The Soul Mate

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Hungary, 1078 A.C.E

Treime hated her husband’s mamă. She was going to kill the woman if she clicked her tongue at her one more time. Living with the Baró and his wife was a punishment worse than death, she’d decided.

This baby could not come soon enough, she thought, rubbing her belly. Feeling a small kick in response, she grinned. Her baby apparently agreed. No one liked Violca and really, who could blame them?

Treime couldn’t do anything right, according to that woman. She couldn’t peel vegetables correctly, she couldn’t mend Emilian’s tunics’ or hose correctly and she couldn’t even grow her own child correctly!

“You’re too skinny for a woman with child!” Violca would scold. “You must eat more, rest more!”

And the absolute worst, “Relations between a man and woman is not good for the babe inside you,” Violca would tell her. “And don’t try to deny it! I can hear the two of you! Daily!”

How Treime would have loved to have told her that it was her son that had the insatiable appetite. That he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, big round belly or not, but she knew it would only further upset the infuriating woman.

Complaining to Emilian was out of the question. He was busy building their own wagon and gathering the supplies they would need to sustain themselves in their new home once the baby was born.

Treime couldn’t bring herself to bother him with her trivial nonsense, so she kept quiet, played the dutiful wife, satisfying Emilian’s hunger for her and working hard to keep from killing his mamă.

But this morning Treime needed some time alone. Grabbing some raw carrots, she headed outside hoping to remain unseen until she could slip into the woods and head toward the warm springs. She nearly ran into Violca but managed to scurry quickly behind the neighbors horses, only to almost let loose her breakfast at the fresh horse dung she’d stepped in.

Waiting for a few pounding heartbeats before peaking out behind the twitching tails, Treime glanced around. Nothing. But knowing Violca, Treime didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

Feeling like the only way to break loose was to make a run for it, Treime took a large breath, stepped out from behind the horses and ran directly into the giant belly of the clan blacksmith, Yanoro.

“Treime! Where are you off to girl?”

“I need to go for a walk!” She hissed. “Alone!”

Yanoro laughed. The sound echoed across camp, making the horses whinny nervously. Yanora might be loud and imposing but he was sweeter than honey.

He patted Treime’s belly. “You take care of that babe Treime. I’ll take care of that woman for a minute or two so you can have some peace.”

Giving the blacksmith a grateful smile, she took off running.

“Violca!” She heard him yell. “I need some onions! For a… onion emergency!”

“Who lit a fire in your pants Yanny?” Violca yelled back.

Treime giggled.

Finding a nice spot by the springs where the flowers grew colorful and in plenty, she immediately pulled of her diklo and happily stretched out under the sun. It wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep, lulled by the small waterfall nearby.

She awoke later to soft kisses on her cheeks, nose and forehead. Giggling, she pushed Emilian off of her.

“You have ladybugs all over you, love.” He picked up one of tiny red and black bugs before it could fly away.

“Its good luck you know,” She told, smiling. “What are you doing out here?”

“Walther and I are going hunting without the rest of the men.” He gestured to his little brother who was standing near the water and lowered his voice. “They tease him because he doesn’t like to harm the animals.”

Treime’s heart swelled at the sweet admission and she smiled. “An admirable trait.”

Emilian grunted. “I’ll back tonight wife.”

Then, once more, he kissed both her cheeks, lingered on her lips and lastly placed several more on her swollen belly.

Walther made a face at them.

Emilian helped Treime get to her feet and she tugged on Walther’s dark hair, thinking how similar to Emilian he looked. He wore his hair long like his brother and his eyes were the same dark brown. He would break hearts too, Treime thought, already sad for the girls who wouldn’t get to keep the beautiful boy.

“Someday Walther you will be in love and you will understand,” She told him.

“Never”, He swore it with such ferocity that both Emilian and Treime burst out laughing and Walther’s scowl grew.

Treime watched them leave, feeling happy and lighthearted. She dallied near the springs, picking wildflowers and soaking her feet. On her way back to camp she heard a strange noise, something that sounded like drums, far off in the distance.

The closer she came to camp, the more recognizable the sound became, and it hadn’t been drums at all, but horses. Horse hooves, beating down upon the earth at a fast and furious pace. They sounded close.

Treime felt her stomach summersault. She knew who was coming.

The Gaje Man.