For Milady

TWENTY EIGHT: The Wedding of Astrid Hofferson

TWENTY EIGHT: The Wedding of Astrid Hofferon

The day of the wedding dawned and Astrid watched the sun rise through the gaps in the shutters, knowing that Stormfly had escaped-because Anja, who attended a couple of hours after Torgeir had visited, had told her. And among her materials for checking over the expectant mother was one of Stormfly's spines. Astrid had been deemed healthy though a little underweight and Anja had insisted she was allowed a warm bath and a good meal-which the warrior had eaten. And then, clean and warm and wrapped in fresh warm clothes, she had grasped the spine and began to slowly rub it down against the roughened granite of the walls. She knew in her mind what she wanted to do with the spine and she prayed she had enough time to complete her plan before the wedding.

She was fed midmorning with a kind of weak meat broth and black rye bread, just before a large warm bath was brought in with scented oils and towels and she glared at the men carrying the steaming iron pitchers of hot water. Frida walked in confidently, a cream dress folded in her arms.

"I'm not getting in that dress," Astrid told her flatly, her eyes narrowed and hands resting protectively over her child. The raven-haired woman quirked a smile and turned to the guards.

"Give us some privacy, hmm?" she suggested archly. "Look-I can succeed much better without you muttonheads here angering her. Wait outside!"

"Our orders were..." the first man started but Frida turns to glare at him.

"My orders were to get Astrid ready for the wedding and I cannot do that with you here," she told them sharply. "Guess what is more important at this stage, hmm?" The guards stared at her. "Close the door behind you on your way out!" she snapped and reluctantly, they left, the door slamming behind them. Frida sighed.

"I am not wearing a wedding dress," Astrid insisted, her tone flat and arms now folded aggressively across her chest.

"Yes, you are," Frida told her. "Because I need you in that room. Torgeir thinks he has all the cards-but there is one tradition that he hasn't counted on. Anyone can challenge the Chief for his place and he is bound by law to answer a challenge. And you are a fighter, Astrid. You have never given up...and we have let Stormfly escape to make sure she can't be held against you." Eyes widened in shock.

"You did that?" she murmured. "But...why?" The raven haired girl rested the dress down on the bed and carefully poured the first pitcher of steaming water into the bath.

"Because Torgeir is a disgrace," she said in a low voice. "He betrayed you. He betrayed me. He has betrayed the village and our laws and customs for his own desires...fed by the malignant spider, Knut. The same Knut who has decided he wants me to wed him now the Chief is going to be bound to you."

Astrid winced, feeling the child suddenly leap and the womb tighten hard around him. She breathed hard for a few seconds until the spasm eased and then looked up-to find the other woman at her side, a hand comfortingly on her arm.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice low and Astrid chewed her lip, nodding.

"They're coming more often now," she admitted. "Mostly they're just like a tension but a few are a little...sharp. I checked with Anja and apparently they are normal for the last couple of months of pregnancy. Apparently," she added with grim humour, "my womb likes to train as hard as I do!"

"Astrid-I have every belief that you can beat Torgeir, given a fair shot-and challenging him at the wedding, in front of the Council and the Village will mean he can't worm out of the fight or use his guards to subdue you!" Frida assured her. "But we have to get him to believe that you are defeated. And to do that...you have to look the part..."