Blood Feud [COMPLETED]

CHAPTER SIX ☽

The hostages were being moved.

The Connacta had held them for one week in the pit. That dark hole was solely for those awaiting execution. She had managed to hold off on killing them all, for the time being, so her men unceremoniously dragged the nine hostages to different lodgings.

She mulled over her decision to keep them alive atop the watchtower, with the hostages below, grunting and jeering at the guards. They looked wretched and beneath the dirt-- furious. Nevermind the elevation from pit to mud-hut, their unwashed and unkempt state made them feral and itching for a means of escape.

"Get them washed."

Her single attendant exited readily to follow out her orders.

The hostages, halted outside of their mud-hut, were forced into a line facing Tara. She was without her elk skull this morning and far less imposing. Even though she was at a great height, her unbound hair and slender form may be seen as weaknesses. A little girl without a concubine and heir.

She scolded herself, remembering that the foreigners were just that, foreigners. There was no reason for them to know her unbound hair signalled her as a virgin.

She watched her men pull and mock the hostages' braids -- all of them had braids except one. The one with cropped hair must be Conn's assumed lord, his youthful complexion in comparison to the others was apparent. He stood straight and disinterested as the rest struggled to move, all chained together.

Tara's eyes focussed on him, the earthshaker. He shouted and made less rude signs than his companions. When he did look up from his forward stare, it was to marvel at the blue jays and starlings darting through nearby underbrush.

Young boys ran up to hostages, carrying pails of water and tripping over each other with excitement. They tittered nervously, bowled over by their proximity to newcomers and their strangeness. Tara's tiny cousins left the pails at her mens' feet and ran back to the well, giggling manically at the sight of such light, long-haired braids.

In Connacta culture, braids were for married women. Unbound hair, worn long, was customarily for maidens. Of course, there were no restrictions on male hairstyles. Most got it shorn on both sides and let the top grow freely, or wrapped twine around a knot on top and be done with it. With her hostages' long braids they hailed themselves married women or virgins.

Tara was jolted from her musings. The hostages began exclaiming loudly from the rough treatment and icy water thrown on them.

"Let them wash themselves!" She roared down from the watchtower.

Her younger brother, Cuán comically stopped mid-pail throw, the water landing a pathetic distance from the prisoners. The rest of her men stared at her blankly, if not slightly annoyed.

"One pail between two men. A sea-sponge on a stick each."

They dutifully carried out her orders, albeit they had to be hand-fed every specification she wanted. She did not think washing them could be seen as a weakness, as they were still held hostage, and she had killed one of them with her bolts earlier in the week. The mighty god, Dagda got his sacrifice, the Connacta loved the blood sport and Tara's rule was justified. An overall victory. Besides, the washing warded off disease festering in their camp.

Yet, a pang of insecurity still stung her heart. She turned away from them and jumped at Conn's form, blocking the stairway.

"You're going to keep them for ransom?"

She could not discern the emotion behind his eyes. His face was stony, expression immovable, "Yes," She could not help her wit, itching to revert them to their sibling rather than royal selves. "That is what's assumed when one takes hostages, no?"