Viking Bride

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Viking Bride Page 6

by Vivian Leigh


  Eliza spun on him, her face flushed, her fist shaking. “No.” She punched him right in the mouth. He spluttered, and took a step back. She didn’t give him to think, just stepped closer and hit him square between the legs with another kick. “I’ve had enough out of you two.”

  She plucked the dagger from his fist and raised it. She could lay his throat open right then, right there. Send him right back to the dirt and give Ratface the same treatment. Or she could hold, make a break for it, hope they couldn’t follow.

  It wasn’t a decision at all. She stepped over the guide and jammed the knife home. He groaned. A wet stain spread on the floor. Moving carefully in order to keep her shoes out of the mess, she closed in on Ratface.

  “No, I was good to you,” he groaned, trying to crawl away.

  “And I’ll be good to you.”

  After she did the deed, she noticed something glimmering on his belt and retrieved it. Her own dagger, the one they’d taken from her the previous night. She tucked it into the sheath that still hung from her neck.

  Ratface lay on the floor, the surprise still writ across his face, when she let herself out into the bitter night. Amma had given her up. Well, the old bitty would get hers, eventually. If Kelnar didn’t see to it, she would.

  ***

  Eliza rapped on the door of Kelnar’s longhouse. She kept her newest weapon tucked up the inside of her forearm out of sight, but ready to bring to bear. No one was going to take her captive again, not without a fight.

  The door opened, revealing a guard she didn’t recognize. “Out of my way,” she said, pushing him square in the chest.

  He staggered back, spluttering. “You can’t just come in here like… Oh. Milady, I apologize.”

  Eliza swept past him, searching for her mother. She found her at the fire, where it seemed every Viking liked to spend their time. Karna had her back to the door and didn’t see Eliza approach.

  “Is he really coming back in the next few days?” she demanded.

  Her mother spun around, her face clouding, then spreading into a smile. “Eliza! Thank the Gods you’re back!”

  Eliza returned her mother’s hug and let the older woman kiss her on both cheeks. “Well, is he?”

  “Kelnar? He should return by morning. My last scrying only had him a few leagues away.”

  “So Amma lied about that, too.”

  “Amma? Whose amma?”

  “Ingrid’s. She said she sent a message to you. I take it that one never came?”

  Her mother shook her head. “I’ve been worried sick about you, dear. I knew you were close, but couldn’t tell which house. We’ve had Kelnar’s guards searching high and low for you.”

  “I was close, yes.” She related the story of her capture and escape.

  Her mother nodded gravely at word of Ratface and his crony. “It’s only a shame you couldn’t finish all three of them.”

  “I’m not sure I could have handled the big one. He was a real warrior, not some has-been or never-was that got left behind when the raiders went out.”

  “Well, Kelnar will be back soon. I suspect we will see some resolution of this treachery.”

  “I can only hope. Will it be safe here tonight, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. Safe enough. We’ll have warning if anyone comes, at least.”

  Eliza fingered the dagger between her breasts. “Have the doors locked. No one comes in or out until Kelnar is on the beach.”

  Karna nodded curtly. “It will be done.”

  Eliza made her way to her sleeping pallet and collapsed onto it. If she made it through the night without violence, it would be lucky indeed.

  ***

  Eliza was dressing in the pre-dawn light when a cry went up from the sentry at the main door.

  “There’s a crowd outside!”

  “Armed?” Karna asked, hurrying toward him.

  Eliza couldn’t hear the response, but after the previous twenty-four hours, she had to assume the worst. If only they could have waited. Her mother had scried Kelnar’s ships and seen them arriving with the tide in just a few more hours. The longhouse was stout enough to hold a crowd at bay, but not if they decided to use fire.

  Slipping her dagger into its sheath, she sighed. Perhaps they weren’t violent. She snorted at the thought.

  “It looks like mostly women and old men,” the sentry said. His hand kept finding its way to the sword that hung at his side, though he looked hardly old enough to know how to use it.

  Eliza gently moved him out of the way and peered out the peephole. “That doesn’t mean much. The women hate me more than the men.”

  It was a crowd of women, alright. They didn’t look angry, though. They milled about, as if they were waiting. The people at the back parted, allowing a cloaked figure to pass through to the front. It stopped a few paces from the door and threw back its hood, revealing rosy cheeks and long, blonde hair. Ingrid.

  “Eliza, we mean you no harm,” the Viking girl said. “You don’t have to open the door if you don’t trust us, but at least listen to what we have to say.”

  Eliza glanced at her mother. “What do you think?”

  “Do you know her?”

  “That’s Ingrid. Her amma betrayed me, but I don’t think she would.”

  “You should at least listen. It’s up to you whether you go out there.”

  Eliza rubbed her chin. “If Kelnar wishes me to help him rule these people, I cannot hide every time he is gone. Help me with the bar.”

  Together they moved the bar that locked the door, and Eliza pulled it open. She stepped out onto the blustery cold stoop and met Ingrid’s eye. “I will listen.”

  “My amma has done you great disservice. The women of this village have done you great disservice. But we want you to know, not all stand against you. Kelnar is the mightiest warrior we have had in a generation, and as his chosen consort, we accept you.”

  Eliza considered the words. They accepted her as Kelnar’s choice, but not on her own merits. Not good enough. If the Norsemen respected strength, then they should know of her strength.

  She took the jeweled dagger from the sheath at her bosom and held it up before the crowd. “Kelnar gave me this dagger as a promise. Within days I used it to slay Bor, father of Angmar after the son shamed. You know of this already, I suspect.”

  She jammed the blade into the door frame and withdrew the plain dagger tucked into her belt. “This dagger I took from one of your warriors. It was held to my back with I disabled the warrior in front, took it from the one behind and used it to slit both their throats.” She flung it to the ground between Ingrid’s feet. It stuck, quivering. “I have not taken plunder on the battlefields of France. I was taken as plunder. I have not slain men in open combat. I have slain those that wished to injure me in darkness. I will not lead you from behind Kelnar, great though he may be. I will lead you as I am, as a clever, cruel and capable mistress.” She rested her hands on her ships, glared into the audience, daring any to meet her eye.

  None did.

  One by one they bowed their heads. After a few moments, Ingrid stood tall. “I will not claim that it will be easy or bloodless, but this group represents thirteen of the seventeen largest families. We will stand behind you.”

  “Then let us go greet our warriors. They return with the tide.”

  A murmur ran through the crowd. Ingrid nodded approvingly. “Let us.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Bride

  Kelnar’s armada arrived just as Karna predicted. Eliza waited on the strand for the ships that were approaching out of the fog.

  More people came from the village and joined her group, though most of the rest stayed away. They all knew who she was, and they feared to get too close to her blades.

  Kelnar’s ship landed first with the grinding of wood on sand. One of the warriors lowered the boarding plank as the other ships slid onto land up and down the strand.

  Eliza stayed put, waiting. After what felt like an ete
rnity, Kelnar’s broad form appeared at the bow, surveying the beach. Only when she recognized him did she stride forward. Grinning warriors streamed around her, weapons and loot and prisoners balanced on their shoulders. Figures from the crowd raced to greet them, tears beading their eyes.

  Kelnar met her midway up the gangplank, swinging her into his arms.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  Eliza planted a kiss square on his lips.

  He carried up onto the ship, swept a hand over the stacked treasures. “It was a productive raid. Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?”

  Eliza grinned. “Oh, you know, a thing or two.” She fingered the tie on the front of his breeches. “I’ll tell you about it if you’ll let me have my way with you,” she whispered.

  The laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “Gladly.”

  Eliza melted into his arms, happy at last.

  ***

  A traditional Viking wedding was supposed to happen in the autumn or early winter, but Kelnar didn’t want to wait. He had his future queen, and he wanted her to be officially recognized. Plus he had ships loaded with supplies, so providing for the feast wasn’t going to be a problem.

  Karna worked with Ingrid to plan the ceremony. Mead was sourced, food was cooked, and a gathering place was set. A few days before the event, Karna and Ingrid took Eliza to an unfamiliar building near the back of the village. It had the stout eaves of the other longhouses, but it was shorter and more compact. A tremendous amount of steam billowed out above it.

  “What is this place?” Eliza asked.

  “A steamhouse.” Ingrid held the door. “It is for purification for a bride-to-be.” She grinned. “I understand that you could use extra purification.”

  Eliza set her jaw. It was only a joke, she knew, but she was proud of who she was. Proud of how she’d handled herself. And beyond proud of the respect she’d earned in Kelnar’s absence.

  Her mother laid a hand on her shoulder. “Peace, Eliza. She means well.”

  “I know,” Eliza conceded.

  The inside of the steamhouse was surprisingly not-steamy. At least not the first room. Instead, it had a wide wooden tub full of rose colored water. Red petals floated on the surface. A thick wooden door led to an adjacent room. Runnels of water dripped from the seams in the door, and the floor before it was stained dark and wet. Waves of heat emanated from that side of the room.

  “I am to bathe?” Eliza asked, eyeing the tub.

  “You are.” Ingrid helped her out of her dress and waited quietly as she tested the water.

  Eliza yelped, and her toe puckered up like a baby sucking spoiled milk. She looked at her mother, aghast. “It’s cold!”

  “Of course it is. Get in the water, child. Once you’ve bathed, you can go next door and warm up.”

  Eliza held her breath and slipped into the water. Her whole body felt like it locked up. Every muscle tensed, and the cold seemed to tighten around her like an over-eager lover. She scrambled back out of the tub after only a few seconds.

  “Okay, I’m as purified as I’m going to get,” Eliza said, her teeth chattering. She scuttled toward the warm door, trying to control her shivering.

  Her mother and Ingrid removed their dresses and hung them on pegs, then they all entered the steam room together.

  It was gloriously hot. Great clouds of steam hung in the air. Heat emanated from the floor and rinsed the chill from Eliza’s bones.

  “Gods above, it feels wonderful,” Eliza said.

  Ingrid pointed to a cloth and a bucket. “We will bathe you again and then this part will be finished.”

  It didn’t take long to wipe Eliza with the cloth and rub her with the oil, but when they finished, there was no hurry to leave the steamhouse. When they finally did leave, Eliza made sure to make a mental note of where to find the building in the future. She wasn’t sure the rules for using it, but she was definitely making it a point to return. Queens could do that sort of thing, she thought.

  ***

  The wedding ceremony was on Frigga’s day, honoring the goddess of wives and mothers. The entire village filled a grove of ancient trees, not far from the shore. Cordith and Aldith walked with Eliza and her mother. Ingrid was with them, too, carrying the sword and ring that Eliza would present Kelnar.

  “Are you ready, Eliza?” Ingrid was the most concerned of Eliza’s attendants, but that was probably because she was the one that knew the most about her peoples’ customs.

  “I’m ready. Gods, but I’m ready.” Eliza ached for Kelnar. Being Queen would have practical benefits, but being wedded to Kelnar went far beyond practicality. It went right to the core of who she was. She had a will and a strength of her own, but Kelnar reinforced them both and made her stronger than she could ever be alone.

  “Wait here.” Karna rested a hand on Eliza’s shoulder while Ingrid strode on ahead. They let Ingrid get into position, then the rest of part moved forward.

  Eliza’s dress swished as she walked. Pale green and white, it was nicer than her other dresses, though not particularly so. She would come to Kelnar as she was, not as a dolled up caricature of a woman. Being herself was one Viking tradition she found she approved of.

  The women stopped a few paces short of the rise where Kelnar stood. Eliza walked ahead alone, passing under a large wicker arch. She glanced up as she went beneath it, the only time she let her eyes stray from Kelnar. It was like walking into another world when she emerged on the other side. Nothing outward had changed, but on the inside she could feel it. Her trials would surely not all be behind her, but the ones that lay ahead would be with Kelnar by her side.

  “You’re beautiful,” Kelnar murmured.

  “So are you,” Eliza whispered back. He blushed, then bit his lip to keep from laughing. Eliza just smiled.

  Ingrid passed her the sword for Kelnar, then Eliza and Kelnar stood before the village elder that was to conduct their ceremony.

  The elder had a bowl of mead in one hand and a bundle of fir twigs in the other. The twigs looked like nothing so much as a broom. He rose it up, down, then flicked it laterally, spraying Eliza, Kelnar and the front row of people with tiny droplets of mead.

  There were no vows. No Viking would allow themselves to be ensorcelled in such a manner.

  “Will you keep this sword for our son?” Kelnar asked.

  “Yes.”

  He passed it to her, hilt first. A simple gold ring glittered on the hilt. Eliza took it, and let Kelnar set it on her finger.

  “Will you defend me and our children with this sword?” Eliza asked, presenting him the sword Ingrid had carried.

  “To my last breath.”

  She slipped his ring onto this finger. They linked arms and turned toward the audience.

  Eliza turned, caught Kelnar by the chin and pulled him for a deep, satisfying kiss.

  A great cheer rose up, and Eliza knew she was finally home.

 

 

 


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