Chapter Fourteen
Eadlyn observed as Inga worked the loom with practiced hands and explained each step along the way.
The upright frame, as tall as Eadlyn herself, leaned against the wall on one of the platforms, stone weights at the bottom holding the warp threads taut.
A half-finished length of woven wool stretched across it, destined to become someone’s new dress or tunic.
Beside it, another loom stood with the beginnings of an exquisite tapestry.
Ranvi sat there, bent over her work, her shuttle weaving in and out of the jewel-toned yarn.
Someday, perhaps, Eadlyn would learn to weave such intricate beauty.
For now, she was content to master something simpler.
After passing the shuttle, wound with wool, through the vertical warp threads, Inga picked up what looked like a wooden comb and tamped the new row into place with a few sure strokes. “There. Now you try.”
She stepped aside with an encouraging smile, and Eadlyn traded places with her. Mimicking the movements she had watched, she guided the shuttle through. It took more effort to settle the weft evenly, not pulling too tight or letting it sag, but when she finished, Inga gave a small nod of approval.
“Good. Keep at it, and you will soon find it comes naturally.”
She remained near as Eadlyn repeated the process, the soft whisper of thread the only sound between them.
The quiet work soothed something in Eadlyn, especially after the chaos of the Gathering a week ago.
The jarls had departed with as much fanfare as they had arrived, leaving everyone to go about their everyday lives.
Once again, Eadlyn rarely saw Aevar, save for mornings and evenings.
Yet, to her astonishment, he still allowed her to read the Scriptures to him each night.
It had become such a habit that last evening, she’d simply started reading without asking if he wished to continue, and he hadn’t objected.
He spoke little, but now and then, he asked a question.
While he may only be humoring her or listening for entertainment, she prayed every day the words would lead him to faith.
If nothing else, his curiosity gave her hope she did not expect to find here.
Still, a cloud hovered over that hope.
Almost a month had passed, and yet a wall remained between them.
His family welcomed her as one of their own, their kindness easing many of her early fears.
But Aevar remained distant most of the time, as if unsure where she fit beside him.
She might have believed it was just his way, or the way of Nord marriages, if not for the open fondness he displayed toward his family and the affectionate way Runar and Erik treated their wives.
A prickling sense of disappointment needled at her, and she fought to smooth it away. He treated her with consideration and respect. That was enough. What more could she ask for?
Still, the question stirred in her mind and, after a moment’s hesitation, she turned from the loom and spoke.
“I love how close your family is. It’s something I’ve never experienced before.
” She paused before forging ahead. “It’s clear how much Aevar loves all of you.
I know I’m still new, and we are still learning one another, but…
do you think he might ever let me in like that?
Or, because I am Essian, will he always be more reserved in our relationship? ”
For a heartbeat, something drifted across Inga’s face.
Something like sorrow. She reached out, resting a warm, calloused hand on Eadlyn’s arm.
“It isn’t you, dear. My son…he carries a lot of pain.
He was married once, to a girl named Thora.
She was his life. She died almost three years ago, bearing their daughter.
The babe lived but a few hours herself. And with them, something in Aevar died as well.
He’s spent these years guarding the pieces of his heart too closely to risk breaking them again. ”
The words struck, echoing in Eadlyn’s mind. No wonder Aevar kept his distance. She had believed she’d been the one to sacrifice for her people and this alliance, but Aevar had made his own sacrifice, marrying a stranger while still mourning the loss of his wife and child.
Another, more terrible, realization struck, seizing her with icy fingers. She clutched the string of beads at her chest. “These clothes…they were hers.” It all made sense now, the wistful, aching looks Aevar had given her.
Inga nodded, her smile sad but tender.
“I shouldn’t wear them,” Eadlyn whispered, already turning toward the bedroom to change at once.
But Inga stopped her. “It’s all right. Aevar gave them to you.”
Even so, guilt twisted in Eadlyn’s belly. “I don’t want to cause him, or any of you, more pain.”
“You aren’t. You needed clothing. And Thora herself would have wished for her things to serve the living, not gather dust.”
Eadlyn wavered until Inga gave her arm a comforting squeeze.
“As for Aevar,” she said, “I cannot promise he will love you, but I can promise he will take care of you and guard you with his life. We all will.”
The words wrapped around Eadlyn like a cloak against the cold. Tears smarted in her eyes. “That is already more than I ever hoped for.”
“I win!” Trygg’s triumphant shout rang through the hall, drawing a few amused glances from the others.
In his excitement, he scattered half the tafl pieces across the table. Aevar chuckled, snatching the king piece before it tumbled off the edge. He didn’t let his nephew win every time, but tonight he’d been inclined to indulge him.
Trygg hopped off the bench and rushed off to brag about his victory to anyone who would listen.
Still smiling to himself, Aevar reset the game board, gathering the scattered pieces into neat rows in case someone else wanted a game before bed.
He found his gaze drifting to Eadlyn, who sat on the other side of the hearth with Ranvi, Katla, and Alvir.
Everyone would turn in before too long. He was tired after a day of hard labor, preparing the fields for planting, but not enough to skip their nightly reading.
He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he found himself rather enjoying the tales.
Missing a piece, he leaned over to check under the table. He spotted it beneath the bench and retrieved it. When he straightened, his mother had joined him.
“I introduced Eadlyn to weaving today,” she said, keeping her voice low enough to stay between them. “She’s picking it up quickly.”
“Good.”
“I told her about Thora.”
A familiar, sharp ache lanced through his chest, the kind that never dulled with time. He drew a calming breath through his nose. Perhaps he should have told Eadlyn himself, but it was better this way.
“I expected you would.”
His mother watched Eadlyn for a moment before studying him again. “It is good for her to know why you treat her the way you do.”
Aevar frowned. Her words prickled under his skin. She made it sound as though he’d mistreated Eadlyn. “I’ve treated her kindly. I’ve done everything I can to make her comfortable.”
“Kindly, yes, but at arm’s length and certainly not like your wife.”
“I barely know her.”
His mother hummed, unimpressed. “And whose fault is that?”
Aevar twisted the tafl piece between his fingers, focusing on the small weight instead of his mother’s words. He’d provided for Eadlyn’s needs, made sure she was safe. What more did Móthir expect?
“I like her,” she said quietly.
Aevar gave her a sidelong look. He didn’t like the sound of where this was headed, but he knew better than to stop her.
“I think,” she continued, “if you gave it a chance, you two could be very happy together.”
He bit back a sigh. “I married her for the alliance.”
This drew a smirk to Móthir’s face. “I’m sure your father thought the same thing. At first.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?” she asked, a glint in her eye.
He didn’t answer. There was no point.
Móthir rose from the bench. As she passed him, she bent down, kissed his temple, and murmured near his ear, “You two would give me beautiful grandchildren.”
Aevar snorted under his breath, shaking his head.
That wasn’t likely to happen any time soon, if ever, considering their current arrangement.
He glanced back toward Eadlyn. Trygg was chattering to her now.
Despite her inability to understand anything he said, Eadlyn offered him her full attention, smiling patiently.
The children, even Alvir, who was shy with newcomers, had really taken to her.
Some small, traitorous part of him wondered what life might look like if things were different and he and Eadlyn had a true relationship. But as his mother’s words lingered, cold sunk deep into his chest. He couldn’t bear to lose another wife or child. Couldn’t bear even taking the chance.
Soft goodnights echoed across the hall as everyone drifted to their rooms. Eadlyn remained by the door as Aevar moved around their chamber, lighting the lamps.
Shadows danced across the walls as the flames caught and flickered across his features.
Her mind centered on the conversation she’d had with Inga that morning.
It had changed how she saw him and their situation.
Even just sharing this space with her must be agony.
He turned and caught her staring. His brows drew together, puzzled.
Eadlyn hesitated, then stepped closer, gathering her courage. Some things needed to be said. “I’m sorry if my being here and wearing these clothes has caused you pain. I didn’t know.”
For a moment, he said nothing, and his gaze dropped away from hers. Unguarded suffering crossed his face. It stole her breath to witness it so plainly. She couldn’t change the fact that they were married or the necessity of sharing this room, but one thing was within her power.
“I will stop wearing them.” An ache squeezed her throat, but she kept her voice steady. “I will make something for myself.”
Aevar’s mouth tightened, not in anger, but in a way that betrayed grief. The loss shadowed his expression before he locked it down again. When he lifted his eyes to hers, they were resolute.
“No. You don’t need to. You are welcome to them.”
Eadlyn held his gaze a moment longer. She needed to be sure. “Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Compassion swelled, sharp and helpless. She felt it between them—the shared grief and the sacrifices neither of them had asked for but both carried. “I’m very sorry for your losses.”
Aevar dipped his chin in acknowledgment, but she caught the shimmer of moisture in his eyes before he turned his head away. This was the most vulnerable she had seen him.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice roughened.
A long silence stretched between them, broken only when he cleared his throat. He looked at her again, his face composed, the mask back in place. His voice seemed lighter. “So, what are we reading tonight?”
Relief and sadness tangled inside her. “Tonight, I get to read you one of my favorite stories. Joseph.”
They finished preparing for bed and settled in for their nightly reading. When Eadlyn reached the part where Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery, Aevar let out a low chuckle.
“These people in your book are as devious and vengeful as the gods.”
Eadlyn suppressed a grin. He was listening.
“Yes, but they are just people, flawed and sinful, prone to making terrible choices and mistakes. We all are. That’s the amazing thing about God.
Even when we fail or rebel, His plans don’t.
And even more incredible, He still loves us in spite of it.
” She paused, then added, “Have you heard about Jesus?”
Aevar shrugged. “A little. He died and came back, supposedly.”
“He did.” She shifted, setting the parchment aside for a moment. “Do you know why?”
“A sacrifice of some sort?”
“Yes, because sin can only be covered by death and blood. It’s part of why Abel’s offering was acceptable and Cain’s was not.
We are all born sinners because we have a sin nature that has been passed down by our fathers ever since Adam.
Elsewhere in Scripture it says the wages of sin is death.
That debt is on us, but Jesus, who is fully God, gave up everything to become human and die to pay that debt for us.
He offers salvation and forgiveness of sin freely to anyone who will accept and trust His sacrifice. ”
Something flickered in Aevar’s expression, but he remained silent.
“It’s simple,” she continued. “The Bible says, if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. Nothing complicated. Just faith.”
Aevar didn’t reply, but she didn’t expect him to, and she prayed the seeds would take root. For now, she was simply content to be here, sharing these quiet moments and trusting that God was at work in ways she did not yet see.