Magnus drained his cup and poured another draft. When Silvi and he had stood in the grove, and the storm had moved over them, she’d appeared to become a part of it, as though she were welcoming its majesty into her. Straight and proud, she’d faced it with no fear. She hadn’t appeared so weak then, standing against the gale. Was it only around him that she was uncertain of herself?
“So when will the wedding be?” Leif stretched. “I want an excuse to drink myself under the table.”
Magnus chuckled. “Since when do you need an excuse to do that? I don’t think we have to wait. We delayed Eirik’s wedding to Asa because we’d lost warriors at the battle and had to honor them with the sjaund. We have no reason to wait now. I’d say next Frigga’s day.”
“That’s only five days from now,” Leif said. “Shouldn’t we invite Rorik?”
“It would take a long time to get a message there and back again.” Eirik shook his head. “Besides, he’s most likely already out plundering someplace.”
“Or someone.” Leif grinned.
“True.” Eirik regarded Magnus. “I know you need my ships. Right after the wedding, I’ll go to Haardvik and prepare them and bring them back. It might take a little time because I wasn’t planning on sailing this year. Before we left to come here, I gave my men the order to start overhauling the ships, so they should be well along by this time. Do you have all the provisions you’ll need for the weeklong celebration?”
“I think so, even though it’s early in the year. Usually we have weddings in the late summer when the crops are in, but we can’t wait. We’ll hunt, and I still have stores set by from the winter. We have honey from last year, so we can make mead.”
Eirik winced. “At least I won’t be the only one suffering.”
“The tradition is that you drink it with her, not all the time.”
“And when have I left her side? But she’s not here now.” He reached for the pitcher of beer.
Magnus joined in their laughter as Eirik refilled their cups. Five days. In only five days, Silvi would be his. He had to go to his storage buildings and find beautiful things to give her for the morning gift after their wedding night. With all the treasures he had collected throughout his travels, he should have no trouble finding enough to honor her. Through the years, he had gathered items from all over the world for this reason. Perhaps he’d bring Lifa with him, for she’d know what Silvi liked.
Then he had to make certain the women started baking and preparing for a week of feasting. He’d have to send word to the neighboring jarls, inviting them to come.
Toke would, no doubt, hear of the wedding, and he would also hear of Magnus’s new, powerful allies. Word of Silvi’s dowry would echo through the fjord from here to the sea. With the ships and the warriors Magnus would command, Toke would find the game was changing along the Sognefjorden.
And now, Magnus held all the pieces.
Chapter Six
“You have many lovely things, Magnus.” Lifa picked up a gold chalice. “You could have built a longship for what you have in here.”
“I’ve never considered it mine. My father began collecting it so Leif and I would have morning-after gifts for our future wives and dowries for our daughters. I’ve added to this over the years.”
“You’re a wise man.” She smiled as she ran her hand over a bolt of silk fabric.
She was still a beautiful woman. A feeling of calm followed her. Her light blue eyes were shaped much like Silvi’s, and both mother and daughter had the same graceful movements. She still had too much to give. No woman like her should remain alone.
“Where’s your bodyguard? I’ve never seen him apart from you.”
“Nuallen knows I’m quite safe with you. He’s enjoying your sauna.” She sniffed a bottle of perfume. “He’s been a great comfort to me since my husband died. The gods were right when they caused Eirik to save his life.”
“I know he was your slave, taken when Rorik attacked his lands in Northumbria.”
She set the bottle down and continued perusing the other items. “Eirik freed him for helping us win back Haardvik. He asked to be my guard. He takes it very seriously.”
“I don’t think he’s stayed with you out of a sense of duty. Perhaps I speak out of turn, but with the way he looks at you, stays near you, it’s obvious he loves you.”
She gave him a calm smile. “I know. But I loved my husband and it is still too soon. Our time will happen. Nuallen is a proud man. He won’t want to come to me with nothing, and right now, he has nothing. He is very deep minded. It is part of what draws me to him.”
Magnus had sensed that Nuallen was, indeed, deep minded and a lethal fighter. It lay in his way of moving, his stance, even in how he watched the world around him. And he had guarded Silvi as well, all winter. For that, he would always have Magnus’s deepest thanks, though he wasn’t entirely comfortable with how attentive Nuallen was to Silvi.
“Do you see anything here Silvi would like for her morning gift?”
“She’s a practical woman.” At Magnus’s dubious look, Lifa smiled. “In between visions. So many of these things are beautiful. What would she do with them? The material is too thin for our climate, unless it is made into something she wears for you in private. The gold plates are too soft to eat off of, and she’s never worn perfume.” She glanced sidelong at him. “Unless she would wear it for you. This fine linen, however, she could sew clothing with, for both of you. The soft leather would make beautiful shoes and gloves. And this white fur could be a warm cloak. She’d be dressed as befits a jarl’s wife. A very powerful jarl with three warships. Yes, these are what she would like.”
“No jewelry? Here are gold necklaces and rings.”
“The rings for your wedding. She could use these silver broaches to hold her clothing. And these flat purple gemstones. Perhaps Eirik could carve runes in them for her and she could use them to cast with. They would be beautiful. And powerful.”
“Then choose enough for yourself, Lifa, so that you may have a similar set. My gift to you for helping Silvi accept this marriage.”
“It’s not necessary, but I thank you. I’ll choose them later.” She narrowed her eyes and moved toward a small, ornate box. She picked it up and opened it.
He already knew what it held. A necklace of amethysts, carnelians, crystals, amber, lapis, and clear brilliant stones, all colors and shapes.
“Ah. Now this, she would want.” She held it up to the dim light coming from the open doorway. “Where did this come from?”
“I don’t know. It was one of the pieces my father brought back from his journeys when I was young. From somewhere in the distant East, I think. Or to the far south where there is only sand instead of ice.” He chuckled. “It doesn’t seem very appropriate for such a practical woman, though.”
“This is not for her practical side. This necklace holds power. I felt it even through the box. It’s very old, from a time so far past, we cannot imagine it. A time when the world was young. The power of the gods can channel through this. She would love it.”
The power of the gods? Would that be wise? Lifa thought so, and she had knowledge of such things.
“Give her this at the first meal after your wedding night, then the rest later.” She put the necklace back in the box. “There’s a balance in all of life, Magnus. The goods,” she said as she dropped it in his hands, “and the gods. Silvi must come to understand all this.” She indicated the piles of treasure. “And you need to learn there is more to us than swords and silver. We live in this world, but we must please the next one. It is only when you merge these things together, that you’ll have the balance you seek to become one with her.”
* * *
What bride thought of divorce at her own wedding? If they had an overbearing family like hers, probably plenty of them.
Silvi watched from her seat on the dais as Magnus plunged his new sword, the sword she had given him at their marriage ceremony, into one of the longhouse pillar
s. It sank in deep and true, attesting to his strength and prowess with a weapon. Just as he would plunge into her.
Her stomach shot fire through her body. Was it any wonder? She had to calm herself, and her face hurt from the smile she’d worn all day. A smile she didn’t feel.
Magnus had spared no expense to give her a wedding to remember. All the jarls and families from the entire region had come, and she’d heard their branch of the fjord was filled with ships of every kind. Everyone was dressed in their very finest clothing.
Married women of the village had steamed her in the sauna and rinsed her with cold water, washing away her old status as an unmarried woman while telling her of her duties as a wife. Lifa had brought her a new dress, deep blue, hemmed with tiny gems and belted with a beautiful woven ribbon. Two gold broaches held it at her shoulders. That Lifa just happened to have brought the dress with her only proved she and Eirik had conspired about this ahead of time.
Further proof came with the sword her brother produced for her to gift to Magnus at the ceremony. It was very fine and quite expensive. An exquisite weapon. He had to have brought it here from Haardvik.
She’d ridden to the sacred grove on a beautiful pure white mare, which Magnus had given to her afterward. He’d carried a hammer, which symbolized his mastery in their marriage. Eirik hadn’t done this, probably because Asa would have hit him with it, but Silvi had no such recourse. His father’s sword, which he’d given her in safekeeping for their future son, had been no less beautiful than the one she’d presented him with.
All through the ceremony, as they’d exchanged swords and rings, she’d thought of another ritual—the initiation she would have gone through to become a priestess. It should have happened long ago. Her heart panged. Perhaps this was just a short detour on the journey to her true destiny. Perhaps, as her mother had said, she needed to learn the ways of the world so she might help others live in it.
The pain in her stomach faded. Only a year. She needed to live here only a year to keep her word to her mother. She would be a good wife to Magnus and a good mistress to the village. She would learn of the things that mattered to others. Perhaps, once the threat from Toke was past, she could travel with Magnus. Go on a ship again. At that, excitement filled her.
“I would give your bride-price all over again to know what you’re smiling about, Wife.” Magnus sat down in the seat beside hers. He leaned closer and his clean scent washed over her. “And this time, it’s genuine.”
She’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t seen him approach her. “I don’t know what you mean, Magnus.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say husband. It wasn’t a word she’d ever thought she would use. “This is all so beautiful, the way the hall is decorated, the food you’ve had laid out, everyone cheering as you carried me over the threshold, into the longhouse. Any bride would be pleased.”
“And when you handed me the bridal ale in the kasa, your hands shook and your eyes were moist.”
“What woman wouldn’t be moved on her wedding day, Magnus? All the rituals and traditions are so powerful.”
He eyed her for a moment. “And yet there’s one we haven’t done that everyone is waiting for. Only then, will the festivities begin.” He stood and picked up the hammer that he had carried back from the ceremony. She stayed seated, her heart pounding. The guests quieted and watched them.
Magnus laid the hammer in her lap with great care. He caught her gaze. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. His voice rang out, though it seemed he spoke only to her. “I bring the hammer to the bride to bless. On the maiden’s lap I lay Mjölnir. In Frigga’s name, bless our marriage.”
Silvi listened as Magnus asked the goddess of childbearing to make their union fertile. While, in secret, she took herbs to prevent that. Her cheeks became cold, as though the blood drained from them. He studied her for another moment, then turned to the guests. “It is done. Now we celebrate.”
A great cheer went up and everyone rushed to the tables set along the side of the hall, to grab food and drink. Magnus lifted the hammer from her lap and set it aside. He held his hand out to her.
“May I take you to get something to eat?”
Often, her stomach felt better after she ate; though, if she were going to survive the upcoming night, she would have to ask her mother to make her the tea with ginger she drank to calm the fire.
They walked together to the laden tables. Everyone crowded around them, laughing and congratulating them. Asa embraced her while Eirik pounded Magnus on the back, welcoming him to the family, again. Lifa watched her from the side and they gave each other a sad smile. If only her father had been here for this day.
The people around her strengthened her resolve. Haardvik’s very survival depended on the agreement between Magnus and Eirik, but it went even further than that. She looked at their happy faces, young and old, weak and strong, jarls and farmers. Her heart opened to them. There were many she didn’t recognize, for they came from other places. Through her, they all might one day know peace, to sail the fjord without fearing ambush and piracy. Magnus could take even more of their goods to market, not only for Thorsfjell but for all the villages on the fjord. With the warships, he could go farther and fetch better prices for it all. Everyone would benefit.
The ramifications of her agreement to this union had been so distant and unreal, just words in a marriage contract, something her brother and Magnus had agreed upon without her. But now that she could put faces to all the people it would affect, the weight of it shocked her. With only four words, I will marry you, she had impacted hundreds of people, making their lives potentially better. Could she have done the same at the temple, as one of many priestesses? Perhaps over her lifetime, but not like this.
Magnus filled her plate with all the finest foods, but their only beverage would be the mead they’d drink from the same cup. She ate as well as she could. She was the center of attention and couldn’t dishonor Magnus by letting anyone suspect something was wrong.
He knew, though. It lay in his eyes. As the afternoon ended and the evening wore on, she couldn’t look at him and not see the questions he wanted to ask. She listened to the music and to the insults the men hurled, each trying to outdo the others. Many of them had composed stories made of lies, to see who could tell the tallest tales. It came as no surprise that Leif won.
And when Lifa and the other women of Thorsfjell came to escort her to the bridal chamber, as she left she gave Magnus a smile for the benefit of the guests, their cheers and ribald teasing echoing behind her.
The women slipped her dress from her and arrayed her in her own hair, remarking how beautiful she was, how perfect. Magnus would be pleased. They helped her into bed and drew up the furs over her body, then busied themselves with putting away her clothes and jewelry.
Lifa took a cup from a servant and handed it to her. “Ginger tea. I thought you might need it.”
“I do. Thank you.” Of course her mother would know. She drank it down. “I don’t suppose you sprinkled any runes under the bed to make him, oh, fall asleep right away?”
Lifa’s mouth twitched. “No, but I might have put a few around for other reasons.”
“No herbs in his drink?”
“No herbs in his drink.” She laid her hand on Silvi’s arm. “It will be well, my love. Let him do as he wishes, for he will be a gentle and kind husband to you. It’s his nature where you are concerned. He cares for you so.”
And that was the problem. To hurt a man as fine as he when she left him . . . She needed something stronger than the ginger tea. But it was too late. The voices of the men who escorted Magnus to her filtered through the door. Her mouth dried.
They burst in, Leif and Eirik in front, then Magnus. A group of men flanked him, bearing torches, laughing and joking. Lifa stood and moved slightly in front of the bed, like a mother wolf guarding her pup. They sobered when they saw her.
Magnus walked out from the group and focused on Silvi. “I have come to
be with my wife.”
“As is your right,” Lifa said. “Let us witness you to bed and we will leave you be.”
His gaze never left Silvi’s. Her breath came hard as the men lifted off his shirt. She’d seen him like that when he’d sparred with Rorik, but she’d tried to forget how beautiful he was. It flooded back into her—his broad shoulders, corded arms, and his narrow waist. Then he stripped off his boots and his trousers and straightened.
He was perfect. All the women saw it and sighed. He bore a few scars on his chest and arms from past battles, and the wide scar crossing his lower abdomen, but they were marks of honor and only served to show that he was worthy of her. His legs were long and hard, and they weren’t the only parts of him that were. Her cheeks heating, she looked away, then gave him another quick glance. Clad only in his gold torc and arm rings, he was primal, strong, a warrior born and bred. And she was his.
He walked to the bed and several of the men lifted the cover so he could get in. They made as though they wanted to get a glimpse of Silvi. It was all in jest, but he still glared at them as she shrank farther beneath the furs. He slid into bed beside her.
“We could always follow the old traditions and stay to make certain the marriage is valid.” Leif winked at her.
“And die by my sword. Get out.” Magnus’s words were hard, but he grinned. Laughing, all the men and women left, carrying the torches. Lifa was the last to leave.
“Magnus and Silvi, may the gods bless this night and all the others of your marriage.”
“I thank you.” He nodded to her.
With a quick, encouraging smile at Silvi, she left and they were alone. He shifted so that he faced her, but she stared straight ahead. Her heart fluttered. She’d seen other men before, wounded men she’d helped her mother treat, or others who simply stripped and washed after they’d worked or sparred. None had been like Magnus. How could he . . . ? How could they . . . ? He was so large. Everywhere.
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