Chapter Fifteen
Mathios had always considered himself to be moderately quick-witted, a quality that had served him well over the years. It was clear that Merewyn and Deva were acquainted, and that the reunion was one that neither had expected. Both women appeared shocked, stunned even. Mathios had followed the whispered exchange, which was more than his long-time friend had been able to manage, so he had some notion of what was happening.
Merewyn trembled as she leaned against him, unconsciously seeking his support. Torsteinn, too, appeared bemused, and who could blame him?
“Come, we will discuss matters further in private. My longhouse is but a few minutes away and we have yet to offer you refreshment after your journey…” Mathios spoke in the Norse language in order to include Torsteinn. He had to assume that Deva, like Merewyn, had learned enough to get by. He ushered Merewyn away from the stables and in the direction of their dwelling. Glancing back, he was relieved to see that Torsteinn was at his heels, the pale Deva clinging to his arm. No one spoke again until Mathios closed the door of his longhouse behind them.
“Please, be seated,” he invited as Rowena hurried from her sleeping quarters, a pile of blankets in her arms. “Ah, Rowena, we have guests.”
“Yes, I saw them arrive and was about to make up pallets…” She looked from one ashen-faced woman to the other. “Is everything all right?”
Mathios shrugged. Really, he did not know. “Perhaps some ale? Or mead…”
“Yes, of course.” Rowena dropped her blankets in a corner and rushed to find drinking horns and a pitcher of their good ale. Meanwhile the women sat down, while he and Torsteinn exchanged puzzled glances.
“You mentioned a thrall,” began Mathios.
“Yes,” whispered Merewyn. “Bowdyn. He is my brother.” She turned to regard Deva closely. “You say he is well?”
“He is. He works with the Jarl’s horses.”
“Your brother?” The disjointed pieces began to fall into place for Mathios. “One of those taken as slaves?”
“Yes,” breathed Merewyn. “I had not dared to hope that Bowdyn and Nyle might survive. But Nyle…?”
Deva shook her head. “I do not know his fate. He was taken away soon after we landed. He struck one of the guards and they… they…”
“He was hurt? Killed?”
“I did not see that, but I would not have thought they would kill him. He was—is—a strong worker, and valuable…”
Mathios directed his next question at Torsteinn, and spoke in Norse. “What do you know of this?”
His friend met his level gaze. “I purchased a number of thralls in Holvik.” Torsteinn took a long draught of the ale provided by Rowena before continuing. “I had returned from a lucrative trading expedition laden with silks and spices from the eastern lands and found myself in need of workers to construct new dwellings, and to serve my growing band of followers. Deva was among the new slaves, as was this Bowdyn.” Torsteinn paused and shook his head. “In truth, he has been nothing but trouble and I would have sold him on within days had Deva not pleaded his case so prettily. They were from the same village in Northumbria, I gather. Anyway, I kept him locked in my slave barn for long enough, but we managed to arrive at some sort of understanding eventually. Now, he tends my horses and is remarkably good at it when he feels so minded. Most of the time he glares at me and seeks to stir up trouble among my thralls.”
“Not much of an understanding, by the sound of it,” observed Mathios. He noted that his friend did not disagree. “So, you will not have any objection then, should I seek to take this bothersome thrall off your hands?”
“None whatsoever,” confirmed Torsteinn.
“Your price?”
“You may have the man as a wedding gift. I will send for him.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your generosity and my wife will be most grateful. Her brothers are dear to her.”
Torsteinn nodded. “What of the other? I understand they are twins and that my Deva was at one time betrothed to the brother of Bowdyn.”
My Deva? “I see.” Mathios considered this an awkward circumstance to say the least.
Torsteinn did not, apparently, share his concerns. “Her affections are now otherwise engaged and I have no quarrel with the Celt she was to wed. All I can tell you of him is that I purchased my thralls from a trader by the name of Nikulas Njallson. He is well known in Holvik and would be easy enough to locate there I imagine. Njallson may have knowledge of what became of the man who attacked the guard. It is likely he would recall the incident.”
Mathios tended to agree. He got to his feet and smiled at his wife. “Merewyn, you will remain here with Deva. I am sure you both have much to discuss. Torsteinn and I have matters of some urgency to attend to.”
Merewyn grabbed his sleeve. “But…what of my brothers? Please, Mathios, could you not—?”
He crouched beside her seat in order to look up into her still pale features and raised a hand to sweep her hair back from her face. “Torsteinn has kindly agreed to relinquish Bowdyn to me. Your brother will be brought to Agnartved within the coming days.”
“Oh, that is wonderful. But what of Nyle? We must find him, too.”
“I shall make enquiries, but if he has not been seen for over a year the trail will not be a warm one.”
“I know, but—”
Mathios rose to his feet. “I shall let you know if I discover anything. Now, I must go.”
“Of course. Thank you.” She offered a smile to Torsteinn also. “And thank you too.”
Once outside the longhouse, Mathios summoned Olav and briefly explained to him what had taken place. “Torsteinn has already dispatched men to his settlement to bring Bowdyn here. I would like you to take five or six warriors and go to Holvik. Seek out the slave trader and question him. You may bribe Njallson if necessary, threaten him as you see fit but extract any information you are able as to the whereabouts of this missing thrall. If you are able to discern the new owner you will seek him out and purchase the slave from him. I will provide the necessary funds and you will pay whatever it costs to secure the man and bring him back to me here. Needless to say, he is not to be harmed regardless of how reluctant he may be to cooperate. Merewyn would not forgive either of us should her brother meet with any sort of mishap at our hands.”
“I understand, Jarl. We shall leave at once.”
“Thank you. I am sorry that you will miss the feasting.”
Olav shrugged, unconcerned. “As long as some ale remains for when we return, I shall not complain.”
* * *
Mathios had not greatly enjoyed his first wedding and no particularly high expectations of his second one. The purpose of the event was to secure Merewyn’s place here and establish her as his wife. A Celt would not be readily accepted, though his bride’s early progress was more than he could have hoped for. He intended to do all he could to ensure that his people were in no doubt as to her status at Agnartved. Mathios was surprised, therefore, to find pleasure in the traditional rituals and practises. Perhaps it was the smile on his bride’s face that made the difference. Since he had told her that she was soon to be reunited with one of her brothers she had not stopped smiling. He found her joy infectious.
The wedding was to take place in a cleared area in the heart of his settlement. The people of Agnartved and the many guests who had descended upon the village gathered in the morning and formed a huge circle. Those at the back shoved and jostled, craning their necks to get a better view of the main participants. The bride-price was the first matter to be addressed.
She gaped at the bag of silver coins he deposited at her feet on the morning of their wedding, witnessed by the hundreds of Vikings gathered to share the event. She reached out to lift a handful of the glittering silver pennies and allowed them to trickle through her fingers.
“You cannot mean me to have this? All of it?”
“All of it,” he confirmed. “It is yours.”
“I have never before seen even one silver coin, let alone so many,” she murmured. “It is too much.”
“The bride-price has been recorded. We shall proceed with the ceremony now.” Mathios nodded to Magnus, his uncle, who as his oldest and most elevated male relative had the honour of making the sacrifice to the gods and goddesses required to ensure a happy and fertile union. A quick flash of a blade was all it took, and the hapless goat collapsed on the stone altar. Magnus collected a small pool of blood in a bowl and approached Mathios and Merewyn. He chanted the ancient words of blessing, at the same time using fir twigs to flick droplets of the still warm blood over them. Merewyn flinched, no doubt mindful of her lovely new dress, but Mathios’ hand on her shoulder kept her in place to receive the ritual. Mercifully that part was quickly concluded, and he was quite convinced the gown could be washed. Magnus led the chants and incantations required to gain the blessings of the gods and goddesses and thus protect their union.
The formalities at an end, Mathios led Merewyn through the settlement to receive the jubilant good wishes of their friends and guests, and at last the feasting could start. Long tables had been erected outdoors, close to his longhouse, but there was nowhere near enough space at the tables for all who were there. Most sat on the ground or on upturned barrels, stools, fences, and low walls as female thralls rushed to and fro refilling mugs and drinking horns. The prepared food was set out upon the tables, again by thralls, and guests could help themselves. The boards groaned under the weight of roasted meat, fish, and vegetables. Platters piled high with flatbreads sat at regular intervals, beside steaming pots containing broths of beef, pork, and lamb. The aroma of spices and herbs filled the air, along with the piquant scent of nuts and fried fruits soaked in honey. It was clear that the women had been busy.
“Eat slowly,” he advised Merewyn. “We shall be here for hours at least, then all day tomorrow.”
“There is so much food,” she breathed. “Surely we do not need all of this.”
“A wedding has little enough to do with need and everything to do with tradition and flamboyant display.” He assisted her into one of the two large chairs set at the head of one of the tables. “So we sit here, we smile, we sip our ale and nibble on succulent pork, and look forward to the time when we will be permitted to retire to our longhouse and savour the more personal delights of the married state.”
He loved the way she reddened, even now. He would enjoy even more fucking her later and intended to take all night over it despite the throng of bodies likely to be sprawled all over the floors of his home. Judging by the quantities of ale and mead being swigged, few would be in any state to take notice of the sounds emanating from behind the curtain that shielded his sleeping quarters. Even so, he had plans that would ensure the privacy he required.
The hours passed slowly but Mathios could summon up reserves of patience when the occasion called for it. He introduced Merewyn to the guests whose acquaintance she had not yet met, and, in truth, even he struggled on more than a few occasions to recall everybody’s name. Rowena hovered near at hand and assisted him whenever she could. Magnus also, and once or twice Torsteinn, stepped in. He noted that Deva was not present at the feast and found an opportunity to ask his friend about her absence.
“She is with the other thralls, preparing and serving food. It is what she prefers.”
“Really? I had assumed that you and she were close.”
“She shares my bed if that is what you mean.”
“And that is all?” Mathios had thought their relationship appeared to be more.
“For now,” explained Torsteinn. “I confess being rid of the slave Bowdyn will likely ease matters. My little Celtic bed slave harbours a certain loyalty to him although it was the other twin she was destined to wed.”
“When might we expect Bowdyn to arrive here?”
“Tomorrow perhaps, or the day after provided the weather remains good for travelling.”
“Ah, then he shall be in time to join our wedding feast.” He signalled for a passing servant to refill his mug and that of his bride. “Let us drink to clement weather and dry roads.”
* * *
Darkness had long since fallen by the time Mathios deemed it reasonable to withdraw from the feast. Merewyn was exhausted. So was he, but their guests had travelled long distances over inhospitable terrain and at very short notice so the least they could do as hosts was observe the social niceties. Still, he considered their duty done, at least for now. He leaned over to murmur in his wife’s ear, “It is time for us to retire, I believe.”
“Jarl?” She turned to smile up at him. “Yes, please.”
He stood and offered her his hand. They made their way cautiously between the tables, taking care not to step on anyone as they passed. One or two of his men lifted a weary hand or mug in salute, but most of those still present were already asleep, their drunken snoring loud enough to drown the sound of footsteps as Mathios and Merewyn crept away.
“We shall have to present ourselves again tomorrow, but the celebrations will be less raucous by then,” he advised.
“Christian weddings are more sedate than this,” Merewyn observed, “though there is feasting and usually music too. And dancing.”
“There will be music tomorrow, and dancing probably. Hakon plays the pan pipes and Vikarr the lyre. I shall instruct them to treat us to some lively tunes.”
“I would enjoy that.” She glanced about her. “Why are we going this way? Our house is over there, to the left.”
“We are not going to our longhouse since it is already full to overflowing. I know of another place which will be… quieter.”
“Oh.” She made no further comment as he lifted a torch from its mounting in a wall and used it to light their way as he steered her in the direction of the harbour and the beach.
Mathios stopped at the entrance to the boathouse that protected his precious longship when not at sea. Following their arrival, the vessel had been dragged across the sand and into the tall, timber structure in order that Ivar and Ywan could treat the external hull with tallow to make it more watertight. They had made do as best they could to enable their voyage home, but now the craft would be meticulously maintained and made seaworthy. The scent of the tallow filled his nostrils as Mathios opened the large doors and slipped inside, towing Merewyn behind him.
“Why are we here?” she whispered in the darkness.
“You shall see.” Mathios had been here the previous day to make his preparations and had taken the precaution of leaving a lamp close to the door. He reached for and lit the wick from the torch, which he then secured to the outside of the boathouse. They ventured inside, their way lit by the flickering lamplight and Mathios assisted Merewyn in scrambling up the rough wooden framework that cradled the ship. He scaled the hull with ease and vaulted onto the deck, then leaned over to draw his wife up behind him. “Follow me.”
He led her between the narrow ribs of the ship that served as seating for the oarsmen, right to the raised platform at the prow. This was the spot where he would stand and direct his warriors in a raid, or view the stars to plot his course in the darkness, but this night the vantage point was equipped for entirely different purposes. A pile of furs and blankets lay on the planks, and a pitcher of fresh water stood close by.
“Our bed for the night,” he announced. “I trust it is to your liking.”
“Oh, it is perfect. Thank you.”
“My motives were not entirely selfless. A degree of privacy will aid my plans for our wedding night.”
“Our second wedding night,” she corrected. “Our first started with a spanking.”
“That is not my intention this time. In truth, I prefer to sleep, at least initially.”
“Oh.” She smiled and settled herself on the pile of furs. “Do you think we shall be warm enough? There is no fire…”
He eased his larger body alongside hers. “I am sure we will be. Come, move closer to me, little Celt.”
She wriggled up against him and he wrapped his arms about her. “This is a beautiful gown, Merewyn. I have been meaning to say so.”
“It is,” she agreed happily. “Sigrunn made it for me. She refused any payment. I hope the bloodstains will wash out.” She wrinkled her nose and Mathios sympathised. The goat’s blood was his least favourite part of the ritual also.
“I am sure they will. Rowena will help. Sigrunn did well. You and she have become friends, then?”
“Yes, I believe we have. And I know Connell will be happy with Sigrunn and Arne. She had made me welcome in her longhouse so I shall see my brother growing up.”
“I always imagined it would be so. I am glad. You are content here, then?”
Merewyn turned to face him. “Yes, I am. Thank you for returning for me.”
“I should never have left without you. Olav believes I should have tossed you into my ship and set sail, your protests be damned. Perhaps he is right.”
“I would not have forgiven you.”
He eyed her doubtfully. “No? I believe I might have persuaded you, eventually, even if I had to spank you every day for the first year of our marriage.”
“You would not have done that.”
He grinned. “I consider it an opportunity squandered. Still, it is done now.” He shifted so her back was again turned to him and he drew her up close to his chest. She sighed contentedly as he slid his hand down the front of the gown he so admired and cupped her naked breast. “Your body is beautiful, so fragile yet strong. Your flesh yields beneath my hand, then springs back as though untouched.” He caressed the soft curve in his palm, squeezing gently then stroking his fingers over the pebbled tip.
Merewyn shifted and stretched, her eyes closed as she relaxed under his touch. “Would it be permissible for me to fall asleep now, my Jarl?”
He chuckled. “I would not strenuously object.”
Merewyn stifled a yawn, then, “I offered to purchase Deva.”
This he had not expected. Mathios glanced down at the top of her silken head. “I doubt you could persuade Torsteinn to part with her. I am quite sure she is not for sale.”
“I did not approach him. I spoke to Deva, asked her if she wished to be free.”
“I see. I assume you would have used your bride-price to fund the purchase?”
“Yes. I hope there would have been enough. I do not know the value of a thrall.”
“You could buy a thousand Devas with the money you now own. What was Deva’s response?”
“She wishes to remain with Torsteinn and hopes that he will free her one day.”
“He may.”
“Even if he does not, she loves him.”
“I believe he cares for her.”
“Did you know that she accompanies him on his trading journeys?”
“I did not, though that does not surprise me. He would require thralls to attend him and as evidence of his prosperity when dealing with other merchants.”
“Had she wed my brother, it is likely that Deva would have lived her entire life within five miles of the cottage in which she was born. But at Torsteinn’s side she has already travelled to France in the south, and to the shores of the Black Sea to the east. I had not even known there was such a place.”
“Ah, yes, the Byzantine Empire. They trade mainly in silks and spices. Would you like to go there?”
“I am not sure. Maybe. I confess, travel both intrigues and terrifies me. And I detest sailing, as you know.”
“You would become accustomed to it. I am an explorer by nature, I believe, and I find I rather enjoy the notion of both intriguing and terrifying you. It is in the Viking blood to travel, to seek out new places, new adventures and we are good seafarers. And it is in Deva’s too, by the sound of it. She and Torsteinn are well matched.”
Merewyn was silent for a few minutes, then, “I will never be reconciled to what happened to my family. My father died a senseless death, and the destruction of our home was cruel and unnecessary. But all is not as simple as I once thought. Had she not become pregnant, I believe my mother would have survived the attack, but I would not have had my brother and Connell is very dear to me. As are my other brothers. Would you permit me to purchase Bowdyn from you? I have the money, as you know.”
“You do, but you are too late. The thrall Bowdyn is not for sale.”
“But—”
“When he arrives I intend to make him a free man.”
“You would do that?”
“Of course. My wife’s brother cannot serve as a thrall. Bowdyn will be at liberty to remain at Agnartved if he chooses, or to return to his home.”
“He will wish to go home, I am sure of it.”
“Perhaps. In that case we shall have reason to return to Northumbria ourselves from time to time to visit.”
She twisted her neck to smile up at him. “I would like that, despite my seasickness. I fear though that our arrival would cause panic in the neighbouring countryside,”
“They will get used to us, I daresay.” He yawned. “We should sleep now. Tomorrow will be another long day.”