Regardless, he saw little choice but to let the foreigners witness the marriage. ‘They are already here now. We cannot deny them our hospitality.’ With a shrug, he added, ‘Sigurd likely invited them in the hopes of wedding one of their daughters to Rurik or Danr.’
‘Possibly.’ Brandt thought a moment. ‘We cannot deny them a place to stay, but we can deny them the right to bring in weapons. We will say it is to abide by our mother’s wishes.’
It was a reasonable request, and Alarr answered, ‘I will see to it.’ He reached for his clothing and got dressed.
‘Wait a moment.’ Brandt approached and held out a leather pouch. ‘A gift for your wedding.’ Alarr opened it and found a bronze necklace threaded with small pendants shaped like hammers. It was a visible reminder of Thor, a blessing from his older brother.
He stood so Brandt could help him put it on. Then Alarr looked back at his brothers, unable to cast off the sense that something was not right at all. Perhaps it was the unknown warriors, or perhaps it was the knowledge that he would be married this day.
A sudden premonition pricked at him, that he would not marry Gilla, as they had planned. Alarr knew not why, but the hair on the back of his arms stood up, and he could not set aside his uncertainty. He tried to dispel the restlessness in anticipation of the wedding. Like as not, every bridegroom had those feelings.
Sandulf trailed behind him. ‘May I join you, Alarr?’
He shrugged. ‘If you wish. But we are only exchanging the mundr and Gilla’s dowry. You may want to wait.’ The wedding activities would last most of the day, and there were enough witnesses without needing Sandulf there. ‘You could return when we make the sacrifices to the gods. That part is more interesting.’
His brother nodded. ‘All right. And in the meantime, I can watch over our guests and learn if any of them are a threat.’
‘Good.’ He understood his youngest brother’s desire to be useful, and it might be a wise idea to keep a close watch over the visitors.
Alarr departed the bathhouse and watched as his brothers went on their way. Brandt joined him as he approached the centre of the settlement. His older brother said little, but his face transformed when he spied his heavily pregnant wife, Ingrid. There was a moment of understanding that passed between them, along with joy. Alarr wondered if he would ever look upon Gilla’s face in that way when she was about to bear a child.
‘It won’t be long now,’ he said to Brandt. ‘You’ll be a father.’
Brandt nodded, and there was no denying his happiness. ‘Ingrid thinks it’s a boy from what the volva told her. I hope they are right.’
Alarr walked alongside his brother until he reached Sigurd and Gilla’s father. It was time to discuss the bride price and dowry. But before they could begin, they were interrupted by his mother. She hurried forward and whispered quietly to Brandt, whose face tightened. Then he gave a nod.
‘I must go,’ he said to Alarr. ‘There is a disturbance with tribes gathering to the north. I should be back later tonight for the wedding feast, but I’ve been asked to intervene and prevent bloodshed, if possible. I am sorry, but it cannot wait.’
Alarr inclined his head, wondering if this was the ill omen the volva had spoken of. It also struck him that his mother had spoken to Brandt and not to him or to her husband. She did not like Sigurd, but then again, it was possible that the king already knew and had ordered Brandt to go in his stead. Sigurd’s presence at the wedding was necessary.
‘Do not go alone,’ Alarr warned his brother.
‘Rurik will accompany me, along with a few other men,’ Brandt promised. His gaze fixed upon his wife, who was walking towards the other women, and his features softened. ‘I will return as soon as I can.’
‘Go then,’ Alarr said. ‘And return this night for the feasting.’ He clapped Brandt on the back before turning his attention back to the negotiations.
Sigurd was already bargaining with Vigmarr as the two exchanged the dowry and mundr. Since they had already agreed upon the bride price, it was hardly more than a symbol of the union to come.
Alarr saw Gilla standing behind her father. She wore a green woollen gown with golden brooches at her shoulders. Her dark hair hung below her shoulders, and upon her head, she wore a bridal crown made of woven straw, intertwined with flowers. Her smile was warm and welcoming, though she appeared slightly nervous.
Beside her, the volva was preparing the ritual sacrifice to the gods. The wise woman began chanting in the old language, supplications for blessings. Several of the guests began to draw closer to bear witness, and the scent of smoke mingled with the fresh tang of blood. The slain boar was offered up to Freyr, and the volva took a fir branch and dipped it into the boar’s blood. She then made the sign of the hammer, blessing them with the sacrificial blood, as well as the other wedding guests.
Although Gilla appeared amused by the ritual, the sight of sprinkled blood upon her face and hair made Alarr uneasy. He watched as the wise woman then sprinkled the boar’s blood on each of the guests. But instead of the guests revering the offering, there seemed to be an unspoken message passing among several of the warriors. Alarr could not shake the feeling that this was an omen of bloodshed to come.
Let my brothers be safe, he prayed to the gods. Let them come back alive.
Alarr watched the men, his attention caught by the tall Irish king. He didn’t know if Feann
