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

I watched as my nephew processed the information laid at his feet. It was a hard lesson for him, especially so soon after his twin’s death. He and Blydh kept one another on an even keel. They confided in almost everything. Now poor Tallack was cast adrift with only a few trusted fellows to guide him.

He drained his cup and placed it on the table. Neither Ren nor I felt the need to speak, the decision was his alone to make. I thought he might conclude that Kitto should be sent on a mission far from our lands until his popularity waned. Perhaps a scouting trip to the top of the world to assess the situation with the Novantae after we had slain their Chieftain and all their heirs, but Tallack had another plan. One that was doomed to failure.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“I shall tell the Head Hunters to hold leadership trials to root out the best of the best. Whoever they put forward must defeat me in single combat for the honour of becoming the next clan leader of the Head Hunters.” Tallack announced, taking to his feet and puffing out his chest with pride.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Whatever trial he could come up with would be won by Kitto, who would go on to slay Tallack at the first opportunity. Tallack was handing the tribe and my head over to Kitto without the need for battle. I couldn’t let him follow such a flawed plan without speaking up.

“Nephew, with respect…” I began, but he curled his lip as I started to speak. “Please, hear me out, I beg you.”

His posture returned to a defensive one. He sat back down on the bunk, folded his arms and glowered. “Get it off your chest, Aunt, but don’t expect me to follow your suggestions.” This was why Ren was better at this than me. He was a man with an esteemed position in the tribe. Even though he and I viewed most situations in the same way, I was nothing more than an interfering old crone. It crushed me to think that I’d lost his affection.

“From what Ren says, the men would rather let Kitto win in the trials to assure that he got to fight against you for the title.”

“So?”

Was he really ignorant of the warrior’s superior fighting skill, his massive body mass and experience? How could he believe that it would be an honourable duel between them?

Ren butted in to rescue me. “I think what your aunt is trying to say is that given the chance, Kitto would take advantage of the situation and fight dirty. It wouldn’t be fair to put you in that kind of position.”

“You don’t think I’m up to it, that’s what you’re saying.” Tallack looked affronted. “You forget that I have the mystical blade. I am favoured by all the gods. With that against his feeble bronze sword, I will carve him into pieces and then appoint someone trustworthy in his place.” The hubris of youth, will they ever learn?

“You plan on killing Kitto? Then what would be the point of holding warrior trials?” Ren said, utterly missing the part where Tallack believed himself invincible.

“I can then choose the second best to lead my Head Hunters. They will bow to me having beaten Kitto, and I will earn their respect.”

Every aspect of his plan was idiocy, but no amount of cajoling or persuasion would alter his mind. He was determined to go through with the whole thing. There was enough food in camp for maybe a quarter moon, if no one squirrelled away more than they needed. Most people supplemented their rations with what other items they could scavenge in the marshlands or along the coast.

That gave Tallack a little time to get himself organised before sailing along the south-eastern coast to Bentewyn to regain control of the mines. That assumed he would be victorious over Kitto and could bring the Hunters to heel. It was an ambitious assumption.

Tallack left Ren’s hut shortly after his announcement. He said he wished to spend time with his mother and little sister. I know my nephew well. Under times of extreme stress, he returns to the comforting arms of his mother. He knew full well that he was unlikely to beat Kitto in single combat, with or without a sword made from an unknown metal.

Ren dribbled out the last of the ale into my cup. “He can’t win.” He muttered.

I shook my head.

“Then you know what will happen?”

Sniffing, I nodded.  He had no need to say it out loud. It would mark the end of many generations of our family rule over Dumnonii lands. Cryda, the babe and myself would be beheaded, if Kitto was feeling merciful. If not, ritual humiliation, torture and a slow death to discourage anyone from standing against his claim.

“I won’t let that happen to you, Mel. We need to make contingency plans.”

I understood his meaning. He wanted Cryda and I to escape from the compound with little Delen.  He thought we should disappear into the wilderness to live out our days eking out a living from the land like every other family. There was just one problem with that course of action. We were of Chieftain blood, so too was Endelyn’s unborn child and Tallack’s half-brother, Paega the Wily. Every one of us had the right to challenge Kitto’s claim to the Dumnonii. Our tribal alliances were deep rooted, forged over time from the binding ties of wedlock and kinship. Kitto would run us down, right to the ends of the world, to kill us all.

Cryda could legitimately seek refuge and protection from her birth family. Her brother was the Chieftain of the Cantii. In theory, she could also run to the mountain people to be with her daughter Derwa and her husband and heir to the Ordoviches, Glaw. I couldn’t see that