Cleve grinned down at her, sweet Laren, as beloved as a sister. “I’ll try my best, Laren, I’ll try my best.”
Just before the ceremony the following afternoon, Kiri said to Cleve, “You’re certain you wish to wed Chessa, Papa? I think she’s a very good second papa, but a wife is different. You’ve never wanted another wife since my mama.”
“I think those things that make her an excellent second papa will also make her a good wife. I have to marry her, Kiri.”
Kiri said slowly, frowning up at him, “But why?”
“If I don’t she’ll begin to count sticks and soon she’ll be so skinny she’ll blow off the eastern cliffs here on Hawkfell Island. She doesn’t want to be parted from us, Kiri, thus I must wed her.”
“I’ll talk to her, Papa,” Kiri said and ran to where Chessa stood with her aunt Mirana and her aunt Laren.
“Ah, my little beauty,” Chessa said and picked Kiri up in her arms. She groaned. “You’re a big girl now. I can’t lift you much longer.”
“But you’re my second papa. Papas are strong.”
“That’s true,” Chessa said. “I will have to grow more muscle.” She set Kiri down. “Now, sweeting, what do you think of my gown?”
Kiri walked around her, just looking, saying nothing. Chessa cocked an eyebrow at her. “Well?”
“I don’t know what to call you now.”
Mirana said, “Perhaps you can call her mama sometimes.”
“You just think about it, Kiri,” Chessa said. “I would like that, but it’s up to you. Now, do you like the saffron gown?”
Kiri nodded slowly. “Papa said he had to marry you because you’d count sticks and starve yourself if he didn’t.”
“That’s right.”
Kiri just nodded then and skipped away.
“Children,” Entti said, shaking her head.
“And men,” Laren said.
When the men came to stand in the circle for the ceremony, it was to hear the women giggling.
17
THE AFTERNOON SKYover Hawkfell Island was brilliant with light, sweet with the scent of the gorse and heather, and tangy with the salty spray from the sea. There were plump white clouds to soften the force of the sun. There was no wind. The crashing of the waves against the rocks was rhythmic and heavy.
As was the Malverne custom, the men stood behind Cleve, the women behind Chessa. The children stood off to one side, the oldest children responsible for relative silence among the younger ones. The pets stayed with the children, all except Kerzog, who nestled his nose between Chessa’s feet.
“Since Sira is your stepmother,” Old Alna said to Chessa, “you’ll not have to worry about her coming to steal Cleve, like she tried to steal Rorik. To think of Sira as a queen, it makes my brain spin. Aye, she tried to seduce Rorik from Mirana, you know, nearly killed my little sweeting. Ah, but I saved her.”
Mirana began to whistle.
Rorik, Lord of Hawkfell Island, yelled out for silence. “We’re graced with fine weather, a sure sign that this marriage is blessed by the gods. Cleve of Malverne is here to wed with Chessa, daughter of King Sitric of Ireland. Listen all of you to their pledges of faith.”
Cleve stepped forward, clasped Chessa’s hands in his, and gently tugged her to the center. “Kerzog,” he said, pushing the mongrel away, “leave her be. You can sniff her toes and sleep on her feet after I’m done with her.”
There was laughter.
Cleve felt the coldness of her hands. “Don’t be afraid,” he said low. “A papa shouldn’t ever be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid. I’m terrified. I’ve never been married before, Cleve.”
He just smiled down at her and said in a loud voice that carried to the waves crashing against the black rocks at the base of the eastern cliffs, “I offer this woman all that I have and all that I will ever have.” He raised her hand in his. “Our future is shrouded in the unknown. She stands with me in this. When it is clear to me who and what I am, she will still be at my side. I hold her in honor. I will pray to Freya daily that we are blessed with many babes and that all of them will be mine this time.”
