XLVIII
Our attention will now return to the king. Once his army was fully mustered and counted at Oydnawl, he marched northwards over Fegennas until he came up to Bealnew without interruption. Solvega received him with pleasure and put him up in her house, while the bulk of his army camped nearby. They spent the better part of a month laying out their plans.
‘I will not repeat my brother’s mistakes,’ said the king. ‘I alone yet ward my father’s legacy, and I will not let it be lost.’
At that time, Thrandeo was still staying with Godleda at Ordenn, though he was very soon made aware of the king’s movements. He sent a handful of his trustiest watchers to keep an eye on him, though they all came back saying the same: the king was not moving.
‘It would seem,’ said Thrandeo, ‘that he does not mean to walk where he cannot see the way. Perhaps I can show it to him, though I doubt he will look.’
He resolved to send a rider off to request a meeting with the king. Much to his surprise, the king agreed. They came together at Fnoytovl, near Bealnew, on the first day of the new year. As they stood among the trees, the king asked Thrandeo what he wished to say.
Thrandeo said, ‘I have brought you here to state the terms of your surrender. I wish to see it done swiftly, and to dispense with the need for bloodshed.’
‘I am not here to surrender,’ said the king. ‘If you wish to dispense with the need for bloodshed, the terms are thus. Firstly, you and your peers must swear yourselves to me, your king, and fasten your fealty with a treaty acknowledging my kingship. Secondly, you must pay the appropriate fee for the murder of my reeves and the slaughter of my people. Thirdly, you, Thrandeo, must submit yourself into my custody, to face whatever justice your misdeeds are found to warrant, and those of all who have misdone on your behalf. That is all.’
‘You misunderstand me,’ said Thrandeo. ‘I am here to tell you the terms, and the terms are thus. Firstly, you will forsake your claim to kingship over any of the folk of Norlonn and fasten your oath with a treaty acknowledging my sovereignty. Secondly, you will pay the appropriate fee for the thirty years of hardship to which you and your forebears have subjected my people. Thirdly, you, Arneo, must submit yourself into my custody, to face whatever justice your misdeeds are found to warrant, and those of all who have misdone on your behalf. That is all.’
Of course, neither party would submit to the other, nor would they consider negotiation, and so they parted with nothing accomplished. The king returned to Bealnew to finalise his arrangements, and Thrandeo to Ordenn to do much the same. War, it seemed, was renewed.
Only a few weeks later, the king hastened northwards. His destination was a town further up the coast called Greyvos, in Fawnavol, which he meant to besiege. He and his army moved with such spirit, such deadly verve, that they arrived the very same day.
Thrandeo’s watchers came to him with news of the king’s departure as swiftly as they could. He set out to intervene, but as he took his troop across the river Tezennas, they were intercepted by a warband led by a woman called Elgowa Bodleonnan. She was a close friend of the king, the sister of Syoma, Lord of Gwonvek, and the wife of Alkeo, the Steward of Andenn and son of Rago the Chancellor. Elgowa and Thrandeo met in battle, and although Elgowa was slain, her comrades dealt out enough bloody vengeance to force Thrandeo back the way he came.
Thus, the king’s siege of Greyvos went unimpeded. The town was wholly unprepared to hold out against so determined an attacker, and the steward there, a man named Ronleo, knew it better than anyone. After only six days, he told his thanes to surrender.
‘If any help were coming,’ he said, ‘it would have come. As it stands, we will all have starved before any one of our foes is slain.’
‘If we surrender,’ said one of his thanes, ‘you will surely suffer the greatest penalty. We cannot condemn you so.’
‘If you have any love for your lord, then do as he bids. If my life will buy each of yours, I will gladly spend it.’
‘And we each will gladly spend our own for yours. If we are to die here, let us die as one!’
‘No! Your lives are much too dear to me to be wasted here. You must each live on and honour me without regret, nor guilt. Swear it, boys!’
His thanes all swore it. They would live for him, as he would die for them.
That day, Ronleo invited the king into the town and submitted to him, but he stipulated that none of his thanes were to be slain. The king agreed to that. He entered the town, took control of it, and expelled Ronleo’s entire retinue. And as Ronleo watched his beloved friends being bundled out of his hall, his home and theirs alike, he wept.
‘However it must end,’ he said, ‘a life full of love is a life well lived.’
Then the king stabbed him in the back, and that killed him.
Thrandeo heard about the king’s seizure of Greyvos shortly thereafter, and the news filled him with such rage, such manful shame, that he could not let it be. Within a month, he and Balkena, the Earl of Fawnavol, were riding side by side on their way to reclaim the town. When they arrived, they set themselves up outside, and then Thrandeo came to the gate to demand the king’s surrender. The king refused, and they all got to waiting.
Yet they did not wait long, for the king had been forewarned of Thrandeo’s approach and sent his swiftest rider rushing to Bealnew. She was pursued the whole way, but she had enough of a lead and more than enough conviction to get herself to Solvega’s house unscathed. She told Solvega what had happened and said the king had requested her help.
Solvega was quite unsure whether she should offer it. She had thus far very purposefully kept her warring within her own earldom, defending it as was her right. Now, however, the king had bidden her march into and against another. She asked her magnates for their opinions, and for each who told her to answer the king’s plea, another told her not to. After a few days of consideration, she chose to heed the king, and after a few days more, she set off for Greyvos with all the spears she could summon in the time allotted.
Solvega arrived the following day under the cover of the morning mist. She presumed anyone outside the town to be an enemy of those within and promptly sent her warriors rampaging through the first campsite she found. That turned out to be Balkena’s, and though she and her followers put up a stout defence, they had not been ready for a fight so early in the morning. They soon routed, affording Solvega the victory.
Thrandeo had set his company up rather closer to the town. Upon hearing the commotion of battle cutting through the mist, he sent a handful of brave lads off to investigate while he prepared the others to fight. Only one of them came back, and he did so with dire news.
‘Balkena is dead!’ he said.
Balkena was not dead. She had instead fled alongside her companions, but as Solvega was rifling through the corpses, she found a woman who looked somewhat like her, and not having seen her for a while, she took her to be the earl. Overcome with pride, she threw back her head and shouted in triumph, ‘Balkena is dead! Let it be known that Solvega is the worthier!’
Thrandeo’s lad heard this boast and brought it back to his lord.
‘Tell me,’ said Thrandeo, ‘who did this?’
The lad said, ‘Solvega. We alone now stand between her and Greyvos. If the king were to come forth, we would be struck on both sides.’
Thrandeo had not expected Solvega to so willingly fight for the king. He sat the lad down, listened for a moment, and then said, ‘All things considered, I retain the upper hand. There is no need to fight just yet.’
Thrandeo had his company pack up and make their way to a nearby town called Draga, a little further up the coast.
When Solvega came to Greyvos and told the king about the battle she had so expertly won, he was impassioned.
‘Balkena is dead,’ he said, ‘and Thrandeo is in flight. This is my chance to prove my quality and reclaim my father’s kingdom!’
Then he sent Solvega home to hold her domain and set off to seize Srander, the seat of Earldom of Fawnavol. Yet when he came there, he found the town abustle and the gate firmly shut.
‘I am your king,’ he said. ‘Let me in. Your earl is dead, and I will rightfully take possession of her authority.’
The wardens atop the gate whispered between themselves, and the tallest one said, ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘You are not our king. We will not let you in. Our earl is not dead. You will not take possession of her authority.’
‘Not dead?’ The king stood briefly bewildered, and then demanded proof that Balkena yet lived.
After a short wait, she appeared atop the gate and said, ‘I am Balkena, the Earl of Fawnavol, and I am very much alive.’
So the king’s gumption all but deserted him. He had not come to attack the town, but to be let in amid the sorrow of the common man, deprived of his lord. There was no such sorrow to be found at Srander, and no such deprivation. He turned around and went back the way he came.
But alas, it happened that Thrandeo’s eyemen had brought him news of the king’s venture. Thrandeo laughed out, and with his troop all hale and rested, he put them on their horses and rode them westwards until they crossed paths with the king mid-retreat at Eofnawl.
‘Oy-oy, boys!’ said Thrandeo. ‘Assail!’
Thrandeo and his warriors brought forth their full force, striking at the king’s company with all the fury of the north. The king did not stop to fight. He rode on, and he kept riding until he came at last to Greyvos, until he fell gasping from his horse, and until his followers stood much diminished. And before he had found the strength to stand, a certain large man appeared above him. That was Addeo, Lord of Flatteyr, who had come to Norlonn just as his late sister, Kona, had come with the king’s late brother.
‘How pathetic,’ said Addeo. ‘What sort of king is this?’
‘Your king,’ said the king. He arose and struck Addeo on the cheek.
‘Was that meant to hurt?’
The king said nothing more and went up to the hall.
As for Thrandeo, he was right chuffed.
‘What did I say?’ he said. ‘I have the upper hand. There is no glory in this war but mine.’
Thereafter followed some three months of nothing much. From Greyvos, the king sent regular raids up the coast, or into the surrounding countryside, while Thrandeo oversaw the ravaging of great swaths of the eastern reaches of Fawnavol, eager to see the king’s reavers all sent packing empty-handed. If Balkena had anything to say about this, she knew better than to do so. The king, however, did not. Whenever he caught wind of further wasting, he sent a troop to drive the culprits off, and this very often ended in a fight.
Then, after the king had weathered many such skirmishes, and as autumn approached with no harvest for him to reap, nor any prospect of plunder, Thrandeo besieged Greyvos once more. The king had thus far gained little more from his campaign than the first town he came to, and trapped therein with dwindling supplies, his heart grew heavy with despair, and his thoughts turned to surrender. He summoned a council of his foremost allies and asked them for their views.
‘If you surrender,’ said Addeo, ‘you will be surrendering rather more than your kingship in Norlonn. You will be surrendering your life, your legacy, and whatever little dignity to which you yet cling. If we are to die in this land, let us die with honour.’
The rest of the council was divided, though the majority sought to continue the fight, whatever might come of it. Last to speak was a crafty man named Yono Reyfneonnan. He has already been mentioned in this tale, for he was the second husband of the king’s sister-in-law, Yordhoa. Yono wanted the king to surrender himself to Thrandeo, but he would not speak the less popular opinion.
‘If you will think of nothing else,’ said Yono, ‘think of your father, and of the sacrifices he made to win this land. What would you sacrifice to keep it?’
‘Why sacrifice anything at all,’ said the king, ‘to keep what is already lost?’
Then the king retired.
That evening, Addeo and Yono met one another in secret, and they agreed that the king’s defiance of his council’s advice was cause enough for killing. They bade the king’s bodyguards betray him, and though they were reluctant to do this, they were eventually swayed by promises of wealth, and status, and rather more glory than they would gain from surrender. With the bodyguards’ backs all turned, Addeo stole surreptitiously into the king’s bedroom, drew the king’s own sword, and stabbed him as he lay asleep in his bed.
The king jolted awake, and upon seeing Addeo before him, he cried out, ‘Father! Father, forgive me!’
Then he died.
Addeo cast the sword upon his corpse and rushed out of the room, only to step back inside with Yono and the bodyguards.
‘O king!’ said Yono. ‘Whatever have you done?’
‘The king has forsaken us!’ cried Addeo. ‘The king has killed himself!’
News of the king’s death spread quickly, and a great commotion ensued. Addeo, with the backing of his fellow conspirators, took control of the town and did whatever he could to quell the upset, but the king’s supposed suicide had done little to bolster his comrades’ mettle. After three days spent wrangling with the king’s army, Yono urged him to speak the truth.
‘A man only kills himself,’ said Yono, ‘when his plight is truly hopeless. We must tell our friends otherwise, or we will have no chance against the foe that awaits beyond these walls. If they have any dignity, they will recognise what good you have done for them. If not, they are doomed whatever they do.’
Addeo summoned an assembly forthwith, bringing as many of the king’s thanes into the hall as it could fit. Amid the bustle of the crowd, he bellowed a plea for quiet, then spoke thusly: ‘The king is dead. We each have heard many foul whisperings about it, but I can put your minds at ease. He was slain not by his own hand, but by that of another—by mine.’
Addeo meant to go on, to justify his deed and win the thanes’ loyalty, but the hall erupted with such uproar that he never had the chance. Yono bade the king’s bodyguards draw their swords and avenge their lord, and it was done.
‘Yono?’ said Addeo. ‘What treachery is this?’
‘The treachery you suffer,’ said Yono, ‘is the treachery you deal.’
Addeo wailed, but with the hall so tightly packed, he could not shove his way out. The king’s thanes all set upon him, and he was slain.
Thereafter, Yono took control of Greyvos. He summoned another, smaller assembly to determine the way forward, and those in attendance were now much more willing to give up, weary after the fuss of recent days. They put the matter to a vote, and its outcome was decisive. Greyvos would surrender.
The next day, Yono himself went out to meet Thrandeo. He said the king was dead and avenged, and asked for all the mercy Thrandeo would give them.
‘The king is dead?’ said Thrandeo, a grim glimmer in his eye.
‘He is,’ said Yono. ‘There is no further need to fight. Greyvos is yours, this land likewise, and we will go home.’
‘Take me to him.’
‘Not before we agree the terms of our surrender. Understand, we must be assured of your mercy.’
‘That is the only term. Take me to him.’
‘If that is your only term, swear it. Let us make an oath.’
Thrandeo swore it, and Yono was satisfied. He led Thrandeo, as well as a great throng of his warriors, into Greyvos, up to the hall, and showed them the king’s corpse, still lying on his deathbed. Thrandeo went to the king, put his hand on his cheek, cold and sunken, and shed a single tear.
‘How cruel it is,’ he said, ‘to come between a hunter and his quarry. This cannot be forgiven. Swords, men!’
Then Thrandeo drew his sword, and with a single blow, he hewed Yono’s head from his shoulders. His followers took up their weapons likewise, and at their lord’s bidding, they rampaged their way through the hall and out into the town, slaughtering everyone who fought against them. Soon enough, they came to the gate, let their comrades in, and Thrandeo’s whole army rushed inside to join the sack. And what a sack! They tore through the town as if they were scything wheat, so dispirited were their foes, sparing neither man, woman, nor child the violence. In all, only a very few were fortunate enough to survive.
When everything had settled down again, Thrandeo returned to the hall, cut off the king’s head, and had his body dumped in the sea. He presented the head to his followers, lauded their courage, their loyalty, and then dismissed them all to spend the winter at home. He himself went home to Kyalannes, where he hung his prize above his door.
‘That makes two,’ he said. ‘Who will be next? Who would dare? There is no king in this land but me.’
* * *
News of the king’s death swiftly came home to Syorbak, and the moment she heard about it, Yordhoa summoned the royal council to appoint his successor in the lordship. They convened the next day, but only one claimant came forth: Kara, Yordhoa’s daughter.
‘No,’ said Fena the Chancellor. ‘We ought to hold on a while. After all, the king’s daughter was his preferred successor. She ought to be granted the chance to make her claim.’
‘Consider all that has happened in recently,’ said Yordhoa, ‘and consider whether Mora the Mouth is fit to follow it. Kara’s claim to the lordship is no lesser than hers, but her temper surely is.’
Fena had no interest in quarrelling, and least of all with Yordhoa. She said she would overlook propriety and chaired the council. They accepted Kara’s claim, and she thusly succeeded to the Lordship of Syorbak.
Yordhoa arranged a modest funeral for the king, even though there was no body to burn or bury, and then went westwards to Reykam for that of her late husband, Yono. The lord there, Mesdea, was Yono’s cousin, and they had each counted the other among their dearest friends. After a feast in Yono’s honour, Yordhoa and Mesdea swore themselves to one another.
‘Much is lost,’ said Mesdea, ‘but let this not be a time for partings. Let our friendship instead be all the firmer, for we two are alike in grief.’
But though Mesdea had shed many tears for her beloved cousin, if Yordhoa had wept at all for her husband, none had seen it.
With Mesdea’s friendship fastened, Yordhoa turned her attention to the coming lawmoot—Kara would take the kingship, whatever the cost. To that end, she had Rago, the former chancellor, brought to Syorbak, and offered to restore him to the chancellery in exchange for his support of Kara’s kingship.
‘I cannot agree to that,’ said Rago. ‘I will not return to that room unless my lifeless corpse is dragged there.’
‘Then do something else for me,’ said Yordhoa. ‘The fighting in the north has dragged on long enough. I see nothing to be gained from its continuation, so I wish to propose a settlement to bring it to its end.’
Her proposal was thus: Kara would relinquish her claim to seven of the eight earldoms, retaining only Eylavol, which would become a shire subject to the king’s law. Solvega would be invited to take up the reeveship, and to fasten their friendship, Kara would be betrothed to Solvega’s son, Enroko.
‘Your lineage, Rago, will thereby be raised to even greater status. All I ask of you is that you bring this offer to Solvega.’
‘Very well. But if she refuses, I will not be held accountable.’
Yordhoa thanked him for that and went on with things.
Rago came to Bealnew to meet Solvega a while thereafter, and he came in the company of his grandnephew, a striking young man named Alvaro. He was Kara’s cousin, being a grandson of the elder Arkelo through his second wife, Gondola, who was herself Solvega’s aunt, making Alvaro Solvega’s cousin-once-removed. It was for these relations that Yordhoa had chosen him to go on Kara’s behalf.
Solvega received her guests with pleasure, offered them a place in her house, and invited them to dine with her. As they ate, she asked her father why he had come to visit.
‘Do not mistake me,’ she said, ‘I am glad indeed to be reunited with you. In truth, I feared our previous parting would be our last. Nonetheless, I can only wonder what has brought you back here, and in such perilous times.’
‘I have come on behalf of Yordhoa,’ said Rago, ‘your cousin’s widow.’
‘I was not aware Arneo had remarried.’
‘He had not,’ said Alvaro. ‘The widow in question is that of my half-uncle, the younger Arkelo, your step-cousin.’
Rago said, ‘Her daughter has claimed the Lordship of Syorbak.’
‘That is Kara, your step-cousin-once-removed.’
‘Yes. I expect Kara will have claimed the kingship likewise before the year has ended.’
‘And such is her right.’
‘Thank you, Alvaro. Solvega, Yordhoa has proposed a new agreement by which we may bring this war you fight to an end.’
‘Whatever it is,’ said Solvega, ‘it will not be agreeable to Thrandeo.’
‘Save your doubt, please.’
Then Rago told her Yordhoa’s proposition.
Solvega said, ‘I would be glad to restore peace in my domain, to see it free of strife. I would be glad to take up the Reeveship of Eylavol, and to have my Enroko marry a king. I would be glad to support this, Father, but I alone cannot make this decision.’
Solvega summoned a meeting of the earls a few weeks later. At Thrandeo’s request, they met at Forsyorenn in Syagavol. That was the first time they had all come together in many years. Solvega relayed Yordhoa’s proposal to her peers, and they seemed broadly supportive of it, until Thrandeo arose.
‘Time and again,’ he said, ‘I have stated my terms. Norlonn will be as one, the kingship will pay amends according to my judgement, and the king will be surrendered to face my justice. I will accept nothing less.’
‘You have no right,’ said Solvega, ‘to decide that alone.’
‘I am your overlord. This land is mine to rule, and I will rule it—all of it! If that displeases you, lay your earldom aside, and I will let you live out your days in exile. Otherwise, we will fight until my demands are met.’
Solvega turned to the other earls and said, ‘My friends, how often have our people fought against kings? Why do you now bend before this one?’
Seybeo said, ‘Why do you bend before yours? If we are to be subjugated either way, I would rather be subjugated by my countryman—the man I chose.’
The other earls had little to add. The kingship seemed to have given up on their lands, so they deemed it wiser to stand beside Thrandeo.
Solvega turned back to Thrandeo and said, ‘Thus is your legacy assured. This land you claim to love will never know peace, and that will be your doing.’
Then Solvega left the room, and she left Forsyorenn the same day.
* * *
Between the king’s death and the lawmoot to elect his successor, Lota, his half-sister, came out of exile to contest the kingship once more. However, Yordhoa would not allow Kara’s claim to be contested, and so she met privately with Lota, just as she had four years prior, and they came to a new arrangement. Yordhoa meant to have Tholmodo, Lord of Flatteyr, stripped of his lordship, for he was the son of Addeo, who had murdered the late king.
‘Someone must be punished,’ she said, ‘and he is nearby. If you lay aside your claim to the kingship, I will grant you the Lordship of Flatteyr.’
Lota agreed to that. ‘But I have just one quibble. Has Kara not signed away her right to the kingship?’
‘She has, but that will be remedied.’
And it was. With the consent of all the living signatories, the royal council repealed the treaty by which Kara had forsaken her claim to the kingship. This was also the treaty which established the Earldom of Soyna, so Yordhoa had a new one written to re-establish it. She signed this at Glannas, the seat of her domain, as did Kara, Lota, Afdea, Lord of Awlteyr, and Fena the Chancellor, whereafter it was ratified by the royal council, and her earldom was restored.
By then, only one problem remained: Mora. She was, of course, very upset when she came grieving to Syorbak, only to find her inheritance snatched up by her cousin. She went before the royal council to complain, to demand that Kara yield the lordship to her, but Fena refused her.
‘What folly is this?’ said Mora. ‘Syorbak should be mine! Were my father’s wishes not clear?’
Fena said, ‘The Lordship of Syorbak is granted only by the king’s council. Your father’s wishes have no legal weight in this matter, though we nonetheless considered them.’
‘And still you granted the lordship to little Willow-hips? Preposterous!’
Mora strode seething from the room. The lordship was lost, but she might yet claim the kingship. To prevent that, Yordhoa tried to broker a deal with her, just as she had with Lota. Mora declined, and not in the least bit respectfully.
‘I need not plot and scheme,’ she said, ‘to get what I am owed. Get out of here, and when I am your king, hope I am a merciful one.’
So the matter came before the rede. At the lawmoot, both Kara and Mora stood before the lords and made their pleas, but there was only one way it could end. The petty lords bound to Syorbak all backed Kara, as did Mesdea’s allies. Karvalo also supported Kara, for he suspected Mora would be an altogether more grudgeful king following their dispute over the Lordship of Samnew. The last to vote was Fena on behalf of the royal council, but she could have chosen Mora ten times without changing the result, for it was decided long before the lawmoot was convened. Fena vacated the king’s chair forthwith, and Kara took it, and thus she succeeded to the kingship.
Mora left at once and returned to her home at Openn.
At Yordhoa’s urging, Kara’s first order of business was to forcibly strip Tholmodo of the Lordship of Flatteyr. After some discussion, the matter was put to a vote, and the lords supported it. Tholmodo did not stay in the room a moment longer, but his fate was set. Shortly after the lawmoot, Yordhoa levied an army and brought it to Flatteyr, where Tholmodo was hiding.
‘Tholmodo,’ she said, standing before the gate, ‘if you surrender, no harm will befall you. I will not kill you for your father’s crime, but this lordship cannot be retained by a king-killer’s kinsman. Take whatever time you need to consider it—I will wait.’
She did not wait long. After much discussion, Tholmodo’s wife, Arnora, convinced him to give up.
‘If this comes to battle,’ she said, ‘you are outmatched. Your only chance is to do as she asks. Surrender, and I am sure she will treat you fairly, for you have done nothing wrong. If you resist, you will be putting us all at risk.’
Tholmodo came out of Flatteyr the same day and surrendered himself to Yordhoa. She agreed to dispossess him and let him live out his days on some farm somewhere, but Lota urged her to reconsider.
‘You promised me Flatteyr,’ she said. ‘If you stand by that, you will ensure my lordship is unassailable.’
‘You have been a stalwart ally,’ said Yordhoa. ‘I suppose I can grant you that, but you must do the deed yourself, and I will not vouch for you should it become a judicial matter.’
‘Fair enough.’
Lota drew her beltknife.
‘Hold on,’ said Tholmodo, ‘that was not the agreement.’
But before he could say anything more, Lota cut his throat. The matter never became judicial, for she hid his body, and when Arnora asked what had become of him, she said he had gone off to live in obscurity.
‘That is some comfort, at least,’ said Arnora. She swore herself into Lota’s service there and then. ‘This is the very least I can do in return for the generosity you have shown me and my husband.’
Shortly thereafter, Lota’s former wife, Kadleyna, arrived. Lota was glad to see her, and she said, ‘I was sure you had died. There are no words for the utter joy with which I see that I was wrong.’
She asked Kadleyna what had happened after their battle against the king, and Kadleyna said she had married a woman named Gova, a sister of Syoma, Lord of Gwonvek.
‘But when I heard of your return from exile,’ she said, ‘I was gripped by a clawing need to be with you. Nothing could stay my heart, no love nor reason, for there is no love for me but yours, no reason for me but you. I meant to divorce her, but she was much too dear to me. I could not inflict such a pain upon her, but neither could I stay—I needed you, your voice, your touch. I killed her. That seemed the kindest thing to do, to leave, a widow of my own making, knowing she would not suffer.’ Kadleyna dropped to her knees and bowed her head. ‘Now all that remains, my Lota, my love, is you.’
Lota went to her, knelt before her, and with a gentle hand, lifted her chin.
‘Welcome home,’ she said, and then she kissed her. They were married again within a month.