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

grip on the staff. From the expression on Kitto’s face, I could see that he thought it would all be over in moments. To him, Tallack was simply an obstacle in his path to the Chieftaincy. My nephew took the initiative, stepping closer and striking out at Kitto’s head. The larger man used his staff and blocked with ease, before kicking out at Tallack’s legs to unbalance him once again.

The Chief was ready for him this time, jumping over the clumsy move before jabbing the end of the pole into Kitto’s chest. Rather than knock the wind from him, it provoked his anger. What had started as a friendly trial, descended into a venomous clash.

With sheer brute strength, Kitto dropped his own staff and grasped the hazel rod of the Chief’s, raising it and my nephew at the same time. He shook Tallack loose until he dropped down to the sandy ground. The Chief stepped out of his opponent’s reach, scrambling for a replacement weapon.

Before he could seize a spare pole, Kitto was on him again. He grabbed the bunched fabric of Tallack’s tunic and yanked him away from the edge of the circle, sending the Chief tumbling in a backwards roll. Kitto thundered across the circle to finish the task. His eyes twitched and he slowed for just a moment, before shaking his head. I thought that a fly had blurred his vision, but he was soon to recover. He threw down Tallack’s hazel rod and towered over my nephew, pounding him to the ground in a rain of mighty fists.

There was a sickening squelch of gristle as it separated from bone, sending a spray of blood skyward from Tallack’s nose. A second punch closed a swollen eye, the third and fourth looked set to cave in his cheek bones. I held my breath, as the warrior took my nephew ever closer to the Summerlands, one forceful blow at a time.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cryda stood up, clasping her hands to her mouth. “Fight back, son.” Her despair was moving, her cry muted and pained. She was right to plead for him to act. The Chief’s arms were loose at his side, his body limp and unresisting. Why hadn’t he rolled away from the pounding fists of our most fearsome warrior? Tallack was nimble and fleet of foot. Surely, he could out manoeuvre such a beast? My own breathing quickened as our worst fears played out before us all. There was no way my nephew could withstand such a beating for any longer. He must have had his wits knocked right out of him.

I could see Ren’s look of abject horror, unable to intervene to save the life of our young Chieftain. He was the judge and adjudicator and as such, he had to remain fair and impartial. It was never supposed to be a fight to the death, but events played right into Kitto’s hands. The mean brute could see that Tallack was all but spent. He slowed his assault and took in the glory of the crowd’s cheers. The Head Hunters frenzy of admiration manifested in wild foot stamping and roars of support.

Kitto straightened up and gave them a beaming grin. He had more than respect, this was adoration. He was everything my nephew was not. All that was missing for his immediate elevation to leadership was his lack of Chieftain blood running through his veins. Instead, he was spattered in the congealing stuff. Tallack roused a little while Kitto strutted, playing up to his men. The huge man thrust his arms high into the air and faced us elders. This should have been the time when I made my excuses. I should have gathered my things and scuttled off into the forest and away. Watching my nephew meet his end would be a memory to haunt my nights forever more.

Ren did all he could to gain my attention, gesturing towards me from across the fighting ring. He wanted me to save myself; to Grab Cryda and the babe and run for our lives. Instead, I sat dumbstruck and immobile. How ignoble our end would be.

Tallack struggled to his knees, spitting out blood and tooth fragments but keeping a weather eye on his opponent. Kitto had his back to the Chief. He stood tall, punching the air in time with his men as they chanted his name over and over. Surely Ren would call it a definitive win and end the bout. I signalled as much to my friend, who stood and entered the edge of the circle. Tallack was on his feet, closing in on the unsuspecting warrior. I wanted to call out to him, warn him against angering Kitto further, but the crowds were too loud. He wouldn’t have heard me.

When the warrior turned to face the Chief, his eyes widened and he swayed from side to side. He thrust his arms out to regain his balance, but I could tell his head was spinning. Kitto blinked rapidly, shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes. He staggered about as though he'd drunk a skinful of ale rather than a cup or two.

When Tallack landed his first punch, Kitto tried to side step out of his way but failed. The burly man’s legs buckled beneath him. Tallack barely connected fist to chin before the warrior fell to his knees. The Head Hunters fell silent as their champion slid without grace or dignity to the dusty ground.

This was not a knock out, nor was it a fair fight. I glanced at Ren who was staring into the empty cup that Kitto had thrown before the bout. When he looked up, we exchanged a knowing nod. My suspicions were confirmed when I turned to see Endelyn and Treeve grinning at one another, congratulating themselves on the success of their devious plot.

It was all too clear to me now; Endelyn’s need for valerian and the missing poppy resin, the mess left behind in my hut to conceal what had