by Ceri Bladen
Astrid gave a large huff and closed her cloak. “Of course, it is. Are you calling me an easy bedmate?”
“Of course not, Astrid. I would never disrespect you.” He stopped talking when she gave a short snort. He tutted. “Thór’s teeth, regardless of what you think, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Come back to me then,” she said, touching his arm.
He waved her hand off and shook his head vigorously. “How can you ask, when it is my marriage day?” He snorted his disgust. “I’m with Rosfrith and I intend to stay with her for the rest of my life.” He looked down at her protruding stomach. “But, if it is my child, I will take care of it,” - he looked up at her - “and you. That’s all I can offer you.”
“You will claim it as your own kin?”
Ubba’s brows came together. “You question my word?”
Astrid’s gaze flicked towards the wedding gathering inside.
Ubba let out a huff of frustration. “Don’t go there, Astrid. I never spoke the words. You and your brother assumed I would marry you.” He straightened to his full height. “Now, I have to go back to my wife. I suggest you don’t - so I can talk to her first.” His eyes narrowed on her when she looked indecisive. “Astrid. I mean it. I will accept the barn, but I will not if you make trouble. You will be responsible for it then. It’s not what I want, but don’t test me.” With that, he turned on his heels and left her standing in the dark.
Astrid’s hand clutched her tunic, as anger and fear fought within her. The stubborn part of her wanted to defy his command, the sensible part of her knew that he wasn’t someone she wanted as an enemy. A movement to her side made her squint into the darkness. “Oh, Brynhild.” She glanced quickly from where she had come from and wondered if she’d overheard her conversation with Ubba.
“Lady,” she said, giving a brief nod. Although she thought nothing of Astrid, she was still born higher than she, and she was expected to show reverence. When Astrid moved to go, Brynhild put out her hand to stop her. “Pardon me.”
Astrid glanced down onto the dirty hand on her arm. She hoped it wouldn’t leave a stain on her garments, farm dirt could be difficult to wash off. When she looked back up, she raised her eyebrows in question.
“Um, sorry to disturb you, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the chieftain.”
Astrid’s lips thinned.
“Not that I was being nosy, but…” She furtively checked their surroundings. “I think I know someone who can help you.”
“No one can.” Astrid dismissed the grubby woman’s words.
“Well, if you can give me some time to explain, I believe you will change your mind.”
Astrid thought for a moment, before deciding she had nothing to lose.
#
Ubba watched Hilde guide Rosfrith to the back of the longhouse and felt the tension of Astrid’s confession flee his muscles. He would have to deal with it later, now his attention was on his wife. He smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling. His new wife was being taken to his bed-closet. Normally as part of the bride-price, bruðkaup,the new bride would come with her own bed, linens, and bedclothes. Some primal instinct stirred deep within Ubba. He was glad she was in his bed-box, not one from her family. It suited him fine.
When he surveyed the celebrations, he caught sight of Astrid. His jaw tightened and he tore his gaze away. For the briefest of moments, exasperation raged through him. She had disobeyed him by joining the celebrations. He controlled his response, not wanting to engage and make a scene. Now wasn’t the time.
He looked back towards his bed-closet and suddenly an image of Rosfrith filled him with an incredible desire to see her with their child clinging to her tunic. She would make a fine mother to his children, that was for sure. He have to tell Rosfrith about Astrid, but this wasn’t the night. A noise brought his gaze towards Sigurd, Eirik, Asmund, and many others. They were all grinning at him like fools.
“Time?” said Sigurd.
Ubba couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Ay.” He stood and put Astrid out of his thoughts. He followed Sigurd, who held a torch high in the air, lighting their way. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t find his way - even drunk, he could crawl there - but it was tradition to light the way on a wedding night. When they reached the door, they made enough noise to wake the dead.
Feeling excited, Ubba watched Sigurd push it open. He faltered. In the middle of his bed sat Rosfrith. She looked stunning. She had goldgubber, small gold plaques depicting the embracing figures of Freyr and Gerd, around her. On her head sat a bridal crown. He noticed her nervously glance at the witnesses. He entered the room and walked over to the bed, a large smile on his face. He bent and gently removed the crown, tossing it onto the floor. “You won’t be needing that until the morning.” He ignored the cheer, for the simple act of removing her headdress had many connotations - ones he couldn’t wait to try out. He put one knee on the bed and leaned forward to kiss her on her lips. He took his time. Once he felt his blood start to hum, he turned his head and narrowed his gaze. “Right, you lot…” he waved his hand around. “You need to leave. I have business to attend to.”
Hilde helped to shoo the rowdy, merry witnesses out, before shutting the door. “Mistress?” she said, liking the way it sounded.
“Ay, Hilde?”
“Remember your dreams tonight. Tomorrow the Seer will decipher them.” Her eyes flicked from Hilde to Ubba, and back. “She will inform you of the number of children you will have, the fortune of your marriage, and the destiny of your descendants.”
“Oh,” Rosfrith whispered, not sure about her visit to the oracle. As a thrall, she’d never been permitted before.
Ubba glanced over his shoulder and grunted at Hilde. “Leave.” He wanted to be alone with his wife and he wasn’t planning on her having much time to dream.
A noise from outside their bed-closet had Rosfrith open her eyes. She was disappointed to notice that Ubba was already up and dressed.
“Morning, my love.” He leaned down to give her a kiss. “I wish I could get back in there with you,” he sighed, “But Hilde has made enough noise to warn us that they are on their way.” He straightened back up to finish putting his belt on.
“Who?” Rosfrith’s eyes darted to the closed door, and she pulled the furs up to hide her nakedness.
“Only your attendants.” He turned to look at her. The look he gave sent shivers down her body. “No males will see my wife in such a…” he paused, “pleasing way.”
She let out a chuckle when he jumped back on the bed, using his body to push her back onto furs. He kissed her thoroughly. Only the opening of the door broke their contact. “See you later, wife.” He kissed her on the end of her nose, before jumping off the bed. For one so large, he moved swiftly.
Once Ubba had left, Hilde waved a couple of the women, who’d helped with the bathing, into the chamber. They were carrying various clothes. “Come on, let’s get the mistress dressed. We need to braid her hair.” Hilde looked behind her, motioning for one of the young women to come forward. She looked back at Rosfrith. “This is your hustrulinet.”
Rosfrith looked at the long, snow-white, pleated linen cloth, which would now be her headdress. Hilde also showed her a woven fillet, which it would be pinned to. It was beautiful – the metallic brocade threads were very fine.
“Come on, up now, mistress. There are no men in here to see you.” She jested as she pulled back the furs off Rosfrith.
Rosfrith followed Hilde into the hall. Ubba already sat in his chair. His eyes lit up when he noticed her. He stood, extending his arm towards her, and addressed the witnesses, gathered inside. “Welcome to the new mistress of Ranaricii.” He turned back in her direction and bowed from the waist down. “From this day hence, she is to be given the same respect as you grant me, your Chieftain.” He glanced around at the crowd and nodded in satisfaction, confident that his new wife would have no problems - regardless of their thoughts about a thrall, or even an
English-born becoming a mistress, he was confident enough that they were wise enough to keep it to themselves. He turned to address the witnesses again. “Before I bestow my wife her morning-gifts, her morgen-gifu, I would like you to have these.”
When he stretched out his arm, Rosfrith took the keys he held, for various locks around his house, from his hand. It was a high compliment to hold them. “Thank you, husband.” She tied them to her belt.
“Nay, thank you for becoming my wife.” His eyebrows raised suggestively when her cheeks flushed when she caught the look of knowing in his eyes. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Come, come look at what I want to give you.”
“It’s too much, Ubba,” Rosfrith muttered, looking at the new clothes, jewellery, household goods, livestock, and thralls he had gifted her.”
A noise rumbled in his chest. “But, it’s not all, I have some land for you, too. We’ll look at it later.”
Rosfrith’s brow puckered. “But I have no dowry to give you, my husband.” Conscious of that fact, she looked towards the floor, until his finger gently pulled her face back towards him.
“I don’t care for a heiman fylgia. Since a child, your home has been here. What could you bring with you to the marriage,” - he put two fingers on her lips to silence her - “but love.” He removed his fingers and replaced them with a gentle kiss. “Come, let us break our fast for I have a longing to go back to bed.”
#
Ubba stood up from their bed and tied his belt. He swallowed hard. It was now or never. He turned back towards Rosfrith, smiling at him from within the furs, and nearly changed his mind. “Um,” he faltered. “Um…Rosfrith, my love, I have something to talk to you about.” His throat was suddenly parched and dry. How am I going to tell her? He thought. She looks too merry to dismay her with the news.
A frown briefly fluttered on her forehead before she gave him a glorious smile. “What, dear husband?” Even though he seemed troubled, it couldn’t be that bad.
He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. He had to stand up to his responsibilities, he could do no less. He wiped his damp palms on his tunic before starting. “I have news of Astrid.” He could see her tense, her smile fading instantly.
“What of her?” she hoped her voice sounded nonchalant.
“She came to speak to me the day of our wedding.”
A frown creased her forehead. “Why haven’t you spoken of this before?”
“Because we are on our honeymoon,” he growled with frustration. “And I didn’t want her invading our time.”
Rosfrith got up from the bed, wrapping a fur around her, and stepped forward, putting a hand on his chest, in an attempt to calm him. Whatever her news, it had him wound up. Although she felt her pulse race, her face didn’t betray her emotions.
“She is with barn.”
Rosfrith was shocked, not expecting that news. Instinctively, she wanted to remove her hand from him, but she kept it there, levelling him a look. She didn’t particularly want to know the answer to her next question. “Is it yours?”
Ubba grabbed her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Ay, she says it is.” He let go when he felt Rosfrith pull away. He panicked. “But I’m not sure.” She turned away, but he wisely stayed silent.
“Please, give me a moment.” She rubbed her hands together while she thought. If she was in the same situation as Astrid, which she could easily be, how would she expect Ubba to react? She swallowed her pride and jealousy. She had to be level-headed - whether her heart wanted her to be or not. She turned back around towards him. “Where is she?”
“She left after the wedding and is back in Skåne with Gunnar and his family.” He shifted from one foot to another, uncomfortable with the situation he had put his new wife in.
“You must make arrangements for her to come back to Ranaricii.”
“But it was her choice to leave.”
“Only because of our marriage and she told you she was with child,” she raised a questioning eyebrow, “I assume.” She sighed when he nodded. “You must bring her back and talk to Astrid, Ubba. Like it or not, she carries your barn.” She ignored his grunt and carried on talking. “If I understand your customs, if you don’t accept the child, it will not be recognised as a person. Can you do that to your own flesh and blood?”
“How do I know it is mine?”
Rosfrith’s eyes narrowed on her husband. “She swears it is, and you and everyone else will have to take her word.” Rosfrith sighed, the fight leaving her. “Astrid was your bedmate before me,” she said quietly before walking across the bedchamber. Once she reached Ubba, she placed her hands on his chest. “Do you think I like the thought of my husband having a baby with another?”
Ubba felt his chest tighten. This wasn’t how he thought his honeymoon would be starting off. “I’m sorry, Rosfrith.”
She shook her head. “Nay, don’t be sorry. I knew you had bedmates before me,” she gave a wry smile before her eyebrow lifted. “Plenty of them, I might add.”
“But they didn’t mean anything to me. Not like you.”
She gave a short laugh because his voice was strained. “I know. But regardless, they are in the past. But,” she paused and looked at her hands sprayed on his chest. “Astrid is not. And, if she and the barn survive the birth, you will have to support them. Regardless of how I feel.”
Ubba growled, knowing his new wife was right. Whatever he felt about Astrid, if he accepted the baby as his, he would have to support them. If he didn’t, Astrid would receive nothing and would have to be looked after by her family. He would never treat Astrid harshly, but, he didn’t want to discuss it, at the moment. “We will finish discussing this, tomorrow.” Reaching down, he removed his pouch from his belt. “I want to give you this.” He opened it and his large fingers reached in to retrieve a tiny necklace with a wolf trinket hanging off it.
“Aw, Ubba, you have given me far too many gifts already.”
A smile touched his eyes. “But I like giving my wife gifts.” He motioned with his hand for her to turn around. “Here let me put it on.”
When it was on her neck, she fingered it. “I love it Ubba, and will always wear it. It will remind me of you.”
#
“Lady, lady Rosfrith.”
Rosfrith turned from the summer flowers and noticed a young lad running towards her, waving his hands. She didn’t recognise him. Wary, she took a quick look towards the docks. There were new sails, flapping in the breeze, but that wasn’t unusual - items were brought back and forth from England regularly. Mayhap, the child was from across the seas.
“Lady Rosfrith, I have a missive for you,” the lad spluttered out, searching for breath. “The man said he would give me double coin if I got it to you as fast as possible.”
A frown crossed Rosfrith’s forehead. “Is it for me, or the chieftain?”
“You,” the lad said, and then forced himself to straighten up. “The gentleman said it was only to be given to you.”
Rosfrith flicked a glance back towards the ship. “What man?”
Looking quickly over his shoulder, he chuckled. “He isn’t here. I’ve come with the merchant boat from East Angles.”
She felt her heart rate accelerate at the mention of her former home.
“And was given it over there. We have been at sea for months, due to the storms, but I remember it all…”
After he recited the message, Rosfrith didn’t hear the rest of the lad’s tales of adventures on the seas. She turned and quickly made her way to the longhouse. She needed to be alone to work out what to say to her husband.
Ubba and his companions walked back to the village. He laughed at their comments and jests about married life and his duties. He wasn’t offended at their banter, he was proud to be married to Rosfrith and wasn’t shy about showing it. In fact, the morning hunt was filled with merriment, but he still couldn’t wait to get back to her. Even without their endless comments about married life, she hadn’t left his thoughts
for long. “Right men, you take the kill to the cooks, I’m off.”
Eirik stepped forward. “It’s market day, Sire. Do you need me to come with you?”
Ubba raised his eyebrows, a small smirk flitting on his lips. “To take my wife to my bed-closet?”
The group laughed. It was the first time he’d seen Eirik redden in front of the others.
“Um,” Eirik spluttered out, then received a playful nudge in his ribs.
“I’ll see you all, later.” Ubba turned and walked towards the main longhouse, eager to find his wife.
From the bed, Rosfrith smiled when Ubba entered their room. “You haven’t hunted for long, husband.”
He rushed over to give her a kiss. “Hmm, I wonder why?”
When he sat on the bed, her smiled faded. “I have received a missive, Ubba.” Despite her resolution to be strong, she felt her mouth dry.
He paused from pulling his shoe off. He looked around as his eyes narrowed. She was acting peculiar. “From who?” It was highly unusual for her to receive one. He tensed when he saw her nervously biting her bottom lip.
“My Papa. Well, my brother, really. My Papa is ill.”
Ubba grunted and went back to tending to his boots. He sensed her move towards him, along the bed, but said nothing. When her hands began to massage his shoulders, he knew she was preparing to ask him something. Again, he kept quiet.
“My brother doesn’t think he will be alive for very long.”
Before replying, he let the silence stretch, contemplating what she said. “Why should you care? They thought nothing of you in Briton, and you’ve heard nothing since. They didn’t even bother to reply to my missive, asking for your hand in marriage.” He noticed her hands still, so he turned to face her. “I’m sorry, I never meant for you to find out. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Rosfrith chest tightened before she sighed. “That’s all right. I should have realised.” Ubba was truthful - she hadn’t heard anything from either since they had refused to pay Ivar coin for her release. She looked at Ubba, her only true family. Her chest tightened - her thoughts bothered her. They are my kin. I might never see my Papa again.