Gunnar looked over his shoulder and stood. “I will come to you,” he said.
Giric drank from his horn. The ale was cool and soothed the dryness in this throat. He needed to know if Gunnar had changed his mind about the wedding. He did not know what he would do if he was asked to leave without Saga.
When he came back he was chuckling. Filling their horns again he said, “It seems you and my sister are well matched.”
“How is that?” Giric asked.
“Because she just said pretty much the same thing you did and begged me to spare Aslaug’s life.”
Giric smiled. “And how was it that she came to be outside of the hall without walking through it.”
“A good warrior never reveals his secrets, Giric,” Gunnar said with a grin. “You know this.”
Giric took a deep breath. “And the wedding? Will it proceed on the morrow? I cannot imagine an execution and a wedding on the same day would be something your gods would smile upon.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I hope I do not live to regret this, Giric.”
Giric grinned. He knew what was coming and was pleased the man could be reasoned with.
“You will find another fitting punishment for the maid?” Giric asked.
“I will. My sister suggested she be banished from our village. Saga will take responsibility for her until she reaches Alba, but as for this village, she will never be permitted to return.”
“So it is a wedding on the morrow only,” Giric said. “But why would Saga not look at me earlier when you returned and then when she asked to speak with you?”
“The wedding will proceed as planned and my sister is not permitted to lay eyes upon her future husband the night before the wedding. The goddess Freya forbids it. Now I must go speak to my brother. He will be vexed with the change in punishment, but Aslaug need not spend the night thinking it will be her last.”
Giric was surprised once again at the compassion the man displayed in contrast to the fierceness he could convey when needed.
Chapter Eleven
Two maids sloshed cold water over Saga’s body. In Gunnar’s chamber, she’d been scrubbed from head to toe in a wooden tub lined with cloth with the hottest water she could tolerate. Freydis explained that each steam particle took with it one more piece of her maidenhood. Now being doused with cold water, they sealed in her true self which she would take into womanhood.
They wrapped her in cloths and patted her skin dry then walked with her back to her and Vigdis’ chamber to dry and braid her hair. She was to marry Giric MacDomnail of Alba this day and every fibre in her body told her it was the right and proper thing.
The night before she had prayed to the goddess Freya for clarity. When she awoke in the morning there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that he was entwined in her life’s journey.
Saga wore a long green gown that was tied at the waist by a gold stitched belt and fastened at the shoulders by two gold brooches embedded with rubies her brother had put away for her after their mother entered the realm of the dead. On her arms, she wore coiled gold bands also studded with rubies.
Once she was dressed, Freydis brought her to sit by the fire so they could work on her hair. They braided it away from her face and adorned the braids with tiny bands of gold and placed the elaborate wedding crown upon her head. Freydis had spent countless hours modifying it the night before. The piece was heavier than Saga had originally thought but it fit comfortably on her head because of the padding Freydis had fastened to the inside of the crown. This one had belonged to her mother as well and was made of silver and contained green and clear crystals that resembled the branches of the tree Yggdrasil, a symbol of extended life.
When they were done she stood and faced them. “Well?” she asked.
Vigdis put her hands to her mouth.
“You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen,” Freydis said with wet eyes. “Truly, Freya smiles down on you today, Saga. You are the vision of a true goddess.
Saga was afraid to look down, lest the crown fall off her head so she would have to take them at their word.
“I have never seen you look more powerful,” Vigdis said. “Even though I have seen you every day of my life, I have never seen you looking so much like a goddess yourself.”
Saga smiled at them both and walked toward the door. Lifting the latch she pulled it open to a waiting Gunnar. His eyes grew wide, and his jaw slacked
“Close your mouth, Gunnar,” Saga said. “You look like a fish gulping for air.”
Freydis came up to him and pushed his chin up. Saga noticed the look that passed between them. She had suspected the attraction between them had never really expired, but had pushed those thoughts out of the way considering it none of her business. Perhaps her own nuptials had opened her eyes to such things at which she would otherwise scoff. She smiled to herself; she didn’t mind that at all.
“Are you ready?” Saga asked him.
