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

but half a night to gather our things and pack all we needed. My medicine stocks were at an all-time low; my poppy resin dwindling, my cattle gut was down to a few dried lengths and still I was without a new set of knives. How could I treat the sick and injured without fresh supplies?

Endelyn continued to scowl at us until Senara held her shoulders in both hands.

“I think I should go with them.” The shield maiden said, keeping her eyes fixed on the priestess’s. “They’ll need a reliable scout, someone who can move about the area unheard and unseen. Plus, my aim is better than most of the men put together.”

“You can’t leave me alone.” Endelyn wailed.

“You won’t be. You have the pup, and um…” Senara nodded her head towards Cryda, nursing her babe at the end of the platform. “You’ll have her for company.” The wry smile prompted Endelyn to scoff, before the pair of them started to titter. I could tell who the Chief was in their relationship. “You’ll be busy with the preparations for your binding ceremony, not to mention all the new homesteaders who will need the benefit of your priestly advice.” Senara gave her a knowing smile. I knew it too. There were times when those of her sect do little more than exploit the ignorant. The homesteaders had already lost their homes, livestock and crops, now they were expected to appease Endelyn’s gods with tributes and sacrifices. Within a couple of moons, she’ll be the wealthiest person in the tribe.

When the Long Hut was almost cleared, Ren and I left to pack our gear. I told him about my lack of equipment and the dear man gave me one of his knives. The blade was the sharpest I’d ever known. He must have spent a great deal of time smoothing the edges with a whetstone. He’s such a thoughtful man.

Clutching the sheathed knife to my chest, I hurried back to my hut to rouse the others. Vina looked excited at the prospects of travelling to the mining settlement at Bentewyn, until I told her that she was to remain behind.

“But why? How am I supposed to learn anything if you keep leaving me alone all the time?”

“You’ll have to learn through trial and error. There’s nothing you can’t handle. Go further afield to gather alder for the lice infested homesteaders, blackthorn bark to stop the squits, the flowers to make them go, and if the loud red head from the weaver women goes into labour, fetch Cryda or the priestess. They’ll know what to do.” I bundled the last of my plantain paste and the poppy resin into my bag, along with my bone needles and Ren’s blade. When I looked up, Vina was pulling a face.

“There’ll be no arguments, my girl. You have to stay here, especially since your cousin will arrive soon and she’ll need a friend.” I thought that would appease her, but her frown deepened until her face was fully screwed up. “I don’t care if you like her or not, she’ll need your help to settle into our ways.”

“You mean the camp kids will spit at her too.” Vina sulked.

“I mean that you have a chance to win favour with someone who will have great power in the tribe. If I were you, I’d take all the opportunities I could.”

She was relentless. Her hands flew to her hips in a defiant posture. “What about him?” She nodded at Kewri lying on his bunk. “I suppose he gets to go?”

“You do realise that we are going into a blind battle here, don’t you? Either one of us, or all of us could end up dead. This is not some happy pilgrimage to a sacred spot, there’ll be no feasting nor carousing, just blood and death and maybe worse.” It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it did shut her up for the rest of the night. By dawn, Kewri, Ren and I stood at the southern gates, waiting for Massen to direct us into the row boats, and from there to the ships in the estuary.

Some of the Sea Warriors volunteered to ride with the Hunters, giving us more room for provisions and weapons in the two remaining ships. With all the tribal turmoil over the last few moons, there had been no time to build new vessels to replace those smaller crafts lost in our fight against the Novantae.

As soon as we were out in the bay, the cool sea air revived us. Ren urged me to cover my skin as the mid-morning sun burnt off the haze and beat down on us from high. Despite my reluctance, I did so, knowing that his experience of sailing spanned more summers than could be counted. For most of our journey along the coastline to the west, I stayed beneath the shade of a canopy at the stern. Kewri paid no heed to the warning, and my mid-afternoon, his nose and cheeks were crimson and sore.

Sometimes I forgot how fortunate we were that Tallack was in a position to trade tin for this fine Phoenician craft. It was far beyond anything that our tribe could create, indeed it was superior to any other vessel in the land. We sped through the choppy waves all afternoon, leaving the crew on the second boat trailing in our wake.

Ren was at his usual post, steering a true course while exploiting the prevailing winds to the fullest. “Not long now.” He said, when I woke from a much-needed snooze. It all seemed like a relaxing day out on the sea, rather than the solemn purpose that lay at our journey’s end. None of the warriors were fired up for battle. They sat smoking and chatting, sharpening blades or checking the birch tar and twine holding their arrow heads and feathers to the shafts had not melted in the heat.

The sun was low in the sky when we drew close to land. The