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Dara awoke at the knocking on her door. She brushed her hair from her face, placed her cloak over her body, holding the ends together. Opening the door, she squinted against the early morning sun, slowly focusing on Serle standing at her door. She heard a noise behind him. Taking a step out, she noticed Park struggling with Sinséar while hitching him up to her cart. She turned her head and groaned.
“We are here to escort you to your wedding.”
“I’ll meet you there later.”
“We are under orders to accompany you.”
“I promised I would be at the wedding. Tell my father-.”
“Queen Enid actually requested you arrive early, something about preparations.”
Dara sighed. She knew the wedding was to be in the early evening, so that those who wished to attend the ceremony had the day to continue planting their fields before the service.
“Why bring my cart? I can walk on my own.”
“Another request of the queen, she didn’t say why. But Lothar asked us to bring four bottles of mead.”
She glared at Serle. “How can I be sure they’re for Lothar and not a way for you to get more mead?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“I’ll bring out the mead after I dress. While you’re waiting, check the garden for some carrots for Sinséar, he’ll behave better when he’s fed.
“I doubt that, but I’ll try.”
“Also, place some grain for the sheep, so they are fed.”
“But I’m in my finest clothing.” Serle held out his arms.
“You can explain that to the queen if I don’t return in time.”
Dara heard Serle grumbling as he walked towards the garden, then she stepped back, closed the door and removed her cloak. She picked up her linen dress and placed it over her head, sliding the material into place over her body. She combed through her matted hair until free of tangles.
Placing the comb on the table, she glanced at the manacles on her wrists. She thought about the night she was chosen by the Goddess Danu to be Priestess of the Sisters of the Stone Circle. She couldn’t just give up her role when she married Lothar, she would have to talk with the knee-bender about the ceremony. There had to be away for her to remain a priestess, yet fulfill her father’s command for a Catholic ceremony. She knew he was trying to protect her, but wasn’t that the real reason why Lothar was to marry her, for her protection.
Dara rubbed her fingers over her eyes and scanned the room and spotted the worn leather book for Priestesses of Sisters of the Stone Circle. Determined to keep the precious book away from probing eyes, she glanced around for a place to hide it, then glanced to her bed. She pulled the pallet to the side, then opened the door to the sub-terrain. Grabbing the Priestesses book from the table, she carried it down the steps, touching the walls to guide her in the darkened space until hearing the small clink of glass under her fingers. She followed the bottles until patting an open space. She placed the book on the shelf, then removed four bottles of mead and carried them in her hands back up the stairs, and placed them on the table. She closed the door and pushed back the pallet, then swept dust over the marks on the floor.
She took a final glance over the room, then nodded. She grabbed her sewing basket and emptied the contents onto the table and placing the bottles inside it for the journey in the cart. Picking up the basket, she opened the door and walked out. She bit her lips watching Serle wipe the dust from his clothing, while Park rubbed his thigh when he limped towards her.
“Are you certain you wish to wed Lothar, Priestess? I know we haven’t gotten to know each other, but I wouldn’t mind-.”
Dara quickly handed Park the basket of mead. “Thank you for your offer, Park. Lothar has already gained my father’s consent.”
Park walked next to Dara as she made her way towards the cart. He placed the basket into the cart, then turned and helped her into the cart.
“Well if you change your mind, I’m sure Vaughn would approve.”
Dara clinched her hands in her lap, and took a deep breath. “Thank you, but no.” She watched him nod and walk towards her pony’s head, and grabbed the lead linen noting Sinséar’s ears flattened backwards.
“Look you silly pony, I’ve got a treat for you.”
Dara heard Serle say as he stood a few feet in front of the pony holding out the carrots. Suddenly the cart lurched forward. She grasped the edges of her cloak and placed them between the clanking bottles, then held on to the sides of the cart as it bounced along the path.
* * *
“YOU ARE SURE HE LIVES here,” Lothar said to Sean.
“Brother Michael told me to come here. Now you just stand there and I’ll do the talking.”
Lothar knocked on the door and waited next to the Abbot. The door opened a crack, and a dark-haired woman answered the door.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“We are here to speak to Guthrie,” said Sean.
The woman stepped back as a hand from behind her reached over her head and pulled the door open. “Yes, I’m Guthrie.”
“I’m here for the two rings,” said Lothar.
“Do you have the two bottles of mead?”
“I’ll give you the two bottles of mead after the ceremony.”
Guthrie lifted his chin and crossed his arms. “No mead, no rings.”
Inhaling, Lothar clinched his fingers while starred down at the metallurgist. Sean put a hand up. “Can you bring them to the ceremony?” asked the Abbot.
Lothar watched Guthrie’s lip twisted into a snarl, and mutter. “I will be there.”
“Bring out the rings so that I can see them,” ordered Lothar.
“When I see the bottles, you’ll see the rings.”
“Lothar let me talk with Guthrie alone. I’ll meet you back at the garrison,” suggested Sean.
Lothar glanced at Sean then to Guthrie. Giving a quick nod, Lothar turned and walked down the path, then looked back as the Abbot went inside the hut.
Lothar walked back towards the garrison and waved at the guards as he moved towards the entry gate. The two men stepped in front of him crossing their lances. “You can’t enter.”
“Stop jesting, you both know I’m to wed Dara today.” He stepped forward, but the guards remained in his path.
“By order of the queen, you can’t enter until just before the ceremony.”
“Tell the king I am here. He will allow me to enter.”
“He is in the practice field waiting for you.”
“I’ll be back soon with the king.” Lothar turned and stormed towards the field he used during the villagers training sessions.
He spotted the king standing in the middle of the muddy field with a sword in each hand. “Malachy, explain why your wife is keeping me from the garrison,” Lothar said while walking toward the king.
“She’s preparing Dara for the ceremony. I promised her I’d keep you occupied until just before the wedding.”
“Send out your men to keep me occupied then, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’ve trained people in your way of battle, now it’s your turn to learn. Choose which weapon to use.” Malachy held out the swords by the hilt, pointing downward.
“Makes no difference, I will not fight you.” Lothar turned and steps away.
“No weapons, good choice.”
Hearing the man’s footfalls slurping through the mud behind him, Lothar turned his head, spotting Malachy just before the man tackled him. Shaking the dark slop from his face, Lothar pushed up to stand, only to be pushed down into the muck again by the king’s hand on his back.
“Had enough, Norseman?” taunted Malachy.
Rising to his feet, Lothar noted the man backed up a few steps. “Very well, old man; show me what you can do.” Crouching, Lothar charged towards Malachy, grasping him around his waist, as the king twisted his body, causing Lothar to trip over Malachy’s outstretched leg and fall to the ground again.
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
Lothar narrowed his eyes and stood. “That’s two, Malachy, you won’t get a third.” Lothar stormed towards Malachy, hurling his shoulder against Malachy’s chest, knocking him backwards.
“Finally, some fight out of you,” Malachy said rubbing the back of his head as he rose and turned to Lothar. “You just might be worthy of her.” Malachy raised his clenched fists.
Lothar side-stepped closer to Malachy, keeping his fists level with his chest. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Malachy lunged forward, grasped Lothar around the waist with his right hand while repeatedly punching Lothar in the ribs with his left. Lothar raised his clasped hands, slamming his arms down Malachy’s shoulders and back, knocking him downward. Malachy grabbed Lothar’s ankle and pulled hard, throwing him to the muck.
Sitting in the soggy ground, Lothar grabbed a handful of mud and threw it at Malachy, splattering mud over his chest. Malachy returned fire with more handfuls towards Lothar.
Soon, they were laughing as they continued slinging mud at each other, mud caking them from head to foot.
“King Malachy? Lothar?”
Lothar stopped mid-throw when he heard Abbot Sean call out his name, only to be hit with a mud-ball against his shoulder.
Lothar turned back to throw the ball in his hand.
“Drop it, Lothar,” said Sean as he slowly walked towards them.
Lothar turned to Malachy, noticing the king’s empty hands, raised eyebrow, and a slight nod before releasing the mud to fall from his hand.
“Queen Enid sent me to find the two of you. If you don’t hurry and wash up, you’ll miss your own wedding.” Sean slipped in the mud and landed on his buttocks.
Lothar joined Malachy in a huge belly laugh.
Stifling their snickers, the two of them walked over to Sean, and together they hauled the Abbot from the mud and helped him out of the field and back toward the garrison.
“Enid will be furious with me if I track mud into the fortress.”
“I don’t think Dara would appreciate me showing up covered in mud either.”
“What the two of you need is a bath,” said Sean. “I just need to change my robes.”
“Heating water for a tub will take too long,” said Malachy.
“Sean, take Malachy with you to get cleaned up, and let him borrow a robe of yours.”
“How do you expect me to clean the mud from my face and hair?”
“Use the water in the barrels.”
“That water’s very cold,” argued Malachy. “I’ll have some heated over a fire.”
“Fine, you wait for it. I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going? The ceremony will be held near sunset and its mid-afternoon already.”
“I’m not going to wait for water to warm. I’ll just go for a quick swim in the river.” He turned to leave.
“I’ll send a guard to your room with the clothing Enid chose for you for the wedding.”
“Thank you, Malachy, I won’t be long.”
“A moment Lothar,” Sean grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving. “After you left Guthrie’s home, I convinced him to give me the rings.” He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a leather draw-string bag. “You and Dara will be proud to wear them.” Pulling apart the strings, Sean opened the bag and shook them into Lothar’s hand.
“I don’t know how to thank you and Guthrie.”
“You still owe him the two bottles of mead. I only convinced him of the fact that I hadn’t seen him at mass lately, and he could give me the rings until the ceremony as an act of good faith.”
Lothar glanced at Fenris, the wolf-head design that matched his cuffs, and the interlinking spirals, similar to Dara’s manacles, on the silver bands. Tilting them in the light, he turned the bands until he spotted the inscription, then smiled. He placed them into the bag and handed it back to Sean. “Thank you, Sean. And you’re right I will be proud to wear mine as I hope Dara will be too.”
“You won’t know until you place it on her finger, so you better hurry back,” said Sean as he patted Lothar, then looked at his hand, wiping the mud from his fingers.
Lothar waved to Malachy and Sean then hurried towards the river.
