“Thank you on Frida’s behalf,” Sigrid said. “She is over at Kaarina’s at the moment, helping with the baby.”
“He is a fine baby son for Landwulf,” Einar agreed. “How are the preparations for the King’s visit going?”
Sigrid grimaced and rolled her eyes. “My parents!” she exclaimed in frustration. “They are fussing and fretting as if it is the end of the earth!”
Einar laughed. “And what do you think? Is it the end of all things?”
“No. The King will only be here for three days. And then we shall live the rest of our lives as if he never came here.”
Einar grinned. “You have a different perspective from that of your parents,” he said.
She huffed out a great breath of exasperation. “They are in the barn, cleaning it out so that we can sleep there while the King uses our house. My mother is horrified over all the dirt and smells that we shall have to endure. Soon that barn will be clean enough that we can eat off the floor!”
“Perhaps they need to come and clean our barn,” Einar chuckled. “It will never be that clean.”
“I hope you are never obliged to sleep in it,” Sigrid said. “I will be glad when the King’s visit is over.”
“It is a major disruption to daily life,” agreed Einar. “Halvar and Eira have said to let them know if there is anything they can do to help.”
“I will,” promised Sigrid. “But I am sure my mother will have everything organized. She is like the commander of an army and everything must be perfect.”
“I pity you for the next few weeks,” Einar said with a grin. “I have seen Minna in action. She is formidable!”
Sigrid looked up at him. His hazel eyes smiled into hers and she thought she caught a hint of tenderness there. Confused, she turned away, unable to face the thought that Einar might have feelings for her that she was not ready to acknowledge.
“I must go,” Einar said as if aware of her feelings of confusion.
“Thank you for bringing this for Frida. I will make sure she gets it.”
“We will talk another day,” Einar promised and walked back to the ox-cart.
“I have called you all together for a purpose,” King Haakon said, looking at the thirty young men surrounding him. “Our coming journey to the Christian villages along the coast has a greater purpose than simply getting to know the people and check on their welfare.”
“Is that not what we told them?” asked Dag, puzzled. He and the other two messengers had spent considerable time riding along the coast to inform the villagers of the King’s visit.
“It is only part of the reason for our visit,” Haakon replied.
“What is the other purpose?” asked Hagen.
“Look around you. Can you tell me who I have chosen to accompany me?”
The young men looked around the group.
“We are all Christians,” observed one.
“You are,” agreed the King. “Remember that. We live in a pagan land and Christians are few. What else?”
“We are all around the same age and we all have experience in battle. We are all endowed with physical strength.”
“Correct again.”
“We are all unwed,” stated another.
“Do you think that is an accident?” asked the King.
“I have noticed, Your Highness, that everything you do has a purpose or is part of a strategic plan,” said Damarion.
“Now you are getting closer to guessing,” the King replied. “Do you have any idea about my plan for this visit?”
“You want to encourage the spread of Christianity?” guessed someone else.
“Yes. Christianity is the religion of many of our neighbors in the lands around us. It will provide beneficial political ties and alliances if our land is also Christian.”
“But how does that relate to this visit?” asked Dag, puzzled.
“Very well. You cannot guess the rest of my plan,” said the King. He looked around the group. “Your purpose on this visit is to find women you wish to take for wives,” he said.
There was a rumble of surprise around the group.
“That is not the way it is done in our land,” one of the men said.
“Perhaps not, but many of the villages we will be visiting are those of the sabbatati Christians. These Christians believe in young people having the freedom to choose a spouse for themselves. We can use that to our advantage.”
“So, to clarify, you wish us to seek wives for ourselves among the Christians?” Dag asked.
The King nodded. “Yes.”
“How are we to do that?” asked one of the young men. “We know not how to woo a woman. It is not unheard of in our land, but it is not a common practice.”
“Your task will be to learn and practice. With each other.”
The young men looked at each other in horror. What was the king asking them to do?
“You will take it in turns to pretend that you are the woman. The man has to say pretty things to you, give you gifts that a woman would like and do everything he can to make you fall in love with him.”
The young men groaned. What madness was this?
“You have not asked why we are doing this,” the King said. “How will you ever make good advisors if you are unable to think strategically?”
“What is your purpose for this?” asked Dag.
“It is to strengthen and expand Christianity in our land,” the King replied. “There are thirty of you. If you each find a wife from among the Christians, that will be a lot of influence we will wield among those communities. Each village that we can align with will give us a strategic advantage to increase the spread of Christianity throughout the land. That, in turn, will give us greater strength among our neighbors who are also Christian.”
Suddenly the young men could see the King’s vision.
“It is a wise plan,” Dag said.
The King looked pleased. “At last, you are beginning to see what we can achieve,” he said.
“Is there anything else we should know?” asked Hagen.
“The sabbatati Christians have a custom that you must observe if you wish to court their daughters. They take courting seriously and they prefer you to get to know their daughters first. Then you must go to the parents and declare your intentions of courting their daughter. It is expected that a betrothal will follow a period of courting so you must be certain that you are willing to go all the way to marriage. It is a serious matter to end a betrothal.” He looked around the group. “You must get the daughters and parents to agree to courtship by the time the visit is over. Do your best. At least you are not competing with the rich men of the land who already have several wives. The Christians usually only marry other Christians and as you know, only ever take one wife.”
The young men looked at him in disbelief. The King was serious! Not only did he expect them to find wives on this journey, but he also expected them to have it arranged by the time the visit was over. And all of this was to happen with little knowledge of courting a woman. Most of them were recent converts to Christianity, seeing the advantages offered by aligning themselves with the King. Some had already been betrothed in the past, their new belief system putting an end to those alliances. Several of them had had to pay costly compensation to the families but the King had assured them it would be worth it.
“You will start practicing courtship now,” the King decided. “Gather into pairs. Each day you will spend some time learning how to court a woman so that when you meet one, you will know what to do.”
“What if we cannot find one?” asked Asmund.
The King fixed him with a long, even look. “If not on this journey, you will find a Christian wife some other way. I expect you to fulfill this obligation for the kingdom. You are all free of any previous obligations for a reason. This is it. Now, start your practice.” He turned and walked away, leaving the young men stunned at this sudden turn of events.
Hagen turned to Dag. “Do you wish to be
my partner in this crazy scheme of the King’s?” he asked.
The other young men bellowed with laughter, but Hagen fixed them with a glare. “You also need to do this,” he reminded them.
“You are as ugly as anyone else,” Dag said. “It makes no difference to me.” He sidled up to Hagen. “Oh Haley,” he crooned in a high, sing-song voice. “You are beautiful beyond compare. Your beard is like corn silk. Your ears are finer than a sow’s. Your voice is sweeter than a donkey’s and your eyes remind me of the prettiest mud-puddle in the land. May I court you?”
Hagen glared at him while the other young men roared laughing. When they had quietened down, he spoke. “I am certain that is not what the King had in mind, Dag,” he said. “But let me remind you that you will be next. And may God help us all if we fail to find brides.”
Dag sighed. It was going to be a very long month.
CHAPTER 3
Sigrid hurried to the kitchen to help her mother prepare the meal for the King and the men who would be staying in their house. The rest of the men would be lodging with the other villagers. The whole village was on edge as everyone scurried around preparing for the arrival of the King.
“Here comes the King!” a messenger shouted, riding into the village. “The King is coming! Make ready to welcome him!”
Sigrid recognized the young man who had delivered the message the first time. He stopped and pulled his horse to the edge of the road as he waited for the King to arrive.
Soon they heard the horses approaching around the bend in the road. All of the villagers stood outside their houses, waiting to welcome the King. At last, they saw the King and his men riding towards them. They stopped, the King in the lead, surrounded by two men on each side.
Alfonso stepped forward.
“Welcome to Merilant, Your Highness,” he said, bowing.
The King dismounted from his horse. “Thank you for your welcome,” he said cordially. “My men and I are delighted to be here.”
“You must be weary from your journey,” Alfonso said. “Let us show you to your lodging. Some of your men will be able to stay with you, if you wish, while the rest will have lodging in the other houses of the village.”
“That is an arrangement that suits us,” the King replied. “We will gladly accept your hospitality.”
While Alfonso led the King to their house, several of the other men showed the young men where they would be staying. It was a well-honed introduction that had paid off. Sigrid heaved a sigh of relief. After the stress and fluster of the last few weeks, it had gone smoothly. Now they just needed to get through the next few days without any mishaps. She was sure her mother would collapse with exhaustion after the strain of the past few weeks.
“Pssst!”
Someone dug her in the ribs and Sigrid turned around. It was Frida.
“Look at that young man with the black horse. Is he not handsome?” She surreptitiously pointed towards a young man holding the reins of a large, black horse.
Sigrid looked at him just as he turned his face towards them. Their eyes met and Sigrid instantly looked away, a blush spreading over her cheeks. He was quite the most handsome young man she’d ever seen. He had wavy dark hair that curled down to his shoulders, heart-melting dark eyes, and the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man. His nose was long and straight and he was tall and lean. She’d never laid eyes on anyone quite like him.
Frida dug her in the ribs again. “Well, what do you think?” she whispered.
“You are right. He is handsome,” Sigrid conceded.
“I wonder if he is wed,” Frida giggled. “He would make a handsome husband.”
“For yourself? What about Torsten?”
“No, silly! For you!”
“I have no need of a husband,” Sigrid said but she felt her resolve weaken as the young man flashed her a heart-melting smile. He was exquisite. Perhaps she might change her mind, after all.
Sigrid scurried between the kitchen and the dining table, bearing plates of food to serve their guests. She’d hardly had time to speak to anyone but the King had already praised the food they’d served. She heaved a sigh of relief. Perhaps the young messenger had been right; maybe the King was not difficult to entertain. Still, she was worried about doing something clumsy or opening her mouth and saying something inappropriate. She kept her head down and her mouth shut as she hurried back to the kitchen.
To make matters worse, the young man with the black horse was staying in their house with the King. His name was Hagen; she’d learned that much from listening to the conversation around the dinner table.
After the meal, she was in the kitchen cleaning up while her mother prepared food for the family to take to the barn to eat. She looked up as someone entered the room.
“May I intrude for a moment?” Hagen asked politely.
“Of course,” Minna said, flustered nevertheless that one of the men should enter her domain.
Hagen stepped through the door. “I just wished to say thank you to the cooks for the excellent meal,” he said, patting his stomach.
Minna laughed, instantly won over. She loved to cook for people who enjoyed eating.
“That is our pleasure,” she said.
“I am Hagen,” he said. “Since we are staying at your house, we might as well get to know each other.”
“I am Minna and this is my daughter, Sigrid,” Minna said. “My other daughter is Frida but she has stepped outside for a moment.”
“Well, you are all fine cooks,” Hagen replied. “In fact, as a token of my appreciation, I would like to give you each a little something.” He reached inside his tunic and brought out a small package.
He unwrapped the parcel and picked up an exquisite brooch. “Minna, this is for you. Thank you for the care you have given us.”
Minna went bright red and her voice was high with pleasure. “Thank you, Hagen,” she said. “It is a beautiful gift and I shall treasure it.”
He turned to Sigrid, his dark eyes meeting hers. “And one for you, the lovely young lady of the house,” he said, handing it to her. His hand lingered on hers as she took it from him and she felt as if a lightning bolt had shot up her arm.
“Thank you,” she said, flustered. She hoped he didn’t notice the blush she could feel staining her cheeks.
He held out the last brooch. “This is for Frida,” he said. “Please give it to her when she returns, along with my thanks.”
“I will,” Sigrid promised.
“I will see you in the morning,” he said, his voice deep and musical. He made the statement sound like a caress.
Sigrid felt her heart flutter at the thought.
“What a lovely young man,” Minna said after he’d gone. “I wonder if he is wed.”
That evening, Frida and Sigrid sank into their beds in the loft, weary after a long day. Farvald and their parents were still up, entertaining the King and preparing for the following day.
“What a day this has been,” groaned Sigrid. “I have never worked so hard in all my life.”
“But has it not been worth it?” asked Frida. “Hagen gave us both beautiful brooches as a thank you. I told you he was nice.”
“Nice and handsome,” admitted Sigrid. “But probably married.”
“No, he is not,” Frida said. “Farvald told me that they got talking and Hagen said he is not married. Since Farvald is yet to find a wife, they had much in common.”
Sigrid felt her heartbeat quicken at the news. Hagen was not married!
“Is he betrothed?” she asked.
“No. He is a Christian and wishes to find a Christian wife. He has not found one yet.”
Sigrid almost sat up in bed. Hagen was unmarried and seeking a wife! The thought was both terrifying and intriguing.
Frida yawned. “I am sleepy,” she said. “Good night, Sister.”
“Good night,” Sigrid murmured, but she was far from sleepy. Long after her parents and Farvald retired to the loft and soft snores fill
ed its cozy space, she lay awake, thinking of a young man with dark eyes and a heart-melting smile.
The following morning, the King set off with Alfonso to view the farms of the area. Several of the young men went with them, but the rest stayed, on his instructions. Hagan went to find Dag, who was staying with Emiline.
“Have you found a young lady yet?” he asked.
Dag shook his head. “The family I am staying with has young children. There are no women of marrying age.”
“There are others in the village. I have seen them,” Hagen responded. “Perhaps you need to meet the families of the village and offer to help anyone that has a daughter the right age.”
“Yes, that might work,” agreed Dag. “Have you found anyone?”
“Perhaps,” said Hagen. “There are two young ladies in the household where we are staying. One of them is betrothed but the other is not.”
“Is it the blonde one?” Dag asked.
“Yes, Sigrid.”
“She is pretty,” Dag said admiringly. “I saw her yesterday. You are lucky her face does not resemble the hind end of a donkey.”
“The King cares not for looks, it’s true,” Hagen agreed. “He wants us to take ugly wives if it furthers his purposes.”
“So, when you find a girl like Sigrid, you do whatever it takes to get her. Or Haakon might find you someone whose head you must place in a sack because you cannot bear the sight of her.”
Hagen laughed. “That would be a terrible fate,” he agreed.
“So why are you wasting time talking to me? Go woo the girl.”
Hagen pulled a face. “After all the practice we did, I am likely to tell her that she has a magnificent beard.”
Dag chuckled. “You would be better to bite your tongue off than to say that,” he agreed. “Go. Talk to her. I will be praying that you are successful.”
“I will tell you later how it went,” Hagen said, striding off to find Sigrid.
Sigrid heard footsteps approaching and looked up. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Hagen approaching. She was suddenly conscious of being on her knees as she dug carrots and turnips to make a stew.
Sigrid: Spurned (Viking Guardians Book 4) Page 2