Barry Sadler Casca 05 The Barbarian

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ever refused it to anyone, it would never be granted to him. The law was the
law. Well then, you have three days and then you get your asses out of my
house. I ll feed no useless mouths here.
Casca sized the man up. Anyone that disagreeable was bound to have more than
his fair share of enemies. Lord Ragnar, if you would grant us permission to
winter in your lands, we would pay you back with the aid of our arms, should
anyone come to attack you.
Ragnar thought it over. He had always been a little short of manpower. As soon
as his young men got their size on them, they headed for better paying hunting
grounds. Ungrateful bastards! And these two did have the look of experienced
fighters about them, though he didn t like the looks of the smaller man. He
was far too clean in appearance like that fop, Sifrit. But no matter. If he
could get them cheap enough, he might make them a deal. And anyway, it was
always possible for them to break some of the laws, and if they didn t break
any, it could always be arranged so it looked that way.
Slyly, he forced a little good humor into his voice, though it fooled no one,
not even himself. Well then, that s a different matter. Anyone will tell you
that old Ragnar is a fair man to anyone who wants honest work and is willing
to give fair exchange. Tell you what I ll do. You can winter here and we ll
see how it works out. I ll supply your food and drink and if you work out all
right, there ll be something to put in your purses when the spring comes. Now,
what could be fairer than that?
Glam looked at Casca. They read each other the same and agreed to the old
bandit s terms.
They were shown to the bachelor males barracks. They were to share a straw,
thatch-covered, stone shelter with another twenty or so regulars that rotated
their duty time with the other young men of the region over whom Ragnar ruled.
Each pulled a short-timer hitch of sixty, days and returned to his farm as
another took his place. This was as according to custom, and they knew no
other way. Like it or not, they owed Ragnar fealty and were made to swear a
blood oath as soon as they were old enough to have pubic hair.
The next few days were spent as they always are when settling into new
surroundings. There are always some young bucks who want to flex their
muscles and make brave noises; and, as with children, this is usually all it
comes to. The ones to watch were the older warriors with the look of
bitterness in their eyes. After Glam and Casca had proved to everyone s
satisfaction that they were not to be screwed around with, they were left
pretty much to themselves.
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Also, as was normal for new men, they drew the worst of the duty assignments:
the late watches on the ramparts, going out on the wood-cutting details in the
day, and anything else the senior warriors could think of to lay on them. All
this, Casca and Glam tolerated. The winter was still too far from being over,
so they swallowed their anger and accepted it.
Casca did find one person of interest, though thus far he had had no chance to
talk to her. She was
Lida, the daughter of Ragnar. He wondered how such a foul brute could have
sired anything so graceful and delicate. Her hair was pale as winter
moonbeams and her skin almost transparent. It was said, though not
loudly, that Ragnar had beaten her mother s brains out while in one of his
drunken rages, and most felt that was the easy way out for her. But Lida he
kept near him. Though she was of age to marry and several times he had tried
to trade her off for a favorable alliance among neighboring tribes, he could
find no takers. None wanted to claim Ragnar for a kinsman, no matter how
pretty his daughter was.
From what Casca had been able to find out, she was nearly twenty years old and
could even read.
This was something extremely rare in these parts, where only the few druids
he d met in his travels had any knowledge of writing, and that was in their
own manner. They used a system of squiggles and marks that made no sense to
him whatsoever. But then, who said it had to? Her being able to read and write
gave her some value to Ragnar in keeping records of who owed him what though
sometimes she pissed him off when she pointed out that someone he had a
hard-on for owed him nothing.
Chapter Seven
Lida had noticed the scar-faced stranger with his broad shoulders and strong
back. She also noticed how he never used his strength to hurt anyone lesser
than himself. The children, too, seemed to like the rough man and often came
to play with him or watch him twist pieces of iron into different shapes for
their amusement and then straighten them out again. Several times they d met [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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