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

Ren didn’t come back to the hut until the following morning. I didn’t go looking for him since I’d guessed where he’d spent the night. The Sea Warriors had customs of their own whenever they lost good men. Women were not welcome. From the stories I’d heard over the course of my long life, their rituals involved a night on the beach around a fire, singing dead men’s tales to the Goddess of the Sea.

When the moon was at its peak, they would wade out into the ocean until their faces were all but submerged. Some say that they would float offerings of figures woven from marram grass to trick the goddess into releasing the bodies of the fallen from the waves.

Others said that in the darkness, no one could see the salty tears of the men mixing with the brine of the sea. Whichever account was true, the passing of their clan’s folk was a private affair and those who were dead did not drown. Perhaps their customs were different under these circumstances, but I was unlikely to ever find out for sure. The clans were guarded about their practices, their secrets binding them together as kin.

Tallack stayed on the beach for much longer. Perhaps he had more to say to the goddess than the rest. It was, after all, his decision that got them killed. For all his recent stoic detachment, I refused to believe that he’d lost all compassion.

In accordance with Ren’s admonishment, I informed him of my need to walk the long valley adjacent to the gorge in search of food, herbs and bark.

He nodded at me and climbed into our bunk. “Don’t go alone. Take Kewri with you.” He demanded, before turning his back to me as I stood in the doorway. I could have argued, or ignored him, but I could see that he was beaten. The night of mourning had knocked the spirit right out of him.

“I’ll fill the water bladders up on the way back.” I muttered, grabbing both his and mine as I left.

It was good to get away from the odour of men in the camp. They cared not about washing, and had a habit of emptying their bladders and bowels wherever they fancied. Tallack did little about enforcing the use of middens or making them walk into the wooded areas to keep the main camp clean. The more the warriors were left without the influence of their women, the more squalid they became.

The valley where the Alchemists harvested their wood, was shallow and bright. This provided all the timber needed for processing the raw rocks into tin and for structural support for the mines. The mature trees were well spaced, giving us dappled shade as we walked next to the river.

It certainly looked more inviting than the last time I saw it back in the winter. The trails were even starting to overgrow despite the dry spell. The one thing that struck me most, was that the entire valley, which had been bustling with activity before, was now completely deserted. There were no washer women pounding grubby linen on the rocks, no children swinging on the overhanging trees and splashing into the water, no leather scrapers or smoke huts, nothing.

Kewri held open my bag as I cut some willow bark, picked a little sorrel and found a marshy area where fresh watercress grew.

“Are there any mines in this valley, Fur Benyn, or are they all in the gorge?” Kewri asked, keeping a weather eye on our surroundings as he spoke.

I straightened up, clicking my spine and neck before trimming off the soggy roots from the cress. “I believe all the working tunnels are in the gorge, but you can never tell where the old passages are. Kenver’s ancestors have mined these parts for generations. Seams play out and they block up tunnels, then go in search of new ones to dig. Only his family knows them all.”

Kewri looked down at me, those huge dark eyes of his full of fear. “There’s just him and his young son left now. He could be the only one who knows all the tunnels and how they connect.”

I pondered on the age and abilities of the Alchemist leader’s youngest child and decided that he’d be too young to pose us any problems. My mind strayed to Kenver’s family and how happy they’d been just two seasons ago. How quickly things can change in the span of a few moons. I glanced back downstream and sighed. Where were the children and womenfolk? There was no sign of them in the gorge when we were under attack. I couldn’t imagine them tolerating conditions underground for all this time.

For a while, we walked further upstream following the sweeping meander in the river. Kewri managed to hit a couple of ducks with arrows, although one he had to get wet to retrieve. At least we could return to our huts with something for supper. By late afternoon, we’d harvested all we could find and began the slow walk to the freshwater spring on our way home.

The sweat poured down my back, soaking through my tunic and cloak. I stopped for a moment, handing my healing kit and gathering bag to Kewri while I stripped off a layer or two. Grunting with effort, I knelt on the bank side and dipped my hand into the cool water. It was so soothing, I pulled out a cloth from my pocket, dunked it into the river and wiped it all about my face and neck. After a quick rinse, I offered to do the same for my giant friend.

He declined my gesture. “Thanks anyway. It’ll only make me want to jump in the river for the rest of the day. Better to sweat it out till we get back.”

I shrugged, wringing out my cloth and giving