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Torguar was not perturbed by his daughter’s sullen tone; she was offering no essential rebellion, which relieved him. Though full of bluster, especially when addressing his wife and daughter, he did not relish real quarrels that went beyond what he regarded as good-natured yelling.
“Don’t you worry your head about it, my girl, your father’s not cruel and he’s not an idiot either, eh, isn’t that right, wife? Of course you’ll get a chance to meet the lad. Soon enough, in fact, so brighten up. I have spoken to his mother, and the young man is to visit us tomorrow.”
He knew of the unfortunate death that had struck at his daughter’s hopes and heart, but he imagined that the slain suitor could easily be replaced in Tora’s affections. Women were like that, after all. Give them a home and a man, any man, and they clung to him. And by the sound of it, this Drenda was not just anyone – he was a noble youth with considerable prospects.
“Of course, Tora my girl, I would not pledge you to someone I hadn’t given a proper examining. Who knows? Their side of the bargain may not hold; the mother may have talked up her pup; it wouldn’t surprise me. But the word is he’s a good man, well, a boy really, younger than you are, I think; not much money, but a strong arm, an excellent hunter, and plenty of courage. Noble blood, you know. A fine catch for the family. His name is Drenda, son of Drenduld; the mother is called Gausen. The boy lives at the Hall; if you marry him, you’ll be presented to the Chieftain himself, I should expect!”
Torguar smiled widely and gave his daughter a quick clench, conveying a throwaway, momentary sense of love. Then he let her go, and started to walk out, giving her a wink as he left:
“And he’s tall and good looking. What more could a girl like you ask, eh?”
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