Viking Series - My Fair Viking Part 36

Adam's good friend Rurik and his wife Maire showed up, too, coming all the way from Scotland. Their gift was an abundance of that potent amber beverage the Scots calleduisge-beatha . It also was contributing to the jollity of the crowd, along with the mead. Not contributing to the jollity was the set of bagpipes that they had given to Bolthor. Rurik and Maire came with their growing brood. There were eleven-year-old Jamie, the spitting image of his father, except for the blue tattoo down the center of Rurik's still handsome face; six-year-old Grace; and three-year-old Angus. Maire was breeding again.

Jamie had made good friends with Alrek, who was regaling him with exaggerated tales of his trip to Byzantium. Even though Alrek had never stepped off the long-s.h.i.+p on that foreign soil, Jamie was very impressed. Of course, Alrek was equally impressed that Jamie was a Highland laird-to-be.

Since his arrival at Hawks.h.i.+re, Alrek had fractured his foot tripping over Ingrith's broom, skinned two knees when he fell off a horse, got bitten by a stable cat, singed his hair when he tried to light a bonfire, and almost died of mortification when Bolthor wrote a saga about his discovering his first pubic hair. People were holding their breath to see what Alrek would do next.

Harald Bluetooth, self-proclaimed all-king of Norway, and a large contingent of his followers came as well... no doubt for his own political purposes. Ever since the death a few years ago of Haakon the Good, Harald had been fighting with the minor Norse kings to gain control of the entire country.

The Saxon king Edgar did not come, but he sent high-placed officials of his realm, along with the real power behind the throne, Archbishop Dunstan, who actually partic.i.p.ated in the religious nuptial rites. Not that he had been asked. Hardly anyone argued with the dogmatic cleric, not even the king... except for Tyra, who was resisting his efforts to baptize her.

A half dozen of Selik and Rain's children came as well, along with some of the Rainstead orphans. These were most welcome guests, though it tugged at Adam's heart to see all these reminders of his missing sister, Adela, who had worked at the orphanage. The oldest, twenty-five-year-old Theta, was running the orphanage almost single-handedly now. Adam could no longer justify cutting himself off from these reminders of his sister and promised to help more in the future.

When the vows were exchanged in the makes.h.i.+ft chapel in the new hospitium, Tyra pledged to her new husband in the Christian rites, "As G.o.d is my witness, I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life." There was no mention of "obey."

When it was Adam's turn, he said, "I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life... because you are my beloved and will be forevermore."

All the women in attendance sighed at his gentle words. The men groaned, claiming Adam was setting too high a standard.

Afterward, following Viking tradition, Adam chased Tyra up the steps of the keep. Getting there first, he laid his sword across the threshold. Once they both crossed over, the marriage was completed. He whacked her across the backside then with the flat side of his sword. That, too, was a Norse traditiqn... leastways, one which had been started by Tykir at his own wedding.

Because so many people were commenting on the differences between the bridal couple, Bolthor naturally decided to recite a saga about it. "This is the saga of Adam the Lesser," he began, "also known as 'Why Opposites Attract.'"

"Love is a strange emotion, When all is said and done.

Sparks do fly, And l.u.s.t runs high When bold man meets maiden shy, Or wanton wench attracts timid guy.

Tall and short, fat and thin, Homely and handsome, slovenly and neat as a pin.

Why do opposites attract?

'Tis obvious, in fact: s.e.x, food, and life...

Need spice."

To which Ras.h.i.+d added, "Allah cannot be everywhere; that is why he created s.e.xual attraction."

It was now mid-afternoon, and Adam was sitting next to Tyra on the dais. They'd eaten one fine course after another. They'd imbibed more than enough honeyed mead. They'd watched countless entertainments.

Tyra wore a gown of softest blue wool, sent to her by Alinor. It was adorned with seed pearls and a border of embroidered hawks. Her flowing blond hair was held back by a slim gold circlet. She was so very beautiful.

Adam watched with amus.e.m.e.nt as Tyra admired, once again, the large gold ring with the hawk crest that he had placed on her finger this day. "So, do you like your bride gift, wife?"

"I love it, husband," she said, smiling softly at him.

They were both getting much pleasure out of saying the words "husband" and "wife" to each other. Each wondered if the novelty would ever wear off.

"Oh, oh!" she said suddenly. "I forgot to give you your husband gift."

As she struggled to pull something out of the cloth placket on her belt, he tugged on the war braids on either side of her face, which had been threaded with pearls to match the beading on her gown. "You are not supposed to buy me presents, heartling."

"Why? If there can be a bride gift, why not a husband gift?"

He shrugged and smiled at her. In truth, he could not stop smiling today.

"Is this a jest gift... like mayhap chicken feathers?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Adam..." she warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

She looked adorable when she narrowed her eyes at him. Adam couldn't resist saying, "Bok! Bok!"

She narrowed her eyes some more. "If you bring up that subject one more time, there is not going to be a wedding night... if you get my meaning."

He did, and immediately wiped the grin off his face. He didn't even say what he'd been going to say...

that the best thing about chickens was plucking them. He would save that one for a later time.

Into his hand she shoved a piece of blue velvet, tied with a thick gold cord. "Here," she said, her face blooming a lovely shade of pink.

That blush intrigued him more than the gift.

Slowly he opened it, then stared with confusion at the marble wand that lay in his hands. It was about the size of his middle finger and twice as long.

"What is it?"

She leaned close and whispered an explanation into his ear.

"Tyra!" he exclaimed, then threw his head back with laughter. The woman continually surprised him. And

he wasreally surprised now.

"If you don't like it, give it back to me," she complained and tried to grab for it.

"Hah! Not b.l.o.o.d.y likely!" he said, holding it out of her reach. Then he stood abruptly, pulled her along

the dais, down the steps, across the hall, and up the stairs to his bedchamber. It was a scandalous way to act, really, in front of all their friends and family. Neither one of them seemed to care.

Tykir called out, "Where are you off to, Adam?"

Adam said, "To polish some marble."

There was a collective gasp amongst the ladies, and chuckles from the men. They thought he was referring to his staff. Little did they know!

The next day, many guests said it was the first time they had ever heard of a bride and groom leaving the wedding feast while it was still daylight... and not emerging again till the next day.

Bolthor promised to write a saga about it.

Tyra just smiled.

Adam beamed.

Dear Reader:.

I hope you liked my latest Viking novel... which was surely a departure for me. A female Viking, rather than a male.

I do not take credit for all the Arab proverbs quoted in this book. Some of them are products of my creativity, but most are ancient proverbs, anonymously written, usually of Arab provenance.

To my shame, I do take credit for Bolthor's horrible poems.

And, yes, head drilling, or trepanning, did take place in the tenth century, believe it or not. Ancient remains show holes drilled into skulls to release evil spirits, to alleviate headaches, and to relieve pressure created by a bruised and swollen brain.

In writing this book, my eighth Viking novel, even I got confused sometimes by the relations.h.i.+ps and ages of all the people in this Viking fantasy world I have created. Watch my website for my Viking family history chart.

Even more important, My Fair Viking marks the sixth book in a loosely linked series (can be read out of order). Hundreds of readers have written to me asking the order of those books and how they can purchase the other books in the series. Well, we have made it easy for you. See the following page. As always, I enjoy hearing from readers. Please write to me at: Sandra Hill.

P.O. Box State College, PA www.sandrahill.net.

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