Not wanting to leave her side, Randvior agreed to go, reluctantly. He planted a firm kiss on her forehead before he left.
The priest bowed reverently to Noelle from the doorway. “There is a looking glass inside the cabinet by the hearth if you need it to aid in your preparations.”
Noelle’s love for her groom increased tenfold once he showed her the gown and headpiece. How many men paid attention to such things? Love had blossomed between them so quickly. Weeks ago, she searched tirelessly for an escape. Now all she wanted waited outside. She touched the headdress and realized its importance. The Norse believed it honored the goddess Freya and brought luck to the bridal bed. The heather and flowers symbolized the harvest and fertility. She pinned it in place.
Dressed, she cracked the door and looked outside. Dozens of celebratory pyres were lit. A ring of fire surrounded her groom and the priest. Most of the snow inside the circle had melted and she could see withered vegetation underfoot as she stepped within the fiery sphere.
As usual, Randvior appeared unearthly, too handsome in his black tunic. The gold sword was sheathed at his hip. His flaxen hair hung loose at his shoulders and his beard had been neatly trimmed for the special occasion. Thank God, she wasn’t marrying an Irish lord today!
She had prayed for this moment from childhood. The loss of her mother and the corrupt nature of her brother had affected her life so harshly. After years of strife, she wanted to scream to the world how happy she felt in this perfect moment. How she knew in her heart this was the man God intended her to marry. The snow in the trees surrounding the clearing glistened as brightly as stars, a beautiful backdrop for her wedding. She lifted her skirts and eyed the dainty slippers on her feet—decorated with tiny bell-shaped beads and embroidered with gold thread. Her dress was ornamented in the same fashion.
Clasping a hand over his heart, Randvior greeted her, a slight tremor in the hand he offered. Joyful tears threatened to spillagain, but she didn’t want Randvior to remember her that way on their wedding day. She must be brave.
The holy man begged their undivided attention, which meant they could no longer stare at each other. But Noelle could barely pry her eyes off her lover. She faced the priest and opened her heart to anything he might say. A pagan wedding vow is better than none at all. The liturgy opened with a prayer spoken in Norse. Noelle cared little if he prayed to the devil himself. She stood at the altar with the man she loved!
Apparently, Randvior arranged for the wedding to be conducted in her language, because the priest started speaking English after the prayer ended. Subtle differences existed in the vows. She stood devotedly and placed her right hand in Randvior’s left so he could slip a thin gold wedding band onto her ring finger. Randvior had taken the elegant circlet from amongst the oath rings on his sword. In turn, she presented a ring to Randvior, after the priest blessed and handed it to her.
Once the rings were sanctified, the priest presented swords. They knelt on tiny silk pillows and bowed their heads as he reenacted the moment Odin breathed life into humankind. Noelle’s gaze strayed often to Randvior’s face, much to the priest’s chagrin.
Randvior squeezed her hand. “Behave little one,” he whispered, eyes dancing.
They exchanged swords and spoke the vows next.
“The gods have commanded men and women to marry and conceive sons and daughters and to raise them to honor the Old Ways. Noelle Marie Sinclair—do you swear before Odin and his sons and daughters to cleave unto this man, to honor and keep yourself unto him all the days of your life and into the hereafter?”
“Aye.”
“Do you renounce your fealty to your English sovereign and pledge allegiance to Jarl Randvior Sigurdsson as your lord and master, husband and protector, spiritual head, and judge?”
“Aye.”
“Randvior Sigurdsson—do you swear before Odin and his sons and daughters to cleave unto this woman, to honor and protect and keep yourself unto her all the days of your life and into the hereafter?”
“Aye.”
“Do you pledge to guide her correctly and gently through this lifetime and nurture her spirit for Odin’s own pleasure?”
“Aye.”
“I Odins navn erklærer jeg dere mann og kone. La ingen utfordring gudene mindre død de søker.”The priest blessed them and made several revolutions over their heads to ward off evil spirits. “You are bound.”
Randvior embraced and kissed her before he turned to the cabin where a black ram was tethered to a post. He carried the beast to the altar. The priest opened a silver horn he’d removed from his belt and prayed. He anointed the animal with fragrant oil from the horn. Noelle’s attention turned from the priest to her husband. Another blood sacrifice?
“This will assure our marriage is established on a strong foundation.” Randvior raised a dagger overhead and neatly slit the animal’s throat.
No words needed—Odin surely accepted this blood gift.
Chapter Eighteen
Test of Dedication
Dreams did cometrue after all. The priest served a modest meal; smoked venison, pickled herring, cabbage, bread, and day-old honey cakes. Ambrosial in Noelle’s humble opinion.
Randvior satisfied the priest’s demand for a traditional bridal toast. “To Noelle—you have increased my joy and banished sorrow from my soul. I beseech Frigga to bless and give us many sons and daughters who will serve the gods.”
“Aye!” The holy man gulped down his portion of wine.
After an hour, Randvior announced their quick departure.
