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

what parts of my nephew I could, but he was in a bad way. That made two of my most favourite men in the world laid low. Poor Ren looked gaunter than ever. His strength failed him when the moon was at its peak, but still, he wouldn’t leave. Treeve laid his furs down on the rushes for Ren to rest on, while the young crewman and I kept Tallack’s bindings cool with fresh water from the spring.

Cryda alternated between dashing to her hut to feed the babe before leaving her with the slave so that she could check on her other child. “Oh, Meliora. His beautiful face is ruined.” She sobbed, when she caught sight of the wounds as I changed the dressings.

“Looks worse than it is. Don’t fret so. He’ll have a scar or two, but that’ll make him all the more mysterious and worldly. I dare say we won’t love him any less.” I winked at Treeve, who suppressed a giggle. Perhaps I have misjudged that young crewman. For all his manipulations, his love for my nephew is steadfast. In the middle of a balmy summer’s night, at that very moment in time, I felt mightily ashamed of my assumptions. I can’t condone his and Endelyn’s foolish scheme, but given the stubbornness of my nephew, what else could they do? I redressed the gashes absently, deep in my own thoughts.

Ren touched my arm. “What do you think he’ll do with Kitto in the morning?”

I shrugged. “It’s a puzzle, that’s for sure.” We sat in silence for a time, ruminating over the issue. “We should have talked him out of the trials.”

“Like that was an option.” Ren snapped, pulling a face. He was right. Ever since his twin’s death, no one had attempted to contradict my nephew’s bizarre decisions. Blydh had always been the voice of reason when Tallack’s head was filled with adventure and bold ideas, at least up until the end. Perhaps Tallack was rudderless without his brother. I knew how close they’d been, even when they were at each other’s throats. Now he was surrounded by people who had their own ambitions prioritised above those of the tribe’s. The more Endelyn and Treeve sank their hooks into him, the less he listened to the advice of elders such as me.

Ren laid back in the furs and beckoned me closer. He seemed to think that his frustrations had hurt my feelings. I sighed and joined him on the rushes, letting him envelop his bony arms around me.

“We should have let Tallack kill Kitto while we had the chance. It’s the only way out of this mess.” I whispered, making sure that neither my nephew nor his slumbering crewman could hear me. Ren didn’t answer. He just clung tightly until we were both fast asleep. As weak as he was, I still felt safe with him by my side, and with Kewri laying in front of the door, there was no way that Kitto nor the Head Hunters would be able to sneak in and slaughter us while we slept.

It was long past dawn when we stirred. Kewri woke us, coughing loudly from the doorway to warn us that Tallack had left the hut. By the time Ren and I had shaken off the confusion of awaking in a strange room, my nephew and friend were already far across the compound. My poor bladder was fit to burst, but I had to know what Tallack planned to do.

“Where’s he going?” I muttered, more to myself than anyone in particular. Ren and I watched Tallack and Kewri stomp down the boardwalks to the Head Hunter tents; stopping every little while so that the Chief could shoo the giant away. May the gods bless that lad, he would not be dissuaded from the mission I had laid before him. Kewri stuck to him like birch tar on a fletcher’s thumb. When they reached the largest tent of the last row next to the freshest end of the tributary, they disappeared inside.

“He’s going to speak with Kitto.” Ren said, grabbing my hand to speed my progress. He almost yanked my arm off, hurrying me along until my feet were practically airborne. It was fortuitous that the morning was so warm. The tent flaps were pinned wide open to allow a gentle breeze to funnel through.

By the time we were level with the doorway, Tallack was standing in front of Kitto while he sat on the stool bucket. The stench was inescapable, the noises almost comedic. Kewri stifled a snort of mirth, clapping his hand over his mouth and nose to avoid the brunt of the smell.

Tallack maintained a dignified frown. “You are not well, my friend.” My nephew nodded towards the profusion of liquids gushing from the warriors back end. “I came to commend you on a trial well fought and lost, but I see you need time to recover. It explains why I was victorious in yesterday’s bout. You are the superior warrior.”

Was I hearing him correctly? Tallack was admitting that Kitto should have won the fight? I opened my mouth and started forward but Ren pulled me back.

Before I could struggle free from his grasp, Kitto peered up at the Chief and smiled. “You won, Chief. I bow to your grace.” His cheeks flushed. Whether that was from the vile humours flowing from his bowels, his blooming facial bruises or embarrassment, I could not say, but he seemed to be placated by Tallack’s high praise.

“I won because you were not at full fitness. I’ll send my aunt to give you one of her tinctures. When you are rested and well, we’ll announce your elevation to clan leadership together.”

The two warriors regarded one another for a moment, both sporting swollen eyes, blackened cheeks and bent noses. At length, Kitto nodded. “It would be my honour.”

Ren reached over and pushed my chin upwards, closing my gaping mouth. Was that it? No brawling, or arguments, no calling Tallack out as a