Regardless of its symbolism or its ick factor (wearing a dead bug), she loved it, and couldn’t stop touching the stone, imagining she felt heat emanating from it against the base of her neck.
Cnut had given Reynilda an etched silver arm ring, but Andrea didn’t mind. She’d much rather have the amber necklace.
Dyna and Thorkel sat on Andrea’s right. Their wedding would be held soon, before the evening meal. The hall looked fabulous with all the fragrant greenery and candles lit on all the tables, as well as the tree. A bucket of water sat nearby in case of fire.
The pale blue fabric Andrea had given Dyna had been turned into a gorgeous Viking-style wedding gown with gold braiding on the neckline, wrists, and hem, but also edging the long, open-sided apron. Her platinum-blonde hair hung loose over her shoulders. Pretty silver brooches in the Norse writhing wolf design, gifts from Thorkel, adorned Dyna’s shoulder straps.
Thorkel, too, looked roguishly spectacular in a dark blue wool tunic, belted over black breeches. Kugge was wearing a smaller version of Thorkel’s outfit, which had touched Dyna deeply, more than any other gesture her bridegroom could have made.
The handsome new visitor sat on Reynilda’s other side. And that was where the stress came in . . . in other words, bad times.
On being introduced to Zebulan the Hebrew, Reynilda had cooed, “Oooh, is it true what they say about Jewish men?”
Andrea had interjected . . . okay, she sniped, “Is it similar to what they say about Viking men?”
Reynilda had blushed at Andrea’s mockery, but Cnut had grinned. And Zeb had said, with a straight face, “Yes.”
Cnut had yet to explain exactly who Zeb was, but Andrea had a faint memory of him mentioning a demon vampire named Zebulan who wanted to capture him on orders from his evil master. Surely, this wasn’t the same person . . . thing.
“Cnut,” she whispered. “Who is Zebulan?”
“Do you mean what? You recall the name, don’t you?”
“A demon? No way! You wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly if he was a demon.”
“What else can I do?”
“Tell him to go home?”
“As in, go to hell?”
“That’s not funny.” Actually, it was. “I don’t believe you. You must be teasing. This guy is so handsome, he doesn’t resemble those beastie things I saw at the ranch.”
“I don’t know about handsome. As for beasties, whoo boy! You ought to see Zeb when he’s in demonoid form.”
Just then, Zeb leaned forward and smiled her way.
“He has the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a man,” she observed to Cnut. “And his eyes, so big and brown and sad . . . what woman wouldn’t be drawn to him?”
“Eyelashes are overrated, in my opinion. Now, if you were talking about the longest—”
She put her fingers to Cnut’s lips to halt his next words and he nipped at the tips.
Just then, Njal came to stand at the head of the hall, near the trellis where the wedding ceremony was to be held. Njal, his white beard and mustache having been neatly trimmed, and what hair he had left lying in a single braid down his back, was the oldest of the Vikings here at Hoggstead, and therefore would be acting as “lawspeaker,” performing the marriage rites. He wore a special ceremonial robe of dyed animal pelts in various shades of black and red.
Thorkel and Dyna rose from their seats to go stand before him. Cnut and Andrea, the witnesses, followed after them. The person who had been playing a lute stopped when it became apparent that the ceremony was about to begin. Normally, the lawspeaker would enumerate the oral history of all the Viking laws before certain events, such as an Althing, Andrea had been informed earlier, but they would forgo that lengthy diatribe tonight to save time.
“Come ye, family and friends. Come ye, gods and goddesses on this Frigg’s-day, first night of the winter solstice,” Njal invited in a surprisingly booming voice. “Let us all bear witness to the marriage of Thorkel Long-Limbs to Dyna of the Silver Hair.”
“Hear, hear!” the crowd yelled out, raising high their horns of ale.
Njal implored Odin to give this couple wisdom as they melded their lives together and Thor to protect them from all enemies.
“Are vangels allowed to participate in pagan rites?” Andrea whispered to Cnut.
“Shh,” Cnut whispered back. “Some say Odin and God are the same entity.”
That is a stretch. But Andrea kept silent.
Taking a hammer off the table that had been set before them, Thorkel said, “Thor, god of thunder, I lift your mighty hammer, Mjollnir, pledging to protect my wife from all peril. With the fighting skills learned at your feet, I will crush her enemies. Her foe are my foe. My shield is now her shield.” On those words, he crushed a stone on the table with a sharp tap of the hammer.