by Jacky Gray
He paused at the collective intake of breath. “We have recently uncovered evidence which will identify this murderer; we are just waiting for a search to confirm the owner of an item found at the scene.”
As the spontaneous burst of applause died away, Dennon danced his way across, somewhat less elegantly, and sang his request to speak his truth in a voice which made people wince. He faced the crowd and thankfully spoke in a normal voice. “You may have heard Magister Domenyk giving his reason for choosing Jarl as the Fool due to his failure on a recent mission. What you don’t know, is that this mission was a fabrication devised by someone on the council.” Another intake of breath; another pause.
“A villain who paid a group of mercenaries to create an ambush resulting in the death of a good captain and severe injury to several others, including myself.”
Again a pause for the shock to ripple through. “And, in addition, Jarl risked his life to save one of the men. For his troubles, he was maimed by a crossbow quarrel which almost ended his life.”
This time, the applause did not die away, even as Alfun danced his way to the throne. Jarl’s upraised hand requested, and got, sufficient silence for Alfun to sing his request. “I am pleased to say, after all this tragedy, that my truth will make you all want to sing. At dawn today, I attended the secret handfasting of two very dear friends of mine, who would now like to celebrate the event with all their friends.”
As he spoke, Ranly danced the short distance to take Senna’s hand and escorted her in a stately promenade to Jarl. They both bowed, and Ranly unclasped her cloak, revealing the simple white kirtle Lyrelie and her friends had transformed into a wedding gown fit for a queen.
As he clasped their hands together, Ranly sang, “I give you your King of Fools and his Winter Queen.”
At that moment, the doors opened, and an army of women, led by Paulina and Dagda, brought in the Yule feast to end all Yule feasts.
~~***~~
Epilogue: A Fine Romance
So, as everyone tucks into their sumptuous wedding feast, it falls to me, Lyran (your friendly ghost), to tie up any loose ends you may perceive. If you enjoyed the story, or have something to say, please leave a comment.
Q1 Did Domenyk get what was coming to him?
What do you think? In an ideal world, they would prove his guilt for everything bad in the village and throw away the key. But not yet. Meanwhile, I want you to think of a suitable punishment in your head and have that happen. Better still; let the author know so she can nick it for use to punish the next evil monster.
You can find out what actually happens in the next story in this series, 8 Sabbats of the Year. I hope this leaves you with a nice satisfied feeling.
Q2 How come we didn’t get to see the Handfasting?
Bless. I love a good wedding. Be patient, it’s coming.
Q3 Who does Senna love most, Lyran or Jarl?
Well, really. That’s not for me to say (modesty forbids). You’d have to ask her.
~~***~~
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading this story; I hope you enjoyed reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it.
A couple of readers expressed a desire to witness the secret ceremony, so I wrote it and sent it to them. Then they asked for more about Lyran, so I wrote the prequel book 3 Handfastings and a Burial to satisfy them.
I’ve included Senna and Jarl’s ceremony here
Thank you
Jacky Gray
I would love to hear your suggestions and am happy to answer your questions via the newsletter/Facebook.
Senna and Jarl’s Handfasting
Shivering despite the fur-lined cloak, Senna watched the moon sinking toward the horizon, delighting in the silvery glow which turned Avebury’s moon circle into an enchanted place. As she stamped her feet, her winter boots crunched the frosting of ice on the grass. The sharp aromas of pine and yew needles pierced the underlying earthy smell.
The presence of the full moon brought with it a welcome burst of favourable energy, convincing everyone involved that this union was blessed by the forces of nature. She remembered her next door neighbour, Cora’s, reaction when she told her the news.
“Finally! I wondered when you would see the light. Alfun and I had bets on how long it would take you two to get together. Now, I’m privileged to witness the handfasting of my best friend, and my husband’s best friend. ’Tis truly a heaven-made match.”
Returning to the cold, moonlit night, Senna stole a glance at her husband-to-be. Jarl’s Viking heritage showed in the rugged blond looks; his strong jaw and steadfast bearing attesting to his undeniable strength of character. Although he’d tamed his hair and dressed in his finest tabard, she could not help but visualise a different image from a few days earlier, with a tangled mane, blood-sodden clothes and wild eyes. Suppressing a shudder, Senna tried not to think of the broken man who’d collapsed at her door, badly injured and facing death at the hands of his malicious enemy, Domenyk. A shake cleared her head of that thought – she would not allow the viper’s name to intrude on such a joyful occasion.
Indeed, she knew that if the magister had any inkling about this secret ceremony, he would be doing his utmost to sabotage it in some way.
“Cold?” Jarl’s strong arm drew her closer to where his body enveloped her with its fiery heat.
“I’ll live. How’s your shoulder?”
His shrug resulted in a wince, and she berated herself for causing the discomfort.
“I’ll live.” He repeated her words with a wry grin.
Snuggling into his warmth, she assured herself it had nothing to do with the fever which had rendered him weak as a mewling babe. The crossbow wound had been a parting gift from the magister’s band of marauding thugs, sent to ambush Jarl’s troop. An unwelcome reminder of the military lifestyle he’d given up for her.
But she had no time to worry about Jarl’s health as the Archdruid called everyone’s attention back to the purpose of their gathering.
“My good people,” he began. “Senna and Jarl thank you for joining them on this dawn of a new and wonderful day. They feel blessed to have you near as they stand at the dawning of their new lives as loving partners joined in wedlock.”
As he described the role of family and friends in supporting a newly-wedded couple, Senna caught the eye of each person there, sending a mental message of gratitude for the part they played in her life.
First came Lyrelie; more of a friend than a daughter. She’d recently lost the anxious appearance of a youngster scared to take her place in a world which her father, Lyran, no longer lit with his ready smile. That girl had been replaced by a confident young woman, secure in the knowledge she was loved by her family and friends, and respected by many in the village for her burgeoning talents as a healer and midwife.
Next to her stood Lyralie’s best friend, Cora’s oldest child, Freya. Her needlework skills and artistic talents had transformed Senna’s simple white smock into a wedding dress which would not look out of place on a queen.
Alfun winked as he stood between his daughter and wife, towering over the pair of them, linking both their arms. He beamed with the satisfaction of a caring husband and proud father.
Cora blew a kiss in Senna’s direction, then smiled fondly at her giant of a husband, squeezing his arm. He responded by freeing that arm to kiss her hand.
Dennon, Jarl’s deputy on many missions, noticed the gesture and did the same to his wife, Marena. She blushed like a maid at her first Beltane instead of the mother of three children, the youngest of whom had popped into the world a week ago. With Senna’s help.
Although a tiny gathering, all the people dearest to them were here. Shyness overtook Senna as she faced Jarl, her late husband’s best friend.
As though hearing his name, Lyran whispered so only she could hear. “You have my blessing, both of you.”
She’d waited to hear those words for many days; in fact, exactly twelve. For
it was only then her eyes had been opened to the idea of Jarl taking her husband’s place. As he’d promised Lyran on his handfasting to Senna seventeen years earlier. Her mind drifted back, and she could not help but compare the two occasions.
Every aspect was utterly opposed: She’d married Lyran in the warmth of midsummer, the mid-day sun melting the guests thronged around the sun circle. The entire village had donned their finery to celebrate the binding, with several people delivering tributes praising the couple’s gentle natures and unending generosity.
The ceremony had involved a blending of red and white wines, followed by an intricate cording, knotting five different colours. They’d exchanged long, detailed vows before jumping the bonfire.
A complete contrast to today.
Uncoiling the simple hemp rope they’d chosen to signify the strength and fidelity between them, the Archdruid beckoned them to approach.
Jarl released her and, for the first time since they’d met as juniors, she registered an unfamiliar expression. His eyes were not crinkled with humour, compassion did not quirk the corner of his mouth, and anger did not darken his skin. His features had tightened with something she could only interpret as uncertainty.
She rocked backward, her brain dulled by the notion that he regretted the hasty decision. Did he not want her after all? Had she mistaken his friendliness for something stronger?
“Stop that thought right now, both of you.” Lyran’s voice sounded loud in her ears. “Senna. Jarl loves you.”
A short pause where Jarl’s reaction suggested he, too, listened to an inner voice.
“Behave yourselves. Get on with it before your guests freeze to death.”
Placing her hand in Jarl’s, she witnessed her relief reflected in his gaze.
Unaware of any hitch, the Archdruid positioned them so their right hands gripped each other’s wrists. He bade them gaze into each other’s eyes as he wrapped the cord around her hand and Jarl’s forearms.
He addressed each in turn with the age-old questions. “Senna. Will you share in Jarl’s pain and burdens, seeking to alleviate them?”
She smiled deep into Jarl’s eyes. “I will.”
“Jarl. Will you share in Senna’s pain and burdens, seeking to alleviate them?”
“I will.” He copied her loving gaze.
“And so the first binding is made. “As he spoke, the Archdruid tied a knot, then crossed the two ends of the cord over and under their clasped arms.
At the next question, about using the heat of anger to temper the strength of the union, Jarl’s eyes flicked downward for an instant before he matched her steady gaze and unwavering answer.
The Archdruid completed the second knot. Subsequent questions became easier as he asked them to share in each other’s laughter, looking for the brightness and positive. On the fourth knot, they promised to share in each other’s dreams so their spirits might grow in the marriage.
The final knot bound Jarl’s hand to her arm as they agreed to honour each other as equals in the union.
The Archdruid entreated the elements and deities to bless these hands in their quest to nurture and support each other. He smiled at the couple. “I now invite you to commit your vows and seal them with an exchange of rings, whose perfect circle represents eternity.”
Senna vowed to listen without judging, speak with kindness and forgive whenever necessary.
Jarl promised to honour, cherish and respect her.
Her second vow had taken a while to get right, and she hoped he understood her meaning. “Jarl. I will always accord you with the same level of honesty, trust and gentleness I demand from myself.”
A spark in his eyes said he’d recognised her unwillingness to apportion blame about the trust issues which prevented them from coming together sooner. He squeezed her arm subtly as he vowed to be generous with his time, affection and understanding.
“Jarl. I promise to love, support and care for you for the rest of our days.” Senna took the ring Cora offered, pushing when it stuck at his knuckle.
As they’d discussed, Jarl pledged the same, adding, “no matter what life may throw at us.” He fumbled with the ring Alfun offered, nearly dropping it. His hand warmed hers as he slipped it easily on her cold finger. Then he defied tradition, kissing her hand to delighted chuckles.
As the officiant pronounced them married, the sun broke through the misty clouds to turn their first moments of married life into a haze of golden beauty.
~~***~~
Glossary
Altar cake
Used to ground energies after ceremony
Archdruid
Chief Druid who led rituals (Archbishop)
Barding
Contest to find best poet/singer/tale-teller
Battle bundle
Herbs to heal wounds and stop pain
to beard
to challenge/confront
Beltane
Mayday – celebration on 1st May
Bodhran
Celtic hand-held drum
Bonfiring
Ceremony to bless fields for new season
Breeches
Trousers (pants)
Chemise
Loose cotton (under) shirt
Childermas
Feast of Holy Innocents – 28th Dec
Clove-gifting
Celebration giving gifts to the poor
Dais
Raised platform or stage
(Crystal) Elixir
Made by placing crystals in water
Esbat
Celebration of the Moon
Faggot
Collection of twigs used to kindle a fire
Frumenty pud
Like Christmas pudding
Gittern
Stringed instrument, similar to a guitar
Glamour
Spell cast to change a person’s appearance
Grape-vining
Dance step: Two lines of people weaving
Handfasting
Marriage ceremony
Herfest
Autumn Equinox (Harvest) – 21st Sept
Holly King
Reigns during Winter
Hooden horse
Terrifying beast used by mummers
Imbolc
Candlemas – 1st Feb
Kirtle
Dress
Litha
Midsummer Solstice – 21st Jun
Lughnasadh
Lammas – harvest festival – 1st Aug
Magister
An official with training in the law
Michael line
Ley lines which run across the country
Mincen parcels
Mince pies
Mummer
Travelling actor
Ostara
Spring Equinox (Easter) – 21st Mar
Periwig
Wig
Pike
Tool/weapon with pointed metal head
Poultice
Herb mix in soft, bread-based solution
Quarrel
Bolt from a crossbow
Rennet
Milk pudding
Sabbat
Celebration of the Sun
Samhain
Halloween –31st October
Saturnalia
Ancient Roman celebration
Sluice pail
For rinsing hands
Snood
Net covering hair
Solstice
When the sun is at its extreme
Sunwise
Clockwise (aka Deosil)
Swaddling
Thin sheet for wrapping new-born babies
Sweetmeat
Small, edible delicacy
Tabard
Sleeveless jacket, worn over a tunic
Thrawl stone
Used to keep food cold
Trug
Shallow woven basket
Tunic
Like a shirt or jumper
Wassailing
Wassail (also Waes Hael) is a spiced cider
Wet-nurse
Surrogate mother for suckling new-borns
Wheel
Ancient word for year
Widdershins
Anticlockwise
Yule
Winter Solstice – 21st December
Acknowledgements
Thank you to everyone who has helped me to believe in myself – without you, my stories would never have lived outside of my imagination and my computer’s hard drive.
Special thanks to the following – you know the part you played and words cannot express my gratitude: Paula, Karen, Icy, Alice, Kim, Hannah, Ace, Sho, JD, and Janice. Even when you think it’s good, there’s always room for improvement – grateful thanks for your excellent wisdom and advice to my lovely Beta readers, Joanne, Sheila, Corine, Bernie, Nadine, Debby and Norman. And a huge thanks to the lovely World Wise Writers and 10K Angels for their constant support and encouragement.
But the biggest thanks have to go to you, dear reader.
Thank You
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