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

“Ah, there you are, Aunt. Were you listening to my private conversation in there?” He squinted at me and sighed. “Honestly, Aunt Mel, you have got to stop treating me like a child.” He stormed off down the boardwalk with poor Kewri spinning about not knowing whether he was coming or going. “And call off your dog! I don’t need protecting.” Tallack yelled, halting the giant in his tracks. Ren and I wandered back towards my hut with Kewri dragging his heels behind us.

“Was Kitto genuinely sick after all?” Ren whispered.

I thought about the missing poppy resin and my scattered herbs. It was a fair assumption that Endelyn had taken more than valerian when she distracted Vina in my hut. The dried blackthorn flowers were strewn everywhere. They are known to loosen the bowels to an unwelcome extent. “No, Ren. I think the warrior was given a special concoction mixed just for him alone.”

“Do you think he knows that he was dosed? He could be biding his time and planning revenge.”

“I guess I shall find out later when I take him some medicine to staunch the flux.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The sensible thing to do would have been to send Vina with the tonic to Kitto’s tent. She would be received as nothing more than my messenger, fulfilling the Chief’s request to treat his ailment. Ren offered to accompany me, but he was not fit enough to fight against a warrior of Kitto’s strength, even one who could barely get up from the bucket.

“Go, get some food down you and rest.” I said, dismissing Ren’s kindness with the flick of my wrist. “Kitto is not likely to attack a weakling elder like me. There’s no honour in that. Besides, I want him to let his guard down. I might learn something of value.” In truth, I was still giddy from relief having avoided catastrophe the night before. That kind of turnabout in events tends to embolden your senses.

Ren puffed and postured for a while, grunting and muttering with frustration. “There is just no arguing with you, is there?”

“Better get used to that.” I said, before I’d even thought the implications through. My presumption that we would become a couple was obvious to all. Vina and Kewri’s eyebrows rose on their foreheads, both smirking and giggling. I couldn’t take it back. It was already spoken. Ren said nothing, but his grin brought a rosy glow to my cheeks.

I scooped up my bag and the blackthorn bark tea and scuttled off as though I’d been scalded. The irony was not lost on me as I walked back towards the Head Hunter’s tents. It was blackthorn flowers that had scoured his innards and it would be blackthorn bark that would soothe them. Endelyn knew far more about my craft than she’d ever let on. I would have to watch her more closely from now on. The question remained though; had Kitto realised that his ailment was not some ague but a deliberate affliction?

I stood outside his tent and took a breath of fresh air before entering. The stench was so overpowering, it made my eyes water. Holding out the cup of steaming tea at arm’s length I spoke through the sleeve of my tunic. “The Chief sent me. This should calm things down for you.”

He was in a shocking state. His taut, bruised skin shone with perspiration; his shoulders slumped as he tilted his head up to see me. “Thank you, Fur Benyn. That was kind of you.” Where I’d seen a braggart and bully the night before, I now saw a pale and broken man.

My defences softened and I chose my words carefully to avoid suspicion. “If you’re in pain, I can fix you some willow tea in just a moment…” I took out a handful of bark from my pocket and presented it to him.

Kitto shook his head. “I can handle pain, Fur Benyn.” He took the tonic and peered up at me with sorrowful eyes. It was then I realised the extent of his dilemma. He’d worked hard on building a reputation within his clan; a respected elder statesman and warrior, feared by all who crossed his path. The previous night’s events saw him staggering about after drinking only a couple of cups of ale. If that was not enough of an embarrassment, he had passed out after taking a beating from a man half his age and size.

If he was aware of the priestess’s plan, he would’ve been beyond angry. No bout of the squits would stop him from wreaking his revenge. I saw no sign of fury or belligerence. Endelyn and Treeve appeared to have scraped through undetected.

A gash on his brow oozed with pus. I gestured towards it, shame bursting in my chest. “Will you at least let me see to that cut? It’ll fester if it’s not cleaned and stitched.”

“I’ll stop by your hut later, if that’s acceptable. You can’t be expected to tend my wounds while I’m like this.”

My stomach lurched. Despite all that Endelyn and Treeve had put him through, and the respect he’d lost, he still showed me more respect than my own kin. For just a moment, I almost believed that our tribe would be better off having Kitto as our leader, were it not for the possibility of him taking off my head in the process.

I dithered for a while, wondering whether to hold my breath and treat his wounds there and then, but my nose made my decision for me. I left the warrior alone with his woes and headed north towards home.

Before I had left the Head Hunter’s camp, I spotted Tallack leaving another tent further along the row. He wore a wide smile as he bounded along the boardwalk in front of me. I walked on the dry earth, keeping my footsteps light and unheard, curious as to his carefree manner.

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