“As do you, sister. We both do our kin proud on this day.”
“I believe your decision to wear your own clothes again was the right one. I could see you slipping more and more away from yourself as each day passed whilst wearing the Scottish garments.”
“You should have said something.”
“How could I? I barely recognized you during that time and was unsure if I would make things worse. I learned long ago that you learn lessons the hard way and in your own time.”
Saga swatted at her sister’s arm. “You know you can say anything to me. You are the only one I would allow that.”
“I know, but I don’t like upsetting you, whether it would end up in a physical altercation or no,” she said, laughing.
“And I do not like to see you distressed either. Rest assured, I am myself again, fully and wholly.”
“I am pleased to hear it. What do you suppose this king is like?”
“I imagine him to be strong like my husband, and powerful like our brothers. Giric has put much into planning for his arrival so he must be someone who commands respect. I don’t think he has ever fussed so much for anyone,” she said with a grin.
It was true. Giric had been nigh impossible to be around last evening. He had everyone including herself driven to distraction with his incessant points about where the garlands should go and who should serve the meals, and how well the chambers were made up.
At least the day was finally here. Come what may, she wouldn’t have to hear ‘when the king arrives’ one more time.
A knock sounded at the door before Giric entered. He stopped inside the chamber. “You look beautiful, Wife.”
“You look formal, Husband,” she said. He wore his breast plate with the white serpent crest, the same one he’d worn the first day they’d met. His fur trimmed cloak flowed down his tall body and pooled on the floor. His longsword was sheathed at his side and his fingers were adorned with golden rings. On his head, he wore a thin crown of gold. He himself looked like a king. She wondered if he intended to outdo the real one.
“If you are ready, we should convene in the great hall to await the king’s arrival. He has been spotted not five miles out.”
This was it. She was going to meet the man her husband appeared to respect more than anyone. They walked together to the great hall. Once there, her breath caught in her throat at the beauty of the place. With such an amazing transformation in a few short hours, she was convinced, someone had stayed up all night long.
Thick garlands of green boughs were decorated with purple heather and strung all around the hall. The long table was adorned with silver goblets studded with rubies and so shiny, she could see her reflection. Large tankards of a red liquid and an amber liquid dotted the table’s length. At the head was a chair Saga had never seen before. It was beautifully carved wood depicting two serpents intertwined. She gasped when she realized it was a near perfect image of the one at her home. On the chair sat a bright red cushion.
Dozens of large vases of flowers were positioned at many locations all around the hall. It was like something from a dream.
“Do you approve?” Giric asked.
“How could I not? Giric, it is beautiful!”
“You are beautiful. I am so proud to have you by my side and your brother here as part of these talks. I would like you to stay with me whilst we converse with the king.”
“That is an odd thing to say. Where else would I be?”
Saga looked around the hall and realized there were some women present she had not seen before. It occurred to her that Giric was trying to be more inclusive of the women who lived in the castle and that it was not normally customary for that to occur. His sister was nowhere in sight. Neither was her brother. She wondered if Giric had purposely given him some sort of fool’s errand to keep him away from the king.
“You are exactly where you should be,” he said and kissed her on the forehead.
Before long, a messenger entered the hall to announce the arrival of the king.
Giric took her hand and led her to the entrance of the keep. A large tapestry covered cart was pulled by four horses. Saga had never seen anything like it in her life. She could only assume a dozen or more people must be inside. When the footman placed a stool at the back and flipped back the fabric, she was certain to see many people emerge. Instead, only one man emerged.
If Giric’s finery was impressive, this man’s was downright overwhelming. From the large gem encrusted crown on his head, to his lavish fur trimmed robe, to the shiny gold chest plate, the man exuded extravagance. Two young men emerged from behind the cart to lift the back of the king’s robe as he walked toward them.
Her husband bowed and she followed suit. She didn’t know if she was supposed to or not, so she followed Giric’s lead.
“MacDomnail,” he said.
“Welcome to my home, my king,” Giric said.
“I thank you,” he said and turned to her. “I have met many Vikings, MacDomnail, but I have never seen one so lovely as this.”
