Viking Bride (8 page)

“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.”

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 eternity, 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.