Landwulf grinned. “There is never a boring moment,” he said. “How about we explore the metalworkers’ section?”
Kaarina gaped in astonishment at the sheer size of the metal market. She’d never seen so many people or goods in one place. Landwulf laughed and tucked her hand under his arm. She felt like a princess with her prince as they wandered along the rows of metal goods. Her heart swelled with an unfamiliar feeling as people turned to look at them together. It felt good to be with Landwulf.
Next door to Emiline, Minna was counting the coins they’d made from selling their goods. She handed Eira the money pouch with her earnings in it. Eira looked inside and gasped.
“Minna! I’ve never seen so much money,” she exclaimed.
“Well, dear, you worked hard for it and it’s yours,” she said.
Eira hugged her. “Thank you, Minna. You are so kind to me,” she said. “I have never had my own money before.”
“Spend it wisely,” Minna advised. “Keep some for the future. You know not when you might need it.”
“I will,” Eira promised.
“Go, enjoy the markets,” Minna said. “You have worked hard today. Have some fun.”
Eira didn’t need to be told twice. She wondered briefly where Kaarina was but she was determined not to waste this opportunity to see new things. She darted down the makeshift street before someone could stop her.
She wandered through the metal markets, astounded by the beauty of many of the goods for sale. She’d never seen anything like it and her eyes feasted on each new treasure that she spied. Before she knew it, she’d wandered past the end of the metal market and into the farmers’ market. Chickens squawked, pigs squealed and children ran around as their mothers shrieked at them. Eira smiled; the farmers’ market wasn’t unlike her home village.
“Eira!” said a familiar voice.
Eira blinked and looked up. Who would be calling for her here? She knew no one.
“Eira!” The call was more urgent this time.
She looked around, then broke into a run.
“Father!” she cried, throwing herself into Bjarni’s arms as tears cascaded down her cheeks.
He caught her and held her tightly against him.
“Eira,” he said again. “My little girl! I never expected to find you here!”
“I did not expect to find you either, Father,” she sobbed. “I thought I would never see you again!”
Bjarni brushed a tear from his cheek. “I thought you were safe with Taft, living in his village. What are you doing here?”
“It is a long story, Father.”
“Well, we had better sit to hear it,” he answered, leading her to his market stall.
Two stools sat behind his crates of chickens and bags of grain. Eira was grateful to sit down; her legs felt wobbly.
“Tell me of Mother,” she said eagerly. “Oh, I have missed home so much!” Fresh tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered the carefree days she’d spent roaming the forest and the village.
“Your mother never changes,” Bjarni said drily. “Like a leaky roof when it drips in the night.”
Eira giggled through her tears. “But you love her anyway,” she said. “Is she well?”
“She is. We are getting older now and your brothers have many children between them. It is the time of life for us to slow down.”
Eira couldn’t imagine her mother getting old and slowing down but as she looked at Bjarni, she could see that what he was saying was true; grey peppered his shining blonde hair and deep lines creased the corners of his eyes.
“Tell me, how did you come to be here?” asked Bjarni. “I never wanted to banish you. I was forced into it.”
“I know, Father. I do not blame you.”
“And your gift? Has it led to problems in your new life?”
“Not directly. I have learned how to keep it to myself.”
“But?”
“When I arrived at Taft’s village, word got out that I’d been accused of witchcraft. I was almost killed before I even found Taft.”
Bjarni gasped. “I would never have consented to you being sent there if I had known. I believed you would be safe there.”
“Taft is a cruel and angry man, Father. He deeply resented my presence in his house. Eventually, there was a fight because of me and I left the village and lived in the woods. But Halvar found me.”
“Who is Halvar?”
“He is the village chief.”
“And he is special to you, yes?” Bjarni asked with a sly grin.
“He is,” Eira said, her eyes shining. “We are hoping to wed soon. But neither of us has parents to arrange it for us.”
“That still does not tell me how you came to be here.”
“After the fight, I realized that I would never be safe living in the village. I could not live all year in the forest, either, so Halvar brought me over the mountains to the coast. We live in the coastal village of Merilant.”
“Merilant? That doesn’t sound like a word in our tongue.”
“It is the language of the Alemanni people.”
“You live among foreigners?”
“They are sabbatati Christians and I serve with one family as domestic help. They welcome anyone who needs a home for they have also been homeless in their past. Remember that, Father. If you ever need to flee from the village, you are welcome in Merilant.”
“It is a terrible tale that you tell, Daughter. But I am glad that you are happy and safe now. Where is this young man you are fond of?”
A shadow fell across Eira’s face. “He is back at his home village,” she admitted. “Some of the young men came from there and begged for his help. They said Taft planned to attack the village after the snow melted. I can only
