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It was amidst a rush of laughter and cheerfulness that Saeryn was abducted back to Scarburg. A half dozen horses cantered around her and Harreld, the people calling jovial comments back and forth. Saeryn sat side ways on Harreld’s saddle-bow, his arm securely about her waist to keep her from jumping down. She laughed along with the rest, but her mind kept going back to Eodwine, alone now as he surely must be.
They came back to the encampment and the waiting people breathless with laughter, excitement, and the speed of the horses. A cheer arose from those who had stayed behind, and Saeryn was lowered to the ground to be embraced and kissed by Modtryth, Kara, Rowenna, and all the other women folk, before she was hurried away to prepare for Eodwine’s arrival. They did not have much time, but it was enough to let her hair down and arrange it into a contained mass of falling curls, crowned with a wreath of flowers.
“He returns! He is coming!” Shouts and hails from outside brought Saeryn running. She could not see him yet, but she rushed to meet him in the Baker where all the others were assembled. She glanced around the lighted tent. Eodwine was not there, but all the eyes and faces were directed outside. She went in the indicated direction – the people made way for her – and then she saw him, leading his horse up into the ring of light and bearing two swords.
If Eodwine looked a spectacle, Saeryn did not notice. She thought he looked like a hero returning from a distant war. She ran forward and threw her arms around his neck, seeking another kiss.
Thornden followed discreetly, and when Eodwine’s hand loosed Flíthaf’s reins in order to take his wife, Thornden took hold of the horse instead. Then, gently, so as not to disturb, he took the swords from the eorl’s hand and then led Flíthaf away.
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