The Courting of Bryn - Ch 3
Bryn and Maeve walked up the hill, away from the harbour together. Like any harbour it was filled with men who stank and had filthy mouths and even ickier intensions. The market was close by and they'd decided to peruse it.
"So what are you going to get the old bear?" Maeve asked her friend.
"He's not old!" Bryn protested and shook her head when she noticed Maeve's grin and knew she'd been goaded into just that reaction. "I don't know, a new turban perhaps? The one he has is so faded, something blue I think, to bring out his eyes."
"He gives you a romantic bath and you give him a turban? Doesn't seem an equal trade," Maeve scoffed.
"It isn't, it's not supposed to be. He is wooing me, I am showing him I appreciate it, that's all," Bryn said.
The entered the market, it was a big one: full of stalls exhibiting the most common and uncommon wares and people of all ilk milling about them trying to find the best bargains as well as tonight's dinner. A lyre-player started up a tune just behind them.
Bryn took it all in, the sights, the sweet sounds of the lyre mingling with the other market sounds, the hundred different smells that wafted about. This was a place full of life!
"I don't know where to start," Bryn admitted, her eyes shining as her body automatically adjusted to the powerful vibrancy of the crowd.
"Let's go in a circle all around, then we'll take a breather at the fountain in the centre," Maeve suggested.
Bryn agreed to her suggestion and stopped to look at a few stalls, but Maeve seemed to have ants in her pants because she just couldn't stand still for more than five seconds.
"We're being followed," Maeve eventually said, when Bryn called her out on it.
"What? By who?" Bryn asked, because it sounded more than a little ridiculous in a crowd of this size.
"The lyre-player, he's never more than ten feet away," Maeve said, eyeing him warily.
"Well, maybe he likes the look of you. Come on, I really want to find a gift for Doubar," Bryn tugged at Maeve's arm.
"It's not me he's constantly looking at," Maeve said. "Maybe you've got another admirer."
"Don't be ridiculous," Bryn said, but did send an inconspicuous glance over to the musician.
"I'm telling you, when it rains it pours," Maeve said.
"He's coming over!" Bryn hissed, a little panicked because she didn't know what to do.
"Good morning lovely ladies," the swarthy lyre-player said. "A man who is very impressed with your beauty has asked me to entertain you with music on your morning stroll and to give you this." Out of nowhere the man produced a white rose and handed it to Bryn. He then bowed, took a step back and started playing again.
Bryn stood rooted to the spot. Getting swept off her feet in private was one thing, for it to happen so publicly…
"Well that explains that," Maeve said, trying to sound like this was business as usual but noticeably moved.
"What do I do?" Bryn asked, because her brain refused to supply an answer.
"You enjoy it, of course," Maeve hooked an arm through Bryn's to support her friend and continued their circuit of the market.
"Excuse me dear. A fine young man asked me to give you this," and old woman stopped them and handed Bryn a yellow rose before moving on again.
Bryn took it and looked at Maeve for help once more, she just shrugged and grinned.
A mother with an infant on her hip found them at a stall selling jewellery. "You are so lucky!" she gushed and handed Bryn a deep pink rose. The infant clutched a pale pink rose in his chubby fist and would only let go when his mother distracted him with a biscuit.
"I am very lucky," Bryn nodded. "Though not as lucky as you," she said, cooing over the baby.
"You'll have many of these in the not too distant future," the woman winked at her and moved on again.
In quick succession Bryn got even more roses in all different colours. There was a dirty little street-child, a market-vendor, a whole gaggle of giggling teenage girls. There were mothers and fathers, business men and beggars, hasty shoppers and endless talkers. There seemed to be no end to the roses.
Maeve was acting like a lady-in-waiting and carrying most of the actual blooms while Bryn busied herself with accepting them when they finally completed the circuit of the market. There the rose-givers dropped off and they could finally make their way to the fountain to get their well-deserved break.
And there the crew stood, in a single line all with a rose in their hands. One by one they pressed the blooms into her hands and gave her a kiss on the cheek before standing aside until only Doubar was left, holding the only red rose.
Bryn turned to Maeve and gave her all the remaining flowers in her hands before going up to Doubar.
"You've given me a magical day," Bryn said, unsure why there were tears in her eyes.
"I wanted you to see how special you are," Doubar said, his voice gruff in a way that sent tingles down her spine.
Bryn could think of nothing to say to that so she pressed her lips to his in a gentle, chaste kiss before ducking her head and blushing furiously. Unable to believe she had just done that in front of the entire crew and all those watching eyes of the market-goers.
Doubar slung a casual arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side, sensitive to her embarrassment because he'd been manfully suppressing his own this whole time. "Want to go for a walk? Get some air?"
Bryn nodded, clutching her red rose close, happy to find him so sensitive to her needs. As they walked away they heard Sinbad and Maeve quibbling:
"Are you crying?" Sinbad asked, obviously surprised.
"What? That was romantic! I'm a girl, of course I'm crying!" Maeve angrily responded.
"You're not that girly," Sinbad pointed out.
"I'm plenty girly! You're just a blockhead who can't recognise a real woman when she's standing right in front of you!" Maeve said.
"What? That's just-" Sinbad spluttered. "Here just give me some of those roses, you look stupid carrying them all around."
"No Sinbad don't-"
"Ouch!"
"They have thorns! And you have no sleeves!"
"Like your sleeves are so thick!"
"I took precautions this morning,"
"This morning? But this was a surprise!"
"How do you think Bryn got to the market? How did she know exactly what route to take? How did she know to end up here?"
The argument likely lasted a while longer, but Bryn and Doubar were thankfully well out of earshot by then.