Chapter 29 #2
He was clad in a long white robe with an elegantly embroidered coif upon his bald head, a gleaming crucifix around his neck, and a gold cloth draped over his left arm.
His two acolytes wore simple white hooded robes, one carrying a silver chalice of holy water, the other an ornate crucifix, embellished with glittering amethyst gems, to bless the wedded couple.
The priest stopped before Sigurd and Brynhildr, dipped his slender fingers into the silver chalice, and touched the forehead, chest, and shoulders of both bride and groom, murmuring a benediction in Latin.
He accepted the amethyst crucifix from his acolyte and raised it over their bowed heads His calm, clear voice rang like a church bell over the hushed crowd.
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I bless this royal marriage and proclaim it lawful and enduring under the eyes of the One True God. May the wedding vows spoken today by Sigurd Sigmundsson and Brynhildr Budladóttir be hereby ordained and honored by God Himself.”
The priest bowed and guided his two acolytes to a quiet corner near the assembled kings and jarls, their white robes, silver chalice, and golden crucifixes gilded by the setting sun.
A hushed murmur rippled through the gathered crowd when King Budli motioned to a pair of royal húskarlar.
The armored guards strode across the flagstone courtyard, each bearing a cushion of deep blue silk upon which rested a silver crown with the head of a snarling wolf flanked by a pair of ravens.
In the bright golden light, the sapphire eyes of the beasts and the amber orbs of the birds glistened as if alive.
Brynhildr’s legs trembled as Budli nodded to álfr.
The Wolf King lifted the larger of the two crowns from the blue silk and spoke solemnly to his foster son. “Kneel, Sigurd Sea Wolf, Dragonslayer of Sjóborg, that I may formally place the Volsung crown upon your rightful brow.”
When Sigurd lowered himself to one knee, álfr regally placed the wolf and raven circlet atop his bowed blond head. The crown gleamed like silver fire in the golden sun.
álfr’s proud, paternal voice carried over the courtyard and across the cliff. “I hereby proclaim Sigurd Sigmundsson the Volsung King of Lindesnes, under the watchful gaze of gods and gathered kings.”
When Sigurd rose to his feet, Budli took the smaller silver coronet and turned toward Brynhildr.
Her falcon heart fluttered like Gyllin’s golden wings.
“This is the crown of Lindesnes, worn by Sigurd’s medir Hjordis and before her, his amma Svanhildr, the first of the Volsung queens. Kneel, beloved dóttir, that I may place it upon your royal head.”
Brynhildr carefully removed her silver kransen, woven with ivy and wild roses, and reverently handed the bridal headpiece to Yrsa.
The volva’s beaming, woad-painted face was blue as the sparkling fjord.
Brynhildr knelt before her royal faeir, his coppery hair and russet beard aflame in the summer solstice sun.
He solemnly placed the slender wolf and raven circlet upon her bowed head, his deep bellow booming over the gathered throng. “I hereby crown you, Brynhildr Budladóttir, the Volsung Queen of Lindesnes.”
Sigurd helped her rise, lifting her hand to his blond bristled lips. His deep blue eyes danced like waves on the dappled sea.
álfr unsheathed his sword and placed it over his heart, blade upright.
With his left hand, he touched the úlfblóer wolf head hilt of Sigurd’s reforged sword, Gramr. His majestic voice was triumphant, clear, and proud.
“By the wolf blood in this blade and the honor of my royal house…before gods and gathered kings, I swear the alliance of Sjóborg to the Kingdom of Lindesnes, and my loyalty to King Sigurd Sea Wolf and the Sun Falcon Queen Brynhildr.”
After King álfr returned his sword to its scabbard, Budli withdrew his blade, Hrafntonn. Placing the Raventooth sword over his fierce Viking redbeard heart, he swore the alliance of Hrafnfjall to Lindesnes and its newly crowned Volsung king and queen.
Brown bearskin gleaming in the sunlight like the bronze crown atop his thick dark hair, Agnar was the next king to swear the alliance of Bjarkholm to Lindesnes, and his sovereign loyalty to its king and queen.
King Eirikr stepped away from his dóttir Dagny’s side to vow the alliance of the kingdom of Ryfylke to Lindesnes and its Volsung king and queen.
Brynhildr’s breath caught at the sight of the ochre-faced, crimson-haired volva standing near King Rognvaldr of Rauevik, who had gifted Sigurd the magnificent wolf spear which he had hurled at the Sólhjarta Tournament to win that competitive event.
Like the kings before him, Rognvaldr withdrew his royal blade, touched the úlfblóer wolf head hilt of Sigurd’s sword, and declared his kingdom a staunch ally to the King and Queen of Lindesnes.
King Yngvi of Romsdal and King Jormundr of Vestmorkr were the last of the royals to bind their realms in alliance with Lindesnes, followed by Jarl Hróald of Bj?rndal, Jarl Siggtryg of ?rnesund, and the remaining noble lords—the same chieftains who had come bearing gifts when Sigurd first became a Sea Wolf.
Black cloak draped across broad shoulders like the outstretched wings of his kingdom’s heraldic bird, the Raven King of Hrafnfjall bellowed across the shimmering fjord. “Nine kings and jarls have sworn alliance with King Sigurd and Queen Bynhildr of Lindesnes. All hail the Volsung king and queen!”
Amid the blast of horns, the howls of the Sjórúlfar, and thunderous cheers from the jubilant throng, Budli boomed above the raucous din. “Follow me to the Great Hall of Hrafnfjall! And let the feast begin!”