Sunniva chose the long way home from the south field, where she had been haying. There were more creeks and fences to jump that way, and she loved the sensation, the power of soaring upwards with a mighty horse beneath her, as though she were floating with invisible wings. She flicked Sootens reins and nudged his glossy barrel with her bare heels. He responded immediately, stretching his ebony neck and his long ebony legs to canter across the flower-filled meadow. Sunniva was unaware that men and women alike stopped their haying to watch her fly past on the great stallion. She seemed a warrior-girl with the face of an angel, excitement shimmering in her expressive dark-blue eyes, her masses of flaxen hair lifting in the wind as freely as the stallions flowing mane, her lavender kirtle bound high so that her long legs gleamed whitely against her mounts jet blackness. She laughed with the joy of it as Sooten stretched, lifted, and effortlessly took the jump over Solby Creek. She still could hardly believe he was hers, a gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday last week. Sooten whinnied, shying suddenly to the left, and it was only Sunnivas natural skill as a rider that prevented her from losing her balance and being thrown off his bare back. She had automatically tightened her calves and thighs around his barrel as she gently applied the reins. Easy easy easy, she crooned, sounding calm but her heart was galloping. What was it that had frightened him so? Stopping at a safe distance, she swiftly removed the bow slung across her back and notched an arrow into it. She waited, her steady gaze fastened on the thick stand of bushes bordering Solby Wood. There was a deep growl, and as Sooten nickered and pawed the ground, Sunniva raised her bow. Easy, Sooten, she whispered, sighting down the arrow. Steady, old lad, easy. A large silver-gray wolf came out of the woods, his head high to sniff the wind. As he gazed at Sunniva, his great plume of a tail twitching, she knew it would be easy to drop him where he stood. But he was so beautiful, so majestic, she hoped with all her heart that he was no threat. When he finally blinked his green-gold eyes at her and returned to the woods, she sighed in relief. Thinking of all the chores awaiting her, she returned her bow to her back and signaled Sooten to gallop. Giving herself to the warm wind and the sun, she raced headlong beside greening fields, past waterfalls and bounded over more creeks as she neared Lilleby. With the serving-folk in the hayfields most of the day now, she and her parents had the servants work to do in addition to their own, and Sunniva wanted her chores all done before eventide. She was going to meet Raven. A smile curved her mouth at the thought of him. He and Ulf had been at sea, home-bound from an overlong cruise, during her birthday celebration last week. But now they were here and neither had forgotten her big day. Raven had brought her a gift from Dublin, a lovely ivory comb studded with shining deep-blue gems. But she wondered if he had yet another gift for her—for why else did he want her to meet him in the orchard at the sunset hour? When shed questioned him, he would only grin, his gray eyes teasing. Arn Mellby was bringing his herd in for milking when his daughter galloped up the road and into the courtyard as though a fury were chasing her. She was a vision—her long spun-gold hair blown by the wind about her beautiful face and her eyes the color of larkspur, her slender body erect, hands in complete command of the great black beast. Although he watched her deft handling of the stallion with admiring eyes, Arns mouth was tight. What meant the girl, pulling her skirts up so high that every man in the valley could feast his eyes on her legs as she galloped by? Was this how she rode Sooten? Half-naked? By the gods, the girl sometimes showed no sense at all. Her high spirits always had been a problem, and now her ever-blossoming beauty was another. Not that he regretted it—nay, she was the treasure of his life. In fact, he was over-proud of her fairness, but these past several years, it had become a grave concern. Every bachelor and widower in these parts wanted her to wife so that there were hard feelings between neighbors over her, and bitterness toward himself, although it was Sunniva who refused them. He watched his grown child dismount gracefully, shake out her lavender kirtle and toss back her mane of hair. He noted, curious, that not only were her cheeks rosy, but her face and arms, usually so white and luminous, were pink and glowing also. And her eyes sparkled. Doubtless it was Sootens doing, he thought with great tenderness. He minded not at all that she might possibly love him less than the great beast he had given her. He pulled in a deep breath. For certain she would love him less when she learned he had finally betrothed her and that Sooten was a gift of conciliation, a bribe for her good behavior. Ay, it was what many fathers did, this giving of their young maids to men without the maids consent, but it had always been distasteful to him, a thing he himself had hoped never to do. But he had been in such a bind, what with Sunnivas turning up her nose at all who asked for her and his neighbors growing angry, that last month he had taken the matter in hand. He had given her to an old friend of his in Bergvin. Holy Thor, what else was a man to do? The maid was well past the age of betrothal. By rights, she should have had a babe or two by now. Papa! Hello! Arn managed a smile. How goes it, my treasure? Oh, father, tis hard to believe Sooten is mine. I can never thank you enough. A thousand thanks! Sunniva raised her arms and gave him a hug and a kiss on his bearded cheek, just as she had when she was tiny. But those days were past, Arn thought sadly. His masculine eye saw the lush swells beneath her coarse wadmal kirtle, saw the rounded perfection of arm and throat, the tenderly curved cheeks and chin, the gold-fringed eyes beneath the sweetly-arched golden brows, the graceful feminine body. He sighed. Sunnivas beauty was of the sort that men seldom saw. He himself had rarely seen her like in all his travels, and of late he had begun to worry that it was a beauty men might kill for. Rolf Gunnarsson leapt to mind. Not that the Northland chieftain had actually threatened him when he was refused Sunnivas hand. The fellow was far too wily a bird for that, but the fury in his eyes had chilled Arn to the bone. It was but one of the reasons hed gone ahead and chosen a husband for her. Eirik Paalsson was a wealthy Bergvin merchant of forty-two winters, a comely man, tall and strong, and he would protect Sunniva well. But he would rule her, thought Arn. Gently, of course, but rule her he would, more than her father ever had. And although Arn felt a woman needed that, especially a strongwilled maid like Sunniva, his heart was burdened by the thought. He had brooded long over his April meeting with Eirik in Bergvin where the latters fleet of merchant ships nearly filled the harbor. You say your maid is fair, old friend? Eirik had asked. Ay. In truth, Eirik, I have seen none other who can compare with her. Methinks tis a proud father speaking, Eirik had answered drily. Nay. Sunniva is a true beauty, man, I swear it. Is she healthy? Ay. She bursts with health. She fairly glows with it. But you say she has a mind of her own. Tis not a good thing in a woman, that. I wish twere otherwise, but tis the way of it, man. I cannot lie about it. But she responds well to kind treatment. She has known naught but kindness, Eirik. I am not one to mistreat women, Arn, you know that, but I do expect obedience. No maid feels my hand who knows I am master. Ay. Arn had nodded glumly. Is her breath fresh? And are her hips broad enough to bear children? Arn had stiffened. This is my daughter we are discussing, not some damned heifer for sale. Eirik had neither apologized nor backed down. These things matter to me, old friend. His voice was gruff. I want sons this time, having naught but daughters, and my first wife had black teeth and breath that made me puke. I have never smelled her breath, Arn had muttered, struggling to suppress his anger, but I trow she can give you as many healthy sons as you crave. That at least is to the good. Arn had felt sick to his stomach while they discussed the dowry and a wedding date, and when they finally struck hands, sealing the bargain, he was sick all over. But the man was a good one, he assured himself, and being comely into the bargain was a boon. Sunniva was sure eventually to appreciate that. And basically, Eirik was a kind man at heart. He would be good to the maid as long as she minded him. Arn sighed deeply. Now he himself needed the heart and the courage to tell Sunniva and her mother what he had done. Jesus Blood, he would have to choose the moment wisely. Papa, are you all right? Sunniva gazed at her father curiously, concerned by the sudden change in his mood. Tis just that I am behind in everything, what with the servants in the fields all day. How goes the haying? Tis near done, and if the weather holds, twill dry fast. We do the east field tomorrow. Good. Shall I help you with the milking after I dry Sooten? Nay, these maids are help enough. He indicated the daughters of their serving-folk. Well, then, I will be in the kitchen-house with Mother after I finish. She turned Sootens head toward the barn. Sunniva . . . She looked back and saw him frowning. Ay, father? Mind you lower your skirts when you ride, girl. His voice was sharp. Tis not proper, the amount of leg you show, a high-born maid like you. Sunniva gave a merry laugh. Papa, who would notice? Every man in the valley with eyes in his head, Arn growled. When Sunniva sniffed her disdain, he added, Were you to meet a band of those damned rogue Danes, they would think you naught but a common wench they could toy with. At that, Sunniva grew solemn. Twould be amusing to see them try. Sooten can outrun anything, and no one dares toy with this—or this! She patted the delicate but deadly jeweled dagger at her belt, and indicated the bow slung across her back. Mayhap so, but I am master of this steading, lady, and I say lower your skirts from now on. He looked so stern that Sunniva blinked in surprise. Ay, Father, she said quietly, sensing it was no time for teasing. I always do. Tis just that my mind was—on other things. It had been on Raven and on his mysterious command that she meet him later. What was it all about, she wondered again, turning Sootens head toward the horse-barn. She dismounted, took up a wadmal rag and began working it in vigorous circles over Sootens steaming black coat. Her thoughts were filled with how wonderful Raven looked after his long weeks at sea, so tanned and strong and handsome. She smiled at the memory of his black beard. He always grew one on cruise and she wasnt at all sure she liked it. But he was home safe, that was the main thing. Her heart pounded harder. 0h, she was so glad he was home . . . As Sunniva greeted her mother in the kitchen-house, she wondered if she herself would ever be such a woman as Anna Mellby, giving orders for this to be put into the oven at such and such a time, for that to be prepared just so, and the floors swept thus and spread with rushes, and the boards to be placed on the trestles and decked. The competent, contented mistress of her own manor. Raven had given Sunniva a talking-to one snowy night long ago and ever since, she had tried hard to be a better daughter, diligently working at her spinning and weaving and sewing and such. The chores had bored her then and they bored her now, but her doing of them so pleased her parents that she had decided it was well worth it. Mayhap she would enjoy the chores more when she had a beloved for whom to do them. Sunniva, your cousin is fetching more onions from the store-house, her mother said. Run and fetch more carrots, too, and some turnips, and mind you help with the peeling. Ay, Mother. Sunniva lifted her skirts and ran. No one dallied when Anna Mellby issued a command, and soon the two maids were settled on a bench by the back door with a basket heaped with vegetables between them. Although her cousin lived close by, it seemed to Sunniva that Inge was at Lilleby more often than she was home. Sunni, why are you not yet betrothed? the girl asked, of a sudden. Sunniva was taken aback. Inge was a mere babe of twelve winters. How could she possibly be interested in such things—or had she heard folks talking? A maid gets betrothed, Sunniva said gently, when she finds the man she loves, Inge. I have not found such a man yet. My mother says love has naught to do with it. She says a maid and a man must wed when their families wish it. Sunniva shrugged. Mayhap with some maids that could happen, but not with me. My father has promised I will have a say in the matter. He knows I would never wed a man I did not love. Inges eyes were like blue saucers. What if you get so old and wrinkled waiting for the man you love that he wont want you when you find him? Then what will you do? Sunnivas laughter rang out. Tis hardly likely, Inge, but twill be time enough to worry if it happens. For a certainty she could not—nay, she would not—marry the sort of man who thus far had asked for her. Last month alone there had been three she could not abide: one with a fat red face and piggy little eyes, one so hairy he minded her of a bear, and one who had squeezed her breasts and kissed her on the mouth when they were alone. He was a chieftain from the Northland, a man of great importance and glorious to look upon, but he had frightened her so, she had smacked his face hard. She shuddered at the thought of waiting in her bridal bed for any of the lot of them. Methinks I will do the same as you, Sunni, said Inge. Methinks I will not wed til I fall in love. My man must have yellow hair and blue eyes and a nice hard backside. I could not abide a man with a fat behind. Sunniva threw back her head and laughed again. The imp was positively precocious. I agree, except I want my man to be dark. And tall? Inges eyes were dreamy. Sunniva nodded. Certainly tall—and lean. A hard lean man. Methinks I could never be happy with a soft plump man, she said, scraping a carrot. Nor I, Inge sighed, working at a turnip. My man will be tall and lean and hard and broad-shouldered. Sunniva grinned. That sounds even better. What color of eyes, Sunni? Sunniva thought for a moment. Gray, methinks. Like an eagles! Inge was enthusiastic. Fierce gray-gold eyes. Such a man would protect you well from any marauding Danes, Sunni. When had the child become so interested in men? Sunniva wondered, amazed. What a romantic little thing she was, and what a contrast to herself at the same age when she could think of nothing but horses and skis and bows and arrows. Caught up in the spirit of the game, she added: My man will have black, silky hair, I trow. Blue-black and gleaming. Like a crows wing, breathed Inge. Not a crows wing, silly, a ravens wing. A ravens wing then. Mine will have silky hair, too, only twill be yellow. Like cornsilk. Have you ever run your fingers through a mans hair, Sunni? Nay, Sunniva murmured, nor had she ever wanted to, but now she grew quiet thinking of the possibility. Sunniva! her mother called from within the kitchen-house. What is keeping you two with those vegetables? We are just finished, Mama. Good. Get them in here and get them to boiling and ladle out that first batch. We will have a crowd of hungry folk here before you know it. Inge, help get the boards down. As they obeyed, Sunniva heard Inges high-pitched chattering and laughing, heard her mothers voice going on about decking the boards and slicing the bread, but it was as if she herself were moving through a sea of syrup. She placed the vegetables in the bubbling vat, ladled the cooked ones from another vat and got the dishes and cups from the shelves. She tried to place them on the boards, but she was slow and clumsy. She kept seeing silky black hair and far-seeing gray eyes and a tall, lean body. Raven . . . She was shocked. Raven was her dear friend. He was her almost-brother, her happiness-maker, her teacher, her confidant. It was easy enough to understand why she might want the man she wed to look like him, for he was handsome and a chieftain. But there were more things to consider than good looks and bravery when picking a mate. Her beloved must be gentle and kind and tender with her; he would laugh ever so easily and not mind her independence and her silliness and . . . Sunniva blinked and sat down abruptly on the corner seat, her heart thumping so that it was hard to breathe. Was it possible? Was it Raven Trondsson whom she loved? Sunniva! Whatever ails you, child? Anna Mellby exclaimed. Here they all come now, in from the fields. Did I not tell you to get the boards decked? Inge, take those platters away from your cousin and deck the boards. Tch! I cannot imagine what ails that maid . . . http://www.hardshell.com/enchantress.html |