The Beauty of Destruction (37 page)

‘What treachery is this?’ Tangwen demanded, her hatchet in her right hand now. There was the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn from a scabbard.

‘Stop!’ Calgacus shouted, in a rough approximation of the southern tongue. There was sufficient command in his voice that even Bladud gave pause. The Cait
cateran
stepped back as one and drew weapons.

‘Translate for me,’ Calgacus all but snapped at Britha.

‘Cal …’ she started.

‘Now!’ This time he
had
snapped. Britha was more than a little taken aback. He turned to look at Bladud. ‘You have come into my encampment, you have sought to take my guests, you have laid hands on a
dryw
!’ This last he almost screamed. ‘Are you declaring war?’ he demanded. Britha translated. Calgacus pointed at the amassed Brigante and Trinovantes. ‘Have you grown tired of these? Do you wish to see what they look like on the inside? Do you wish to see them as food for the wolves and the ravens?’

One of the Brigante, a large but fat warrior, looked contemptuously at Calgacus and spat. One of the Cait broke his nose with the pommel of his sword. Then Britha knew that it was over. Now they would fight each other.

‘Stop!’ Calgacus shouted. He pointed at the warrior who had struck the blow. ‘You kill them when I tell you to. You will be punished by me and you will pay compensation to that man.’ Britha was still translating for him. Bladud’s face was a mask of stone as Calgacus turned back to face him. ‘Are we at war?’ the Pecht asked.

It was only then that Britha realised that Calgacus, who had always seemed belligerent and warlike to her, was a lot cannier than he seemed. The last thing the Cait
mormaer
wanted was war with Bladud, now anyway, but this violation of his hospitality could not be allowed to stand. He had no choice but to retaliate. Laying hands on a
dryw
while she was under his hospitality was a grave insult. It was effectively an attack on the Cait.

‘You are in my camp …’ Bladud started. Britha translated.

‘No!’ Calgacus cried. ‘No more words. I asked you a question. If this is war then do not come slithering in here on your belly like one of them.’ He gestured at the Corpse People present.

‘Watch your tongue, northerner,’ Madawg spat. Calgacus didn’t even look at him and Britha didn’t bother to translate.

‘Draw a sword and go to work, if that is your wish!’ Calgacus told the Witch King. Britha could feel Bladud gripping her arm tighter and tighter, he was shaking with anger. Calgacus was playing a dangerous game here. It had all gone very quiet. Not even Guidgen seemed prepared to say anything in case he pushed Bladud too far.

‘I …’ Bladud swallowed hard. ‘… Apologise.’ he managed, speaking in the Pecht tongue, Britha now translating for the southrons present. He still hadn’t let go of her arm, neither had Garim.

Calgacus nodded. ‘Would you like to discuss whatever troubles you?’ he asked. Britha was aware of members of some of the other tribes present drifting in to hear what was happening. She saw Guidgen nod at one of the
gwyllion
who then turned and disappeared back into the crowd.

‘This woman …’ Bladud started.

‘You will have to unhand the
dryw
. We can’t have that,’ Calgacus said evenly.

‘You go too far, northerner,’ Bladud said. His voice was almost a whisper but it carried in the cold air.

‘I am not manhandling a
ban draoi
,’ Calgacus said. Britha translated. There were mutters of agreement.

‘She is no longer a …’ Bladud started. Calgacus held up his hand.

‘We can discuss this matter once things have been made right. If you do not agree then draw your sword.’ There were more than a few sharp intakes of breath from the assembled crowd. ‘In fact, let’s not waste your warriors’ lives. You have a grievance, you have wronged me, let’s you and I sort this. Draw your blade.’

‘Do you think I fear you?’ Bladud asked quietly.

‘No. You may even be a challenge, perhaps you will kill me.’ Then Calgacus smiled. ‘Why else would I be prepared to fight you?’ Britha finished translating and it went quiet. ‘Because we could do all the talking and posturing that seems to be so common. We could drip honeyed words, laced with venom, in each other’s ears, but when it comes down to it, you say a thing is one way, I say it is another, and when all else has failed there is one final way to decide which of us is right. Or are the laws different down here?’ Britha finished translating.

‘The laws are the same,’ Bladud acknowledged. There were nods from the crowd. Britha was aware of more of the
gwyllion
joining the crowd.

‘Then we fight,’ Calgacus said. ‘Or you take your hands from the
ban draoi
and you can drink my
uisge beatha
, as my guest at my fire.’

Bladud let go of her arm.

‘I am sorry that you feel wronged,’ Bladud said. Calgacus nodded to his people, who stepped away from the Brigante and Trinovantes warriors and sheathed their weapons, but kept their hands on the hilts of their swords. Calgacus gestured Bladud towards his fire. ‘I have my duties as
rhi
, as well.’ Bladud sat on one of the logs around the fire and Calgacus handed him an earthen jug with the fiery clear liquid in it. Britha shook Garim’s hand off her and went to stand on Calgacus’s left shoulder, on the other side of the
mormaer
from where Bladud sat.

‘But there is a right way to do things,’ Calgacus said. ‘There’s always the sword and brand when the time comes.’

‘I was tasked by Moren, arch
dryw
of Ynys Dywyll, to take Britha prisoner, to be delivered to him to be burned for her crimes.’

Calgacus nodded, playing the thoughtful
mormaer
. ‘And what has she been accused of?’ he asked.

‘She is guilty of murdering Nils, the previous arch
dryw
,’ Bladud told Calgacus, raising his voice slightly. There were more gasps and mutterings. Britha was aware of eyes on her. Anharad was staring at her with undisguised hatred. She saw Guidgen whispering urgently to those around him.

‘Guilty?’ Calgacus asked.

‘Aye, she was tried by Moren, who was forced to step into Nils’ position,’ Bladud continued. Britha could not help herself, she let out a snort of derision. ‘She was tried by the arch
dryw
.’

‘I see. This is grievous indeed.’ Calgacus glanced up at Britha. ‘Did you kill this man?’

‘Of course not,’ Britha said.

‘She was seen by the arch
dryw
himself,’ Bladud said. Calgacus was studying the Witch King as he spoke. This time he hadn’t raised his voice to make the accusation, though he was speaking in the language of the Pecht.

‘It was my warning cry that awoke Moren,’ said Britha. ‘I saw someone kneeling over Nils. I went to help the arch
dryw
, and whoever the figure was fled. I called for help. Moren made the accusation pretty much on the spot. A little while later Madawg came in the other door.’

‘What’s she saying?’ Madawg demanded, having heard his name among the words spoken in Pecht. ‘I have a right to know.’

‘She seeks to cast blame on good warriors—’ Ysgawyn started.

‘Piss breeks, you may not speak in this camp,’ Calgacus said. Britha translated, she saw Tangwen grin.

‘How convenient,’ Ysgawyn spat.

‘He will kill you,’ Britha warned him.

‘Can you prove that Madawg did it?’ Calgacus asked.

‘No more than they can that I did,’ Britha said.

‘Then do not cast aspersions. You’re better than that,’ Calgacus said evenly. Britha stared at the Cait
mormaer
. He might as well have slapped her. ‘I do not think that she did this,’ Calgacus told Bladud.

‘And I do not think that she is the person you once knew,’ Bladud said. ‘She ran because she feared the consequences.’

‘I ran because Nils’ death served Moren and yourself, and neither I or Guidgen could work out why you brought Madawg along with you.’

‘What is she saying?’ Madawg demanded.

‘She’s talking about how you murdered the arch
dryw
to profit his successor and Bladud,’ Tangwen said in her southern Pretani tongue. A language that enough of them could understand. Now all eyes were on Bladud. The Witch King glared at the huntress, who held his look. He turned away first.

‘Did you not learn your lesson?’ Madawg asked, leering at Tangwen, expecting the young woman, his defeated foe, to look away from him. She didn’t.

‘Tangwen, can you prove what you say?’ Calgacus demanded. The hunter stared at the Cait
mormaer
. ‘Then you should not be making such insinuations either.’ Tangwen looked unhappy but Britha noted that Calgacus had not interrupted her when she had raised suspicions about Madawg and the Witch King. She assumed that Bladud was under no illusions as to what was happening.

‘I was there as well,’ Guidgen started. Britha translated his words into the Pecht tongue for the Cait. ‘It is as Britha says.’

‘Prove it!’ Ysgawyn demanded. Calgacus stood up and punched him very hard. Madawg and Gwynn, the other surviving member of the Corpse People, went for their swords.

‘Enough!’ Bladud roared before turning on Calgacus. ‘The time for her to prove her innocence was on Ynys Dywyll!’ Britha translated. Calgacus sat back down again.

‘She would not have received a fair trial!’ Guidgen cried. ‘And when do we try you? And Madawg?’

‘Try it, old man!’ Madawg spat.

‘So you would harm a
dryw
?’ Tangwen asked loudly.

‘I have the right to a trial by combat,’ Britha said.

‘I will stand for the arch
dryw
, I will avenge Nils!’ Madawg cried.

‘You cannot fight a
dryw
,’ Guidgen said. There were a lot of muttered agreements.

‘She is no longer a
dryw
,’ Bladud said.

‘That is not a decision that Moren can make,’ Britha said, exasperated now. At best she saw this descending into shouting, at worst violence.

‘See!’ Madawg howled. ‘She would defy the arch
dryw
!’

‘I cast aside the protection of
ban draoi
! Let’s you and I fight!’ Britha screamed at Madawg. Almost immediately she knew she had let anger get the better of her. Calgacus was sitting quietly on his log looking at the fire, occasionally poking at it with a stick.

‘Britha, you are with child!’ Guidgen pointed out.

‘I will stand as her champion!’ Tangwen said quietly. It took a moment for her words to sink in, for the crowd to quieten down. Then mocking laughter filled the air.

‘A fight I have already won,’ Madawg finally said.

‘Then it will not prove a challenge to you,’ Tangwen said.

‘I do not think that this is a good idea—’ Calgacus started in Pecht.

‘No,’ Britha told the younger woman. Tangwen turned to look at the Pecht
dryw
.

‘I always welcome your counsel,
ban draoi
,’ Tangwen said, somewhat formally. ‘But I do not think that this is your decision to make.’

‘The time for trial by combat was at Ynys Dywyll—’ Bladud started.

‘She has the right to trial by combat and to a champion,’ Guidgen said, sounding resigned. ‘You know that is the case. If she is guilty then you have nothing to fear, Madawg will be triumphant.’ Britha translated for Calgacus, who was looking between Tangwen and Madawg.

‘This is foolish,’ Madawg said. ‘There is no need for a fight, the outcome is inevitable. I spared her once. She may as well kill herself and we can be about the arch
dryw
’s business.’

‘Then you have nothing to fear,’ Guidgen said again, though he sounded uneasy. Britha looked at Tangwen. The younger woman’s face was expressionless. If she feared Madawg it was well hidden.

‘Let me make this simple for you,’ Tangwen told Madawg. ‘I know, as the gods know, that you killed this Nils, and this will be proven when the gods judge you with my axe and knife.’

Madawg leant in towards Tangwen. Britha was aware of Tangwen recoiling slightly.

‘This … nonsense … this insult to honour, is what comes of warriors not being allowed to take their rightful spoils, of not properly breaking their defeated—’

Tangwen spat in his face. Madawg went quiet, his face turning red, eyes bulging. Tangwen had a wry smile on her face.

‘I will rape you as you lie dying!’ he screamed. ‘The last thing you will see is my f—’

‘You really are frightened of me, aren’t you?’ Tangwen said. Madawg stared at her. He seemed to have lost the ability to speak. He went for his sword.

‘No!’ Ysgawyn screamed. Madawg’s scream joined his master’s only to be cut off a moment later by a wet choking noise. Tangwen’s axe had bit into his knee. The slash that opened his throat had looked almost casual, though Britha knew how difficult it was to cut a throat. Usually you had to saw at it. It took a lot of force to do what Tangwen had just done. She had half-severed the Corpse People warrior’s head, with a dirk. Madawg staggered back, dripping red onto the snow beneath him. He let go of his sword, the blade sliding back into its sheath. He hadn’t even half drawn it. Tangwen watched him impassively as he reached up for his own throat, the blood-drunk magics in Madawg’s flesh warring with, and losing to, the chalice-forged venoms of Tangwen’s dirk. He sank to his knees. Tangwen stepped to one side and he fell face-down to further stain the snow.

Calgacus also watched him fall.

‘Well, I think that concludes that,’ the Cait
mormaer
said.

Tangwen turned to make her way through the crowd. The warriors parted for her, eager to get out of the hunter’s way. The Witch King was staring down at Madawg, horrified. He opened his mouth to protest.