least, we hope you will.”
I sighed and let them pull me along. By the time we’d emerged from the woodland meadow, their excitement gripped me and I happily trotted between them. We came to a clearing that held a small stone hut. My steps slowed, but Fenrir and Jarl guided me straight to it.
“Hello? Who’s there?” A man scurried out, wearing monk’s robes. His tonsured pate gleamed in the light.
“Father, we are here to say our vows,” Fenrir said in his deep voice. He took my arm and tugged me next to him. My mouth was hanging open. So was the friar’s. His wide eyes took in the huge warriors—their rough garb, their shining weapons.
“To be joined in holy matrimony?”
“Yes,” Jarl said, cocking an eyebrow at the tiny chapel. “I wish to be married in the tradition of your god.”
The friar opened and closed his mouth once or twice, gaping like a fish. “Of course, of course. And you are baptized in the Holy Church?”
“Yes,” Jarl lied.
I must have made a sound because Fenrir’s hand tightened on mine.
“If the answer was no,” Fenrir asked, “would you still do the rites?”
“Well, ah,” the priest stammered. “I am only sanctioned to join two baptized in the eyes of God.”
“She serves your god,” Fenrir pointed to me.
“I am baptized,” I said.
“Ah well, then.” The priest cleared his throat. “You should not be unequally yoked. So says the Apostle Paul.”
“Huh,” Jarl snorted. “No one’s getting yoked.”
My cheeks burned twin flames.
“Perhaps, Father, you might make an exception,” I said quietly.
“Perhaps, perhaps,” the friar agreed, taking out a cloth and mopping his face and bald head.
Fenrir stepped forward. The friar cringed when the giant warrior held up his fist but soon realized what Fenrir held: a leather bag bulging with coin. Silently, Fenrir turned it over and let the coins spill out. They clinked to the ground, a small pile of gold. The friar blinked at it.
“Perhaps it will be all right,” the man bobbed his tonsured head. “Would you like to come inside?”
Jarl grimaced and ducked his head inside the the chapel door to peer at the dark, dank space.
“No,” he said, and I hid a smile. His shoulders would barely fit through the door. There was no way both Jarl and Fenrir would fit.
My smile fell away. Which warrior was I marrying? Did it matter?
“Very well,” the priest said, his eye on the gold. “One moment. Wait right here.” He disappeared into the tiny church and returned with a heavy gold cross, a cup of wine and a small plate that contained the Host. These he set on the stone wall. “You wish to begin immediately?”
“Yes,” Jarl said. His voice held a tinge of growl.
“Yes, thank you, Father,” I said, and grabbed Jarl’s hand. Please don’t turn into the beast.
Jarl looked down at me, a golden glint in his eye. Fenrir had retreated behind us. By unspoken agreement, it was settled. I was to marry Jarl.
“Very good.” The priest was practically rubbing his hands together in excitement. “First, you must confess your sins and be absolved.” He turned to Jarl and motioned for the warrior to go with him a few steps away for privacy.
Jarl did not budge. “What sins?”
“All your sins.” The priest scurried back to stand before us when he realized the warrior wasn’t going to follow. “How long has it been since your last confession?”
“A long time,” Jarl said slowly, stroking his beard.
“Decades,” Fenrir muttered with a laugh and I frowned at him.
“It’s all right,” the priest encouraged. “You can sum them up.”
Jarl was still rubbing his bearded chin. “What exactly count as sins?”
The priest’s eyes bulged. “Well,” he said after a pause. “The usual. There are many types of sin—”
“Can you give me a list?”
The priest took a deep breath. “Well, first there are grave sins. Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife…” he trailed off as Jarl started nodding.
“Is that all?” Fenrir asked.
“Um, no. There’s also heresies, envies, drunkenness—”
“I’ve definitely done that one,” Jarl said.
“Revellings,” the priest’s voice faltered a little. “M-murders—”
“That too,” Jarl said at the same time Fenrir asked, “What about war?”
“What about it?” The priest dabbed the cloth at his shiny brow.
“Well, we’ve killed many men. But was it murder?” Fenrir rubbed his chin. The friar looked like he would faint.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jarl shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I’ve murdered a few men outside of battle. Just for fun. Is that all of the sins?”
The friar licked his lips. “Well, no. Those are