This was themoment Noelle had waited for—assuming the role as mistress over her husband’s household. It was an immense responsibility she had only considered in theory—until now. Familiar faces and strangers alike were gathered to witness this spectacle of a trial and to greet Randvior’s father.
She cast a worried glance at her husband, who kept a firm grip around her waist as they walked. Women and children congregated along the back wall and slaves stood wherever they could find space. That diminutive chair next to Randvior’s throne was adorned with flower wreaths and pine boughs. Decorated for her? A single strand of silver medallions, similar to the ones that adorned his chair, was draped across the back.
“Your seat is ready, my lady.” Her husband made a sweeping bow.
She could scarcely take her eyes off him. After weeks of feeling the outcast, she was no longer considered the vile English harridan. Everything she wanted was looking her directly in the eyes. His love surpassed anything she’d ever known. And this house… She adored it, feeling a connection stronger than that of her birth home.
As often practiced in her homeland, her new steading deserved a name. “Steingard.The Stone Farm,” she whispered in Randvior’s ear and he nodded approval.
“Which stones inspired you?” he asked wickedly while he helped her onto the dais.
Mortified by his question, she jabbed him in the ribs. Movement in her periphery grabbed her attention. The man she spotted needed no introduction. Their eyes met. His were as beautiful as Randvior’s.
“Flesh and bone you say?” she teased looking between them. “You grossly under-described your sire—the resemblance is uncanny.”
Anundr chuckled and offered his hand. She leaned over and affectionately cradled it in hers, feeling as if she’d known him all her life. If she couldn’t gain a mother, please let this man be her second father.
“My son didn’t exaggerate a bit.” He eyed Randvior. “Your wife is as beautiful as thealpenglow.”
Too embarrassed to admit she didn’t understand the word he used to describe her, Noelle simply smiled.
“’Tis a great shame she cannot fully appreciate my compliment.Alpenglowis the golden-red light that illuminates the mountains at sunset,” he explained. “It’s nearly as radiant as Gabriel’s golden mantle.” He turned his face to Randvior. “Hire a tutor to teach her our language.”
She appreciated the biblical reference. “You flatter me overmuch.”
“No,” he said most seriously. “Once, long ago, I too brought an English girl home.” Anundr gazed at something far away. “She was nearly as breathtaking as you. But…” He sniffed. “Lauga interfered, and I’m afraid I lost her.”
Noelle nodded sympathetically. Never could she have imagined stomaching the idea of adultery. But for his sake, she did. An immediate kinship had been established between them. It baffled her how different Lauga and Anundr were. Randvior seemed disturbed by his father’s confession. Perhaps he neverrealized how much his father loved the girl. Not that it mattered any more, the poor girl was dead.Another victim of his mother’s violence.
While Randvior and his men discussed defense issues at the high table, Fald Ovesen entered the hall through the back doors. He was alone. What blood vengeance might his old ally harbor after learning his eldest son had died for kidnapping his wife? Although his son had committed a grievous crime, thejarlwas prepared to pay a generousweregildto pacify his friend and foster peace.
Their eyes met as Randvior stood. He did not perceive him as a threat. In fact, the olderjarlopened his arms. Confused by this, he asked Noelle to stay seated. He went to his friend with hope in his heart.
“My brother…” Randvior greeted him. Fald gripped his shoulders. “What news has reached your ears?”
“Everything.” Fald bowed his head, pain evident on his face. “I know my eldest son is dead.”
Randvior felt his pain. If he could alter the past, he would.
“Much is changing in the Trondelag. Spies and backstabbers have infiltrated every court—traitorous fools who relinquish Thor’s hammer for a cross.”
Randvior nodded. “Are such men amongst us?”
“I cannot say. But two of my own fledglings are guilty,” he admitted. “The gods blessed me with three sons, and two are traitors. And I swear my youngest will never see the light of day until I am convinced the old religion is deeply rooted in his heart. Sveinn deserved death.”
Randvior couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Never had he witnessed a father disinherit his own son. Aye, times were changing for the worst. Fald stared over Randvior’s shoulder at his wife.
“Forgive me,” Fald said, walking around Randvior, toward Noelle. “My family owes you a penance of great measure. I will do anything to set things right between our families. Sveinn’s ambition drove him to madness.”
Noelle accepted his apology.
It seemed many people were keeping secrets in the Trondelag. Fald’s pained expression confirmed his innocence. Randvior believed he didn’t know what his sons were doing. Fald turned and addressed the crowd.
“My two eldest sons, Sveinn and Tyr, secretly converted to Christianity. They constructed altars dedicated to the White Christ and blackmailed my slaves. If any refused conversion, a painful death was promised as punishment. These tactics are openly taught by Olaf Haraldsson. He’s polluted the hearts of our children and has the balls to proselytize in public.”
Randvior’s world was unraveling right before his eyes. He never thought he would live to see the day when a father must choose between his gods or his sons. Instead of feeling betrayed by Odin, Fald embraced the truth. Randvior felt nothing but deeper admiration for him. Lesser men would have found relief in the bottom of an ale horn. But one thing still deeply troubled him. “Where is your son, Tyr?” Randvior asked.
“Gone.”
