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

in the summer sky. The breeze had picked up, cooling our faces. When the moon was high above our heads, we could see the flames licking the ridge top in the distance.

Hurrying along the opposite bank of the Plym, my jitters increased with every step. Ahead of us, we could see the elders scattered among frightened ponies, trying to gather their belongings ready to flee. Endelyn was in the midst of them, her arms high, her head tipped back in one of her customary poses where she claimed to be communing with the gods. I could see her bulging belly silhouetted against the fire light. The child inside her was growing fast.

As we drew near, The Chief’s mother shrieked at the elders and their wives to pack up and leave. They were all so fraught, few noticed our arrival. Senara dashed over to the priestess and together they pressed their foreheads together, sharing a moment of joy. It was a touching scene. Even their puppy bounded towards the young warrior in greeting. Behind them, the wooden henge of life was lit up with torches and decorated with flowers and ivy tendrils, carted all the way from the Exe.

When the priestess turned to welcome Tallack and me, I saw her gown in all its glory. The robe was almost as vibrant as the curls in her hair. The sunset colours from the alder bark dye framed an arrowhead shaped section of deep purple cloth, stitched from her chest to her swollen belly. I couldn’t suppress my smile. Endelyn had taken the pennant from Tallack’s ship to incorporate into her bridal gown.

Her attending maids were similarly clad, with paler gowns of their own. Theirs differed only in the absence of the purple strip of fabric. She had created a magnificent setting for her ascension to the position of Ruvane, spoiled only by the threat of the wild fires.

“Thank the goddess that you’ve arrived.” Endelyn exclaimed, cupping Senara’s face in both hands before approaching the Chief. “I was beginning to think you’d never come.” She stroked Tallack’s chest and wound her arms about his neck in an enforced embrace. “We should begin the binding ritual immediately.” Endelyn nuzzled her face into my nephew’s neck and looked set to stay there.

Tallack peeled the priestess’s limbs from his body and stepped aside. “Mother!” He called out to Cryda. “Did you bring the Duro bride along as I asked?”

Endelyn slumped, her freckled face puckered in dismay while all eyes turned to the fair-haired girl on Cryda’s arm.

“I did, son. Her name is Gytha.” Cryda held out the girl’s hand, encouraging Tallack to clasp it in his own. I don’t suppose I was alone in seeing the alteration to the sullen Duro from when we first saw her at the crossing on the River Sid. Her yellow hair was pinned in curls around her radiant face, her blue gown cinched at her narrow waist, her pale limbs dressed with a single golden armlet. Even I could detect the impact it had on my nephew. The poor dazed dolt took her hand in his and blinked so slowly I believed him to be drugged.

Cryda shot me with a wicked grin. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

All Tallack could manage in reply was a satisfied hum, similar to that emitted whenever he ate roasted boar.

His mother was not finished with her introductions. She lifted a graceful arm towards a warrior who bore the neck tattoo of the Durotriges. “This is her brother, Hedley, come to assure the safety of his kin. He brings with him some charming young men too.”

Tallack bristled at the notion of a Duro warrior having enchanted his mother in such a short space of time. The Chief released his new bride and took the forearm of the brother he would gain from the ceremony. The two men regarded each other with suspicion. Hedley, being shorter, had to stare up at my nephew. I could see that the Duro had greater strength in his grip. Tallack flinched from the pain as Hedley dug his fingers into our Chief’s muscles and squeezed.

“Glad to have you take such good care of my… our kin, Hedley. You are most welcome.”

The Duro nodded in return, careful to retain his stern expression. “A long-overdue union between our tribes, Chief, but under the circumstances, I think it prudent to retreat from the moors and conduct the ritual elsewhere.” There was something irksome about his manner, as though he expected our entire tribe to jump at his suggestion. He dropped the Chief’s arm and turned his back to us, in readiness to leave.

It may have been common sense, but his manner of delivery only served to rile Tallack even more. “Scared of a little heath fire, Hedley? We have ample time for the ceremony.” The fearful mumbles and muttering among the elders grew loud enough to warrant a venomous glare from the Chief. “Make ready, Priestess,” Tallack called out. “We’ll have this matter sorted in no time at all. We can celebrate with a feast when we return to the compound.”

People scurried about the place, gathering posies and offerings, moving agitated horses from the henge of life and preening for their part in the joint binding of Tallack to Endelyn, followed by Tallack to Gytha.

Recovered from the Chief’s slight, Endelyn rallied at the thought of finally becoming the most powerful woman of the tribe. “Tallack, I have asked my friend from the Nine Maiden’s circle to conduct the ritual. I should very much like you to be friends with him too.” She beckoned the willowy creature over for a formal introduction.

“Not now, Priestess. Let’s just get on with it.” He waved them away and trotted through the tall uprights of the henge to his position at the farthest end. Scowling, Endelyn picked up the fabric of her trailing gown and summoned her maids to assist her. They fussed about, carrying her flowers and tending to the fallen tresses curling over her shoulders.

Hedley and I exchanged