Pagan Rage

by Sam Taw

  I knew why Tallack had insisted on destroying the helmet. It made perfect sense to me. He didn’t want the evil spirit trapped as a stowaway inside his brother’s head for all time. I could imagine the shame it would bring to our ancestors if that should happen.

  The bronze was also about all we had left to pay Cernonnus, God of Death and the Wild Forest. Perhaps his interment would be more fitting of a Chieftain, when the Alchemists arrived with a shipment of tin.

  Brea was shivering in her cage. As I arrived, one of the weaver women threw scraps from her table at the prisoner. At least she was getting some sustenance. After the huge mess Kewri and I made over Paega’s captivity, I decided to stay well away.

  Over the course of a few days, Tallack sent warriors out to dig the wolf pit, more were dispatched to our northern mine to give word to Clemo about the fate of his nephew and his boats, and Cryda taunted Brea in her roofless cage on a daily basis.

  Just as I was coming to terms with the routine of camp life, Cryda turned up at my door. She was wearing her pleading face, that infuriating pout that was so effective on Aebba.

  “Meliora, you said you’d help me to prepare Blydh’s body. He’ll turn fast if you don’t do something.”

  I wanted to shout at her, tell her that I made no such promise, but her plight was one of desperation. We’d heard nothing from the men tasked with capturing a pack of wolves, and the tin delivery was nowhere to be seen. The closer we got to the next full moon, the more fretful I became for Ren and Massen’s lives. The slaves attended the body morning, noon and night, but they were not able to prevent putrefaction.

  There was always the possibility of borrowing a blade from one of our warriors for the defleshing ritual, but I was not confident in wielding an unknown dagger; at least, that’s what I told Cryda. The truth was that I couldn’t bring myself to cut his bones from his flesh.

  “But what are we to do? They’ll be nothing left to bury if we leave him in this heat.” Cryda was right, of course. It had been a dry spring, with frosty nights and scorching sunny days.

  “I spoke to a man at the midsummer gathering one time, who told me about a rare funerary ritual that preserved the whole man like a fish.” I muttered, more to myself than to her. The recollection was vague and I wondered if I could remember the precise details of what had to be done.

  Cryda had screwed her face up in disgust. “He’s not a salmon, Meliora. He must have the same dignified end as his forefathers.”

  That, I almost laughed at but managed to stop myself. There was nothing dignified in Aebba’s ending nor Blydh’s. She would have to go back as far as my own father to find an honourable Chieftain’s death. At least he was chosen by the Morrighan at the battle between us and the Brigantes of East Iwerdon.

  I’d put it off for too long. Blydh could wait no more. Giving Kewri a list of all the things I would need to borrow, I set off with Cryda to wash and preserve her son until his burial. The slaves lifted the body to the riverbank, where we unwrapped the swaddling and moss and washed his skin clean.

  His pale skin had mottled in dark grey patches and parts were open like a wound and seeping pus. The scar where I’d stitched up his scalp had dried and shrunk, like his lips. It gave him an unnatural grin that made my stomach churn. The worst parts were his eyeballs. They could no longer hold their shape, being wrinkled and pitted where the liquid had oozed out.

  I closed his eyelids, not wanting him to give me that evil stare I’d grown used to while he lived. Cryda didn’t seem to notice the foul stench of maggoty offal or the festering kawgh as I sliced into his belly to remove his guts. She shovelled them into a clay jar and sealed the lid with wax as though she was changing the moss from little Delen’s arse. This was a mother’s love, unending even beyond death.

  We had but two choices to make. Either we placed Blydh in a huge amount of salt, or we dried his flesh over a smoking fire. I knew that Cryda would prefer the salt option, but we had no tin to trade for enough salt to complete the job. I also knew that she would object to the use of fire, since it was too similar to a pyre used for the common warriors and elders when they died.

  With those considerations in mind, I chose for her. “There is no other way, Cryda. He must be dried.” She squeezed out a tear or two and wailed a bit, but it had little effect on me. I left her by the stinking remains of my nephew and went in search of warriors to lend a hand.

  I’d made it all the way to the southern end of the island before I spotted a few of Tallack’s Sea Warriors jumping onto the riverbank from a row boat beyond the gates. Treeve was among them.

  “Ah, Treeve, just the man. I need your assistance with something important.”

  He tied off the rope, his wide-eyed stare filled with panic. “Can it wait a while, Fur Benyn? Kenver’s ship from Bentewyn is in the estuary. He’ll be here before sundown.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Now I understood the wild expression and fear in his eyes. Treeve knew the danger of Kenver coming to our compound more than anyone. Whether it was he or my nephew who killed Kenver’s daughter, I doubt I shall ever know, but young Treeve disposed of the body in the marshland and not before he’d rifled through her pockets and taken the wealth hidden inside the quill necklace she wore.

  Delaying him would not benefit anyone. “Run along and tell Tallack. I’ll sort something else out.”

  “If you’re sure?” He said, but didn’t wait for me to change my mind. He ran as though he had an ember caught in his leggings.

  My feelings about Kenver’s arrival were mixed. There was now a chance that we could secure Ren and Massen’s release from the Duros with the tin he’d brought from the mines, but I also knew that he would expect to meet his daughter, Kerensa in camp. There were so many secrets that could tip the balance of power in his favour and turn the Alchemists against us for all time.

  The messengers had not yet returned from the meeting point where we’d left Clemo and our horses on the northern shore. He was Kenver’s brother and responsible for the mining settlement there. It was only a matter of time before the whole story came out. The Alchemists would need careful handling if we were to avoid a catastrophic breakdown between our clans.

  I found some of Blydh’s Head Hunters and explained my problem. They were only too happy to help. While they set about building a structure in which to smoke the body, I hurried back to the Long Hut to speak with Tallack. It was critical that we all used the same lie about the fate of Kenver’s children.

  As soon as my nephew saw me, he widened his eyes and shook his head. “I know, I know. It’s all in hand.”

  I walked closer squinting, hoping that he would elaborate.

  He waited until I was almost at the top table. “Both Kerensa and Hellyer were received into the Summerlands, having bravely fought and died for their tribe. Hellyer remains in Belgae lands and Kerensa was honoured on the pyre with our fallen warriors.”

  “You know that’s risky. You told our people she had ridden home.” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low.

  “No. I told Blydh she’d ridden home whenever he was confused. Everyone else believes that she fell during the attack on our island.”

  It was his decision, when all was said and done, but our people carried the fallen to the pyre. They knew precisely which warriors were dead, those who were injured and who survived. One slip of the tongue and our tin supplies could be lost to us forever. I returned to Cryda at the stream more anxious than ever.

  When most of Blydh’s innards and the golden sun disc were removed from his body, we poured salted water into the cavity and let it drain out. Cryda stayed at his side until the men came to carry him to the smoke chamber. I left her with her slave and Delen to watch the row boats come ashore with the cargo from Kenver’s ship. The leader of the Alchemist Clan was in the first boat, standing at the bow with a beaming grin. As he stepped onto the riverbank, he held out his arm in greeting but then changed his mind. He grabbed my shoulders and touched his forehead
to mine, as though we were close family.

  I blushed. “It’s good to see you, Kenver. Have you kept well, my friend?”

  “I have, yes. And you? You look well, Fur Benyn.”

  We batted idle chatter between us for a while, walking up to the southern gates and stopping periodically to watch the men unloading the bars of tin and a few green tinged rocks in baskets.

  “As soon as Tallack sent word about the copper deposits on Lizard Point, we went in search of them. A couple of us have tried to extract copper, but we’re not quite there with purity yet. We brought these rocks to compare with the one your niece’s husband found. Is he still here?”

  “Ah, no. She and her husband returned to the mountains, where they will both stay.” I didn’t think it necessary to explain Derwa and Glaw’s part in their escape plan for Paega, especially since they were banished when Kewri was forgiven for accidentally setting him loose. That giant must have the gods favour to be spared punishment for two heinous crimes, or perhaps Tallack could see how useful it was to have such a warrior on our side.

  “That’s a pity. I was hoping to speak with him, maybe share a few smelting tips.” He rested his hands on his hips and took in the surroundings. “This is a fine new compound you’ve built here. Most impressive.” With his hands rubbing together he began walking towards the Long Hut. “Now, I’d like to share a cup of ale with my daughter. Where is she?”

  I gulped down my anxiety and tried to smile, overtaking his slow pace to avoid answering him. There were few warriors around Tallack’s fire that day. Most were about their business, training new recruits or helping Cryda with the preparation of Blydh’s body. That made it a little easier for my nephew to relay the sad news of Kenver’s children passing.

  The Alchemist took the blow with poise and stillness, although I knew him well enough to see through the mock composure. The poor man was beyond distressed. Tallack emphasised the bravery of Hellyer, praising him lavishly to make up for the scarce information regarding Kerensa’s passing.

  Kenver lowered himself down on the bench where I normally sat. He was stunned for some time, staring at the flames of the central fire and refusing food and ale from the slaves. I offered to forage for fresh mallow sap to cure his melancholy, but he just shook his head. When at last he looked up at me, he said; “Did you see my son fall?”

  “I did. It was a quick death, he didn’t suffer.”

  He held my gaze searching for more, but I had none to give.

  “And Kerensa?”

  I looked away, unable to face him. “No. I was not nearby for that tragedy.” It was all I dared offer him. His stare bored into the side of my face, warming my cheeks. I tapped his back with affection and rose to leave.

  “Fur Benyn, thank you.”

  “For what?” I spun about, baffled.

  “Your kindness to my children. Those medicines were all that kept us going through the winter ague. I won’t forget that.”

  The lump in my throat would not ease, my eyes blurred with sorrow. I had to leave before I blurted the whole shameful event out, casting dishonour on his daughter’s name for all time. By the time I’d made it through the front door, Tallack caught up with me. I cuffed my humours onto my sleeve, mopping up the tears and sniffing the watery snot.

  “There’s more than enough tin to trade for Ren and Massen, but we also need weapons and grain. Our stores are empty and the harvest is five moons away.”

  I frowned at my nephew, unsure as to what he expected me to do. We had already cleaned out all the tin from the northern mines, and Kenver was unlikely to return to the mining camp at Bentewyn anytime soon, having been summoned by the former Ruvane to participate in the rituals for Aebba and Blydh. Even if he did, it would take half a cycle to replenish the tin supplies squandered on the Belgae. Without a solution to offer, I shrugged.

  Tallack looked pitiful. “What I’m saying is, that it might take a bit longer than anticipated to get Ren and Massen back.”

  I gasped at his suggestion. “You can’t be serious. Chief Fane gave you two moons to make good on your word. Where do you suppose that we can find more tin before then?”

  “So, you would have our people starve instead?”

  My lips pursed; my jaw set. “You made a promise to both me and the Duros. We can ration the grain, send the warriors out hunting and have fewer ridiculously wasteful feasts. You must get Ren released. He and Massen will suffer a horrific fate if you fail them.” My nephew had no concept of starvation. Those beyond our walls knew how to eke out their provisions. One small piece of meat in a stew would feed a family for two days. Tallack felt deprived if he only had the choice of goose or duck.

  He failed to give me an answer. Instead, he screwed up his nose and marched off towards the priestess’s hut. I watched him for a few moments, as he stopped next to the carved poles and bowed his head in communion with the gods. Perhaps they would somehow talk some sense into him.

  Blydh’s body took days of smoking to dry out. When the warriors lifted him out of the cabin, his knees tucked to his chin, his arms crossed over his chest, the skin had taken on a leathery brown appearance. Cryda burst into tears and ran back to her hut the moment she caught sight of him.

  Directing the men to the shelter Kewri built for my patients, I took clean fabric and set about wrapping his body. It shocked me how light Blydh was now that all the moisture had gone from his flesh. If it wasn’t for the broken skull and shrunken stitches, I’d never have known it was my nephew’s body.

  With a continuous guard at the door, Blydh stayed in the shelter away from the camp dogs and stray foxes for more than a quarter moon. I kept myself busy with my goats and spring gathering of new shoots and herbs to blend into balms and tonics. Tallack spent an unhealthy amount of time in his hut with Treeve, while Kenver sought counsel and made offerings at Endelyn’s house almost daily.

  My warning about over indulgence and preserving our food supplies seemed to have had an effect on Tallack. There were no feasts nor wanton ale binges about the island at all. He ordered the wooden panels fixed across the doors of the Long Hut and conducted private discussions with the elders and his mother in his own round house. It irked me that Treeve was present for all such talks, where I was not invited, but at least I was able to grieve in my own way without bumping into Kenver too often.

  Several times during that quarter moon, I caught Tallack on his way to his mother’s or Endelyn’s hut and asked him when he would send word to the Duros about the tin exchange for Ren and Massen. Every time, he avoided a direct answer. It was either, soon, or not long now, or after we have buried my brother, but never today. I was starting to think that he would not keep his promise.

  On the seventh day after Kenver’s arrival, I went back to my hut after a day of foraging to find Kewri bundling his bedding furs up with his knife and pipe.

  “Moving out?” I said with more than a hint of glibness.

  “One of the warriors came back from the forest near the River Teign. They have four wolves trapped in a pit. The rest of the pack were too wary to climb in after them and fled.” His manner surprised me. Kewri was not one to glorify violence or revel in blood spilled. Perhaps his loyalty to the tribe was stronger than I thought. He was almost eager to see the end of Brea, although her actions had not affected him personally.

  “You’re heading out there then?” I had no idea where he and I stood. He was neither my slave, nor a clan member. His actions were borne out of a combination of Tallack’s orders and my requests. I could no more forbid him from leaving than any other elder in the tribe.

  He stopped packing and peered down at me. “I thought we were all going. Wasn’t that Cryda’s decision, to watch that kyjyan, Brea die and then walk on to the cromlech to bury the Chieftains?” He was right of course, but I hadn’t envisioned the whole tribe turning out for the occasion. Our family were so few in number we needed the support of the warriors, elders and their families to ensure a decent funerary send off for
Aebba and Blydh. I nodded at him, disappointed that the trip to the wolf pit would take precedence over releasing Ren and Massen. Nothing I could say to my nephew or Cryda would put their safety above the rites of two fallen Chiefs.

  After my nightly fretting about the captives, I fell asleep on the opposite side of my round house to the giant. The entire compound was hushed but for the odd howl from Endelyn’s pup. Kewri woke early and prepared our horses, eager to be on the track at dawn. I hurried along the boardwalks to see Brea. She was shivering from the nip in the air and covered in filth. Initially, she pretended not to see me, turning her head away from where I stood and scratching at the lice in her knotted hair.

  Although I could hear the men tramping down the boardwalk to collect her, I didn’t move. Eventually, she turned to face me.

  “What do you want from me, Meliora?” Her spite made my spine prickle.

  “You know, it might make a difference if you apologised to Tallack. He has the authority to spare your life.”

  She almost exploded with laughter; her own brand of desperation. “That spineless rat would never defy his mother. Besides, I’m not sorry for killing that animal; he got exactly what he deserved. You’re wasting your time, Fur Benyn. Leave me to my misery.” She practically spat my name; such was her anger.

  As the men led her away, I thought that she was going to get exactly what she deserved too. I can’t condone how Aebba treated her, but to bed his son before the body was cold and go on to lay blame at another’s door, was beyond calculated. At least I tried to reason with her, give her a chance to show remorse. Whatever her fate would be, my conscience was clear.

  By mid-morning, many had gathered for the long procession to the pit. Kewri was itching to ride ahead, but Tallack was insistent that we all travelled together as one long unit. Cryda and Endelyn both sat on the Chieftain wagon. Baby Delen and her slave travelled in the back with Blydh’s preserved body and the pot of Aebba’s bones. Both sets of remains were packed with fragrant meadow flowers and surrounded by their possessions and gifts to the gods to pay their passage into the Summerlands.