Desire's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 2)
Page 12
“The gods judge men’s hearts. Evil is rewarded with suffering. Goodness with honor. As much as I loathe this man, and would sooner cut him down for being the cause of so much bloodshed, I must remain impartial. The law is clear. Weregild will be paid to the families of the victims. Additionally, Markkos, the reindeer herder, will pledge five of his family members, be it brothers, sisters, or cousins, into my service as thralls. He is a coward, and hid behind the mantle of Jarl Magnus, letting his warriors commit murder at his behest. For this…” Roald raised his hand and two men carrying glowing branding irons appeared. “He will be marked forever as a coward and criminal. On his left cheek, the symbol of a man shamed, and on his right, the mark of banishment.”
Eva gasped as two guards took ahold of Markkos, positioning him so the men with the irons could scar him.
She turned her head and cried out when Markkos screamed in pain. She must accept his fate. He must live with the consequences of his actions.
The smell of singed flesh made her throw up. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and watched as the second iron was pressed against Markkos’s cheek. He fainted, but the guards held him up.
“If Markkos ever shows his face in the lowlands again, he will pay with his life. Every Norseman, highborn and commoner alike, recognize the symbols of banishment this man now wears. He will be escorted to the mountains where the gods will deal with him thereafter.” In time, the true murderer would pay with his life—Jarl Magnus would suffer a slow death. Roald folded his hands over his stomach, his decree final.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eva had asked for time to recover from the shock of everything. Roald never imagined it would take six long weeks. But it had. She withdrew to the women’s quarters and didn’t show her face for a sennight. And when she did make a brief appearance, she didn’t look at or talk to him. He had feared the worst, knowing she might reject him after dealing so harshly with her brother.
But his mind was put at ease when she sent a missive three days ago, announcing her intention to take vows with him today by the river. Neutral ground, she’d written, a place where both their gods could preside over their wedding.
Dressed in his best leather breeches and a black tunic, the ceremonial sword representing his jarldom hanging at his hip, and a golden crown upon his head, Roald waited at the edge of the river for his bride to come to him. Flower petals covered the pathway where Eva would step, and was lined with well-wishers on both sides.
Konal and Silvia stood to his left, Runa and Haakon on his right. But the best surprise was the aged woman with white hair sitting behind the fire out of sight. Eva’s mother had traveled a great distance to witness her daughter’s wedding.
A bonfire had been constructed yesterday. The flames burned hot and bright, lighting the evening sky.
“Are you nervous?” Konal asked, slapping his back affectionately.
“Nay,” he said, but truth be told, he felt like a boy again.
Music started to play then, the melodic sound of the flutes signaled the arrival of the bride. Roald tugged at his collar and swallowed hard as six maidens appeared at the front of the procession, holding bouquets of wildflowers. As they reached the place where Roald stood, each curtsied and stepped aside.
That’s when he saw her, his sweet Eva, dressed in sky blue silk that hugged her generous curves. Her silky, blond mane shimmered in the firelight, unbound. The same colored flowers the maids had carried adorned her hair. She walked slow and deliberate, head held high.
Nothing could have prepared him for this moment, for she took his breath away. So pure-hearted and beautiful, and she belonged to him now. He smiled when she met his gaze, wanting to reassure her how much he loved her. She offered her hand and he took it, promising himself he’d never let go again.
A priest blessed them both, laying hands on Eva first, then him. “Speak this vow as I do,” the holy man instructed.
Hail the day great Odin.
Hail the night powerful Thor.
Hail the marriage bed lovely Frigg.
Bless these lovers forevermore.
Grant them peace and understanding.
Patience and genuine affection.
Bless them with kindness and loyalty.
And children to ease their suffering in old age.
Let war not reach these shores.
Only the joy of peaceful times.
And when Allfather calls his servant home,
let not his wife be far behind.
Hail the sun, moon, and stars.
And everything green upon the earth.
Hail the birds in the sky, the animals that walk and crawl, and the fish in the sea.
Life is a gift, meant to be celebrated by all.
Great and small.
Hail our blessed ancestors.
Spirits of the realms.
Bless us with wisdom and courage.
Forgive us if we disappoint.
We are lesser creatures than the gods.
But an integral part of the universe, whose mysteries are ever guarded.
Hail husband.
Hail wife.
Hail love.
Forever bound.
The wedding poem symbolized both their faiths, something they’d agreed to do after Eva had accepted his proposal.
“Do you swear to love this woman for all of your days, Jarl Roald?”
“Aye,” he said.
“Lady Eva, do you swear to love this man for all of your days?”
“Aye,” she said.
The priest once again laid hands on them. “You are forever united.”
Roald tugged Eva into his arms, desperate to taste her. It had been too long. Six bloody weeks since he’d even smelled the soft fragrance of her hair. “You are my wife, Eva.”
“Aye,” she said, her eyes luminous. “And you are my husband.”
“Master,” he teased.
“Master,” she repeated, then locked her arms around his neck. “Stop talking, Jarl Roald. Kiss me.”
Just as his lips grazed hers, the sound of a steady drum beat came. Eva stiffened, her face turned toward the fire. At first she didn’t understand, but Roald whispered. “My mother-in-law is hiding behind the pyre, ready to hug her daughter.”
“Impossible. My mother has never left the mountains.”
“Believe me, sweet one.” This time he didn’t give her a chance to deflect the kiss. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, desire’s fury setting him on fire. “You made me wait six weeks to touch you.”
“I’m sorry.” She looked up at him. “I needed time to mourn the loss of my brother and his fall from grace. I never doubted your mercy, Roald, or your ability to be fair. If I did, we wouldn’t be standing here together.”
“Aye,” he said. “If it makes it any better, Markkos is healing.”
“My mother is the best noaidi in this part of the world.”
“I disagree,” he said, placing her small hand over his heart. “You healed my bitterness without even trying.”
“I have another gift for you.”
What could she possibly have left to give? He owned her heart and body, as she did his. “Tell me.”
She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear. “I am with child.”
Roald’s mouth dropped open. Now he would be complete. “Tis truth? You are not teasing me, Eva?”
“No, milord. Life grows inside me.”
He couldn’t resist hooting with joy. Then he swept her up and turned to the crowd. “I am going to be a father.”
His family, friends, and servants clapped. Then the music stopped and Roald turned with Eva in his arms so she could see the fire. Her mother emerged with a smile on her face.
“The gods have doubly blessed me,” her mother said. “I have gained a son today, and now a grandchild.”
Eva slid from Roald’s arms and embraced her mother. “I love you.”
“And I love you, child. Forever.”
Violetta Rand, Desire's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 2)