Her broken wrist healed, Torm asked Gwilan to marry him.

Gwilan brought to the mariage a gold piece, which had been the prize last year at Four Valley’s music day; she had it sewn to her bodice as a brooch, because where on earth could you spend a gold piece. She also had two silver pieces, five coppers, and a good winter cloak. Torm contributed house and household, fields and forests, four tenant farmers even poorer than himself, twenty hens, five cows, and forty sheep.

They married in the old way, by themselves, over the spring where the stream began, and came back and told the household. Torm had never suggested a wedding, with singing and harp-playing, never a word of all that. He was a man you could trust, Torm was.

—

Next time:  “A Good House”