Chapter Fifteen

She awoke. The house was silent and Brynhild was certain that she was alone.

Taranc had been there when she fell asleep. He had remained with her as she lay on the bed, held her in his arms as she drifted away.

Brynhild shoved herself up onto her elbow and knew from the thin strands of light that penetrated the slight gap around the door that it was not yet sunset. She felt as though she had been asleep for hours, but seemingly not. Her body hurt, both from the residual pain of the switching and the inner torment of emotional upheaval that threatened to drown her. She churned with it, unable to settle, unable to gain any measure of comfort or relief.

He had said they need not marry. Indeed, he had withdrawn his offer, only to then assail her senses yet again with a taste of all that she stood to lose by shunning the opportunity to become his wife. To be wife to anyone, since if not Taranc then who? There would never be another who would come close to handling her demons, who might come face to face with her tormented soul and not turn away in disgust.

She had resigned herself to this, had believed herself content. Now, she was far from ready to accept the lot she had assigned herself.

He had ruined it, ruined her . Nothing would ever be right again.

Brynhild rose gingerly from the bed and made her way back across the room to where her clothing still lay folded on the bench beside the table. She dressed as quickly as she could and pulled on her sandals. She was not sure where she would go when she opened the door to peep outside, but knew she needed to be away from this place. She needed air. She needed to think. She needed to grieve for the girl she left behind in that meadow ten years ago.

Of course, she ended up at the manor house. Dughall, her friend, mentor and, she supposed, surrogate father now, found her in his solar, curled within the window seat there.

"I had not expected to see you today." He eased himself into the space beside her. "I heard you and Taranc had words."

She let out a mirthless chuckle. "I expect everyone heard. It was not quiet."

"Are you injured? A switching is not pleasant."

"I am not injured."

"I see. Taranc was here earlier. He tells me you are not after all to wed."

"No. He withdrew his offer."

"He explained to me that it was your wish that you not marry. You are content with this outcome?"

"It is best. He is right, we are not suited."

"Taranc is a fine man. I would have welcomed him as my son, had things played out differently."

"I know." Brynhild covered her face with her hands. "He is a fine man. I trust him, I like him. I believe that I could come to love him. I… I wish I could wed him."

"Indeed?" Dughall raised an eyebrow. "I believe we might all be forgiven for having failed to grasp that. I daresay that you could have him as your husband, even now, but you must tell him if that is your wish. He will not force you."

"He does not want me, not really."

"I suspect he does, though he has his pride and will not ask you again. You have made your wishes in the matter clear enough."

"My wishes? What do you know of my wishes?" Her words came out more harshly than she had intended and she was instantly contrite. Brynhild had no wish to vent her bitterness on this kindly old man. She had harmed his family quite enough. She raised her head to look at Dughall, saw him through a veil of tears as she started to sob. "What does Taranc know? I do not even understand what my wishes are, except that I wish it could all be different."

Dughall remained silent as she wept. He offered no further comment or comfort save the occasional pat on her knee. He waved away the servant who entered to tend the fire.

At last Brynhild raised her tear-ravaged face again. "You must think me very foolish."

"I think you very troubled, and I would dearly like to understand why."

Her laugh was bitter now. "You do not. You would hate me if you knew and I could not bear that."

"I could never hate you. You are as my daughter. I have come to love you and I want to help. Taranc does, also, and he will if you let him."

She shook her head. "He will not. He will think me dirty, a slut, not worthy of him. No one can help. No one can change what has passed."

"Harsh words. What have you done to deserve them?"

"I cannot tell you."

"There is someone else? A man back in your homeland, perhaps?"

Brynhild shook her head. "No. Not anymore."

The old eyes gleamed with wisdom and a lifetime of experience. "But there was. Do you love him, this other man? "

"No!" She glared at Dughall, the very notion laughable. "I… I thought I did, but I was wrong."

"Did he love you?"

Her laugh was without mirth. "No, he did not. He used me and would have hurt me. He… he tried to rape me."

Dughall frowned, his face darkening. "What was the name of this man?"

"He was called Aelbeart."

"A Celtic name?"

Brynhild nodded. "He was a slave, a thrall in my village. I fancied myself in love with him, but I was young and foolish. He tricked me, convinced me to trust him, then one night he… he… I was so frightened. My mother caught us and she was angry. She blamed me, I know she did. After it happened, Aelbeart was sold. I never saw him again."

"You must know that not all Celts are vicious beasts. Not all would act as this Aelbeart did. I am a Celt, as is Taranc. You know Taranc would never countenance such behaviour. Do not judge all Celts by the actions of one vile individual."

Dughall was right. The adult Brynhild knew it, but the frightened child somehow managed to remain in control of that part of her battered soul. It had to end, she knew it. Dughall was right. It was time to grow up.

Dughall reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Go, find Taranc. Talk to him. Tell him of this, tell him that you wish to marry if that is truly what you want. Ask his help. He will give it. You can trust him, you know that."

Brynhild nodded and closed her eyes. "I do know."

"He is on the beach, I believe, helping to land the day's catch."

Taranc would never allow others to work whilst he looked on in idleness. It was one of the characteristics of his leadership that Brynhild most admired, but she did not believe she wished to raise this matter with him in the company of the other fishermen.

"I shall wait for him at our home. "

"Ah, yes, probably a better plan. Will you eat with me before you leave?"

On impulse Brynhild leaned forward and kissed his wizened cheek. "Thank you, Lord Dughall. That would be nice. I… I do not deserve your kindness."

* * *

After their meal Dughall walked with her to his door then remained at the portal and followed her with his eyes as she strode across the village where he had lived his entire life and onto the path leading back to Aikrig. Perhaps he might yet welcome Taranc into his family as his son, though the daughter was very different.

Dughall shook his head sadly as he turned to go back into his home. Life here had seemed so simple once, before the Vikings came.