“Are you sure, my dear?” Osbert didn’t seem to suspect anything.
“Yes, I told you he is Cwenthryth’s husband’s brother. I trust him,” Eahlswith breathed. “He will not dare do anything to inconvenience me.”
Sven could only agree. Inconvenience her was the last thing he wanted to do. Nevertheless, as he was supposed not to understand a word of the conversation, he remained impassive.
“Let’s eat then,” the old man decided, gesturing at the table. “I daresay the Norseman will be famished after all he’s done.”
Sven sat down gratefully. Not only was he relieved to hide his lap under the table but he was indeed famished. His bowl was filled up first and he plunged his spoon in it as soon as everyone was served. Mm. The soup was just as tasty as the smell had promised, and the bread crusty and fresh. Sven did not even pretend to refuse when Eahlswith filled his bowl again moments later. He was too ravenous and the soup too delicious for that.
“Dear me. The man eats for three!” Osbert exclaimed. His own bowl was still half full. “Oh, what it is to be young and healthy. Mind you, I was never as strong as that man, far from it.” He chuckled. “But I never got any complaints, if you know what I mean. Some women like a gentler touch. My late wife, God rest her soul, was like that. There was nothing she liked better than being licked and that is something even the puniest of men can do. She would beg me to?—”
“Osbert, please stop!” Eahlswith chided, going red to the roots of her hair. She had stilled at the word “licked”, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. In truth, Sven himself had flinched. It was not often you heard such talk at the dinner table. “Really, you shouldn’t be telling me this.”
Sven worked hard at pretending he could not understand what was being said and busied himself pouring more ale to everyone. He liked the old man, who reminded him of some of his father’s friends. And indeed, he agreed with him. Some women liked a gentler touch. But most liked their lovers to be tender at times and assertive at others, and he was glad to be able to provide both options, as well as a few others.
“Come, my dear. I know you agree with me considering that Edwin?—”
“Oh no!”
Eahlswith stood up abruptly and stared at the soup stain on her dress. Had she dropped her spoon on purpose, so as to interrupt a conversation that was making her uncomfortable? Sven couldn’t help but wonder. The gesture had seemed particularly clumsy on her part. But perhaps she was prone to such mishaps. After all, she had dropped the cask of ale on her foot the other day.
“I’ll have to wash that now,” she lamented, staring at her bodice.
“You will find fresh water in the bucket over there,” Osbert offered.
“No, thank you,” she answered, gesturing that they should leave. This was his cue, seeing as he was not supposed to understand what she was saying. “I think I might as well do that at home now. It’s almost time to go to bed anyway.”
Under the table Sven’s groin manifested its approval.
Yes.
Time to go to bed.
The fire was reducedto embers by the time they reached her house. Muttering to herself for her carelessness, Eahlswith she set about rekindling the flames. It would not be too difficult, as she had all she needed, but having had no lively fire for a whole afternoon meant that the house was far colder than she would have liked. In this season it was not a good idea to let the fire die out. Why had she not seen to it when she had come to get the salted pork earlier? Because she’d been distracted by the appearance of Sven, that was why. Well, she would have to regain her composure, and fast.
She was about to spend a night alone in the same room as Sven. She would need all her faculties to ensure it did not end in disaster. In the summer she had surrendered to the violent desire he had provoked in her because she’d imagined it was safe, because she would never see him again. Since then she had discovered he was her best friend’s brother-in-law. If she wasn’t careful, this could end badly.
Once she had a satisfactory fire going, she went back outside in search for food to give to Sven’s horse. Godgifu at the end of the street had an old nag and might give her a bucketful of oats in exchange for the remainder of the spices she had bought the other day. Indeed, her friend was all too happy to swap the oats for the precious commodity.
“Here,” Eahlswith told Sven a short time later, as he was making his stallion comfortable for the night. He’d already filled a bucket with water. “Some food for him.”
“Thank you.” The smile he gave her could easily have beguiled her, if she’d let it. She didn’t. Instead, she gave the mighty beast a stroke on the neck. For years she’d wished she could have a horse. But they cost money to buy and to feed, money she didn’t have. Besides, she rarely left town. Why would she need a horse?
“He’s beautiful,” she whispered, knowing she would have chosen one just like him if she had been able to. “What’s his name?”
“Gulltoppr.”
She arched a brow, having expected something far more obvious like Ghost or Snow, given his pristine white coat. Gulltoppr. Though the name was unusual, she was sure she had heard it somewhere before. Where? It was obviously Norse, so it had to be one of the deities or creatures Cwenthryth had told her about.
“It means Golden Mane,” Sven explained, ruffling the shiny mane. “Gulltoppr is a horse belonging to one of our gods so it seemed appropriate. At the village, all the horses are descended from Demon, the stallion my father bought upon his arrival from Iceland, so they bear the name of a dark creature. Demon, Imp, Grendel, Satan to name a few. We are getting short of ideas, to be honest, and might have to start reusing the same ones.”
“Perhaps from now on you should start giving them names of other animals. They can be quite fearsome too. Hawk, Bull, that type of name.”
“Mm, yes,” he said, detaching a bag from the horse’s saddle. “That’s a thought.”
After one last pat to Gulltoppr, he followed her into the house.
“Thank you for welcoming me here tonight.”
