by Sam Taw
I cut some salted pork and cheese into two bowls and kneaded some butter and ale into flour for more bread. As I slapped the flat dough onto a hot stone, Aebba skipped and slid down the tor rocks to the fireside.
“There… I see them. Over there.”
I stood up and squinted towards a neighbouring ridge in the distance. Smoke trailed up into the sky. “How do you know it’s them?” I cuffed the flour from my nose and sat back down.
“Who else is it likely to be? Of course it’s them.” His jubilance was a welcome change from the grunting and stomping moods from earlier in the day. He sat on a rock near the fire and swiped a slice of beef from a bowl. I gave him a scowl but he ignored me.
“Let’s wait until it’s dark and creep closer on the ponies. They’ll never know we’re there, and I can check that all is well.”
“I thought the whole point of this challenge was to let them fend for themselves? You know, no interference. They won’t thank you for it. Better to stay put. They’ll holler if they need us.” I turned the dough over, it sizzled on the heated rock.
Aebba puffed out his chest, narrowing his eyes. There was absolutely no arguing with him. How Cryda puts up with him I’ll never know
“We’ll go after we’ve eaten. You can ride the cart horse.” He said, hopping up from his boulder to see to the ponies.
I could see a dozen reasons why it was such a bad decision, but I kept them all to myself. What did he care if I had to sit upon a massive cart horse that is unused to being ridden? He wouldn’t bat an eyelid at having to start a fire from scratch when we returned late into the night, rather than let it burn unattended. What did it matter that his old aunt had slept less than a quarter of the night thanks to his snoring?
If I ever get back to our compound on the River Exe, I am going to train someone young and clever to take over these exhausting trials. That’s if I can find anyone in camp with half a brain and a little compassion. Both qualities seem to be in steep decline these days. Resigned to another sleepless night, I ate my food and collected my medicine bag, tucking my knife wrap inside. With the strap slung across my body, I mounted the cart horse from the top of a jagged rock. He whinnied and fussed for a few moments, adjusting to my weight, but with a few calming words and plenty of pats and strokes, he seemed to accept my commands.
Our descent into the valley was lit by the final rays of sunlight as it disappeared behind the ridge where the young warriors were. Aebba led the way, his sure-footed black stallion naturally avoided the boggier areas of our trail until the moon was high enough to lend its support.
The glow of their fire in the distance was joined by a second light soon after. If they had lit two fires, from where were they getting the fuel? The moor has few trees, and those that do survive yield little firewood. What would be the purpose of two? I thought this odd, but kept it to myself. Aebba was in enough haste to reach their camp, if I pointed out strange sightings he would gallop to their rescue and risk us both falling into a bottomless mire, horses and all.
I had no idea that the moors had so many rivers. They snaked and crossed our track several times, making the going slow and cumbersome. The lowland area marshes and swamps rattled the horses, as they struggled to free their hooves from the suction effect. Steep inclines and scree slopes made them reluctant to go on as they slipped and slid over the sharp gravel.
Drawing closer to the warriors’ camp, the double fires suddenly made sense. The three boys held flaming branches at waist height, waving them in sweeping motions to ward off the pack of wolves snapping at their heels. Paega was almost standing on top of one of the fires, waving his flaming branch in frenzied jabs. It did not deter the wolves.
Aebba’s sight is remarkably poor, considering he is a good number of summers younger than me. His reaction when he saw his sons in trouble was to kick his stallion into a gallop.
“You can’t help them! Turn back, Nephew, or the quest will be spoiled!” He was quite a distance from me when he pulled up on the reins and slowed his horse. Encouraging my pony to catch up with him, I thought carefully about how to justify my statement.
“They have to show their capabilities. This is a good test of their wits, Aebba. I have faith that they will prevail.”
His nostrils flared with temper and anxiety; his breathing laboured.
I lowered my voice and tone. “Give them time to overcome this obstacle. If all else fails, we are close enough to ride in and help them.” Leaning from my horse, I reached out to touch his arm. “Let’s get to the ridge top and wait behind the stone stacks.” With reluctance, he nodded his agreement, following me to a sheltered spot within sight of their camp.
There were more than a dozen wolves, strong, well-fed beasts, positioned in a circle around them. Tallack and Blydh were close to each other, and working in unison to force the pack backwards. Snarling and snapping, the largest wolf lunged at Paega, who leapt the fire at his back and ran for his horse. He ran towards a boulder, jumping up and propelling himself onto the back of his pony, before grabbing the reins and bolting from camp. He disappeared into the darkness with two wolves in close pursuit.
Aebba closed his eyes and shook his bowed head. Blydh and Tallack put their heads together, conferring over what they should do. Within moments, Tallack took hold of Blydh’s branch, waving both at the encroaching wolves and clearing a path for his brother to grab their weapons from a shelter. With his brother protecting his back from attack, Blydh knocked an arrow in his bow, selected the largest, most troublesome wolf and let it loose.
The bolt smashed into the creature’s side with a thud. The yelp was loud enough to halt every other wolf in the group, until the large brute resumed its snarling and forward motion with even greater ferocity. An angry pack leader is a dangerous one. Lesser wolves sneaked around to the side of Blydh, trying to pick him off before Tallack could waft the flames in their direction.
Blydh knocked another arrow and drew the string back, glaring at the wall-eyed canine. I held my breath, praying to Cernonnus that his aim be true. As the wolf pounced, Blydh let the arrow fly. It found its target right between its yellow eyes. Dead in an instant, the beast came crashing down on the ground, its limbs crumpling beneath the weight of flesh and fur. Blydh grabbed another arrow, and aimed at the next wolf creeping closer with snapping fangs.
The lesser wolves saw the impact of Blydh’s weapons and edged backwards. Only one refused to acknowledge defeat. Blydh was not about to wait for it to change its mind. The creature was so close, Blydh had no need for a precise aim. He pulled back the cord and let the bronze tip rip open the wolf’s face, entering through its open maw and almost taking off its head. That was all it took to deter the rest. Slinking back into the night, the twins were left with a mass of meat and two fresh pelts for their collection.
Aebba turned to me with a beaming smile, letting out a breath that had stagnated inside his lungs. “They did well.” His face flushed with relief. “You were right to let them be.” It was big of him to admit that, but we were alone in the middle of the moors with no one to hear his admission.
He scratched at his beard, contemplating all that had happened. “They work well together, don’t they?”
It was a fairly obvious observation, but I sensed he needed to share the experience.
“More so than most, being twins.” I smiled. “I suspect they have a few unspoken shortcuts, being so alike.”
He nodded. “I think I will have Blydh made head of the Hunter Clan. He thinks fast in combat situations.”
“He does.”
“And Tallack would make a great sailor. I can see him being an asset in discussing trade agreements with those awkward Frynkish Tribes across the sea.”
“You would separate them in different clans?” We urged the horses to begin the descent from the ridge.
“They can’t both lead the same clan. They are more use to me leading two important groups of our tribe. Each of them can earn the respect of our warriors and grow
tribal reputation and wealth.”
“And what of Paega?” I asked, almost afraid of his answer.
“What indeed.” His tone altered to cold and disappointed. How frustrating and shameful it must be to have an eldest son like Paega.
“Will you send him to lead the Alchemists down at the tin mines?”
Aebba scoffed so vociferously, spittle flew from his mouth. “And have him steal and barter the tin out from under our noses. His mother, and that despicable grandfather of his, would be down there like kawgh in a piss pot to take control. No fear, those tin seams are for the benefit of our entire tribe, the root of our power and bargaining position. I would rather trust the Duros.”
It would have been funny had it not been so true. Control of the tin supply is never far from Eseld’s mind, and she only ever reflects the wishes of her father and the Priest Sect. They must brainwash every babe born into that clan. I’ve yet to meet one born that I can tolerate. Their new faith and rituals seem to be all for show to fool and dominate the feeble minded.
Our horses seemed more comfortable trudging through the darkness than us. I feared that at any moment, one false step would send us tumbling into a quagmire, and our potential deaths. Clouds shaded what little light the moon afforded us, making it hard to distinguish between solid ground and bog. Aebba was much relieved to know that the boys were coping on their own, and was in a hurry to get back to our camp.
All I could think about was how cold the ashes of our fire would be, and that our supplies of wood were low. Cold ale and a great many furs were all we had ahead of us. Had it been daytime, I would have used the trip to collect heathland mosses and some wood sorrel. On we trekked through the night, stopping only a short time for the ponies to drink from the streams and to fill our water bladders at the lowest part of the valley.
The horses were not keen on the steeper incline of this side of the tor. It took a fair few heel jabs in their flanks to urge them to the top. Aebba went first, picking through the loose soils and jagged rocks to the plateau under the granite stone stacks. As I predicted, the fire had almost burned out. I dismounted the cart horse and tied his reins and then clambered up to the shelter. The materials forming the door flap moved. Something, or someone was inside.
CHAPTER FIVE
Creeping closer on the rocks, I slipped my hand through the gap in the shelter and pulled the fabric aside. My heart thumped so hard it deafened me.
“Paega! You frightened me half to death, boy.” I breathed hard, trying to calm my pulse.
Aebba heard me yell. “What in the name of Cernonnus are you doing here? You should be with your brothers.” Aebba stomped over to the shelter fuming with indignation.
Paega scooted forwards on his arse until he could step out of my bedding. “I came to fetch help, Father. A wolf pack…”
“I know all about the wolves, child. Your brothers saw them off, killing two great beasts in the process no thanks to you.” The Metern turned on his heels and began building the fire up with kindling and dry moss. He could not meet his son’s eyes.
“But how do you…?”
“Where do you think we have been this night, Paega, hmm?” I poured two cups of ale and handed one to the Chief. “We saw the whole thing play out.”
The young warrior glanced down at the embers as his father fanned them back into life with a short plank from the cart.
Aebba peered up at Paega. “You could have built the fire when you got here instead of cowering inside the tent like a girl. Even your sisters have more courage than you, boy.” He tutted and then blew air across his teeth. “Well don’t just stand there, get your horse and ride back or Tallack and Blydh will leave you for dust come dawn. The only way you can redeem yourself is to find the herd and bring a pelt back to the tribe.”
Paega scurried away from his father as if his arse was aflame. He wasn’t even out of earshot before Aebba began his grumbling. “Hard to believe he has any of our family’s blood in him at all.”
I always had my suspicions regarding Paega’s parentage but absolutely no proof. We only have Eseld’s word that Aebba was the father but when first she fell heavy with child, rumours were rife about camp that she was a little too affectionate towards her cousin from the Priest Sect. Aebba must have heard the same gossip, as shortly after announcing the impending birth, Aebba sent the entire sect away from the Chieftain compound to roam the moors and borderlands. It would certainly explain why the boy had none of Aebba’s qualities.
I was cold and miserable and the mist was rolling in again. Leaving Aebba at the fireside, I tried to get some rest before he turned in for the night, when his snoring would disturb my slumber.
***
For once, I slept soundly with no disruption at all. I yawned, stretched and emerged from the shelter to find Aebba cooking at a roaring fire. Thinking that I must be dreaming, I rubbed at my eyes to clear my sight. “What’s all this? Has Cernonnus come for me in the night thinking me a great warrior and I am in the Summerlands with the gods, or did I bash my head and this is all a vision from my addled brain?” I couldn’t stop the huge grin from spreading across my face.
Aebba rolled his eyes and pursed his lips at my banter. “I know that my snuffling keeps you awake so I dozed out here by the fire. My thoughts stopped me from sleeping anyway.” He passed me some fried pork and eggs in a bowl. I could tell that Paega’s actions left him in a tricky spot. The boy was a full cycle older than the twins. In theory, he should be the only choice to succeed Aebba to the position of tribal Metern.
“You don’t know how to place Paega, even if he does have a fruitful auroch hunt.” I said, summarising his anxiety into a single neat quandary. “He can’t lead the head hunters, they will never respect someone who runs away from a wolf pack. You can’t give him control of our boats and trade routes, for fear that he will cheat the tribe or sink them with his stupidity, and you dare not give him rule over the mines. It seems to me that there is only one option left.”
Aebba frowned at me.
“He must go back to the wandering priests.”
Aebba finished his mouthful, shaking his head. “Eseld will never approve that. She expects him to be right next to me the day I fall from my top table bench. She’ll shove him into my seat before it has time to cool.”
He was right of course, Eseld had high hopes for the boy, ensuring her own rise in status on the day of his ascension. We munched on delicious meats and the rest of the evening’s bread and pondered over his fate.
“You could always make up a title for him at the compound, something with responsibility that he can’t mess up.” I offered, taking his bowl and rinsing it with the last of our water from the jugs.
“Such as?”
“Let him oversee the clan tributes. There’s nothing he could do to mess those up.”
“Hmm, he could still take some for himself or for his mother, and they are tied up with the trades from our tin.”
“He can help himself to your tin now, as can Eseld. Your warriors are petrified of her. They think she can summon wicked demons to curse them in this life and in the next. You could put the entire Hunter Clan on guard over our hidden troves and they would still let Eseld through.”
His eyes widened at my revelation. “I didn’t realise that she held such power over them. They surely don’t believe all her silly rituals and invocations?”
“Chants and spells, no, probably not, but she has the power to select victims for sacrifice and we all know how good she is at coming up with reasons to kill people.”
There was no denying that his second wife had a gory streak in her like no other. Anyone who had the audacity to refuse, snub, belittle or argue with her, soon found one of their loved ones marked for sacrifice. She had a long list of overused reasons for paying tribute to the gods, it rained too much, or too little, the winter was too cold, or too mild, the harvest was less than the previous cycle, or more abundant, in short, she needed no excuse to slice throats.
Aebba walked the horses down to the river and refilled the water jugs, while I collected dry branches and brushwood for the fire. I found a few bilberry bushes and gathered all I could find, risking my tunic with purple stains as I held them in the upturned fabric. Aebba beat me back to the top of the ridge, where the mist had burned off with the heat from the rising sun.
Facing south, Aebba looked out over the valley, smiling. With the berries safely stowed away for later, I joined him on the rock stack where he stood.
“Can you see what I see?” He beamed.
Squinting into the distance, I saw black smudges against the dry tufts of the long grass. I wasn’t sure, so I waited for him to fill in the details.
“The aurochs are heading this way.” He did a giddy jig, scampering back to our belongings to pack them away.
“What are you doing?”
“Clearing everything up so that we can move closer, I want to be there for the kill.”
“Haven’t we already been over this? You cannot interfere in their challenge. If you get too close, you won’t be able to stop yourself from getting involved, which will render the quest ruined. Besides, you won’t see anything from down there. Just look at all those smaller ridges to block clear sight. You are far better to stay up here. You’ll get a bird’s eye view of the entire hunt.”
He was wearing his petulant expression. I remembered it from when he was a child. Aebba has never liked being shown the error of his ways.
He dropped a bed roll of furs on the ground and sighed. “Don’t you ever get sick and tired of being right all the time?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t.”
The glare he threw in my direction could shrivel fruit. He slumped down on a boulder and kicked out at the logs edging the fire.
“I’ll stew some of the bilberries with a bit of honey. That should sweeten your sour face.” I was pushing my luck, I know, but his sulky behaviour was almost as bad as Paega’s. Perhaps they were father and son after all. This familiarity and sarcasm was only possible while we were alone. I wouldn’t dream of undermining his authority in front of anyone else. It was just that at times like these, he’d revert to the child I cared for when he was young. Sometimes I wondered if he designed these trips so that he could leave the responsibilities and pressure of being the Metern behind for a few days.
