Ice Maiden. Debra Lee Brown

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      George followed her into the longhouse, which was already packed with people. Tables were jammed into every available space, and laden with fare—roasted mutton, bread, and a half-dozen kinds of cheese. Flagons of honeyed mead were placed within easy reach of every diner.

      The air, as always, was thick and smoky. The central fire blazed. George welcomed the heat, for the weather had turned. By nightfall snow was expected and, from what the elders predicted, in no small measure.

      “Ho, Scotsman!” A burly islander slapped George on the back. “Have a go at this rooftree, man, so we can see of what you’re made.” The man pointed at one of the thick timber pillars supporting the low longhouse roof.

      George had no idea what the man wanted him to do.

      Rika beckoned him to the high-placed table where she sat with Lawmaker. “Nay, you need not partake of such foolishness.”

      “Come on, man,” the islander said. “Draw that fine sword she’s given you and see how far you can sink it into the wood.”

      George followed the man’s gaze to the timber pillar, which he now noticed was riddled with scars. Still he did not understand. Men crowded around him, spurring him on.

      “’Twill predict the luck of the marriage,” one of them said.

      “Oh, I see.” George nodded his head, but he didn’t see at all.

      “It’s a test of virility, of manhood.” The burly islander slapped his back again. “The deeper you sink your weapon…” He cast a lusty smile toward Rika, who blushed crimson with rage. “Well, you…understand, do you not?”

      George understood, all right. “Why not?” he said, enjoying Rika’s discomfort. He drew the sword and raised it double-fisted over his head as instructed by the men. The room went deadly quiet.

      Rika glared at him, her eyes twin daggers. He grinned at her, drew a breath and, with all his might, plunged the sword into the wood.

      “Hurrah!” The shout went up as a dozen beefy hands slapped him on the back, a few reaching up to rumple his hair. ’Twas all fair amusing.

      The burly islander grunted as he pulled the sword from the timber, carefully measuring off the length that had been embedded. Apparently, George had done quite a good job of it, for the men howled as the burly one held the weapon aloft for all to see. After George had been congratulated a dozen times over, the crowd pushed him toward the table where his bride waited, her face the color of ripe cherries.

      “You did not have to do that,” she seethed.

      “I know, but I enjoyed it.” He smiled again, just to taunt her. He had enjoyed it, but reminded himself that his brother was dead, and that he was far from home.

      Too far. ’Twas easy to forget amidst such revelry who he was and why he participated in such pagan rites.

      He scanned the faces in the room, and nodded at those he recognized. Most of the men seemed to accept him, which he thought odd. Others—Ingolf, in particular—spared him naught but menacing glances.

      “Here,” Rika said, and pushed a strange-looking vessel toward him. “The bridal cup. You must drink from it, and I will do the same.”

      The handles were carved into the likeness of a fantastical sea creature. Never had he seen such a thing. George grasped the handles, brought the cup to his lips, and drank. What else? Honeyed mead. Another cheer went up. He screwed his face up as the sweet liquor hit his senses. Nay, there was no hope of a decent ale for fifty leagues.

      Three days’ sail.

      He passed the cup to Rika and she drained it.

      “There,” she said to Lawmaker. “It’s done. All rituals complete.”

      “All but one,” Hannes said, and rose from his seat on the opposite side of the table. “Grant,” he said,

      “your hammer.”

      “Nay.” Rika visibly stiffened beside him. “I won’t have it.”

      “It’s custom,” Hannes said, and the crowd cheered him on.

      George wondered what, exactly, this custom signified, to cause her such distress. He rose at their beckoning, slipped the hammer from his belt and handed it to the skald.

      “It’s ridiculous,” Rika hissed, and turned to Lawmaker as if he would put a stop to Hannes’s antics.

      George had no idea what was about to happen, but ’twas clear Lawmaker had no intention of stopping it.

      Hannes moved behind Rika, whose fists were СКАЧАТЬ