THIRTY-EIGHT
Midsummer's Day dawned, and it was glorious. King Siward held his bride in his arms, and though Rosamond's eyes were closed, they fluttered as if she was about to wake. Then she did, and her green eyes outshone the sun.
"Are you healed?" he asked softly.
She laughed. "Yes, and so are you. However did you get all those bruises?"
Siward thought hard. "I was attacked by a tree."
Amusement sparkled in her eyes. "You mean you weren't watching where you were going, and bumped into a tree?"
"Not this time. It whipped out a branch, grabbed me from the saddle, and threw me into the river. Then it screamed about how it had to bring me back. To you."
"A tree screamed? You must have hit your head."
Siward shook his head, which didn't hurt at all. "No. And not one tree. The whole
