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

The three whistles sounded from the cliff tops, indicating a change in the guards. Those whose turn it was to replace them, hurried off to the path at the edge of the headland. A short time later, those who had finished their watch, returned to the beach. There was still no sign of Treeve.

When the moon rose, the tide went fully out exposing a large tract of wet sand. I needed time away from the men. They were offensive in many respects, from their bawdy tales of the marshland women to their smell.

You’d think being so close to the sea that they’d rinse themselves down after a long day of sweating. “Kewri, can you come and hold a torch for me? I want to see if I can’t rake some cockles down there.” I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder, indicating my intention to forage at the low water mark in the dark. He slipped in the loose sand as he attempted to stand up, falling on his backside with a thump.

Ren tapped his shoulder. “I’ll go lad. You get some sleep before your watch.” I had a feeling Ren would volunteer to help me. It was like we were the only two elders in the world, looking out for one another in this harsh land.

I held the torch close to the ground, searching for bumps and bubbles in the smooth shoreline where the shellfish pumped out waste water but it was almost impossible to see. Ren dug about with a spear in the hope of hitting something edible but there was not much to be had. I suspected that Kenver had already stripped the beach of food before we arrived.

The night wore on and with another watchman change, Treeve still had not returned. Tallack sat gazing at the dancing flames, picking his calloused hands in silence. Every now and then, he strolled along the guarded section of the dunes before settling back down by the fires.

I too found it hard to sleep despite the cooler temperature and the gentle breeze. Late into the night, I did manage to drop off, but it wasn’t enough to revive my spirits. Ren was already plucking a couple of wildfowl from the wetlands further along the bay when I awoke.

“Treeve?” I asked him. Ren shook his head. “He’s not…?”

“Not that we know of, just hasn’t returned.” Ren’s face dropped into sadness. “But we did lose two more men last night.”

“Is Kewri safe?” I shot up from my sandy bed in a panic.

Ren looked up and pointed to my giant friend wandering back from the dunes. It took quite some time for my heart to stop racing in my chest. He smiled at me as if to say, always fussing. “It was a couple of our youngest crewmen, both shot through the back with arrows.” Ren took out his anger on the dead bird, ripping great handfuls of feathers from its corpse in rapid strokes and plunging them into a sack.

“Where’s the Chief?” I got to my feet and dusted myself down.

“Arranging for the funeral pyre. Doesn’t look like this mess will be resolved for a while, so we can’t take the bodies back to their families.”

I understood why he was so upset. These were sailors who looked up to Ren, learned from him and took their values from his actions. One day, they would have taken his place in the Sea Warriors as navigators and wily traders. Our numbers were declining at an alarming rate.  “I did manage to persuade Tallack to wait until Kitto and the Hunters arrive before we venture into the woods again.”

That was something for which to be grateful. This headstrong and arrogant side of my nephew was hard to stomach, especially when his decisions led to loss of lives. With a great many more men, Kenver might just agree to talks instead of this bloody uprising. When Tallack wandered back to the fireside he approached me.

“Aunt Mel, how well do you remember the position of the mine shafts in the gorge?”

“Fairly well, I’d say, although some were new and shallow, whilst others looked to be much older and deeper, with many interconnecting branches. I only went inside a couple, and not far at that. Kenver usually had the injured person carried closer to the entrance for me to treat.”

The Chief unsheathed the huge greying sword from its scabbard and passed it to me. “Can you draw it in the sand?”

It was a tall order, considering I could barely wield the heavy weapon and my memory of the tunnels was patchy at best. Most mines ran next to each other from a single external path, with one man gouging out the rock, and a small boy or girl shovelling out the ore. The deepest cuts were on the left side of the tributary and low in the valley. I suggested that as the ore became scarce, new tunnels were created further up the ravine on both sides. I did my best to score a rudimentary map into the wet sand, but it was hardly accurate.

Tallack pulled at his whiskers, frowning. “So how are they able to fetch clean water or food without coming down to the river?”

“The whole area is riddled with fresh water streams that pop up from the rock face. I wouldn’t imagine it difficult for them to store dried meat strips, grain, and roots, especially since they’ve had unlimited access to tin for trade with passing ships.”

No one liked what I had to say. They all scoffed and moaned, kicking at the sand and spitting, before walking away. Did they really think that someone as bright and knowledgeable as Kenver would hide in the tunnels without fresh water or provisions?

Tallack gave the men orders. Some were to secure a boundary around the huts at the foot of the headland, others were sent out to hunt for and gather food. More warriors were tasked with fletching new