Pagan Rage

by Sam Taw

  Brea was bound at the wrists, with the remaining length of rope attached to the back of the wagon. Every few moments she was tugged forwards, forcing her to run or be dragged along the track on her face. She had a prime view of the bodies, and plenty of time to reflect on her mistakes, but I doubt she used the time wisely. She will meet Cernonnus in the Underworld, where she will pay for her actions. There will be no offerings for this mountain girl and no grave. What the wolves can’t eat, the worms will.

  I rode behind the wagon and Brea, next to Kewri on his massive cart horse. The Sea Warriors trotted up front with Tallack and Treeve, leading the way, while the Head Hunters and Kenver followed the elders and their families at the rear. Some had horses, others walked, making our journey tedious and slow.

  Senara was sat astride the same pony I had taken from Tallack before sending her out on her first scouting trip. It seemed forever ago, and yet he’d not noticed the horse missing once. She trotted alongside the Chieftain wagon, staying close to the priestess. Thank Cernonnus they had left that unruly pup behind with a few Sea Warriors and the slaves. I could imagine the boisterous creature taking a bite out of Blydh before we could lay him to rest.

  It was not far to the forest along the River Teign from the island on the Exe. Even with our least nimble elders on foot, it was less than a quarter day’s walk. The warrior who had delivered the news of the wolf pack led us straight to the pit.

  I could see that they had followed my instructions precisely. They’d used their common sense to dig a sheer-sided hole into the soft clay of the river bank, avoiding the troublesome roots and stones of the forest just a short distance away. The sodden earth was piled high in a great ridge next to the river.

  Their ropes and tools were packed up at their campsite, their ponies readied for the next leg of the journey. I slid down from my horse and handed the reins to Kewri so that I could lean over and peer into the hole. A short pole stuck up in the centre with a chewed tether and the remains of the sacrificial goat.

  As soon as the wolves heard us, they sniffed the air and growled. One was much larger than the others. I assumed it was their pack leader. When more people crowded around the edges of the pit, they bared their teeth and snarled, backing away into the furthest corner from us. Endelyn and Cryda parted the crowd and stood in a prominent position.

  Cryda jogged the babe in her arms, too close to the edge for my comfort. “Yes, this will do well. I am pleased. They should be good and hungry by now.” And to Endelyn she said. “Will you speak to the gods on our behalf? I should like them to take this vile wretch as an offering. They will be receiving my husband and son into their embrace shortly after.”

  The priestess nodded. What was happening? A few days sharing a hut and now they were best friends? Had Endelyn tamed the former Ruvane into compliance while we negotiated with the Duros, or was pity Cryda’s main motive for befriending this wild thing from the Nine Maidens stone circle?

  Tallack moved the masses back to a respectable distance and gestured for the men to lead Brea closer. Her wrists were raw and chaffed, her arms and legs burned by the sun. Her ripped tunic was soiled with her own piss and kawgh. She was hardly recognisable as the same person.

  She chose this very moment to appeal to Tallack, using their once close relationship as a needle to stab at his good nature.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Can’t you see that I was just defending myself?” Brea began. “All I ever wanted was to be accepted by your family, not treated like a slave from the Ordoviches’ mountains.”

  One of the warriors offered to cut her ties, but Tallack shook his head, turning the pathetic woman around to face the hole in the ground. The wolves snarled louder. My nephew pushed her harder, until Brea was balancing bare foot on the edge.

  “Please, Tallack, I beg of you. It’s not too late for me to make amends. We had fun once, you and I, didn’t we? We can do that again.” Her pleading was more insistent the nearer to death she stepped. Tallack stopped pushing and looked away. He was finding it difficult to carry out the sentence on someone for whom he once had feelings. His soft heart would not win favours with the Head Hunter Clan. He needed to be decisive and strong to gain their respect.

  Cryda lost patience with him. She shoved Endelyn out of her way and stood next to Tallack and Brea. “Say your words, Priestess. Let’s not waste any more time listening to the lies of this deceitful bitch.” Before Tallack could step away and let the women take over, Cryda reached to his belt and took his blade.

  I thought that she would cut the ropes binding Brea’s wrist to give her a fighting chance against the wolves. Instead, she slashed the knife across Brea’s upper arm and then across the other. Both were shallow flesh wounds but they trickled blood down her torn tunic. Brea flinched. The wolves sniffed the air again, huffing to each other that their supper was being served.

  Endelyn tipped back her head and raised her palms to the air, her eyes rolling in their sockets. “Cernonnus, God of Death and All Things Wild, we commend to thee an offering of the highest order. Take her temper, take her spirit, take her blackened heart and do as you will with her. Temptress, betrayer, murderer, and liar, we cast her into the pit so that you may carry her into the Underworld. There to submit to a fiery torment for all time.” Endelyn nodded to Cryda.

  The former Ruvane glowered, smiling. Relishing every moment of Brea’s distress, she extended two fingers and pushed her in the chest. Brea toppled on the edge, her cinched wrists jerking about trying to balance, her eyes wide with fear. She landed flat on her back, knocking the air out of her. The cracking noise told me that one or two bones were broken. Gasping, she struggled to her knees, coming face to face with the drooling maws of the four wolves. Their growls grew louder, more urgent. The largest one snapping its jaws close to her neck.

  Brea screamed, waving her arms about in an attempt to scare them away, but they had smelt her blood and were starving. For a few moments, Brea clung to the belief that she could fight them, until the wolf on her left took a bite out of her side. She screeched in agony, the ragged strips of skin and rib jutting from her middle. There was nowhere for her to run, nowhere to hide. As she glanced up and caught my eye, I saw her defiance turn into resignation.

  The pack leader lunged, securing its fangs over her nose and chin before ripping it from her bones. A second wolf went for the belly, tearing the soft flesh and spilling her entrails over her lap. When they finally chewed at her throat, I knew that her end had come. Her only movements were from creatures as they tugged at her bones.

  Endelyn continued her babbling and god’s speech while the tribe looked on. I’d seen more than enough and turned away, but I could still hear the yelps and bickering as the wolves fought over the tastiest parts. Cryda’s expression remained the same throughout. If anything, her smile broadened a little more to see the animals ingesting her foe.

  I stood by the horses, waiting for Tallack to call an end to the show. It wasn’t long before Kenver joined me. He was already numbed by death. Neither of us spoke, for what was there left to say? The ponies were deeply unsettled by the noise from the pit. I had to call for Kewri’s help to stop the cart horses from bolting, taking the bodies of my kin with them. Endelyn’s chanting stopped, the elders and warriors stepped back from the edge, and Cryda’s smile faded.

  Tallack returned the dagger to his belt. “My father is avenged; we can now lay him to rest in peace.” He gave orders for the warriors who had dug the pit to stay behind. They were to replace the planking in the hole when everyone had left, allowing the wolves to climb out. When all that remained were bones, Tallack asked the men to fill the pit, preventing further dark spirits escaping from the underworld. I thought that a most sensible precaution.

  Before setting off for the burial site, most ate the provisions they’d brought along. I gave mine to Kewri. After witnessing such carnage, my appetite had completely gone. While I ruminated over the tragic loss of lives, Cryda skipped around with such a
lightness of step and happy countenance, it was hard to believe that she was about to bury her husband and child. Her focus was entirely on seeking revenge, she’d forgotten to grieve. Perhaps that would come in the fullness of time.

  The sun was already past the midpoint in the sky when we set off along the Teign Valley, following the course of the river heading west. As the crow flies, it was no distance at all, but our path was heavily wooded and the trail overgrown. Without the savvy guidance and navigation skills of Ren to help us, Tallack chose to stick closely to the winding river. It was slow going with the wagon, and some of the more elderly in our group struggled with tiredness.

  Senara was the first to give up her horse to another, helping the old man up on to the pony’s back and walking alongside with the reins. Others saw her gracious act and copied her, lifting the ailing or injured on to warriors’ steeds and leading them in turn. Kewri offered up his massive cart horse, but its sheer size and strength put them off accepting. Little did they know that the creature was as gentle and placid as his rider.

  We fell back into roughly the same order as before, with Tallack and Treeve up front and the Head Hunters trailing behind. Kenver caught up and trotted next to me. Our conversation was stilted for a long time, which was to be expected given all he had discovered over the past few days. I began to get used to his silence, almost reassured by the absence of idle chatter. The trail seemed to have its own sort of bumpy rhythm, lulling me into a trance.

  “Who prepared my daughter’s body for the pyre?”

  The question shocked me from my musings. I stammered, unsure what to say. “Um, I don’t know. I’m sure that she was treated with respect.” The memory of seeing Treeve lugging her lifeless body under the gully at the eastern side of our palisade walls and across the marshlands crowded out all other thoughts.

  “Could you at least tell me what killed her? Was it an arrow, a spear, was she fighting another warrior, what?”

  My throat tightened; I couldn’t swallow. He watched as my face flushed hot. I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Kenver. I know little of how it happened.” Which was the truth. I could not with confidence lay the blame at anyone’s feet. All I knew for sure was that Tallack ordered Treeve to dispose of the body. That much he’d confessed.

  “Then can you tell me who would know? I should like to speak with them. Her mother will need the details before she is likely to accept her death.”

  I squirmed, trying not to let my discomfort show. “There were many lives lost that day. Brea planned the raid, the leader of the Duros led the attack and lost his fight in the process. Too many of our young folk were sent to sit with the gods. Each and every one of them, were washed and placed with care on the pyre. Tallack insisted on offering sacrifices for them all.” My words were truthful and honest, despite leaving out the part where Kerensa was not actually laid on the funeral fire.

  He opened his mouth to speak again, but I interrupted. “If you’ll pardon me, I have urgent need to speak with my nephew.” What else could I do, but kick my horse into a canter and overtake the cart until I could squeeze between Treeve and Tallack on the trail. I knew it made me look suspicious, but I was never adept at lying. Any more time spent with the grieving Alchemist and I would have cracked.

  Treeve always made it difficult to speak with Tallack alone. That excuse for a warrior pushed his way into our family business all the while. If my nephew hadn’t invited him into his bed, the lad would still be manning the fishing boats. I did all I could to warn him that Kenver was asking awkward questions but he had more pressing concerns on his mind.

  “Not now, Aunt Mel.” He flicked his head towards the tor cresting the valley on our right. “See up there.”

  I looked for a good long while, leaving my horse to steer while I was distracted. The ridge at the top of the steep incline was bare of trees. There was a rocky outcrop near to the highest point that looked like a giant bigger than Kewri had spent many summers stacking the stones. “What am I looking for?” I muttered, glancing in long sweeps to the north. A shadow flickered between two jagged scree slopes, but I paid it no heed.

  “Look again.” Tallack grumbled. Training my sight on the spot where the dark area moved, I thought I could make out the shape of a man. The more I stared, the more convinced I was that we had a scout on our tail. Before long, it moved into view; a scuttling rake of a man, all bone and sinew, dashing between the bumps in the ridge. My mouth fell open.

  “Paega.” Tallack said, letting out a noisy breath. “Slimy kyjyan has kept pace with us since the wolf pit.”

  My mind reeled. I thought I’d seen the last of my nephew after he gave Kewri the slip that fateful day. Why would he stick around on the borders of the moors? He could have run to any region in the land and started afresh where he was unknown. There was nothing left for him in our tribe. Was he, perhaps trying to find his scattered Priest Sect to reassert his power over our family? I dismissed the notion immediately. Even if he could gather them all together, they were no match for the Sea Warriors and Head Hunters combined.

  “Do you think he wants to earn your pardon?”

  Tallack blew out his lips. “Not him. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

  I let the matter rest for some time, until the pressure to speak got the better of me. “As soon as we are finished here, can we take the tin to the Duros and get Ren released?”

  My nephew peered at me from the corner of his eye and grinned. “Yes, Aunt Mel. I gave you my word. Ren will come home to you.”

  What did he mean by that? Of course, we needed our best warriors back, but they’d be coming home to us all, not me specifically.

  We walked on for the rest of the day until the trees blotted out the last rays of the sun, but my thoughts wouldn’t settle. One moment I sweated over Ren and Massen, the next I fretted about Kenver. As soon as I had a handle on those problems, the memory of the skinny waif following our path slipped into my head. I was too old to cope with such worry. What I needed more than anything was rest, but I was unlikely to get that for some time.

  Stopping where the Teign diverges, we watered the horses and discussed our options. We were in a clearing of pasture, with the wooded vale at our backs and the gentle slope up to the Drewsteign burial chamber. Cryda and Tallack wanted to push on past dusk, but the elders and their families were exhausted. They were not accustomed to travelling and groaned about the lack of comforts they were used to in the compound.

  I was concerned that we were in an exposed position. What if Paega was scouting for a larger crowd of Priest Warriors, waiting for an opportune moment to attack us while we were most vulnerable? I said as much to my nephew, meaning to keep my voice low, but one of the elders heard me. Before long, the whole long line of us was buzzing with the news. That put paid to any thoughts about making camp in the clearing.

  On we went, tramping up the hill to the flattened pasture at the top. The long and narrow mound of turf was just visible as we crested, more so when the moon rose and cast its shadow across the valley. The excitement and elation of Brea’s death still bubbled among the young. Those of us who were longer in the tooth, remembered what lay beneath the mound. There would be a great deal of hard work come the dawn.

  Every able body among us would be required to dig out the earth from the stone structure inside. At the heart of the mound, were three upright tall stones, capped with another huge rock of monumental proportions. If we were lucky, we would find the gap between the entrance stones and form a tunnel into the burial chamber inside. There lay the bones of our Chieftains of old, from long before my grandfather’s time.

  Trust Cryda to ask for a funerary ritual that was long since passed remembering. My brother, Cador the Cruel, and our father before him, earned their places in the barrows at Stonehenge. It was where we left Aebba’s skull, allowing him to enter the portal to the Summerlands as soon as Brea died. Having his long bones on our hallowed ground, gave him the ability to roam far and wide. Aebba could w
atch over his people, or commune with the gods and other Chieftains at the henge.

  I was unsure of the destination of Blydh’s journey. None of us spoke about it, but I dare say others were thinking the same thing as me. He did not die in battle, nor was it an honourable death. By rights, he should be on his way to the Underworld, but Tallack was sure that we lost Blydh the moment the golden sun disc was slotted under his scalp. We can but hope that he will be accepted alongside his father, but then Aebba was in a similar position. A once great warrior felled by his own wife’s hand. Despite this, his acceptance into the Summerlands was assured by the highest priest at the midsummer gathering.

  The fires were small, the meals tiny and unsatisfying, but enough to stop our bellies groaning. On the exposed hill top, we all huddled for warmth with those whom we knew the best. I slept next to Endelyn on one side of me and Cryda and Delen on the other. I noticed that when most people were drifting off to sleep, Senara burrowed under Endelyn’s furs. I’m making no judgement, but I’ve a feeling that the priestess might be the reason why Kewri will go on being spurned by Senara. At least both she and Endelyn are safe and relatively happy.

  Barring the night watchmen, the only person who did not bunk down around the fires was Kenver. I could see him in the cold light of the moon, staring up at the sky. His breath billowed into mist with every sigh.

  Come dawn, we all rose and shared a watery porridge, warmed through over the dying embers. Tallack organised teams of warriors, some to dig, others to hunt, more to collect wood for the fires, and to build a temporary shelter for his mother and sister. I wandered back down the slope, picking, gathering and snacking on what edible offerings the landscape had to give. Kewri kept me company, although he’d lost his jubilant attitude at seeing Brea ripped asunder. The return to being the quiet and plodding giant was heartening. It was almost like being back at home among the wild flowers and willow bark shavings, if it wasn’t for the dangers involved in opening a burial chamber.