Sandra Hill - [Vikings II 02]
Page 30
Only later, when they all sat in the den, feeling very much like a true family, did Maggie ask Joe, “What will you do here?”
“I know not for certain. Build fireplaces? Teach demented people how to row a machine? Join the you-ess military as a warrior?” He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
She shook her head. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I will be happy wherever you are. You are my destiny.”
Epilogue
Two weeks later…
Everyone agreed it was the best Viking wedding ever held on the grounds of a Texas mental hospital.
Primitive at times.
Poignant at times.
Unconventional at all times.
Jorund’s brother Geirolf wanted him to wait until summer and have a spectacular lakeside ceremony at Rosestead, following the ancient Viking rituals. Rosestead’s famous rosebushes would be in bloom then. But Jorund was heard to exclaim, “það kemur ekki komi til greina!” That was the Old Norse version of “No way!” Jorund said his brother was living in another world—Viking soap opera humor—if he thought he was going to wait any longer than necessary to make Maggie his bride, and he certainly wasn’t waiting for a bloody rosebush to bloom before he broke the period of celibacy his fiancée was insisting upon during the betrothal period.
Rolf sighed in the end and said, “Allt lagi.” That was Viking for “OK.” He also said something about bullheaded Norsemen who made decisions with organs other than their brains.
It was important to Jorund and Maggie that all their friends from Rainbow be a part of their wedding. Of course, barricades had to be erected around the hospital grounds to hold off the news media and spectators who’d gotten wind of the unusual event.
The wedding was held on a Friday—or Friggsday—to honor the goddess of marriage. It was an unseasonably warm and sunny day, even for Texas in January. Everyone took that as a sign that Jorund was in good favor with the gods, except for Maggie and her daughters, who claimed full credit, having made a wish upon a star to their One-God.
A small family-only wedding ceremony was held in church early that morning, to be followed by the traditional Norse nuptials on the hospital grounds that afternoon. Jorund claimed to be covering all his bases in tying the matrimonial knot.
The day started for both Jorund and Maggie with the ceremonial cleansings, which would normally take place in the castle bathhouse, similar to modern saunas. They compromised by having Maggie take a lilac bubble bath in her own home, with Jorund and his male attendants visiting a local athletic club, with boasted a Jacuzzi and sauna, as well. The symbolism behind these rituals had something to do with purification and the washing away of the virgin or single status. Jorund said the hot steam and cold rinse was more symbolic of his sexual state these past two sennights, which required many cold showers—hot, cold, hot, cold, hot, cold.
While these cleansing rituals were going on, the bride’s and groom’s attendants were supposed to be giving them advice. In Maggie’s case, there was a lot of giggling going on. In Jorund’s case, there was much scoffing and ribald jesting, especially concerning a certain body part of purportedly remarkable size.
Maggie wore the wedding outfit brought from Maine by her sister-by-marriage, Meredith Ericsson, which fit perfectly after a few adjustments. It included a long-sleeved, collarless chemise of gauzy white linen, ankle length in front and pleated and slightly longer in back. Metallic gold embroidered roses edged the wrists and circular neckline. A crimson silk overgown, open-sided in the Viking style, had matching bands of metallic embroidery at the neckline and hem.
The gold shoulder brooches and belt buckle were gifts from Jorund in the design of intertwined boars. The boar was the symbol of Freyja, goddess of fertility. Jorund and Maggie hoped to breed many children before she got too long in the tooth—Jorund’s words—or he lost his virility—Maggie’s words. In truth, there were rumors that Maggie already carried Jorund’s seed.
Jorund wore his brother’s wedding finery: a black cashmere wool tunic with long sleeves, which hung to midthigh over slim trousers. At the waist was the leather belt Maggie had given him for Christmas, including his scabbard, minus his sword, Bloodletter. Rolf had presented him with a new sword that morning, Joy-bringer, which would play an integral part in the ceremony. A white silk-lined mantle, embroidered with roses matching the bridal attire, completed the outfit.
Rolf and Jorund, Meredith and Maggie had all agreed that they would be starting their own individualized Viking customs in this new world, including the passing on to each generation of these family bridal costumes.
Everyone who attended the wedding ceremony wore Viking attire, including the balding, middle-aged Fred Bernstein in furs…which in actuality were worn only on rare occasions and then only in the most frigid climate, but Jorund did not tell him that for fear of hurting his feelings. Fred was accompanied by Gladys Hatcher, who was heard to remark to some attendees that Fred was more than he seemed to be…that, in fact, with all the exercise he’d been getting lately, a person could crack coconuts on his butt. When said attendees had looked askance at Fred, who actually did look quite handsome as a balding Norseman, Gladys had added, “No kidding. His buns of steel would probably set off the metal detectors at the airport.” Good-hearted laughter followed, as it did throughout the day.
Natalie Blue sang the processional and recessional song, “Sweet Dreams.”
By the time the bridal party approached the trellis, decorated with imported lilacs, everyone was in high spirits, especially Maggie’s dual maids of honor, Suzy and Beth, who looked adorable in matching Viking gowns of robin’s-egg blue, their hair in braids wound into coronets atop their head. Jorund had insisted that the girls wear in their braids ribands of all the colors of the rainbow, and soft-skinned, pastel-colored harem shoes on their feet. The girls kept gazing at Jorund with adoration, and on more than one occasion were heard to ask, “Can we call you Daddy yet?”
In some primitive Viking wedding rituals, an animal was sacrificed to the gods. It was not surprising which animal Jorund suggested: the fat white hairball sporting a robin’s-egg blue bow, sitting big-as-you-please beside the refreshment table. After being jabbed in the ribs by a feminine elbow, Jorund compromised and sacrificed a Big Mac to the gods.
During the ceremony, Jorund handed his sword to Maggie, which was to be held in trust for their sons. The sword was a living symbol of the continuation of his bloodline. Jorund informed Maggie in an aside that, when their first son was born, a few grains of salt would be placed on the sword tip, which was in turn touched to the babe’s lips. Thus would the newborn be given the courage of Viking chieftains throughout time, a contempt for danger, weapon skill, and even a facile tongue.
Instead of scoffing at this primitive ritual, the attendees listened raptly. And Maggie had tears in her eyes. “What if we have a daughter, and not a son?”
“Same thing,” Jorund decided on the spot. “We are American Vikings, after all.”
At that, Maggie gave the sword back to Jorund, thus marking the transfer of her guardianship and protection into his hands.
Finger rings were exchanged by both parties, each offered on the tip of the new sword. Once the rings were on their fingers, they joined hands upon the sword hilt and spoke their vows. Rolf and Steve stood as Jorund’s witnesses. Meredith and Shelley were at Maggie’s side.
When they were finally wed, the bride-run began, with Maggie being given a head start in her rush for the hospital door. Jorund chased after her, passed her by with a joyous laugh, and stood awaiting her when she arrived, breathless with excitement. Jorund blocked her way by setting his sword across the doorway. When he took her hand and led her inside, it represented the final transition from maid to wife.
The ancient rituals touched the heart, and made the attendees laugh out loud. On the whole, it was a rip-roaring, whooping event in the style of a true Norse celebration, combined with a little Texas low-down hoedown.
In fact, Jerome Johnson, new owner of Rainbow, gave one of the bridal toasts—honeyed nonalcoholic mead, of course—with these words: “Texans must be Vikings at heart, because both know how to have a damn good time.”
Jerome had become a good friend and patron to Jorund. Not only was he lending them his yacht for a one-week honeymoon, he had even offered to help finance the health club that Jorund planned to open—a club that would cater not to perfect, already fit people—mentally and physically—but to those who needed to hone the talents that God—or the gods—had given them…to be the best that they could be. It was all about self-esteem, as Maggie, in her role of psychologist, had once told him.
“I want to make a difference in this world, like my brother Rolf does,” he had told Maggie when first explaining this plan. “Too long I have been a warrior, taking lives. Now I want to build lives up.”
Maggie’s response had been a little sob and the words, “You already make a difference, Joe, just being you.”
“And Texans and Vikings both think the universe revolves around them,” Gladys Hatcher had yelled out, seconding Jerome’s toast.
“And they’re both the world’s best lovers,” Maggie had muttered under her breath, then ducked her head, just the tiniest bit tipsy from too many nonalcoholic mead toasts and the euphoria of this most special day.
But Jorund heard her and smiled. “Yea, that is the truth. Good loving. ’Tis a gift we Vikings give our women.”
About the Author
SANDRA HILL is a graduate of Penn State and worked for more than 10 years as a features writer and education editor for publications in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Writing about serious issues taught her the merits of seeking the lighter side of even the darkest stories. She is the wife of a stockbroker and the mother of four sons.
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Praise
ROMANTIC TIMES RAVES FOR CAREER ACHIEVEMENT AWARD-WINNER SANDRA HILL!
THE LOVE POTION
“The very talented Sandra Hill adds to her already impressive list of reading gems with this delightfully funny and sexy tale.”
THE BEWITCHED VIKING
“A humorous, adventurous, sensual tale!”
THE LAST VIKING
“A fun, fast-paced, page turner. The reader feels Sandra Hill’s real joy in creating her story and the wordplay between the characters enhances the story.”
THE OUTLAW VIKING
“Sandra Hill has written an entertaining battle-of-the-sexes romance that will keep readers laughing to the very end.”
LOVE ME TENDER
“Leave it to Sandra Hill to take this fractured modern fairy tale and make it a wildly sexy and hilarious romp. Her fans will be delighted.”
SWEETER SAVAGE LOVE
“A fast-paced, sensual yet tongue-in-cheek story peppered with plenty of dynamite dumb-men jokes and riddles. This funny and uplifting read will brighten any day!”
DESPERADO
“Humorous repartee and a high degree of sensuality mix well in Hill’s tale of a wise-cracking poor boy and the aristocratic woman he loves.”
THE TARNISHED LADY
“Sandra Hill has written a sensual, vibrant, fast-paced tale of two proud lovers, their entertaining battle of wills and the steamy passion that overcomes them.”
Other Love Spell and Leisure books by Sandra Hill:
THE LOVE POTION
THE LAST VIKING
FRANKLY, MY DEAR…
THE TARNISHED LADY
THE BEWITCHED VIKING
THE RELUCTANT VIKING
LOVE ME TENDER
THE OUTLAW VIKING
SWEETER SAVAGE LOVE
DESPERADO
Copyright
TRULY, MADLY VIKING. Copyright © 2000 by Sandra Hill. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © May 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-201372-9
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