76.
76.
Inga was beautiful.
I did not mean beautiful as in some particular measure, some degree of it. She was simply beautiful.
What modifier could I possibly attach to that? It would only be empty rhetoric, a thing that diminished her beauty by a step.
That woman was too good for me.
I had thought I would live my whole life without saying anything so lacking in self-awareness, yet here I was, in my second life and with a mental fortitude buff besides, and my legs nearly buckled at the sight of that dazzling loveliness.
[Clapclapclap—!]
"$!$@!*&"
"!$!)^!&^*-!!"
Through the applause, Hrólfr the officiant was saying something, and I understood that the guests all around were laughing and shouting together, but none of the words entered my head.
I simply stared blankly at her face and laughed along, laughed at the deepening red of her face and ears, and laughed even louder as she shot me some unknowable look.
Then, roused by Halfdan and Sigurd prodding my sides, I heard Hrólfr's voice.
"Konungr Helgi, Konungr...! Do you swear?"
"...I swear. I will love and cherish this person before my eyes, all my life."
"Then lower the ring from the sword's point and place it upon each other's hand. It shall be the proof of your oath."
Was it the difference between one who reveled in the festivities and one who had overseen and orchestrated the entire affair? Seeing Hrólfr's face, where fatigue showed more plainly than joy or happiness, my senses slowly returned.
From the point of a short sword—I did not even know when it had been placed in my hand—I lowered the ring and carefully, very carefully, slid it onto her white hand.
It was the ruby ring I had used for my proposal.
Then Inga, her face flushed a brilliant red, likewise lowered from the sword in her hand a ring with its own striking red gemstone and set it upon my finger.
Perhaps she was terribly tense; I gently took her trembling hand and lowered it.
The sight of her, with that scarlet face lifted to look at me, brown eyes that seemed to gleam beneath jet-black brows, stirred some unknowable impulse deep within me.
Following her bright smile with my own, I saw that to either side of us, Sigurd and Æthelthryth, Halfdan and Botilda, who had undergone the same rite, were facing one another and smiling as well.
Approaching us came Mother Asta, Björn, Sigurd, and Ubba.
Mother Asta murmured low in the dialect that only the priests understood, invoking the blessings of Goddess Hel and the other gods. The remaining three brothers lifted the prepared cloths and began to bind together the ring-bearing hands of the brides and grooms.
On the faces of Björn and Ivar alike, there flickered mirth, mischief, and some unreadable... sympathy. Yet none of them could open their mouths.
In this moment of sacred oath, only the High Priestess Asta could speak.
Through my mother's voice, the holy blessing of the goddess descended upon our three couples. When my brothers, who had slowly wound the binding cloth nine times around our hands and pressed it firmly, returned to their places, my mother's blessing at last came to its close.
"I shall always remember this cloth that binds your two hands. It has been bound in the name of Goddess Hel and the gods, and all here present shall bear witness to it. If any in this place now oppose this oath, made under the blessing of the gods, let them raise their voice."
[Thud—]
How did such a voice come from that slender frame? My mother's voice, which felt fundamentally different from that of any ordinary person, resounded with gravity, and when she struck the ground with the wooden staff she held, a solemn silence fell over the hall.
No—not solemn. The expressions looked more like those of people bracing for an imminent eruption.
"...Thus, under the eyes of gods and men, I proclaim these three couples man and wife. May Hel watch over you."
"Watch over them...!"
"Hail, Hel!"
Amidst the crowd bowing their heads in unison, the three couples still beamed. My mother, looking at us, spoke in soft reproof.
"What are you all doing? Hurry now—the kiss."
The first to move at those words was Botilda. She seized Halfdan like a thunderbolt, and her figure was like that of an eagle; astonishingly, unlike Halfdan who had closed his eyes and surrendered to the moment, she kept both eyes wide open, like a bird of prey about to cook its catch.
Next was Inga, and Æthelthryth.
'Hup—'
I did not know where the courage came from in someone whose face had been blazing red and trembling so—but as Inga pulled my neck down hard and her lips, and something beyond them, met mine, I too soon closed my eyes.
"Heave-ho! Heh-hey! Yi-yah!"
"O Freyr! O Hel! Grant them no sleep this night!"
"Hahaha! Long live the Konungr! Long live Árós! Long live the sons of Ragnar!"
"What are the bards doing!? Sing, sing at once! Sing the song of the warrior who sired a hundred sons, I say!"
"There is no such warrior!"
"HAH-HAHAHA!"
Soon, thunderous cheers and shouts filled all the expanse of Árós.
*****
Afterward, a time of shedding all convoluted things, of laughing and reveling, stretched on.
For Norsemen, whose daily occupations consisted of little beyond farming, sailing, fishing, drinking and fighting, swimming races, and watching cockfights, someone's wedding was, in itself, a grand opportunity for a proper bout of merrymaking.
This held just as true for those of high station. The handsome grooms and lovely brides made the rounds, offering thanks and sharing drink, while the bards sang tirelessly, pouring out their voices.
Amid a world filled wholly with laughter, the clink of goblets, and the fragrant scent of roasting meat, what had begun in the late afternoon finally saw the sun slip away, and the hour came for the grooms and brides to withdraw.
Even as the mischievous guests sang at the top of their lungs, united in heart, some song about "Beware the bear— oh maiden! Beware the bear— oh traveler!" and shouted barbed jests dressed as well-wishes from every side, the newlyweds, their attention and interest already wholly stolen by one another, hurried toward the buildings assigned them under the guidance of Hrólfr, the orchestrator of this great event.
Inga and I, our Konungr couple, also headed not for the old longhouse or the new house on the eastern hill, but for a small, cozy house specially built in preparation for this wedding.
On that path, the little girls serving as Inga's attendants followed along, and beside me, Refil, Hrólfr, Stórolf, and Erik fell in.
Walking the road where the surrounding trees and waysides were adorned with beautiful cloths and flowers, I saw a very lovely wooden house, perched before a sweeping view of the sea before Árós.
Though my body could not become intoxicated no matter how much I drank, gazing upon the dreamlike atmosphere of the sea and the house, and the spectacle of people cheering all around, seemed to make my body languid all the same.
In truth, more than that, the greatest cause was the presence of Inga, who had clung to my side all day long.
Soon, I shooed away the people and retainers who had followed me to the front of my house and kept nagging me to beware of that damned bear, and even sent off the girls who were giggling about whatever it was that little ones knew. Then, taking Inga's hand, I sat together with her on the long chair that the thoughtful Leon had prepared, and gazed out at the sea as it dyed itself a dark violet.
Perhaps because she was greatly fatigued, Inga's face as she leaned her head against my shoulder and softly closed her eyes looked exceedingly peaceful and happy.
'Will I be able to maintain this peace for her?'
As I gazed down at her face and felt the sea breeze, my father came to mind, and my status as Konungr came to mind.
The countless problems I had forgotten during the joyful day crept out one by one and knocked upon my cerebrum and hippocampus.
Problems named reality, which clung obsessively as if asking, 'You haven't forgotten us, have you?'
"Hmm—"
As I let out a soft breath and buried my head against the crown of Inga's head, she, who had been leaning against me, raised her head and looked at me.
And then, the moment our eyes met, the countless worries circling my mind vanished all at once, as if by magic.
"...Shall we go inside?"
"...Shall we?"
Thus, our couple, clumsy yet one that did everything it needed to, clasped each other's hands and entered the house, which had been lavishly decorated with flowers whose names I did not know.
A house built one size larger in everything from the size of the door to the furniture, with our bodies in mind. It was a part that showcased the consideration of Leon, the house's designer, but...
The moment we had already crossed the threshold and stepped into the dim room, such things were no longer a consideration for the two of us.
We were fiercely drawn into each other, and soon moved as one.
While the sounds of the festival, still laughing and reveling, could be heard faintly in the distance, the night only continued to deepen.
*****
We left our traces upon the pure white canvas. Countlessly. As if this moment would never end.
Crimson handprints were left behind, and where fingers and nails grazed and passed, long lines remained.
It was a time of exploring every nook and cranny of my entire body, to the point where I thought, 'Did my body ever have such sensitive places?' Because I was with Inga, my mind reached beyond the realm of thought and instinct, touching the domain of something that lay beyond.
Hair like platinum and brown eyes full of desire. A scent like honey arose from endlessly craving red lips, and our body heat, ceaselessly moving back and forth using each other's bodies as conductors, grew ever hotter.
At times passionate like a flame, at times infinitely slow.
Inside the room, which held only a single tiny light, a hot, sultry wind blew throughout the night, and we two, who had moved as though for an eternity, soon fell asleep together, not even knowing when we lost consciousness.
And so, the next day.
I, who had never lost my senses so completely even once since opening my eyes in this body, had no choice but to smile at the unfamiliar sensation of having 'slept soundly.'
'Inga, you are a dangerous person.'
Beside this woman, I was no different from being stripped bare.
With such a sentiment, I looked into the woolen cloth that covered the two of us, who had returned to our primordial state. There, the face of the woman with her pure white platinum hair let loose was leaning against my chest, breathing out soft, gentle breaths.
'Did I really get married?'
Though the memory of that magical night was vivid, my first thought was something as trivial as this.
But I could not believe it, for if this was reality, it was far too fantastical. Though there was no particular fatigue or muscle ache thanks to the strength of my innate body, my brain, which could be called my software, seemed to have already gone haywire.
After gazing at Inga's face for a long while like that, as I raised my hand and tidied her hair, Inga, as if she had been waiting, flashed her eyes open!
"Surprised?"
Her brown eyes held half mischief, half shyness.
We already knew everything(?) about each other, so what was there to be shy about?
Of course, my own heart, having such a thought, beat a little faster too.
She must have intended to startle me in her own mind, but who was I? I was a warrior among warriors who had charged into the enemy ranks, Helgi Ragnarsson himself.
Naturally, I was not startled at all, but I belatedly pretended to be surprised, and Inga laughed, 'Kkarureuk—', and burrowed into my arms.
"What was that..."
"Nothing, I really was surprised."
"Euhmm— Good. Really good."
What exactly was good?
Thanks to this lifeform that was pressing her face tightly against me and repeating her inhalations and exhalations, my hormones rose up violently from the early morning.
[Yield control of the body! You wicked reason!]
My body responded greatly to the rebellion of my hormones.
"...Again?"
This time, half surprise, half shyness.
I thought that Inga, her face flushed red once again as she looked up at me, resembled a cat.
'Now that I think of it, she liked animals. Shall I make her some friends for the reindeer?'
Counting just the years, it had been nineteen. For the first time in my twenty-year Norseman life, having resolved to keep a pet, I gently embraced her body and turned her around.
The guests could probably wait.
After all, alcohol, food, and space overflowed in Árós.
Right now, I needed a little more time.
*****
'I have endured enough. Now that the time has finally come... the waiting is over...!'
At the same time, in the northern marshlands of East Anglia.
Edmund, having received the reply sent by Burgred, Cyning of Mercia, clutched the letter with all his might.
Though it was expensive paper, did such a thing matter now?
The stolen land, the stolen kingdom. My kingdom. My people. My god.
He must reclaim it all.
'Even if the end is death, I shall go forth for You, O Lord... give me strength!'
East Anglia was the Lord's, and the kingdom of His servant, himself.
At last, Edmund began to move. Along with Burgred of Mercia, who lurked beyond.