Chapter 1 #2
The following morning, her cousin spotted her drawing water at the well and walked over to her. There was no way to avoid her, and just as Aife had feared, the conversation soon turned to Wulfric and what he thought of his future bride’s beauty.
“He says I don’t look like a woman entering my fourth decade. According to him, I have the complexion of a maid and the figure of a woman half my age.”
Mm. This Wulfric definitely sounded like a flatterer.
Not that Edita was ugly or deformed by any means but this was the tenth outrageous compliment Aife had heard that morning.
More suspicious than ever, she couldn’t help but ask what he looked like.
All she knew for certain was that he had to be at least a decade older than his bride-to-be.
“Oh, you know, he has brown hair and eyes. He’s taller than me.”
No doubt this uninspiring description could apply to all the men in the Saxon village, so Aife was none the wiser.
Of course she didn’t really care, she had just wanted to stop Edita from boasting about her own looks.
Just as she was wondering how to change the subject altogether, their cousin Bee’s friend, Sigrid, walked over to them, her young son perched on her hip.
Seizing the opportunity, Aife introduced the two women to one another. Perhaps having a third person present would render this conversation more bearable. It could not make things worse anyway.
“Sigrid, this is Edita, my and Bee’s cousin. She is visiting us from Mercia for the first time.”
“Yes, and I can already predict that it won’t be the last,” Edita simpered, throwing a coy glance over to the forge, where the blacksmith’s son, Knut, was sharpening a sword while talking to his friend Arne.
The men’s hair was wet and their chests were bare, indicating that they had just come back from a dip in the river.
“The men here are simply too incredible to be believed. Perhaps I should have come here before I found my second husband. I’m a widow you see,” she specified for Sigrid’s benefit.
“And after Eowald, who was darker than most, a Norseman would have been a pleasant change. A very, very pleasant change.”
Well. What would Wulfric make of this, Aife wondered? Would he praise his future wife for her candidness in front of strangers? Would he commend her on her impeccable tastes when it came to judging male beauty? Somehow she doubted it.
“Yes, the men here are rather impressive, but do not be fooled by their appearance,” Sigrid surprised her by saying. “My husband, for all his brawn, is so lazy that, more often than not, I have to use the axe myself if I want to keep the fire going. In the bedroom, it’s not always better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The gleam in Edita’s eyes indicated that she was anything but sorry. Aife was getting more and more ill at ease. Really, what had possessed Sigrid to make such a personal remark to a stranger?
“Oh I don’t mean for me. No, believe me, in bed at least, Bo is more than vigorous.
But I was told only yesterday by a friend who lives in another village that she tried to bed one of the men from here a few years ago and he could not even…
rise to the occasion, shall we say. Such a disappointment, as you can imagine. ”
Edita giggled, delighting in the juicy piece of information.
“Indeed. But this is something that could never happen to me, I don’t think.
I cannot imagine any man, Norse or Saxon, would find it hard to rise to the occasion in my bed.
Not that I’m suggesting your friend is not attractive enough to rouse a man’s desire, of course,” she added with a swift glance in Aife’s direction.
The meaning of that involuntary glance was clear.
She didn’t think her attractive enough to rouse a man’s desire.
Aife’s stomach roiled. It seemed she had been wrong to hope the discussion would take a turn for the better if someone else joined them.
Edita had told her many times she thought her too small and slender to please a man, and it seemed her opinion hadn’t changed.
“Men like to have something to hold on to while they take their pleasure,” she’d added with a competent air, looking at her own ample bosom.
“Could you share with us the name of the disappointing lover?” Edita leaned conspiratorially toward Sigrid, who giggled.
“Why would you want to know that?” Aife could not help but ask, her irritation barely concealed.
Surely her cousin didn’t have any intention of seducing anyone with her next wedding already planned, did she?
But perhaps she did, and that was precisely why she had come here, far away from her village.
“You don’t know anyone here, so the name will mean nothing to you. ”
“I might not know anyone but you do. It wouldn’t do for you to try your luck with him, would it? Imagine that. You finally get a man into your bed, only to find out he cannot perform. It would be a pity, don’t you think?”
Sigrid hid her smile in her son’s hair. Clearly it amused her to imagine the scene. Could this get more humiliating?
“Well, I don’t need to know, thank you.”
The only man she was interested in was Sven, and she doubted that this was whom Sigrid was talking about. His ability to perform was all too well attested—she had heard about it from at least half a dozen women. They could not all be lying.
“Tell me it’s not that one at least,” Edita whispered nodding at Knut, who had started swinging the sword this way and that to test the blade’s balance. Aife had to admit he cut an impressive figure, even if, in her opinion, he wasn’t as attractive as Sven.
“No. It’s not him,” Sigrid whispered back, clearly admiring the way the man’s muscles flexed and twisted with each movement. “It’s Torsten, Wolf’s son. I might as well tell you, since you’re bound to hear it sooner or later. I already told Gudrun and we all know she cannot keep a secret.”
“Why on earth would you do something like that?” Aife erupted, goaded beyond endurance.
She had never liked the woman, but this seemed particularly petty, even for her.
Because she was right. Before the summer was over, the baker’s wife would have made sure the whole village knew about Torsten’s failing.
Why would anyone want to expose him to ridicule thus?
Aife liked Torsten, the quietest of Wolf’s three sons.
He was one of her best friends, and she hated him being the object of such discussions.
Either he really was impotent, and it was certainly no cause for mockery, or he was not, and this rumor could only hurt his feelings.
In any case, he didn’t deserve having his personal life exposed by people who had no idea what they were talking about.
Neither woman answered, as at that precise moment, Knut threw the sword in the air and caught the blade between his two palms. Edita and Sigrid cheered and started clapping. He gave an extravagant bow in their direction, Arne soon imitating him.
“Well, seeing as you don’t need me, I’ll go draw more water,” Aife mumbled, already making her way to the well.
Let the two women gossip and gawp at half-naked men all they wanted, she would have no part in it.
As she walked away, bucket in hand, doubts started to assault her.
Was she jealous of her cousin’s generous physique?
Was she so annoyed because deep down she knew she could not rouse a man’s desire?
Her lack of womanly attributes might be the real reason she could not attract a man’s attention.
For years she had wondered what it was about her that made men see her only as a friend.
Perhaps she now had her answer. Edita had been cruel, but perhaps she had finally allowed her to understand where the problem lay.
But her figure would not change now. It was too late, she was a grown woman. So, was she destined to live in the village where she’d been born without ever being seen as the woman she had become? As a lover, and then a wife?
Aife had the honesty to acknowledge that she was not the most stunning of women. In her mind, she had always compared unfavorably to her younger sister, Hedda, who’d always been more feminine.
It was not just her lack of curves that made her blend into the background, though.
Her blonde hair and blue eyes were attractive enough, she supposed.
But she did not have any special talent or trait of personality that stood out and made her unique in any way.
She was sensible, rather than imaginative and wild like her friend, Eyja.
Unlike Bee, who never lost patience with anyone, Aife quickly got frustrated when people did things she didn’t approve of or understand.
She was not shy but neither did she find it easy to talk to strangers and make them feel welcome like Rowena did.
She liked to help but, unlike Cwenthryth, who had become the village midwife, she had not yet found the best way to do it.
So what was she to do?
How would she ever manage to catch the man of her dreams? There had to be a way of getting Sven’s attention and make him see she could be much more than a friend.
But what?