To Hadding she came last. A sigh went through the hall when she stopped and stooped before him. He had said nothing about seeking her. Yet they two had been much together this day. He waited stiffly, not altogether sure what she meant.

Ragnhild’s fingers searched over his calves. They found a spot, a small lump beneath a scar over the hard flesh. They roved and thrust.

She straightened. Her hands clasped his. Her voice rang. “Here is my man, he who slew the jotun! I laid a ring in his wound, that I might know him again, and now it has come back to me. Hadding, Dane-king, I will be yours.”

After that he could not do otherwise than say how glad he was, laugh at how she had outfoxed him, and promise gifts to those who drank his betrothal ale. In truth he was happy, though things had moved faster than he looked for. In his life they often did.

XXI

Overawed, the wooers spoke no word against him, but sought instead for his goodwill. King Haakon sent far and wide, bidding more come to the wedding feast. It took place as soon as might be, lasted for days, and was remembered for lifetimes. Foremost among the torchbearers who lighted the bridal pair to bed on the first night were Ivar and Thorfinn.

Hadding and Ragnhild bided through that winter in Nidaros. He wanted to talk at length with King Haakon and other high-standing men. They made plans, swore oaths, and bound themselves strongly to each other against any common foe. Thus after his losses in war he regained much.

Near the turning of the year, a thing happened stranger than aught that men had ever heard of.

The evening meal in the great hall had been early, as short as the days at this season were. Darkness had fallen outside. Fires, lamps, and rushlights cast a ruddy glow, but shadows were everywhere, uneasy, black above the crossbeams, misshapen upon the walls. Servants went to and fro with drink. Along the seats, rings, pins, brooches, and necklaces gleamed athwart the richness of furs and brocade on the well-born men, their ladies, and the warriors. Talk and laughter rolled like surf. The very hounds lolling on the floor were as cheerful.

Hadding and Ragnhild sat in the honor seat, across from her father and his wife in the high seat. Between these pairs a fire burned on its hearthstone. Though the newlyweds kept the bearing that behooved their rank, now and then they glanced at one another and smiled.