Spring, Lyle
The scent
of salt was strong today, Carver noted to himself as he went about his work. He
had only lived on the island of Lyle for a short time, yet the place already
felt like home to him. Maybe it was because he never really had a home, growing
up as a second son – unwanted by his successful father. His mother had always
been kind to him though, and it was after she gave her blessing that he had the
courage to journey out to sea. He had been one of the first to be recruited to
settle the island, as the Brotherhood had named a king to rule. Since they’d
arrived though, many workers had fallen ill and some had even died. Carver had
found himself with a larger workload than anticipated, and more responsibility.
Somehow, he had pulled through it strong, and had been given recognition for
his efforts.
He had even
been asked to meet the king, which frightened him greatly. His wife Mairi did
not share his fears, in fact she had urged him to go ahead and even ask the
king for greater reward for his work. She had always been more spirited than he
was. She had arrived some time after he had, as were the rules for the first
settlers of Lyle. Women were only allowed on the first boats if they possessed
some kind of skill that would aid the cultivation of the land. Mairi was a cook
and a seamstress, she could not bend metal or carve out stone. She had however,
decided she would be the first to give birth on the island. And since not many
of the workers had brought their families over yet – it seemed she would
achieve her goal.
Carver was
petrified of being a father. Mainly he feared the infant dying at his hand –
his huge, dangerously clumsy hands. From what he’d seen, babies were fretfully
fragile things. Despite his fears, he’d always hoped to have many children,
although he had yet to discuss his desire with Mairi. She would be a wonderful
mother, he knew, with her strong will and maternal passion.
There was a
brisk knock at the door, “Working on your day off even?”
Erick
Ingvar stepped through the open doorway, his tall yet slender frame casting a
slim shadow over Carver’s papers. Carver smiled a little, although Erick was a
nobleman and Carver was commonfolk, the two had become fast friends during
their time in Lyle.
“You want
this village done within the year, don’t you?” Carver responded sarcastically.
“Done
enough to live in yes,” Erick said with a wink. He walked over to Carver’s work
desk, “The king has arrived and is happy staying in a tent for the time being,
but I daresay his future wife won’t be so adaptable.”
Erick’s
gaze was fast and deliberate, as if he was clueing puzzle pieces together as he
observed his surroundings. His blonde hair and pale skin gave him away as
hailing from the matriarchal kingdom of Maela, although his accent was
lightened by years of travel.
“The main
quarters will be finished soon, I assure you.” Carver said, “I understand that
the other ships are arriving now too? Carrying all the women and children?”
Erick
nodded, “Hopefully the men won’t be spending so much gold on the whores rather
than getting the work done.”
“Well
then…” Carver turned to stand up, “Does the king still wish to see me?”
“Yes, he’s
very interested in meeting you – He’s already gone to the village site and seen
the construction in action.”
Carver felt
his cheeks heat and he smiled a little, he was nervous to know what the king
thought of his work. As if she sensed his uneasiness, Mairi appeared from the
other room. She stood a length shorter than either of the men, and her brown
hair was left in curls and resting on her shoulders. To Carver, the protrusion
of her pregnant belly made her appear even smaller and more breakable.
“Is that a
Maelan I hear?” She joked, “Get him out of here Carver, before he starts planting
flowers all over the place.”
Erick and
Carver laughed heartily, it was a common stereotype that all Maelans loved
flowers – due to the abundance of greenery in Maela.
“Ah, Mairi”
Erick said with a sigh. “When are you going to leave this old klutz and run
away with me?”
“I won’t be
running anywhere until this thing gets out of me,” Mairi groaned.
Erick
laughed again, “Don’t talk too soon; I hear newborns can be a handful.”
Carver
nodded in agreement, his fear of breaking the poor baby was secretly debilitating.
If he had his way, the child would be born and grown without his interference,
or at least without him having to hold the infant.
