It was Beltane at long last. Savern had been kidnapped, and everyone was rejoicing.
Mozenrath took another long swig of mead and sat across from a laughing Tristan. "Now…" he yelled with a smirk. "Explain this to me again…" he said, barely holding in a rancorous laugh. It was hard to make yourself heard in the crowd. Everyone was holding food, drink, and a woman (in some cases more than one). Singing and dancing, drums and pipes, laughing and carousing made such a din the birds flew off to seek quieter surroundings.
Tristan chuckled. "Right. Savern is of the Warrior class, being old Fergus's only daughter. That means that certain procedures are in…hic…order when she chooses a husbad…sorry…husband."
Mozenrath had to struggle not to burst out laughing at his friend. He had never thought someone like Tristan could hold his liquor, but the Chief Druid had drunk three stout men under the table before starting to slur a little in his speech. "Go on." He encouraged.
"Well, when a warrior's daughter, or any noble born girl, finally chooses a husband for herself, he has to go through a kind of grace period. First, his father and mother meet with her father and mother and make agreements on the dowry. His isn't so much like selling off your children, as the property belongs to the daughter as much as the son, but more of a way of making sure that the new couple will have a comfortable, provided start." Tristan took another swig and chewed off a piece of bread for himself. "From there, the couple usually lives together for a year before finally wedding, just to make sure, but from what I understand our young Savern just had to have this one right now."
"Bull shit." Ossian snorted in good humor. "I think Fergus had a bit to do with the quickness of this marriage. He's tired of having to support that good wench and is glad to have her off on another." He belched deeply and chuckled. "Not to say Savern isn't happy. They said she damn near kidnapped him!" These words brought another loud whoop of laughter from the men surrounding them.
"That. The kidnapping business. What's all that got to do with a marriage?" Mozenrath said, not sounding nearly as drunk as he actually was.
"It's an old tradition, coming from back when we used to actually kidnap women as wives from other villages." Tristan answered. "The night of the couples wedding, right after the ceremony, the new bride is whisked off to her bedchambers, her father and a brother 'standing guard' at the door. Later on during the night, after the feast…"
"And after everyone's sobered up a bit." Ossian chuckled.
"The groom comes for his bride. He 'fights' through the brother and father, showing the brides family that he is a strong, capable man who is well and able to provide and protect his daughter and their future off spring."
"Then, he 'kidnaps' the bride, showing to her that he is head of the house hold, and has the final word in what happens." Ossian finished and was immediately smacked in the head with a large pan by his wife.
"That's my last word you puffed up old bastard!" She growled out at him as the half drunk man tried to apologize and retreat at the same time.
"It has another benefit as well." Iaine interjected as the men laughed and taunted. "The groom usually whisks her off to some unknown cabin in the forest for a week or so. It gives the couple time alone to get to know each other without prying relative eyes. By the time they get back to the husbands village, a new hut lodge is built up for them and their belongings have been moved. And…" added Iaine with an air of mischief. "The bride is usually good and pregnant by then."
"Ah, I see." Mozenrath chuckled and, carefully, slipped an arm around Iaine's waist. She smirked slightly, and leaned back against him. Their relationship had distinctly improved since the incident with young Pelles. She had still not given Mozenrath the opportunity to do a great many of the things he would like to be doing with her right now, but he was sincerely enjoying the close contact.
"Not that half of the brides aren't pregnant before the wedding even happens." She grinned. "We're a fertile race, strong blood and hearty folk make for quick and easy babies." She smiled. "I can hardly think of a year when there has not been at least a dozen children born. We may have to invade somewhere within the next five years just to make sure we have enough room!"
Iaine found herself in good spirits today. She was happy to see her dear friend married, but the choice had come as something of a surprise. Everyone had thought her tied up with the Druid Essus for a while when one day she was suddenly seen in the company of a visiting Bard from down south.
He was the last kind of person anyone could have seen young, beautiful, hot blooded Savern herself to. Bard Drutwas was…well…to put it nicely he was not of the fairer Celtic people. Straw colored hair that always seemed to hang shaggy from his head. A square jaw with a lopsided mouth and high cheek bones, he was no handsome lad. But Iaine had her suspicions as to why Savern had wed the Bardic man. After all, who in their right mind would look a gift horse like Savern in the mouth? Besides, she had heard Drutwas sing, and that voice was more than enough to make up for any outward shortcomings.
She looked across the commons area to where Essus was sitting. He didn't give one whit about his lover leaving, or if he did, he was well mollified by the pretty blond serving him ale. Iaine shrugged and sliced off a bit of cheese for herself. "I can hardly believe you've been here for a full turn of seasons Mozenrath." She said suddenly and looked him over. "I can't believe the man sitting at my side now was this skinny, pale little foreign boy with an ego big as all Erie."
"I wasn't all that bad!" He said, insulted.
"No…perhaps not…" Iaine leaned forward and quickly kissed his cheek. "But close." She was a little surprised at her own behavior. After all, she was usually quite forward and confident when it came to a man she set her sights on. But with Mozenrath she found herself playing to coy lass role. To be truthful she was enjoying the little teasing game. She could lead him on for a little while, giving him just a small sampling of what she truly intended, and then back away, as though embarrassed to have done such a thing.
But then again she had had a while to watch Mozenrath and learn his strangeness. He was, like many men, ultimately fickle and prone to impulse decisions. But what attracted her to him was how he could seemingly disappear into thought for hours on end, sharing his thoughts with no one else. Whatever he did, he did with a passion, a fever for learning and experience that nearly eclipsed her own. He was intelligent, a thinker, though could fight well as some of the younger men (if not the honed warriors). He enjoyed puzzles and mind games, a pleasure he could only fully indulge with Tristan. Mozenrath had an eye for beauty and a deep, secretive caring for weaker things that any woman would find intriguing.
It had taken her time to learn these things. Time of watching silently and listening to what others in the village said of him. A man like that was hard to get, even harder to keep, for, like children, they found constant excitement in anything new and unexplored. It was the kind of attitude that could be pleasurable and frustrating at the same time.
Yes, in order to have and keep a man like Mozenrath, Iaine would have to remain a woman unto herself. She knew she could love him easily (assuming she did not already), but he would have to discover that for himself. Keep him guessing. She was warned from inside. Keep him intrigued and entertain his mind as well as his body. Then…we shall see…