Viking Tribute

Chapter 42: Wedding fright

Love is a fickle thing. The day set for my handfast with Lord Einarr was fast approaching, and I couldn't make head or tail of my feelings. With me he was attentive and charming, and each morn a new gift found its way to my pillow. Most of the time it was of little value, yet very thoughtful. He kept surprising me and often made me laugh, the pinnacle of it being when I unwrapped a small dragon, carved in floated wood and painted. Things like this made it hard not to like him.

Then he would join his men, his stern face would return, and I'd recall the hardships I had suffered by his fault. Shame and guilt would flood me for giving in.

The child growing inside me added to my confusion. It was his, and I couldn't reject its father.

I was torn, my lover and my worst enemy being one and the same.

The lack of sleep didn't help to clear my mind. I tossed and turned at night, unable to find a comfortable position, and when I did, I soon was awoken by the kick of a little foot. The bearn was restless, uncaring of the time. And so was I.

Lord Einarr was growing frustrated. He had sent messengers to every farm within two riding days in search of Hrefna, and they had returned empty handed. The woman seemed to have vanished in thin air. It was the end of March, too early to look further as snow still blocked the mountain passes.

While he was seething, I wasn't bothered. As long as she was away, I felt safe. For what harm could an escaped slave do, alone in the wilderness. She might have died from cold and hunger. I shivered. It could have been my fate, had I persisted at my foolish attempts to escape.

The first guests had arrived, those who lived far and didn't want to miss the celebration. Within a couple of days, the houses were crowded. I was running back and forth, fetching more blankets, helping with the preparation of food, and trying to make everyone feel welcome. My feet were sore and swollen and I dreaded the coming week of festivities. Had these people been Christians, they would have observed Lent and fasted five days a week. It would have made life simpler. Then again, no wedding would have taken place before Easter.

I had begged Lord Einarr to make this a smaller affair, arguing that it wasn't wise to deplete our larders before summer. I used to be in charge of my father's house, and I feared that if the weather turned foul, we would go hungry before the crops could grow. He had laughed at me, reminding me that he was a wealthy Godi.

"We have more than enough, Sunngifu, I saw to it. It is our honor and duty to be hospitable, and in my position, I would lose my reputation if I didn't throw a memorable feast. My people expect nothing less, and those who are lacking food will seize the occasion to gorge themselves on my expense. They will be grateful and will reward me with their loyalty. The more followers I have, the stronger my position at the Althing. And the safer my family is," he added, stroking my cheek.

"Do not worry, I have enough silver to buy anything you'll need from the traders, when they'll be back. Neither you nor my son will ever lack anything."

I nuzzled his palm, the warm and callous skin pleasantly tickling me. "I never doubted it, my lov... Lord," I blurted.

His lips found my forehead, and stretched in a smile. "Besides, it is a rare occasion. I have no intention of marrying again for a long, long time..."

I stepped back and tucked my fists on my hips. "So you do intend to marry again!" My anger was feigned, of course, but it was all I could do to avoid melting at his feet.

He rose to the challenge, dragging me back to him and kissing my neck. "Only if you died before me, and I forbid you to. I would hate to have to punish you so you'd better heed my warning..." he whispered in my ear, nipping it.