“Oh? And exactly what stage of life are ye currently in?”
“I will be twenty soon.”
“Ah, a wise old woman, to be sure.”
“You may jest, as you seem to enjoy doing, but you should know that I am…headstrong, let us say. You may not find that very appealing.”I hope.
“Aye, well, ye may be disappointed to know that I find yer head to be the most fascinatingly appealing thing I’ve ever encountered. Both inside and out.”
Stopping in the middle of the path, I pause as his words sink in. When I look up at him, the affectionate gaze that greets me releases a thousand butterflies through my tummy and up through my chest. “You mean that?” I ask.
“I do. I canna’ imagine spending the rest of my life wi’ a woman that is soft in the head and needs to be told what to do. A woman that does’na have the will to speak for herself or a sense of humor that ensures laughter in our home. And as for physical beauty, well, I will’na be settling when it comes to that.”
“Hmm, there was a conclusion in that statement, Lord Stewart. It’s awfully early in this game to be so presumptuous, wouldn’t you agree?”
“No.” He offers no other retort.
The finality of it creeps up my spine and blossoms, not into fear or dread, but a hot desire that tingles throughout my body. I breathe through it for a moment, then strategically ask, “What is his name? Your horse, I mean. He is quite spectacular.”
“His name is Magni, and thank you. He is an impressive beast and loyal to the bone.”
“Magni. That is an unusual name. What is its meaning?”
“The Latin meaning is large or great, which is fitting. However, he was named after a pagan god. I read a fascinating book on Norse mythology several years ago. Ye see, we’ve all learned about the terrible Norseman that came down an’ pillaged our lands and did unspeakable things to women and children, but these were a complex, intellectual, and spiritual group of people. I won’t bore ye wi’ all the details, but let us say, it would take a tremendous amount of time to learn about the many gods they believed in. To add to that, each god has a long and complicated fable about how and why he or she existed. Magni is the god of strength and happens to be the son of Thor, the god of thunder. His mother was a giantess, which explained his size and powerful might. He saved his father’s life once and is known to have survived the greatest battle of the gods, Ragnarök.”
I am completely enthralled by his answer to my simple question. It is unexpected and fascinating, and I think about Magni’s mother, a giantess of all things, sitting upon the bench conversing with my imaginary friend while she tends to her child.
“That is a fantastic story. I would like to know more about these gods. Their stories sound quite imaginative. What did you say the name of this great battle was?”
“Ragnarök.” I cannot help but smile as the R’s vibrate and roll off his tongue. “Why the sudden mischief, m’lady?”
“I like that word, especially with your accent,” I answer in truth.
“Oh? Do ye mean ta tell me ye are no longer offended wi’ me speech?” His question is so exaggerated in thick Scottish brogue I could hardly understand him. I try not to laugh, but the exhilaration of this afternoon has me giddy, and it bubbles over with ease.
“No, my lord. I amno offended wi’ yer speech,” I imitate him. Our mingled laughter echoes around us as Willow lifts her head and makes a noise that sounds oddly close to giggling. Lord Stewart and I both throw our heads back as the hilarity of the moment takes hold.
A few minutes pass before he says through winded breaths, “Ah, Lady Ella, ye have a fine sense of humor, but I’m afraid yer brogue needs a bit o’ work.”
“Yes, I would have to agree. It didn’t sound as good as yours.” He finds that admission particularly funny. “Lord Stewart? Would you mind telling me more about these pagan gods as we make our way back to the stables? I’m quite interested to know more about them.”
“Aye, I’d be happy to.” He pauses for a few seconds to gather his thoughts, but something inside me knows his thoughts are not about pagan gods and which story to start with first. Something has shifted between us during this short walk and lively exchange. For whatever reason, I decide not to fight it and find that I rather enjoy being more relaxed around him.
“Ye heard me mention Magni’s father, Thor, the god of thunder. Well, Thor is a mighty figure, fearless and strong. He is a dedicated warrior with unmatched skills and is the son of Odin, the Allfather. Thor wields a giant hammer as his weapon. This hammer has special powers and allows Thor to summon lighting and, therefore, thunder.”
Our pace slowed as we entered the forest, allowing more time for him to regale me with fascinating tales of the heathens we have recently come to know as Vikings. I believe Lord Stewart enjoyed telling the stories as much as I enjoyed hearing them. When he said goodbye, shortly after our return, he promised there is much more to tell and looks forward to our next walk through the forest to pick up where he left off. I was honest when I told him I look forward to it, as well.
“Ella, darling! You have flowers from Lord Stewart. They are unusual but lovely nonetheless,” Mother cheerfully announces.
Entering the sunroom, I stop short as my hand comes up to rest on my chest. My heart feels strange as I see what he put together with his own hands from his garden.A copious array of wildflowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors are densely packed into a large, beautiful crystal vase. I have never seen an arrangement quite like it before. My mother is correct—it is rather lovely.
I pause to wonder how he got such an enormous arrangement here. I am certain he could not have traveled with it on his horse alone, yet I cannot imagine he brought it separately by carriage.
Upon a closer look, I see that he included leaf-filled branches and long blades of grass that seem to anchor this colorful collection of blossoms. I recognize it for what it is: a miniature of my butterfly garden that he knows I love so well. Perfect disarray—he seems to remember everything I say and do, then uses it to create something fantastic and beguiling. Who was the arrogant man I happened upon in the conservatory, who toyed with me and pushed my anger to its limit? He has become a wizard, using his sorcery to change my mind.
A smile spreads across my face as I realize that he has gone to great effort to make this botanical sculpture as real as possible. On the longest stems that reach far beyond the main cluster, right next to three separate purple blooms, he fastened intricately cut paper butterflies. A bubble of happy laughter escapes as I see them move, ever so slightly, in the draft of an open door. Upon closer inspection, I find that their details are not only sophisticated but unique, and I am awed by the precision of each cut.
As I slowly walk around the arrangement, my heart soars with joy and wonderment, I see a slight movement toward the side facing away from me. Quickly, I step around to see what other surprises are hiding within. I cannot stop the joyful smile from spreading across my face as I recognize what he has done… I reach up and touch the whimsical faerie dangling from a fine piece of string.