Chapter Two

      A fortnight later, a Danish maidservant fussed about Endredi as they stood in Bayard’s bower. They had been told to wait there until the marriage ceremony, while Dagfinn and the others had gone immediately to the hall.

      Thick, colorful tapestries hung over the wattle and daub walls. The chest of the bride’s goods stood in a corner. Other, larger wooden boxes were placed throughout the room, a testament to the groom’s wealth. There were also two intricately carved stools beside a delicate round table upon which sat a jug and two silver chalices. Light came from a many-branched iron rod bearing several tallow candles. A large bed, ornately carved and hung with heavy curtains, dominated one end of the building.

      The older woman brushed off Endredi’s gown, straightened her belt and tidied a stray wisp of her mistress’s thick, red-gold hair.

      “Will you please stop?” Endredi asked, trying to keep annoyance from her voice and reminding herself it was simply Helmi’s way to be always hovering about like an insect.

      “Dagfinn said you had to look—”

      “Beautiful?” Endredi looked at Helmi skeptically. “I look presentable—beautiful will be for Bayard to decide.”

      “Unless the man is stupid and blind, he can’t help but think so. Still, he is a Saxon, so who can say how his mind might work? Everyone knows they are all vicious, horrible barbarians—”

      “You have done your best,” Endredi said, interrupting the woman before she began another tirade against the Saxons. Endredi knew that there could be good Saxons as well as bad, just as there were good and bad Danes.

      “I don’t know what that oaf Dagfinn is trying to do, marrying off his brother’s widow to some Saxon.”

      “Dagfinn seeks peace.”

      “Huh! I think I am not the only old woman among the Danes here! When I was young, a man was glad to fight. Wanted to fight. Dagfinn is a coward.”

      Endredi put her finger to her lips. “Take care, Helmi, lest he hear your insult.”

      Helmi straightened her slim shoulders. “Well, he and his men could not win a battle if Odin himself was on their side.”

      Endredi could not argue with her servant’s observation. Indeed, Dagfinn’s thoughts were all too obvious, despite his attempts at subtlety. Nevertheless, she felt duty bound by her respect for her dead husband to say, “Dagfinn may be acting with more wisdom than you think. After all, who among his people would marry a woman of my ill luck? Besides,” she finished, “Dagfinn is the chieftain, so I must obey.”

      “I do not believe Dagfinn thinks of anything but his silver and his belly. And where would he be if he didn’t have Bera to oversee everything?”

      “I shall miss her.”

      “I will not. A harder mistress never breathed, I can tell you.”

      “She was always kind to me,” Endredi answered truthfully, although now she knew why Helmi had offered to go with her to the Saxon village. Obviously Helmi considered even the Saxons less threatening than Bera.

      As for Endredi, she would miss Bera, but she had always been alone. Even as a child, she had had few friends. The sins of her mother had made her an object of curiosity and scorn, and she had soon learned that sometimes it was better to be alone than to be questioned, or worse, pitied.

      “I almost forgot!” Helmi cried, hurrying to Endredi’s small chest. “Dagfinn said to be sure you wore this.” She took out a jeweled crucifix.

      Endredi stood motionless while Helmi put it over her head. She had heard that Bayard’s priest had asked if his future wife was a Christian.

      She put her hand to the crucifix. Thanks to her stepmother, she understood the Christians’ beliefs and indeed found it no hardship to believe them, too. When a priest had traveled to their village, she had been baptized. Nonetheless, she wore an amulet of Freya beneath her gown. Surely the Christian god would understand that it was hard to ignore the old beliefs.

      “I have never seen such an enormous building as that hall,” Helmi said. “I wonder what it is like inside. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if the tapestries are full of gold thread.”

      When Endredi didn’t respond, Helmi went on. “It is also a good thing you speak that Saxon language, although I must say it has a most horrible sound to it.”

      “My mother was a Saxon.”

      “Oh, yes, well then, have you heard anything about Bayard? His looks, I mean.”

      Helmi’s eyes gleamed eagerly, and Endredi knew she would hear what Helmi had learned whether she wanted to or not; however, Bayard’s appearance mattered less to her than the way he would treat a foreign wife. “Dagfinn said he is not old,” Endredi said slowly.

      “A mature man and no foolish youth, thank the gods. Handsome, too, I hear.”

      “He is a respected leader.”

      “He wears fine clothes and much jewelry, Erik said.”

      “If he were not just and good, surely he would not have so many men under his command.”

      “He washes regularly and trims his beard.”

      “I hope he will be patient.”

      “He has no children.”

      Helmi’s last announcement caught Endredi’s attention. “No children?”

      She shook her head. “And he’s been married at least two times.”

      “Oh?”

      “Still, I hear he is quite virile. Rumors abound that he has bedded dozens of women.”

      “And yet no children?”

      “Not one.”

      “How could anyone you know come by that knowledge?” Endredi asked, her immediate surprise replaced by suspicion.

      “I heard some of the men talking about it.”

      “Why would any Danes know about Bayard’s children?”

      That seemed to shake Helmi’s confidence in her sources. Which was quite as it should be. Surely Helmi could have no valid information concerning Bayard’s wives or women or children. Nonetheless, Helmi’s gossip had disturbed her. Endredi had agreed to this marriage because she had few alternatives, but also because she dearly wanted