Chapter Nineteen: I Give You Two Choices
Under the gentle touch of dawn’s first light, the entrance to the lord’s hall seemed veiled in a delicate golden curtain, radiating solemnity and grandeur.
Outside the hall, a crowd of curious villagers pressed close, their eyes gleaming with longing and anticipation for the unknown.
Behind Oni stood several members of her warrior band; the rest were busy in the livestock pens, slaughtering pigs and sheep. She believed that gathering everyone meant she naturally had to provide food.
After all, it was also an opportunity to earn goodwill! Even though provisions were scarce, some things must not be skimped on.
She listened attentively to the surrounding clamour, sensing the excitement and eagerness woven into the voices.
She directed her men to slowly carry the heavy chair out through the doors. Sunlight pierced the clouds and bathed the chair in a sacred glow, as if sanctifying it.
Oni gently seated herself beside Harold, her eyes sparkling with hopeful expectancy.
Yet time passed, and Harold remained unconscious. His body lay still in the chair, neither moving nor showing the peacefulness of death, filling Oni’s heart with a subtle melancholy.
The High Priest, clad in the traditional black robe for men and white for women, trimmed with strips of cloth, approached slowly. His head was adorned with a deer antlered veil, his face shrouded in mystery.
In his hands rested the “Oath Ring,” taken from the late Robert Yarl.
This ring, meticulously crafted from pure gold with an intricate design, symbolized the unshakable loyalty and commitment between lord and vassal.
In Viking society, such an oath ring was more than a precious ornament; it was the bond that upheld authority and obedience.
It bore witness to countless Yarl’s glories and legacies, embodying the ruler’s power and wisdom.
To wear this ring was to become a Yarl. Any betrayal against the ring’s sworn allegiance would bring endless shame and disgrace.
The High Priest solemnly slipped the ring onto Harold’s ring finger, as if entrusting the fate and future of the entire family to him.
Oni clasped the hand of the unconscious Harold tightly, her gaze unwavering, silently pledging her support and loyalty.
This moment marked the end of Robert Yarl’s reign and the dawn of a new era.
“Begin!” Oni’s firm voice echoed through the lord’s hall, signaling the commencement of the solemn oath-taking ceremony.
Her eyes swept like an eagle’s over every warrior present, settling finally on the group prepared to swear allegiance—the Guild.
A burly Viking captain, his face resolute, stepped forward with measured steps.
He knelt on one knee before Oni and the unconscious Harold, bowing his head in absolute submission to his lord.
His voice was deep and powerful, tinged with emotion, full of resolve and loyalty:
“I, Ludwig, hereby swear fealty to my lord Harold Avarsson Yarl. In life and death, I shall protect you and your family. Upon this ring, I swear to the gods that should I break this oath, may my weapons fail, and may my life be filled with pain and regret.”
Oni’s voice was steady and compelling, conveying her hope and promise for his future:
“I hold great faith in you, Ludwig. On behalf of the Yarl family, I accept your vow of loyalty. In recognition of your fidelity, I grant you the fief of Fjordheim Village and formally anoint you as Yarl. So long as you keep your oath, in life or death, I shall shelter you and your family!”
At that moment, Oni clasped Harold’s ringed hand and extended it toward Ludwig.
Joy radiated from Ludwig’s face as he stepped forward without hesitation, pressing a fervent kiss onto the ring that symbolized loyalty and oath.
That kiss was not only an allegiance to the lord but a pledge to the family’s future and a continuation of Norse tradition and honor.
The crowd’s murmurs swelled like a tide within the lord’s hall, their excitement and hope surging.
Though rumors had whispered of new Yarl bestowing noble titles, most dismissed them as mere gossip, never imagining these events would come to pass.
Their hearts brimmed with exhilaration and aspiration, as if a path to ascend had opened before them.
They began to dream that perhaps one day, they too might become Yarl, sitting in Oni’s place, receiving the allegiance of others.
The original ceremony required the bestowal of new arm rings as a mark of honor, but Ludwig already possessed one, a gift from Harold’s father, symbolizing his readiness to serve the Harold family.
Thus, that part was omitted, and the ceremony continued.
One by one, five other Viking captains—Frederick, Sven, Joachim, Higlrun, and Magrus—stepped forward to swear fealty to Harold and accept their granted lands.
They were each anointed as Yarl of Fjordheim Village, Bergstadir Village, Skogsfell Village, Nordvegen Village, Vikingspris Village, and Hovsfell respectively.
Oni stood aside with a far-reaching gaze, holding only one town—Skalvik Town—in her hand.
She had been waiting for the former Yarl’s wife to appear, but as moments ticked by, no sign of her came.
Had she not come?
A flicker of disappointment arose in Oni’s heart.
The oath ceremony stretched into the afternoon, sunlight streaming through the windows, illuminating every corner of the lord’s hall.
Just as Oni, seated by the hall’s entrance, resigned herself to the absence, a sudden commotion stirred within the crowd.
The disturbance shattered the ceremony’s solemnity, drawing every eye toward the center of the throng.
“Wait!” an elderly maid’s voice rang out sharply, breaking the silence and introducing an unexpected upheaval.
She appeared, accompanied by Rebecca and a twelve-year-old boy named Andre, weaving through the parted crowd into full view.
Guarded by several of the Yarl’s men-at-arms, their faces grave, the atmosphere grew tense.
The High Priest reacted swiftly and decisively, pointing at the maid while commanding the warriors, “Seize her! She has murdered the Yarl!”
The new lord quickly ordered his men, who immediately moved to subdue the maid and her companions, forcing them to the ground.
“What are you doing? Let me go!” Rebecca screamed, dust and gravel stinging her face as she struggled in unprecedented disgrace.
At that moment, Oni rose, her voice laced with restrained fury: “Enough! Release them!”
Her command stunned everyone present, including the High Priest.
He turned to Oni, his eyes filled with confusion and inquiry.
“Lady Yarl?” he asked incredulously.
Clearly, he could not understand why Oni would suddenly halt the arrest of the former Yarl’s wife. Was she not their common enemy?
Oni’s reply was firm and resolute: “She is, after all, the former Yarl’s wife and must not be dishonored.”
She knew well that humiliating the former Yarl’s wife would diminish the sanctity of her own status and undermine the family’s prestige.
Such a disgrace was utterly unacceptable—it would only invite mockery.
Hearing Oni’s words, the warriors reluctantly loosened their grip, allowing the maid and her companions to stand.
The maid helped Rebecca up and then drew the bowed head of Andre forward, presenting him to the crowd.
Pointing at Andre, she declared loudly, “Harold has no right to be Yarl, for Robert Yarl left a blood heir! Andre was born when the Yarl was thirteen—conceived with the maid who cared for him. When the old Yarl discovered this, he banished her, and she gave birth to Andre in Fjordheim Village!”
This stunning revelation immediately stirred astonishment and murmurs throughout the assembly.
The crowd pointed and whispered about the boy named Andre, their voices rife with speculation.
Amid this sudden upheaval, Oni displayed extraordinary composure.
“Is there any proof?” she asked the maid with a faint, sardonic smile, her eyes shimmering with disdain. She settled back into her chair, wrapping herself tightly in her cloak before turning to the vested parties. “People, tell me—do you believe her? Do you trust the words of one who poisoned Robert Yarl?”
She remained unmoved by the maid’s accusation, deftly manipulating the crowd’s sentiment and opinion.
As she had anticipated, the people shouted with fury:
“We don’t believe her! Kill this liar!”
“She is a murderer; we will not allow this!”
“They poisoned the Yarl!”
Oni beckoned the boy Andre forward with a wave.
The maid grasped him tightly, but the warriors swiftly intervened, separating them and forcing Andre to kneel before Oni, his head bowed.
Oni said nothing at first, letting the boy fix his fearful gaze on her boots for what seemed like an eternity.
The boy’s expression grew ever more terrified, precisely the effect Oni sought.
“If you testify, I may spare your life. But if you persist, it means you intend to oppose the new Yarl!” Oni finally spoke, her voice as cold as winter’s breath, making the boy tremble.
“Lady, I will testify!” the boy cried, turning on his knees to point at Rebecca, his voice shaking. “It was them—they forced me!”
The crowd erupted in rage, snatching up stones to hurl at the former Yarl’s wife and the maid, feeling deceived and shouting, “Lies! Kill them!”
Oni raised her hand to quell the angry mob, as the warriors stepped forward to restrain them.
“Rebecca, you conspired to murder me and Harold, and poisoned Robert Yarl. By law, you shall be beheaded, your soul delivered to Hel, daughter of the evil god. Yet, for the sake of your time as Yarl’s wife, I grant you two choices.”
Oni fixed her cold gaze on Rebecca and said, “You may choose to be cremated alongside Robert Yarl, journeying to Valhalla, where he will decide whether to forgive your sins!”
“Or…”