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“Lothar?” Dara drawled when she entered the hut.
“Valkyrie,” Lothar said and turned toward the door, “this is Abbott Sean, the local knee-bender.”
“Valkyrie?” Sean questioned.
“My name is Dara,” she said and glared at the round man in brown robes sitting at her table. “I know who you are.”
“And I know you, too, Priestess.”
“Good,” Lothar intervened. “I invited the knee-bender here to dine with us tonight.”
“On what?” Dara asked.
“Trout,” he stated. “This time I’m cooking it, with the help of the knee-bender.”
Dara sneered at Lothar as he placed the fish into hot oil.
“Lothar, I believe you’ve upset her over something you said.”
Dara looked between the two men and said nothing, but noticed that Lothar’s beard was gone. “I like seeing your face again,” she remarked.
“I asked him why he had not cut his beard as the others do,” Sean began. “To my surprise, he took his knife and shaved himself. I was quite impressed.”
“I stopped shaving when the colder weather set in,” Lothar explained.
“The King wants his people to be clean of face all year round. So, remember more often.”
“Dara told me of this custom, and I didn’t believe her.”
“Just keep your face shaved,” advised Sean.
Lothar glanced at Dara, watching her eyebrow lift and her lips draw up into a smirk.
“Where are you from, Lothar?” Sean continued. “Your dialect is different from others around here.”
Lothar stiffened.
“North of here,” he said. “I want you to tell me more about your way of fishing.”
Dara noted that Lothar changed the subject.
“I always caught them with a hook.”
“I find it hard to believe the fish willingly bite it,” Lothar continued as he turned the fish in the oil.
“It’s the bait and the Lord’s good grace.”
“How exciting.” Dara yawned, rolling her eyes.
Lothar stabbed the fish with the knife, removed the battered trout from the hot oil, and placed them on a platter.
“We usually eat bread, cheese, and fresh vegetables from the garden with the fish at our evening meal. Brother Michael goes fishing daily, and shares the catch with everyone, including Simon.”
“Who’s Simon?” Dara asked.
“Simon is my cat.”
“A knee-bender with a furry friend,” Lothar commented.
“Lothar, please refrain from calling me knee-bender. Sean would be better if you do not want to call me Abbott, or Brother Sean.” He slumped on a stool.
“Why do you call him knee-bender?” Dara settled on the other stool.
Lothar just gazed at her and raised an eyebrow. Dara shook her head and loudly sighed. She thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers.
“Knee-bender is an appropriate name for what you do. I’ve seen the monks kneeling.” She glanced at Lothar, who gave a slight nod of approval as he settled on the edge of the pallet.
“We kneel as part of our prayers, to humble ourselves before God, to ask forgiveness for our sins and those of others,” Sean stated.
Dara smiled when Lothar winked at her.
Another new way to pray that Dara had not tried, she thought. Lothar’s way was to stand before the Gods and let destiny take its course. The Christian way was to ask for forgiveness, for mercy for wrongdoing, and blessing from the Christian God. Both ways differed from her practice in the stone circle.
She watched as Sean bowed his head, crossed himself, and clasped his hands together.
“May the Lord truly bless us and our friends both old and new, Amen.”
Dara glared at Sean, then at Lothar, who coughed loudly after the Christian prayer had been said.
“Let’s eat,” Lothar said. Dara waited as Lothar passed the platter of trout. She placed the smallest piece on her plate.
Reluctantly, she took a bite of the fish. She was pleasantly surprised at the unfamiliar taste of the batter on the trout.
* * *
“BEST FISH I’VE HAD in a long time,” Lothar professed while he rubbed his full stomach. He smiled when he glanced over at Dara, who glared at him once again.
“Brother Michael goes out fishing in the early morning after prayers. Would you like to have him show you how to use the hook so you have more meat on the fish next time?” Sean asked and rose off the stool.
“The attack is part of the thrill,” Lothar admitted. He got up quickly, following the knee-bender to the door, and opened it.
“Where did you say you were from again?” Sean asked.
“North.” Lothar strode outside.
Sean quickly followed behind. “When were you two married?”
“We are not married.”
“Hand-fasted, then?”
“No.”
“A good Christian man would marry her, and make living with her proper.”
“I am not Christian.”
“Well, marry her proper anyway.”
Lothar stopped suddenly, watching the smaller man grin as he strode calmly past him, then up the path before he turned at the fork.
“Knee-benders,” Lothar groaned and shook his head. “Odin, help me.”
