyn, Tallack and Cryda, who had returned to her son’s side, I elected to sit at my old table in front of them, alone. My kin had dwindled in number, my friends and allies further still.
They could not see that I was suffering loss as much as they. Did they truly believe that age and wisdom make you immune to grief? My heart was not yet stone. It beat though it had no right to, when younger lives were snuffed out before mine.
“Tell us, Aunt Mel,” Tallack began. “How do you…?”
“Dig a pit the length, width and depth of a mid-sized boat with a thick section of tree trunk leaning from the edge to the bottom.” I interrupted, my voice heavy and disinterested. “Tether a goat within, but not one of mine. As soon as the wolves climb in after the bait, heave the trunk out with ropes and horses.” I couldn’t help but feel despondent. When would the bloodshed end? “Now if you’ll give me leave, Chief, I have business to attend.” I didn’t wait for his permission. With my knees clicking and my back popping as it straightened, I headed for the door.
Before I reached the last row of benches, Tallack called after me. “We will get them back, Aunt Mel. I promise.” It was another promise he could not be sure of keeping. Ren and Massen’s lives were no longer in his control. Everything rested on Chief Fane’s word and the speed at which our Alchemists could deliver enough tin to appease him.
The sun was low in the sky when I left. Slaves sat in the back of the Chieftain’s cart, repacking Blydh’s wrappings with more moss. I should have stopped to ask them what orders Cryda had given them, but I didn’t want the subject of defleshing his bones to resurface. One thing was certain, it would take some time to prepare for Brea’s inventive death, and even longer to organise the interment of Aebba and Blydh. My nephew would have fully rotted before then.
I was so used to seeing ducks, rabbits or often fish suspended beneath my eaves, gifts from my friend Renowden that my heart sank upon reaching my door. With no fire, food, nor tin with which to trade, I went to my bed, sank into my furs and cried for a long time. Whether the tears fell for my grief over Blydh, my failure to keep him safe after his head was smashed in, or because I was frightened for my friend Ren, I couldn’t say, but they gushed from me unimpeded.
Long after nightfall, Kewri bustled in the hut, moaning to himself about the chilly air. I had a shrewd idea where he’d been, but was in no hurry to confirm my suspicions. The poor giant was suffering too, in his own clumsy way. Senara’s affections were no longer his to take for granted. She had moved on to new pastures. I had my suspicions over her new infatuation, but no evidence with which to support my hunch. Time would tell.
The morning brought a frozen water trough in my goat pen and steam on the piss pot. There was enough fresh milk and grain to make a little porridge, but only after Kewri had lit a fire. While he grumbled and walked to another hut for a couple of glowing embers to ignite a handful of kindling, I wandered in the direction of the priestess’s hut.
I could hear her and Senara giggling while the pup frolicked and growled. “Can I come in?” I called out with as cheer
ful a tone as I could muster. Stepping over the newest gifts and offerings at her door, I waited for the reply and pushed through the door flaps. Every space was filled with more lavish goods and foods. I spied a necklace of exotic glass and clay beads, a bronze hair pin and several stylish belts of leather.
The women looked at me as though I was trespassing. It was the first time I’d felt uncomfortable checking on a patient in more moons than could be counted. “I… um, came to see how you were. Do you need any more poppy resin?”
Endelyn got up from the bunk and scooped the pup into her arms. “I’m fine, Fur Benyn. You have no need to worry about me. Senara has been taking care of me.” They exchanged a long and intimate look.
“Glad to hear it, Priestess. You know where I am if you change your mind about a hastening tonic.” I ducked back outside and heard them giggling together once more.
It’s odd, because I was sure that I heard her whisper as I left; “Nothing will stop me bearing this child.”
I hope to Cernonnus that I’m wrong, but if she is carrying Blydh’s baby, that makes it the heir to our entire land. Tallack’s liking for his crewman, Treeve had lasted for much longer than his usual relationships. At some time in the near future, he would have to take at least one wife and continue his line or we’d end up in the exact same tangle as the Duros.
Sighing, I stepped up onto the newest boardwalk to catch a glimpse of our prisoner. The route took me past the smith. I lingered, curious as to why he was removing the sheepskin lining from Blydh’s helmet. He bid me good day and turned to throw the metal dome in his melting pot over the hot coals.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked, but it was too late. It had begun to sink into the molten pool with all his other broken spearheads and blades.
“Chief’s orders.” He yelled above the roar of the flames as his apprentice worked the bellows. I turned my palms upward and shrugged, waiting for an explanation.
“Tallack wants Chief Blydh to take a great battle axe with him to the Summerlands. He said that the helm would remind him of his weaknesses at the end and told me to reuse the metal.” The smith gave me a pitying smile and returned to his labours.
