Page 33 of The Evening and the Morning

“I could make a suggestion.”

“Go on.”

“Merchants here in Cherbourg sell goods to Combe, especially barrels of cider, wheels of cheese, and fine linen cloth.”

He nodded. “Often of high quality.”

“But we’re constantly obstructed by the authorities at Combe.”

He frowned in annoyance. “I am the authority at Combe.”

Ragna pressed on. “But your officials seem to be able to do anything they like. There are always delays. Men demand bribes. And there’s no knowing how much duty will be charged. In consequence, merchants avoid sending goods to Combe if they can.”

“Duty must be charged. I’m entitled to it.”

“But it should be the same every time. And there should be no delays and no bribes.”

“That would create difficulties.”

“More than a Viking raid?”

“Good point.” Wilwulf looked thoughtful. “Are you telling me that this is what your father wants?”

“No. I haven’t asked him, and I’m not representing him. He’ll speak for himself. I’m just offering you advice based on my close knowledge of him.”

The hunters were getting ready to depart. Count Hubert called: “We’ll go back past the quarry—there are sure to be more boar around there.”

Wilwulf said to Ragna: “I’ll think about this.”

They mounted and headed off. Wilwulf rode next to Ragna, not speaking, lost in thought. She was pleased with the conversation. She had got him interested at last.

The weather warmed up. The horses went faster, knowing they were on the way home. Ragna was beginning to think the hunt was over when she saw a patch of churned-up ground where the boar had been digging for roots and moles, both of which they liked to eat. Sure enough, the dogs picked up the scent.

They charged off again, horses following the dogs, and soon Ragna spotted the prey: a group of males this time, three or perhaps four. They ran through a copse of oak and beech and then divided, three heading along a narrow path and the fourth crashing through a thicket. The hunt followed the three, but Wilwulf went after the fourth, and Ragna did the same.

It was a mature beast with long canine teeth curving out of itsmouth, and despite its peril, it cannily uttered no sound. Wilwulf and Ragna rode around the thicket and sighted the boar ahead. Wilwulf jumped his horse over a large fallen tree. Ragna, determined not to be left behind, went after him, and Astrid made the jump, just.

The boar was strong. The horses kept pace but could not close with it. Every time Ragna thought she or Wilwulf was almost near enough to strike, the beast would suddenly change direction.

Ragna was vaguely aware that she could no longer hear the rest of the hunt.

The boar crashed into a clearing with no cover, and the horses put on a burst of speed. Wilwulf came up on the beast’s left, Ragna on its right.

Wilwulf drew level and stabbed. The boar dodged at the last moment. The blade of the spear entered its hump, wounding it but not slowing it down. It swerved and charged directly at Ragna. She leaned left and jerked at the reins, and Astrid turned toward the boar, sure-footed despite her speed. Ragna rode straight at the boar with her spear pointing down. The beast tried to dodge again, but too late, and Ragna’s weapon went straight into its open mouth. She gripped the handle tightly, pushing until the resistance threatened to dislodge her from her saddle; then she let go. Wilwulf wheeled his horse and struck again, penetrating the boar’s thick neck, and it fell.

They dismounted, flushed and panting. Ragna said: “Well done!”

“Well done to you!” said Wilwulf, and then he kissed her.

The kiss began as an exuberant congratulatory peck on the lips, but quickly changed. Ragna sensed his sudden desire. She felt his mustache as his mouth moved hungrily on her lips. She was more than willing, and opened her mouth eagerly to his tongue. Then they both heard the hunt coming toward them, and they broke apart.

A moment later they were surrounded by the other hunters. They had to explain how the kill had been a joint effort. The boar was the biggest of the day, and they were congratulated again and again.

Ragna felt dazed by the excitement of the kill, and even more by the kiss. She was glad when everyone mounted and headed home. She rode a little apart from the rest so that she could think. What did Wilwulf mean by the kiss, if anything?

Ragna did not know much about men, but she realized that they were happy to grab a random kiss with a beautiful woman more or less any time. They were also capable of forgetting it quite soon. She had sensed his quickening interest in her, but perhaps he had enjoyed her the way he might have enjoyed a plum, thinking no more about it afterward. And how did she feel about the kiss? Although it had not lasted long, it had shaken her. She had kissed boys before, but not often, and it had never been like that.

She remembered bathing in the sea as a child. She had always loved the water, and was now a strong swimmer, but once when little she had been bowled over by a huge breaking wave. She had squealed, then found her feet, and finally rushed right back into the surf. Now she remembered that feeling of being completely helpless to resist something both delightful and a little bit frightening.