Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5), Sam Taw [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

exchange. She huffed and puffed at his rudeness before launching herself onto the patient’s bunk in a sulk. There was so much for her to learn. If she couldn’t make amends with easy going Kewri, then it would be impossible for her to win over the rest of the tribe.

Yet another humid night prevented restful sleep. Every move I made seemed to make me feel worse. Coupled with the anxiety of not knowing how close the fire was plus the soft whimpers of my homesick apprentice, I was wrung out by dawn. I used the piss pot and wandered outside as the sun crept over the horizon. Its orange glow blended with the smoke high in the air until the smell was all but a trace in the breeze.

From across the island, I could hear Tallack’s little sister crying out. Knowing that his mother, Cryda would be wide awake and exhausted, I decided to pay her a visit. Cryda was pacing about the rushes, carrying a squawking Delen about in her arms when I arrived. One look of desperation cast in my direction was all it took for me to step up and take the babe from her. She’s a dear little thing, but not a good sleeper. Cryda took the opportunity to throw herself down on her bunk and close her eyes. I needed her to stay awake.

I lifted Delen up until she was laying close to my shoulder and almost upright. Within moments, she calmed, her bawling ceased.

“Why can I never get her to do that? She hates me.”

I chuckled. “She can feel your angst. The more tired and desperate you get, the more she wails. You just need a rest.” I sat down and kept my upper body swaying to soothe her.

In a matter of moments, Cryda sat up and peered towards the thatch above. “Oh, blissful silence, my old friend.” As she cast her sight back to me, she noticed my red and swollen eyes. “What’s wrong, Meliora. Who has upset you?”

I swallowed hard. Just thinking about my exchange with the Chief brought a lump in my throat. “Tallack and I have fallen out.”

She stared at me with waspish eyes. “I shouldn’t worry about it, you know you’re his favourite, just like his father before him. It’ll pass.”

I shook my head. “Not this time, I fear.”

“What did you fall out over?”

I couldn’t see any harm in telling her. She would see the situation the same way that I did. “I only mentioned that it was worth considering the Duro offer of binding with the Chief’s daughter. He snapped my head off.”

She sucked in her lips and nodded. I knew that she’d understand. She too was of Chieftain blood and knew the responsibilities that accompanied the title. In her case, she was lucky that Aebba adored her and pursued an alliance with the Cantii in order to wed her. Other tribal daughters often don’t have that luxury.

“I’ll have a word with him. He can’t fall out with his own mother or the goddess will never favour him again.”

It comforted me to know that she shared the same mind as I over this issue. Despite Tallack’s current preference for his crewman, he would need to declare a first wife and Ruvane of our tribe at some point. It made sense that the Ruvane should be chosen carefully to benefit our trade links and alliances.

I stayed for a while, chatting over the events at the cromlech and how badly Treeve had handled the whole matter with Kenver of the Alchemists. There too, she agreed with me, but she made no offer to include it in her discussion with her son. Cryda was only brave to a point and no further. When her slave returned from washing their clothes at the river, I passed the sleeping child into her arms and said my farewells.

Taking the long route home, I walked beside the eastern palisade walls and stopped to watch the pigs snuffling in the wooded area behind the Hunter’s tents. From there, I skirted the Long Hut roasting pits. As I turned the corner, I could see the grain store guard struggling to separate two weaver women from a large man carrying a sack.

The women were kicking his shins and scratching his arms, trying to snatch the bag from him. The guard tried to remove the women, but they clung tighter than a limpet. By the time I got to them, one of the ladies had jumped on the man’s back and was throttling him from behind. His eyes bulged as he gasped for breath. The other bit the guard’s arm while he grappled her around the middle.

“Hey, hey! What’s all this?” I yelled. The woman riding the strangled man recognised me and released her grip. She slid down from his back and hung her head in shame. The guard let go of the second woman who stood before me, hands on hips in defiance.

“That stinking greedy kyjyan has taken the last of the grain.” She screamed, although we were all close enough to hear her without the vitriol.

I looked at the man. “Chief Tallack’s orders. Got to malt the last of the barley for ale. He’s almost out.”

I turned my gaze to the furious women.

“We’ve not had our ration this quarter moon and our children are starving.” Now I could see why they were fighting. The poor man was covered in angry red welts from their scratches. He was only carrying out his Chief’s orders. It wasn’t his fault. Much to his surprise, I took the sack from him and handed it to the women. “Split this as best as you can. Make it last as there will be no more for a while.” They hurried away before the decision could be altered. The large man looked deeply perturbed.

Turning to him, I said; “Tell Chief Tallack that you went to the grain store but found it empty. If he questions you further, tell him that I was there as