Merit — Lily Dewaruile

Fleeing the Saxon invaders, Jac travelled westward. His mother had been killed at dawn the day a Celt woman ran into the woods and hid in the underbrush. As the Saxons drew closer to the village he had hoped to reach before nightfall, Jac kept his vigil over the injured woman. Alone, old enough to begin training, the Saxon invasion had dashed his hopes of finding employment. Hours passed. The chill of the night tore at his flimsy rags. His mother's body lay miles behind him, buried beneath his cloak, forest soil, and brush with no grave marker save the cross he had fashioned from twigs and vines.The woman's rescue and Jac's salvation rode a dark-spirited warhorse. Once a fugitive, now a warrior trained by the most skilled and feared man on the battlefields of his new home, Jac seeks to gain merit enough in the eyes of Christophe Maides to ask for the hand of the girl Jac has loved from the day his mentor dragged him from the underbrush. Winning a contest for the command of an army of warriors may bestow that merit.* * *Manon! Wake up. You are lazier every moment. Have you forgotten you have chores in the morning? You expect someone to do them for you, while you dream of Euros?I was not dreaming, the girl replied, roughly dragging her fingers through the tangles of unruly curls. I was waiting to see how long you would take to wake me, Seren, since you have been eager to go to the contest all these hours.Ych, the contests! Why should I care? Euros will win. I don't know why the contests were even called....Still young enough to dream of a life better than her sisters whose husbands did little even when they were not drunk on ale, Manon determined her husband would command Caradog's army and father sons enough to command war bands to defend every cantref throughout the whole length of Bae Ceredigion. Euros Llynuwch had won every contest. He was Caradog's choice and he was her desperate hope for husband.Though she had other work, once Manon finished in the golchdy, she bathed, washed her own clothes and dressed in her only change of equally warn shift and tunic. Fortunate to have even that though it had been worn nearly to rags by one or another of her five older sisters. She let her hair dry loose, tangled even more from washing, and dashed through the crowds to witness the final qualifying contests before Euros met the best of the challengers. ...