enough.
Wary and tense, they moved through the woods. Everything around them was covered in a rich, lush, green haze from the wild undergrowth of ferns and brush. Ground fog danced between their legs as they moved to the sounds of the slaughter.
Casca advanced with no sense or feeling of injustice for the people being taken as slaves. After all, slavery was the natural order of things. He had even been one a couple of times himself. No, it was the killing of the women and children and helpless old people that pissed him off. There had always been slavery and probably always would be. It was a person's fate to be one or not.
Besides, he didn't like the raiding tribesmen very much anyway, and it gave him an excuse to work out some of his frustrations on them. Glam had said it was not good to keep one's feelings bottled up inside. It could drive a man crazy if he wasn't able to express himself fully. Therefore, it was much better to do just what you felt like and let your feelings come to the surface with a little healthy killing. Besides, there was always the chance of picking up a little booty along the way…
Several shadows moved out of their way, back into the brush. The sounds of fighting brought others to the scene. The forest wolves had long since learned that smoke and screams meant that soon food would be had. They gathered now to wait until the sounds quieted down. Then they would have their turn to feed on the remains of those left behind. These wolves had grown brave of late. They had learned to dispel some of their fear of man by finishing off the wounded and those too weak to fight back. At first the wolves would take a tentative bite, then jump back to see if their meal had any fight left in them. If there was no retaliation, they would go in for the kill. After a few times they learned not to wait. Human blood was not their favorite, but it was easy to get, and the meat, though saltier than that of the forest deer, would still fill empty bellies and give the pups something to cut their teeth on. And now anyone who left the confines of his or her village alone was considered fair game.
The leader of the pack sniffed at the scent of the two intruders, his gray muzzle wrinkling back to show long yellow canines. He gave a low whine and his pack moved away from the two men with steel in their hands. He knew it would be best to leave these humans alone. Killers always recognized each other. They would be content to wait for easier prey. It wouldn't be long. They licked their muzzles and cleaned their paws. Soon they would feed, but for now they would wait…
The smell of smoke thickened. If there had been no mist it would have been easily visible rising up to the tops of the trees to blow away into the morning sky. The sounds of fighting had died down to an occasional scream as the raiders took their pleasure with the women of the doomed village.
Casca and Glam crawled into some brush, the sweet clean smell of damp greenery contrasting with the odors of violent death coming to them from across the small clearing. Lying on their bellies, they could see about twenty dwellings in various stages of being burned, but most were already no more than piles of smoldering embers. The low stockade surrounding the houses had been designed to serve more as a fence to keep their livestock in than slavers out.
The slavers were moving their cargoes out. They were hooked together with ropes of braided hide connecting them together at the neck. They had been broken down into age and sex categories: children on one line at the rear, women in the center, and a few surviving adult males in the front. All of them totaling about thirty, stumbled out of what had been only minutes before, their homes…
Of the males, only two appeared to be out of their teens. The other four varied in age, anywhere from twelve to fourteen. Their new owners were rough-looking men, wearing mixtures of hides and armor. Several wore homemade imitations of Roman helmets that they had decorated with the horns of animals or wings of birds. All wore long untrimmed beards of various colors. The throwing axe was carried along with a Gallic-styled sword, one longer than that of the legions', but shorter than the one preferred by the Suevii tribesmen or the Marcomanni.
Once they were clear of the village, Casca and Glam moved in to see if there was anything worth saving. Only a few broken pots were left among the ruins. Bodies in broken positions lay scattered about the smoldering ruins. That the invaders had not had things go completely their way was evident by the number of them lying about with ripped out stomachs and throats. They too had been stripped of anything of value and left for the wolves to clean up. Several were lying on top of women. They had died in the process of rape. A short-bladed knife broken at the hilt in the hand of a young blonde-haired girl showed how it was done. The rest of the blade was between the ribs of her ravager.
Everything in the village had been slaughtered, from the cattle down to the dogs and children. Glam helped Casca gather the bodies together in a pile, then collected what unburned wood they could find and stacked it around the bodies. Sweating after their labor, they took a smoldering brand and blew it back into life. The funeral pyre burned bright and the fresh smell of new fire made the wolves in the forest whimper. They knew they would have to wait a little longer, and the smell of burning flesh told them there wouldn't be as much to feed on as they had hoped for.
A slow drizzle started to wet down the furs on both of their bodies, cleaning off the traces of soot from their faces. They followed after the raiders, knowing it would be best to wait until the hours just before dawn so they could see what they could do against the forty-odd barbarians. Time would be their ally. It was about all they had- that and a desire to let their weapons taste the blood of those they followed…
The slavers made camp shortly before nightfall in a grove of oaks by the edge of a clearing. They tied their slaves to trees, having three men guard them full-time. The leader of the slavers selected a young female for his pleasure and let the others share the remaining women-after the slaves had, of course, tended to the women's work of making campfires and preparing meat.
From a safe distance, Casca and Glam lay on their bellies watching the movements around the fire. The smell of meat cooking set their mouths watering. They had not had food for two days-not since they had eaten their last horse, or, at least, since Glam had eaten it. Casca had consumed only a few pounds of the lean red meat while Glam gulped one chunk after another until Casca thought his savage friend's gut would stretch permanently out of shape. There were only a few scraps left now.
Right now Glam was grumbling under his breath about how he could devour one of the forest bears, hides, claws, and all, and Casca believed him. When it was empty, Glam's stomach had a habit of making sounds not dissimilar to the noises made by feeding hogs. There were too many of them for a direct attack, so they decided to take their time and wait for anyone that got careless or straggled. If they got one or two a night, it wouldn't take too long before they had the odds down to levels they could manage.
Fortunately enough, the rain had eased off to no more than thin, vaporous drizzles that only served to keep them damp and cold.
Glam nudged Casca's ribs gently enough to cave in the ribs of an ox and pointed one long, black-nailed finger off to the side of the grove. A single barbarian was hauling a woman off to the bushes. Glam grunted… probably a shy type, or he's built so bad he doesn't want anyone else to see his deficiencies. They gave their quarry time to get settled into his work over the female, and then slipped on each side of him just as he finished and was raising himself off the unresisting female. She had given him scant pleasure, just lying there with no movement or emotion; but for his needs that served just as well.
The barbarian was involved with tying up his leather breeches when Glam's hands went around his throat. Cutting off any sound, he raised the man clear from the ground and twisted. The crack of the neck breaking was muted. The girl lay still, eyes closed. She wasn't even aware that her abuser was already on his way to whatever hell his race believed in.
Chapter Two
Casca covered the girl's mouth with his hand. She didn't move, thinking it was another of the slavers come to take their turn at her.
'Be still, make no sound. We'll have you away from here soon enough.' The voice was different from the guttural grunts of the speech of the Quadii. She opened her eyes to see a stern, scarred face looking down at her. Her eyes glimpsed to the side where she saw the body of her tormentor lying with a crooked neckband a hairy giant of man going through his victim's pouch. Casca helped the girl to her feet. She didn't have to get dressed. The savage had wasted no time on niceties; he'd just pulled her homespun dress up and gone to it. A couple of words to
