Gerta

"Welcome to the annual Foaling Festival! As Spring approaches it's end, we are gathered to celebrate the fertility of our lands as we sow them, the winter we have weathered, and--most importantly--the bounty of newborn foals! Come one and all, and take part in the games and feasting of the season! May the festival begin!  The first competition shall be archery!"

Five gold coins was the price of my husband. Five gold coins for the slaying of Osgar son of Hincmar, a well-respected man in Aldburg. Five gold coins for a strong youth killing his weakened elder. Five gold coins for my beloved’s blood spilling out of his body. Five gold coins for the man I loved most to die in the darkest of nights, sputtering and gasping for breath. Five gold coins is a paltry sum. What fee can buy a husband’s love? A father’s care? A freeman’s fealty? That was no worthy trade.