Casca had nothing against the sacrificing of goats and cattle, as the flesh would be consumed by the wedding guests and not the flames of the sacrificial fires. For the rest, he had seen the same ceremony with minor variations among many peoples during his travels. The villagers didn't mind too much when he said he would use a village elder rather than bring in another druid for the rites.
This last night before his wedding looked like it was going to be a long one. Glam would hear of nothing else. He and the men of the hold would drink and feast until it came time for Casca to enter into the bonds of domestic servitude. Glam, as usual, had nothing good to say about anything concerning weddings. But Casca knew it was all show and that Glam would have happily beat the brains out of anyone who even hinted they would disrupt the ceremony. The old heathen was as happy as a child behind his gruff manner and well pleased to see Casca acquire that which he wanted most in the world, Lida.
A double row of maidens, dressed alike in flowing white robes and fall flowers in their hair, sang songs of love and devotion. A white ram was sacrificed and the senior elder of the largest village was asked to read the signs while its innards were dragged out into the open air.
'That should have been my job. That ignorant dirt farmer can't possibly know the first thing about divining.' Hagdrall drew to the rear of the proceedings.
Under the elder's watchful gaze, the couple exchanged salt, earth, and fire-a simple ceremony, and then it was done. They were now one. According to the rites of Mother Earth, they were joined until Father Death separated them.
Casca took his bride into his arms and gently kissed each of her sightless eyes, then her mouth, marveling at the sweetness of her breath.
Glam sniffled in his beard. Being the sentimental slob that he was, he always cried at weddings.
Chapter Ten
It was not too long after Casca believed he had finally settled into the comfortable mold of married life, when he and Glam embarked on a hunting trip to get away from the mounting duties of the hold. Even Lida had insisted that Casca take off a few days and get rid of some of the tension that was building up in him from having to deal with the everyday problems of running even a domain as small as his. She knew that it wasn't the line of work he was cut out for, but he did do his best to be fair and just.
There was some reluctance on his part to leave Lida behind, but she assured him that she would be well taken care of and that it made good sense for him to get familiar with the terrain around Helsfjord in the event of trouble. Casca couldn't deny that. A good soldier always checked out the lay of the land-though in Glam's interpretation that meant the hottest-blooded woman he could find.
They set off shortly after sunrise, packs slung over their shoulders, swords at their hips, and boar spears held close at hand. It felt good. From the first step out of the gray confines of the hold, Casca could feel the weight of his responsibilities drop off him. As for Glam, Casca wasn't sure the man-beast knew how to worry. Each step out into the woods was lighter than the one preceding it.
Glam thumped his barrel chest and breathed deeply. 'Ahhhhh! That's better than the smell of wood smoke and baby piss in the nostrils all day, is it not?'
Casca had to agree.
The day sparkled with a clear crystal sky above them, and the last of the ground fog of the morning rose to be whisked away at the tops of the pines and oaks. Forest sounds gently greeted them as they made their way with no real direction in the mind. The singing of birds and the quick rustling of small animals scurrying away at their approach were welcome sounds to their ears.
They trekked all that day, stopping only once for a short breather. Crossing the ridges and valleys, Casca enjoyed the feel of the strain, the aching of unused muscles. He hadn't had much exercise since the time he had been put in the dungeon, and had had damned little after taking over control of Helsfjord except for the delightful exercises Lida put him through. For a woman so fragile in appearance, to his delight she had an amazing amount of strength and endurance. More than once she had forced the tough, lumpy-muscled ex-gladiator to the thumbs gesture asking for mercy, which she seldom granted.
A couple of hours before dark they settled on a sheltered glen to make camp. It had a small, clear, cold stream, which fed into a larger one that eventually led to the sea.
Glam left Casca to set up camp and headed downstream a ways to see what he could scrounge up for chow. He looked in the shallow waters of the stream until he found what he was looking for. Giving a yell for Casca, the Roman joined him and looked to where Glam's dirty-nailed finger was pointing in the water. Several good-sized trout were lying just under the surface, almost motionless. They moved only enough to keep their position in the running stream. Glam told Casca to keep an eye on the fish while he went a little further downstream. Casca didn't know what Glam had in mind, but there was usually a reason for everything Glam did, even if it did sometimes take years to figure out just what it was.
Glam stopped about fifty feet down and rapidly built a small barricade of stones across the stream. When he had finished, he yelled for Casca to chase the fish down to him.
Casca jumped into the chilled waters, which reached just above his ankles, and started the startled trout down to his bearish companion. With a quick flick of their tails the fish were gone, streaking through the shallows. Casca followed, splashing with his feet and cursing the chill. He arrived in time to see Glam bent over, his arms groping in the stream. First one, then another of the silver bodies were knocked out of the water by Glam's paws.
When the fish reached his small dam, they could go no further and were trapped between Glam and Casca. Casca was sure that Glam had bear blood in him as the barbarian bent over the water, arms swinging as Casca had seen bears do when fishing. They would make a swipe with their paws and send a fish flying onto the shore. Casca left the wet fishing to Glam, who was doing just fine in his groping. He contented himself with keeping the fish from getting past him back upstream, though several did manage to flick their way between his legs and escape. In no time at all Glam had enough fat trout lying on the grass to make a large enough meal to satisfy even his oversized appetite.
That night they fed well on baked trout. Glam had packed the bodies in mud and then put them in the coals of their campfire to cook. Casca cursed between clenched teeth as he burned his fingers in his impatience to get at the succulent white meat beneath the baked mud shell. When he finally got the shells opened, the smell of the fish mingled with the clean odor of the pines, and his mouth was watering in anticipation. They spiced the fish with a touch of rock salt and for once, even Glam seemed content with the quality of the food. It had been a good day and they were tired, but it was the kind of tiredness that felt good. With full stomachs, they slept under the open night sky, enjoying the quiet of the evening, which was broken only by the crackling of the embers in their campfire.
Noon of the following day found them high on a ridge looking out over a primeval forest far below in a valley broken with glades and streams. The wind was cool, giving them a clean, fresh feeling as it brushed over their faces. It was a time to be savored. After the violence and bloodshed of the past months, moments like these were too few not to be treasured.
With, some degree of reluctance they headed back down into the shadows of the trees on the other side of the mountain. Glam whistled off-key between his furry lips, trying to imitate the trillings of the birds with no success, though he thought he performed the act to perfection.
For three days they wandered with no plan, seeing no sign of humans other than the distant smoke of an occasional village, which they avoided. Casca wanted no contact with people. Where men were to be found, so was trouble, and he had no desire to involve himself in anything that would spoil their journey.
At the base of the ridge the deer trail they had been following narrowed, leaving only a small space on which the ledge they were on could be crossed. There their peace and tranquility was broken by the sounds of men coming from the other direction. Casca was about to make the decision to go back the way they had come and leave the deer trail for the quiet of the woods, but it was too late; he had been spotted. A furred, spear-toting warrior that could have been a smaller version of Glam broke into view.
Casca and Glam stopped, as did the warrior, who was facing them from about thirty feet. Rapidly the lone warrior was joined by others until five armed men faced them.
