Less than a month after Midwinter's Day, Howe was harvesting the first spinach leaves from her glassed-in garden. As she'd expected, the cabbages and broccoli were doing well. The remainder of the plants, which all preferred longer days, were growing as well, though Howe didn't expect them to grow very fast until the days were longer and a bit warmer. Just being able to plant them where they got sunlight at all was allowing them to do far better than usual.
Ordinarily, Howe planted her seedlings in wooden flats that were kept indoors until it was warm enough for them to go outside during the day. Only when all danger of frost had passed, did she usually plant them in the ground. As it was, rows of flats were planted at the edge of her garden, waiting to be transplanted in the plot of ground behind Cade and Rowen's cottage, where Rowen thought the garden would grow best and be trampled least.
"My Princess, are you up here?" The hopeful call was preceded by the creak of hinges. Howe smiled, knowing that the king was about to join her on the pretext of learning to garden. Since Rowen was also hard at work, learning to garden with her niece, Howe had absolutely no hope of true privacy with her suitor.
"Come on up," she called over. "I'm about done here though."
"Perfect!" His head appeared from behind the retaining wall, but he didn't walk up onto the dirt. "My Princess, I've found your new name!"
Howe jumped up, nearly spilling the spinaches she'd harvested. "You did? What is it?"
"Come and see," he urged with a voice full of excitement.
"See?" Howe headed toward him, neatly skipping over the rows of seedlings. Rowen followed more carefully. "Are names not usually heard?" She was only partly teasing him.
The king nodded, still grinning. "Yes, but this time, I want you to experience the full depth of meaning behind it when I explain. You'll need your coat; what I wish to share is down the hill a way."
Howe reached him and showed him the apron-full of greens she'd picked. "I just need to get these to Gwyn first." He seemed a bit disappointed by the delay, but Howe grinned at him as she ducked through the doorway. "Which works well, since I left my coat in the Common Hall."
Soon, he was almost towing her along the path, holding her hand and walking at a half-trot in his eager haste. When they'd reached the appointed place, he pointed out where a broken twig had caused the sap of a particular tree to form a small icicle in the freeze-thaw cycle of late winter/early spring weather.
Howe watched him snap the icicle carefully from the damaged twig. He held it up to her lips, allowing the melting sap to drip onto her lips a little. "Taste it," he advised. "This is a maple tree. We catch the sap in buckets and boil it down to make a syrup." Howe licked her lips. The incredible sweetness of the sap was unlike anything she'd ever tasted.
"You are Maple of the Hills," he continued quietly, "in the way of your mother's people, because like the maple, you are strong and tall. You weather the storms of life and bring a sweet savor to all around you." He let her finish eating the icicle, wetted her lips with the sap on the end of his fingers, then bent and kissed her.
Maple had never been kissed like that before, and neither had she when her name had been Howe. Abruptly, he let go and backed away. "My Princess, I'm sorry," he cried hoarsely. "Forgive me, I got carried away." He looked ready to flee.
She realized something in that moment, something very important. It took her a minute to calm her racing heart enough to think, and by the time she'd marshalled her racing thoughts, he was already walking away, no doubt convinced that he'd destroyed all hope of a relationship with her.
"Bryn," she said quietly. He stopped and turned to look at her but didn't return. "Do you remember what you said, when you introduced yourself to me, in the line cabin that first night?" He shook his head a little. "You said you are 'Bryn Ma'ar, Bryn to those who love you.' You are Bryn to me."
He looked as if he was still trying to process what she meant. Maple took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I love you, and I want to be your wife; but I don't want to just be Maple of the Hills." He looked disappointed, so she hurried to explain. "I love it that you chose a name from my mother's people. Aside from my appearance, it is all I have left of her. I want to be Maple of the Highest Hill."
She ignored the small gasp from Rowen and approached her intended. "Kiss me again, Hill-King?" she asked him. The king obeyed and Maple lost herself in his kiss. Bryn Ma'ar, the Highest Hill, would be her husband and she would be his queen.
"My father is swinging his sword in his left hand," he told her around their kiss. "You did that; he walks with almost no limp at all now."
"I belong to a whole people for the first time in my life," she countered. "I have a family that loves me and a husband-to-be that I love. You did that for me." He groaned and held her tighter; his kisses grew in passion. Neither one noticed when Rowen didn't protest or try to stop them, even though Maple knew that their behavior was beyond the bounds of what was considered permissible.
Someone seized Maple by the shoulders and at first, she thought it was Rowen or possibly Cade, until she was thrown backward into the snow. Someone tied a rag around her mouth before a cloth covered her head as her hands and feet were tied by others. Maple could hear the low, anger-filled speech of the valley-dwellers and guessed what had happened.
Somehow, they'd decided to return her to the valley and the snow had melted enough to allow them to do so. Fear for Rowen filled her, then fear for the man she'd grown to love as the low thuds and pain-filled grunts spoke of a beating. Finally, when the thuds weren't answered with grunts of pain, someone ripped the cloth roughly from Maple's face and hauled her to her feet.
She glanced around frantically. Rowen lay nearby, bound and gagged, eyes closed. Maple wondered if her aunt were unconscious or merely playing dead. If Rowen were truly unconscious, she could freeze to death before anyone found her.
Bryn lay unmoving in a patch of crimson-stained snow. Maple tried to scream through her gag and began to sob when she realized that Bryn didn't appear to be breathing. Tears streamed down her face and she did her best to struggle despite her bonds, desperate to reach the man whose name she'd taken. Bryn Ma'ar, the Highest Hill, lay broken and unmoving in the snow, far from his fortress.
The Valley-dwellers traveled with their captive all that day and through the night, stopping only to light torches when the sun went down. Bound hand-and-foot and carried over someone's shoulder, Maple could do nothing more than endure the journey. Captive not only of those who bore her away from home, she was also a prisoner of her own thoughts.
Carried away from all she held dear, it was a bitter realization that Maple had never told Rowen and Cade how she felt about them. They had become her parents, and their children her brothers and sisters.
Caron, pregnant with her first child, was the all-knowing older sister; Bowen, her older brother. Twins Olwyn and Bronwyn were the next-youngest after her, followed by the three youngest boys; Baez, Cary, and little Cerdic, who'd poured water over his father's feet to 'cool his heels'. Even Wynd had a place in the family, having become a beloved uncle.
Bitter indeed to Maple was the knowledge that she was being returned to a life of drudgery and solitude after this glorious taste of kith and kin. It was nearly noon the following day before they finally reached the village in their valley. In the center of the town square, Maple was dropped roughly in front of the village elders. Someone removed her gag but didn't offer to untie her. With her hands and feet numb from the tight bonds, Maple knew that she wouldn't have been able to run or fight if they had released her. "Gardener Howe, we have rescued you from the hills. You may return to your home and garden the plot that is assigned to you," proclaimed the high elder, making it seem as if they'd done her a favor.
"I am not who you think," Maple replied in her own tongue, since she knew the high elder understood it. "I am Maple of the Highest Hill, Bride of the Hill-King. You must allow me to return at once. My family will be worried about me."
The high elder frowned but when he answered, it was in the tongue of the hill-folk, telling Maple that he wasn't entirely sure about the strength of his position. "You are Gardener Howe, orphaned daughter of Gardener Hays and Gardener Brooke. There is only your village to worry after you."
"No, but you are mistaken," Maple insisted, "I am Maple of the Highest Hill, adopted daughter of Cade and Rowen Broderick, and betrothed of Bryn Ma'ar. The dowry has been set, the alliance made. My family will come for me, if my betrothed does not come first, for I am counted a warrior and sit as elder among my people."
That made the high elder laugh. "From what I understand, your betrothed is dead, either way. You will remain with us, in the Gardener cabin." He raised his voice, addressing the assembled villagers. "The wicked Hill people have poisoned her mind. She has been brainwashed into thinking she is other than who she is. Let us see if she changes her mind after she's been in familiar surroundings for a while."
"High Elder," another of the elders spoke up from nearby in tones meant only for the council of elders, "if we merely return her to her cabin, she'll only leave as soon as everyone is in for the night."
The high elder stroked his beard thoughtfully until his expression lightened. "We must keep the poor, addled child from going back. Tie her to the post in the town square overnight, until we can secure her cabin."
Unceremoniously, Maple was dragged to the lamppost in the center of the town square and tied there with a short length of rope that connected her bound hands to the post. Tied as it was, Maple had enough rope to stand and to sit, but not to take more than a single step from the post- at least if her feet had been unbound. If she wanted to lay flat, she'd have to lay on her face and even then, the rope would tug on her arms just a bit and prevent her from sleeping unless she was exhausted past the point of noticing the discomfort.
Once she was secure, the villagers drifted away to their appointed tasks. As soon as she was left alone, Maple raised her voice and called out as loudly as she could. "Bryn! Bryn Ma'ar, I'm here! Come for me." She would have called out further, but harsh sobs made her speech garbled and choked her voice.
The villagers ignored her. No one thought to bring food or water. Howe found herself grateful that the valley was so much warmer than in the hills; she'd have frozen to death overnight, otherwise.