Chapter 41
Counts, Countesses, and Castles
Sunlight streamed through the eastern window, basking the chamber in golden light.
Gulls and gannets squawked in the clear sky, the crisp tang of the sea wafting in on the briny breeze.
Skadi lay on her belly beneath him, her rounded hips gripped tightly in his calloused hands.
As he pounded into her with relentless rhythm, he knew he couldn’t last much longer.
But when she quivered and convulsed, crying out in release, her sleek body clenched and clamped his tightly from within. He slammed into her, filling her with a fountain of seed, like the thunderous waves which crashed and splattered against the craggy cliffs.
When his body calmed, he lay down at her side, cradling her over his thumping heart. “By the gods, Skadi…your sublime body transports me to the stars.”
She hummed with pleasure, twirling the dark blond hair on his chest with the tips of her tender fingers.
She nuzzled it with her nose, deeply inhaling his scent.
“And you bring me there with you. I am so very glad you’re mine.
” Raising her chin to kiss his lips, she whispered into his open mouth.
“Let’s do it again tonight, like we did last night… in moonglow and starlight.”
“That’s a promise.” Skjold kissed her again and swung his legs over the side of the wooden bed piled with smooth blankets and soft furs.
He stood, washed in the basin, then dumped the wastewater out the window into the sea below the cliff.
While Skadi slipped into the garderobe—the narrow closet with a bench and a hole through which waste dropped into the waves far below—Skjold refilled the basin with fresh water from the pitcher for her to wash before donning her gown.
When they were both dressed, they strode down the dim hall where beeswax candles cast a soft glow and sweet scent from metal sconces mounted on the wooden walls.
Descending the steps from the upper floor of the castle, they crossed the wide vestibule at the base of the stairwell and entered the bustling Great Hall.
Sk?rde greeted them with a hearty grin, ushering Skjold and Skadi to sit with him, Ylva, and Vivi.
“Jarl Rikard and Lord Thorfinn have rescheduled our war council meeting for tomorrow morning,” Sk?rde informed them as Skjold settled Skadi onto the bench next to Ylva.
“They took Elfi and Njord to la Tour d’ écume—the Sea Foam Tower which is their wedding gift to the Sea Wolves.
” Sk?rde chuckled at the name as he took his seat beside Vivi.
“Though Njord and Elfi will one day inherit Chateau Blanc, Jarl Rikard is appointing Njord le Come d’ Aval—the Count of Aval, charged with defending the westernmost gate of étretat. ”
When his Maman noted the glittering amethyst and aquamarine gems in the rings which had been her wedding gift to them, Ylva smiled at Skjold, contentment glowing in her bright blue gaze.
“Which means that we have time for your Maman and me to present our wedding gift to Skadi and you.” Sk?rde grinned again.
“Finish your barley porridge and lingonberries. We’ll sail the new ship your uncle Sweyn gifted you.
And let Hrímdreki taste the salty winds as we sail east to Saint-Valéry-en-Caux. ”
An hour later, Skjold stood at the helm behind the frostdragon prow of his new drakkar warship.
Skadi stood proudly at his side, the westerly wind whipping her long blonde hair like a glorious Valkyrie in flight.
The crew of twenty oarsmen glided them across the Narrow Sea, and soon, the sheltered inlet of a seaport came into view.
High above the longships beached along the rocky shore, Skjold glimpsed a silvery castle perched atop the sea-swept cliff.
Le Chateau d’Argent—the Silver Castle gifted to them by Ylva and Sk?rde—gleamed like a legend from skaldic song.
Built of pale granite, the castle’s towering walls shimmered in the midday sun, their silvery sheen reflecting both sea and sky.
Slate rooftops crowned its towers and turrets, the lustrous grey stone glittering like frostdragon scales.
Wooden shutters and carved beams had been painted a soft silver, and atop the ramparts, deep purple banners emblazoned with a silver dragon snapped in the wind like Skadi’s frosted wings in flight.
“As le Comte de Saint-Valéry-en-Caux, you will defend this strategic harbor and the alabaster coast of Normandy—between le Chateau Blanc of étretat and my castle of Chateaufort in Dieppe.” Sk?rde grinned as realization dawned in Skjold’s stunned expression.
“Já,” Sk?rde rumbled with laughter, “Jarl Rikard is naming you Count of this entire coast. And I am giving you le Chateau d’ Argent--the Silver Castle of Saint-Valéry-en-Caux. ”
They beached Hrímdreki on the rocky shoreline, climbing the grassy path which led to the snow-covered meadow at the top of the cliff.
At the sight of Sk?rde—the Dragon of Normandy and Count of the Pays de Caux—the armored guards lowered their weapons, nodded respectfully, and stepped aside so that they could enter the enormous double wooden doors which had been painted a frosted silver.
“The castle faces north, to the Narrow Sea,” Sk?rde explained, as he led them through the entrance and gave them a tour of the fortress which would be their new home in Normandy.
“Like Chateaufort and Chateau Blanc, the Great Hall, kitchens, storage, and servant quarters are here on the ground floor, with bedchambers on the second and third levels.” He gestured to the large windows overlooking the sea.
“Four defense towers, connected by stone curtain walls and an enclosed central courtyard.” He smiled at Skadi.
“As Comtesse de Saint-Valéry-en-Caux, you may host feasts fit for a king.”
“We now have three homes,” Skadi whispered into his ear as she hugged Skjold’s arm in elated delight.
“We can live here, in le Chateau d’ Argent, on the alabaster coast of Normandy.
” She swirled in a circle, her deep blue gown flowing like waves of the Narrow Sea as she spun in sheer delight in the large chamber that would serve as their bedroom.
“We have a moonstone cottage on Lyrian Lake in álfheim…” She approached him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her soft lips to his, sending a jolt of desire straight to his loins, despite the wondrous morning they had spent together.
“And we can live on the island of Austv?goy in northern Norway, close to the portal of Jótunheim and the Dragon’s Leap cave. ”
Tears streamed down her luminous cheeks, her pale blue eyes sparkling like stars. “I am so happy, my heart might burst. After so much pain…losing my faeir…it is wonderful to feel joy once again.”
“I love you, Skadi. And I want to spend the rest of my life bringing you joy.” Skjold cradled his beloved bride over his fiercely loyal heart. He kissed her soft blonde hair and whispered, “Come, we must sail back to Chateau Blanc. There’s another wedding feast tonight.”
Dashing the tears from her smiling cheeks, Skadi nodded and hooked her arm in his. “And tomorrow night—we feast in álfheim. I can’t wait for you to taste the frosted starfruit. From our very own trees.”
* * * *
Lively notes from lyres and lutes floated in the festive air of the Great Hall, its tall pine walls adorned with fresh hellébore blossoms and white mistletoe berries, the floral fragrance mingling with the crisp scent of juniper from the crackling flames in the enormous stone hearth.
Though King Sweyn, Queen íssla, Jarl Rikard, and Lord Thorfinn sat in the same seats of honor at the high table, tonight Skadi and Skjold sat near Elfi and Njord, and Luna and Njáll, feasting on grilled haddock, steamed scallops, and fire-roasted lobster served with melted butter.
An elated Elfi was describing the joint wedding gift she and Njord had received from her faeir and the Norman duke.
“La Tour d’ écume—the Sea Foam Tower—stands atop the white chalk cliff at the westernmost point of étretat.
Near la Porte d’ Aval, which the Norse call Aegir’s Gate.
The sea portal to the underwater realm between worlds.
” Elfi’s sea goddess eyes glittered like green-blue gems. “The perfect dwelling for the Sea Wolves of étretat!” She laughed and leaned against Njord’s broad chest. The white wolfskin draped over his dark, braided hair glowed in the firelight.
Luna’s pale hair glimmered like ivory silk, cascading over her shoulder to her waist as she leaned forward to speak to Elfi. “Will you give birth in your faeir’s castle?”
“Nei,” Elfi shook her head and smiled at Njord.
“Now that we have a fortress of our own, I would like our child—the thrice-blessed daughter of the Wolf of the Nordic Seas and La Louve Blanche—to be born in la Tour d’ écume, the clifftop tower near the Sea Gods’ gate.
The perfect place for the daughter of two white sea wolves to enter the world. ”
Njord lifted Elfi’s hand to his bearded lips and pressed a soft kiss on her pale skin. Fierce love blazed in his lupine gaze.
“When will your babe be born?” Skadi sipped mead from her silver goblet and set it back upon the table.
Elfi’s joyful expression suddenly turned solemn, her voice a barely audible whisper. “On the vernal equinox.” Dread dimmed her bright gaze as her eyes darted from Skadi to Skjold, then to Luna and Njáll, before finally resting on her husband. “When Njord is off to war…”
Skadi hid her discomfort and glanced at Luna. “Will you be Elfi’s midwife?”
Elfi answered before Luna could speak. “úlvhild will be here by then.” She smiled nervously at Skjold. “You and Skadi are returning to the Dragon’s Leap cave after the wedding feasts are over. Please tell her I need her to deliver my daughter. I don’t trust anyone but her.”