The merchandise on offer on the last stall in the row caught Sven’s eye. He’d wanted to buy a new purse for a while and the man had at least a dozen. Perhaps he should have a look while he was here.
He walked closer, congratulating himself for choosing market day for his visit to town. Not that he had come for that. He was here to see Eahlswith. But the two could be combined, could they not?
“What will it be today, my friend?” the seller enquired, when he saw him finger a dark leather bag that was decorated with, of all things, a wolf’s head. A sign?
“I’m looking for a purse. What do you have?”
“Here let me show you. I have just the thing for a man like you.”
Just then a woman appeared in the street to his left. Eahlswith. She was doing her best to shield herself from the wind with the hood of her cloak and her walk was less gracious than usual, no doubt due to the mire of half-melted snow and mud at her feet, but he had watched her too often to bemistaken. That hair, those curves… They could only belong to one woman.
It was her.
And she was just a few yards away. Luck was with him, because he’d been wondering if she would be at home. With no warning of his visit, there was no guarantee he would actually see her. But now he knew he would not leave town without having met with her.
“Wait a moment,” he told the Saxon, taking two steps to the side. The purse could wait, but she could not. “Alva,” he called out, gesturing in her direction.
At first she pretended she had not heard him. He called again. When she finally turned her head, the look in her eyes betrayed no recognition. Sven’s eyes narrowed. Pretending they had never met, was that how she hoped to avoid a conversation with him?
He took another step toward her but she shook her head.
“My name is not Alva,” she said, before turning her back to him and disappearing into a narrow alley, leaving him thunderstruck.
My name is not Alva.
Yes, she had told him many times she didn’t want him to use the name. And she had told him she needed time. And she had fled his village twice without saying goodbye. But never had her rejection been so brutal, so complete. She had behaved as if he were a stranger, no less. A week after her departure, she had obviously decided it was time to put what they had shared behind her.
This last blow was enough to stun him.
“So? Have you made your decision?” the Saxon behind his stall asked.
At first Sven had no idea what he meant. What decision? And how could he possibly know about him and Eahlswith? Then heunderstood the man was talking about the purse he wanted to purchase.
“Sorry,” he grumbled. “I’ll have to come back another day.” It was fair to say that right now, his mind was not on the wares on offer.
Body numb, he made his way to his horse which was tethered in the corner of the market square. In the last two days, while he’d waited for the comb to be ready, he had imagined all kinds of reaction to the gift he’d chosen for Eahlswith. What he had not thought for a moment was that she would pretend the two of them were strangers. Damn the stubborn woman! Well, if that was what she wanted to do, she didn’t deserve another moment of his time.
This time,hewould disappear and let her deal with the consequences of her refusal to accept what was staring at her in the face.
Vaulting on Gulltoppr’s back, Sven thundered out of the gate and started galloping back to the village. But as soon as he’d reached the forest, he came to an abrupt halt.
No. He would not be so easily defeated.
If this was to end, it would be ended on his own terms. He would not be ignored, not when he had done everything she’d asked—except stop using his special name for her, hardly a crime worth mentioning. She’d asked for time, and he’d agreed. He’d given her a whole week, damn it. It was not as if he’d gone to her to bed her either, to try and take advantage of the desire he knew he could provoke in her, he had only wanted to give her a present. She thought she could walk past him in the street, but if he cornered her in her house, there would be no avoiding him.
Sven shook his head, disgusted with himself. Since when did he think of cornering women, or anyone for that matter? He really was turning into a different man because of her. Well,that man would not be deterred, and he would go get what he deserved.
An explanation.
He turned Gulltoppr around and headed back into town. As he arrived back on the market square, he saw a familiar figure cross the street in front of him. Osbert. Sven cursed his luck. The old man did not see very well but a strong Norseman atop a white stallion was hardly inconspicuous. The Saxon’s attention might well be drawn to the unusual pair. Indeed, Osbert turned his head toward him and frowned, as if trying to remember where he had seen him before.
Sven nudged his mount into a trot before the old man could stop him and start asking questions. Not only were the two of them not supposed to be able to converse, but he didn’t want someone of Eahlswith’s acquaintance to know he’d visited her. There were limits to the level of humiliation he was prepared to endure.
He turned a corner and a moment later he was in front of her door. She opened on the first knock, which surprised him. After their encounter at the market, he wouldn’t have put it past her to pretend she was not in.
“Sven. You’re in town.”
“I am,” he answered, not impressed by her feigned surprise. “We met at the market earlier, by the stall selling leather goods. Don’t you remember?”
