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

a witness.” I gave the guard my sternest look until both nodded in agreement. “The empty bellies of children should always come before the ale of a Chief.” I can’t recall a time when petty squabbles such as this got out of hand. People were getting desperate, and it looked set to get much worse.

Glancing about the island, I could detect a subtle change in the atmosphere. Where once it was languid and purposeful, it was now fraught with worry; the furtive looks of envy whenever the elders’ wives displayed their metal jewellery, the children sent to pick every grain from the parched earth that was spilled from the store, the ravenous camp dogs snarling over the fragments of bone cast aside on the midden pile.

I spun about and aimed myself north towards home. Before I was half way along the boardwalk, I heard the horn of the watchmen blow. The gates swung open and the bridge lowered over the river. There stood a half hundred men, women and children, their belongings dragging behind them.

CHAPTER FIVE

There they stood, gaunt, sweating and exhausted from their journey. These were our homesteaders, driven in desperation to seek our help. There were no livestock, nor pets. Not even a horse among them. I could tell from their ragged clothes and lack of shoes that they had traded or eaten everything but their children.

The horn brought many out of their houses to see who was at our gates. Even Tallack was moved from his bunk to slip on his leggings and walk to the north side of the island to greet the visitors.

His long strides allowed him to reach them before I could. “Hail, friends, what brings you here?”

One of their menfolk responded. “Did you not see the smoke, Chief? The moors are on fire. Our homes, cattle, everything has gone. All we have is what you see.” He was holding it together for the sake of his family, but I could tell his level of distress from the tremble in his voice.

Tallack looked at them but said nothing. The shock of having so many displaced people at our gates threw him. The man waited patiently for an answer, an instruction, anything to reassure him that they would be welcomed with open arms. When none was forthcoming, the man grew desperate. “Chief, we have paid our tributes every season since my grandfather’s generation. You cannot fail us now.” He was right. It was the unspoken tribal law. In return for a portion of their harvests, our warriors did all they could to keep them safe. They heeded the call for new recruits, sending their most able children to us for training and induction into the clans. If Tallack failed to provide for them in their time of need, things would turn nasty.

“Of course, yes. I was just thinking about the best place for you to go.” He twisted on his heels, scratching his head until he spotted me. His mouth hung open; his eyes widened. He had no idea how to deal with such a problem. After his sharp tongue earlier in the day, I was tempted to let him flounder, but the homesteaders didn’t deserve that. They needed food and healing herbs to set them straight. One or two looked to be nursing burns on their hands and forearms, incurred no doubt when they tried to save their homes.

“Perhaps they could stay in the Long Hut for the time being, Chief, just until new huts can be built?”

“Yes, splendid idea. That’s where you should go.” He gave them his most charming smile and directed them to the centre of the island. Treeve took them inside and began dividing the space and stacking benches. Tallack approached me. I waited to see whether his mood had improved. I wasn’t about to forgive his outburst on the turn of one of his smiles.

“The Head Hunters should be back by now. I can’t imagine that they would find it difficult to hunt down a few boar or a couple of deer to keep us all going. I wonder what’s delayed them.”

I probably should have told him what I’d seen in the forest the day before, but I was still annoyed with him. If he can’t manage men such as Kitto, Tallack is in for a rough ride as Chieftain.

My silence surprised him. He frowned at my lack of interference. “Aunt Mel, how will I feed all these extra mouths?”

I shrugged. The lad had to learn. I wouldn’t be around forever to bail him out. It was churlish of me I know, but I walked away and left him to sort out his own mess. I sauntered back to my hut and began stringing up the few bunches of herbs from the foraging trip to dry. Vina had returned to her sullen uncooperative self. Perhaps it was too hot for hard labour, but this was easy light work and a chance to learn the plant names. It took some nagging, but eventually she shifted herself from the bunk to help.

With Vina occupied, I ferreted Kewri out from the shelter. He looked as wrung out as I felt. His hair was wet with sweat and stuck in cords to his forehead. I was reluctant to ask, but we needed food. “Kewri, can you go to the forest and see what you can find for supper? We are out of dried meat; the salt is down to a pinch or two and the grain store is completely empty.”

Credit where it’s due, the lad didn’t moan one bit. He collected the bow and arrows from my hut, secured his knife in his belt and walked to the pony enclosure to ready his carthorse. He was the one person in the whole world on whom I could rely. I thank the goddess every day for bringing him to our camp. Before settling to my work, I went to see that my goats had enough water and leaves to eat. When I