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

her much of a welcome. It was hardly her fault that she was forced to become my apprentice. Like so many women of Chieftain blood, her life was little more than a commodity or bargaining tool. At least her uncle had no intention of marrying her to a great tribal leader. That was the future ahead of Vina’s cousin, poor girl. The moon was full and round in the evening sky; the perfect time to prearrange a meeting.

“Did you see your kin in the borderlands today?”

Her head snapped around at me, her eyes staring wide as if I was some mystical prophet.

“I was young once you know. That was a long walk to make in a day.” I held her steady gaze for some time before looking away. “Who did you meet at the crossing, your mother or a young man?”

To this she sat fully upright, slack jawed at my guesswork. At length she muttered. “My mother.”

“You pleaded with her to take you home, but she sent you back here anyway?”

Vina nodded, her eyelids welling with tears. So, this was the reason for her changeable mood. “The way I see it, child, you have two options; either come up with a better plan of escape or decide to make a good life for yourself among us.”

She snorted her contempt. “Your people spit at me.”

“Then show our foolish tribe’s folk that they are wrong about you Duros. Make them see what I see; a clever young woman who can be relied on, someone who understands family duty and honour, or am I wrong?” I gave her a firm glare, making her squirm under the pressure. How could she gainsay such lavish flattery of her character?

Her chin dropped to her chest and her eyes closed, but she didn’t answer. There was nothing else for me to say that could rouse her from her sadness. I got to my feet, clicking and crunching my joints to straighten my back. Before I reached the door, Vina called after me.

“I’m sorry that I let you down, Fur Benyn. It won’t happen again.”

I waved my hand about, dismissing her apology without facing her. Whether she chose to flee or remain, it was out of my hands. There were no secret tin deposits, nor jewels for her to steal. At worst, I’d lose my best tunic and my nephew’s knife, but if that allowed her safe passage to a happier life, she was welcome to both.

There were more important tribal matters to deal with than the fate of one ill-tempered Duro girl. When I got back to the fighting ring, Ren was lighting more torches around the edge of the circle, while the womenfolk cleared away the cups and bowls. The Head Hunters were all gathered on one side of the training grounds, while Tallack’s Sea Warriors were on the other side, offering him words of wisdom and support.

Endelyn and Cryda fussed about Tallack, straightening his clothing and hair in between their nervous chattering and fawning. Why couldn’t they see that this was the most idiotic scheme that our Chief could have ever concocted? They billed and cooed about the place as if it was a midsummer gathering wrestling match between two brothers. I doubted that anyone surrounding this fighting ring would bet on Tallack winning the bout. Kitto was stronger, faster and more experienced than my nephew by a large margin.

Tallack grew impatient with the fussy women and batted them aside. Just as well that he did, for the Hunters were already smirking and whispering their scorn amongst themselves. Far from gaining the men’s respect, he was rapidly becoming a figure of fun. I edged closer for a while, hoping to catch him on his own. If there was a chance to put an end to the folly, I had to try. The priestess and Cryda took their seats and Tallack chose a hazel pole from the stack. It was too late to back out now. I’d missed my chance.

The crowd hollered and bayed for blood. All I could do was to find my bench at the head of the elders and watch my kin get torn limb from limb. Kitto strolled into the circle, keen to start the bout. He swilled the dregs of his ale down and threw the empty cup to Ren. They roared and stamped their feet in anticipation. Despite the nip in the night air, Kitto’s bronzed torso shone with the sweat of the day. He flexed his muscles and winked at the group of maidens who’d sneaked away from their families for a closer look.

He was everything a Dumnonii warrior should be; charming, intelligent, fierce and ambitious. By comparison, Tallack looked like a bumbling child, taking his time in selecting a pole that would inevitably break under the force of one swipe from his opponent. I tried to focus over the clamour from the tribe’s folk and the pounding thrum of my heart in my ears.

Kitto was growing impatient with Tallack’s indecision. “Are you ready to begin, Chief?” It sounded more like a command than a question. Tallack dropped two of the hazel rods to the ground and hurried into the ring with a third. I looked the pair up and down. A part of me was relieved to see that there was no way Kitto could be hiding a blade on his person. His chest and feet were bare and his leggings were tight, leaving nothing to the imagination. That only eased my fear for a single beat of the musician’s drum. The moment Ren blew the horn to start, Kitto launched himself at my nephew with such force, Tallack was thrown backwards out of the ring. It was only thanks to the quick reactions of his Sea Warriors that he stayed on his feet. They cushioned his fall and shoved him towards the mighty warrior.

Tallack was not prepared for such a rapid response. He readied himself for the serious task ahead, planting his feet firmly and adjusting his