The Arranged Marriage
"But Mother," I protest, as I have been doing for the past three weeks "he is triple my age. And ugly."
Such little concerns do not bother Mother, and she ignored me, brushing her flour -covered hands on her apron. "Nonsense," she says, barely glancing at me. "He's rich."
"Oh!" I say, throwing my hands in the air. "Well! If he's rich, than nothing else matters! By the Goddess, Mother, his son is closer to my age!" And much more to my taste, I thought, but did not mention to Mother. "It would be - be a scandal!"
This was the only thing that caught Mother's attention, and she finally turned to look at me, propping her hands on her hips. "Squire Peters is rich and is besotted with you. But your father and I will not carry you kicking and screaming to the church, young lady. Seeing how you've invoked the Goddess so many times this week, you can either marry the Squire tomorrow or head for the convent."
"Mother," I said scornfully, tossing my hair out of my face and propping my own hands on my hips - though it was undoubtedly less effective then Mother's gesture - "the convent? With priestesses and - well -" No men, I thought, but I hardly was going to say that to Mother.
"It's a fair choice, Ani," Mother said. "Wife or priestess?"
I stare at her, and swallow. I could hardly picture myself in either life. I was unsuited to be a priestess, with my thoughts . . . But they were the only non-noble women with power in the land. And it was whispered that they learned magic.
But how could I go against all I had been told? How could I abandon a life in the village, with my friends, being the obedient daughter? I wanted children. I just didn't want the Squire. His son, on the other hand . . .
And then, in the back on my mind, from a kernal so small I barely acknowledged it, came another thought. What if I left? Tonight, before anyone was the wiser? Tom was only two years older than me, and my brother was slender; I could borrow his clothes.
But that was ridiculous, I thought.
Ridiculous.
Still . . .
I take a steady breath, and clenching my hands, I turn to give Mother my answer.
Such little concerns do not bother Mother, and she ignored me, brushing her flour -covered hands on her apron. "Nonsense," she says, barely glancing at me. "He's rich."
"Oh!" I say, throwing my hands in the air. "Well! If he's rich, than nothing else matters! By the Goddess, Mother, his son is closer to my age!" And much more to my taste, I thought, but did not mention to Mother. "It would be - be a scandal!"
This was the only thing that caught Mother's attention, and she finally turned to look at me, propping her hands on her hips. "Squire Peters is rich and is besotted with you. But your father and I will not carry you kicking and screaming to the church, young lady. Seeing how you've invoked the Goddess so many times this week, you can either marry the Squire tomorrow or head for the convent."
"Mother," I said scornfully, tossing my hair out of my face and propping my own hands on my hips - though it was undoubtedly less effective then Mother's gesture - "the convent? With priestesses and - well -" No men, I thought, but I hardly was going to say that to Mother.
"It's a fair choice, Ani," Mother said. "Wife or priestess?"
I stare at her, and swallow. I could hardly picture myself in either life. I was unsuited to be a priestess, with my thoughts . . . But they were the only non-noble women with power in the land. And it was whispered that they learned magic.
But how could I go against all I had been told? How could I abandon a life in the village, with my friends, being the obedient daughter? I wanted children. I just didn't want the Squire. His son, on the other hand . . .
And then, in the back on my mind, from a kernal so small I barely acknowledged it, came another thought. What if I left? Tonight, before anyone was the wiser? Tom was only two years older than me, and my brother was slender; I could borrow his clothes.
But that was ridiculous, I thought.
Ridiculous.
Still . . .
I take a steady breath, and clenching my hands, I turn to give Mother my answer.