He headed northeast, away from the coast.
Randvior was unhappy with himself. Deep down, he still wished he’d been the one to kill Sveinn. But things were changing, especially inside. He’d demonstrated mercy by sparing the lives of those guards. His father had always told him it’s easier to kill than not to. And told him once he grew to manhood he’d understand the usefulness of benevolence. All men make war, but few possess the necessary scruples to make peace. Randvior had done that… and now, for Noelle’s sake, he allowed those men to live. He remembered her words—why she believed they could never be together. His violence was an abomination in her god’s eyes. Though he secretly wondered if her Allfather wore breeches or a dress.
Pallid light streaked the sky, the weather overcast and cold. None of it could penetrate the luxurious heat wrapped in his arms. Noelle’s slight form curled close to his heart. He heldon tightly, galloping faster and faster. They passed the eastern border of his father’s steading and rode through vales and woods before a large lake came into sight. Someone unfamiliar with the landscape might not see it. Beyond the southern shore rose a configuration of starkly white standing stones, almost camouflaged by snow. There they would be offered sanctuary.
He didn’t want Noelle to miss seeing the holy place and called to her. People from all over Norway visited this site on pilgrimages during the summer months. She moved, popped open an eye, and quickly closed it again. He laughed delightedly. Anything she did right now would make him happy.
“Wake up,min lille dukke.”
She grumbled something unintelligible and peeked up at him. “Do I have a choice?”
Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, but she remained as adorable and pretty as ever. He pulled her hood back.
“I want you toseewhere we’re going.” He pointed across the lake. “This is an enchanted place, where Odin first made his treaty with us. If you look beyond the shoreline and keep your eyes sharply focused northward, where the trees begin to thin out, you can see a group of standing stones. Nine perfectly matched stones.”
He knew she adored history.
“Andwhyis this place so important at this ungodly hour?” She yawned and tried to lie back down.
“We believe this is one of the places where heaven meets the earth. The gateway into Midgard, the lands Odin gifted the first man and woman, Ask and Embla, to live in.”
“Surely you know that’s a myth.” She was awake now.
“Is it less believable than a garden paradise?”
She considered it. “No,” Noelle sighed. “What do the stones represent? Is nine an important number in your world?”
He pinched her hand appreciatively. Her inquisitive mind wouldn’t allow her to fall asleep again. “Aye,” he said excitedly. “The universe is divided into three levels and nine worlds. Those worlds are Asgard, Vanaheim, Alfheim, Midgard, Jotunheim, Nidavellir, Svartalfheim, Hel, and Niflheim. Each stone represents one of those worlds. And the first Norse king, Harald Fairhair, swore the gods erected these stones as demarcations to show where we should live. They symbolize our sovereignty over the nations of the earth. And each one reminds us of the nine immortal virtues that Northmen strive to live by. If a man abandons them, his soul is doomed—his name forever stricken from the annals of Valhalla. Other legends claim maidens inhabit them, Odin’s own daughters as guardians of the realm.”
“Name these virtues.”
“I cannot, they are forbidden to foreigners. But I shall reveal one,love.”
As long as she distinguished between Odin and her god, respected the significance of Allfather’s gifts, she would be welcome here. As they neared the clearing, she pointed at a cottage between the sixth and seventh stones.
“A caretaker lives here, a most beloved priest and friend.”
Randvior dismounted and she followed. He hobbled his stallion and they walked to the cabin. Before he could knock, the small door opened. A hoary-colored beard covered the stranger’s face; he wore a plain wool tunic. Randvior bowed and they exchanged pleasantries before they embraced.
The priest turned to Noelle. “Is this the woman I’ve heard so much about?”
“Aye.”
“Odin has an eye for beauty. Come and warm yourselves by the fire.”
The one-room cabin was sparsely decorated, with a crudely made bed, a table, four chairs, and bookcases brimming withancient scrolls and manuscripts. The priest poured three glasses of wine from an open bottle and served them.
“Does your lady know the purpose of your visit?”
“No.” Bloodlust still thundered in Randvior’s heart. No, it was time to speak of love now, not hate.
Growing thoughtful, Randvior set his drink aside and approached Noelle, who was standing in front of the hearth. For only the second time in his life, he knelt at the feet of a woman.
“As the priest has suggested, I brought you here for purely selfish reasons.”
She touched his face.
Unwilling to postpone their wedding any longer he said, “It is customary to spend weeks planning a wedding—inviting kinsmen and friends and holding elaborate celebrations. We can no longer delay the inevitable. We are still in danger, although I cannot say who wishes to see us both destroyed. I still feel it in my bones. I want to marry you here, on cherished ground. Pledge our hearts to the gods as we did at Odin’s altar. To Hel with the rest of the world… Noelle Sinclair, say once more you’ll become my wife.”
