Bold (The Handfasting) - By Becca St. John Page 0,28
me. I’ve made that clear. But, I will also make it clear, should you give yourself to me, between the end of the Handfasting and now, should you find that there is no better for either of us, then the priest will bless the union, whatever season he finds us..”
“Aye, Aye” the men cheered, the women sighed and wept, caught in the thrill of a courtship unfolding.
“Ma?” Maggie tried once more, but her mother only shook her head. It was Maggie’s decision to make, and no other. In truth, she dinna’ have a choice.
“I will think on it.” She hedged.
Talorc shook his head. “No, Maggie, my people, our clan, they are waiting. They want me to bring you back with me, to settle you in amongst us before the Feast.”
“It is not possible,” she countered “I have to be here for Fleadh nan Mairbh. I promised Ian.”
She’d startled them all, judging by the mumbles and grumbles of the people.
“Maggie,” Talorc watched her closely, “you do not invite the dead to come near.”
“He was my twin.”
“You have a right to your life. His time had come, do not invite yours away.” Talorc spoke with caring, for everyone knew that the Feast of the Dead was a time of caution. It was a time to hide from the folly of those passed beyond. No one would court such danger.
“It would be more to your purpose to create new life to fill that void. To give your child the name of Ian, in his honor.”
“No." She backed away from his words as the snare of them tightened.
“The two of us, together, this very night.”
“But. . .”
“Marry him Maggie, Marry him . . .” The cheers rang through the hall, the stomping the clapping the voices raised in unison to billow and settle around her.
“Not tonight.” She cried.
“Then in the morn, Maggie, for we leave when the sun shows herself.”
The chorus had died down, all eyes intent on Maggie and Talorc.
Maggie turned to face them all. “It is what you want?” She cried out, one last plea to the people.
“Oh aye, lass,” Old Padruig played the spokesman, “there’s no better for you or for him!”
“Do you all agree?” She shouted, bringing on another resounding cheer. “Then I shall do it.” She promised with a nod of her head. “And the consequences be upon your heads.”
Pivoting, she faced Talorc, “In the morn. There is too much to do tonight, if I’m to leave at daybreak.”
He raised their hands high as everyone joined in cries of delight. As soon as she could, Maggie spun away, headed toward the stairs that would take her up to her room. Chairs and benches scraped back as her mother and kinswomen hurried to join her.
They reached her first, though Talorc was not far behind, despite the delay of those who wished to toast his victory.
“Maggie?” He stopped her.
“Aye.”
“I’d thought,” he leaned in, whispered for her ears alone, “that you would prefer to have our first night together here, with your mother close by to attend you, settle you.”
She stared at him, at his lapse in conviction.
“Are you saying I’m to be so terribly alone when away from here?” When, not if. She’d given her word.
“No,” he shook his head, frowned, “That’s not what I was saying, have no fears on that count. It’s just that a mother is a mother . . .”
“And you chose to take me from mine. So be it, if there’s any guilt in that, then feel free to feel it.” She snipped.
His frown deepened, though he failed to respond. With a tilt of her chin she swirled away, her entourage of relations a wake of women behind her.
“Tomorrow.” Talorc shouted when she was halfway up the stairs.
Maggie stopped, looked down at the man she would handfast in the morning. “Tomorrow,” she promised with a grim determination, so at odds with the enthusiasm he obviously felt.
Tomorrow she would be promised to a man, bold in his battles, both on the battlefield and off. Life would never be easy. If she thought getting her own way was difficult with her brothers and a bear of a father, winning concessions with this man would be all the harder. Hadn’t tonight proved that?
* * * * * * * * * *
Maggie scrambled to hide as the earth quaked and shook about her.
“Maggie . . . Maggie, wake darling, ‘tis time.”
Groggy with sleep she stirred, opened her eyes. A circle of candles surrounded her bed, lighting the dark of