Claiming Their Village Bride

by Abby Aaron

  “She’s been following along after me ever since,” Jael announced. “I swear, she might have tried to go off and join my triad when we left to protect the city walls if Alistrair wouldn’t have found the strength to deny her plea.”

  “A woman at the wall?” Hendrix sounded appalled. “Even cast-offs are considered too valuable to be allowed to be stationed there.”

  “Having a few cast-offs available might have helped pass the time as we patrolled those boring bits of land between the walls,” Johan said aloud, earning himself a disapproving glare from Ellena and a swift kick under the table from Hendrix. “Only as a means to better prepare ourselves in the ways of pleasing a new bride, of course. Cast-offs serve a useful purpose, though I am sure coupling with a wife would be just as enjoyable.” His attempt at saving face fell flat.

  Leodon pushed back his chair and started to gain his feet, when Ellias opted to change the direction the discussion was heading. “I believe the most important thing any triad winning our daughter’s hand in marriage needs to know is that our Jemina is an accomplished warrior in her own right. Tis the truth, her command of the sword is equal to, if not superior to many of the fledglings she and her brother trained alongside.”

  Tyler, the leader from the Konrad triad, let out a loud peel of laughter, assuming the older man was jesting. As soon as he realized it was not a joke, the embarrassed warrior made a production of reaching for his glass and swallowing a large portion of wine. His pink face gave his mortification away.

  Unfortunately for Aras, Tyler was seated just to his left. Jemina glowered at him instead of the younger warrior, no doubt recalling his unwise comments from their first meeting at the wall. Adjusting the neckline on the shirt he wore, Aras remembered he had dared to mock her size and potential skill as a warrior. He started to defend himself, but realized he would sound even more foolish trying to blame another. He would have to accept responsibility for this rudeness, his fault or not, because of a foolish error he made in the past. Would he ever learn to hold his tongue and think before speaking? From Attie to Jemina, his harsh words often pained those he cared about. Well, Aras understood he no doubt said things other men in his life took exception to, but he really did not care about their trivial feelings.

  Anders tried to draw attention away from Aras. “I am glad to learn you are a skilled warrior, Jemina. My own mother had to protect my younger siblings after evildoers breached our border, slaughtered my fathers and tried to penetrate our family unit. She had no formal training in the manner of wielding a sword. I believe her natural instincts as a mother provided her with the necessary skills when the time came. She avenged my fathers’ deaths, killing four of the five men who had attacked before other warriors from our village managed to come to her aid.”

  Jemina sat up tall, her eyes glued to Anders. Aras noted the admiration in her eyes and tucked this insight away into a corner of his mind. Knowledge was power. His little village daughter respected those who protected their own and did not cower in the face of danger. His thoughts were confirmed when she spoke. “Your mother is a remarkable woman, sir. I would be honored to meet her one day so I can learn more about her courage.”

  “Such is the irony, sweet Jemina. To lay eyes on my dear mother, you might consider her to be meek. She is a tiny thing in stature and weight, but her inner strength takes over if the need arises,” Anders said. “If the Creator does one day bless me with any daughters, I will see to it they can defend themselves and others if the need arises.”

  “All women should be instructed in such matters.” The comment came from the person least likely to say such a thing.

  All eyes turned to rest on the small figure of the city bride who sat at the head of the table. Clad in a white, carefully designed bridal gown, she had not uttered a sound until now, and most who saw her were inclined to think she was too overwhelmed to speak. Her voice was steady and full of passion as she spoke, though. Jael rested a protective arm around her shoulders as she continued.

  “Where I come from, defending yourself or those you care about is considered wrong. I watched someone I grew up with endure cycles of horrible taunts and vicious insults by older, hateful kids. Ignore them, she was told when she asked the elders to protect her. Turn their ugly words into a means to strengthen your inner resolve, they suggested.” Giannis laughed bitterly.

  “Once, when I was ten cycles old, I found the courage to stand up to the others who taunted her, demanding they cease their cruelty or face the consequences. The city priestess heard my angry promises, and I was sanctioned for being confrontational. It was not my concern that the poor girl was being teased, I was told. I needed to concern myself with making our city a better place for the whole, not try to improve the life of an individual.”

  Her emerald eyes grew dark as she continued her telling. “The true offenders went unpunished, and soon increased their mocking of my friend knowing it angered me and hurt her. The stress wore down her self-worth, and eventually she threw herself off of the tallest roof in the city. I will never forget the day it happened. I raged at the city priestess who led our region. Bella’s death was her fault and I swore I would find a way to escape the city one day.”

  “It would please me to teach you the ways of defending yourself, wife,” Jael told her. Her mates Chaim and Moshe agreed to instruct her as well.

  “And I will help you master the way to thrust a dagger and how to swing a sword with precision,” Jemina declared. “You and I are sisters now, Giannis. I may soon be leaving this village after I become a bride, but I know you will remain behind, championing the cause of our women, and their right to be allowed to train for whatever path they choose in life.” Raising a goblet of wine high in the air, she offered a toast. “Long live the descendants of Urijah, be they women or men!”

  Aras shook his head, not in sanction, but in weary acceptance. If he managed to win Jemina’s hand in marriage, he would likely spend his life chasing after willful children who were ready to challenge long held traditions. He took comfort in knowing his little warriors would be an asset when the time came to avenge the wrongs of the city.

  Aras wished he could find a way to spend time with Giannis. She had a wealth of information about the inner workings of the city and no loyalty to rulers who were unfair. He needed to gather all the facts he could about what went on behind the inner wall. Who was in charge? What was the general layout of the land? Where were the women inside the city allowed to travel? Every bit of knowledge put his family one step closer to righting a wrong.

  7

  Views on Scolding

  A blaring horn sounded, rousing the sleeping warriors who occupied the center of the village of Urijah. Aras and his triad leaped from their sleeping rolls, instantly alert for potential danger, weapons ready to strike. The other Konrad triad also bounded to their feet, ready to do battle. A few feet away, slumbering peacefully in the middle of the platform where Jemina and her family stood the night before, Crosby turned to his side, his blond locks shielding the rising sun from his view, unaware of the commotion. Hendrix and Johan had managed to finally gain their feet but each had to search for their swords. They had made no obvious effort to stow the weapons close by before falling asleep.

  “Good morning, potential brothers,” a small child yelled at the top of his lungs before blowing deeply into his horn again. Aras was the first to realize all was safe and put down his weapon. The others followed his lead. Stretching and shaking off the last bits of sleep, the men started putting away their belongings.

  While in the Village of Urijah, they would camp in the center of the community. According to custom, they rested there because they were still fledglings awaiting the right to claim their bride. Instead of the city wall, they guarded the meeting area where their bride would come to wed the victors.

  Aras, now a seasoned soldier knew the true reason. Outsiders were not trusted, even those welcomed within the grounds to compete for a village bride. While warriors took
turns patrolling the border of Urijah, a more subtle lot, no doubt guarded this meeting area, guaranteeing all strangers were accounted for and not a threat to the village. Scanning the area, he noted no less than nine hardened, battle ready men observing them from behind trees and buildings.

  The boy playing the horn suddenly stopped. Aras turned to find out why. Loinbard was sanctioning Hendrix, who had tired of the child’s off-key tune, and apparently launched a hard shoe at the boy’s head. His brother roared, “No honorable warrior would bring harm to a child. If you seek someone to spar with, by all means allow me to accommodate you.”

  One of the large soldiers who had been charged with keeping the triad from Finn in check had already begun advancing toward the platform. At first Aras thought it might even be the village elder called Alistrair, but dismissed the thought quickly. Someone of such high regard would not likely be playing wet nurse to visitors. Hearing Loinbard address the offending Hendrix must have soothed matters because Aras noticed the man melt back into the distance. No one had even noticed his presence except him. Aras had learned to be alert, to search for threats others did not even fear.

  Hendrix sneered at those standing below him as he stood on the raised platform. The night before, as each triad selected a portion of land to set up camp, he and Johan had laid claim to the center. Neither of the other triads had even considered challenging for the position. They thought it disrespectful to sleep upon hallowed ground used to celebrate life and bring sad news of death.

  The Finn warrior lifted his chin and sneered. “You speak bravely for a man of your position. We all heard about your past last night. You never even served a single cycle at the wall, fledgling. If your own village elders did not have enough faith in your fighting skills to send you there, why would I waste my time even conversing with the likes of you? Your blood is not worth spilling with my sword.”

  Anders put a hand on Loinbard’s muscular shoulder, staying the younger man’s movement forward. “Ironic how village elders decide which fledglings to send to the city walls, isn’t it? Now that I have aligned myself with another village, I have learned many things. In Konrad, for instance, men are allowed to decide if they want to serve on the wall. Some, like my new brother here, train as warriors, and after proving their skill, go straight to guarding the village border because they don’t seek a city bride.”

  His eyes had been on Hendrix as he spoke, but now Anders smiled at Loinbard before sharing more. “Now, in the village of Finn, things are somewhat different. All fledglings are expected to progress in their skills until they are deemed worthy to serve on the walls. If a man, or a pair of men in rare cases, fail to achieve such status, they may only go to the wall if they allow another, superior warrior to act as their leader.” His tawny eyes flickered back to Hendrix again. “Even if this new leader is someone younger than them.”

  The boy with the horn started hooting with amusement. Picking up the shoe that had silenced him before, he tossed it back at the platform. “Our village has its own rules about who is allowed to go to the city wall,” he called out. “Asses like those three would never be allowed to service the wall or the border. We value our safety too much.”

  A frustrated Leodon appeared from the west. “Finnigan, what is taking you so long to make your announcement? The village cooks are ready to set the tables for the morning meal. Explain to the triads what you have been charged to say and head back home.”

  “Yes, Papa Leodon.” The child’s face reddened and his voice took on a monotone quality. “Honored guests of Urijah, please join us at our table for nourishment. During the meal, the first challenge for Jemina’s hand will be detailed so you may prepare your triads accordingly.” His father gone now that the duty had been taken care of, the boy smiled brightly at Anders, Loinbard and Aras.

  “But you won’t have much time to consider how to proceed,” he spoke in hushed tones, repaying the triad’s kindness with a bit of extra information. “The event takes place at the training fields at noon. Tis when the fledglings break for their meal so the area is available. My sister wields a wicked sword. Beware her left slash. It comes without warning and stings like the blazes.”

  “Is she going to slice us up and wait to see who survives to claim her as bride?” Anders mused with a tilted chin. “If so, Hendrix and Crosby will be the first to fall victim.”

  “Whatever the task, eat your meal quickly and meet me at the border so we can go into the forest to develop our tactics,” Aras told his triad. The child called Finnigan was as spirited as his sister Jemina. It gave him hope. Their children might well be blessed with inner strength beyond measure. Would their son boast thick, untamed curls? His stepfather Wolf would be thrilled to have grandchildren with red hair. His second mother Attie often teased her mate about his preference for such hair but Aras had never figured out why.

  Jemina heard Riley, one of the Konrad men, lean forward to mock Aras. “We all would be alarmed at how intently our hopeful bride stares at you, my friend, fearing you had an unfair advantage over the rest of us. Yet one cannot help but notice she appears to be waiting to scold you for some slight you have given her.”

  “Village brides do not scold,” she instructed those listening around her, as she carelessly began smearing a piece of bread with red jam. “We instruct, explain or challenge, but never scold. Until we are married, that is. Then we are free to scold as often as needed to help improve our mates’ shortsightedness.”

  Finnigan began giggling, and Jemina give her youngest brother a sly wink. That brief moment of letting her focus on Aras waiver cost her. The element of surprise was on his side as he easily snatched the bread and knife from her hand. She groused at him as he started reapplying the jam in a methodical manner, leaving no speck on the top uncovered.

  “Village husbands are much the same way,” he said in a low, even tone. Others leaned in closer, trying to hear his words, but they were for her ears only. “We are free to scold as often as needed to help our mates learn any valuable lessons needed. I, myself, believe discussing issues is more productive than other means. But, if my wife were to do something foolish, say: put herself in danger, I would apply vast amounts of attention to her backside to help her learn the foolishness of her actions. I’d be careful not to bruise her flawless, pale skin, but hard enough to prompt long term effects.”

  “What did he say?” Gerald, another of Jemina’s younger brothers demanded.

  “He said he’d redden her arse if he were her husband,” Finnigan hollered, and Jemina turned to shove him off of his chair.

  For his part, Aras neither denied nor affirmed the child’s account, infuriating her even more. His next warning was loud enough for all to hear. “I would be more cautious when scolding your younger brother, my lovely Jem. My blood brother Loinbard has taken a liking to the boy, acting as his champion of sorts. He has let it be known he will physically punish anyone doing harm to the child.”

  Her face turned crimson, but before she could reply, he turned away from her to address Anders. “How do the men in Finn ‘scold’ their mates? I am sure Jemina would be interested in learning as much as she could about those seeking her hand.” The men started chuckling.

  Jemina nearly fell from her chair as she stood up in frustration. “Enough!”

  To think she had been rethinking the first challenge all during the morning meal, worried it was too harsh? Now she was determined to leave a lasting mark on each and every man seeking her hand in marriage. Jemina, village bride of Urijah, was not some timid wife they would lead around, telling her what she could and could not do. She was a warrior! It was time for them all to discover this fact. “Father, it is time to announce the first task.”

  Ellias pushed back his chair from the head of the table and waited for all eyes to lock on him before speaking. “There is still time,” he glanced at Jemina one last time, but she crossed her arms in determination. “So be it. Triads, listen closely, for I have details of the first challenge yo
u will face. Before explaining, I need to remind each of you of the rules for claiming a village daughter. First, challenges will be determined by the bride and her family, as many as necessary until a clear winner is named. Secondly, our family unit, namely Ellena, Darnish, Leodon and I will determine the winner of each challenge. Outsiders, Jemina or even our village elders cannot overturn our decision, so be warned. Arguing will not be tolerated.”

  Jemina wanted to slam her fist down on the table when her father’s eyes lingered in her direction after he gave the caution. Was everyone resolved to humiliate her today? “I believe you were on your third point, father.” The words came out through clenched teeth.

  “Third, a winner will be declared once one triad wins three challenges. The losing triads will be allowed a few moments to collect their belongings before they are ushered off the village grounds. Finally, the joining ceremony will be held in the gathering area. Once the three nights of claiming are complete, we will rejoice with the new family unit at a celebration gathering before our strongest warriors help escort Jemina and her husbands to her new village.” His voice faltered toward the end, but his wife came to stand beside him, tucking herself under his protective shoulder.

  “May I explain the first challenge, husband?” He nodded, pleased she was sparing him from speaking while emotion weakened him. “A village bride is allowed to plan for one of the first three challenges. The elders felt it wise to give the girl being pursued a chance to put the odds in favor of any suitors she preferred. Most girls wait until the third challenge, allowing themselves to spend time with the various candidates before deciding which group she favors.”

  Laughing gaily, Ellena offered more information. “Our dear daughter is not like most, as I am sure you all have discovered by now. She already has your measure, having traveled with her fathers to announce her coming of age. And unlike many brides, who give an easy win to the triad of their choice by coming up with some ridiculously simple challenge, Jemina has decided to put you all to the test. For your first challenge, your triads will face off with my little warrior. She will await your groups in the center of the training field. Your task is to relieve Jemina of her sword.”