Page 126 of Viking in Love

She had also seen him talking with her father over cups of ale. It had been a long conversation, but it could not have been too bad since her father had not lopped off his head or done him bodily harm.

Caedmon had not wanted to be married. He probably still did not. But she was going to marry him anyhow. She would teach him to love her over time.

Somehow, amongst her sisters, Sybil, and Lady Ravenshire, an exquisite bridal gown had been put together. One of Sybil’s gowns of sky blue edged with silver embroidery. It was covered by a surcoat of sable-lined samite in a darker, slate-blue color, with embroidery in a larkspur design; someone had found it in a chest left by the former owner of this estate. Eadyth managed to make one of her beekeeping veils into a bridal veil hanging from a circlet of Drifa’s flowers. All this attire was more Saxon than Norse. So she wore her hair in one long braid, Viking style, and at her shoulder was a brooch in a writhing, intertwined animal design.

Her sisters looked just as lovely in their bright gowns, Tyra’s Saxon style, but the others pure Viking. Her father would be giving her away, and her sisters would stand as witnesses. On Caedmon’s side would stand Geoff, Wulf, Hugh, and Rashid.

“It is time,” Ingrith said, sticking her head in the door.

Breanne sighed deeply and began to walk out with Eadyth. “Are you nervous, dearling?”

“Surprisingly, I am not.”

But that was not true once she got outside in the bright sunshine. Caedmon stood near the trellis waiting for her. He looked so handsome in a new dark blue fustian tunic over matching blue braies. The sun reflected like stars on his silver-hilted short sword in its side sheath and his gold-linked belt.

He was being forced into this wedding. Despite her earlier claims not to care, to be willing to wait for his love to come, she was having second thoughts now. It was so unfair to this man, who had not been treated fairly much of his life.

But then he smiled at her, and Breanne put her hand on her father’s extended arm and began to walk toward him.

They were to be married in two ceremonies, one Christian and one Norse. Father Edward was not pleased. So he rushed through his ritual and sat down in a huff. Breanne hardly felt as if she was married. She had not even raised her veil yet. She and Caedmon exchanged looks, then shrugged.

Now it was time for the Norse wedding ritual, which would be officiated by both her father and Rafn.

A small table was brought over, under the arbor, and on it was a silver-chased goblet of wine, an ornately jeweled knife, a gold braided cord, a hammer, a polished stone, and a bowl of oat seeds. They were both jarred with surprise when her father began to chant primitive words in Norse. For the benefit of those who did not understand Norse, Rafn interpreted, “King Thorvald called out to god and man, family and friends to come witness today the marriage of Caedmon of Larkspur and Princess Breanne of Stoneheim.”

“Dunstan would have a screaming fit if he were here,” Caedmon whispered to her out of the side of his mouth.

“He would have barred all women from the ceremony, even the bride,” she replied.

Caedmon chuckled.

“Shhh!” her father said and handed to Caedmon the goblet of wine. “Odin, we draw this nectar from your well of knowledge. May you bring this couple the wisdom to deal well with each other in this marriage journey they begin today. Especially give these two stubborn people the wisdom to know when to give up the fight.”

“Hah!” Breanne said.

Caedmon just grinned. He took a sip of the wine, then turned the goblet and pressed it to her lips so she could drink from the same spot. She could swear the metal carried the warmth of his mouth.

Her father must have given Caedmon instructions ahead of time, because after she took a tiny sip of the red wine, he set the goblet down, then picked up the hammer. “Thor, god of thunder, I take in hand your mighty hammer, Mjollnir—well, actually, ’tis Breanne’s hammer. This I pledge: I will protect you, Breanne, my wife, from all peril. I will use my fighting skills to crush your enemies. Let it be known forevermore. Your foe are now my foe. My foe are your foe. The shield of Larkspur is now our shield.” With that, he raised the hammer and crushed the stone.

Breanne jerked back with surprise.

Then her father took over again. He picked up the bowl of seeds, taking a handful. “Frey, god of fertility and prosperity,” he began.

Caedmon stiffened beside her.

Are you demented, Father? How could you bring up that most hated subject to Caedmon on this of all days?

Her father continued, “We implore not fertility or great wealth in this marriage, oh, great Frey. What we seek, instead, is that you bless them with a rich love and richer passion…and if a child, or five, comes along, so be it!” Before his words could sink in, he sprinkled a pinch of the seeds over her breasts, and a much larger amount over Caedman’s chest, enough that they floated down to his crotch.

Caedmon looked horrified.

My father is a total idiot.

Her father, the total idiot, was barely stifling a grin.

Taking her left hand and Caedmon’s right, her father tied them together loosely with a gold cord. Then, before she realized what he was about, Rafn took the knife, put shallow slits on each of their wrists, then pressed the two cuts together.

That is just wonderful. Bloodshed on top of everything else!