Chapter Five

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As soon as they entered the small home they could both smell smoke and burning herbs. The room had a haze to it. Dried leaves and other herbs hung from the ceiling and walls. The room was warm but had an eerie feel to it. Joanna didn't want to venture further into the room, but Kincaid pushed her on. A figure came into view. A hunched over figure in a black cloak stood at the far end of the wall. The man leaned on a tall old oak branch that looked too frail to support the man's weight. The figure turned and the man's face was shocking. Joanna nearly gasped as she stared at the scars on the man's face. What caught her attention though was the milky glaze over his eyes. It was almost as if he was blind. It was clear the man could see them because the man acknowledged his chief.

"Chief Kincaid, I presume this is your new wife?" he asked in a raspy voice.

"Yes, Seer, she is," Kincaid answered.

The old man hobbled towards them. The Seer took Joanna's hand. He bent over in a bow and pressed his forehead to her hand. It was a strange greeting. He straightened up as much as his hunched back would let him.

"We've come here for you to bless our marriage," Kincaid said as the Seer turned away.

(This ritual is completely made up. It is not real)

The old man hobbled over to a low lying table, and sat on the floor. Joanna heard his ancient bones creak and pop. She held in a cringe. Kincaid ushered her forward and made her sit in front of the old man. Kincaid kneeled next to her. She didn't know what to do with herself. The Seer reached over and opened a small clay pot. He took a handful of some sweet smelling crushed herbs. With his other hand he brought a candle in front of them. Joanna stared intently as the next events unfolded. The Seer began to mumble something she couldn't understand. He sprinkled some of the herbs into the flame of the candle. The flames licked up the dried herbs. Joanna could faintly smell the herb. With the herb left in his hand he spit into his palm mashing the herbs and spit together with his thumb. His thumb turned green as the herbs turned to paste. He then cut a piece of the the burnt wick off the candle. He placed it in his palm with the paste, and he continued to mash it with his thumb. Soon the paste turned black. Joanna didn't know what he was doing, but it was rather confusing.

Kincaid suddenly leaned forward towards the Seer. The old man reached up with a black thumb and marked Kincaid's forehead with a black streak. The Seer looked to Joanna, and she didn't move. Kincaid nudged her. She looked at him, and he jerked his head towards the Seer impatiently. Joanna faced the Seer and leaned forward. The Seer left the same mark on Joanna's forehead. Joanna leaned back.

"The blessing is complete. The gods are in favor of your marriage. I pray she bares you many sons, and I pray he provides shelter and love for you," the seer said to both of them, "Go and know the gods are with you."

Kincaid stood and dragged Joanna with him. Never in her life had she ever seen something like that. She had seers and priests in her village, but they never performed something like that. They walked through the door and Joanna almost coughed on the fresh air. "The hard part is done with," Kincaid said. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Wish to make it official?" he asked. Joanna wanted nothing of the sort. In all honesty they were married. The paper work and dowry had been settled all that was left was to consummate the marriage as husband and wife. Joanna would rather sit out in the freezing cold for days than share a bed with the scoundrel.

"Is that all you think about?" she glared.

"Only when I'm around you, love," he grinned.

He suddenly smacked her ass. She let out a small scream, and Kincaid chuckled as she glared at him.

~

The night came, and the village was alive and buzzing with excitement and alcohol. People danced and played music. They played games and wrestled. Men and women took bets and children wrestled with each other or dogs. Joanna had never seen anything like it. The only celebrations she had ever known were feasts on holidays. Even at those events there wasn't as much dancing or playing as she was seeing now. Joanna stood outside a wooden fence. On the inside men wrestled for fun. Laughter and shouting could be heard all around. All though the time was joyous fear was in Joanna's mind. Kincaid had finally run off drinking with a few men.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" someone asked.

Joanna looked and saw Barclay's wife. She held her son on her hip, who watched the men wrestle with amusement.

"Yes, everything is just fine," Joanna said trying to look as relaxed as possible.

It mustn't have worked because she felt sick as she tried to relax. "You look as if you are about to be ill," she said. Joanna let out the breath she was holding in. With one hand she pressed it to her aching stomach. "You don't wish to sleep with Kincaid," she said. Joanna looked at the woman.

"Is it that obvious?" Joanna asked.

"To a woman not to men. Tell me what is your fear?" the woman asked.

The two sat down as the fight escalated and the cheers grew louder.

"Kincaid is a scoundrel. Ever since meeting him all he's been is arrogant and wanting to bed me," Joanna fumed not caring if she was insulting the chief in front of this woman.

"That is only what every man wants. Kincaid likes to make that very apparent," she laughed, "Fear is normal for things such as this. Kincaid may act a scoundrel, but he would not hurt you."

"I doubt this very much," Joanna said.

"Trust me, I have known Kincaid for a long time. He would rather cut off his own fingers than harm a woman. Especially if he is married to one," she reassured.

They sat in silence and turned towards the fight. "I'm Aílis," she finally said.

"Joanna," she introduced.

"If you'll excuse me Barclay will be looking for me," Aílis excused.

Joanna watched the kind woman leave with a squirming boy on her hip. She liked Aílis. She was kind and welcoming and seemed to understand. Joanna prayed to the gods she had just made a friend out of a village of strangers.

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