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Bregoware
Rædwald
‘Well,’ he said to his horse as they plodded toward the lead group, ‘it’s a simple truth that women have their own ways.’ He patted his mount on the withers, more an assurance for himself as any comfort to the horse, who simply flicked his mane at the sudden touch. ‘She’ll get over whatever blue funk she’s sunk into and come round to her bright spirited self again. Just needs a little room to brood.’
His thoughts went back fondly to his mother, who had periodically thrown his father and her sons out of the house, suggesting they go do ‘something’, when she was feeling too hemmed in and bossed about. She’d say she was doing some deep cleaning and would they be so kind as to take the herd out to a far pasture for a few days or more. And it was true – the little cottage was gleaming and all in order when they’d come back, and she herself would be smiling and welcoming them with open arms. Perhaps that little space of time was all that Meghan would need to get her thoughts in order.
Rædwald kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks and pulled up just shy of the group of men at the head of the group. ‘Private confab going on, eh?’ he called out as he neared them. ‘Or can another join and shoot the breeze with you?’
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