Silver Hammer, Golden Cross: Book Six of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga by Randolph Octavia

Author:Randolph, Octavia [Randolph, Octavia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Pyewacket Press
Published: 2017-02-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter the Fourteenth: The Bride-price, and the Bride

THE four at that small table were now all standing.

“Burginde, please to bring Ashild,” asked Ælfwyn.

Burginde’s knees unfolded, and creaked upright. She left her wool-ball on the wolf-skin spread covering the bed, and disappeared out the door.

Asberg was studying Thorfast’s face, looking for signs of strain. The man was notably cool considering the trial he was under, and Asberg must admit it.

Asberg’s eyes now went to his nephew. Hrald looked as uneasy as any who had ever pledged a vast treasure. Nearly a quarter of their horses would follow Ashild if she made the short journey to Turcesig. Hrald’s bold offer was almost a challenge, and in any other instance Asberg would have protested so great a dowry. But Thorfast proposed nothing less than a single defence to be formed between Four Stones and Turcesig. And the bride-price he offered was something out of the Sagas, like unto a price offered for a Goddess. There was more than a touch of magic in his naming this Ashild’s value to him. His thoughts strayed for a moment to what Wilgot the priest would say of such an offer; he would rail against it a heathen thing, he guessed.

Ælfwyn was holding the silver ewer in her hands. Its cool substance helped ground her own flitting thoughts. In a few moments her daughter’s future might be decided, and by Ashild herself. She tried to take comfort in that one fact.

Burginde returned, Ashild in tow. The nurse resumed her stool, and again took up her wool-winding, eyes cast down at her work building up the ball of thread.

Ashild neared the table, then paused. All were looking at her; the air felt charged as if lightning were about to strike. Thorfast was nearest her, and she let her eyes meet his, bowing her head for an instant in greeting. Her eyes next sought her mother, who smiled at her, with lips pressed firmly together. Next she looked at Hrald.

His arms hung at his sides, his palms turned slightly towards her and open. He stood upright, yet there was a slackness about him, an uncertainty that showed not only in his stance but in the single furrow on his young brow. If they had been arguing her bride-price it should be Thorfast who looked so. She saw Hrald’s eyes fasten on her face, and sensed the stress and pressure her brother bore for her sake.

Her uncle began to speak, just as Hrald too opened his mouth. Asberg yielded to his nephew. Despite the way her brother looked to her, Ashild could not but note the firmness in Hrald’s voice.

“Thorfast has offered a great sum as your bride-price. If you accept him fifty head of horses will follow you to his hall.”

Ashild lifted her chin higher at this news, and needed a moment to take it in. A maid’s bride-price was set by her kin. Had Thorfast offered his own sum before they had named her price? And had Hrald

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