Walpurgis Night (11 page)

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Authors: Katherine Kingston

BOOK: Walpurgis Night
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“Now that we’ve sweated and licked all the dirt away, we use the soap to wash,” he said. The note of humor in his voice told her he appreciated the mild irony of his words.

They used another bucket of water to soap themselves.
Henrik
poured water from the bucket over her hair and massaged the soap into it, careful to be sure none dripped forward into her eyes. The feel of his fingers rubbing at her scalp and slipping along the strands of her hair would have been arousing were she not already so sated.

She did the same for him, in turn, and found a different sort of satisfaction and intimacy in the task of soaping his hair. It roused again that possessive longing to have more of him than just these few stolen moments. She fought back the tears and won.

“Come now for the last part of the bath,” he said, when she’d got his hair nicely full of lather. “The
part
that will make you feel refreshed.”

He drew her to her feet and led her to the door then out. She looked around, hoping no one could see them as they walked naked through the trees. They were alone, however, and she heard no sound of anyone else nearby. The cooler, drier air was a shock on her bare skin after the hot dampness of the sauna. It was naught compared with the shock when he led her along a path downhill to the river and waded right in, dragging her with him.

“What are you doing?” she yelled at him as he pulled her along.

“This is the final step in getting truly clean,” he said. “’
Tis
a shock at first, but get in it and you’ll find it refreshing.

At the outset, at least, it wasn’t refreshing at all, it was just cold. Her nipples tightened into pebbles and gooseflesh popped out all over her. She squealed as he plunged in, moving out in the water until he was up to his chest. He scooped up handfuls of water to rinse off his chest then ducked his head in it to wash away the soap in his hair.

Fianna
hesitated, but since she was already in the water, and had a head full of soapy hair, she followed his example. It was cold on her thighs then on her belly and her breasts. It was cold on her shoulders and in her hair when she dipped it into the water to rinse off the soap.

“Now jump up and down a few times to get your blood moving,” he advised. He held her hand and hopped with her, bobbing up and down in the water. After a few minutes she realized her body was adjusting to the water temperature and it wasn’t too unpleasant. Still, she didn’t object when he said it was time to go back.

They got out of the water and ran, hand in hand, up the hill back to the steam hut, laughing together like children, their wet hair streaming out behind them. They reached the hut and dressed quickly in the clean clothes left waiting for them. By the time she was dressed,
Fianna
had to admit that she did feel refreshed and revived in a way she rarely ever had. Perhaps the sauna and dip in the stream afterward accounted for part of that. It certainly wasn’t all.

As they left,
Henrik
stopped and pulled her into his arms. He didn’t kiss her or say anything, just stood, holding her against his body, her head cradled against his shoulder.
Fianna
didn’t need words to hear all he tried to tell her of his gratitude, his joy in her company, his liking, his sadness and his regret.

Tears began to form again but she held them back. She hadn’t spent so much time fighting tears since the days following her mother’s disappearance. And now she was faced with the loss of another she’d grown to care for. She drew a deep breath. She would have no regrets or sadness about this. The time with him had been a gift, and so she would regard it.

He sighed and let her go after a while. Hand in hand, they made their way back to the village and the hut where
Ranulf
lay.

As they neared the place,
an uproar
of arguing voices, tinged with some dismay reached them.
Fianna’s
stomach clenched as she wondered if
Ranulf’s
condition had taken a turn for the worse while they were bathing. But surely someone would have come to tell them had that been the case.

They had to push their way through a fair crowd of people to get to the room that held the patient and was the source of the disturbance. When they were finally close enough to see what was happening, she let out a long breath of relief.

Ranulf
was awake, alert and feeling sufficiently revived to want to get up and be about whatever business he thought needed his attention. Some of the group packed into the room attempted to keep him down. Others argued that he should be allowed to rise if he wished. At least those were the impressions she got from the tone of the various interchanges in Norse.

Then
Henrik
said something loudly enough to be noticed by everyone. The room quieted and people turned in their direction. He spoke again and motioned toward the door.
Fianna
needed no translation for those words. A few people argued, but most did as he directed and filed out of the room.
Ranulf
said something to a couple of them as they left.

When they were alone in the room with just
Ranulf
, he and
Henrik
exchanged a few words then
Henrik
said to her, “He says he feels strong enough to be up. Is this a good thing?”

“Let me look at his shoulder and we’ll see.”

Ranulf
lay quietly while she removed the bandage from the wound. He and
Henrik
exchanged a few words. The looks directed toward her suggested she was the subject of their conversation, but
Henrik
declined to translate.

Ranulf’s
injury looked significantly better than it had the previous time she’d changed the dressing. It no longer oozed so heavily and the swelling and redness were much reduced. The red streaks radiating from it had disappeared, and even the discoloration from the bruising was fading. She put more salve and a fresh bandage on it and sat back, looking at her patient.

He watched her with a glint of amusement wrenchingly similar to a look she’d seen on
Henrik’s
face. But then the grin faded and his expression grew serious. He said a few words to her.

Before
Henrik
translated, she guessed from the tone that he was offering thanks.
Henrik
confirmed it. “
Ranulf
knows you likely saved his life, and he offers you his gratitude.”

“Tell him he is welcome. Healing is what I do.”

Henrik
conveyed that to his brother.

“He also wants to know if he can get up,”
Henrik
added. “He says he is feeling much stronger.”

“He needs to be careful of the shoulder, but if he has the strength, then I think it safe for him to get up. Let him try to sit up for a bit first, though.”

As she anticipated,
Ranulf
experienced some difficulty just sitting up, even with his brother’s assistance. As soon as he managed to get himself halfway upright, he swayed and turned very pale. Fortunately
Henrik
was prepared to catch him if he fainted. He didn’t, but it was close. After a few gulps of air,
Ranulf
said something, and
Henrik
eased him back onto the mat.

“Tell him not to be too upset that it was so difficult this time,”
Fianna
asked
Henrik
. “It will be easier next time, and by tomorrow he should be able to sit up for a little while.”

As
Henrik
conveyed that information to
Ranulf
, a woman came into the room. She waited for
Henrik
to finish then spoke to him herself.
Henrik
nodded and answered, and
Ranulf
added something as well.

“My father requests we join him for a special meal to thank you,”
Henrik
told her. “
Ranulf
said he’d like to rest for a while.”

She nodded acceptance.
Henrik
escorted her to the largest of the longhouses in the settlement. On the way there,
Fianna
told him, “As
Ranulf
is recovering
well,
there is no need for me to stay here longer.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. “It will be well into darkness before we finish tonight. Stay the night and I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

“Well enough.”


Fianna
—” He stopped, both talking and walking. She halted with him, turning to look at him. She couldn’t read all the expressions that chased across his face, but the pain and distress were obvious enough.

He drew a long breath and let it out slowly. “Never have I felt for a woman the way I feel for you. It makes it difficult for me to know what to do now. For most of my life I’ve awaited this opportunity to go off and see the world, explore what it offers and seek my fortune. Yet now that the time has arrived, a part of me would rather remain here with you. Even do I
go,
a piece of my heart will remain always with you. I’d ask you to wait for my return, yet I know you cannot do that. A choice is being forced upon you.” He drew himself up as though bracing himself for an anticipated blow. “I know not…” He stopped for a moment before he said, “Do you ask it of me,
I’ll
not go. I’ll remain here and wed you myself.”

The miserable tears were starting to collect in her eyes again. His face showed no expression now other than a stern resolve, but she knew what it had cost him to make the offer. She understood the depth of the sacrifice he offered to make, admired him for it,
loved
him for it. In truth she loved him for all the good things he was, this strong, honorable, intelligent man who struggled to do what was right, whatever the cost.

She desperately wanted to say the words, to ask him to remain with her. Her heart had never wanted anything more. She could imagine no greater happiness than sharing a lifetime with him. But because he was willing to be strong and noble, she owed it to him to be likewise.

Chapter Eleven

 

She straightened her back and drew a hard breath. “Nay,” she answered. “Though I am grateful for your offer, and a part of me wants very much to say those words to you, yet will
I
not. You’ve told me how long you’ve waited for this chance to go exploring the world. Your heart yearns for it. Do you stay here at my request, you will never be completely happy. Always there will be something missing, and someday you’ll begin to ask yourself what you might have lost for your loyalty to me. I would not be the cause of that. I love you too much to settle for a man who yearns for something else.”

“My heart yearns for you too,” he answered. “It is being torn in half. I know not how to choose.”

“I am choosing for you,” she said. “The man I love now is not the one you will be in a few years if your yearning for adventure and new sights be not assuaged.”

His face tightened into an expression of pain. “I wish… You could wait for me here,” he offered. “My father and my brother will shelter you and protect you.”

She considered it for a moment then shook her head.
“Nay.
It will do naught but cause disruption and possibly conflict between your village and mine. Should I return to town to serve someone who is ill, I’d do so under the shadow of death. Yet, did I not accede to someone’s pleas for
help,
there would be anger and hard feelings about it. And should they learn that I’m here and yet unwed, I’ve no doubt
Artur
and the others will seek to capture and claim me.”

He nodded slightly then continued to stand there, watching her. The pain and conflict in his eyes was more than she could bear. She took his arm and turned him toward the longhouse. “It is settled. Do not tear yourself apart over it. You will go on your adventuring, and when you finally return, rich, sated and ready to settle, if we’re meant to be together, there will be a way.”

She remembered the vision she’d seen in her dagger’s jewel. In some way, he was her destiny. “There will be a way,” she repeated, as much for herself as for him.

Use what you learn from the dagger wisely
, her mother had told her. Why was wisdom so difficult and so unclear?

He nodded again and they went to the longhouse where a crowd that surely comprised most of the settlement was already gathered and waiting. A round of cheering erupted and those who were seated stood as they entered the room.

A series of trestle tables were pushed together, end to end, to make one very long table that filled most of the space in the room. At the far end,
Henrik’s
father waited. Two empty seats remained beside him at the head of the table.
Henrik
escorted her there and seated her in the middle place, where she would be between him and his father. The end of the table accommodated two people comfortably. Pressing her in between made it somewhat crowded, but neither of the men flanking her seemed to mind.

Servers carrying laden trays began delivering food. Each course of the many served that night were presented first to the three of them at the head and then passed on down the table. The quantity and variety of the offerings astonished her. They really had gone to considerable effort to make this meal a special thanks to her. At least three varieties of meats were offered, bowls of assorted vegetables, baskets of fragrant breads and an assortment of fruits. Considering that it was spring, with no harvests yet in, they must have emptied some larders to accomplish this. She hoped no one would be short later as a result.

But to spurn anything would be to insult their efforts, so
Fianna
ate until she could hold no more without danger of exploding. Accompanying the food, pitchers of a strong-tasting, potent drink were passed around to fill the cups by each person’s place.

When she asked
Henrik
about it, he told her, “’
Tis
mead, a drink of fermented honey. If you like it not, I can ask them to bring you water instead.”

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