I love you, Esme.
Wait for me.
Gone… gone… gone…
Esme awakened just after dawn with a smile on her face.
Toste was absent, but that didn’t concern her. He’d probably gone up to the castle to get them some food… and clean bed linens.
Replete from last night’s bedsport, she fell back to sleep and did not awaken till mid-morning. Almost immediately, she realized that Toste had not returned. And the fire was out.
Rising warily, she looked across the room and saw arranged on a chair, her gown, shoes, hose and a cloak. She did not have to check the door to know that it was unlocked. It was clear that Toste had left the clothing so that she could return to the Ravenshire keep.
And it was equally clear that he would not be there when she did. He was gone. He’d had his fill of her, even before her “punishment” was completed, and this was his way of releasing her from their pact.
She sank to her knees on the floor and sobbed out her pain. It seemed that once again, her dreams were not to be fulfilled. She snuffled and wiped a hand across her dripping nose. Standing, she began to don her clothes. She would return to the castle; she would fight for Evergreen.
But she would never be the same again.
* * *
Chapter Fourteen
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Love hurts…
By early afternoon, Esme was back at the castle.
Although her eyes were probably red and her nose puffy from crying all morning, she had no more tears to shed. And, surprisingly, no one at Ravenshire made any mention of the activities of the past sennight and more—not of her taking Toste captive, then his taking her captive, not even of Toste’s current abandonment of her. It was as if the past thirteen days had not even happened. She suspected that everyone had agreed ahead of time not to discuss those things to spare her embarrassment.
Ravenshire itself had changed dramatically in her short absence. Mistletoe and holly were arranged everywhere, even hanging in swags from the rafters. Esme was not surprised to see mistletoe amongst the other greens in this partly Norse household. The custom of kissing under a piece of mistletoe was often associated with Balder, a beloved Viking god similar to the Christian Jesus Christ. Balder had been killed by a mistletoe arrow and restored to life by a sprig of mistletoe. Thereafter, Vikings considered the sight of it a signal that the kiss of peace and love should be given.
Fragrant candles burned in practically every corner. Delicious odors of foods being prepared for the upcoming feast wafted through the castle—roasted boar, red deer, chicken and duck; salted cod, pickled kidneys, creamed eels and the loathsome lutefisk; honey cakes, dried apple tarts and sweet raisin custards; hard and soft cheeses, including the Viking skyrr, mountains of breads, especially the loaves of circular manchet bread with the hole in the center which were arranged on long broom handles in the scullery. And of course Lady Eadyth’s famous mead, supplemented by a batch of Margaret’s Mead which had been left behind.
Many of the guests would arrive tomorrow, but already the castle overflowed with extended family and friends, all with children running hither and yon. Of course, there were Eirik and Eadyth’s twin seventeen-year-old daughters, Sarah and Sigrud, but two other daughters had also come home, twenty-four-year-old Emma who worked in an orphanage in Jorvik, and Larise, the twenty-six-year-old widow of a Northumbrian merchant, not to mention the darkly brooding son John of Hawk’s Lair, who was much too somber for his twenty-five years.
Also still in residence for the holiday season were Tykir and Alinor and their four wild sons. The boys had been teaching Abdul some yuletide ditties, some of which were rather naughty. Between the bird’s squawking and the children’s squawking, it was hard to think… which was a good thing in Esme’s case.
Among the early guests were Adam from Hawkshire with his wife, Tyra, along with their baby Edward, who was crawling everywhere, an Arab servant named Rashid and a clumsy twelve-year-old boy, Alrek, who tripped over everything in sight. Adam was a noted healer; beautiful Tyra, a giant of a woman, was a soldier. Amazing people!