Page 59 of Lord of Fire and Ice

“I’m supposed to walk,” Katla hissed in his ear.

“And yet it pleases me to carry you, wife.”

If he still meant to leave, this display would only muddy matters. “Brandr, put me down. You’re confusing everyone.”

Especially her.

“How so?”

“You’re acting like…like…”

“Like a newly married man? What a coincidence. That’s exactly what I am. Besides,” he said as he stopped before the big door to the longhouse, “it’s bad luck for a bride to trip over the threshold. If I hadn’t carried you down the hill, I’d just have to pick you up again now to carry you over.”

A few servants had remained behind to see to cooking of the feast. Inga looked up from her place by the central meal fire and nodded a greeting.

“All is in readiness, my lord,” she said softly.

Katla bristled and stiffened in Brandr’s arms. This was her household, not his.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sensing her reaction. “Am I not master here now?”

Tradition proclaimed he was. A married woman didn’t retain control of anything unless the contract stipulated as much, and Finn had been willing to barter away all of her rights to her holding. Her only hope at maintaining an even keel for her people was for him to leave.

“You’re a master who doesn’t intend to stay,” she whispered as he set her lightly on her feet.

“I might if you asked me to,” he said as he led to her to the main table.

His promise was tempting, but she resisted the urge to beg him not to leave. When she married Osvald, she’d given him her whole heart, but he hadn’t returned the favor.

Need someone, and you only give them an invitation to hurt you, she reminded herself. She couldn’t need Brandr Ulfson.

Or at least she couldn’t let him know if she did.

Then the longhouse flooded with guests, and there was no more opportunity for private speech. Everyone cheered when Katla presented the bridal ale to Brandr and he proclaimed it the best he’d ever tasted. So many toasts were offered, she felt slightly light headed from too much drink. Katla was prone to moderation, but there were no limits to the merrymaking this night.

Inga played her pan flute. Otto Sturlson had the entire company complaining of pain in their sides over his hilarious recounting of the tale of Thor and Loki in the land of the Frost Giants. Otto even slipped a kerchief over his head to act out the part of the thunder god in woman’s guise.

Katla wiped away tears of mirth at the image of the virile god’s vain attempt at disguising himself as female.

She slanted a quick glance at Brandr. He seemed to be enjoying himself, as a bridegroom should.

Finally, men began banging their drinking horns on the tables and started a low chant, calling for the bedding to take place.

Gerte hustled Katla into her chamber. The old woman lit the lamp with her tinder and flint and then started stripping Katla for bed.

“No, Gerte, there’s no need.” She was certain Brandr would announce his plans to leave, voiding the marriage, and that would be that.

“There’s every need, mistress,” the old woman said as she removed Katla’s slightly wilted crown of woven wheat. “If we don’t get you naked and under the covers, the men will take it upon themselves to help your new husband do it.”

“They didn’t behave so when I wed Osvald.”

“They didn’t drink so free at that wedding either,” Gerte said. “Besides, Osvald was a hard man. He would’ve ordered a man whipped till he passed out if he laid a finger on you.”

“And you think the son of Ulf the Ruthless wouldn’t do the same?” She considered it more likely Brandr would punish the offender himself rather than ordering it done, but Katla felt obligated to defend the principle.

“Oh, ja, he’d try, but folk don’t respect him the same. Meaning no offense, I’m sure, but I don’t expect he’d be obeyed if he ordered more than a refill of his mead bowl.” Gerte’s bony fingers worked the catches on Katla’s brooches and pulled the tunic over her head. “Wasn’t he naught but a thrall till this night?”

Gerte’s words grated Katla’s soul. “Brandr is the son of a jarl and a captain of the Varangian Guard. He wasn’t born a thrall, you know.”