Glam held his axe close to his side. The moonless night gave them good cover as they crept and crab-crawled closer to the camp. The only light came from a smoldering fire in the center. Casca tried to make sure the leader was bedded down, but no luck. In the dark there was no way to make out one hairy mass from another.
The girl stayed close behind them carrying the bag of stakes. Making their way around the edge of the surrounding boulders, they came down on the side where the male captives were kept. The women had been separated from them and were being kept on the other side of the fire with the children. Inch by inch they moved in, slowly, carefully, reaching the side of the boulders nearest the prisoners. Casca removed his helmet and set it aside. He whispered to Glam and the girl. They nodded agreement and he lay back on his belly. The feel of the damp grass was cool, soaking through his robes. He crawled, keeping his body as close to the rocks as possible, one yard, then another.
The prisoners were darkened masses lying together in huddled clumps. Casca watched the guards. When they turned to walk away, he rolled silently into the body of the male captives, becoming one with the dark. He moved close to a young man, who grumbled in his fitful sleep at the movement. His eyes jerked open with a terrified snap when a strong hand clamped over his mouth and held him still. A strange voice whispering in his ear quieted him. He nodded his head under the restraining hand and he was released. A gentle tugging at his bonds and his wrists were cut free. He didn't move. He just lay in the same position and bumped his head against his neighbor until the man woke, protesting. A few soft, quick words and he too was silent while another body moved close to him to free his hands and press a short knife into them. Moving as if still asleep, he twisted and cut his feet free. The two prisoners, obeying the stranger's orders, each woke the man next to him, spoke, then freed him, passing him a knife to do the same to his neighbor, until all six were free. They waited, keeping their same positions, lying as still as possible. Being this close to freedom, it was hard not to break and run.
Casca took his bundle of stakes out of his robes and handed them over to be passed around to the men. While he was doing this, the same action had been repeated on the women's side of the camp by the girl. The prisoners were free. Now they had to take out the sentries. Casca whispered in the ear of the young man he had just freed. He knew the youngster was grinning, even though it was too dark to see his face.
Casca snapped his fingers twice. The sound brought Glam to a standing position behind the boulder; it also brought two of the guards closer. They weren't suspicious, only curious. These two would be Casca's and the youngster's meat tonight. Glam was already moving around the other side of the boulder to take out the remaining sentry. A distant, wet thump told Casca that Glam had reached his target and the axe had fallen.
Glam held the man's body up so it wouldn't make any sound falling. He dragged it back into the shadows and quickly stepped out to take his place, careful to stay in the shadows away from the fire so that his face and size wouldn't give him away. The dull sound of their comrade dying turned the other two around in their tracks. Hesitant and uneasy, they fingered their weapons. One called out softly, 'Madorg, you all right?' The figure in the shadows raised an arm with Madorg's spear in it and waved back. They both sighed, tension released, and began to walk their rounds again.
Casca nudged the young man next to him and slowly turned onto his belly. Gathering his legs under him, he held the short sword to the ground where it couldn't be seen and slowly raised himself from the earth as the two guards turned their backs to the captives and began to walk back toward the other side. The youngster did likewise. The others kept their positions. Taking a deep breath, Casca moved on the nearest man. One knotted, muscled arm went around the raider's throat, cutting off any cry as the broad blade of the short sword penetrated his back on the right side of the spine. Angled up, it crossed over and severed organs until it reached the heart, nearly cutting it in half.
The youngster had moved, too. He had his man on the ground, the short blade of the knife buried in his back and a hand over his mouth. He was trying to keep him still. The son of a bitch would not die. The youngster struck again and again, driving the knife in, but his man kept fighting, trying to get the hand away from his mouth. He succeeded in sinking his teeth into the youngster's hand and bit down, trying to chew clear through to the bone. His efforts were terminated when Glam's axe took the back of his skull off.
The rustling of the dying guard woke one of his comrades, who was a light sleeper. The man called out, asking if everything was all right. Glam spoke in a stage whisper, 'Shut up and go back to sleep.' The warrior rolled, mumbling about Madorg being a grouchy son of a bitch, and went back to sleep.
On the women's side, the girl was waiting… Casca made his way back around the perimeter until he was just behind the boulders where the women were kept. He snapped his fingers twice and the girl was ready to do her part. She and three others would take out their guards in a way that women knew best. She gave the signal and she and the three women she had chosen quickly removed their clothing, and, nude, lay down on the ground on their backs.
When the guards turned, they saw the young women lying there, their breasts and thighs glowing in the light of the campfire. The warriors gaped, openmouthed. This was something new! Rape they were familiar with, but not this! How the women had freed themselves of their bonds never entered their minds. All they could see were the young women running their hands over their naked bodies, moaning softly, opening their legs and squirming at their feet.
Stupefied, the guards each went to the girl nearest him; eyes wide in dirty bearded faces, they lay their weapons aside to remove their pants. The girls whispered to them to be silent so as not to wake the others. Grunting, the guards removed their pants and fell into the waiting arms of the girls. They were moaning and giggling softly, which the guards mistook for pleasure.
The warriors began to work, their minds on nothing but the sweet woman flesh writhing in mock pleasure beneath them. They were still involved when they died. When the girls, still lying on their backs, looked up and saw Casca and Glam standing over them, accompanied by two men from their village, they smiled and struck out with the sharpened stakes that they had been lying on. As they struck, so did the men. Axes and knives quickly finished off the four guards. The women enjoyed the death tremors of their savage lovers and held them near until it ceased. Then they rolled out from beneath the dead men and spat in their faces. Casca was right. There was nothing like the hatred of a woman.
The other women, all freed now, rose from the ground to join their sisters. The steel weapons of the guards were distributed among the men, and sharpened stakes given to each of the other women after they'd undressed.
In spite of the night chill, all felt a warmth in their bellies. The men moved back into the shadows spreading out around the camp. Casca asked one of them where the headman of the raiders slept. A pointing finger showed where the man with the horned helmet lay under a skin shelter, alone.
Casca moved near, standing directly behind the headman's sleeping place. The women waited until they saw his sword flash gold in the light of the campfire as he waved a signal. Then they moved. Each one crept silently until she had reached her objective; then each lay down beside the sleeping man. Quietly, easily, their mouths silenced any protest from those who woke at the feel of a naked body lying next to them. When they were all in place, Casca filled his lungs and yelled, his voice echoing across the valley, 'Kill!'
And, kill they did! Wooden stakes struck deep into stomachs and hearts. The freed men finished off the few that managed to escape the wrath of the women. Grim butchers! Work was done this night.
The headman rolled out of his shelter, instantly alert, weapon ready. He gaped for a moment at the sight of the women killing his men, then roared in anger and lurched forth, long sword swinging. His sword hand was stopped in midair as Casca moved quickly behind him and grabbed his wrist. Swinging the barbarian around, Casca grinned a look of killing and spat, 'Sing your death song, hero.' He drove his short sword into the man's gut, angling the blade up. He struck so hard that he raised the man clear off his feet. Grabbing the man by the hair, he forced him to his knees and moved his sword hand down. Drawing the blade out in a long, smooth slice, he opened the chieftain's stomach from chest to groin letting the hot, steaming intestines fall in a convoluted mass, wet and quivering, to the ground.
The chieftain never had a chance to sing his death song. His mouth had filled with his own blood before he could open it.
Several of the raiders had not yet died and their former slaves were in no hurry to put them in that blessed state. The women gathered around them, dragging them nearer to the campfire.
Casca knew what was going to happen next. Even he, with all the fighting he had been in and the slaughter he had seen, had no stomach for what lay in store for the raiders. But this was their way, and the only way he could have stopped it was to kill the women. Besides, they had earned the right to return the pain and humiliation they
