Stephen Lawhead - Scarlet

My heart went out to them. I had endured captivity in the sheriff 's odious hellhole, but they were no less captive here. The wildwood of Coed Cadw had become as much a prison as any that the vile de Glanville held key to. It was clear to me then, if never before: this sorry state could not be endured much longer. God willing, our bold King William would soon give us redress, and Bran and all us forest folk could move out into the light once more.

In amongst the young 'uns I saw little Nia's face poking out. I turned and scooped her up. She did not cry out, but twisted in my arms to see who held her. "Weo!" she squealed, grabbing my beard with both hands. "Wee-o!"

Bless her, she was trying to say my name. "It's me, dear heart. Ol' Will is here."

From among the flock gathering to greet our return, I glimpsed Angharad, hobbling forward on her long staff, her wrinkled face alight with pleasure. "I bid thee glad homecoming, William Scatlocke," she crowed, her old voice quavering slightly. "The Lord of Hosts is smiling on this day."

"Greetings,Wise Banfaith," I said, offering her a bow and touching the back of my hand to my forehead. "It is that good to see you again."

"And you,Will." She drew close and stood for a moment, smiling up at me. Then, closing her eyes, she raised her hand and touched two fingers lightly to my forehead. "All Wise and Loving Father, we thank you for redeeming the life of our friend, delivering him from his enemies, and bringing him back to us in answer to our prayers. Bless him and prosper him for your name's sake, and bless all who think well of him this day and all days henceforth."

As she prayed, I felt Noin's hand squeeze my arm. I thanked our bard and then turned to the others who were crowding in to make good my welcome. "Here now! Here now!" came a shout, and I was enwrapped and lifted off my feet in a rib-cracking embrace.

"Tuck!" I said. "Are you here, too?"

"Where else should I be, but among my own dear flock on the day of your miraculous return? We've been waiting for this day with a greedy impatience, my friend," he said, his round face beaming. God bless him, there were tears in his eyes.

"Brother," I said, pulling Noin close, "if you are not too busy, this lady and I are that keen to be married. If you have no objection, I want you to perform the ceremony today."

"Today!" replied Tuck. "Today, says he! Well!" To Noin, he said, "Is this also your desire?"

"It is my deepest desire," she replied, her arm around my waist.

"Well, then," concluded Tuck, "I do not see any reason to delay." He glanced around. "What have you done with Bran and the others?"

Casting a glance behind me, I saw my travelling companions standing on the top of the low natural rampart that surrounded Cel Craidd. I called to them. "Why were you standing there?" I asked when they had joined us.

"We wanted you to have a proper greeting all to yourself," Iwan explained.

"And would you leave me standing here alone on my wedding day?" I said.

"Oh,Will! Noin!" cried Merian. She pressed Noin's hands in hers, then kissed me lightly on the cheek. "This is such good news."

We then endured the good wishes of Bran, Iwan, and the others in turn, and I was pummelled good-naturedly by one and all. When the festive drubbing was finished, I turned to Tuck and said, "Friar, I'd be much obliged if you could perform the rites without delay." I glanced at Noin and saw the desire in her dark eyes. "As soon as may be."

Tuck nodded and adopted a solemn air. "Is it your wish to be married to this man?" he asked.

"It is, Friar," she replied. "I would have done it long since, and there is no better day that I know than this, and I would mark it always in my heart as the day my man was given back to me."

"Then so be it!"

Turning to the Grellon crowding around, the little friar called, "Hear now! Will and Noin have declared their desire to be married. Let us give them a wedding they will never forget!"

If I had any notion of simply saying a few words before the priest and carrying off my bride to a little greenwood bower in the manner of my English father, that idea was dashed to pieces quicker than it takes a fella to spit and say "I do!" The forest folk fell to with a will. I suppose the safe and successful return of the rescue party was the best excuse any of them had had to celebrate anything in many a month, and the people were that eager to make a fair run at it. Noin and I were immediately caught up in the preparations for this sudden celebration.

The cooking fire was built up; partridges and quail were pulled from the snares, then plucked and spitted along with half a young wild pig, and six coneys and a score of barley loaves set to bake. The children were sent into the thickets to gather raspberries and red currants, which were mixed with honey and made into a deep red compote; asparagus and wild mushrooms were likewise picked, chopped, and boiled into a stew with borage and herbs; the last of the walnuts which had been dried over the winter were shelled into a broth of milk and honey; and many another dish to make the heart glad. Whatever stores had been set aside against even leaner days were brought out for our wedding feast, and it did rightly make a humble man of me, I can tell you.

While the men constructed a bower of birch branches for us to enjoy our first night together, some of the women gathered flowers to strew our path and for Noin to carry, and one or two of the younger ones helped dress the bride and make her even more lovely in my eyes.

As for myself, with little else to do, I set about trying to drag a razor through the tough tangle of my beard. I succeeded in cutting myself in such extravagant fashion that our good friar took the blade from my hand, sat me down and, expert barber that he was, shaved me clean as a newborn. He also combed and cut my hair so that I appeared almost a nobleman when my clothes were brushed and my shoes washed. He found a new belt for me and a clean cloak of handsome green. "There now!" he declared, like God regarding Adam with a critical eye. "I have made me a man."

I thanked him kindly for his attentions, and observed that my only regret was that I had no ring to give my bride. "A ring is a fine thing, is it not?" he agreed. "But it is by no means necessary. A coin will do; and some, I have heard, have a smith bend the coin to make a ring. You might easily do this."

This cheered me no end. "You are a wonder, no mistake," I told him. "I can get a coin." And, leaving the friar to his own preparations, I set off to do just that.

The first person I went to was Bran. "My lord," I said, "I do not think I have asked a boon of you since swearing the oath of fealty."

Lord Bran allowed that, as he could not think of any occasions, either.

"Then, if it please you, my lord," I continued, "I will make bold to request the small favour of a coin to give my bride." I quickly went on to explain that I had no ring, but that Tuck had said a coin would serve as a suitable token.

"Indeed?" wondered Bran. "Then leave it to me."

Well, we were soon caught up in countless small activities and the mood was high. Before I knew it, the sun had already begun its descent when our good friar declared that all was finally ready and we gathered beneath the Council Oak to speak our vows before our friends. Tuck, scrubbed until he gleamed, and beaming like a cherub fresh from the Radiant Presence, took his place before us and called all to solemn purpose. "This is a holy time," he said, "and a joyous celebration. Our Heavenly Father delights in love in all its wondrous forms. Especially dear to him is the love between a husband and wife. May such love increase!"

This brought a rousing chorus of agreement from the onlookers, and Tuck waited for silence before continuing. "Therefore," he said, "let us ask the Author and Sustainer of our love and life to bless the union of these two dear people who have pledged life and love to one another."