Dark Viking (28 page)

Clueless! The man is clueless!
“Maybe he‟s waiting for you to make the next move.”

“Mayhap.”

Mayhap? Mayhap? I’d like to smack some sense into the big oaf.
“And if you‟re forced to marry her, what about me?”

“What we have has naught to do with marriage.”

Forget smacking. Where’s a baseball bat when I need it?
“I cannot believe you said such a fool thing. Do you think I would let you touch me when you‟re married to someone else? Do you think I would let you boink me after boinking your wife?”

“For your information, I have not played you false. Not once. In fact, I have not
boinked
another woman since I met you.” He smiled at his use of the word
boink
, probably figuring she would smile with him.

Not a chance! “Give the man a medal. He‟s managed to keep his pants up for a record . . .

what? Three weeks?”

“Four.”

“Wow! Your self-control is amazing.”

“Your sarcasm ill-suits, m‟lady.”

“Your insensitivity ill-suits, m‟lord.”

“Damn your impertinence! I do not understand why you are so upset about a marriage that may or may not take place, and if it does, at some unnamed time in the future, you might not even be here.”

Oh, great! Use that against me.
“Didn‟t I tell you about my womanizing husband? Didn‟t you think it would matter to me that you were pledged to someone else? And there‟s another thing. Did you suggest trading me for your sister Disa when you met with the pirate?”

“I did not.”

Well, that was something. “Lady Thora said you discussed the possibility with your hersirs.”

“It was discussed, but I was not the one to suggest it.”

Is he for real?
“Don‟t play word games with me. Did you or didn‟t you nix the idea?”

“I said I would consider it, that is all. Besides, it did not become necessary.”

“And that makes everything hunky-dory.”

“Hunk of what?”

She managed to squirm out of his hold and jump to her feet.

Already at the door, she told him, “No, don‟t come after me. I‟m going to find Sigge and sleep with her out at the witches‟ tent. I couldn‟t stand to have you touch me tonight.”

“I could make you stay.”

“I would hate you even more than I do at the moment.”

“I am not too fond of you either at the moment.”

“Well, then, we are even. Maybe this is the way it ends for us.”

“Never! Methinks I have been too lenient with you. Since when does a mere woman dictate what her man should do, especially when her man is a high chieftain of his own jarldom?” “I don‟t care if you are the high chieftain of hell, baby. Since when does a mere man get the right to set all the rules?”

“I will decide when our relationship ends. Do not delude yourself otherwise.”

“So now we have a relationship, do we?”

“What do you call swiving each other silly if not a relationship?”

“I call it one too many booty calls.”

“I would be offended if I knew what that meant.”

“It means the fuck fest is over, sweetheart.” She gasped at her use of such foul language, especially when she had vowed to stop.

Steven just smiled, however, as he sensed her discomfort.

He moved to the door himself then and told her, “There is no need for you to seek a bed pallet elsewhere tonight. I will leave. We both need time apart afore we say things that cannot be taken back.”

It seemed to Rita that they were way past that point already.

“Once the Althing is over, we will settle this issue, but not now, not in the heat of anger.”

“What issue would that be, Steven?”

“The issue of you and me. I came to my bedchamber early tonight, excited to try something new in the bed arts that came to me unbidden this afternoon, and what did I get instead?

Rejection.”

“You think that‟s rejection? I could pull a Lorena Bobbitt on you if you dared to try to screw me now.” She explained exactly what that entailed.

He flinched. “The trickster god Loki must be laughing his arse off, playing with my life like this. Truth to tell, I am not accustomed to rejection, nor am I accustomed to women making demands of me. I need time to decide whether I can accept those terms. Or not. A Viking man is the head of his household, whether it be a humble or a royal one.”

“What‟s wrong with a partnership?”

“If the woman rules, he is less than a man.”

Before she could respond to that last outlandish statement, he left, closing the door behind him.

She wanted to go after him and tell him to come back, but she didn‟t. She couldn‟t. Because the one glaring elephant in the room was love, or lack of love. If a man loved a woman, he made concessions. He certainly didn‟t even think about being with another woman, forced or not.

There was no question in her mind now that she loved him.

The question was: Did he love her?

Or was he even capable of love?

And even if he did love her, was she prepared to stay here in this primitive time just for the sake of love?

Steven was right about one thing. Her God, or the Norse gods, were having a grand old time playing with their lives.

Some laws are made to be broken . . .

“With law shall the land be built up, and lawlessness shall be laid waste,” pronounced Agmundr, the lawspeaker for the opening session of the Althing after banging his staff on the floor of a wood platform. “Peace be to you free men of Hordaland, Vestfold, and Jutland.

Come ye to act justly according to the ancient laws.”

Agmundr, an ancient man with a long white beard that flowed down to the waist of his red tunic under a full-length bear cloak, would act as both the lawspeaker and the Thing chieftain today. Agmundr was wise with age and was said to have five wives, six concubines, twenty-two children, and nineteen grandchildren.

Steven could only imagine how impressed Rita would be with those numbers.

Also represented were twelve men, himself included, representing the various jarldoms on the law council. At least three hundred other men sat about the field.

Agmundr raised his arms high toward the tent roof. “In the tradition of Odin who sacrificed one eye to drink from the Well of Knowledge, I exhort you to judge wisely by a majority rule.

In the name of Forseti, god of justice, I exhort you to judge fairly. This is the way of all good men.

“Order depends entirely on the willing acceptance of those in judgment, which will be shown by the
vapnatak
, or weapon clatter.” All the men banged swords against shields to demonstrate the method by which votes would be cast.

Nodding his head with satisfaction, Agmundr then recited one-third of the Norse laws. The same was done every year. On the fourth year, he started over again. Since there was no written law, this was the way that Norsemen remembered the wisdom of the elders.

Witches could be stoned or drowned, Agmundr told them.

Steven made a note to himself: Warn Kraka and Grima to not call attention to themselves.

Murder could be repaid with murder, rape with rape, except that mostly a sizeable fine was levied according to wergild, or the person‟s worth. Agmundr recited each of those amounts.

Cattle thefts, women thefts, and escaped slaves had specific punishments as well. Even wooing bees and bitter milk carried specific levies.

Smiling to himself, he wondered what Rita would think about these valuations, especially since women, even of the same class, had a wergild much lower than men, unless they were of childbearing years or proven breeders. Better yet, virgins. A high price was placed on maidenheads.

But then, he cut himself short. He was angry with Rita, had not spoken with her since he left the bedchamber last night to sleep in the stables.

A half dozen cases had been settled by mid-morning when they were about to break for the first meal of the day. Steven stood and said, “I wish to plead the cause of Brodir the Pirate. Let me tell you what has happened. Then you may ponder my words and decide this afternoon whether you will permit Brodir to come in person to tell you his story.”

An uproar arose, many of the Vikings outraged that he would even suggest leniency in dealing with the far-famed Norse outlaw.

When Agmundr banged his staff for order, Steven added, “Men may differ in opinions, but it has always been the rule that both sides must be heard to arrive at a just decision. I see that some of Hogar‟s kin are here today. Let them speak, then let Brodir have his say. I must warn you, I have witnesses to support Brodir‟s claims.”

Again, an uproar, mostly coming from Hogar‟s contingent, which included King Olaf‟s retinue. King Olaf glared at him as if Steven had performed some personal affront to him.

In the end, the law council, backed up by the
vapnatak
, agreed to hear Steven‟s witnesses that afternoon. After that, a vote would be taken as to whether Brodir would be able to speak before them on the morrow. Walking out of the tent, heading toward the keep, King Olaf stopped him. “Where do your allegiances lie, Steven?”

“With truth and justice.”

“Even if it goes against your betrothed‟s family?”

Now would be a good time for him to bring up the betrothal, but he hesitated for some reason. “You must be fair. If Hogar was blameless, what harm is there in hearing Brodir?”

King Olaf sneered, but at least he did nothing to prevent the hearing. For now, leastways.

Just then he noticed some of the entertainers arriving for this evening‟s after-dinner amusements . . . jugglers, musicians, and acrobats.
Oh. My. Gods!
There was Rita, wearing a tunic and braies, doing a series of front flips, six in a row after a running start, contorting her body in a manner that should be physically impossible. The acrobats that he had hired watched her closely, then attempted to do the same, most of them failing after two flips.

“Is that the strange sea wench that you rescued?” King Olaf asked.

Steven jerked to attention. He thought the king had gone on ahead of him.

“Yea, that is Ree-tah.”

“Why is she dressed like a man?”

How would I know?
“Because it is more comfortable, I suppose.”

“ ‟Tis scandalous.”

If only that were the most scandalous thing she does!
He shrugged. “The customs are different in her country.”

“And what country would that be?”

“America.”

“Ah. Is that not the country just discovered by Erik the Red?”

He nodded hesitantly, wary of where this conversation was headed.

“Will she be entertaining us this evening?”

I sincerely hope not.

“I understand that she thinks we Vikings stink, and that she teaches your women wicked songs and wanton dances. I understand she is your mistress.”

Steven narrowed his eyes at the king. Someone here at Norstead had a big mouth. First reporting to Brodir, then to the king. He did not like spies in his midst. Not one bit.

“Rita is protected by my shield. If you have any complaints about her, bring them to me.

Otherwise, watch what you say. King or not, you cannot malign her without maligning me.”

“You do not speak as a betrothed man, Steven.”

“Well, mayhap that is because I do not consider myself a betrothed man.”

The king bristled, sputtering with outrage.

And he was the one stomping toward the keep then, knowing this was not the time or place for this conversation. Not when he was so boiling angry.

Just before he entered the back door of the keep, he turned and saw that Rita now had a bow and arrows in hand and was walking toward the competition area.
Nay, nay, nay!

“Oslac!” he yelled, seeing his comrade coming up behind him. “Go grab the wench and lock her in the bedchamber until I have a chance to talk to her.”

“With pleasure.” Oslac grinned at him. “Shall I tell her to remove the tunic and braies afore you arrive to
talk
to her?”

“Not unless you want a carrot chop to your manparts.”

“Uh-oh! Methinks someone is getting grumpy again. Do you know what the left nut said to the right nut . . . you know the nuts betwixt your legs?” “Oslac! Not now!”

“The one nut told the other nut, the lackwit in the middle thinks he is
sooo
hard.”

“What is he talking about?” King Olaf wanted to know.

“Nothing important.”

“Steven needs some cheering up,” Oslac explained.

“Why?” Olaf wanted to know. “Is there something I should know about afore I welcome him to my family?”

“Well—” Oslac began, still grinning.

“Enough!” Steven turned to Oslac. “On second thought, leave Ree-tah alone. Just tell Geirfinn that she is not permitted to enter any competitions, and that includes archery, spear throwing, swordplay, arm wrestling, bear baiting, horse racing, running, or swimming.”

King Olaf‟s eyes went wide at Steven‟s implication that a woman would dare try any of those activities. A few sennights ago, pre-Rita, he would have had the same reservations.

When he got to the great hall, he directed King Olaf and other nobles to the high table, and he was about to go speak with Arnstein to make sure everything inside the kitchen was ready to be served when he was approached by one of his neighbors. It was Jarl Brandr Igorsson of Bear‟s Lair, located far north of Norstead.

“Steven, I have something important to discuss with you.”

Does not everybody?

“Have you met my wife Joy? Her name had been Joy Nelson.”

He motioned to a beautiful red-haired lady in noble Viking attire, clearly with child, talking to Lady Thora a short distance away. “I would not usually bring my wife so far in her condition, but we heard some things about your visitor, and . . .”

“My visitor?” He sighed. “You mean Ree-tah. Sweet Valhalla. Word must have spread afar that I have a freak here at Norstead.”

“Not a freak,” Brandr said, putting a hand of sympathy on his forearm. “A time traveler.”

Steven was shocked, and he moved back a step. While rumors had traveled about a strange sea siren that he had rescued, even stories about her inventing armpit cream and doing weird dances, no one knew about the time-travel tales except Oslac, and he would not be loose-lipped.