by Helen Gosney
All the same, and in spite of miserable old bugger, Rowan thought the night truly was getting better and better. He’d nearly put himself on sentry duty again, to spend the night tramping around the cold draughty battlements, would have if Fess hadn’t been such a pest. And yet here he was, finally free of the dowagers, hags and crones, and dancing with the most beautiful girl in the room. She was not only lovely, with her huge dark eyes and her barely tamed black curls and cheeky red ribbon, but outspoken and with a sense of humour too.
Miss Caroline, bless her, had laughingly asked why the troopers were dancing with all the pretty girls and their Captain was missing out.
“Not for much longer, my lady,” he’d said as he helped the sprightly old lady back to her seat.
“Good lad,” she’d smiled at him, “You know I love to dance with you, but it’s not right for you to be stuck with us old ducks all night. You’ve done your bit, now go and have some fun!”
“By your command, my lady,” he’d said as he’d bowed and kissed her hand.
“You cheeky bugger.” She looked up into his bright, beautiful eyes. Why weren’t you here forty years ago, she wondered. I’d have given you a run for your money, gorgeous man. “Off you go, laddie.”
She smiled as he melted into the crowd, to reappear in front of the mayor and his entourage. She made a small wager with herself as to which lovely girl he’d choose and was a bit surprised to see pretty little Bella take his arm. By the odd expression that flitted across Rowan’s face and was gone before it could register, so was he. Surely a little setback like that wouldn’t worry him though, and it was certainly no hardship for him to finally have such a pretty young lass to dance with. No, he was smiling and chatting with Bella as they glided past, giving her all of his attention, and he seemed perfectly content. The man was a master at keeping his feelings to himself, and at keeping that beautiful, expressive face calm and composed too. Of course he had to be with the damned Commandant. She didn’t like the way the old bugger treated his new young Captain at all. She glanced across and saw the striking brunette watching her friend dancing with Captain Rowan, wondered why she suddenly looked so stunned and then smiled to herself. At last, this bloody Ball might be getting interesting, Caroline thought happily.
Rowan looked down at the braiding of Zara’s magnificent hair and smiled to himself. I could help you with that, he thought, surprising himself greatly. He decided he should certainly dance with this lass a great deal more that night.
Bella looked at the beautiful, black-clad couple laughing and chatting together like old friends near the centre of the dance floor and sighed. That bird has flown, Bella, she thought sadly. She looked around as another tall, broad-shouldered Guardsman came across and bowed before her father. This one had short blonde curls and a neat curly beard and spoke with the familiar accents of Wirran. He was almost as good-looking as his Captain.
“Sir, my name is Fess Aaronson, Lieutenant of this garrison. I wonder if I might have your permission to dance with your lovely daughter?”
At her father’s nod, she stood and took his arm. She looked up into his soft brown eyes as they danced away and sighed again, more happily this time.
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18. “…wed beneath a soaring Forest Giant …”
A scandalously short three months later, Rowan and Zara were wed beneath a soaring Forest Giant. It was an idyllic autumn day, with the sun gleaming through the canopy of the great trees. The air was filled with the tinkling of tiny bellbirds and the carolling of magpies and butcherbirds and the warblings of flute thrushes, and occasionally a raucous flock of parrots or lorikeets would fly screeching overhead.
The couple couldn’t be together in the garrison, in the Captain’s Cottage, unless they were wed; so wed they were. Well, almost, Fess thought with a smile. When Zara finishes weaving the marriage bead into Rowan’s braid.
Rowan had walked to the towering tree flanked by Fess in his Guard Lieutenant’s dress uniform and Griff in his embroidered finery. Rowan himself wore his best trousers, which happened to be the well-tailored bottom half of his dress uniform, and a beautiful creamy silk shirt that Zara had made for him, embroidered at the circular yoke and on its cuffs with flowers and leaves in soft autumn colours. It suited him very well as did his short neat beard with its two narrow braids that ran down each side of his jaw, close to the skin, to unite and run vertically down his chin as one. His feet were bare as Fess and Griff’s were also and his long hair was braided differently, with the last twelve inches or so of it loose. There’d been a few gasps of shock from some of the older foresters as he strode past them, his back straight and his head up.
“What’s wrong with them, Rowan?” Fess muttered. He couldn’t see anything amiss with his friend’s appearance at all. The bare feet had been a surprise, but it was forester custom, so bare feet it was.
Rowan smiled happily at him. Nothing was going to ruin this day for Zara, or him for that matter, so he’d simply taken matters into his own hands.
“I’ve just… um… tinkered with tradition a bit, that’s all,” he said, “My hair should be free so that Zara can braid the marriage bead into it, but… can you imagine how long that’d take her, my poor love? Even a forester lass finds it bad enough, usually.”
Fess looked at Rowan’s thick auburn braid that swung to his waist and nodded. Rowan could braid his own hair surprisingly quickly, but he’d had a lot of practice at it.
“It’d take Zara forever,” he said softly.
“Not now it won’t,” Rowan laughed, “She only needs to do a little bit, and she’s been practicing.”
“Rowan…?” Fess whispered, his voice a mix of fascination and horror. What’s that… what’s that, er, thing on your foot?”
“It feels like something very leggity. Probably a caterpillar,” Rowan said without looking down, “Why, what does it look like?”
Fess ignored Griff’s smothered laughter and had another look at Rowan’s left foot, and the very large bristly blue-green creature that was crawling serenely across it.
“It looks, er, it looks like a… um… caterpillar too, Rowan. A very, er, big caterpillar.”
“Put the poor man out of his misery, Rowan! For the Gods’ sakes.” Griff hissed.
“Aye, all right, if I must. But ‘tis so much fun, Griff,” Rowan looked down at his bare instep and smiled, “Aye, ‘tis a caterpillar, Fess.”
Griff elbowed him in the ribs.
“Gods! You don’t have to bloody bruise me! What will Zara think, you great lump! I’m sorry, Fess. ‘Tis a Spirit Moth caterpillar, but it shouldn’t be down there. Anyone could squash the poor creature with their damned big feet,” Rowan said as he carefully picked it up and watched it crawl over his palm. It was almost as big as his middle finger. “They turn into huge black and silver moths. ‘Tis said they’re Forest Spirits, and they’re supposed to be lucky too.” He gently put it into the centre of a lush bush, safe from big feet and hungry birds. Mind you, they’d have to be very famished birds indeed to try and eat this unappetising, spiky and surprisingly feisty little creature.
It’s damned lucky I haven’t got my boots on, Fess thought, looking about him worriedly.
“Don’t fret, Fess,” Griff said kindly, “’Tis unlikely to be another one about.”
“Why not?” Fess wanted to know, “Don’t they have a million brothers and sisters like every other caterpillar in the world?”
“No… It takes five years from egg to moth, and the adults only live for… maybe a few weeks. They only lay a couple of dozen eggs and then they die,” Rowan said quietly.
He turned his head suddenly at something only he and the dwarfs in the crowd heard, and his face was joyful.
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Zara came along the flower-strewn path towards him, hand in hand with Bella and Rose. They were all barefoot as the men were, and Bella was perhaps struggling a little with it, but Zara and Rose walked like queens. Bella wore her plainest blue si
lk gown, which was still not exactly plain, and Rose wore a long silk dress, beautifully embroidered in the colours of the forest. Zara walked between them, her lovely full-length creamy silk dress embroidered in the same way as Rowan’s silken shirt, and she wore a circlet of cream and apricot coloured roses in her mass of curly black hair.
For a moment, she’d looked nervous as she saw all the people watching her: her kin, Rowan’s kin; foresters, Wirrans, Thallassians, dwarfs, Guardsmen in their dress uniforms, the Commandant’s wife who’d ignored her husband’s orders and travelled to Sian with Miss Caroline from Den Siddon and her, Zara’s, parents, folk from the town, quite a few shy forest trolls… but then Zara had seen Rowan standing tall and calm watching her, waiting for her. He’d winked cheekily at her and she’d smiled and gone to him, her nervousness forgotten.
Bella and Rose put Zara’s hands in his and kissed him before going to stand with Fess and Griff.
Rowan kissed Zara’s hands gently.
“You look wonderful, Zarinya,” he said softly as he raised his head again.
She looked up at his handsome face, radiant with happiness and love for her, and smiled at his use of the Siannen name that meant something like ‘beloved of my heart’.
“So do you…” she whispered as she tucked a tiny rosebud into his braid for luck.
“There’s not much bloody hope for me if I can’t scrub up all right on my wedding day, love,” he said softly.
The priest heard him and tried not to laugh. Then he’d done his bit, much simpler than the Wirran or Thallassian equivalent and Rowan and Zara placed the lovely rings that were the g’Hakkens’ wedding gift to them on each other’s hand. Exquisitely beautiful, the rings were a fragile-seeming design of entwined twigs and leaves, made of silver and gold. Of course they were no more fragile than any other lovely thing the g’Hakken made. And now all that remained was the weaving of the marriage beads into each other’s hair.
Well-used to plaiting and braiding, Rowan’s strong fingers made short work of weaving Zara’s hair into the clan braid proper for a bride, slipping the gold and silver g’Hakken crafted marriage bead onto a long lock as he wove it neatly to the side of her head. He left the back of her hair flowing free in the glorious untamed curls that he loved and she hated.
“Your turn, my heart,” he said softly as he closed her fingers over the marriage bead, “You only need to do a couple of inches, and just speak up if you get lost in the weave.”
She knew this was a dreadful heresy to some of the more traditional foresters and she laughed happily.
“You silly bugger, Rowan. Some of your kin would disown us both, if they haven’t already. Anyway, we’ve practiced this enough that I could do it in my sleep,” she whispered as she started work on his glossy auburn hair. She quickly found it wasn’t quite as easy as he always made it look, especially with his kin watching her so intently. She looked up at Rose for a moment, panic stricken as a sleek lock of hair slipped from her fingers.
Rowan’s twin sister smiled at her. It had surprised Zara how very alike the two were, their faces masculine and feminine versions of the same beautiful face. Their mother’s face, Rhys said, and certainly they didn’t look much like any of their father’s kin apart from their remarkable hazel eyes. The family had welcomed her warmly and Zara and Rose both felt instantly at ease with each other. They’d spent the last few days with Bella, all talking and laughing together as they went over the details of the ceremony and practiced the all-important braiding of the marriage bead into Rowan’s hair. He’d taken the hairpulling with good grace; pleased to see the two he loved most in the world so happy in each other’s company.
“It’s all right, Zara love, ‘tisn’t the end of the world,” Rose said very quietly as she discreetly elbowed Rowan in the ribs, “Right over left three times,” she added obscurely.
Rowan leaned back slightly against Zara and said very, very quietly, “I love you, Zarinya. Now, my heart, from the right side, it’s right over left, right over left, right over left.”
Zara stared at him and the intricate braid. Yes. Right over left, right over left and then… um… right over left again …
“From the left, leave a strand, left over right, left over right, leave a strand,” Rowan whispered.
She carefully braided a bit more as she followed his instructions.
“How far are you from the end, Zara love?” he asked, so softly that Fess, standing close by, couldn’t really hear him properly. None of his intent kin would be able to hear a thing; even the sharp-eared dwarfs would be struggling to hear him.
“About, um… three inches. But it’s not as even as your bit.”
“Doesn’t matter, love. Now, you need to slip the bead on the middle strands where they cross. You leave two strands, right over left with the bead, leave the last two. Then just go an inch or so more like before, pull it a bit tighter so it won’t slip, tie the end very bloody tightly and that’ll do. I love you,” he said again, leaning against her a little more for a moment.
“I love you too,” she said happily. Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, “But why doesn’t your wretched clan have a simple braid?”
“It does, my sweet,” he said, trying hard not to laugh for the sheer joy of her.
The priest carefully placed Zara’s hand in Rowan’s.
“You are man and wife together. May your years be long and joyful, and may your union be blessed,” he intoned, trying very hard not to smile too widely and spoil his very useful reputation of being a bit of a miserable old bugger. The sheer happiness of this beautiful young couple was infectious.
“Thank you, Sir,” Rowan said as he squeezed Zara’s hand gently. He was delighted to feel her hand suddenly grip his with all of her strength.
He turned to her with a beautiful, beaming smile and kissed her thoroughly. His friends and kin whistled and cheered as he surfaced for air and then kissed her again.
“Gods, Bella, I wish we could be wed like this,” Fess whispered to Bella.
She smiled up at him. They’d be wed in a couple of months’ time, but not like this. When Zara had told her she and Rowan were to wed under the Forest Giants, Bella had been happy for her friend, but privately she’d been sceptical of the Siannen custom. Having witnessed it though, she realised how perfectly the simple ceremony suited Zara and Rowan.
“Can you imagine my parents letting us get away with something as… as simple and… lovely as this, Fess? No, no, my lad. ’Tis the Temple in Den Siddon for us, with all the choirs and bells and bobbing up and down and the Gods only know what else,” she said a little wistfully. She looked at the glowingly happy couple beneath the great Forest Giant and sighed. “They look so beautiful and so joyful though, Fess. I wish we could too.” She smiled up at him again. “But I’d have to wear shoes…”
“Rowan, love,” Zara said when they finally managed to find themselves a few private minutes a little later.
“Aye, my heart?”
She suddenly looked very determined.
“Our children should be born here, in the forest…”
He stared at her in amazement and shock.
“Are you trying to tell me something, love?” he managed.
She laughed at him.
“No, you ratbag. Not yet, but still… they should be born here in the forest as you were.”
He took her hands in both of his and kissed them gently.
“Thank you, Zarinya, my heart. That is the second best thing to happen to me so far today. Thank you. Are you bored yet with my telling you I love you?”
“Never, my love. I’ll never be bored with hearing that.”
“Good, because I want to keep saying it to you, but I wouldn’t like you to be bored.” He became more serious suddenly.
Zara, love,” he said cautiously, not wanting to upset her, “What would happen if I… it breaks my heart to even think it now, but if I couldn’t go with you to, to have our baby when the time comes? You know I’m
worried about that bastard Rollo of Plait… it disgusts me to even think of him today, of all days, but he could decide to make his move just about the time you might be pregnant… Pa and Rose could come to Den Siddon and bring you here, I suppose, if you’re truly set on the idea.”
“I am set on the idea, Rowan love, because I know it’s what you’d like to happen. If you were busy with Rollo at the time, my parents would bring me here, I’m sure. And they could easily stay here too.”
“Thank you, my heart, but we can discuss it all later, I think. I’ve got a better plan in mind just now, before all of your kin and mine work out that they’ve not seen us for a few minutes.”
He kissed her again, more comprehensively this time.
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Thank you for reading this book and I hope you’ve enjoyed it.
Rowan’s story continues in Red Rowan Book 2: “All gone, the Gods” and Red Rowan Book 3: tentatively titled “Hero’s return”. Both should be published later this year.
Helen Gosney August 2014
Contact me at [email protected]
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