fort. In the yard, some of the older men were training boys with wooden practice swords. Katerina came up beside her father and added a parting shot to their argument. "If they can teach boys, they can teach Ivan."
Father rolled his eyes, but she knew he would try to make this betrothal work. He would do it because that was the only hope for the kingdom.
At the verge of the forest, Nadya was returning to her hut to get back to her weaving - so much work left to do, and never enough time, now that the days were getting so short. She had tried weaving in the dark, once, but nobody would have worn the cloth that resulted, so she pulled it out and did it over and never tried such a mad experiment again. Everything had to be done in the precious hours of daylight. Everything except make babies. Another reason to get done with her work as early as she could. Even though all but one of their babies had died after only a few days, it didn't stop her husband from trying. And with each pregnancy, Nadya had new hope.
But she was getting on in years now. More than thirty years old, and her body wearied of more pregnancies. Their only living child, a son, was a cripple, deformed from birth and then the same leg injured in childhood, so what was already withered became even more twisted and stumpy. Others muttered sometimes that there was a curse on Nadya and her family, but Nadya paid them no mind. She did no harm to anyone - who would put a curse on her? She did not want to start thinking of her neighbors that way.
Not even the strange little old lady who stood leaning against the wall of Nadya's hut. She came in from some distant, lonely forest hut. Nadya always shared food with her and treated her civilly, because you never knew who had the power to curse and because if her husband died before her, Nadya herself might be left on her own, hungry and alone, since her only living child was not likely to earn much bread - still less any to share with her, since her boy had given himself to the Christians and spent all his time with Father Lukas.
"Good evening to you," said Nadya.
"New and news!" cackled the crone.
"You have tales from abroad?" asked Nadya. "Come in, and I'll give you bread and cheese."
The old woman followed her into her hut. "News from Taina!" said the old lady. "The princess is back!"
"I know it," said Nadya. "I was there in the village when she returned with that naked fellow."
The old lady sniffed, clearly offended that Nadya didn't need her gossip.
"But I'm sure you know more about it than I do," said Nadya.
The old lady softened. She took a bite of dry black bread with a nibble of cheese. "I hope you have a bit of mead to keep my throat open."
Nadya handed her a pot of mead. The old lady quaffed it off like a man, then giggled in a way that made Nadya think of some chattering animal.
"He's not much of a fellow, this man she brought back to marry," said the old lady.
"He saved her from the Widow's evil trap. Isn't that enough?"
"You think so?" asked the old lady. "You really think that's all that matters?"
"He saved Lybed, too, they say. Though Dimitri beat him for it afterward. Isn't that a mean trick?"
The old lady smiled mysteriously. "He might have deserved the beating after all. For another reason."
"Why? What do you know about him?"
"I know he was wearing this," said the old lady. She reached into her bag and pulled out a tattered, stained hoose. Nadya recognized it at once as being of fine weave, with a delicate pattern woven into it. Her own work. She had given this hoose as a gift to the princess, and Katerina had been wearing it when she pricked her finger on the spindle and was carried away in her sleep.
"He wore it?"
"He demanded it from her. So he wouldn't get scratched up walking through the forest. But the cloth had no comfort for him - see how the fabric tore to let the branches through so they could scratch him anyway? That's why he cast it away. Because a Christian woman's clothing will not bear the insult."