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

to forage.” I said, changing my course and darting into the undergrowth. I sliced a few edible leaves into my bag for later and directed Ren to a patch of tall reeds where Kewri and I had caught ducks before. He looked askance at me, but he knew that good meat, feathers and rendered fat were all in short supply.

The more plantain and moss I gathered, the more I allowed my mind to wander. Before long, I’d drifted into a kind of trance, picking, cutting and slicing roots and shoots until my back reminded me of my age. In a small clearing further up the slope, I spotted the bright yellow of mullein flowers. They lifted my heart to think that I could give the men teas and ointments of this wondrous plant to ward off the rot and ease their pain.

Scrambling up the loose soils, I slung my bag behind my back, tucked Ren’s knife into my belt and crawled on all fours closer to the luscious patch of this glorious herb. Rejoicing in my find, I set about plucking the tiny flowers from the tapered tip and then bent low to harvest the soft, downy leaves from the base.

That was when I heard Ren trying to get my attention from the valley floor with rasping noises. I glanced back over my shoulder to see him gesturing for me to stay low and hide. Dropping onto my belly, my pulse thumped in my ears until I was sweating with panic. Ren crept up alongside me, touched my shoulder and then pointed to a clump of bushes further up the slope. They were swaying and not from the mild breeze around us.

Ren moved his lips nearer to my head and whispered. “Stay here, we’ll either have a feast this night, or a dead miner on our hands.” With his bow held out and an arrow nocked, he sneaked closer to the source of movement.  This time, no one could take us by surprise.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Nausea swept bile into my gullet as I watched the man who meant the most to me in the world, creep towards danger. The rustling in the bushes ceased and within moments, a man appeared in the clearing. His eyes bulged with shock upon seeing the tip of an arrow so near to his face.

“Are you alone?” Ren growled at him, daring to pace even closer.

“Yes, yes, I am.” The man raised his palms in supplication.

Ren flicked the end of the bolt to his left. “Move.”

The pair of them scuffled and slipped on the loose earth until Ren was behind him and able to check the shrubbery.

“He’s telling the truth.” Ren said to me, while prodding his captive in the back. They scurried down the bank towards the valley floor. I followed with some caution, looking backwards every so often in case we’d missed more hiding Alchemists. When we were next to the river, Ren snatched the man’s heavy leather bag and a small knife from his belt. I took both eagerly, tucking the blade in my belt before crouching on the ground to examine the contents of the satchel. As soon as I lifted the flap I gasped. It was filled with ingots of pure tin and strips of the finest dried venison.

“Well, well. This will take some explaining.” Ren smiled.

“More importantly,” I said. My nose crumpled in puzzlement. “How did you make it this far along the valley without us seeing you? There are no mines in this area. They’re all in the gorge over yonder.”

The man looked down and scuffed his feet on the dusty trail. “Working mines, no, but there are abandoned tunnels.”

The smirk on the man’s face was too much for Ren to bear. His clan had beaten us at every turn. They’d killed and maimed, burned and impaled more of our warriors than could be recalled in a single sitting. Ren sucked in a great lungful of air, his anger rising with each passing moment. He let out a long mournful growl and pulled the bowstring taut ready to release a bolt right through the man’s chest. I couldn’t let our only source of useful information die before my eyes.

Forgoing my own safety, I stepped between Ren and the Alchemist. “Wait! Don’t kill him. I need to know more.”

Ren’s angry outburst wiped the grin from the man’s features. “Hey, I have no quarrel with the Chief, nor his family. Take the tin if you want. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

Ren lowered his aim a fraction and frowned. “Why would you betray the Alchemists?”

The man kept his hands aloft. “The way I see it is that we’re all Dumnonii, right?” He looked to me for confirmation. I nodded, encouraging him to continue. “As far as I can tell, your fight lies with Kenver and his kin or what’s left of them. Never did like that Kerensa. He won’t tell us what happened, but I’d bet my best knife that she was to blame.” He nodded towards the blade that I’d taken from him only moments before.

I had to hide a smirk of my own. Ren was less taken by this jolly fellow, thinking it all to be a distraction.

Softening to his earnest speech, I asked; “What name do you go by?”

“Nectan.” He kept his eyes focused on Ren as he encircled him with the arrow still nocked in his bow.

I gave him my sternest look. “And how is it that you came to be in this valley with a bag full of tin and enough dried meat to last more than a quarter moon?”

He stared at me for a long while. “I know you. You fixed up my lad after that cave in last winter.”

I couldn’t tell from his expression whether he was pleased or angry. He was stalling for time. Perhaps he hoped that his clan would rescue him or he’d find a way to escape. With Ren protecting me, I decided to give him some leeway.