Chapter the Fifth: Youth
#5 of A Stage of Destinies
Riadne sat cross cross-legged on a chair sipping water from a cup as the sun burned oppressively overhead. Her freedoms to run the property with her sisters had yet to be restored, and she pouted constantly that she was confined to the fenced in yard area around her father's domicile. A week of house duty with restrictions on passing the threshold of the home area was taking its toll on her morale, and her mother was beginning to see more and more of the young girl's malaise apparent in her every movement.
A cold wind blew pleasantly in from the north, and she inhaled the fragrance of the woodlands it brought to her. The temperature descended to a much more tolerable level and the young vixen smiled dotingly on the symbolism the moment held for her. She sighed leaned her head against the chair as the manifold legion of grass around her swayed gently around her in a terpsichorean celebration of the Arctos that all nature seemed to rejoice in. A cool, beautiful wind from the north, she thought to herself as she eyed the tiny form of Adrian who carried bundles of harvested crop in a distant field.
Gretchen watched her daughter from a window as the girl lounged her free time away in distant admiration of the young foreigner who had been awarded room and board by her husband some eight suns ago. A part of her was pleased to swooning at the gentle dance of life that played before her, and memories of her own childhood played pleasant reels of cinema in her mind. Her more sensible adulthood however was continuously worried for the future of her beloved girl and wished endlessly that the boy would simply move on as she so expected he would. She wanted more than anything for her husband to realize the danger in trying to save this boy from the tyranny of the engine of his youthful humors and send him away. There were many instances where the influence of a woman will push a man to see some folly in his actions, and relent to her good grace. Sometimes the male would even be pleased to give his wife her way. She didn't dare press the issue this time.
A lifetime of experience settled into a carefully discerning wisdom, and expert appraisal of her husband's ways and methods. She could certainly enough push the issue of her extreme displeasure in his plan to manipulate this boy into settling, and saving him from the turmoil of a tortured past, but even she realized how cold it would seem. Samuith would send him away to his fate, one that would surely be a lonesome and tragic end with no one to mourn him, but then he would see something in her that he either wasn't able to divine, or was unwilling to acknowledge. Gretchen's pragmatism bordered on cruelty when it pertained to the safety of her family as she saw it, and her husband's generosity and endlessly proactive spirit was prone to fancies of how he could make this hard, merciless world a little bit more amicable to its inhabitants. He'd never look at her the same way if she threw this boy to the hunter-lizards to suffer his own fate, and a rift could develop that she'd never be able to close.
She looked over the young girl that she had held wet and bloody in her arms some fourteen summers earlier as the relief of labors end allowed her blessed rest in exhausted unrest. The culmination of nine months of suffering and fifteen hours of agony always filled her with a joy incomparable to anything else life had to offer her. Her husband's gentle comforts mixed with the kits scream of rage at being forced headlong into the world outside and coalesced into a symphony of meaning, and purpose that cast the stabbing throbs in her loins into distance, and unimportance. She smiled at the thought, and placed her hands on her childless womb.
She had experienced that feeling eight times in her life, and a similar feeling far more often as she spent the time to rear the products of said ecstatic rituals to the age that they since grew to. Her eldest boy would soon be married as only a year separated him from customary manhood. He already had his eye on a vixen from the village that Gretchen found homely, but endlessly sweet and kind hearted. She considered that to be a very good union. Her daughters of various ages grew closer and closer to womanhood and would soon join her in the knowledge of what it meant to create life with a man whom they deemed worthy of love, and submittal. She sighed deeply as worry passed over her. The others still stared and joked about local boys, most of whom had good parents, and were hard, responsible workers. Then, of course, there was Riadne.
The passing of days failed miserably to separate her doting from the exotic Beduin youth, and her mother grew more and more concerned for her future. At her husband's behest she had met the kit for a conversation on the days previous to this one. He did have this air about him that one might call an old soul, but she could see in his eyes that there was little hope of his settling in one place. A brilliant fire raged in him despite his continuously calm exterior, and some wounds were set so deep that they could never be mended. Riadne was sweet and patient, but she was still only a kit. This boy didn't need a wife, or an interest in one to settle the war that ravaged his soul, he needed his own mother and father. Though Samuith was determined to be father to him, and hoped she would aid in replacing his mother she knew she could not. Her children were bright, vivacious and filled with a burning lust for life in all of its pains and joys. Adrian of Beduin Born contemplated only death and some dark ambition that prodded heartlessly at his tormented shade. There would be little chance of saving the young fox, because his life was already ended, and his true body lay bloody by his father's in whatever ill fated village had spawned him prior to its culling.
Riadne's hand lazily hung from the chair, and she scratched lightly at a domesticated hunting lizard that lay lazily in the sun beside her. She smiled down at the pretty markings of grey, green, and brown that spotted its scaled hide. Her mother looked her over again. Such a pretty young thing, she thought, so like I once was. She looked down at her own hands which once maintained the softness her daughter's still bore. Long years of hard work, and peaceful, yet difficult living had long dragged the youthful beauty from the old vixen. It didn't really bother her. If it began to, she would soon after find her husband staring at her like a school boy as though some sixth sense in him let him know of her insecurity, and a night of passionate camaraderie would follow. She smiled at Riadne's face, and arms that were still smooth and slender with her beautiful youth. Her own loss of fairness seemed less a loss, and more a gift for her children at this moment, and the thought warmed her heart. "Use that pretty face well, girl" she said softly, "because the making of it helped to take mine away."
She shook her head and left the window to return to her chores. She was yet still too young for such dotage, and wouldn't like to succumb to the fixations of old age just yet. There was much to do after all; kettles to boil, clothes to wash, children to tend, and husbands to please. Keeping busy kept one young, and with a house as full as this one the old vixen may just live forever. She chuckled at the thought, and wondered whether or not that was a good thing as she vigorously chopped at the floor with her broom.
Riadne sat in her room and lounged by the window as the laziness of digesting a recent meal worked its way through her. Her sister had long put the light out, and was working towards falling asleep behind her as she sighed deeply. The smell of the night wafted pleasantly through her nostrils and the cool air was an agreeable blessing after the heat of the earlier day. Below her, a much smaller house stood out against the darkness thanks to an illuminated window, and the sight of smoke in moonlight. She wondered what he was doing this late as she cast a look behind her into the lightless room that she and her sisters shared. Both of them were asleep, or very near to it and she coveted the peace of mind had allowed them to reach such a state. She sighed again, returning her gaze to the guest house that encapsulated the object of her affection.
A small movement captured the young vixen's attention, and she leaned out the window a little to see what it might be. The distant figure of a young man strode out into the yard with a stack of bundles and wood, and set about fixing them into the ground. She observed him curiously as he worked and the better part of an hour sped by in observance. Her elbows rested on the lattice, supporting her chin with her hands as the Beduin fox went about his baffling effort.
Finally his toil ended, and he stood back a bit to look over what he had accomplished. Essentially there was a network of poles, and standing bundles of reeds set about to whatever purpose he divined in them. She sat enthralled as he drew his weapon. Even at this distance its shining length captivated her as the moon reflected all of its borrowed radiance off of the blade. It went to work slicing bright arcs of hoary moonlight through the night, and she all but swooned at the skill of his practice. He stepped light-footedly between the poles in a motion that was nearly a dance and the symphonic resonance of his weapons clack-clack report settled poignantly into her brain. The sounds of his saber striking off of the poles, and slicing through the reeds fascinated her young fancy and drowned out the gentle snores and breathing of her sisters.
Sweat dripped down Adrian's brow and chest as he dipped and swung his blade in carefully developed rotes passed down through hundreds of years in the Beduin bloodlines. His muscles burned with exertion both from his exercises and from the day of labor that preceded them. He was working a little harder than usual. Maybe because he had some uneasy premonition of trouble or maybe because he knew he was being watched. He could always tell when he was being watched...
He sighed and sheathed his weapon as the last of the reeds fell, and walked over to the thickest pole. He ran his fingers over the ropes that were tightly wound about it. A pale memory of his past ran through his mind as his eyes narrowed. In the next instant his fist struck the pole causing it to vibrate slightly with the force of his punch. A second blow landed as he began a new dance to harden his fists and legs into weapons almost as important as his sword.
The weapon in question came into his mind with the suddenness that might be seen as panic in a lesser creature, and in the next instant it came to his hand. Someone was sneaking up on him, a fool thing to try on one of Beduin Born! He spun swiftly around to defend himself against who ever was there, and stopped quite amazedly when the image of his stalker came into view. Riadne stood silent struck, wide eyed and amazed as the razor keen edge of his saber rested against the side of her neck. He slowly withdrew it, and frowned at the vixen for her hazardous interloping. A thin string of blood ran over her collar bone and across her breast as she slowly brought her hand up to the wound.
"You should be more careful" he said in an irritated tone as he wiped his blade with a rag that looped over his belt, "I could have taken your head off. Thank Dalma that I'm quick enough to recognize you." The vixen stared in awe of him, and he looked at her with a casual aggravation.
"I" she said weakly as she pulled her hand to inspect the slick, wet liquid in her palm. She looked back up at him with a sort of hurt shock.
"You?" he said mockingly, and slid his weapon back into its sheath. "Is there more to that, or are you sufficiently surprised and in need of help to finish it?" He looked down at her, and crossed his arms. A look of amusement crossed his face as he considered her predicament and his reaction belied an iciness that hinted at cruelty. Her ears fell back and her features lowered while she looked for something clever to say in response.
"I see" he said coldly, "Very well then. YOU need to go back to bed, and let me tend to my business. I have much to do before I can go to sleep, and YOU are not allowed this far from the house, especially unsupervised with a man. I have a tenuous contract with your father, and a fair amount of hard earned respect that I don't plan to lose because YOU don't know what is good for you." He lifted an eyebrow, and watched her cringing at his condemnation. This wasn't something that he needed right now. He needed to train himself so that he could raise an army, not curtail to troublesome maids who don't know how to handle their infatuations, or obey their exceedingly benevolent fathers.
Riadne almost cried at the callousness in his tone. She wanted to run from him, and lay down on her bed whilst weeping herself to sleep, but she concluded that she didn't deserve such derision and she wouldn't leave until satisfied.
"I" she said in a proud tone that elicited and immediate groan from Adrian "am old enough to go where I will without having to ask hither-to from my parents. YOU are very rude, as I was only coming to ask if you needed any help with your exercising, or if you would like a chilled cup of juice from our cold-box. I know you have nothing but water in the guest house and it isn't particularly cold this time of year. But if you are so sure of everything, my intentions included, I'll simply leave you without. My father whose hard-earned respect you speak of wouldn't brook such rudeness to one of his daughters from someone whom he VERY generously employed when he could have left him to wander the countryside penniless, and vagrant." She crossed her arms in mockery of him and smiled with stubborn pride in herself.
"Besides" she added, "You cut me, and you insulted me. Both are unbecoming of a gentleman, so you should apologize to me." She puffed out her chest and looked sternly into his eyes with her nose raised ever so slightly. "I won't leave until you do."
Adrian sighed deeply in aggravation. He turned around and went back to punching the rope-wound pole felling quite aggravated at her persistence, and interruption of his sport. His blows carried little skillfulness in this endeavor but rather it served simply to vent. These damned southern foxes, he thought to himself. Its not wonder the Sherftii hate us so much, they were probably schooled by these whelps. He mused for a moment at their complete lack of manners as he ignored the lingering presence of the girl behind him.
Riadne's smile faded as he wordless returned to his work, and her little heart pounded with injury. The Beduin went on about his pounding for a few moments then looked over his shoulder at her. She stood defeated in the pale iridescent light of the even-star with her shoulders slumped and an obvious look of hurt on her face. Upon catching him glance at her she picked herself up a little and attempted to show defiance. She crossed her arms again, and pulled her shoulder's mimicking the pride he displayed in his every movement. The boy leaned against the pole behind him and inspected her. Well, he thought to himself, irritating or not, at least she is pretty. She flipped her head a little to flip a lock of her deep black hair behind her shoulder.
Adrian looked the girl over for a moment. A vixen on the verge of woman hood undoubtedly. Her body had seen the full change of growth whether her foolish manners had or not, and she bore a very fair face aloft her more sensual features. He paused for a moment as something struck him. Her eyes stood out amongst the rest of his appraisal more captivating than any other point of attraction that the other men on the farm spoke of. There was something there more enthralling for the young warrior than any rude sexual organ. Her eyes, bright green, defiant and filled youthful exuberance and life in spite of the hurt they displayed were nearly identical to someone who had been very dear to him. He swallowed hard, almost showing a hint of the emotion that he hid for only his own council.
"I'm not leaving you until you apologize, so you'll have to say you're sorry for cutting me if you want to get rid of me" the vixen intoned. She stood and waited for his response. She had heard that the Beduin were warriors born and bred, and hoped that maybe a little defiance would spark his interest.
"Well" he said after a long pause, "I suppose if you're going to be there, you could get me that juice you offered me. That is if you'll brook my insult." He watched her appraisingly taking in her reaction.
Riadne's heart lifted a mile at his response. He didn't attempt to right his actions, but were they really his fault? Perhaps that meant that he didn't want her to leave after all. She smiled, and trotted towards the kitchen leaving him along to his council with only the bright satellite of the night sky to observe his council. Adrian sighed deeply. This was certainly a bad idea. Letting the girl have his company would surely be discovered eventually, and then he might never get paid. He was growing worried at the man's insistence of waiting to give him his wage, because he was otherwise very nice. It seemed to him that this might be some cruel joke at the expense of a foreigner. He needed the coin, but in the meantime he could be satisfied with free room, and food. His eyes scanned the dark house and he concentrated on trying to find any evidence of their meeting being observed. The fox' eyes drew back to the ground as the vixen returned with a cup, and he took it.
It was indeed sweet, and he enjoyed drinking it. He hadn't had anything that was very cold or as sugary in a very long time, and the juice reminded him of happier days of his life. The vixen smiled broadly as she read his expression, and felt deeply prideful of her devices. He may pretend he doesn't like her now, but she'd win him yet. Adrian brought the cup down from his lips, and wiped them with the back of his paw. He looked the girl over again, and sighed deeply.
"Well, since I can't get rid of you, you may as well follow me" he said, and started towards the guest house's entrance. "I have to oil my weapon before your blood burns it. That is one place you can't stay, because it means life and death in the right place and time." He strode quickly away, and Riadne hustled to keep pace with him. He was inviting her into his home she thought, and her heart jumped with elation and heady rebellion. She followed him into his sitting room where they spent the night chatting until he talked her into going home before she was found missing. He was right after all she didn't want to be punished.
The days passed more quickly for Riadne as each sun crossed the sky and her parent-imposed incarceration continued. She didn't even mind being confined to the house any longer, and her chores were a brief fit of fancy that couldn't dampen the spirit of her youthful hysterics. She no longer moped about, but rather seemed to float from place to place. This new change in behavior did not go unnoticed by her discerning mother, and worry crept ever closer to her maternal heart. The older vixen found her self growing fiercer and more consumed with protective instinct as she became further convinced of her daughter's philandering.
Riadne could tell her mother noticed and that she was secretly disconcert with her apparent brightening of sentiment. The girl had good reason to feel superior though, and wouldn't allow her mother's silliness, and controlling nature to darken the glorious intoxication of her mood. Life blossomed fully in her young bosom, and love waltzed her in every action she partook.
Her father noticed as well, and worried at it in such a way as a father will. He spent several nights restlessly wondering if he was being careless with his own child, and contemplating the words of his wife. They were in some ways true. He was taking a risk trying to help the boy who worked so hard for the coin he had yet denied him. If he could succeed it would be well worth it. His paternal possessiveness warred with his aging acceptance of the release of his beautiful child, and its inevitability. She'd need a strong man to take care of her, as much as that man would need her to take care of him. The only issue that really troubled him was whether or not the Beduin would make a good candidate. If he'd only just settle down, then maybe some of that rage in him would cool...
Adrian noticed a bit of a change in himself. He had entertained the exuberance of the vixen for several days now, and he was finding that days passed a little slower in waiting for her to arrive when the rest of her family was safely asleep. It was slowly becoming the highlight of his day those precious few hours spent with his employer's daughter before she slipped carefully back to bed. He had never particularly looked forward to the end of a workday before except perhaps to collect. He now didn't care if he was paid or not. His precious time with the sweet young vixen was enough. His father had schooled him carefully about the emotions of a maid, and how one must be careful in how one dealt with them. More and more the sensible voice of fatherly wisdom quieted to the natural order of his maturing body. He smiled dreamily as he thought of the girl, and wondered what they would talk about tonight. It had been a long time since he felt so connected to another person, and it surprised him that he would feel such emotions for a southerner. Perhaps he was too hasty in judging them, especially considering the man who owned this farm, because he had proven himself kind, and wise.
After some time, Samuith noticed a change in the boy as well and his mind rested much more peacefully. He was growing a little distracted, and slower working, but he could catch him occasionally smiling, and it gave him hope for the child's redemption. He decided the girl's house duty should probably end, and took to personally keeping an eye on her outside of her notice. It warmed his heart to see the subtle interactions between the children. She would bring him water, and he would thank her distantly, but then flash an eye that told her more than his words ever could. From time to time he would watch them from a far hill as they sat under a tree and lounged their scarce free time away in affectionate company. It always surprised him that no matter where he hid for his caring observances, Adrian always seemed to glance in that direction nervously.
Time smoothed, and pacified as the holes in Adrian's heart slowly filled with love for a bright-eyed, dark haired vixen. Dreams of her seemed to mercifully replace dreams of his home and family as the months passed, and his tempers cooled in tempo with the changing seasons. More and more work was assessed as the fall rapidly approached and the crops grew to the age of harvest. There was a real beauty in it for the young fox. He hadn't been there to watch these seeds planted, but he had observed them from sprout to full growth. A strange longing stirred in his heart that he groped at for understanding. Something was portentous in these stalks, and vines. A connection started to form betwixt his own coming to this farm, and his employer's apparent treatment of him. He most certainly not there to see Adrian's seed planted, and in fact he had sprouted before the old man ever met him, but there he was tending the crop as through he had known it from its first peaking through the soil.
Winter approached, and in stark contrast two young foxes love sprung tall, and proudly into the raging sun that fed it. The harvest was in, but their young relationships budded into full maturity, and Adrian decided that the time had come to finally settle certain debts.
On the fourteenth day of the tenth month (as these southerners reckoned it), Adrian approached his employer who had become his consummate companion and surrogate father figure over the previous months, and bid him sit for a frank discussion. His sixteenth year had come, and as such he had to (by Beduin custom) settle all debts from his previous year before the gods would smile favorably on his aging and acknowledge his manhood. Samuith knew for some time that this conversation would come, but he had no way of expecting how it would turn. The intricacies of Beduin culture were alien, and strange if not fascinating to the old farmer.
"I've worked here by your gracious employ for more than six months by the local calendar" Adrian said in a polite, yet firmly serious tone. "In that time, I have yet to be paid a single copper. I've been living here, and eating your food for free, so I would say that removing what one would pay in a common in for the stay you owe me three gold coins, or their equivalent. I am grateful for all of your kindness, and dread to press the issue, but in the last week I have passed a threshold before the eyes of the gods, and must settle all debts, owed or earned before the turning of the next moon. It may not be understood in your southern farmlands, but it is of grave importance to one of Beduin Born."
Samuith looked over the boy introspectively. He had truly grown a lot in the short time that he was known to the old farmer, and as hoped he had almost seemed to have found some peace in his life here. It didn't seem to his wizened heart that this was the death-knell of his employment, but simply the duty of a man to speak on business with another. The boy's manner really didn't seem like that of a boy any longer.
"You are right, and reasonable my boy" he said stately, and firm, "but as I have been impish in my dealings with you, I once again do not have such a sum that I can simply hand out. I'm afraid that by the moon's calculated turn I'll still not have it. What would we do to rectify? What is the custom of you strange straw-topped northerners?"
Adrian took a deep breath almost in the way one might if he were nervous, but a Beduin is never nervous in any action of righteous intent. He looked up at the old man, and wondered at the subtlety behind his eyes. He was far more discerning and calculated than any simple farmer had any right to be, and Adrian wondered at what his game might entail.
"Then we have a mortally serious problem" he said, in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "I've grown to love you, Samuith of Kormag Born, and I wish no ill between us, but an arrangement must be made." Adrian had counted on this eventuality, and steeled himself for the next move he would make against the old farmer in this strange game of strategy he played. "If you haven't the gold by currency, crop, livestock, or land then some other barter must be met. As you know from your days of spying from afar, Adrian has grown attached to one daughter among your flock: Young Riadne, Daughter of Samuith. I'll take her for your debt. Such an exchange would be quite fortuitous considering the turn of the year that brings us to this converse."
Samuith froze. For the first time since he had met the youth, he had truly confounded the old fox with his actions. There was subtlety and planning in this demand. A move born of months of studying the farmer's ways, and patterns that Samuith did not think capable in the boy. Furthermore, he asserted that he had often known that the father watched his get as she lounged with this youth? The words of the boy some six months earlier echoed in his head: "I always can tell when I'm being watched." For the first time in their dealings, Samuith was unsure of what to do, but he had to take the situation back into his control. This was still his daughter that they spoke of.
"I'm afraid my most dear daughter," he said, "is a touch more numismatic than my debt would cover. So you're a man now, little kit, and you seek a wife? The vixen you ask for is precious beyond pricing, but since it is a father's duty then I'll not sell her for less than twenty. That is a king's wage greater than I owe you, little Beduin."
Adrian chaffed a bit under the derisive wording of his phrase. One should not so disrespectfully term a man of the Beduin. Still, there was something there. The farmer was obviously trying to bate the young man into proving himself still a boy, and Adrian wouldn't let him do that. He gritted his teeth, and considered what he said carefully.
"Yet still" he said loudly, then paused and continued in a calmer tone, "A debt is owed. If you be a man of honor, you'll make it settle by what means are necessary. A man does not suffer a debt to stagnate any more than a man should brook a debt months after its due presses patience. You say your girl, who by acknowledged right is yours, is worth twenty gold? I would say twenty thousands, but regardless of the esteem that we here hold for this daughter, nay woman...nay personification of Holiest Dalma her most serene and beautiful self, made glorious flesh by the meeting of honored Kormags is by no usurer's ciphering worth more and a handful of silver. However, I'll call her too precious a thing to let any debt remain in the passing of her, or vow to toil in service of your farm until this Beduin blood runs so freely from my over-worked paws that my life drains down to feed the sprouting corn and wheat that you so lovingly plant to pay your seventeen remaining gold as her price! Accept your responsibility and settle your debt, or give me this fate so that I might at least die in saccharine observance of that most delicate and exquisite vixen!"
Samuith was once again taken aback. He had never witnessed such passion in the young man, or boy, or warrior. He seemed on the verge of tear, and it struck the old farmer deeper than had he lost his temper with his blade. He took a deep breath, and let it out slow. It was truly time to let this rest, and the settling of his debt was long over due. Adrian of Beduin Born did not deserve to be cheated, and he showed that he had the strength of manhood in him. The boy had also betrayed a devotion to his daughter that comforted the old fox while he simultaneously dreaded to part with his girl.
"Very well" he said, causing Adrian's head to lift with visible surprise, "You have your debt. I'll let my most precious, and beautiful daughter to marry, and you I accept as her groom. You'll take care of her, boy, even better than I did. This is my condition in blessing. Will you do this in my honor, and consider this debt settled?"
A smile threatened to creep across the young fox' face, but he settled it with warrior resolve, and swallowed once very hard.
"A debt gravely paid. I'll more so accept," he said, rising slowly to his feet, "I'll set this, your stamp and seal, and most honored seed made superb fruit by the nurturing of your hand, above all the import of my life. I'll love her better than Dalma, or Sierra, and revere her honor higher than Clovis, or the God of the Sun." He paused for a moment, suddenly realizing what he was saying and stopped to consider what he was feeling. After a moment, he looked back up, and placed his hand on his scabbard, the other resting on his father in law's shoulder.
"You've here given me leave to sheath my sword, Samuith of Kormag Born, and for that I thank you." He smiled broadly at the older man, and squeezed his shoulder a bit. "I feel the favor of my ancestors, and I think I won't have to lay this weapon to flesh any longer."
Samuith smiled broadly, and hugged the boy tightly. Adrian hurried from the room, and paused a moment outside the door. For a brief instant instinct kicked at him, but he was too elated to pay it any mind. It was no matter, he thought, this moment was too fine to worry through. He hurried off to spread the most advantageous news to his beloved.
Gretchen fumed behind the door to a storage closet near to the bedroom. She wasn't pleased with what she had over heard, and it had come to a moment of truth. That Beduin did not deserve her daughter, and he would be the cause of death and misery for her should he get her hand. She couldn't let that happen. The vixen loved her daughter too dearly, and even though her husband loved her as much he lacked the pragmatism, and the wit to see the mistake that he was making. Something had to be done, but it couldn't be done by her hand. She sat by herself for a long time that night while her husband and children looked for her, and finally came to a decision. She had sons, and they were good young men. They would surely help their mother in ridding the house of an unwanted and dangerous pest. No Beduin would take her daughter to ruin while she was alive to do something about it.
The next week of Adrian's life was more joyous than anything he had felt since the Sherftii had come to his village. For the first time since the attack, he slept full nights at a time without waking to nightmares, or spending half of the evening in grim contemplation of his orphaning. Once in that time, he had awakened in screams, soaked in sweat and swinging at phantom attackers, but she was there. Soft, sweet hands encircled him, and her beautiful voice shushed, and sang away the vicious night-terrors that plagued him. She hadn't shown any sign of disdain or pity even when he had broken from his outburst to sob his demons to quietude into the soft fur of his young wives chest. It was only her comfort and unconditional nurturing until he had wept out the last of his energy and passed peacefully into sleep. Nothing would ever hurt him again that wouldn't be fixed in gazing into those beautiful eyes.
Riadne was adjusting fairly quickly if not awkwardly to married life, and likewise found herself elated beyond description at her father's decision to let them wed. It was somewhat unexpected, but she was pleased with the change, and glad that she could be with her beloved at any time without the silly sneaking about. She fell asleep each night in the heady inebriation of loves more corporeal expression entwined in the powerful arms of her lover. It was her stern opinion that nothing could ever harm her in any way so long as those powerful weapons surrounded her, and it made her sleep easy.
The only exception had been when he awoke with a nightmare. She had never seen such a fit of mortification in expression of ones dark dreams, and it elicited the child that remained in her to demand that she flee for her own safety. The woman in her won over, and she stayed to help him. There was no way she could leave her poor love to whatever demon tormented him so, and in spite of the hideous terror that he inspired in his ecstasy held him to her gently chest and soothed his humors to stillness. She lay on her side with his arms around her chest that almost pressed the air from her tender lungs, and her own sweet branches around his head while he wept his self to slumber. She wondered what horror could possibly have left such somnambulistic alarm in him, and decided that he must have been driven from his homeland by the passing of one of the Imp's demons. No mortal thing could hurt someone so deeply. She vowed that she would never allow anything to touch him so heavily again, so log as she lived.
Samuith was pleased to bursting with the union of his daughter and the young warrior. He had seen an even more dramatic shift in the youngsters since their wedding night, and both seemed to be as happy as life can afford one to be. He was sure that the young fox' would be there for each other, and that any folly that may have befallen either one through exuberance or wander-lust would be left aside in favor of taking the others care. Gretchen on the other hand was unconvinced. She became more and more singular in her certainty that Adrian would be the cause of her daughter's ruin, and the fact that they had been joined as man and wife drove her worries through her mind like a wedge of obsession that slowly bordered on madness. Samuith slowly started to notice the darkness of her humors, and tried his best to succor her, but being so distracted with his daughter's happiness he missed the severity of his wife's wicked contemplation.
If Samuith knew what his wife did behind his back, when he could neither see nor hear would have crushed his carbon heart into a fine diamond of despair. She had found among her sons a feeling of disdain concerning their sister's marriage. Several of them were disharmonious with it, but held their peace in honor of their father. Theirs was not a dissent that compared to their mother's, but there were whispers to the negative. Gretchen saw this, and seized the opportunity to rid herself of the meddlesome foreigner and save her daughter her shame.
The old vixen wandered by her sons in private as they discussed the young man, and marked that they were almost to the point where one accepts an unfavorable happening as part of things, and gets over it. She stepped quickly over to her boys, and looked scornfully at them. There were apologies made for their insults, and she quieted them and bid them listen to her. They were confused to learn that she shared their condemnation, but even more so. She scolded them for being so careless for their sisters, and schooled them in how they could make things right. She convinced them carefully that there was nothing but tragedy in store for their dear little sister should the Beduin remain with her, and over an hours discourse instilled in them such bloody-mindedness as to lay her new husband in the ground, and make it look like he was attacked by bandits. Sweet Riadne would be heartbroken, but she would be alive, and time heals all wounds. She left them to discuss this, and though objections were exchanged, the consensus was that they were no bastards, and if they loved their mother, and sister, then this foreigner had to die. He was fond of going into the woods to hunt so that he could retrieve small lizards to skin for leather because he had apparently been a tanner in his home land. Their sister wore several of his crafts that he had made and exchanged to her as love tokens. The next time he ventured into that deep copse where no one of sentient creature would hear him scream he would die, and they would save their family joyously from the treachery of the strange northerner and his warrior ways...