Dream of Me/Believe in Me

a warrior not to catch it yet was it gone in a moment, replaced by a swift nod.
    “Yes, of course, I had planned to do that without delay. Naturally, I will be happy to assist her in any way I can.”
    He had an argument prepared, a speech for persuading her to comply. So swift was her agreement that the words remained unspoken. Yet they hovered on his tongue, for he was that surprised to have such easy victory.
    Too easy?
    The same thought again, niggling at him. He dismissed it impatiently.
    “Good, then all will be as it should.”
    Daria said nothing more but only stood there in thescented chapel, her arms across her thin chest, the hands hidden in her sleeves. Hawk did not see that they were clenched.
    Father Elbert delivered the keys to Krysta. He brought them to her in the kitchens where she had gone with Aelfgyth, little Edythe trailing after them. Her first day back, a feast in the works, she thought it right to be there even as she wondered at Daria's absence. The priest explained it in his fashion.
    “I am instructed to give these to you,” he said and contrived to hand over the keys in such way as to take no risk of touching Krysta, a woman, a suspected pagan for all her claims otherwise, twice unclean.
    He looked torn, relieved of his burden and wanting to be gone yet driven all the same to instruct her from his lofty heights. “The Lady Daria has set a very high standard in the keeping of this manor. I hope you will endeavor to do the same.”
    Privately, Krysta did not think Daria's standards high at all, at least not in the matter of treating people with proper regard. But it would have been ungracious to say so. “I will do my best,” she said, and sighed with relief when he left, scowling as he had come.
    Scarcely was he gone than Aelfgyth could not contain herself. She bounced up and down, grinning hugely. “Oh, my lady, I hardly dare believe it! You're mistress here now and praise God that is so.”
    Mistress
, Krysta thought, and tried to return her friend's bright smile but apprehension tugged at her. Never had she had the running of any place as grand as Hawkforte. By comparison, her lost home in Vestfold was small and simple. How was she to manage with so many hundreds of people looking to her to do what was right, expecting it of her really, and she dreading the thought that she might let her husband down?
    “None of that,” Aelfgyth said sternly, correctlydivining what was going through Krysta's mind. “You'll do splendidly. We'll see to it, won't we, Edythe?”
    “Of course we will,” her little sister agreed. “Besides, there's no reason for you to be worried. Mother says the Lord Hawk is so far gone in love with you that you could serve him brine for supper for a month before he'd notice.”
    “Edythe!” Aelfgyth looked aghast at such candor even as she struggled not to smile. “I'm sorry, my lady. This one has yet to learn how to curb her tongue.”
    “I don't see why I shouldn't say that,” Edythe protested. “Everyone knows it's true. Why, just this morning heard the baker's wife say that if she'd ever seen a man better satisfied than his lordship, he lacked strength to walk. I'm not sure what she meant exactly but—”
    “That is quite enough of that,” Aelfgyth said. She was trying her hardest to look stern but could not avoid a hint of a smile.
    For her part, Krysta's cheeks were very warm, yet she was glad that Hawk's people knew he was happy. In the sum total of all things, that mattered a great deal more than whatever problems she might have assuming her new duties.
    They feasted that night in the hall of the Lord Hawk and spilled out well beyond the hall, down into the town through every lane, in every house, and even to the ships docked in harbor or riding at anchor just beyond. Torches gleamed like a sea of stars reflected in the water and in the tendrils of mist that rose from it with the cooling of the day. Long after the hour when all sensible men and women should have been abed, the revelry continued. Hawkforte resounded with song and laughter, the beat of drums and the high, haunting music of pipes. Dancers swirled in the torchlight, children ran about giddy with excitement until they subsided beneath gently sheltering trees and slept as fairy children do with music in theirdreams. Barrel after barrel of mead and ale was cracked open to hearty cheers. Food there was in abundance, greater even than at the harvest feast. When the full moon rose over