“We keep our seer and healer,” Harold barked.
“Besides, she’s in love with Torbin. And she has cast her own runes. She knows her future lies with him.” Rangvald voiced his opinion, too. There was a tightness around his eyes and mouth as though there was more to say, but he held back. Ivar nodded but did not press.
The three brothers finished caring for their horses, and the men had already been in the stables long enough to make Soren and Thor wonder what kept them. The men made their way to the bathhouse where Soren and Thor were already soaking in steaming tubs, guards from each tribe keeping an eye on the two feuding jarls and each other. Ivar and the other new arrivals stripped down and entered their own tubs.
“Ahh,” Harold sighed. “My arse fell asleep those last ten miles or so, and I reek of horse shite. It’s good to take a bath.”
Rangvald splashed water at his older brother and laughed.
“You always smell of horse shite. If you didn’t spend so much time in the stables rutting with the serving women and dairy maids, you might get rid of the stench.”
Harold opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it shut as he reached for the soap. His one remaining hand worked the soap into a lather. He focused on bathing rather than a rejoinder. Sven’s eyes darted back and forth between his brothers. While Harold had admitted Lorna’s defense and losing his hand were fair parts of battle, he still harbored anger towards Rangvald for claiming Lorna as his. The fact that the couple had fallen in love left Harold without a hand or a bed slave. He had mentioned that once before and saw his life flash before his eyes when Rangvald nearly beat him to death. The three brothers now avoided conversation about Rangvald’s personal relationships.
“The ceremony shall be in the morning,” Soren announced as he watched Ivar’s reaction.
Ivar’s hands fisted under the water as his jaw ticked, but he said nothing. “We will exchange the dowry at the evening meal and announce the ceremony to the tribe,” his father finished.
“Father,” Rangvald spoke up. “Don’t you think Mother and Inga would appreciate a little more time to recover from the journey and prepare for the ceremony?”
“That may be, but Jarl Soren and I have agreed that allying with a consummated marriage is more important than either your mother or your sister’s gentle sensibilities.”
“But I doubt Ivar would appreciate a bride who’s too tired to remain awake on her wedding night,” Harold spoke up.
Thor squinted at his sons and turned his head towards Soren, but his eyes were slow to follow. He nodded before looking at Soren. “Perhaps my sons have a point. We can exchange the dowry and documents this eve, but the ceremony can take place the day after tomorrow.”
Soren grunted as his mouth tightened into a thin line, his ire directed at Ivar, somehow deducing that Harold and Rangvald were coming to Ivar’s defense more than they were Inga’s.
“Father, what type of ceremony will it be, since this is but a trial?” Sven relied on his age to mask the question in innocence when he intended to remind the two jarls that it was not a marriage in truth.
Both jarls’ heads snapped toward Sven, and his eyes opened wide in true fear.
“The kind that solidifies an alliance that ends years of feuding. That’s the kind,” snarled Thor.
“But we all recognize that Harold, Rangvald, and Ivar get along better than any of the past jarls and their heirs. Perhaps they’ve already ended the feud.” Sven kept his eyes down as he lathered his body and spoke at the same time.
“That doesn’t make any lasting bond like marriage does, Sven. The bond of blood through our shared grandchildren is what will make the alliance last.”
“Does that mean you think my brothers and Ivar won’t honor--”
“Enough!” Thor roared as he stood from his bath. “Speak another word, Sven, and you will find yourself on a lonely horse back to our homestead.”
“Ask Signy then. She already knows.” Sven shot his father a mutinous glare before sinking into the water to wet his hair.
“Sven, I warned you.”
“Wait,” Soren held up his hand. “What do you mean ask Signy? She has the second sight. Has she seen the future?”
Thor and his sons looked everywhere but at Ivar or Soren. They would not even look at one another. Their guilt seemed to ooze from them as Thor toweled himself dry, and the sons continued to scrub their bodies and hair.
“Thor?” Soren’s voice held an edge of warning. “What has Signy seen?”
“Nothing of importance. She sees herself in love with one of my warriors. She says they will have a daughter that will marry your grandson. Nothing much more than that.”
“Marry my grandson? So she would marry her cousin? And what do you mean nothing much more? That means something more.”
“She believes her daughter will have her gift, too.” Thor pulled on the clean clothes he brought with him and turned his attention to his sons. “Finish your baths and shake a leg. You don’t want to keep our hosts waiting to serve the midday meal.”
With a quick nod to Soren, Thor slipped from the bathhouse, having foregone the dip in the frigid water in the adjoining room. The hot water for the baths came from a natural hot spring beneath the building while the cold bath came from a rerouted portion of the fjord. The remaining five men moved to the cold pool and plunged in. No one spoke as the frigid water took their breath away. No one lingered either, all of them hurrying back into the steamy, heated room. They dressed in silence until Soren clapped his hand on Ivar’s shoulder and blocked the only door.
