Walpurgis Night by Katherine Kingston

she wondered if he’d answer or if he’d fallen asleep. His breath had not the regular rhythm of sleep, however, and after a while he said, “I would remain here. My father is not well. Age and exhaustion are on him. He needs someone vigorous and strong to maintain his order.”
    Fianna sighed. “I’ll do all in my power to save Ranulf . More than that I cannot promise you.”
    “Nor do I ask it, despite my rash words earlier. I spoke out of my fear and frustration.”
    “I understand. It is done.”
    They were both quiet for some time. She thought he’d fallen asleep until he asked, “What was happening at your home this afternoon? Why did all those people come to you? Were they concerned that you were being taken against your will by us? Or did they seek your testimony against those young men who would have forced you?”
    “None of those,” she said. “They came to tell me I was disrupting the peace of the town by inciting lust in the young men. It was decreed I must choose one to marry.”
    “’ Tis not your fault. True men need not force a woman to their will.”
    “Aye. But whether I am at fault or no bears little on the case. In the interests of peace, I must be wed. So I must choose one by the night of your Walpurgis feast.”
    “And if you do not?”
    “Then I must leave the town, on pain of death.”
    He moved against her, apparently distressed by her answer. “That is harsh of them. Do they value you so little?”
    “Not so high as their peace, it appears.”
    “You could leave and find others who value your services more.”
    “Aye. But I’ve been happy there, and they have need of me. I have no wish to leave.”
    “You have no longing to see more of this world? ’ Tis a very large place, and I understand there are wonders to be found. I am eager to be off and begin discovering them myself.”
    “Nay. I want the comfort of a room of my own, my bed, my garden and my work.”
    He touched her, ran a gentle hand through her hair. She got the feeling he wanted to offer comfort but knew not how. Finally he said, “I hope you can find your way to a solution that brings you peace.”
    That was the last she remembered of that night.
    * * * * *
    Fianna roused when the first light of dawn seeped through cracks around windows and doorways. She shifted and was momentarily surprised to feel another body moving against her back. When she rolled over, Henrik was awake and watching her.
    She smiled and reached out to touch him. She ran her fingers through the tangled disarray of his blond hair, watching the lazy grin play across his face. That smile, worn for her, touched a place deep in her breast with a heat of longing and desire. But within moments his face darkened, and he looked toward the curtained-off partition.
    Reminded of her purpose for being there, Fianna quickly scrambled up off the mat and went to the other room. Henrik was right behind her.
    The woman, Riga, was wiping the cloth across Ranulf’s forehead. She spoke to Henrik in Norse for several moments, and he commented or questioned in the same tongue. Fianna was reassured when Henrik didn’t seem too upset or unhappy in response. Several times, though, as he looked toward his brother, worry shadowed his expression. Once he even closed his eyes briefly and expelled his breath on a long sigh. She found herself wishing she could pronounce some magic words to wipe that concern from his face and restore the smile from earlier.
    Fianna touched Ranulf’s forehead and throat. He felt warmer than he had the previous night and was still muttering, though she couldn’t decipher the words. The pulse in his throat beat hard and fast.
    “He stayed the same for most of the night,” Henrik reported to her after he’d sent the other woman off to bed. “About an hour ago, he began to get worse. He started talking, but making no sense with it, and Riga thinks he has been getting warmer.” His breath caught in his throat. “This is not good, is