Pagan Siege (Tribes of Britain Book 5) by Sam Taw (10 best novels of all time TXT) 📕

better than turning the rest of the men against you for flogging someone they respect as a leader?” I’d said too much, not giving my choice of words enough thought, but it was too late to take them back.

Tallack sneered. “I’m the only leader of this tribe since my brother’s death, Aunt. Don’t you forget that.” He stomped away from the Long Hut in a southerly direction. Despite my warnings, he was intent on sending poor Renowden after the unruly clan.

By late afternoon, the smell of burning was so strong, it made us all cough. I tied a cloth over my face and carried on stitching and pasting until I was out of cattle gut and plantain. My back ached and my stomach felt as though it was trying to eat itself. I wandered out into the grassy space at the south of the island to stretch my legs and click my spine. Ren’s wooden panel was wedged in the doorway of his hut. That was sign enough that he’d followed Tallack’s orders despite his weakness.

When the sun dipped below the horizon in the west, the gate horn blew a second time that day. More tired and dusty homesteaders had arrived from their abandoned settlements around the moors. Senara loomed up behind me as the newest group of our tribe fanned out and started foraging for whatever they could find. “Secure your belongings, Senara, or you might find them wandering off. These are desperate people fallen on hard times.”

Within moments I heard the unmistakable sound of pigs squealing in the western wood. The loudest of them fell silent abruptly. One of the visitors had killed a pig. I hoped to Cernonnus that it wasn’t one of the suckling sows, leaving starving piglets to rear to add to our problems. Our islands’ delicate balance was shattered the moment the homesteaders arrived.

This must be how they felt whenever their homes were raided by neighbouring tribes. A few of the Sea Warriors captured the men making off with the hog and took them straight to Tallack. Treeve directed the Long Hut slaves to collect and butcher the sow for the pot. At least that solved the immediate food shortage, even if her little piglets went without a mother.

My wits were frayed, my bones ached and my muscles were sore. I returned to my hut and wedged the panel in the doorway. With so many strangers abroad, I no longer felt safe in my house. Kewri returned shortly after dark. When he discovered all that had happened, he vowed to protect my goats from anyone lurking in the night. I believed him too. If it meant staying up until morning, Kewri would guard us all. The reliable giant stood outside with a deer slung around his neck as though it was a collar to keep him warm.

Vina’s eyes brightened when she saw his haul. “Oh, thank Cernonnus!” She clapped her hands together at the thought of so much meat. “You are clever.” I could see that it slipped out of her mouth before she realised what she was saying.

Kewri gave her an uncomfortable grin. His cheeks flushed with a rosy glow. “I’ll bleed and butcher it around the back.” He went to step away and stopped. “If you like, in the morning, I’ll start preparing the hide for you.” She didn’t realise that he meant her, until he glanced back and smiled.

“Oh, yes. I’d like that.”

A part of me wanted to say, told you so, but I was too tired to argue with her. She’ll learn, or she won’t. The night was almost as warm as the day. The mild breeze dropped, leaving us all without relief. It was good to have Kewri back. At least we could reopen the door and wander to the cool stream to sluice ourselves down.

Cooking was impossible inside the hut. Vina built a fire while Kewri prepared the meat. I was too hungry to wait for a sizeable roast, and it didn’t seem like the decent thing to do with so many starving people about camp. We sliced thin strips of the venison and fried it in a pan with some duck fat I was saving. We had no bread to mop up the juices, but it was still the tastiest thing I’d eaten in an age. With prudent management, we would have enough to last us for some time, providing it was properly preserved with salt and dried. At least that was something Kewri could do without needing my instruction.

The morning brought more homesteaders from the north. Not such a large crowd as the day before, but still enough to have us bursting at the seams. Their reports were of vast fires skipping along the dry heath lands, sending the wild ponies racing off into the distance. Our loss would no doubt be the Duros gain. Tallack grilled their elders until he was sure that the fires were heading away from our island compound.

We were not at risk; for the present. I knew how quickly the wind could change up on the moors. In the blink of an eye, it could turn south and put us all in danger. There was enough panic in camp without me fanning the flames. Without ale, Tallack was sober, clear headed and fully aware of his responsibilities. He ordered his Sea Warriors to fell trees, gather materials and start to build shelters on the south-western training grounds outside the compound.

We all knew that being outside our palisade walls would set them apart from our community, but there simply wasn’t enough room to house them all within. Thanks to our new alliance they were safe from Duro raids, but without the advantage of integrating with the families and warriors inside the walls. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but Tallack assured them that it was a temporary arrangement. Some muttered their discontent, claiming that their tributes were worth better treatment, but they fell silent when some of the warriors closed in on them,