March 20, 2023: Vernal Equinox
Springtime! For gardeners and farmers, it's a busy time of year. It always has been.
I've been busy preparing the manuscript for All Shook Up, so I thought to celebrate today with a simple post, an springtime excerpt from Tremors Through Time.
“ ‘The sun hung midway between heaven and earth, the great loch silver beneath it, as Lachlann An Damh plowed his field.’ That sounds good, don’t you think? Must you do that?”
Lachlann stopped in his tracks to glare at Rónán, who sat on a rock, sketching and watching him work.
“Must I do what?”
“It would be much more picturesque, and my drawing would look a lot better, if you would guide your oxen like any normal tuathanach. But no, you can’t be like other farmers. You have to pull the plow yourself, like one of your beasts.”
“At the moment, I have more land than beasts,” grunted Lachlann, straining as he pulled the heavy, wooden plow over a deep rut. “One day, I’ll have more oxen. In the meantime, if you wish to draw a picture of my team, they’re in the next field with Fearghus.”
“Unfortunately, you’re my subject, not the oxen,” Rónán murmured as he sketched.
Lachlann sighed. He had too much on his mind for senseless banter.
“I’m to get married,” he announced abruptly and continued down the field.
He glanced back, satisfied to see his friend hastily unfolding his long, lean form from the boulder.
“You’re getting married?” Rónán questioned as he joined him.
“To your cousin, the chief’s niece.”
“The chief’s…do you mean Allasan?”
Lachlann nodded. “Allasan.” He glanced at the bard.
Rónán looked stunned. “But…she’s not your type!
She’s half your size!”
“She’s not even friendly!”
“You mean that she doesn’t like Norsemen. Believe me, I know.”
“She doesn’t like anyone. Whose idea was this?”
“Your chief’s. He and Allasan’s father approached my father.”
“Are they forcing you?”
Lachlann had to smile. Rónán sounded appalled. He shook his head. “No one’s forcing us.”
“Then why are you marrying her?”
“It will be another bond between our people.”
Lachlann paused to adjust the plow. “And I’ve no one else in mind. Why offend the chief and upset my family?”
“A bond between our people? What about the bond between you and your wife?” Rónán was almost shouting.
“You worry too much, my friend.”
“I would wish you happiness.”
We know that this good man and tuathanach extraordinaire does find happiness where he would never expect to.
For more Medieval Monday, be sure to visit amazing medieval ladies Mary Morgan and Barbara Bettis.
May springtime be a time of joy and renewal for all.
It's no secret that I prefer fat HEAs. Where better than in a beautiful romance?
From me to you with a smile.
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