Saga - Chapter 17 - Part 2
Saga - Chapter 17 - Part 2
The hov’s dim interior was lit with many torches and two sacred lamps, and smelled strongly of wood-smoke, damp earth and stale blood.
Einnis’s face was fixed in solemnity as the godi brought forth the magnificent golden oath-ring and held it so that bride and groom could place a hand on it to swear their vows.
“… and to this I swear, so help me Frey, and Njord, and the most powerful of gods....”
Einnis listened to Arna’s calm voice reciting the marriage vow, and drew a deep breath, lowering his head. His brow furrowed in concentration as he too gave his solemn oath. He glanced at Arna, who stood with her head demurely bent under her magnificent veil, bit his lip and squared his shoulders. The godi nodded and stepped back, carefully placing the ring in its place in front of the hov’s wooden Frey statue.
Turning back to the bride and groom, he held out the silver cup of marriage mead for the couple to toast each other. Einnis startled as if waking from a dream, and reached out to carefully lift the veil away from Arna’s face. She looked up at him in the flickering torchlight. Her face was serious, but her eyes were very bright.
She toasted him and drank, looking fixedly at him over the rim of the cup. He received the cup from her, toasted her in turn with the required formality and drank, looking into her happy eyes. His hand twitched as she stepped closer and placed her hand over his, gripping the cup with him. The both of them turned to the inner sanctum to toast Frey, whose magnificent erect member was glistening darkly in the torchlight of the inner sanctum. The bride and groom bent their heads close together to sip from the cup that they now both held, and then bowed low before the god.
The time had come to recite the ceremonial wedding prayer. Einnis spoke clearly and well, but it sounded as if his mouth was dry despite the recent sips of mead.
“Hail to you, day...”
Arna also spoke her part, her voice pitched lower than usual, ending on a breathless note as she reached the conclusion.
“…And healing hands all life long!”
Einnis righted himself and gave the finely wrought cup to the godi. He and Arna both stepped back, and then turned on their heels to face the guests present inside the hov’s dark and narrow walls. Mjod was there, and Ketil, Sigrid and Torgeirr, Arna’s three sisters and their husbands, and a goodly number of other clan members. They had all gathered to watch this important union, and to celebrate this new alliance between their two clans.
Einnis’s features seemed stiff and his steps carefully measured as he walked past his family. Torgeirr patted him briefly on the back as he went by. He stepped out of the hov and walked among the guests and spectators to where the sacrificial animal was waiting, received the long sharp blot knife from the attendant, and looked at the horse. It stood peacefully, tossing its head a little and looking at Einnis with mild, patient eyes under the brown mane. Einnis looked away briefly as the knife sank home, and wasn’t completely prepared when the docile horse reared violently back in panic as its life ended. A muted gasp rose from the crowd of spectators as blood spurted into the air from the severed jugular, splattering over Einnis’s outstretched hands and staining the front of his sky-blue tunic, a thin streak of crimson like a knife-slash across his chest.
With some struggling and the help of the hov’s attendant Einnis nevertheless managed to bring the horse down and to collect the required bowl of fresh blood to bring back into the hov. He dipped his hands in the bucket of water provided for such emergencies and dried them off hastily on a piece of cloth, his one hand still dripping crimson-tinged drops as he stepped back over the hov’s threshold and away from all the prying eyes, letting the door swing shut behind him.
The godi accepted the bowl of blood from his hands and turned towards the gods’ statues, continually muttering imprecations as he smeared the blood liberally on each of the three wooden bases. The smell of the steaming fresh blood permeated the smoky air and made breathing increasingly difficult in the narrow room. Einnis resumed his place directly next to Arna, and unobtrusively pulled his new cloak firmly from over his left shoulder so that it covered his chest.
Once the bowl was empty, the godi bent over it in the light of one of the sacred lamps, pondering the blood patterns and their significance, mulling over the crimson-stained silver vessel and its message. He looked up at Einnis and Arna. “I cannot see clearly what children your future holds, but there will be children in your lives. I see no ill omens. The signs are good.” There was a small sound from Arna, quickly stifled, and a low uncertain murmur of approval from the assembled guests.
The ceremony was over, and Einnis and Arna walked hand in hand out of the hov. The crowd outside cheered mightily as was the custom, and each family member to exit from the hov into the crisp autumn air embraced both Einnis and Arna with many smiles and words of joy and congratulation.
The bridal party’s ride back to Mjod’s farm was stately and full of pomp. Arna in her elaborately decorated dress and glittering jewelry reached out her hand to Einnis. They rode side by side, holding hands while of necessity looking ahead or away from each other as they waved to the cheering well-wishers along the way.
Arna squeezed Einnis’s hand, her grip sure and surprisingly forceful, but her hand icy cold. The day was overcast, there was a bitter blustering wind to contend with, and she was wearing no concealing cloak. Without turning to his wife, Einnis responded in kind and pressed her hand, enclosing it in his own to warm her freezing fingers.
In this way the young couple returned to Mjod’s farm to begin their married life with a magnificent wedding feast.
---
Mjod had not stinted when preparing to marry off his beloved and youngest daughter. There was fine food aplenty, and the drinking horns overflowed with good ale, mead and even wine. The newlyweds and the many guests ate and drank their way slowly through an impressive range of courses. Many toasts were spoken, laughter and loud talk rang from every corner, and there was music and dancing in the yard. Einnis had changed his tunic to a spare one as soon as he returned to the farm, and now once more his clothes appeared as stately and costly as Arna’s. Several times the bride and groom had to leave the table hand in hand and go out to greet visiting neighbors, servants and free-men who had not been seated as guests in the main hall, but who wanted to see the couple in all their finery and to cheer loudly - and increasingly drunkenly.
Sitting at the high table, Einnis now and then leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Torgeirr, who had been seated four places to his left. Torgeirr and Sigrid had been delayed in their journey to Mjod’s, and had only arrived the evening before the wedding. Due to their late arrival they were being housed at a neighboring farm. Einnis had barely had the opportunity to greet them at all, and there had been no chance to talk privately. Torgeirr had nevertheless managed to blurt out the news about the birth of his son, Sverri, happily grinning from ear to ear, and earning a cuff from Sigrid for speaking out of turn.
Seated at the table Torgeirr was talking to the husband of Arna’s oldest sister, whose home was well south of Kaupang. Einnis lifted his mead horn to drink, slow and measured sips, his eyes seeking Torgeirr and then closing in concentration as he did so. It was barely possible to make out what Torgeirr was saying.
“This fall has been a long row of feasts, one after the other - I’m exhausted from good cheer! Everyone should be so lucky! First there was the naming feast for my son, Sverri - yes, his mother is Irish, he’s a strong, fine boy - and then we had a big Liberation Ale feast in Kaupang for Sverri’s mother and another Irish thrall of mine.” The other man said something Einnis couldn’t hear, and Torgeirr laughed. “No, I’m not freeing all my thralls, how would I ever manage my farms if I did? But I won’t let my son live in shame with an ambatt for a mother, and as for the other I suppose you could say he is her common-law husband. The boy will stay with them.”
The other man said something in reply, clearly not applauding Torgeirr’s kindness towards thralls if his disapproving tone was anything to go by, but Torgeirr only chuckled. “Well, it has made for a lot of good cheer and more ale than I’ve ever had before, so it can’t be all bad! And here Mjod is treating us with hospitality and food and drink fit for the hall of Odin himself and his warriors, - cheers! - and of course the disablot is right around the corner! I swear I’m getting bloated, soon I won’t be able to ride a horse, I’ll be too heavy. I’ve been eating more than Tor at Trym’s wedding, and faster than Logi at Utgard-Loki’s eating contest!”
Torgeirr laughed merrily and toasted the other man once more, and he on his side, obviously well into his cups, launched into a loud and lengthy tale about an especially rowdy feast he’d arranged to welcome his nephew back from his first summer of raiding. Torgeirr did not speak more than the occasional monosyllable for a good long while, and Einnis turned to attentively talk with Mjod and to once more praise the feast.
Eventually Torgeirr excused himself and left the table to make a necessary trip outside. Einnis’s eyes followed him for a moment, then he too rose, muttering the proper polite excuses to his wife and his father-in-law, and hurried through the festive crowd. He caught up with Torgeirr just as they both rounded the corner of the hall, stepping along the muddy track behind the house to the men’s latrine trench. They were not alone. Other wedding guests in a hurry jostled them as they walked - the bowls of good strong ale put a constant strain on everyone’s bladders.
“I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you yet. A strong son, it must make you proud!” Einnis said as they stood side by side, fumbling with the laces of their trousers. “I’m happy for you. Is your ambatt well?”
“She’s fine, she’s moved to Kaupang and is living there now with Sverri and that Jaran of yours.” Torgeirr let out a small sigh of relief as his steaming yellow arch hit the bottom of the trench. “Aaah - by Tor’s big balls, that feels good!”
Einnis didn’t reply while adding his equally strong and long-lasting stream.
Torgeirr glanced at Einnis speculatively. “Your thrall bought his freedom with the gold you gave him. I don’t see why you sold him to me first. Why didn’t you just liberate him yourself, if that was the intention?”
Einnis looked down, suddenly focused on doing up his laces.
“I had my reasons,” he eventually muttered.
Torgeirr shook his head and waited a beat. “Of course you did. Well, I won’t make you tell me what’s going on, but I hope you won’t spring many more surprises on me like that. I might get the notion you don’t trust me.”
Einnis looked up sharply, biting his lip. “I do trust you, Torgeirr. I trust you more than I trust Ketil in this. Is that not answer enough, for now?” He turned and hurriedly stepped out of the way of a big man who heedlessly and frantically was rushing up to the edge of the trench, separating the two brothers-in-law for a moment.
It was Torgeirr’s turn to be pensive, and they walked back through the din in the yard without speaking more together.
---
Many more toasts were made in the hall, more food and drink were served, the day turned to evening and then to night. The bridal couple was looking pale and pinched and a little the worse for wear as the time finally came for their family members to light them to the bridal chamber, several of the men carrying newly lit torches. Many of the revelers were stumbling on their feet, some from strong drink and others from weariness. The mood was elated and raunchy, and suggestive advice and crude jokes rang out into the night as those walking nearest the couple jostled Einnis good-naturedly, and laughed uproariously.
Arna kissed her father and each of her sisters and ducked through the door to their bridal chamber, but Einnis did as custom demanded and remained outside, his brothers-in-law and Ketil crowding around him and thumping him on the back, encouraging him to outperform their clan’s expectations of virility.
“Now let loose for once and enjoy yourself,” Ketil slurred, leaning sideways heavily to whisper noisily in the general vicinity of Einnis’s ear. “There’s nothing better in the world than fucking a warm and willing woman, when all is said and done. After all those many lonely months with nothing but your hand for company, your cock can never get wet enough. Get to it, brother!”
Torgeirr somehow managed to jostle Ketil to the side, laughing disarmingly and clapping Einnis on the shoulder in his turn. “Go ahead now, Einnis. You don’t want to keep Arna waiting any longer - she’s eager to know what all the fuss is about, I’ll wager, and she’s been patiently waiting for you too long as it is!”
With that the door finally swung shut, leaving the drunken men and their salacious suggestions outside. Einnis quickly barred it, as was the custom. There was no knowing what dead-drunk wedding guests might later want to do or where they’d take it in their heads to enter.
He squared his shoulders and turned to Arna. She was sitting on the bench in front of the blazing hearth and was in the process of calmly removing her many pieces of jewelry one by one, placing them in a wooden box on the bench by her side.
She looked up at him and smiled tiredly. “Now I know what these lengthy wedding revels are good for - they are meant to make the bride so weary there’s no risk she’ll run from the groom when the time comes to lead the two of them to bed!”
Einnis exhaled, his tense shoulders relaxing a little. “All things in equal measure, Arna. If the bride was to run, this groom would be much too tired to give chase,” he said, taking the few steps over to sit down heavily by her side, though not close enough to be touching her. Arna finished with the jewelry, then carefully removed her artfully tied veil, and next started taking down her hair, her eyes downcast now, and a bright and becoming blush on her face. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“You do not look like you want to run,” Einnis observed.
Arna’s long brown hair fell loose about her, cascading over her shoulders and floating down her back She shook her head in reply, glancing up at him and going serious. “If anything, I’ve wanted to run to you and not from you these many months. I’m not about to change my mind or have second thoughts now, Einnis Eldhug, when we’re finally alone together and I can have you to myself. The wait has been long, and the days have passed slowly since we last met.”
“It has been a very long year, in truth,” Einnis agreed with a sigh, leaning back against the wall and briefly closing his eyes.
Arna stood from the bench. She’d put her shoulder brooches aside with the rest of the jewelry: Arm-rings, finger-rings, strands of gold amulets and beads. Now her costly overdress, free of its straps, slithered down her body. It pooled around her feet in ripples of finest, clearest blue shot with shimmering gold, as if she was standing in a sunny summertime pond.
“That’s better,” she murmured. “It’s felt so constraining, wearing all this fabric and the heavy jewels…..”
She looked down over herself, the sheer linen underdress displaying the contours of her body and the shape of her breasts and hips to their full advantage. Einnis watched her as she stepped carefully out of the silken pond and went to fetch a jug and a wine cup that were waiting for them by the bed.
“Arna…” he said thickly, uncertainly, going silent again while she poured wine into the green glass cup. Her train of linen whispered over the floor as she returned, sitting down so near him that their thighs were now touching. She silently toasted him and offered him the brimming cup.
“I noticed that you didn’t drink much today during the hours of feasting,” she said, her voice low.
“Neither did you.” Einnis said. “Ale makes men stupid and reckless, saying things they will regret, doing things they want undone. I wanted to be sure to govern my words and actions and to behave with honor at my own wedding.”
He closed his eyes and drank deeply, downing the golden liquid in several thirsty gulps, before handing the cup back to her.
“Yes,” she said, drinking in her turn, hurriedly swallowing the wine. “I’m glad you remember your pride. Too much strong drink, and we would have risked forgetting this - this day, and this night - and I don’t want that. I want to remember. I want to remember all of it.” A crimson flush spread over her cheeks and down her neck to where the white linen dress covered her skin. She met his eyes, took another draught, the last one, and exhaled. The cup was empty.
“It is late……” She set the cup to the side and placed her hand palm down on his thigh.
Einnis leaned down to unfasten the ties down the legs of his trousers. He took off his boots, loosened his silver-encrusted belt and put it aside, and pulled his second best tunic over his head. He rose to his feet, taking Arna’s hands in his own, and hesitantly pulled her up into his arms, a question in his eyes as they met hers. She quickly threw her thin arms around his neck and hid her face in the crook of his neck, burrowing into him.
“Oh, Einnis. At last! At last we have come this far. I have longed for you, longed so to be with you, and the wait has seemed endless at times….”
She pressed herself against him, offering her mouth up for kisses. Einnis bent down over her dutifully, his lips seeking hers. They stood in a tight embrace for a while, the kisses growing deeper and Einnis’s hold on Arna more insistent, her breasts pressing against his chest, and his slowly stiffening cock rubbing against her abdomen, where she could hardly fail to feel it despite the two layers of fabric that still separated them.
At last Arna wrenched herself out of her new husband’s grip with an effort, flustered and breathless, and walked backwards to the bed, wiping a hand over her red and swollen lips. She sat down on the edge in front of the heaped down pillows and duvets.
“You should undress,” she said plainly and evenly, her eyes bright and wide open though she was crimson, her fingers digging into the mattress. “No distance and no barriers between us from this day on - I want to see you, husband.”
He glanced at her briefly and nodded, a stiff jerk of the head, and wordlessly pulled off his trousers, standing on the floor in bare feet and with a distinct bulge now showing under the long under-tunic. He held back for a moment, standing still, his eyes dropping to the floor before determinedly returning to look into hers. Right in front of her he pulled the last garment off and cast it aside.
There was no sound in the room but a faint crackling of the fire on the hearth, and outside in the distance some over-excited wedding guests were hollering as they continued their revelries. The heated air made the tapestries on the walls flutter and the darkness in the corners come alive. Einnis’s skin pebbled helplessly with goose-bumps. In the flickering fire from the hearth golden-red light and blue-black shadows chased each other across his skin.
Arna sighed, a soft little throaty sound that reached out to bridge the space between them. She stood and calmly opened the fine brooch that still held her under-dress closed at her throat, Einnis’s gift to her from one long year ago. The blue stone glinted brightly in the firelight as she removed the sheer linen dress, but the brown one looked dull, and the crimson drop in the middle seemed nearly black, like the dried scab on an old wound.
Naked, she made the last gliding step to meet him, once more winding her arms about his neck, clinging to him and pushing up against him. He gasped at the sensation of her long hair flowing over his shoulders, her warm skin against his, her speeding heart outracing his beat for beat, and helplessly grasped her, pulling her even closer, his hands sliding down her back to find her buttocks, softness yielding to his rough caresses. He was grinding against her now, his breath loud and fast. Arna moaned and whispered his name, molding herself against him, her yielding body moving impatiently, her palms pressing and stroking his skin, her tongue seeking his and finding it. Their kisses at once turned deep and frantic. They stumbled backwards to the bed.
She was pliant and warm, open and welcoming, she was sweetly curious and eager and right there, murmuring a few breathless endearments as she met him and answered him and held on, her gasps and his groans mingling and rising to the ceiling above them. She was soft where he’d become used to hardness, she was smooth where he had come to expect calluses, she was his to hold and to have and to possess, she smelled of fall flowers and healthy sweat and heated skin.
She was his lawful wife in front of the gods and the whole wide world, and Einnis gratefully sank into the sheltering forgetfulness she offered, reveled in it and went under in it and for one brief blessed moment found release from everything that weighed on his heart and on his mind.
Tbc………..
Notes and explanations;
Halsloyising - The term literally translated means “the freeing of someone’s neck” and is actually used in the laws concerning liberation of thralls. The master liberating a thrall is to take the “halsloysing” from either the neck of the thrall or the ram - it is believed it may have been a pouch with the sum of money in payment for the liberation.
Liberation Ale Feast - this actually is the title of the “ceremony” in the laws, and it was legally required that the ceremony should take place with the elements that is described in the fic, including the cutting off of a ram’s head.
Tor at Trym’s wedding - The poem “Trymskvida” tells how Tor disguises himself as Freya and travels to the giant Trym, pretending to arrive as the giant’s eager bride. His face hidden under the linen veil, Tor nevertheless manages to eat a whole ox, eight salmon, lots of dainty dishes and to drink three barrels of mead during the wedding proceedings.
Loki’s eating contest - this comes from one of the myths that has Loki competing at speed-eating with a servant named Logi while visiting with a giant tellingly named Utgarda-Loki. Loki manages to keep up with Logi, but only barely, and afterwards it turns out that Logi has not only eaten all the food, but the table too, so he wins. (Ultimately it is however revealed that Loki has in fact been competing with fire, and nothing is more voracious than that).
Valkyries - minor female deities, shield-maidens, counted among the Diser. They ride to battle and decide which fallen warriors will be welcomed into Odin’s home Valhall after death.