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

miners waved their spears and bows towards the path back to camp, urging us to move with haste. Neither of us had any intention of hanging around in case they altered their minds and slaughtered us there and then. Kewri hooked his hand under my elbow to speed our return over the uneven ground. We didn’t even stop to fill the water bladders for fear that they were still on our heels.

When we got back to our huts, Kewri slammed the ducks down on the work bench and muttered something about telling Tallack what had happened. He left me alone and frightened, sitting on the edge of my bunk wet with sweat and dry mouthed from exertion.

Within moments, Ren hurried inside and took my face in his hands. “Are you hurt? Are you alright? I should have come with you.”

He meant well but his closeness was stifling. I couldn’t breathe. Leaning back, I pushed his arms away. “I’m fine. Leave me be. Kenver just meant to scare us. Did a fine job of it too.” I shouldn’t have snapped at him.

He stepped away and swallowed hard. I could see how much I’d hurt his feelings. “Why would he do that? What’s his game?”

“He wanted to send a message to Tallack that we can’t win. He’s the ruler of the mines, and if we’re not careful, all of Dumnonia too.”

Ren’s mouth fell open. “You think he will take over the whole tribe? But he doesn’t have the trade relationships or Tallack’s ship.”

I glared up at him. “It’s sitting in the bay. Kenver only has to kill us off one at a time before taking everything; our ships, our people and all our land. Do you really think he hasn’t planned this entire situation? You can bet your life that the pleasant and amenable side of him is just an act. He’s probably been trading with foreign vessels right under our noses for dozens of cycles. No doubt he learnt that kind of deceit from his father. He was not a nice man.” I added, allowing my vehemence to get the better of me. “We only have Kenver’s word about the quantity of tin extracted and processed by his clan. How are we to prove him wrong?”

I leaned my elbows on my knees and rested my forehead in my palms. There was no solution to this mess. One way or another, the Alchemists were set to take over everything. It seemed too carefully considered to be a sudden reaction to the deaths of his children. I couldn’t help thinking that he’d been waiting for the perfect time to strike, having simmered on the notion of becoming Chieftain of the Dumnonii all along.

Ren saw my distress and sat by my side, slipping his arm about me. Despite the feeling of being crowded, I let him hold me close. The last thing I wanted was to upset him further and I needed the comfort as much as he did. Kenver had secured the upper hand and neither of us could see a way out of this desperate situation. We stayed close and silent for some time, each of us mulling over all that had occurred since our arrival.

At length, I resigned myself to plucking the ducks for supper, if only to occupy my thoughts. It would’ve been so simple to have taken Ren up on his offer to flee the tribe when the chance arose and live for the rest of our days in obscurity.

With the benefit of hindsight, I should have left. These were problems fit for the young and strong, not the weary and cynical. I had given my life in duty to the health of our people, stayed by the side of each and every Chieftain since my birth. Surely, I had earned some respite in my dotage?

I looked at Ren as he rose from the bunk and began pacing the rushes on the floor. It was evident from his expression that he had not yet conceded defeat. His brow furrowed, his thumb and forefinger pinched his bottom lip. I watched him as he hunted through his memories in search of an answer. He was more determined than I to see an end to the conflict between our clans. For that alone, my heart swelled. There would be no escaping from our tribe now.

We talked and walked, ate and napped until our discussions began to circle back on themselves, every potential avenue explored and rejected in our quest for resolution. To make matters worse, a rider arrived at dusk to deliver a message from the Chief’s mother. Most of us saw him skid his panting and skittish horse to a halt close to Tallack’s hut and dismount. Those of us who dared, crowded around the doorway to listen to the news.

Tallack was in a foul mood. He stood with his hands resting on his hips and wearing an irritated scowl. The day’s sweat trickled down his bare chest, gleaming in the final rays of the sun through the doorway. Two of his men lit the torches. The Chief gestured for the messenger to enter. Warriors crowded around, making it impossible for me to see.

“Mind out…shift yourself, man!” I bellowed, elbowing my way to the front until I could enter the hut. It was a risky move but Tallack was concentrating too hard on the rider to be annoyed by my presence.

The messenger was gaunt and burnt by the sun. He was as agitated and restless as his horse, unable to stand still and blinking rapidly. He fidgeted before my nephew until Tallack grew impatient.

“Speak. What news have you from my mother?”

“It’s bad, Chief. She sent me to tell you that the men you left behind are overwhelmed. Skentel is doing his best to keep order, in between the building projects in camp, but the homesteaders are starving and fights break out daily. The elders have erected paling walls and tethered dogs around their huts to keep them out, such is the