Pagan Death (Tribes of Britain Book 1), page 8
The baskets laid beneath the top table filled quickly. Families from outside the compound walked for near half the day to pay their dues and ask the gods to take care of their fallen leader.
As the daylight began to fail, I remembered my equipment left at the riverbank. Weary, and with a heavy heart, I rinsed my shears and cleaning cloths in the waters, knowing that I would need my sharpest knife, and a strong stomach for the next phase of Aebba’s preparation. Resting my aching back, I stretched my spine and wandered up the bank towards the Long Hut. With my tools wrapped and stowed in a pocket of my tunic, I headed back towards home.
From my position, I spotted Eseld wagging her finger at the slave who butchers our carcasses. He nodded at her, as contrite and servile as one of my herd. Curious, I dried my hands on my clothes and wandered closer to listen, but by the time I was close enough to hear, Eseld had marched away. The poor slave looked beaten.
“Ho there.” I called to him. “What ails the lady?”
He looked at me with a frustrated air about him. I could see that he thought her request a poor idea by his pinched expression. “She demanded that all the meats and stews be thrown to the dogs. She said they are spoiled. We are to butcher more animals for a feast.”
“A feast? You mean in mourning rites for Aebba’s passing? But is it not too late in the day for that?”
“No, Fur Benyn. A feast in celebration for the new Chieftain. Paega is to be pronounced this night.”
CHAPTER NINE
And thus, it begins. Poor Aebba barely cold, and the infighting and clan manoeuvring begins. The Priest Sect cannot be as far away as I first thought, if Paega can reach them on horseback and still return for his feast this eve. Their clan leader must have recovered quickly from the Duro’s raid on their camp. They must have barely had time to mourn for the loss of Eseld’s mother, before setting out for our compound. I must be more vigilant than ever, if I am to discover the murderer among such villains.
I changed direction and crossed the boardwalks to Cryda’s hut. She saw my approach from the open doorway, and burst into fitful tears. The closer I got, the clearer my view of the person comforting her. Sitting beside Cryda on her large bunk, was the taller of the Ordo visitors. His arm draped casually over her shoulder while he shushed her. As I entered, Cryda shrugged his arm away, but my opinion had already formed.
“Cryda, I must speak with you alone.” I straightened up and glared at the Ordo. He took my meaning, patted her back and left her house. I waited until he was far enough away so that he could not hear me before I turned back to her. The tears were all noise and no substance. She felt little for her Chieftain’s death. “You cannot hide away in here. Eseld plans to announce Paega as Chieftain tonight. You must go and put a stop to this, or your sons will have no claim on the title.”
“What does it matter? Let her play her silly games. Blydh has always wanted to hang Paega’s head from his horse. The moment he returns, he will kill him and take the tribe for himself.”
“He will not get the chance. Paega has ridden off to fetch his grandfather. When their entire sect makes camp here, do you think you will survive long enough to see Blydh and Tallack’s return?” That made her sit up and think. “You must act now.” I urged, grabbing her arm to pull her to her feet.
“What do you suggest I do? I cannot stop the priests from coming here, they are still Dumnoni even if they choose to roam our lands and not settle.” The full enormity of the situation was, at last, starting to crystallise in her mind. With Eseld’s son named tribal Metern, and with the guidance of the powerful leader of the priests behind him, both she and Brea would find themselves banished at best, or sacrificed in the most brutal manner. Anyone opposing their views, would follow shortly after, and that would include me. I trawled through my memories in search of a solution.
“You must confront Eseld before her father arrives, and challenge the claim Paega has on the title. Don’t let them proclaim him undisputed Metern, or Eseld will claim a higher status as his mother, and your influence will vanish along with it. While Aebba’s body is above ground and unburned, you are still the most powerful woman in all of our lands.”
She paced the floor, allowing my suggestion to sink in. “Can I do that? Is it part of our custom for the mother of younger sons to make the challenge in their absence?”
“No one remembers the old ways. It pays to be a fur benyn, at times like these. I will back your claim, with every muscle and sinew. It’s fortunate that the priests know little of our laws. I have sent word to your boys to speed their return, but I fear that without this plan, they will lose their claim.” I slumped down on her bunk, exhausted and fretful.
“But both boys cannot become Metern. Who shall I put forward in challenge?”
I looked into those fair eyes and did not expect the genuine conflict. I thought that she and Aebba always favoured Tallack, but her knotted brow and panicked look, told me otherwise.
“I have a potential solution in mind.”
I told her my plan, leaving out much of the detail, for I judged her to be only half listening to my words at best. Before I left, I had one last piece of advice. “I know not whether the child you carry is Aebba’s, or that fat calved Ordo’s, but you’d do well to distance yourself from him. He schemes with Eseld, and we all know her motives and designs.” I walked from her hut before she could respond. One thing I drew from our discussion which swelled my spirits higher was that she would not have placed herself or her boys in peril by murdering Aebba. Her life would have continued to flourish under his power. While I cannot rule her out entirely, it is in my best interests to see that Paega does not rise to Metern.
I dragged myself back to my hut to check up on Jago and the girl. Smoke billowed into the sky from the rendered fats as the slaves of the Long Hut yielded to Eseld’s new instructions. The Frynkish girl brought me a bowl of hot water to scrub myself of muck from Aebba’s ritual cleanse, and help me to dress in my best tunic. Jago laid out my knives for inspection. He made a fine job of the blades. He even added fresh binding and birch pitch to better secure the handles.
“I saw the bone comb you made for Gwyn over at the roasting pits.” I watched him flutter his lashes and bow his head. “You’re a sly one.” I grinned at his show of innocence. “How many other slave girls have finely carved dolphin pieces from you?”
He hopped backwards, dipping his injured ankle to the floor to regain his balance. “Only her, Fur Benyn. I didn’t think you would mind.”
I passed him his crutch. “You have a fancy to tempt Gwyn under your furs?”
His face took on quite a glow, his rich dark skin shone in the light from my fires. “I heard that she makes the tastiest squirrel broth of all the slaves.”
I could not help but cackle. His interest in her stemmed from his stomach, and not his pintel. At the time, I thought how unusual for a young man, that is, until I saw the way he stared at the Frynkish girl. She was shapelier and far prettier than Gwyn, and her bedding much closer to his. That’s all I need, a pair of rutting slaves a few feet from my bunk while I try to sleep. I will have to think up a new arrangement for them, and soon.
“You have great skill with a knife. Makes me fearful to sleep in the same hut as you.” I squinted at him, assessing his reaction.
His face fell into one of shock. “I would never hurt you, great lady, you must know that? You saved me from a far worse fate, and could still send me to the mines or have me killed.” I deemed him sincere, although I have little trust for the girl. I will sleep with my knife wrap beneath my fleece bedding from now on.
“You liked the razor clams you had for supper last eve?”
He nodded.
“Does the big crab still live?” I asked of him.
“Just, he sits in the water I gave him and no longer struggles.”
“Then boil him up for your supper. Get the girl to pick you some fresh leaves to go with it. Should make you both a fair meal. I will take my fill at the Long Hut this night.” With my cloak wrapped tightly about me, I trudged the boards over to the feast. Fighting through the last of the elders making tribute, I squeezed in and slipped around the benches until I neared the top table. In all my distraction, I had failed to notice Paega’s return.
There he was, sitting in Aebba’s seat, in his best leather tunic and bronze plate, as though ready for war. Eseld gloated from one side, his grandfather flanking the other. I scanned the crowds, looking for a sign of Cryda. She was late as usual, and this was one time when she really ought not to be. I could not make a stand without her authority.
Flushed with fury, I approached the top table to listen to their discussion. Paega sat looking over the corpse of his dead father, holding Aebba’s massive bronze sword across his lap. I wanted to scratch out his eyes and feed him to the pigs, but calm I remained.
Fixing my attention on their mouths, I was able to hear most of their words. The priest made comments about the quantity of metal adorning the women in camp, calling it a waste of resources.
Eseld agreed with him. “We should send word to the alchemists down at the mine to step up extraction and processing.”
Her father grunted. “And you should order bigger boats to be built, and more of them, if you expect to trade further afield. That is how you build an empire. Not like that addled Metern you called a husband, he pissed away more wealth than he made.”
“I’ll see to it, father.” I watched her pull the beads of silver from her hair and tuck them into her robes.
His shaved head, speckled with coloured daubs and raised scarring gave him quite the look of a mangy dog, except for his hooked nose. Altogether, he was a terrifying sight. Stories of his protracted sacrificial rituals were told at the bedsides of every child in the tribe. His father before him, was even more savage. Eseld came from brutal stock. I slipped closer.
“And another thing, your brother should lead the horse warriors from now on. We will need to think of a way to stymie young Blydh. He grows too popular among the distant settlements. Families throughout our route here had nothing but praise for the boy. You must think of something to put him in his place.”
“Yes father.”
I had heard more than I could stomach. Pushing back through the wailing woman of the elders, past Brea and the slaves, I went in search of the Ruvane. Before I could make my way through the doorway, a tap on my shoulder made me spin about. Gwyn carried a pot of stew in a long route about the space, taking the opportunity to speak with me.
“Fur Benyn, I did see something last eve. If it please you, I shall come to your hut later, when the moon is past peak and tell you all.” She hurried away before I could thank her for the bravery she had shown. That was when I saw the narrow-eyed snarl of Eseld, glaring at us. It wouldn’t do at all to go after Gwyn and warn her to take care. I guessed that she would already know the dangers, but had need for my inducement of tin ingots.
Distracted from my mission, I began my search anew. As I heaved and shoved to get through the doorway, the crowd parted, allowing the Ruvane Cryda her spectacular entrance. Dressed head to toe in a new tunic and cloak, dyed the deepest blue to match Aebba’s shroud, she floated into the Long Hut and took flowers and clay bead tributes from her tribesmen. Her beauty was arresting, and fair dazzled the eyes of the elders who looked upon her, their love for her undiminished.
She took the longest route imaginable to the top table, allowing her followers to express their sorrow for her loss, and the young girls to touch her braided hair as she swept past. Finally, she reached Aebba’s chair, and stood before the upstart Paega.
“You sit in my husband’s chair before his death rites are even begun? You insult our Metern and the gods.” She said, with an army of elders at her shoulders and back.
Paega glanced up at his mother, who looked at her feet, and then at his grandfather who nodded with resigned affectation. Still the stubborn child refused to budge.
“Get up, child, or fear the wrath of your father curse you for all time.” Cryda was remarkably forceful in her rebuke. Paega shot out of the chair and stood against his mother for support. Cryda was not done mocking him. “The sword, child. Return it to its rightful place.”
“But…” Paega began.
Eseld had the sense to shush him and urge his cooperation. Paega clanged the weapon across the great axe and huffed a disgruntled sigh.
“We will observe the death customs for now, Cryda.” Eseld piped up. “But Paega will be named Metern thereafter.”
“You assume too much. My sons have equal right to the Chieftain title over the Dumnonii, more so perhaps, since my blood is that of the Canti’s Metern. Your lowly birth should pitch Paega from the claim entirely.” She turned and smiled at the elders and their families. Each of them murmured in support, but would not make eye contact with the priest, for fear of his powerful connections with the underworld.
“Your sons are not here to make their claim, if they even had a right to do so. By all our laws, they are forfeit, and Paega shall rule, and rule well, for he is the true heir.”
Cryda looked to me to wade in and save her. I took a breath, and stood forward. “That is not our law at all.” I gestured to the elders around us. “Had you been born among the fine families here, you would know that, Eseld. Our customs go back to a time before your priests came to these lands, with their new rituals and barbarous ways. Not only is it a right of the Ruvane to put forward her children in succession of their father, she bears the responsibilities of the entire tribe until the next Metern is found. While Aebba remains above ground, our Ruvane leads the tribe.” I heard the old priest scoff, until he was fixed with the bravest of the elders’ stares. It gave me courage to go on with my ruse. “My mother’s mother, told me of a time when the Metern died leaving many heirs, just like this day. In such a case, those who have a claim on the title, must prove themselves worthy. At Beltane equinox, each of them will undertake a challenge of endurance. I will set it out to all three young men, when each of them returns and are together.”
There was a chorus of elders behind me, muttering among themselves, until one voice shouted above the rest. “Yes, I confirm that was the case.”
And another said, “Aye, I heard that tale too.”
Others began to speak out with, “Me too…” and several muttering, “And me.”
It was enough to gain all their support against Eseld and her lethal kin. They could not put all of us to death, although I am sure the old devil thought it a possibility. The priest’s black look near turned my innards to water, but I held firm against his unspoken threats. In the moments of silence, while Eseld considered her options, I caught sight of the Ordo’s grinning from the guest seats at the side of the top table. I threw them a wicked glare and wished them both far from here, with their knack for stirring up trouble.
Eseld stepped down from the high benches and approached the Ruvane. “You think you are so smart, don’t you? You get a couple of wrinkled old-timers to fight your battles and you think you have won. Paega will be Metern, and then you’ll be sorry. He will wipe the floor with your boys. He brought down the biggest Auroch the world has ever seen, when he came of age.”
“My boys were there at the time and told me all about it. Your son cheated. Tallack injured the beast and Paega took the credit for finishing him off. Hardly a fair trial, Eseld. We all know the boy to be weaker than the ale he sups. Especially since everyone knows that you still water it down for him.”
There was an unfettered roar of laughter, so loud in fact, that it nearly shook the rafters. Eseld inflated her chest, pursing her lips in wild fury. With her arm crossing her body, she swung the back of her fist clean into Cryda’s face. The sound of bones crunching, and blood spattering shocked everyone into silence. For that frozen moment in time, Cryda recoiled grasping at her broken nose and gasping in breaths. In all our long history, no one has ever had cause or courage to strike out at a Ruvane. A collective gasp unified the tribe. Barring the smirk on Paega and the priest’s faces, all who looked on, were horrified and powerless to help.
Cryda came to her senses. Her fists balled up, her right foot slid back, and with one colossal lurch, she delivered a punch to Eseld’s jaw that would fell an ox. By the time the crowds had caught up with events, Cryda and Eseld were tearing at each other’s hair, scratching, biting and kicking out in a scrap that look set to go on all night. A chant rippled out from the back of the hall in support of the Ruvane, her name yelled over and over in a mesmeric rhythm. Elders pushed back their wives and offspring to make space on the floor, as tangled limbs flew out in all directions.
Cryda was tall and wiry, but Eseld had the greater muscle mass. As Cryda wrapped her arm about Eseld’s neck and held her in a headlock, she checked her with a powerful blow to the small of the back. Cryda groaned, doubling over in terrible pain and loosening her grip. Eseld wriggled free, and bent low to scoop up the material of her long skirt. Strapped to her leg was a dagger suspended in a scabbard. With lightning reactions, she grabbed Cryda by the hair and yanked her head backwards to reveal the length of unguarded neck. In slow and deliberate movements, Eseld revelled in her victory, drawing the blade ever closer to Cryda’s throat.
CHAPTER TEN
The gasps in the Long Hut were accompanied by a frozen look of horror from all tribal elders and their families. Only Paega and his grandfather seemed to enjoy the turn of affairs. Eseld held Cryda at her mercy, poised to deliver her to the underworld, kicking and gurgling in her own spilled blood.
“Don’t do it, Eseld.” I took a step closer to them, trying to get close enough to take a firm hold of Eseld’s blade. “You will begin a war of revenge that you cannot win. Every clan in our tribe loves and respects Cryda. Do you want to bring about such infighting that it marks the end of the Dumnonii?”
She looked to be considering my statement, her hand moving further from Cryda’s neck as she glanced at each of the elders in turn.
