Page 126 of The Viking’s Captive

EPILOGUE

TWO SENNIGHTS LATER

Happily ever after, Viking style… If Chaos reigned at the Hawkshire wedding of Tyra, Viking warrior princess, and Adam, the Saxon healer.

To Adam and Tyra’s amazement, two hundred people showed up to watch them exchange vows and celebrate their union. Some said it was the event of the year in both Norse and Saxon worlds; others said it was just a slow social season.

Half of the time, Adam was asking Tyra, “Who are all these people?” The other half of the time, Tyra was asking Adam, “Who are all these people?”

Lord Eirik and Lady Eadyth of Ravenshire were there with their five children: twenty-four-year-old Larise who was the young widow of a Saxon merchant; the heart-meltingly handsome, twenty-three-year-old John of nearby Hawk’s Lair with his raven-black hair and clear blue eyes, who had developed a sudden fascination with flowers and with Drifa, though next week his interest might change to cooking; shy Emma, who at twenty-two wanted to enter a convent but found Rashid’s harem stories oddly intriguing; and the fifteen-year-old twins, Sarah and Sigrid, whose gray eyes danced with mischief.

Eadyth had presented them with barrels of her famous mead, which was contributing greatly to the high mood of everyone in attendance. She had already given Ingrith many cloth-wrapped combs of honey for use in the sweet dishes that had been prepared.

Adam’s good friend Rurik and his wife Maire showed up, too, coming all the way from Scotland. Their gift was an abundance of that potent amber beverage the Scots called uisge-beatha. It also was contributing to the jollity of the crowd, along with the mead. Not contributing to the jollity was the set of bagpipes that they had given to Bolthor. Rurik and Maire came with their growing brood. There were eleven-year-old Jamie, the spitting image of his father, except for the blue tattoo down the center of Rurik’s still handsome face; six-year-old Grace; and three-year-old Angus. Maire was breeding again.

Jamie had made good friends with Alrek, who was regaling him with exaggerated tales of his trip to Byzantium. Even though Alrek had never stepped off the longship on that foreign soil, Jamie was very impressed. Of course, Alrek was equally impressed that Jamie was a Highland laird-to-be.

Since his arrival at Hawkshire, Alrek had fractured his foot tripping over Ingrith’s broom, skinned two knees when he fell off a horse, got bitten by a stable cat, singed his hair when he tried to light a bonfire, and almost died of mortification when Bolthor wrote a saga about his discovering his first pubic hair. People were holding their breath to see what Alrek would do next.

Harald Bluetooth, self-proclaimed all-king of Norway, and a large contingent of his followers came as well … no doubt for his own political purposes. Ever since the death a few years ago of Haakon the Good, Harald had been fighting with the minor Norse kings to gain control of the entire country.

The Saxon king Edgar did not come, but he sent high-placed officials of his realm, along with the real power behind the throne, Archbishop Dunstan, who actually participated in the religious nuptial rites. Not that he had been asked. Hardly anyone argued with the dogmatic cleric, not even the king … except for Tyra, who was resisting his efforts to baptize her.

Most important, Rain and Selik came with their children and some of the Rainstead orphans. These were most welcome guests, though it tugged at Adam’s heart to see all these reminders of his missing sister, Adela, who had worked at the orphanage. The oldest, twenty-five-year-old Theta, was running the orphanage almost single-handedly now. Adam could no longer justify cutting himself off from these reminders of his sister and promised to help more in the future.

Selik pulled him aside at one point and reminded him, “Adela’s last words … dost remember them?”

“She said, ‘Be happy,’” Adam recalled.

Selik nodded. “I believe she is with us here today, and that is what she would wish for you. Be happy.”

Later, when the vows were exchanged in the makeshift chapel in the new hospitium, Tyra pledged to her new husband in the Christian rites, “As God is my witness, I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life.” There was no mention of “obey.”

When it was Adam’s turn, he said, “I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life … because you are my beloved and will be forevermore.”

All the women in attendance sighed at his gentle words. The men groaned, claiming Adam was setting too high a standard.

Afterward, following Viking tradition, Adam chased Tyra up the steps of the keep. Getting there first, he laid his sword across the threshold. Once they both crossed over, the marriage was completed. He whacked her across the backside then with the flat side of his sword. That, too, was a Norse tradition … leastways, one which had been started by Tykir at his own wedding.

Because so many people were commenting on the differences between the bridal couple, Bolthor naturally decided to recite a saga about it. “This is the saga of Adam the Lesser,” he began, “also known as ‘Why Opposites Attract.’

“Love is a strange emotion,

When all is said and done.

Sparks do fly,

And lust runs high

When bold man meets maiden shy,

Or wanton wench attracts timid guy.

Tall and short, fat and thin,

Homely and handsome, slovenly and neat as a pin.

Why do opposites attract?