The Witan had already heard Toste’s evidence, Esme’s recital of past sins against her by her family, and her father’s lying testimony of “only wanting what is best for my daughter.” Dunstan, to give him credit, ran a tight proceeding, not fooled a bit by any of them, least of all Blackthorne’s accounting of all the funds from fifteen years of water tolls. It turned out that the Crown had no objection to the practice, but it wanted its fair share in taxes. In other words, Blackthorne had not only been cheating his daughter, he had been cheating his king, as well. Not a wise political move!
Dunstan stood finally and said, “Lady Esme, I believe you have just right to Evergreen. And I am impressed by your fifteen years spent in a convent, and the letter of commendation I have received from Mother Wilfreda concerning your conduct there.” Everyone knew that Dunstan considered women instruments of the devil, and his attitude was evident in his condescending tone. “However, I am not convinced that a woman… even a woman with your skills… can run an estate on her own. You need the guardianship of your father till that time when you wed.”
“Nay!” Esme blurted out. She knew as they all did what this would mean. Either she would be forced to wed a puppet husband of her father’s choice, or she would be dead. Neither was a palatable choice.
Dunstan’s nostrils flared with outrage that a mere woman would question his decision.
“Your Grace,” Toste said, standing. “I believe I have a solution.” He glanced over at Esme beseechingly. This was not the way he would have chosen to bring up this subject.
“Ivarsson,” the archbishop acknowledged reluctantly.
Toste recognized that the priest considered the decision already made and did not appreciate any last-minute interference. But he could not refuse to listen. Too many eyes were watching… some of them politically powerful.
The archbishop nodded for him to go on. The curl of Dunstan’s upper lip seemed to indicate that he included Vikings in the same lowly class as women.
“I would take Esme for my bride. I would protect her and Evergreen. Though Viking by blood, I would swear allegiance to your Saxon overlord, if it would help Esme in her petition.”
Shock rippled around the room, especially from Blackthorne and his sons.
“Nay!”
“This is outrageous!”
“He’s a bloody Norseman. You can’t trust a one of them.”
These statements did not sit well with Dunstan, nor the Viking nobles who sat about the room, including Tykir, Eirik, Gorm and others.
“And what of you, Esme?” Dunstan inquired, as if he cared. “Wouldst accept Toste Ivarsson as your husband?”
Before she had a chance to answer, Toste interjected,
“Your Grace, Ealdorman, could I have one moment to speak to Esme alone?”
“Speak fast, brother,” Vagn said to him from his side where he’d been sitting. “And remember Alinor’s advice.”
Toste did not wait for the Witan’s approval but rushed over to Esme, who appeared stunned, grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the corridor.
“I love you, Esme,” he said right off. No one could accuse him of being a total lackwit. He could tell that his declaration was not what she’d expected.
“You do not need to say that, Toste. I appreciate your offer of marriage, but I would not have you sacrifice your freedom for me. You have done enough.”
“Not nearly enough. I should have told you earlier… I thought you knew, or leastways suspected. Did you suspect?”
“Suspect what?”
“That I love you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because ’tis not true.”
“Yea, ’tis.”
“When did you make this amazing discovery?”
“Just afore I left the woodcutter’s hut for Evergreen.”
She punched him in the stomach, which barely hurt, but he winced just the same. “What was that for?”
“For not telling me.”
“About going to Evergreen? I already apologized for that.”
“About loving me. You are a dunderhead.”
“Yea, I am. Does that mean you believe me?”
“I do not know. Say it again.”
“I love you.”
She smiled.
“Do you perchance love me, Esme?”
“Mayhap.” She was still smiling.
“Will you marry me?”