Skin

Skin Read Free

Book: Skin Read Free
Author: Ilka Tampke
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and had a great fondness for the foretelling of ruin. He was
mocked for both of these, but I always offered him a ready ear and in return he was
free with the news of the township.
    ‘Why so?’ I asked.
    ‘There was a rider from the east last night. The Bear is fallen.’
    ‘Slain?’ I questioned. There had been no news of war.
    ‘Nay. Died in his bedskins. An old man’s death, bless his soul to have reached it.’
    The Great Bear, Belinus, king of the Catuvellauni, whose rule spread over most of
the eastern tribes of Albion. He was greatly admired, even by those beyond his reign,
like us.
    ‘Who will wear his crown?’ I asked.
    ‘This is the question.’ Mael bent down and swung open the door of the oven. ‘Togodumnus
has claimed the capital but his brother, Caradog, will want his share of the tribes,
and he is a flaming arrow. Whatever smooth waters Belinus has sailed between Britain
and Rome, Caradog is sure to whip up.’
    I could not help smiling at his prophecy. ‘I think we are safe from the Romans here,
Mael.’
    ‘Are we?’ He dripped with sweat as he pulled out the bread stone. ‘The Bear knew
how to throw a bone to the Roman dog. He gave them all the skins and the tin they
could want and kissed their fingers for the privilege. They had no reason to attack
again. With that young cock Caradog crowing about Britain’s great freedom, who knows
what Rome will do to subdue him?’
    I placed the loaves in my basket. Even within my short remembering, the tendrils
of Roman ways had touched Caer Cad. Aside from the pretty cups and the dark wines
that filled them, there were new arts like coloured glass, oils from fruit, and different
coins that served in trade. More and more barrow-loads of our lead and grain were
carted out and rolled onto ships bound for the Empire. But the tribes had always
been, and remained, the law-keepers of this land.
    Rome’s army had come one hundred summers before and the eastern kings had defended
their freedom with trade and terms. There was always talk that they would come again,
that they would not be so easily withheld, but I was not afraid. Cookmother had taught
me that the roots of the tribes reached deep and it would take more than Roman swords
to dig them out.
    I thanked Mael for the bread and he smiled at me through blackened teeth. ‘First
time through the fires tonight?’ he asked.
    I nodded.
    ‘Then Mothers bless you.’ He chuckled and the knot tightened in my belly.
    Outside, Neha sprang to her feet. Sun streamed over Sister Hill to the east. Already
there were women busied at its crest, softening the ground for the poles and laying
the offerings.
    Of the year’s four great festivals, Beltane was the most beloved by the tribes. A
night of fire, of joy, where the heat of man against woman broke open the winter,
called back the sun and readied the ground for a strong, sweet harvest. For girls
who had first bled since last Beltane, such as me, tonight would be their first union.
I was twice seven summers.
    Barking filled the air. Neha had galloped ahead. I ran after her, hoping she hadn’t
bitten the wheelwright again.
    When I rounded the corner I found her snarling at a young tribesman marking his fightcraft
in the street. I pushed through the crowd around him and called Neha off. ‘I’m sorry,’
I panted, grabbing her scruff. ‘She’s not fond of strangers.’
    He laughed. ‘She mistakes me then. I am no stranger to Cad.’
    I stared at him. He was well cast, of medium height but heavily muscled, his beard
lime-bleached in the style of the warrior. Despite the crisp morning, he practised
without a shirt, his silver torque glinting on his shaved chest. He was familiar
but I could not place him.
    ‘Are you returned from fosterage?’ I asked, hooking my unbraided hair behind my shoulders.
    ‘Ay.’ He sheathed his sword. ‘I am Ruther of Cad.’
    Orgilos’s son. Often spoken of. Fostered to the east for fight-training, then to
Rome to learn their

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