Chapter 2
Magnus decided to meet her at the well that lay in the middle of Coppergate, a social place where the men lounged about in the late afternoons, gossiping and telling tall stories that had no more truth now than theya??d had a hundred years before.
The women drew water and sat near the men, sewing their wool cloth into jerkins and gowns and watching the children.
The children played near them, their laughter heard all the way to Micklegate.
It was a brief time of ease after a hard day, and a time for talk.
Magnus strode into the wide square, eyeing the small groups of men, an unconscious reaction, for in his experience just two men could attack unwary prey and dispatch that prey easily and quickly.
Hea??d waited until he saw Zarabeth, coming now to the well to draw water in her wooden pail.
She was alone; the little girl wasna??t with her.
He walked to her, determination in every step, sparing not a word to any of the others, and said, even as she was lowering her pail into the well, a??My name is Magnus Haraldsson.
I am a farmer merchant and I and my family live near Kaupang in Norway.
I am not a poor man, nor am I cruel or vicious, and I wish to wed with you.a??
Zarabeth dropped the bucket. She stared down in dismay into the darkness of the well, at last hearing the pail thunk into the water. She straightened and turned slowly to the man whoa??d startled her.
She found herself looking at his throat; then she lifted her face until she met his eyes.
That in itself was a surprise, for she was used to staring men straight in the face.
a??I beg your pardon? You what?a?? She shook her head, wanting to laugh at what shea??d thought he had said.
a??Nay, surely I mistook your words. Forgive me, but I thought you said that .
. . But no. What did you say to me, sir? a??
Magnus said again, still patient, for he was enchanted with the laughter and sweetness of her voice, a??I said I want to wed with you. My name is Magnus Haraldsson. Your name is difficult for me, but I will say it now and come to say it with ease soon enougha??Zarabeth.a??
He accented it charmingly, at least to her ear, and she smiled, despite his outlandish words and his beyond-foolish proposal, if he indeed were serious, which she strongly doubted.
He didna??t look like a man whoa??d drunk too much mead or ale.
It had been a long, tiring day, and his words cheered her, serious or no.
He was a handsome man, rugged and hewn from strong stock, young and tall and well-made, as blond as most other of his countrymen, his hair a thick deep blond, and his eyes were as blue as a summer sky over York, clear and unleached by shades of gray.
She tilted her head to the side, still smiling. He was brazen, this Viking. She peered down the well. a??My bucket is lost. What am I to do?a??
Magnus looked down at her, fascinated by how that smile of hers lit and warmed her green eyes. a??Ia??ll get your bucket for you. My name is Magnusa??a??
a??I know,a?? Zarabeth said. a??Magnus Haraldsson, and you are a farmer and a trader and you are not cruel or vicious and you want to wed with me.a??
He frowned. She was forward, this woman with her foreign name and her laughing smile. She was mocking him, pretending to seriousness, and he didna??t like it. a??Aye,a?? he said, his voice cool now. a??I want to wed with you. Now Ia??ll retrieve your pail for you.a??
She stepped back and watched whilst he strode like a conqueror to the smithiesa?? forge just to the other side of the square.
He returned almost immediately with a long wooden pole, hooked on one end.
He leaned over the well, and she heard the water swishing about below.
She heard him speak, but it wasna??t loud enough for her to make out the words.
She imagined that he was cursing. He tried, she gave him that, really tried to retrieve her wooden pail, but it had sunk deeper than the pole would reach.
Finally he gave it up and straightened, turning to face her.
a??I could not reach it. I will replace your pail since my words made you drop it.a??
Zarabeth was charmed. a??There is no need for you to do that.
My own clumsiness caused its loss. You just startled me, a??twas your only fault.a?? She paused a moment, smiling up at him.
a??You know my name, but you havena??t really met me.
I am Zarabeth, stepdaughter of Olav the fur merchant, anda??a??
a??And you would like to wed with me now that youa??ve met me,a?? he finished for her, his voice utterly matter-of-fact. a??You are decisive. That is good in a woman.a??
a??I beg your pardon?a??
a??It is good that you are a woman with a quick mind and decisive wits. I will speak to Olav the Vain and we will settle on a brideprice and thena??a??
a??I wona??t wed with you!a??
He frowned down at her. a??Why not? You just said that you would.a??
a??I said nothing of the sort. I dona??t know you. I have never seen you before in my life until but minutes ago. You made me lose my pail. Now, what is this all about?a??
a??I am a farmer merchant. I have come to York to trade, as I do several times a year.
I saw you two days ago and Ia??ve been watching you.
I have decided you will do nicely as my wife.
You will suit me. You will bring me pleasure and bear my children and you will warm my hearth and prepare my meals and sew my tunics.a??
Zarabeth, once charmed by his brazenness, was off-put by his arrogance, a commodity of which he had aplenty.
She was no longer amused by him, for she realized at last that he was utterly serious.
And a serious Northman, shea??d heard all her life, wasna??t to be trifled with.
But it made no sense. It sounded as if he needed a slave, after the list hea??d made of his expectations of her.
She felt a tingling of alarm, for his eyes had narrowed and he no longer had the look of a man of easy nature and ready laugh.
Still, she wouldna??t back down, she wouldna??t show her ill-ease with him.
a??And thata??s all you have to say, Magnus Haraldsson?
You believe I would suit you? You make it sound like I would be your drudge.
No, no, let me finish. Too, I might be an awful creature for all you know of me, a shrew of loud and vicious tongue perhaps.
As for you, perhaps you beat women? Perhaps you dona??t bathe and smell sour as the rotted innards of a weasel? Perhapsa??a??
a??That is quite enough, Zarabeth.a?? He paused a moment, as if the sound of her name surprised him.
Then he grasped her upper arms in his large hands.
She froze, then forced herself to relax.
They were standing in the middle of the Coppergate square and there were dozens of people she knew around them, some of them even now staring toward her at this moment.
She needna??t worry. She smiled at him again, but it was a nervous, uncertain smile, and he recognized it.
a??I dona??t mean to frighten you, but when I make up my mind it is done.
I bathe often, as is the custom in my country, and I dona??t smell sour.
Sniff me now if you will. I have all my teeth and I dona??t carry fat on my belly.
Men cannot fight to their best ability if they carry fat on their bodies.
I never will. I dona??t beat women.a?? He paused, frowning, then shrugged.
a??I do have a slave, Cyra, who much enjoys a belt on her thighs and buttocks, but I give it to her sparingly, for I do not wish to spoil her.a??
Zarabeth could but stare at him, all else forgotten. a??You have a slave who likes you to beat her? In those . . . places? That is absurd! I do not believe you. Why?a??
Magnus shrugged again. a??It is as I said.
She is a woman of strong and ardent passions, and the pain on her buttocks adds to her pleasure when I finally take her.a?? His eyes narrowed on her stunned face.
a??Why would you disbelieve me? I speak the truth, Zarabeth.
You will soon learn that I dona??t lie.a??
a??I dona??t disbelieve you, but perhaps you should temper this extreme truth of yours with judicious omission. The thought of anyone striking me in those places . . . well, it isna??t at all to my liking.a??
a??Then I wona??t. If you dona??t wish it, I shana??t ever strike you, even if you eventually say you want it.a??
a??I dona??t desire it,a?? she said, fascinated anew by him despite herself.
a??I wona??t ever want that.a?? He was looking down at her, and the look in those blue eyes of his had changed, shifting subtly, and she knew with a knowledge she hadna??t realized was already within her that he was thinking of her without her clothing on.
a??Would you please release me now, Magnus? a??
a??No. I like the feel of your flesh beneath my fingers. You are warm and soft and I can smell your womana??s scent.a??
a??Then will you at least ease your hold? I am easily bruised.a??
He frowned at that and his fingers quickly became gentle as sunlight on her upper arms and as warm as the middle-summer sun, though it was still early spring.
He continued to stare down at her, his look thoughtful and intent.
a??You will tell me what it is that gives you enjoyment.
Ia??m accounted a man who does well with a woman.
I am not selfish in the giving of pleasure.
And you would be my wife. I should like to please you, to give you the delight of my body and yours.
It would be your right to be pleased by me, your husband.a??
His words were quiet and deep and confident. She continued looking up at him, so absorbed by him that she didna??t consider turning away. She said in a small, soft voice, without hesitation, a??I dona??t know what pleases me.a??