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

been taken, the sneaking around with jugs of ale, Treeve’s insistence that he should take charge of sharing out the last of the beer to the fighters, a job meant for slaves. They assured Tallack’s victory with my potent medicines. If this became common knowledge, Tallack would lose more than the respect of the men. Every tribe south of the River Trent would hear about how he won.

I shot Treeve a shrivelling look. He ignored me, sticking his nose into the air and hugging Endelyn. How could I have been so foolish? Far from being a potential threat to the priestess, the pair were plotting together all along.

Before I could wrap my brain around how Endelyn persuaded the crewman to abandon hopes of becoming the first male Ruvane and support her instead, I was distracted by my nephew’s grunts. Rather than ending the bout and claiming his victory, our Chief had decided to pound Kitto’s face into the same bloody mess as his own. Talk about make matters worse. The warrior was unconscious, addled into a resin filled haze.

Ren dashed into the ring and grabbed Tallack’s wrist, holding it high and proclaiming him the winner of the bout. At least that put an end to the whole farce. I couldn’t decide whether I was pleased at the outcome or furious. My family were still leaders of the tribe, our lives spared for another day, but at what price? Would the Head Hunters be as suspicious as Ren and I or had Treeve dosed them too? I slumped back down on the bench and rubbed my forehead.

Cryda wandered closer, with a smug grin plastered across her face. “See, Meliora. I told you he would win. My son is the best warrior in all the lands.”

I scanned her face, judging her level of sincerity. The poor woman believed every misguided word escaping her mouth. How could she not see what had happened before her very eyes? Tallack leaned on Ren in front of the crowd. Only a faint show of foot stamping came from the Sea Warriors, none from the homesteaders nor Head Hunters. Far from uniting our clans, the trials had broken them beyond repair.

Now who would lead the Head Hunters? If we were to take back control over our mines, we needed every able-bodied man fighting as one, not bickering amongst themselves or second guessing Tallack’s orders. Worse still, what would Kitto do once he’d recovered? Would he take his revenge on Tallack when he least expected attack or wait until he could gain the favour of our whole tribe?

I sidled past the elders’ benches to sneak a quiet word with the sulking Kewri. Leading him to a thicket near to the stream, I spoke in earnest to my giant of a friend. “I know I have no right to order you to do anything for me, but what I ask of you now is of the utmost importance.”

He looked at me with wide and frightened eyes and nodded his consent.

“You must protect the Chief’s life as though it were your own. Do you understand? You cannot let him out of your sight for a single moment.”

For such a brooding dolt, there were times when he was often quite shrewd. He flicked his gaze over to the Chief and then at the Head Hunters, who were lolling about on the parched grass at the far side of the circle. They were all a potential threat to Tallack’s safety, and although it would be impossible for one man to protect him against every single warrior, I knew that he would try. Kewri lowered his stare to the floor and nodded again. It was, perhaps, unfair of me to ask it of him but there was no one else I could trust.

Ren blew the horn and announced that Tallack would inform the elders of his decisions in the morning. That gave us a chance to patch him up and talk some sense into him. The most immediate crisis may have been averted, but we were all far from secure in our positions.

Endelyn looked positively put out when the elders joined us in shooing everyone to their respective huts. The homesteaders were bawdy and boisterous, having had few opportunities to gather in such large crowds for similar events before. The novelty was beguiling, tipping them towards bickering and infighting themselves. For once, the Sea Warriors were the only sobering influence in the entire tribe. They took their cues from Massen and kept order in our place.

When, at last, I was able to battle my way through the stragglers to my nephew, he could hardly stand with the pain. His poor face was a ragged mess of cuts and bruises, his nose misshapen and bleeding. He clutched his middle with a tenderness that gave me some insight into his level of agony, but to give him his due, he did not murmur once.

Kewri and Ren walked either side of the Chief to the western gate just in case he collapsed, sparing him the indignity of being carried. We left Kitto on the ground where he fell. His clan would see to him when they came down from their addled state. Treeve fell in behind them, alongside me and Endelyn, all of us instinctively closing rank to protect my nephew. The Chief’s hut was closer than mine. Kewri stood guard in the doorway while Ren scurried off to collect my healing kit.

The priestess stayed for mere moments before excusing herself. “I must give an offering to the gods to speed his recovery.” She was almost back out of the door as she spoke, such was her haste to leave. Perhaps that was part of her deal with Treeve to garner his support, that when it came to something as personal as nursing Tallack back to health, only he could stay at the Chief’s side. Whatever the situation may have been, we saw nothing more from her all that night.

I stitched and bathed, pasted and wrapped