Eadric nodded weakly to her offer of turning the thief over to the proper authorities once he had been caught. Which of course meant Eadric himself – and the soldier was glad to have her people’s help on the matter.<br/><br/><br/><br/>The young man then listened intently as Morveya went on to explain a little about her people's ways and how she was not planning to marry except for love. That concept was fascinating to Eadric whose native Saxon culture was a bit more old fashioned. In his tradition the wife was responsible for everything within the doors of the family home while the men were responsible for everything outside. Even with that modest amount of authority, though, most women were married off based on the political or financial needs of the families involved and not her personal preference. After all a dowry was in essence a bounty paid to the groom’s family in exchange for their daughter’s hand.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Eadric saw many of the unions of his people grow into relationships of familial love over time, while unfortunately many more did not. Often one party would turn away from their spouse to seek that sense of true belonging that she was describing in the arms of another. This idea of marrying by choice for love was new to Eadric – it was an idea both novel and intriguing. Who was this woman with these odd notions? Would a marriage truly work if based only on one’s feelings? Don’t feelings change over time – sometimes many times in a day? And why did she sound so defensive about it?<br/><br/><br/><br/>When she asked if he was married he smiled again weakly.<br/><br/><br/><br/>“Alas, I was born a peasant and raised to a minor office in my land. This great honor means that I live on a knife’s edge between poverty and plenty. It also means that if I am to become more than I am today, I must marry a woman of means. Sadly no fathers of such women have taken interest in me. So, unfortunately, I am left somewhat alone in my journey,” he said, blinking a few times with down-turned expression as he told the tale of a lonely existence. His words were accurate but he was perhaps not exactly as lonely as he might want her to believe. Healer or no – Celt or no – she was a beautiful woman. He couldn’t help himself from flirting, even if he was unable to lift his head off the pillow.<br/><br/><br/><br/>When she asked about  him writing a message he seemed to become tired.<span style="font-style: italic">That will be difficult to do, since I cannot read or write</span>, he thought to himself. In his culture only a few were literate, and few if any peasants or soldiers. He blushed as he thought about how to explain that. Instead he feigned the need to rest.<br/><br/><br/><br/>“My lady… I suddenly feel beyond tired. May we speak later?”<br/><br/><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: gray;background:gray;"/></div><br/><br/><br/><br/>In the days that followed Eadric did his best to be pleasant and charming to the woman who was nursing him back to health. Each time she brought him a quill, though, he refused to write - not wanting to trouble anyone with the travel required to deliver the message, he said. Eventually the time came for him to walk outside, and he jumped at the chance. With a crutch of yew wood under one arm he followed her as best he could outside the small hut into the gleaming sunlight.<br/><br/><br/><br/>“Your village is… it is truly beautiful,” he commented truthfully.<br/><br/>"Are you always this kind to strangers?" He asked with a warm smile.