by Robynn Gabel
“The women are tending her. Odin has blessed you; now use his wisdom and take care of yourself,” Roald said.
The savory smell of mutton stew filled the air as Dagfinn put a bowl in front of him. Roald slid a cup of ale next to it, joining Einar at the table.
“I would suggest the steam bath is next, my friend,” Roald smirked.
Einar didn’t answer since his mouth was full of stew.
The ferryman’s tall form slid quietly across from Einar. “So the little flame still burns bright.” Einar felt his gentle eyes studying him.
“Já, the gods honored her loyalty. But I wonder if the person she protected is worthy of it,” Einar said, taking a swig of ale.
Steepling his fingers, Roald glanced around the hall. Lowering his voice, he said, “We are the only three who are aware of whom she asked for on the ship. I can think of only two people who would have that knowledge. Unknowingly, your little flame gave us an edge.”
The ferryman nodded. “But my knife would like to carve the truth out of the one who used her.” His gentle gaze had suddenly become darkly sinister.
“I am glad we remain friends, Alfgrímr. I would not want to be one who has angered you,” Einar said solemnly.
“Only my friends ever know my name.” The ferryman rose. “Good to see your heart survived this as well, Einar.” Smiling enigmatically, he shuffled away.
Einar narrowed his eyes, thinking that Alfgrímr was far too observant for his own good sometimes.
Stretching as she came awake, Seraphina noted various aches and pains, but the worst seemed to be her sore, cracked lips and the burning skin across her face and arms. Glancing around the room, she wondered where she was. The mattress under her smelled of sweet clover; the bed’s twisted wood posts glowed with a warm honey color. Turning her head, she met Bengtha’s cool gray eyes.
“How do you feel?” her smooth tone pleasantly inquired.
Sitting up, Seraphina considered the beauty sitting beside the bed. “I am grateful I am alive, and I am hungry.” She glanced around the room.
“Já, there is no one near.”
“Good. Tell me: did you know your brother planned a raid? Was it a message telling him it was safe to attack? I do not like how you used me for your gain.”
Bengtha’s winsome features twisted into a haughty sneer. “I thought you would understand my plight, being in the same one yourself. You are not the only one who wishes to go home.”
“I gave you my word and kept it. You made a vow in marriage to Roald; where is your loyalty? And even though I broke my word to Einar, I will never break my word again.”
Bengtha turned her head and spit. Anger clipped each word. “Easy for you to speak of vows and loyalty, but I was taken against my will and made to marry my enemy. I hate him. But you are a stranger here, Angles. You can not understand our ways or beliefs.”
Seraphina stared at Bengtha for a moment. “I spent a lot of time thinking in the last three days. I have decided to quit fighting my God’s will and find the blessings in my situation. I feel sorry for you, Bengtha; you could do the same because Roald loves you, even though he is blind to your true nature.”
A soft knock on the small door interrupted Bengtha’s heated glare. Mara hurried in, bearing a trencher of mutton and bread. “Ladye, Einar requests you join him if you are up to it but only after you eat all of this.” Mara’s usual stoic demeanor had a new softness.
Bengtha moved regally to the door, glancing back over her shoulder. “Good health, Seraphina.” And she was gone.
“Ladye, you are looking so much better and,” Mara said but then paused, tearing up, “and I am glad that you are still with us.”
Seraphina squeezed her hand.
Ljúfa was the next to burst through the door, her arms full of dresses. “Einar has sent these for you.”
“Why? Am I not wearing a slave’s tunic?” Seraphina looked at both women, searching for an answer.
“No, you survived exposure. Roald says the gods have allowed you to be reborn, and he has declared you are now a Nóregr,” Ljúfa said with a a sunshine smile.
When Seraphina entered the hall, she noted that all chatter ceased. Einar turned from the fire pit, his lips slowly growing upward, and his beard split wide open, showing a crescent of white.
“Smár hyrr.”
It was a statement of wonder wrapped in a deep male voice. After a morning of bathing and scrubbing away three days of pain, Mara had worked a ribbon of green silk through her red-gold tresses. Tendrils of soft waves fell around Seraphina’s face, setting off her free-spirited freckles.
The dark-green underdress had a yoked neck and was the backdrop to the light-green tunic with roped trim. Holding the straps of the tunic were two small silver brooches worked into the intertwining circles of Einar’s family design. Long bell sleeves edged in fine embroidery fell gracefully beside the golden girdle.
Roald stood. “Seraphina, truly you are beautiful.”
She smiled. From a Nóregr, this was a rare compliment, as they were not wont to give praise. Especially since Seraphina knew she wasn’t at her best with the sunburn beginning to peel and her lips still rough from dehydration. Looking at Einar, she searched his face for any lingering anger, but all she saw was warm admiration in the depths of mountain lake–blue eyes.
She decided to test his mood. “I could not eat the entire sheep you sent for my breaking fast, but I am truly amazed by your generosity in clothing.”
His countenance had wavered when she started, but now he looked like a little boy just given his favorite treat.
“Dagfinn!” he called.
The young man appeared with her rabbit-furred cloak over his arm.
“We are making a trip to Jørpeland. I was hoping you could see some of our more beautiful fjords. From there we will travel home, as we are beginning to smell like dead fish here.”
Laughter echoed off the longhouse walls.
Several days later, Einar had no doubt Seraphina was fully recovered.
“What? You want to do what?” Her eyes flashed fire.
Sitting at the table in his longhouse, he could see her lips were almost healed—the skin on her cheeks a bright pink.
“I am offering you my protection and my lands. I want you by my side, and no other. I would like to think that any woman would be happy to accept what I offer. You insult me, smár hyrr,” he snapped.
Dagfinn earned a dark scowl from Einar for his outburst of laughter. Seraphina’s brows drew together, the downturn of her lips indicating more was coming.
“You think I can not take care of myself? That I am an unworthy bride, and now I must find a man? I know that I have nothing of worth either here or at my home, but I will not take your charity.”
“Argh!” Einar threw a cup at the wall.
Elsjorn’s roar of laughter now joined Dagfinn’s. Basina’s perpetual frown had turned into a smirk, and Ljúfa’s wide eyes showed confusion.
“Dagfinn, do something besides bray like a donkey. Get Iohannes from Gunnar’s. Tell his steward I have requested it.” Pushing back the bench, he stomped out the hall doors.
Sadness tugged at Seraphina’s heart when she watched Einar leave. Why must she always offend him? All she wanted to do was tell him she was grateful for his protection. Following Ljúfa into the chicken croft, hens squawked their protest at the invasion of their territory.
Ljúfa said quietly, “Do you not love my brother?”
Shooing a chicken away from a nest so she could get the egg within, Seraphina turned, looking into blue eyes like Einar’s.
“I do not know. I am grateful that he cares for me. But that is no reason to join as man and wife, especially if I do not feel the same in return.”
Seraphina suddenly felt much older than the innocent eyes studying her. This one knew nothing about how treacherous life could be. She reached out, her hand smoothing down the softness of Ljúfa’s flax-colored hair. “Or maybe it is just my fear of tru
sting again, but most of all, I do not want to depend on others. It brings everyone pain when I do.”
Ljúfa’s pink lips pulled up in a little smile. “He stayed with you the whole time and even carried you back to the hall. I know he acts like a boar, but he cares.”
Seraphina worried her bottom lip with her teeth. His defiance in the vote and staying with her may have cost him dearly. Gunnar was currently serving as Jarl Roald’s second. Einar had said it was because the planting needed to be done. But to Seraphina, there seemed a distance between Einar and Roald. Was she the reason?
“Will you let us live here if you become my brother’s wife?”
“Oh, Ljúfa! I would never send you away. There is a lot to consider before I will say yes to such an arrangement with your brother. I know one thing for sure: I love you!”
She swept the young girl into her arms, hugging her. Looking up, she met Basina’s smoldering gaze as she shooed an escaped chicken back into the pen. “Be careful what you promise, Angles. The long house is my home and in my care, and I have say who stays and who leaves. What makes you think you have any more say than a thrall? Surviving three days of exposure during the summer does not make you a Nóregr, no matter what that bastard jarl says. And you dishonor me, daughter, with the níðingr’s you waste your loyalty on. Get to your chores now!” Basina snarled.
The tension between the three women was broken when Dagfinn hollered from the house, calling for Seraphina.
Seraphina was surprised to see Iohnannes sitting at the trestle table when she entered. “Though it is good to see my fellow Seletun brethren, why have you brought him here, Einar?”
“It is our custom to have the head of the family discuss the agreements of marriage. He is the only one I can provide you.”
She raised her hand without thinking, touching Einar’s cheek. He grabbed it, holding it there. His eyes lighting with hope.
Quickly, she pulled away. “You ask me to make a handsal with you, but what if I am not sure? You hold a vow in high esteem, as I well know, but what if I can not promise my love?”
Einar’s hopeful expression fell away, irritation dawning in its place. “Sit down; we will talk.”
They all gathered around the hall’s table. Iohannes sat at one end of the table, watching them. Basina showed no expression, but Ljúfa looked expectant.
“Our people do not give empty words of love, Seraphina. I will not offer you worthless promises as your last betrothed did. I speak of sharing a life. I vow to help raise a family, farm the land, honor one another, and enjoy the fruit of our labors together. This is what I can give you.”
“I have no dowry unless you take back my lands in Britain. There is nothing I can offer you. Do not you see this?” she ground out in frustration.
He fumbled with a leather bag and pulled out a golden cross, tossing it on the table in front of her.
“It is worth far more than a passage to Britain, smár hyrr. Even though your worthless betrothed had no honor, he was true in giving a bridal gift of worth. I hold not what you have in wealth as your measure, but who you are. I know you will prosper my lands and give me healthy sons that will have backbones. . . .”
Seraphina brought her hand up to cover her smile when Dagfinn’s snort cut in. With a glower that would have caused any enemy to tremble, Einar went on. “And can face life in this harsh land. That is far more important to me than any silver or gold you own.”
Seraphina stared at the cross, hands balling in her lap as she took in a quick breath.
“It is too soon, Einar! We believe in different gods; your people are so. . . .”
He leaned over, his hand curled around the back of her neck, and his lips met hers. She stiffened and tried to pull away, her hands pushing on his chest. He murmured in her ear, “Deny, smár hyrr, that your heart is not racing, that you do not want to get closer, or let yourself feel my embrace.”
“Oh!” she gasped, pushing out of his arms; she stood and fled.
Odinørindi nickered as she slipped into the fenced run. He walked toward her, stopping to sniff at her face and then her hands.
“Sorry, no treats.” Her hand slid down his muscled neck.
“I am glad you are looking well, my ladye,” Iohannes said from behind her.
She turned. “You are looking well also. It has been a long time since we have talked. How does Hadley fare?”
“She is well and serves Gunnar’s wife. Hadley is with child, and they both have something in common. Though I am lost to understand this, I have learned the Norp weg women see things differently than we do. They have become quite close, especially since Gunnar’s wife is suffering greatly with trying to carry a child to full growth.”
Relief washed over Seraphina. Iohannes continued, “I heard the news about Lord Forthred and give my condolences. He was a godly man. You can rest assured you will see him again one day.”
The pain of loss flared again in Seraphina’s heart. “I know it is a sin to seek revenge, but because of Allard the Pig, I have lost the dearest man in my life. Did you know he hired the Norp wegs to kill me?”
The look of sympathy in Iohannes’s eyes almost brought forth a fountain of tears again.
“I suspected his treachery. We could all see he was not sincere, but it was not my place to interfere.”
Seraphina shot Iohannes an angry glare. “All I want now is the pig’s death, whether or not it is a sin. Why would God allow this to happen anyway?”
Iohannes shook his head. “I can not answer you. Would it help to know I have asked the same questions? I have finally come to accept there is a greater plan, and we can not always see past the pain of the moment. But I trust there will always be good in the outcome somehow.”
Sighing, she joined him at the fence. “All I have focused on is getting home. I am not certain what to do now.”
“Einar is acting as an honorable man. For whatever reason, God has brought us to this shore; we can trust in His will for us. We must deal with the circumstances the best we can. It is my humble opinion any union between a man and woman pledged to each other is honored and blessed by God.”
She smiled. “We have been friends since we were how old? I remember arguing about Socrates and whether he was an honorable man to drink the hemlock. Now you would argue a pagan ritual would be considered acceptable by God?”
Iohannes turned a dark shade of red. “My ladye, it is not like that. What truths we hold in our hearts is the only thing that matters. I had this discussion with my sister. She is ashamed that she has conceived out of wedlock, but I have explained God would not hold this against her or the child. The choice was not hers. You would argue with God that you do not belong here? That God has made a mistake?”
Seraphina had thought about many of these same things in her days of exposure. “But Iohannes, I do not know if I love him. I am afraid now. I thought Cecil loved me. Look where we all are because of that. And I have seen marriages here arranged for convienience or base desire, and trust me, neither of those women are happy. I do not want to take an offer unless I know I will love the man for who he is not what he offers.”
Iohannes shrugged. “There are all sorts of love, Seraphina.” A mischievous twinkle shone in his eye.
“I have missed you!” She threw her arms around him. Stepping back, she looked him over. “What about you? Are you okay?”
“I am well. I went into the monastery because I wanted to serve God. Now I realize as a true servant, you must serve His people, wherever you are.” He flexed his arm, a bicep bulging. “I would never have been this strong as a monk.”
They were laughing when Einar approached, a frown on his face.
“Seraphina, I am tired of your fleeing. Have you not learned that I will find you, and it only gets you into trouble?”
Iohannes ducked his head and left.
She walked into the cool interior of the croft, a lump in her throat. Einar followed her. Looking out at the grazing stallion, she pulled togethe
r her courage. “I want to thank you. I did not deserve you staying with me, but without you there, I would have perished. I can not say how much that meant to me.”
Grabbing her shoulder and turning her around, he shoved her against the cold stone wall. He brought his head down, staring into her eyes. Grabbing her arms, he buried his face in her hair. He ghosted kisses against her temple; then his lips nibbled at a tender earlobe. Shivers of goose bumps ran down her arms. He kissed gently down her neck, and she relaxed against him. Her hands came to his chest. Close to her ear, his breath carried the slight timbre of his voice as he said, “Yield to me, Seraphina.”
Somewhere deep inside of her, a little voice said yes. She was tired of fighting and wanted just to let go and feel. She pressed her lips against his, and he eagerly accepted. He let go of her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling his solid muscled chest against her. Deepening the kiss, every nerve in her body fired, her heart pounding against her ribs. Breaking from the kiss, he buried his face in the side of her neck.
Seraphina felt a nameless need growing deep within her. Swept away with the sensations flowing through her, his voice sounded far away.
“Smár hyrr, be my wife.”
Seraphina gritted her teeth, pulling away. Tension raked at the back of her neck and shoulders like the sharp claws of a raven. With her father gone and everyone thinking she was dead as well, no one would seek to rescue her. Should she continue to fight to go home and claim her inheritance? Who would consider her a good marriage prospect now that she had spent so much time with Norp wegs? It seemed this was her new life. She was free to make her own choices. Stiffening, she drew herself up, a soft breeze cooling her heated skin
“Nay, I will not deny your caresses fire my blood. But you have taught me well what a Nóregr vow means. I will not pledge anything unless I know I will stand true to it.”
Einar crossed his arms over his chest. Each word came out clipped. “I had desired you never need to learn that lesson and wished you could have learned it in an easier manner, but we live in an unforgiving land where any mistake could be our last.”