The Red And Savage Tongue (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) (16 page)

     He placed the two staves on either side of the fractured leg and took a sodden, buckskin jerkin from the pack he carried on his pony. This he cut into long, thin strips, which he tied together to make a strong ribbon-like rope. He bound this as tightly as he could around the staves, thus securing Murdoc’s leg in a tight cocoon.
‘When the leather dries it will tighten further,’ he said. ‘The pain should ease a little now’

    
‘Leave me a minute’ whispered Murdoc, drained by the ordeal, ‘I need a little time to get stronger.’

     Dominic looked up at the turbulent skies, and shielded them as much as he could by holding his sodden cloak above them.
‘As you wish,’ he said as the rain needled onto the cloak, ‘but we must get back to the camp and out of this weather if we are not to die like rats in a ditch.’

     Murdoc looked up at the underbelly of Dominic’s pony and wondered how in the name of the Christ Saviour he was ever going to get on its back without passing out.

After Murdoc and Dominic had left to chase Cissa and Egbert, the others had inherited the problem of the bear. The animal had fed well on
Hereward, and was now stretching up the side of the pit with its snout only feet from the rim. Withred and Simon had ushered Martha, Tomas and Ceola into the hut and instructed them to stay there with the door secured.

     Back at the pit, Simon peered cautiously over the edge and could see that the bear had eaten its fill and now wanted to be away.
‘We can’t leave the animal in the pit,’ he said. ‘I would rather
we
release it if possible, better that than chance it gets out itself and take us unawares.’

    
‘Now’s the time then,’ said Withred. ‘It shouldn’t be hungry now, so it might not see us as its next meal.’

     Simon looked towards the hut.
‘Would it not be better that we kill it? There are spears in there.’

      Withred shook his head.
‘That could get messy and dangerous. Its hide is damn thick, and it would take much of the morning to kill it I reckon.’

    
‘Then we must free it and hope it leaves us. That seems to be the easiest choice.’

    
‘I think I know what Dominic intended,’ said Withred. ‘Over there’s the branch he left for the bear to get out of the pit. I’m afraid he left the problem with us.’

     Simon stretched
taking the kink out of his back. ‘Let’s get on with it then, I’ll help you with the branch.’

     Together they pushed the heavy branch by its severed end to the edge of the pit until it overhung the drop.

     ‘When I count to three, push hard so that it drops over the edge, and then run for cover,’ said Withred. ‘One…two…three!’

     They pushed until the bough p
ivoted then dropped over. They ran to the hut and stood by the door.

     Simon knocked on the door.
‘Martha, Ceola, Tomas,’ he urged, ‘stay inside, we are freeing the bear.’ 

     Tomas’s head appeared at the window gap beside the door, his eyes big and fearful, while Martha cradled Ceola in her arms, speaking to her softly and reassuringly.

     They waited and nothing happened for a while. Standing outside, Withred had his hand on the door of the hut, ready to push Simon inside and follow him, should things go badly.

     Soon though, the bear’s head appeared and then its body as it jumped effortlessly out of the pit. It stood hunche
d, looking around the square—its bloody muzzle sniffing the air. It turned to observe Withred and Simon.

     Withred, conscious that it could be on them in three bounds, pushed open the hut door slightly and shot a warning look at Simon.
‘I’ve no wish to have my flesh mixing with Hereward’s inside its belly,’ he whispered. ‘Be ready to move inside with the others.’

     The
bear continued to look at them—its nose twitching as it took in their scent. Then, seeming to lose interest, it turned and swaggered across the clearing. After nosing around the debris on the edge of the encampment, it again focused its gaze on Simon and Withred.  Then it turned and swaggered slowly into the forest.

     Withred looked at Simon and began to laugh as he saw how the old man was shaking. Simon,
now flooded with relief, laughed along with him as their tension eased.

     Later that afternoon they covered
Hereward’s remains with more branches and vegetation, then filled the pit in with soil and leaf litter from the forest floor.

They spent the next two days inside, as the heavy rains caused a torrent to flow across the clearing and into the swollen stream beyond.

     Martha looked worried. ‘This will not help Dominic and Murdoc,’ she said. ‘I hope they return soon with good news.’

     Simon sat in the open doorway watching the grey curtain of rain sweep across the square.
‘I don’t envy them exposed in the forest having to track and chase. I’ve not seen such a storm for many years.’

     Withred stood behind Simon, his hands on the old man’s shoulders as he observed the deluge.
‘If you’ve to be caught in such filthy weather then try to arrange you’ve Dominic with you. He must have survived many years and many storms in this forest.’ He turned and smiled at Martha who was standing at the window opening with Ceola in her arms. ‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured, ‘they will return safely.’

    
‘It’s the first day since we left our own village that it’s rained,’ said Martha. ‘I hope the ground can take the deluge.’

     At the mention of the village, Withred averted his gaze back to the clearing.

     His discomfort was not lost on Martha who said quietly, ‘It was fortunate that we escaped. Fortunate that Simon had the courage to risk his life. Who knows who would have gone into the hut for sport that day?’

     Withred looked at Martha, his eyes troubled and intense.
‘I would not have gone in, you must believe that.’

     ‘Why no
t?’ said Martha, suddenly angry—her tone now causing Simon to turn and look. ‘Why not Withred? Are you not a savage like them? Were you not loyal to this Osric you speak about—one of his trusted ones?’

     Withred lowered his head, unable t
o meet Martha’s blistering gaze. His voice was hollow, scarcely above a whisper. ‘Yes I was loyal to him once, but no more.’

     Martha
, her fury rising, took Withred by the shoulders and shook him. He reluctantly looked at her. ‘Answer my question?’ Are you not a savage like them, and would you not have gone into the hut?’

    
‘He would not have gone into the hut.’ Tomas’s intervention was unexpected and stunned the room to silence, so that all turned to him. ‘He would not have gone into the hut, I know because I was also on the raids—you forget that. I saw what happened and he never went into the huts.’

    
Martha let go of Withred and turned her head away as her tears came. ‘Why did you ride with them then? How could you do that?’

    
‘Many things lead us to what we become,’ said Withred, his tone intense. ‘We’ve spoken of this before, and I’ll try to answer your questions, even though the answers must be hard to accept. I kept Egbert off you as much as I could. As for my loyalty to Osric, it’s true I was one of those who swore to die for him—a Gedriht—but I’ve renounced the oath. I’ve no wish to take part in the bloodletting of defenceless people.’ There was a brief silence, before Withred, spoke again: ‘Martha,’ he said quietly.     

    
She looked at him.

    
‘I saw you escape from the hut, and I let it happen. You can believe that or not, but it’s the truth, I swear.’

     
Martha put her hand to her mouth—her eyes shut tight as she wept. She turned to Withred, placing her other hand on his arm, unable to speak. Withred’s expression was intense and earnest when he said, ‘Whatever my sins, I’ll make amends. For the rest of my life, I assure you, I’ll make amends.’

     Simon got slowly to his feet, and p
ut his arms around Martha. ‘Fate indeed leads us down a twisted trail,’ he said, ‘and it could be argued that we’ve no choice over what we become in life.’ He smiled and surveyed the hut. ‘Who would have thought that this odd group of people would be standing together in a Roman hut in the middle of a wild forest this day. What matters now is that we are all alive, and all together fighting for each other.’

     A noise came from outside, interrupting them. Tomas went to the window opening, and peered out.
‘Its Dominic and Murdoc—they’re back!’ he shouted, as he ran out into the pelting rain.

After escaping the camp, Egbert and Cissa had travelled as fast as the terrain would allow. Living on their nerves, they frequently glanced behind, expecting to see their pursuers appear at any moment. Cissa had removed the arrow from Egbert’s thigh, the projectile having merely glanced through a layer of fat. After this, they had attempted to leave the track and enter into the thick undergrowth, hoping to lose the chase, but after a period of tortured progress, fighting through the ensnaring shrubbery, they had returned to the easier passage of the track.

     When nightfall came they were glad to rest, but they slept hardly at all. At first light, fearful that the others might come upon them, they were on their way, eager to steal
extra miles on the Britons.

     As the rain began to fall, their progress slowed, and they spurred their mounts as fast as
they dared, but in their haste, they missed the side trail they had used on their outward journey, and so continued along the track. The pass around the steep valley side was already beginning to erode, and they looked to the sky for their God’s help as they saw that great bites of the path had fallen into the depths of the valley. Again, the Gods were benevolent, and they emerged from the shadow of the pass without mishap.

     After that, the path descended steeply into the forest
, and they made slow progress on its greasy surface for the rest of the day. Two more days of hard riding passed without encounter, before they eased their progress and dared to hope they had beaten the pursuit.

     A further three days brought them to the edge of the forest where it met the sea. Here, the water mirrored the dull grey of the sky
—the scene monochromic in contrast to the rich verdant palette of the woodlands. They purposed now to head southwards, as this would lead them to Camulodunum and Osric.

    
As they picked their way along the rocky shoreline, the barnacle encrusted boulders made their passage slow and difficult. Evening fell, and they dismounted and sat looking out to sea, watching and listening as the languid waves rattled the shingles on the foreshore.

     Cissa looked nervously around.
‘We need to rest but we’re too exposed here.’ He looked up the shore towards low cliffs a distance from the water line. ‘Maybe we could find a cave in the cliffs and make a fire.’

     Egbert sighed as he sl
owly raised himself to his feet and grabbed his pony’s halter. ‘I think you’re determined to make me as thin as you are crow. If you must—’

     He stopped, his blood frozen, as a wolf howled, causing Cissa to cower under his pony’s belly. Egbert’s first thought was of Dominic,
so he stood behind his pony, the sea at his back—the beast acting as a shield.

     Cissa for his part peered from under his pony in the direction of the ho
wl. A grey blur in the distance, along the beach, confirmed his worst fears and set him in a panic. ‘We must get our backs to the cliff. Wolves have been following us—real wolves—not the wolf-man we saw in the forest.’

     Egbert swung onto his pony, and looked at Cissa with disdain.
‘Then get on your feet man. Make yourself big on your mount. They will soon leave to search for easier prey.’

     Cissa readily complied and nimbly sprung upon his pony. His legs splayed out as he roughly heeled the beast’s ribcage, forcing it to gallop towards the
distant cliff face, followed by Egbert.

     Cissa reached the crag first and looked frantically for a way up to the higher ground above. Seeing no route, he reined his pony round to face the approaching Egbert.
‘We’re trapped, and look! The wolves have followed us, and their number is great.’ His head bobbed up and down as he counted. ‘I count fifteen … by Erce’s breasts!  I count fifteen Egbert!’

     Egbert turned and saw them; a scrawny but bold
pack that had strung out and cautiously approached them. He jerked savagely on his pony’s halter as it skittered nervously beneath him. His eyes darted to the wolves, then to Cissa. ‘They’ll not attack us, we’re too big and too much trouble.’

    
‘Then why do they still come?’ asked Cissa shakily. ‘Why are they so interested in us? They must have been watching us for hours.’

    
‘We’ve dealt with wolves before,’ said Egbert. ‘Even if they are hungry enough to come close, a few kicks from the ponies will see them off.’