Chapter Nine
The next morning I woke up to find that Asvald was gone. Sighing, I dressed and ate a small breakfast, worrying if I would ever be happy again. Yesterday was the first time I had smiled in a whole year.
I waited the entire day for him to return home, but even after the sun went down and the moon rose high in the sky, he still did not come.
I sat in the doorway, my chin resting on my knees, my eyes on the full moon. Tears streamed down my face. "I want to go home. I do not belong here." The night was eerily silent; the only noise was the waving breaking against the cliff.
When I could keep my eyes open no longer, I laid down by the fire, hoping that Asvald would return soon.
Thankfully the next morning I awoke to find Asvald across the fire from me, looking extremely troubled.
"Are you well?" I asked, my voice scratchy from sleep.
He brought his gaze to mine, his lips pressed in a tight line. "I have been accused of murdering Jabez. Now I must Jernbyrd."
Groa overheard this and gasped, coming to stand beside Asvald, her hand resting on his shoulder.
I glanced at Groa to try to read her face as she stared at her son, and was dismayed to see it was crumpled in acute worry. "What does Jernbyrd mean?"
"The carrying of hot iron. If I can carry a red hot iron in my hands for nine paces without dropping it, I will be innocent. But if my wounds become infected, I will be guilty," he said in a steady, calm voice. Despite his effort to seem brave, I saw the fear in his eyes.
"And you must do this?" I asked, moving around the fire to sit beside him, taking his hand in mine.
"Yes," he said and dropped his head into his hands. "I have no choice."
"Asvald, are you guilty?" I asked softly, touching his soft blond hair. Please, don't be guilty. After the beatings I received at Jabez's hands, it would not surprise me if Asvald decided to take revenge on the man. Groa bit her lip as she waited for him to answer, her knuckles turning white as she griped his shoulder tightly.
"I am innocent. I have shed no blood," he murmured, his whole body shaking. It was the first time I had seen him so visibly upset.
"I believe you." I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed. "You are strong and courageous. You can do this."
He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. A sheen of sweat glowed on his forehead. "Tonight. I have to do it tonight."
I nodded and stroked his hair soothingly like a mother would to her child. "I will be there to treat your wounds when you are finished. My love will ease your pain."
He removed his hands and looked at me with surprise. "Your love?"
Groa's eyes met mine for a moment, a smile gracing her lips before she turned away, letting us have our moment.
I nodded and returned my focus to Asvald, and as I gazed upon his amazed face, I felt my throat tightened and I could only murmur, "Aye."
But the spell didn't last long and the intense fear returned to Asvald's expression. "I can't drop it, Eachna. What if I drop it?" The panic in his voice caused my own heart to beat faster.
I had to control my own fear for his sake. "You won't. I will stand there and you will keep your eyes on me, and take nine paces until you reach me. Then you will drop that iron and I will kiss you until your pains leave," I soothed, and kissed his cheek.
He nodded and straightened his back and shoulders. "I will do this."
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When the sun began to set, Asvald took my hand and together we walked into the center of the village, where the iron was already heating in a boiling pot of water over a blazing fire. Asvald halted, his eyes on the pot, his grip tight on my hand.
"Asvald, remember yourself," I whispered and tugged him forward, wanting to get this over with. His father stood by the fire, along with the man who was also accused, and the man who had done the accusing. Asvald joined them and I stood off to the side, watching as Bork spoke in Norse.
After a few minutes, the other accused man stepped up to the pot and forced his hands into the boiling water, letting out a cry of pain. He jerked out of the water, holding the steaming rod of iron. He turned and started his nine paces, his face red with pain. Veins bulged in his neck and forehead. He reached the end and dropped the rod, holding his seared hands in front of his face. His woman stepped forward and bound his hands in clean rags and led him away. My gaze found Asvald again, and he looked pale and scared.
Lord, please be with him. Protect him from the pain and give him the strength not to drop that iron. Please be with him, I prayed.
Asvald stepped forward and hesitated only a short moment before thrusting his hands into the boiling water. I walked slowly to the end of his nine paces, my legs shaking. I heard his roar of agony and it tore at my heart.
He turned in my direction, the hot iron in his hands. Sweat beads formed on his forehead and he stumbled forward, his body shaking from the pain. I knew he was fighting every urge to drop the rod. His eyes met mine and I nodded, offering a gentle smile of encouragement. My hand covered my mouth as held in my anxieties.
Finally he stood before me and threw the iron rod to the side, looking down at his hands to examine the damage. His skin was raw and blistered, most of the skin burned away, exposing the pale pink flesh beneath it. I choked back my disgust, because Asvald needed me.
"You did well, my husband," I said, my voice weak. I held his wrist and led him back to the longhouse. The entire walk back he grunted in pain, trying to hide it.
I settled him by the fire and heated some water, watching as he closed his eyes, his hands still trembling.
I soaked a few rags in the hot water before going to his side and taking his injured hands into my lap. I pressed the rag into his hand and he let out a groan, his body going tense.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I whispered, tears in my eyes as I cleaned his wounds, and put some ointment Groa gave to me on his hands. Once I wrapped them up, his pain seemed to ease a little.
"It wasn't that painful," Asvald said, his voice finally steady. I looked up at him with disbelief.
"Whatever you say, Asvald," I said before lifting his bandaged hand to my lips and placing a kiss on the binding.
Groa and the children returned to the longhouse then and she fussed over her son, offering in cool water to drink or some warm herbal tea to help with the pain.
Asvald declined for offers and winked at me. "I have a better idea of what could ease my pain."
Groa rolled her eyes and flapped her hand at him, turning away from us to chase after Ulf, who was getting into her balls of yarn.
There would be no arguing with Asvald's wishes after the horrible ordeal he just went through, so I moved into his lap and kissed him with passion, hoping to take his mind off his pain. Though some of his siblings lingered around us, it seemed I was getting used to physical affection in front of other people.
His hands stayed at his sides, but his mouth moved feverishly against mine. My hands tangled in his hair and I touched the tip of my tongue to his bottom lip. He groaned and pulled away.
"Oh, Eachna…"he breathed and resting his forehead against mine. "I don't deserve you."
I stayed silent, resting my hands on his chest. I felt his heartbeat beneath my palm and smiled. Lying down, he rested his head in my lap and closed his eyes. I stroked his hair and started singing an old Irish lullaby. He sighed and only moments later, he was snoring. Leaning down, I kissed his forehead before slowly moving out from under him. I covered him with a thick wool blanket. "I love you, Asvald."
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The next night after dinner Groa did her usual ritual of washing Bork's hair, a job Norsewomen often did for their husbands.
Asvald sat by the fire with his burned hands resting on his thighs, his eyes glazed over with either thoughts or pain. I bit down on my lip as I looked at his hair, dirty from sweat.
I poured some of the heated water into a pitcher. Next I placed a bowl in Asvald's lap.
He glanced over his shoulder me with shock, his lips parted. "What are you doing?"
"You know what I'm doing," I murmured and lifted his hair till it hung like a curtain over his face.
"Take off my shirt," he answered with the same low murmur. An intimate murmur that sent a chill down my spine. I obeyed, helping him out of his shirt without disturbing his hands.
Once he was settled and leaning over the bowl with his hair in his face, I poured the water over his head. His blond hair darkened to brown and I heard him sigh at the rush of warmth.
I took a bar of soap and lathered up his hair, running the suds through the strands, enjoying the long silkiness between my fingers. He had hair that any woman would kill to have. As I massaged his scalp and hearing his noises of pleasure, I felt my throat thicken with emotion and an overwhelming desire to have him hold me in his arms. Not for lovemaking, just for love.
"Rinse it now, love. My back is aching," he whispered to me and I snapped out of my trance, realizing that I had been washing his hair for at least ten minutes now. I quickly poured the rest of the water of his head and rung out his hair.
He straighten and stretched. "Thank you." He pulled me close, using his forearm instead of his hands. Lowering his head, he nuzzled my neck. "Let us go to bed." Though the words implied something naughty, his tone suggested that he was thinking the same thing as I. He wanted to hold me. And that is what we did. We held on.
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Seven days went by and Asvald's wounds had begun to heal. His father came to check his wounds, and Asvald was declared innocent.
As soon as the chieftain left our bedroom, Asvald took me in his arms and kissed me. My head spun, and I had to grip his biceps to keep from losing my balance.
"It was your care," he whispered against my lips. "You healed me."
I smiled and tugged him toward our bed, urging him to lie on his back. "I couldn't let them banish you."
He stared up at me, his eyes filled with affection for me. "That would have been an easy way of getting rid of me."
I straddled him and leaned down so my mouth was almost touching his. "And why would I want to be rid of you?"
"So you could go home," he whispered, his fingertips stroking my thighs. My eyes closed and I kissed him gently, needing him.
"I can't go home. I can't let you kill them," I murmured, yanking on his shirt. He stripped out of it and threw it across the room.
"Is that why you're seducing me?" He asked, his still wrapped-up hands moving over my back.
"No, that is not why," I groaned and lifted my dress over my head, revealing myself to him. I pressed down onto his lower stomach, so he could feel my wet center. His eyes closed and he moaned, his hands falling to his side.
My heart pounded as I lifted myself, ready to lower onto him. "Look at me," I murmured and his eyes opened again, meeting mine. Taking a deep breath, I moved down, bringing us together. We both groaned and his hands rested on my hips. Though it was still a bit painful, the feeling of our flesh coming together overruled it, sending waves of pleasure up my spine. Asvald mumbled in Norse as I stirred my hips, listening to him cry out words that sounded rough, yet exotic. I leaned down and kissed his neck and down his chest, my heart beating in time with his. Time to soar, time to be free. Time to let go. I had to let go of everything behind me to embrace everything that was in front of me.
"Minn fagr kone. My beautiful wife," Asvald murmured, his hands stroking my back.
"My handsome husband," I whispered back and nibbled on his earlobe. My hands moved over his chest, his skin smooth yet tough. My head felt light as I rocked above him, my vision blurred from the intense pleasure.
His body tensed and I straightened, my head falling back as he finished inside me. His deep growl of release sent me over the edge, and soon I too, was spent. Collapsing onto his chest, we panted and tried to catch our breath, both of our bodies trembling with aftershock.
Rolling off him, I stared up at the ceiling and waited for him to recover. "Jeg elsker deg," I said slowly, trying to get it right.
He turned his head and looked at me. "What did you say?"
I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at him with a smile. "Jeg elsker deg. I love you."
His blue eyes shined, and when I laid my hand on his chest, I could feel his heart beating against my palm.
"Jeg elsker deg, min kone," he whispered gently, the sweetest words I'd ever heard him speak.