The Angry Mermaid 113 or Y Morforwyn Dicllon 113

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Drustina and her flotilla finally make it to Dumnoniia (Cornwall) and she is compelled to make port for repairs,

The Angry mermaid 113
Or
Y Morforwyn Dicllon 113

http://www.celtnet.org.uk/brythonic-tribes.html

Irish Sea.gif

The flotilla kept to its approximate diamond formation as it made good progress south. Out of the North Channel, skirting the Isle of Mann, past Ynys Fon (Anglesey) and Bail ar y Claith (Dublin) and onwards past southern Cambria to the Domnoniia peninsular.

That evening, Drustina stared longingly at the familiar ridge of hills and rocks that were her homeland. To be so near and yet be so far, sent a stab of almost intolerable hiraeth through Drustina’s very core. She reflected silently;

‘Would she ever see those hills and forests ever again, should she perhaps risk a fleeting visit to one of the few tiny villages where she could see a few wisps of smoke from her people’s hearths.’

Then she concluded reluctantly and angrily.

‘No! Much though she craved such an adventure, it would have put her companions in unnecessary danger just to satisfy her own selfish craving!’

Reluctantly she dragged her eyes to the southern horizon and bid a sad farewell to the familiar hills and the feint images of the mountains beyond. The hurt of doing so only served to harden her resolve.

~o00o~

The unseasonal breeze made for good sailing weather and several sails were spotted as they sped on their way. However such was the mood of fear throughout the Celtic sea, those single sails chose to keep well clear of four strange ships racing south. Two days later Drustina and her companions were relieved and pleased to spot the extreme end of the Dumnoniian peninsula. The westerly wind set them fair to round the familiar headland while both Udris and Drustina paid heed to the several deadly reefs that lay in wait for the unwary. The Celtic pair shepherded their companion commanders between the headland and the islands then set an easy course for the southernmost tip of their island home.

As they steered to pass around the Lizard, the sea started to set up and the wind increased. Udris came in close to speak with Drustina for the tide race was setting the increasing winds and waves against the tide causing the sea to break and get rough. He called across the water.

“It looks like a storm is coming, would you consider sheltering in my home port of Bohor or are you pushing on?”

Drustina was in two minds. It would have been nice to shelter from the storm and savour some Dumnoniian hospitality but she was desperate to get back to Solanta and the Wessex King. Then the decision was made for her. Across the water there came a sharp crack and they turned to see Heliox’s main mast tumble overboard. Drustina cursed and replied to Udris.

“It seems the gods have chosen to put all of us into the Val. Let’s go and help him.”

Heliox still had his foresail so, with the westerly wind, he was able to make reduced speed. Carl threw a line to carry a tow-rope to Heliox and they started making a more respectable speed. They sailed into the estuary and eventually the four ships docked on the familiar quay of the town of Bohor. Udris’s face lengthened with concern as they secured their ships and stepped ashore to find the town in a sombre mood. Udris accosted a young lad out of the crowd who had gathered to look at the new arrivals.

“Boy, I am Udris, nephew of Penderol why is everybody sombre, and why are there no adults here?”

The young lad glanced uncertainly then explained.

“They are burying Penderol at this very moment. He died four days ago.”

Udris’s jaw clenched with disappointment.

“Damn! Well it’s to be expected, he was getting on. Who is the new chief?”

“The citizens will meet tomorrow.”

Udris’s eyes widened with some relief.

“Thank the gods. So I and my men will get a vote. Truly our arrival has been timely. Come let us attend the funeral. All the townspeople will be gathered.”

Drustina and her commanders accompanied Udris and his Dumnonii crew as they hurried to the church. Being a high ranking officer of the town, Udris simply walked unthinkingly into the church to cause gasps of confusion amongst the gathered mourners by the door had had entered. He hesitated momentarily then turned to a familiar, wrinkled face at the door.

“What’s the problem?”

“We heard you were dead!”

Udris snorted derisively.

“Well obviously I’m not!”

“And thank the gods for that!” The old man sighed.

“Explain.”

“The vote for the new chief is tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Well it was more-or-less a foregone conclusion. Sadraw was expected to become chief.”

“Sadraw!” Udris almost choked on the name. “Sadraw! By the gods, that usurious bastard is as twisted as a serpent’s tail!”

Faces were beginning to turn as Udris’s whisper almost became a croak of disbelief.

“They can’t possibly ...!”

He realised he was almost squawking with disbelief and he quickly returned to the whisper.

“How the hell did he ever get nominated!?”

“There are many men who owe him money. The harvest was bad this summer. People had to borrow money to buy grain for bread to get through the winter. It is an open vote and everybody who is indebted must either vote or repay their loans.”
Udris swore softly then asked.

“But any lender must wait at least two growing seasons before foreclosing a food debt! That’s the law; or at least, it was.”

“Not now, times are hard and corn is scarce.” The old fellow replied. “There are very few men to enforce the law anyway.”
Udris turned to Drustina with a raised eyebrow and Drustina nodded affirmation. The question did not even need to be asked. He continued whispering to the old man.

“So where are Penderol’s men? It’s their duty to enforce the law.”

“Some are indebted to Sadraw. Penderol was very feeble in his final months and things sort of ran away from him. Sadraw moved cunningly.”

“Not all of them are in debt to him though surely. “

“Enough. There was a fire in the town’s granary. Many families lost their winter store.”

Udris frowned thoughtfully.

“A fire. But the barn is mostly stone. That’s what makes it rat and mouse proof.”

“Sadraw had rented some space. He was storing olive oil.”

“Oil!”

“He paid a good rent for the space, then one morning there was a fire, it spread to the oil and the whole place became an inferno.”

Udris nodded sagely then turned to Drustina.

“It stinks.”

Drustina returned the nod.

“Not here though. Not at your uncle’s funeral. Sound out the town. See what the townspeople think.”
Udris wagged his head then made his way down the aisle as heads turned and the whispers grew to a commotion. The priest stopped as Udris approached his uncle’s coffin then looked around to see if any of Penderol’s sons were present. Only Penderol’s daughters were there, Udris was puzzled so he approached them and they cringed uncertainly. Udris reassured them.

“It’s not a ghost, I’m not dead. Where are your brothers?”

The oldest girl replied.

“Dead.”

“How?”

“Drowned. There was a storm when they were crossing back from Brithony. The other men said their ship seemed to spring a leak and it sank with a load of corn they had bought.”

“Are you saying all your brothers were in the same ship?”

She nodded then fell silent. Udris turned to Drustina as mourners began to recover from the sudden appearance of their favourite son accompanied by the legendary lioness. The pair approached the priest as Drustina sensed Udris’s deepening anger. She spoke in his stead to avoid an incident.

“Holy man, in the brief time we’ve been back we have learned some disturbing news. This is neither the time nor place to address things. But after the funeral flames I would talk with you.”
The priest stiffened that a woman no less should address him so perfunctorily.

“On what authority?” He demanded.

“This authority.” She replied softly as she tapped her sword over her shoulder.

The priest shrank visibly and a pregnant silence descended throughout the church. Drustina tapped Penderol’s coffin.

“Shall we continue and show him the respect he deserves?”

This served as an escape for the priest to recover his dignity. Drustina stood aside and Udris stepped up to claim his right as Penderol’s closest male relative to offer the beseechment to their god for the dead chief’s soul. He casually claimed this right by approaching his own second cousin and pointing to the holy oil in his hand.

“This is my duty I believe, I am Penderol’s oldest nephew and all his sons are reported dead.”

The man nodded and handed the vial of oil. Udris stepped up to the coffin and waited while the priest performed the last rites. Finally, to the accompaniment of much chanting and wailing, Udris sprinkled the oil on the coffin and it was removed to a funeral pyre on the foreshore. There Udris and many others poured copious amounts of additional oil over the pyre. Then in the ancient tradition, Udris set a flame to it. The pyre ignited with a whoosh and he had to leap back to save himself from being scorched. He yelped with shock as his clothes ignited and Drustina acted with alacrity as she ripped a cloth from the food table and knocked him to the floor. She flung the cloth over him but he was twitching too violently and she had to yell for help. Several men pounced on Udris and the flames were quickly extinguished. He finally scrambled to his feet cursing.

“Shit that was close. What the hell happened?”

Drustina was watching the flames and wondering. The pyre had certainly ignited with surprising suddenness. She glanced around to see one of the mourners still holding his pot of camphor. He was staring stupidly at the flames so she approached him quietly.

“You’d best step further back or that pot might catch.”

He gaped stupidly at her then realised what she was saying.

“It just went whoosh. You saw it!”

“Yes, I did, that’s why I want to smell that pot. What funerary oil do you use in Dumnoniia?”

“Camphor, here look.”

He held out the pot as Drustina led him though the crowd. Once away from the commotion of Udris’s accident she took the pot and sniffed it. Her nose wrinkled and she coughed at the pungency.

“It smells like camphor but there’s something else. Something like a spirit, but it’s too similar. I’ve smelt it before but I can’t quite place it, I ... hold on ... turps! That’s it, turpentine!”

She sniffed it again then dipped her finger and carefully touched her tongue. She grimaced and shuddered.

“Uuurgh, it’s too spicy for camphor but less aromatic than turpentine. I can’t quite place it.”

“The mourner copied Drustina then frowned.”

“I’ve smelt this before.”

“Where, when?”

“The compound of Sadraw.” He moved his olive oil to the town granary to make room for this ... is it oil?”

“No, it’s a spirit. I thought at first that it was turpentine but it’s not. Let’s go and visit Sadraw’s compound.”
The mourner pursed nervous lips.

“It’s well protected. You’ll need back-up.”

Drustina wagged her head in slight amusement.

“How many?”

The mourner realised how fatuous his remark had been and he let his smile broaden.

“Oh. Of course, you are the lioness.”

Drustina nodded and motioned the mourner to follow her to the quay. Once among her companions, Drustina felt safer talking to her own. There she passed the pot of oil amongst her men whilst asking.

“Anybody recognise this.”

Eventually one of Carl’s followers, (a man named Vindar who Drustina recognised as having been with them since the days of the Corsair battles) stepped forward slightly uncertainly.

“I traded between Rome and the Rhone delta. We carried this or something very like it; not Camphor but we called it Camphane or Camphine. Some thought it was the same but others said it was two different natures. Either way they are both a spirit and not oil, well not Camphor oil. We always had to air our ship after carrying it. Inside the holds, the air was bad and men got dizzy and died if they were not careful. Nasty stuff Lioness but not poisonous if taken frugally, it actually makes you feel drunk. Oh, and as you will have gathered, it burns very easily; sometimes it can jump across if the smell is strong enough. If the weather is hot in the hold and a jar or pot gets broken you can see the vapours in the sunlight; then it is very dangerous. We used to sluice down everything and make it wet.”

Drustina nodded and motioned to Gisela to get some pyrites from her pouch. The crewman produced some straw and tipped some of the liquid over it. Then he stoppered the jar carefully and stood back as he motioned to Gisela.

“Make your spark princess but stand back and don’t lean over the straw.”

Gisela did as instructed and with the first fat spark the straw ignited with a whoosh. It was all the evidence Drustina needed. She was beginning to think the fire in the town granary was not entirely an accident. As they moved quickly to capture Sadraw’s compound Drustina talked to Carl and his Saxon crewman who knew about the Camphane.

“This stuff should never have been stored with the town’s corn. It’s lethal. D’you think Sadraw might have deliberately put it there to sabotage the town’s winter store?”

Carl nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s what I was thinking, make it look like an accident, indeed it might well have been an accident if other town’s folk did not understand the nature of this Ca ... Camph ...”

“Camphane or Camphine,” the crewman finished, “and your right, we never carried it or stored it near other cargoes. In the Rhone Delta we even had a separate quay and store for all those spirits we knew to be dangerous.”

Drustina nodded then signalled for silence as they approached Sadraw’s compound.

The structure was well constructed but like many places in peacetime, poorly guarded. A quick reconnoitre told Carl and Drustina all they needed to know. They carefully positioned their men then Drustina disguised herself as a townswoman and approached the guard on the gate asking to buy some oil for cooking. He eyed the attractive visitor lasciviously then opened the gate to admit her. As she passed him, he made an attempt at copping a feel of her breasts. It was the excuse she was looking for to create a commotion that attracted the attention of the other guards who had been playing dice in the guardhouse instead of attending properly to their duties.

Her angry curses brought the sergeant and the other men running out of the guardhouse to find Drustina remonstrating with the original guard as he tried to shut her up. They gathered around grinning which was a bonus for Drustina’s plan. Now she had the guards where she wanted them ... staring fixatedly at the seemingly comical scene of the guardsman trying to shut the viperfish girl up. Once she noticed all the guards grinning at her seeming plight she let out a scream and screeched the password ‘bastard!!’ loud enough for Carl and the men to hear outside the wooden palisade.

The pre-occupied, predatory guard had left the gate open and unattended thus allowing two score armed men to slip silently behind the group of grinning guardsmen and take them completely by surprise. As one of the guardsmen realised they had been attacked the others span around to find themselves totally outnumbered and unprepared. The guard who thought he had a simple wench in his grip now made a move to grab her more firmly by her clothes. Drustina recognised she now had the advantage of surprise. As he glanced uncertainly at the invaders he decided to re-adjust his grip on the wench but suddenly the ‘wench’ turned into something altogether different!

She twisted easily in his grip such that her chemise ripped to expose a ripe breast. As his gaze was distracted by the luscious presentation, her dagger appeared firstly in her hand then secondly in his stomach. It was the only casualty of the operation for the other guards had quickly realised they were surprised and outnumbered by a vastly superior force. The guard collapsed at Drustina’s feet as his companions turned to stare disbelievingly at the blood spilling from his split belly while the ‘wench’ stood over him as she slowly (and provocatively) tucked her breast back into her ripped chemise.

It was apparent to all that the belly wound was deep and fatal but it would take the guard some time to die for nobody had the skills to repair the injuries. He writhed and moaned for help but none was forthcoming. Once again, the Lioness’s enemies were learning that beneath the attractive exterior lay a ruthless and determined nature. As she finally made herself presentable she turned to the now disarmed, sergeant of the guard.

“You’d better find one of your holy men to attend to this creature; it’s not long for this world.”

Then she turned to the captured guards.

“Just take note. Where I go, men learn to respect women or suffer the consequences.”

The guards were secured in the guardhouse while Drustina, Carl and Heliox inspected the materials stored in the warehouse. They wagged their heads in disgust as they assessed the hoard. Heliox summed up their conclusions in a few words.

“And the townspeople were going hungry while this sat in their very midst. Sadraw is a thief and a usurer.”

Carl turned to a couple of his crew and asked them.

“Go and find the bastard, he’s probably at the funeral feast! Oh and tell Udris as well, this will be all the ammunition he’ll need to stop Sadraw’s ambition in its track.”

~~oo000oo~~

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Comments

Good to see Drustina dealing justice but

Is she about to lose Udris? Seems likely as the village needs a chief with some backbone and he's the likely candidate.

Thanks for continuing the saga Bev.

Wonderful

I do so love this Saga.

Thank you, Your Disgracefulness.

Joani

Stories within stories

You do such a good job of working small conflicts and stories within your great saga. Durstina can't seem to go anywhere without uncovering new and nefarious deeds being done and new villains. The gods and muses guide you and Dru in such interesting directions that you keep us poor readers enthralled and coming back for more. For this we thank you for sharing.

Much Love,

Valerie R