Si'Wren watched Master Rababull as he marched to and fro in the wide
courtyard, ordering men about and personally seeing to every detail.
The magnificent curls of his long locks swayed rhythmically across his
powerful back and shoulders, while his coarse dangling beard stood out
more stiffly.
Master Rababull was older by far than what might have been Si'Wren's
personal preference, but he was nevertheless a powerful and wealthy
man. She secretly hoped that another, younger man might choose her one
day soon. Many men already had their eyes on her; this she could not
help but notice. She had dreams of a large family with many children
and in-laws, but not, hopefully, as just the umpteenth wife of some fat
old curser.
Master Rababull, Si'Wren knew, already had many wives, and she was wise
enough in spite of her youth to realize that it would be no fun
spending the remainder of one's life in direct competition with an army
of female rivals for so much as the merest bit of time now and then
with one's own husband.
Si'Wren watched Master Rababull turn to make his way across the wide
courtyard yet again in long hurried strides. Always so serious, even
about the business of his many pleasures, such as now with the
anticipated celebration.
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