At least this was summer, Aelfric thought. This would have been a miserable trip in the winter. Score one for the tradition of marriages being the most blessed when held in this season. Although possibly it had a lot to do with the ready availability of flowers.

The hooves of his family’s horses clattered on the stones of the street, but the noise was lost among the regular sounds of the capital city. Blaecstan had grown up where three major trade roads met at a bridge across a navigable river, and the thriving town had been claimed by the current king’s father as his royal seat when he proved to be a sufficiently-successful warrior and leader to own a kingdom rather than his original rocky county.

All three primary roads led directly to the central Great Market, which surrounded the White Bridge and the docks. Their tributaries fed goods and people out through the city like blood through a body in a flow as constant as a heart’s beating. The old part of the city was within a protective wall, including the Great Market, but it had spilled outside of that with the boom in prosperity granted by the king’s presence.

Even for modestly well-off landowners from a much smaller market town a day’s ride away, trips to the capital were uncommon events. The noise and bustle, akin to that of their own town but multiplied dramatically, was fascinating.

Aelfric’s mauve mare was finding it much less fascinating. She’d been mildly skittish in their small town, but hadn’t actually panicked; Aelfric had been concerned that she lacked the experience to handle this trip, barely broken as she was. While he’d have preferred to ride Dragon, it was safer to have the big cantankerous stallion safely at home in the pasture, using that single sharp horn to guard his mares and this year’s foals and not on a random citizen who got too close or a dutiful stablehand who had the misfortune to not be Aelfric. Swallow’s ears flicked nervously back and forth, just outside and behind her two short back-curved ivory horns, trying to track everything, and her strides broke now and then into a couple of jogged steps before settling.

He’d worked hard at earning her trust, though, and she responded well to the familiar hand and voice. As long as his attention stayed largely on her, he didn’t think it would go beyond that.

Beside him, his sister Leofeva had more faith in her calm mint-green gelding, and was looking around with some intensity but no expression. Under other circumstances, Aelfric might have thought she was watching for something or someone in particular. He didn’t have the attention to spare to wonder what. Ahead of them, their parents rode side by side, though it was their father who was choosing the route; their mother let her creamy mare drop behind his turquoise gelding when their path was narrowed by other traffic or carts selling an astonishing array of goods and foodstuffs.

Their brother Richold nudged his sky-blue mare up closer to Aelfric. “There’s a street cart over there selling flowers. I’m going to get something for Teoda—a wreath of roses, maybe. Red should be appropriate, right?”

“You’re marrying her in a few days, Rich. I don’t think it could be considered all that scandalous to give her red flowers at this point.”

Richold dropped his voice. “Maybe I should get Leo something? White, yellow, pale pink?”

Aelfric glanced at Leofeva, and sighed. “It’s worth a try. Maybe it’ll at least get a smile. The situation’s not great, but... it’s Josceran, not someone she’s never met who’s twice her age, has already buried three wives for any of a dozen reasons, and will drag her to the other side of the country away from everything she knows.”

Richold dipped his head in agreement. “We’re not children any more. Josceran was an awful pest to all of us, but he mostly grew out of that before he left, and he has to have grown up, being away in the north for, what, a year and a half? And he could have done worse than he did.”

“A lot worse.” Which wasn’t to say that they hadn’t all found themselves in trouble with adults repeatedly, unable to prove that they hadn’t been responsible for the day’s mischief. From an adult perspective, the pranks had been just that, leaving the others toiling to clean or find or sort whatever had been soiled or hidden or disordered. Yet he’d never been violent to them or pets or livestock or even wildlife, and sometimes even his victims had to admit he’d been clever. Besides, when he wasn’t playing pranks, he’d always been fun to spend time with and, when not getting the others in trouble, would stand up for them with no hesitation, even taking the blame himself. It was a confusing and complicated friendship, to say the least.

That hadn’t stopped the children of the three leading Rosebridge families from slipping away when they could so all of them could play together in the woods. The children of tenants and yeomen and servants were mostly discouraged by their own parents from associating socially with the children of the miller, the innkeeper, and the reeve, who between them owned most of the town, and it was better than being isolated with one’s siblings.

Confusing and complicated or not, Josceran’s absence had left a hole in the familiar rhythms of their world, ever since his father had abruptly sent him north to stay with family. Aelfric was glad, at least, that this marriage situation meant he coming home. He had, quite simply, missed him.

Aelfric fished a coin from his purse and handed it to Richold. “Find Leo something nice.”

While Richold fell back to visit the flower cart, Aelfric turned his attention to keeping his seat on his mare as a spotted terrier ran past, all too close to being under her feet. The dog was followed by a child, and that by an adult woman in clothing less expensive than that of the child, likely his nursemaid. The skittish mare delayed him so long that Richold was able to catch up with him, a crown-sized wreath of red flowers looped over his arm and two ribbon-tied posies, one pink and white, one yellow and white, in one hand.

“We lost sight of our parents,” Richold observed. “And Father was the only one who knows where Redsmith Lane is.”

“We’ll find them. We know the general area and I’m sure we can get directions. How bad can it be?”

It turned out to be unexpectedly difficult to get busy townspeople to pause long enough to offer directions, and when they did succeed at that, the directions that had sounded clear enough had ambiguous details.

“Is that the building with the horse carved into the stone that they meant, or was it the one over there, do you suppose?”

“Are you sure that’s a horse, and not a deer?”

“Not sure in the least.”

“There’s a green park with a fountain... no, that can’t be the right one, she said it had swans and this one is clearly frogs and fish.”

“Aelfric! Richold!”

Both turned towards the source of the hearty hail, and Aelfric, at least, sighed in relief.

“Master Cristoval,” he said, bowing his head respectfully.

Richold kept his mare in place beside his brother, echoing the bow, but his eyes sought out those of one of the two younger women accompanying Ximeno Cristoval; Aelfric saw her looking back at his brother, her cheeks darkening under the pleasant deep brown of her skin. Her sister glanced at her and smiled.

Another of the party, Ximeno’s son Guillen, was possibly Aelfric’s closest friend, or maybe friendly rival, since both had a competitive streak within their shared interests. Completing it was Ximeno’s wife Vituccia Enotrio, who smiled at the two Glaedwins, absently reining her pale-honey mare aside to let a donkey-drawn cart of vegetables pass. She was obviously comfortable on horseback, even though she and her daughters were all on horses the Glaedwins had loaned them for this trip. There was normally no need for them each to have one, and the inn had limited space for pasture. The single-horse wagon Ximeno used for his occasional trips to Blaecstan would have been slower, and walking just unbearably so.

“Wandering the city?” Ximeno asked.

“We got lost,” Aelfric admitted ruefully. “We don’t know the city well and we got separated from our parents and sister.”

Ximeno laughed. “Easy to do. Come along, then. Can’t have Richold going astray at this point. Teoda would be inconsolable, I think.” Raised much farther south before moving here to buy land and settle down with Vituccia, his accent was still quite perceptible, but he’d been here almost as long than he’d been there and it wasn’t at all hard to understand him.

Teoda’s blush deepened, and she looked down, combing a tangle from her mare’s rosy mane with her fingers, but she was smiling.

“We’d be very grateful, sir,” Aelfric said.

“Come ride beside Teoda, Rich,” Ilduara said, reining her straw-yellow gelding aside to make room. “Mother can ride with Guillen and Aelf can ride with Father. And I’ll make sure no one falls behind.” Her brother nodded agreement, and threw Aelfric and Richold a friendly, casual gesture of greeting with one hand as he brought his own mare—a striking near-white with the faintest touch of violet, stronger in her mane and tail, which might be part of Dragon’s perpetual fascination with her—into line next to his mother.

Two abreast was about as good as it seemed likely to get in the busy streets, and often they couldn’t even manage that much, which made conversation difficult at best.

Regardless, Ximeno did lead the way to Redsmith Lane.

One entire face of the street seemed to be a single immense red-brick structure, with barely enough room between it and the street itself to allow two fairly-friendly people to walk side by side, with many neatly-spaced doorways along it. The opposite face held businesses, as near as Aelfric could tell.

A third of the way down, three consecutive doors each had a bright-coloured length of fabric tied to the iron lamp sconce next to them. Aelfric recognized the promised marker, and the deep rose and dark green his family had been using for generations; the central one was greenish-blue and white, and the one on the other side yellow and red.

“And here are our promised accommodations,” Ximeno said.

“Thank you,” Aelfric said. “We could have been wandering around until nightfall or beyond, with the luck we were having. I’ve been here with Father a few times but I cannot seem to get the trick of navigating through all these buildings and streets.” He swung off his mare and patted her in approval. Despite her nerves, she’d done well. The others dismounted as well, the women shaking out the skirts of chemise and overdress to get them back into order, but trousers with shirt and sleeveless leather jerkin—it was too warm for a doublet with the jerkin—was a costume that needed no such fussing. Each saddle had a pack strapped behind it with anything that hadn’t been packed into their trunks, easily freed and slung over shoulders. “Can we help you with the horses?”

“No need, sir,” said a middle-aged man in practical browns and greys, approaching from across the street. “You’re Her Majesty’s guests, correct? Glaedwins, Cristovals, Denisots?”

“Aelfric and Richold Glaedwin,” Aelfric said. “Ximeno, Guillen, Teoda, and Ilduara Cristoval, Vituccia Enotrio.”

“Yes, sir. There’s stabling across the street for the residences. No green pastures for them but we’ll look after them properly.”

“Please don’t take offence,” Aelfric said, “but I’d prefer to see for myself.”

“Of course, sir. My lads here,” he nodded towards two younger versions of himself, “they’ll lead any you like.”

“I’ll come along,” Guillen said. Not a surprise, since he supervised the stables of his family’s inn. “The rest of you can go inside. Or... whatever.”

“I was planning to visit later,” Richold said, with a hint of shyness that wasn’t normal for him at all. “This is a more casual setting than I intended for this, but... Teoda? I saw these and thought of you.” He held out the crown of red roses on both raised palms.

Aelfric traded glances with Guillen, and both went with the stable master, leaving them to it.

As near as Aelfric could tell, the man was telling the truth: through an archway that ran between and, in fact, under part of a shop, they came into a courtyard, and there were wooden doors all around, the upper half opened to expose the stalls within to the fresh warm air.

The stalls were clean and spacious and the horses seemed comfortable—Aelfric recognized his mother’s creamy mare and his father’s turquoise gelding, with his single short back-curved horn, among them. The various hands showed every sign of knowing what they were doing, and doing it with care, as they tied the horses to posts and began to strip off their gear. Aelfric unhooked his own sword and Richold’s from their respective saddles, along with his own small pack, and saw Guillen do the same with his own and his father’s. Nothing in Guillen’s expression or body language suggested that he saw anything to be concerned about; his gaze met Aelfric’s, obviously checking for much the same, and words weren’t necessary to agree: the horses would be safe.

“Be a little careful with my girl,” Aelfric told the stablemaster, slipping him a couple of coins. “She’s new to being in the city and a bit skittish. Watch her back feet if you startle her.”

“We’ll keep that in mind, sir, and thank you. Enjoy your stay in the city. Any time you want your horses, just let us know and we’ll have them out and ready for you in no time. There’s someone here day or night.”

Aelfric and Guillen turned their steps back towards the arch to the street.

They must be some contrast in the eyes of those who didn’t know them, Aelfric thought humorously. He was a handspan taller than Guillen, and blonde with light skin that had an annoying tendency to burn, not tan. That was a more typical look in this part of the world than black hair with dark skin, akin to their father’s and unusual but not unique this far north, that had strikingly green-gold undertones reminiscent of their mother’s. It had always been too easy for adults to distinguish between the tall blonde Glaedwin children, the slender dark Cristoval children, and the tanned brown-haired Denisot children who were between the extremes in colouring and build, and figure out from that who’d been getting into mischief. Josceran’s pranks aside, anyway. Actually, he’d made use of that a few times to mislead.

“Not Dragon,” Guillen chuckled, shifting the pack on his shoulder so it was more secure. “I’m not sure whether Breeze is going to be disappointed or relieved. I can never predict how she’ll feel any given day about his attentions.”

“Can you imagine him around all these people and other horses? I doubt a lawsuit, or several of them, would make life better for anyone. Besides, there’s nowhere here to race so she can flick that pretty tail in his face. But if we can find some open space, I’ll give you another chance to beat me with that sword.” He glanced sideways at Guillen, and grinned. “You’re due for another win.” That was just their usual taunting. They were pretty evenly matched, when it came right down to it, and either could outdo Richold or the Denisot brothers. Much the same was true of riding—who won a race on any given day depended heavily on many factors. Guillen on Breeze consistently beating Aelfric on Dragon had nothing at all to do with the riders.

Guillen laughed. “I’ll keep my eyes open for a place we can use. And you’re right, it’s been a while.”

“Besides,” Aelfric added. “You and I are at loose ends with everyone else getting married off. What else are we supposed to do with ourselves?”

At that, Guillen’s expression changed, though Aelfric couldn’t decide what it had changed to. “Yes, there’s that, too.”

“You’re not upset Leofeva’s marrying Josceran, are you? Did you want to?”

“What? Oh. No. I doubt they’ll be as devoted a pair as Richold and Teoda, but they should do as well as many and better than most.”

“And Ferrand will take good care of Ilduara.”

“I know. He promised me he would.” Guillen shook his head. “It’s fine. We should get back.”

They found the others waiting for them. Teoda’s loose black curls were now crowned with red roses, replacing the dusty scarf that had protected her hair on the road, and she had both hands in both of Richold’s, neither aware of much else; her sister Ilduara had the yellow posy and had raised it to inhale the scent of the flowers—a friendly gesture to a soon-to-be sister-in-law.

“Rich,” Aelfric said. “We need to go inside. Our parents and Leo are going to be wondering where we are. You two will get all the time you want together soon.”

The pair reluctantly let go and parted.

Aelfric stepped in to catch Teoda’s hand and give her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Since you’re going to be my sister soon,” he said teasingly. “Have a wonderful night settling in, all of you.”

With all due parting wishes, Aelfric and Richold went to the door of their own residence, and let the Cristovals enter their own, under the yellow and red banner.

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