Chapter 19 #3
The abbot unlocked the trunk, opened the lid, and revealed its carefully folded contents to Brynhildr. “Take whatever you need,” Père Clément said through Brother Pierre.
“Gowns… the cloak, a linen chemise. You may keep what you choose, for they were meant for a traveler in need.” He gestured to the interior of the cozy cottage.
“And you are welcome to dwell here while you remain with us.” A gracious smile softened his wrinkled cheeks.
“Now, I shall leave you to settle in. I look forward to sharing our evening meal with you, fair lady.” With a nod of farewell to Sigurd and Brynhildr, Père Clément led Brother Pierre out the door.
“I am so grateful for their generosity,” Brynhildr sighed, wrapping her arms around Sigurd and resting her head on his chest. “It is so peaceful here…I am glad we can stay in this cottage together.” She looked up at him, fragile hope blossoming on her pale face.
“When you sail to Sweden, shall I stay here, or will you bring me to my sister’s husband, Heimir? ”
He kissed her softly and rocked her in his arms. “I shall take you to Heimir in Hylmdalir. But first…we have two more nights here together.”
Brynhildr stroked his bearded cheek, searching his face with wide, imploring eyes. “Sigurd… before we leave… will you wed me here, by the sacred Lindsvier spring?” She placed his hand on the ouroboros above her wildly thumping heart. “Before you take me to Heimir… before fate pulls us apart.”
He cupped her fraught face in his calloused hands, pressing a reassuring kiss to her lips.
“Nothing would please me more. We shall wed by this sacred spring. And when I return from Lyngvi, having avenged my faeir and reclaimed the Volsung kingdom of Lindesnes, you and I shall have a glorious royal wedding at Hrafnfjall, worthy of my Sun Falcon queen.”
She melted in his arms. When she lifted her gaze to meet his, lovelight glowed in her shining eyes. “Tomorrow is our third and final day here. And it is Frigg’s Day—the day for weddings. Let us ask Kveld to wed us tomorrow night, in the moonglow and starlight…beside the sacred Lindsvier spring.”
Sigurd looked out the open window and spotted Kveld toiling in the early spring sun, repairing the stone wall along the north side of the waterfall pool. He grinned at Brynhildr. “Let’s go ask him now.” Taking her hand, he led her out the oaken door.
As they strode across the meadow, the Nightwolf stood, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his grey woolen tunic, long black hair tied behind his inked neck with a leather cord.
He looked bare without his enormous black wolfskin cloak.
Kveld grinned expectantly at their approach, as if he already knew what they had come to ask.
Brynhildr offered him a flask of cool water from the spring.
He accepted it with a grateful nod, eagerly quenching his thirst. She smiled at Sigurd, then voiced her request. “Kveld… you marked our forearms with falcon and wolf… and witnessed our blood oath in the wild rose garden beneath my private tower. You carved the triple bindrune on úlfalkr, binding Sigurd and me to the ship and the sea. I would ask that you wed us tomorrow night…here, by the sacred spring.”
Kveld flashed a wolfish grin at Sigurd as he fetched the golden band he had crafted from the pouch belted at his waist. “Now you understand its purpose,” he smirked to Sigurd, mirth dancing in his amber eyes.
“I knew you would need this,” he told Brynhildr, placing the ring in her palm.
“Sigurd has the ouroboros to offer you, but I knew you would need a wedding band for him.”
She traced the carved images of wolf, falcon, and dragon, admiring the amber, emerald, and lapis lazuli gems. “It is perfect,” she murmured, examining the trio of runes inscribed inside the band.
Eyes wide with recognition, she glanced up at Kveld.
“The same triple bindrune that you carved on the ship—and at the base of my tower.” She whispered to Sigurd, nearly breathless with excitement.
“This marks the third bindrune— to join us in marriage. Oh, Kveld,” she cried, clutching the ring tightly as she threw her arms around his inked neck and kissed his black bearded cheek.
“I cannot thank you enough—nor can I wait until tomorrow night.” She lowered her arms and turned to face Sigurd, a joyful smile illuminating her radiant face.
“When at long last, I wed my beloved Sea Wolf.”
Kveld stretched his back and drained the rest of the water from the flask, returning it to Brynhildr. “Come with me,” he told them both, leading them into the húskarlar’s cottage where he had moved his belongings, to allow Sigurd and Brynhildr privacy in the other dwelling.
From a leather pouch inside his pack on the floor, he withdrew three blue beads and placed them in Brynhildr’s hands.
“Aquamarine—ice blue, like the fjord which brought you together and witnessed your blood oath in starlight. Sapphire, for the sacred spring where you shall be wed in moonglow. And lapis lazuli, for the sea which binds you to each other…and will carry you to safety one day soon.”
He drew the wolf dagger from the sheath at his waist and cut a lock of hair from Brynhildr first, then Sigurd.
He placed the two blond strands—his dark, hers light—into Sigurd’s calloused palm.
“Braid these together with a piece of ribbon or cord,” he told Brynhildr, “and weave in the three blue beads. I will need it for the wedding ceremony tomorrow night.”
The Nightwolf led them back outside, where wildflowers bloomed in the golden morning light of early spring.
There, he instructed them further. “Gather gifts to honor a trinity of goddesses. Three flowers for Jore, Goddess of the Earth. A triad of herbs for Eir, Goddess of Healing. And a trio of seeds for Frigg, Goddess of Marriage, to bless your sacred union.” He glanced at Tryggvi and Hálfdan, hauling a slab of newly cut rock toward the stone wall.
“I must return to work.” Grinning at Sigurd, he said over his shoulder as he strode across the meadow, “Remember…bathe her tonight and tomorrow in the sacred spring. And make love in moonglow and starlight.”
Brynhildr nearly swooned with joy. “Come,” she urged, pulling Sigurd toward the cottage and the trunk of clothing that Père Clément had just offered. “I need to choose my wedding gown!”