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

performance was immaculate, even managing to make his voice break in the middle of his eulogy. For all his feigned emotion, his eyes were dry. Perhaps I was being too harsh on him. People deal with sorrow in such different ways.

I scrutinised the faces of the men in search of any signs of disbelief. Not one of them suspected my nephew of foul play. Aebba the Wild would be ashamed of his son if he were still alive. He may have been idle and dissolute but he was honest until his last breath. Tallack stepped forward and lit the kindling at the farthest end of the pyre, before retreating from the high flames as they licked the greased poles to the top platform of swaddled bodies. The heat was fierce, driving us all backwards until the sea breeze cooled our backs.

Ren and Tallack kicked a comfy depression in the sand and sat, encouraging others to join them. I watched the men gather, wondering if the invitation extended to me. I loitered for a time, but this was a place of mourning and remembrance traditionally held for men alone.

Tallack looked up at me and patted the sand at his side. My heart almost thumped out of my chest in surprise. It was a long time since he’d graced me with his favour, apart from false praise over my skill with a hot blade. All anger over his dishonesty vanished; such was my elation. As I struggled to fold my legs and lower myself down, he put his arm about my shoulders and hugged me close.

“Shall we stay here to eat, Aunt? I’ll send someone to fetch the food down from the camp.”

I’m ashamed to admit that I beamed up at him and nodded, my eyes filling with grateful tears. This was how he always won. His charm was more deadly than any blade. Before long, we were all tucking into the roasted horse and a bowl of the stewed roots and leaves I’d harvested in the afternoon. It was not my favourite meat, though it was tender, almost sweet, it tasted too much like venison for my liking. Since the priestess sacrificed the white hart, my preferences had shifted somewhat. Still, I was hungry and food was in short supply.

Ren licked the juices from his fingers. “Bet old Kenver wishes he could have some of this.” He tore another chunk off the communal joint and crammed it into his mouth.

“He’s welcome to come out of hiding and join us.” Tallack grinned. “I’ll permit him a couple of mouthfuls before I run him through with a spear.”

The men chuckled and grunted their amusement. They seemed uneasy, laughing alongside the blazing pyre. Was it better to disrespect the fallen and titter at their leader or offend Tallack by remaining silent? The Chief sensed their apprehension and changed the topic. “The Alchemists should be running low on food by now. Another couple of days and they’ll be chewing on their shoe leather. If we leave the horses behind, we can sneak up the gorge on foot and capture them as they leave the tunnels for supplies.”

The warriors made agreeable noises in support of Tallack’s plan, but we could all see how it was flawed. Kenver would have enough food stored to last them for a number of moons. He had access to all our tin. The Alchemists could have signalled any passing foreign ship with which to trade grain, wines, and even exotic goods.

We were more likely to starve than his men. As the night wore on, I couldn’t stop myself wondering about the children and womenfolk. Surely Kenver did not have them tucked away in the tunnels all this time too, and if not, where were they?

It bothered me for the rest of the night. When the pyre burned low, Ren and I walked back to the huts. Some of the torches marking the path back to camp sputtered and fizzled out, leaving us to step cautiously for fear of falling into the river. Our hut was the easiest to spot in the dark. It was far larger than the others, having once belonged to Kenver and his whole family at one point.

I looked at the perfect thatch in the moonlight. “Why do you suppose the miners left this entire camp in pristine condition? If you were Kenver, wouldn’t you trash the place before retreating to the mines?”

Ren scratched his chin thinking. His gaze followed mine, taking in the state of the huts and shelters all around us. “Hmm.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t have time. Perhaps their scouts saw our sails and they had to make a run for it at the last moment.” He ducked under the door frame and started flinging off his clothes. That was a lame excuse but the more I pressed him, the more determined he was to shut me up, clamping his lips over mine until I could hardly breathe.

I was still thinking about it in the morning when we woke. I took the water jug and began the walk to the spring up the adjoining valley. Senara was waiting for Tallack outside his hut, out of breath and eager to divulge information. I was so pleased to see her, I dropped the jug to the grass and embraced her.

“Thank the gods you are alive. I’ve been out of my wits with worry.”

Senara blushed, but being the good-natured woman I know her to be, she hugged me back. “You know me, Fur Benyn. Slippery as an eel in pork fat and twice as cunning.” She grinned, tucking my head under her chin.

Tallack heard us and came outside. “What news do you bring?” He pushed us both through the door, away from the warriors’ hearing.

Senara cuffed her nose and looked at each of us in turn. “I um… saw the ambush yesterday, and I’m sorry for what happened. I wasn’t able to stop them.” Her gaze fell to the floor as she adjusted the straps