I'll tell you my tale now the babes are safe a-bed. We must needs keep our voices low though, I’ll not have them waking before the morn.’ She sits at ease near the fire, a goblet of wine at hand and the carafe ready to fill yours. The woman is wrapped in wool and furs in effort to stave off the bite of the falling evening but you still catch the glint of twin bronze brooches at her chest and the subtle warmth of the amber beads joining them.
I am afraid this is not an exciting tale full of hardships and heroes,' she smiles ruefully, 'mine is a simple life though I think myself richer than many above my station. I am the only child of a merchant family living on an isle in the Baltic Sea. I was well loved and indulged by my parents and my father would take me with him when he was trading and I was able to see many wonders. When I showed an aptitude for the writing arts my parents made arrangements with some of the monasteries on the island where I was able to learn the basics of the art.’
Pausing in her story she bustles away, returning with several works in hand. Offering them to you she quickly digresses into the intricacies of laying gold leaf and creating ink from walnuts, the excitement and pride in her art is palpable. She catches herself mid-sentence and laughs aloud. ‘Forgive me I still get excited sharing all I’ve learned.’ She puts the parchment away and settles herself back by the fire. “I count myself lucky to be able to learn at the monasteries for as long as I did. While most of my age-mates were married and dreaming of growing their family I was learning to appreciate a fine ink and how to prepare parchment. ‘
She turns now listening in the direction of her sleeping boys, though they have made no sound. ‘Being a maiden could only last so long though. My parents, however tolerant of my pursuits, were making rather broad hints regarding the lack of grandchildren to ease their aging. At this time my father was planning a venture to Novgorod and I pressed him until he allowed me to join him. This concession was bought with my promise to enter a marriage contract and provide those grandchildren upon our return.’
The woman pauses with a secret smile and deep sigh. Following her gaze you see a man bantering with a group on the other side of the fire. Almost as if he knows she is watching him he meets her gaze, a slow smile at his lips and a promise in his eyes. Blushing she composes herself and takes a breath. Nodding toward the man she takes up the tale, ‘He is Ormr, my husband, my children’s father, my friend. We met in a market during this last trip with my father. Taking our time inspecting spices for possible trade I chanced to see a man further down the aisle. I thought him handsome but rather staid, until I saw him smile. I took leave of my father, feigning hunger, and made my way toward the delicious smell of baked goods and this serious man. Over the course of our stay I found a reason to visit my serious baker every day in the hopes of making him smile for me. By the time my father was ready to continue on I wasn’t. That day I was the solemn one when I visited the baker for the last time. My dismay was evident enough to make him concerned. I told him of my imminent departure but instead of being appropriately upset he smiled. Smiled! Not sure how to respond I muttered some pleasantry and made to leave. My father came up beside me and with one arm preventing my exit shook hands with Ormr with the other. My confusion was plain but they were obviously enjoying their little ruse. I learned, after calming down, Ormr approached my father with an offer of marriage. My father was well pleased as Ormr, having a trade, could support me as well as protect me and any children because of his training in combative arts. My father, as well knowing my feelings toward Ormr, was easily persuaded (no doubt thinking of the aforementioned grandchildren) and made the necessary arrangements. They decided to maintain ignorance as I went about calf-eyed and stuffed full of breads and pretzels.’
Grinning at the memory, she shakes her head at the follies of a girl lost in the heady rush of courtship. 'I was quite lucky in my match, not every maid enters marriage with a man she knows, much less loves. Our first son was winter-born and later, a summer son. My mother passed from this world with her last wish granted, my father is puffed with pride in his grandsons, and Ormr and I settled into a lovely routine; life.’
Stifling a yawn the woman empties her cup, nods politely to you, and once again catches the eye of her husband. ‘You must excuse me, the night wanes and the children still wake at the same hour regardless of what rest we steal.’
You watch woman and man depart and realize she was right, her story may not be an epic saga but it is rich and sweet and true.