Finally they saw the walls of Rouen's castle. From count Guillaume's perspective, it was impressive, even if it still was far away from him. The white walls were high and he was sure they could reach the sky. The city was linked to the other shore of the river by a few bridges. He could see a few boats secured in what seemed like a harbour. The city was smaller than Paris, but it was big anyway. He could hear the noise merchants made and when he looked around him in the countryside, he could only see fields, apple trees and farms. There was not any doubt anymore: the land was rich and prosperous. The count knew it before, but it was only now that he fully realized it.
They cast the anchor not far away from the city. Guillaume was relieved to feel the ground again. If he had stayed one more hour in the boat, he was sure he would have jumped out of it.
- Why are we stopping there, he asked his homonym.
- We cannot go further forward. The bridges would stop us from going to the harbour and moving the longboat to put it in the place would take too much time and energy. So, we'll ride to my father's castle.
- Perfect.
The count highly prefered the movements of his horse to the movements of a boat. Geirlaug was beautiful this day. She was glowing with joy. She was wearing the same dress she wore when she arrived in Paris. All of this made Guillaume's mind filled with memories. He sighed. She was so beautiful and graceful. It was a delight to see her in her environment.
Once mounted on their horse, they were rejoined by the rest of the convoy. All followed the two heirs of the duke of Normannia to Rouen, the capital of the duchy. To Guillaume's surprise, the wolf followed them to Rouen. He looked at Geirlaug to see if she noticed, but she was focused on the city. He smiled to himself. He nodded discretely to the wolf as a greeting and then went back to looking at the road in front of him. Maybe it would also follow them to Aquitaine after their wedding, who knows, he thought.
When they got closer to Rouen, Guillaume fully realized how big the castle was. It dominated the whole city. When they crossed the city, he noticed how diverse the people were. There was a lot of merchants and he even saw some northmen among the people. He recognized them to their clothes, the patterns embroidered on them, their tattoos, hair, jewels and shields. A few were carrying axes. Yet, despite this, he saw how delicate their patterns seemed and how refined their jewels were. How could his former friend have ever thought Normannia or even Vikings as barbaric? Seeing this would have probably changed his mind. But perhaps he wasn't such a good man after all.
While they were riding across the city, a few people came to see and cheered on their way. Apparently, they were happy to know that the daughter of their lord was to marry a powerful noble from the south. It was a source of celebration and there was no doubt that the duke would be very generous with them. He would probably share his personal stock of ale. Geirlaug joyfully greeted them as they did with her. She was happy to see them again. She loved her people and was proud of them.
After what semed hours, they finally entered the fortress. They dismounted and handed their horse to the stableboys of Rouen. Guillaume of Normannia was rearrangeing his outfit, helped by Sprota and Geirlaug came to find her betrothed.
- How do I look, she asked him.
- Perfect. As always, my lady, he purred to her ear.
- Not here. Not now, she nervously said. I don't want my parents to see us.
Guillaume chuckled. It was so unusual for her to be like that. Perhaps, now that she discovered her needs as a woman, she was more shy around her parents, he wondered.
- Alright, let's go! Father and mother are awaiting us in the great hall, Guillaume said sternly.
Sprota and the soon-to-be wed couple followed him.
The ceiling was high, but not as high as in Paris. The great hall really deserved the word "great". A table was located in the middle of the room, surrounded by chairs. Apparently, a council had been held not so long ago. The duke and his wife were sitting on two thrones at the bottom of the room, lit by the sunlight coming from the windows. He was wearing a long blue tunic finely embroidered, a cloak made of fur and was holding an axe in his hand. He seemed fearless and menacing. His wife, the princess of Frankia, was wearing a simple blue dress with narrow sleeves. She looked at her husband with a disapproving look. She seemed pissed by her husband's outfit. Guillaume of Poitier was impressed by the couple. All in them showed power.
- Is it him? Your father, the famous wolf, he asked her whispering.
- Yes.
- He is very impressive, he noted.
- I don't understand... he never wears the fur cloak usually. Not when it is summer. And what's with the axe? I thought he was done having it everywhere with him. Mother always scold him when he behaves like a viking. Oh no. Oh my God, she said putting her head in her hand.
- What?
- I think he is trying to be menacing to impress you.
- Well that worked, he said while smiling. I am terrified.
- Oh this is so embarrassing!
Geirlaug was red. She wished she could go hide in a hole and avoid people for a year. Her father was an embarassement where he was a pride before. Maybe the idea of losing his daughter to another man awoke some instincts in him. Fortunately, her mother was here to calm her husband down. Otherwise, he would have waved his axe and shout, to his children's embarrassement.
- Welcome count, Gisla said standing up. You are welcome here, in Rouen, as the future husband of our precious daughter.
- Not yet, Rollo cut her. Should I not give my consent to give my daughter away? Is it not how things are done in Frankia, he teased his wife.
Gisla smiled and sat back on her chair.
- Well, young man, why should I give you my daughter's hand?
- Father, Geirlaug protested.
- I want to hear what he has to say. I want to know if he is worthy of you.
Geirlaug slammed her forehead with her palm, making her mother frown. Why did all the men around her thought she was worth the world? It was so annoying. She was aware of her flaws, so why did everybody kept praising her perfection?
- I love her. That is as simple as this. I want to marry her because my love for your daughter knows no boundaries. Besides, isn't love not the main reason why you married her highness the noble princess Gisla?
Rollo grinned. Apparently, Guillaume's answer pleased him. But the boy was too smart for his own good. Even if Rollo found it interesting, he was still wary of him, and he was still afraid his daughter might suffer. He looked at him more menacing than ever. Guillaume was certain he was going to growl like a wolf. Yet, he bore his sight proudly. After all, his own ancestors were strong enough to repel the arabs in Poitiers, why wouldn't he be able to stand against one single northman?
On the other hand, Gisla smiled warmly to the young man. She liked his manners and his interest in her daughter. The truth was she regretted deeply sending her away to find a spouse for her. But the prospect of a love marriage filled her with joy and happiness for her daughter. She wanted her to know the same happiness she felt when she fell in love with her beloved husband.
- What does my daughter has to say about this? Geirlaug, answer me honestly. Do you want to marry this man?
- Yes, father, I do.
- Why?
- Because there is no one else I can be myself with. He makes me laugh like no other, he has my back and will always defend me and my reputation. He accepted my flaws and turned them into something lovable. He awoke the woman in me and made me realise that I could trust a man and be his equal. Father, he is very curious and kept asking me to talk about your culture, our culture, to him. He is bright. He rides well, knows how to shoot with a bow and arrows. He is caring, hardworking and gentle. He is perfect and more importantly: he saved my life and my soul.
- I see... Well, I suppose I should accept.
- Oh father! Thank you, Geirlaug exclaimed.
She turned to Guillaume, expecting him to be overwhelmed by joy and thank her father, but he did none of that. Instead, he was quiet and his expression was blank. After a few seconds, he finally came back to life and suddenly cried while laughing hysterically. He said something in his tongue and turned to Geirlaug a delirious expression on his face. Then, he wiped his tears and turned to the ducal couple.
- Thank you, your grace! I will forever be grateful to you for letting me marry your amazing daughter. I am so... I am so... I can't find the words.
- We accept your gratitude, Gisla said.
- Now tell me, count Guillaume of Poitiers, how exactly did you save my daughter's live, Rollo said calm but with a shaking voice.
Guillaume looked at Geirlaug, and asked her if she was okay with him talking about that with his eyes. Geirlaug nodded with a comforting smile. She put her hand on his shoulder and then lowered it to grab his hand. She moved closer to him to feel his warmth better.
- I prefer to warn you: this will be hard for a parent to hear.
- I can take this, Rollo said. And I think my wife can too.
- Fine. Perhaps you heard that my former friend, count Robert of Rambouillet attempted to rape lady Geirlaug. Fortunately, your son was there to stop him. It was painful for both of us. This day was the day I first asked for her hand in marriage. After this, she just wouldn't talk to me anymore. Which I found understandable. Your children asked justice to the king and he granted your son a trial by combat. Obviously, he prevailed. But your daughter's ordeal just begun. I suppose, your grace, he said to Gisla, that you know how implacable the court is. Well, rumors started to spread among the nobles that Geirlaug had sex with everyone of them, that she was a woman of little virtue. She was already exhausted by the attempted rape upon her, so the rumors only added to her tiredness. One night, I found her in the Seine, a knife in her hand, trying to cut her veins. I took her on my horse and healed her wounds.
- Physical and mental, she added.
Rollo stood up and dropped his axe. He took his daughter in his arms and hugged her tight. At first, Geirlaug felt like she was going to choke, but soon, she realized how desperate her father seemed to be. He was shaking. Geirlaug suspected he was crying. Everything in him smelled distress. Her mother came to hug her too and comfort her husband.
- I knew it... I knew I shouldn't have let you leave for Paris. I shouldn't have... Why did I not see this? I am... I am such a bad father... I am so sorry.
- Rollo, this is not your fault, you hear me? This is not your fault, Gisla said calmly.
- This is true father. This is the son of a bitch's fault. But he paid it with his life. My big brother made sure of that. Besides, count Guillaume was here for me. And I had the support of Sprota and Hugues, duke of the Franks. If anything, this experience had proven to me that I am stronger than I imagined.
Rollo stepped back to admire his daughter. She grew so much in such a short time. She was not his little princess anymore, she was a woman. Worthy of the greatest shieldmaiden. He was proud of her.
- Guillaume, he warmly said to his son, I heard news from Sprota's father that you two decided to marry, is it true?
- Yes. We decided to marry according to your tradition. I know mother may not approve of this but...
- I approve, Gisla said. I will always approve of you, my son. And I am glad you chose Sprota. She is a force to be reckoned with. But I have yet to teach her how to behave like the wife of a duke.
Sprota bowed to the duchess for her kind words. Gisla complimenting her and making her worthy of her rank meant a lot to her.
- I too, am proud of you son. You will be a fine husband, and, I hope so, a good father. Perhaps better than me and you also helped your sister and chose a worthy suitor to her.
- I didn't do anything, he said blushing. She did all the work by herself.
The two siblings smiled to each other. Geirlaug grabbed her future spouse's hand and smiled warmly to him. She was filled with joy to be surrounded by her loved-ones. Finally she was at peace.
- Now, tell me count, how is your father? I've heard he is very sick since his battle against us Normans, Gisla asked the young man.
- He is sick indeed, and I am afraid he might pass away soon. Which is a pity considering how strong he was in his youth.
- Ah, yes. I heard of the story of the bastard who fought for his title. Ebles Manzer! The man who conquered what was rightfully his with an army of southerners! He was a great man, even if he didn't choose his last battles very well. How is your mother? I've heard that she became an amazing woman.
- She is. But perhaps not as amazing as yourself your grace. In my father's sickness, she takes every big decisions and rules when he cannot.
- I like your mother. She gave me a great impression when I met her a long time ago.
- With my father passing away soon, my mother deeply desires that I marry as soon as possible and that an heir to the county be concieved in the shortest delays. So I am glad I met the woman I want to spend my life with.
- I will pray for your father's soul, Gisla said.
- Thank you your grace. And I shall give your greetings to my mother.
Gisla nodded gently.
- Speaking of greetings, mother, your brother sends his regards, Guillaume added.
- It seems like the Guillaumes carry the burden of an overfamous father, Geirlaug noted to her beloved count.
- It is up the men carrying that name to honor their father and outdo them, he replied. Which, in your brother's case, is not easy, he whispered.
Nor in my case, he bitterly thought. But he kept it for himself. A celebration such as an engagement was not to be tarnished by negative thoughts.
- Well, now that civilities are over, perhaps you are hungry or thirsty for some ale, or cider, Rollo suddenly said. I have to confess that I am beginning to starve.
Once the diner was over and everyone went to their bedchambers, Rollo took his daughter with him to the outside of the castle. He sat on a bench in front of the stables and looked at the starry sky in the fresh air of a summer night. Geirlaug was used to his sudden moments of melancholy. She did not speak. She waited for him to talk first.
- Are this kind of braids new, he asked. I think I never saw you wear that kind of style.
- What kind of style?
- Not well made, he chuckled.
Geirlaug blushed and stroke her two braids tenderly. She deeply wanted to share her joy with everybody, but she was afraid of this escaping from her as soon as she would do so.
- Count Guillaume made them. He improves everyday. And he keeps saying that my hair is beautiful.
- Hair are women's pride. I can't believe you grew so much. It seems to me that it was only yesterday that you fought with your brother over petty things, and I braided your hair in the morning.
- I know.
- Are you happy with the count?
- Yes. He makes me want to sing and laugh everyday. Did you know that he also knows poetry? He sings a lot and he writes poems too. They have a language in Aquitaine called the tongue of Oc and it is beautiful! I also taught him some Norse words but he has trouble pronouncing them. He is so... he is so...
- Alright, alright. I understand, Rollo laughed.
He went silent again. Nothing could be heard except the hooting of an owl and the howl of a distant pack of wolves.
- I am glad you will get a happy marriage. I am relieved. I am also happy that you will know the same chance as I did. I loved your mother at first sight. And I still love her. Now I know that there is no one more suited for you than him.
- Thank you father, Geirlaug whispered almost crying.
- Now, I only want to know if he will treat you as an equal.
- Who said he doesn't do it already, Geirlaug said mischieviously.
Rollo grinned. He was satisfied with his daughter answer, for he really cared for her to be well treated as a woman.
- By the way, what did you do to the berseker sent to kill you, she asked curious.
- I killed him. This idiot tried to sneak in, but I was waiting for him with my axe. Each man must die someday and this was his day. Now I suspect he is in Valhalla drinking mead with the gods and some of my old friends.
- Fine. That is one thing I won't worry about, she sternly said. I am glad you protected yourself and mother. I took care of the counts by the way. They won't bother us if they care for their fiefdoms and families. Your great-niece and her friend were a great help. I am glad Sprota reached them in time.
Rollo grinned. He was proud of his daughter. No father could be prouder. Geirlaug hesitated for a moment to ask a question that streamed into her mind since she attempted to kill herself. Finally she asked her father:
- Do you regret not being able to go to Valhalla now that you are Frankish?
- Who said I was Frankish, he asked pissed. I am not Frankish daughter! I am Norman. I may never reach Valhalla but if it means spending eternity with your mother, then so be it! Of course, I am sad I will never be able to fight Torstein, Arne, Floki or Leif again. Especially since I owe Arne a repayment for what I did to him.
Geirlaug stayed silent. She knew how much her father had suffered in the past and how horrible his past actions were. But he proved he was worthy of the best and for that, she was proud of being his daughter.
- I should go to sleep now. Tomorrow I will ride with Guillaume. I want to show him the sea.
- I will stay a little longer. I am happy we talked.
- Me too father.
Rollo kissed her forehead and she left him alone to his, now, usual melancholy.
When Rollo entered his room in silence, wrapped in his cloak, Gisla was about to go to bed. She was wearing her white nightgown: the one that made him want to make love to her. But time had its effect and the duke's old age did not permitted as much sexual activities as before. He swiftly removed his clothes and put a linen pant on. Gisla, even after all these years he had been her husband, was still fascinated by his tattoos. His muscles were old yet, seemed buffer. The duke was in a fine shape and so was his wife. She might be in her late forty, but she was still as beautiful as the day he met her. Her hair grew back since the day she cut it and her cheeks were sunken with the time. She had tiny wrinkles on the corner of her eyes, meaning that she must have laughed a lot. Her face had something more refined and sophisticated. She was not a princess anymore, she was a queen. Old age suited her well.
Rollo slipped into the bedshifts and kissed his wife tenderly. He stroke her beautiful hair and she drew patterns on his chest with her fingers following the fading lines of Hati and Skoll.
- Do you think she will be happy, Gisla softly asked.
- Yes. I think so.
- This Guillaume is a fine man. He is perfect for her.
- Yes. I told her so.
- I am afraid of losing my little girl. Children grow up so fast. I barely taught her how to run a house.
- Shhh... Don't cry my love. She will be fine. Fledgling have to fly out of the nest sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.
- I know. I am just sad I will not be able to protect her anymore.
- She is old enough to protect herself don't you think? Besides, I think my lessons and yours bore their fruits.
- I am still mad at you for letting her play with knives, she noted.
- Well, I thought she had to do honor to her mother, he teased his wife.
- Very funny, she sarcastically said. Well, at least she did not run away with a heathen. At least she will marry a noble.
- Was that meant to insult me?
Rollo asked it his face in front of hers. His lips were so close to hers she could feel his breath and the warmth of his skin. She grinned.
- You know very well that it was.
- But I am duke. I have been given great lands...
- Stop it or I'll go sleep in the kitchen!
- What. Are you going to tell me that things are done differently in Frankia?
- I... I...
- I love you.
- You have an answer for everything, she scolded him gently.
- I know, he said kissing her again.
Both fell asleep in their tender embrace and dreamt of simpler times when their children were still children and when they were still a young couple.
At last! Guillaume finally met Geirlaug's parents! I have to say it was really funny to write Rollo as an embarassing father. I feel like he could do what he did in the show. After all, he is the biggest drama queen ever (well, the whole Lothbrok family are drama queens so...). I hope you hope the slight Rolisla moments (I couldn't just not write them a tiny scene. I am Rolisla trash after all).
I hope that you enjoyed this chapter ^^ Leave a review if you feel like it ;)