The sun had almost reached its midday zenith when Nielsine finally stabled Angsar. She trudged in her well-worn riding boots into the reception hall of her family's home. They had made their wealth as affluent merchants, trading leather goods via ship, voyaging across the Nocturnal Sea to Darkon in the north. She could see that very sea as she ascended the stone steps, peering out of the window at the view the pane afforded. In moments, she had reached her room. Off came her riding-boots, her jodhpurs and shirt. On went a simple gown, the simplest she could find. She swiftly took a brush to her hair, and so attired and prepared, she resigned herself at last to finding her parents. They were taking lunch together; it was a rich spread that greeted Nielsine when she arrived. She sat down, saying nothing, but took a breath in preparation. A matronly voice soon sounded.
"Nielsine, we missed you at breakfast."
"I was not hungry, moder, so I did not come." At the other end of the table, her father rose. He approached Nielsine with firm steps, his boots striking the wooden floor like a judge's gavel. He lifted his daughter's chin, wearing a heavy frown. Soon, she felt his hand fall sharp across her face, soon followed by the painful, stinging hum of beaten flesh. He returned to his seat, followed by his daughter's scowl.
"There are scratches on her face, and stalks of havgraes in her hair. You are ever the disobedient child, Nielsine. We have told you not to go out riding on the Pommel alone. All this business needs to stop. No riding alone, and no fraternising with the townsfolk. You are above them."
"I will do as I please, julemand. We are not the same as the painted warlocks after all. We do not keep slaves." Nielsine's father scoffed.
"You are not a slave, Nielsine. You are my daughter, and you will obey me." He paused, eyeing her coldly. "Your insolence will not go unpunished. If you choose to be as ill-tempered as the Vindhåre you so love, then I am left no choice but to tame you. Angsar will be put down, and your riding gear will be burnt." Nielsine's eyes widened.
"No, julemand! No! I will not allow it!" Nielsine slammed her hands on the table, over and over, leaving more and more destruction in her wake. Goblets tumbled and china rattled.
"Nielsine!" He thundered, "That is enough! It is clear that your angry passions must be tempered. You will be tamed, and with this in mind, I will be writing to Viggo. You require a husband to subdue you." Nielsine screamed, snatching up the glass goblets and throwing them against the wooden floor. Her mother hid her face behind her hands as she wept. As the glass smashed, her father's voice came louder. "Pin her down! I will return with the whip." Although she put up a fight, eventually, she was held down by her mother, two manservants and the housekeeper. She continued to howl against the wooden floor. Moments later, there came thundering steps, and then, the crack of the whip.
♞
As Nielsine ached, sprawled across her bed, she came to a decision. She had bucked against tradition for the last time; now was the time to bolt. Wincing, she donned her riding garb again, pulled on her boots and took up her rapier. She strapped a crossbow across her back, then hurried to the kitchens. She grabbed whatever food she could fit into her leather satchel. Sprinting now, she made for the stables. With all her practice, saddling Angsar did not take long. Across the way, the stable-boy turned the corner, then gave a loud whistle as he espied Nielsine. Boldly, she kicked Angsar firmly (but not cruelly, for there is a difference) into a gallop, thundering across the cobbles and through the gates. Traces of her reading echoed in her mind.
She wended east.
Several days passed before her passage was found; night blanketed the region as she and Angsar reached the Hazlani border. Mist swirled before them, the entrance to the Skyggeskøv forest foreboding in the extreme. Angsar's ears flattened against his head-- the proud gelding eyed the woodland with keen fear. With tears in her eyes, Nielsine dismounted. She approached Angsar's face with the tenderness she reserved for her dearest companion. She gently ran her gloved hand over his neck in an attempt to calm him, and while the boisterous boy was peaceable enough compared to his wild fellows, she could see in his bottomless, black eyes that his fear would not abate. Sighing heavily, she whispered to Angsar.
"That woodland to you... it is like the future my parents set out for me. It is dark and unknown, and you feel hemmed in. Trapped. It would be unfair to subject you to the same life I am fleeing, Angsar. My friend, find your fellows. Go and roam the Tørdenmark for the rest of your days. Be free." She removed his saddle, shoes, and bridle. She kissed Angsar's muzzle, then struck him across his rear. She watched him run, unchained, as the wild Windhåre does, and she wept.
Finally collecting herself, the sound of hooves on the plain long gone, she turned to face the Skyggeskøv. Taking a deep breath, and murmuring a prayer to the Lawgiver, Nielsine stepped forth into the misty forest.
Nielsine stepped forth into freedom.
