The Caged Viking

by Sandra Hill

  After that, they checked out two of the three bedchambers, not the one occupied by Zoya. Everyone else slept on the broad benches, as much as a yard wide, that lined the great hall, or they slept in the few bed closets that were so small they held only a bed. Some of the married couples and families had small longhouses within the “community.” Plans were made to gather all the dirty linens and replace them with clean. Signe assigned a maid, Dora, who was already the laundress, to be in charge of the bedchambers, as well, which was apparently a step up in the hierarchy of the estate, if Dora’s toothless smile was any indication.

  “We should take all the bed furs out, as well, to be brushed of fleas and lice,” Signe mused. “Kaelen, the healer, is complaining about an excess of skin bites, especially on the little ones.”

  Fleas and lice? Kirstin shivered with revulsion…and a real or imagined itch all over her body. She had to keep reminding herself that this was a different time than the one she’d become accustomed to.

  “Soon it will be too cold to work outside,” Signe continued. “Winter comes early in the Norselands, but the weather is perfectly warm for air drying today.”

  Really? Kirstin thought it was chilly, probably about fifty degrees. But then, she guessed that would be balmy for people who lived with below-zero temps, snowbound, for many months. She had been spoiled, living in California.

  Luckily, one of the bedchambers, the smallest, was cleaned by the time Bjorn staggered in. Apparently, he’d been following his father about while he assessed the situation at Haukshire, and his continuing need for recovery from his injuries caught up with him. After they helped him into the bed, Kirstin made sure that he wasn’t suffering fever again, and then decided sleep would be the best remedy since they had no medicine she knew of. That was another thing she would have to check…Signe had mentioned a healer. Would the healer have some medical supplies that could help Bjorn, even primitive ones?

  Soon after that, Hauk stomped in to the hall where she was talking to Signe while she oversaw the raking of rushes and scraping of the tables. A boy was pushing a wooden wheelbarrow of ashes out to a bin beyond the back courtyard where they would eventually be used to make soap. It was the little boy, Gorm. Hauk did a double-take on seeing Gorm, the little guy pushing a heavy wheelbarrow, his bruises, his still running half-bloody nose. Was he seeing himself at that age?

  Hauk was accompanied by the steward, Halfdan, who was clearly upset about something, as evidenced by his red face under his bushy gray beard. Even his bald head was red. “I understand you have appointed a housekeeper to replace my steward,” Hauk snapped at her.

  Halfdan gave her a look that translated to, Now the you-know-what is going to hit the fan.

  She gave Hauk no chance to say more. “I did no such thing,” she declared, putting her hands on her hips, “or if I did, I merely relieved Halfdan of some of the duties he so clearly had no time to handle.” Talk about lame subtlety! A diplomat I will never be.

  Hauk’s eyes swept the large room, taking in the contrast between the clean and the uncleaned-as-yet tables, as well as the piles of filthy rushes which reeked especially bad now that they had been stirred up. In fact, he leaned on one of the tables and jerked back when his hand came away covered with a layer of the greasy goop. He wiped that hand on his pant leg and turned with arched eyebrows to his steward.

  “I…um…well…mayhap there was too much to do with overseeing the inside and outside the buildings,” Halfdan stammered.

  “Hmpfh! The outside isn’t much better. Why have those boats not been recaulked yet? And why are there so few laying hens in the coop? And the roof on the hay shed is leaking.” When Halfdan just stared downward and did not answer, Hauk said, “Let us check the storeroom with Frida.” By the frown on Hauk’s face, Kirstin guessed that Hauk was not optimistic about what he would find there.

  Just then, several men walked into the hall, swords dangling from their belts, wearing leather armor. They made their way to one of the clean tables on which pitchers of ale, manchet bread, slices of hard cheese and cold meat of some kind had been laid out for those who had missed the noontime meal. After taking a few bites and a long draw on a horn of the ale, the tallest of the men glanced over and noticed them standing at the other end of the hall. “Hauk!” he exclaimed and made his way with long strides toward them. “When did you get back?”

  “Earlier today,” Hauk replied with a smile. “Where have you been, Thorkel?”

  “Off fighting Jarl Ingolf’s men of Stormstead. Again! They have developed a habit of sneaking onto Haukshire land and stealing whatever is foraging in the woods…cattle, hogs, sheep.”

  “Egil told me about Ingolf’s misdeeds some time ago. I thought he would have given up by now.”

  “Nay. He was depending on you not coming back anytime soon before he took over here.”

  “’Tis good I have returned then,” Hauk said.

  “Yea, ’tis good you are back,” Thorkel agreed and gave him a man hug. “And who is this lovely lady?”

  “This is my wife, Kirstin,” Hauk told him in an exaggerated menacing tone.

  Thorkel’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Then he turned to Kirstin and said, “Welcome, m’lady.” To Hauk, he murmured, “You always were lucky with women. You have a prize here.”

  “I assume you know my steward, and this is Signe, I believe.”

  Thorkel ignored Halfdan but grinned at Signe, who developed a sudden blush. “Oh, I know Signe.”

  “Hah! You’d like to know me, you loathsome lout.” And she stomped away toward the kitchens.

  “She likes me,” Thorkel told the rest of them, widening his blue eyes with exaggerated innocence. He was a good-looking man and tall enough to tower over Signe, not that appearance was important, or the most important thing. And obviously Signe was not pleased with his attention.

  “Oh?” Kirstin remarked.

  “She just does not know it yet.”

  Typical overconfident Viking male! she thought. And she should know, having lived in a home with about a dozen of them over the years.

  Hauk prepared to leave, but before he left, he surveyed the hall once again, then looked at her and nodded.

  If that was his idea of an apology after his initial criticism of her taking over Halfdan’s job, Kirstin had a thing or two to say to him. Later. She must have made a growling sound, though, because he turned around, came back, and kissed her, hard and quick. Just as abruptly, he pulled back, gave her a wink, and left.

  Now that was an apology she liked, to her chagrin.

  To even more chagrin, she noticed that Hauk had changed direction. He had been going to the storage room with Halfdan, but now he was heading toward his bedchamber, the one occupied by Zoya, who opened the door at his first knock and threw herself up and into his embrace, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. And the jerk didn’t put her down. Instead, he stepped inside and closed the door behind them.

  Sigurd looked amused. And Halfdan looked like he’d just escaped the guillotine.

  Chapter 15

  Resisting the irresistible…

  Kirstin was exhausted beyond anything she’d experienced in years, even worse than the time two years ago when she and several of her colleagues made the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in Spain. They hadn’t completed the entire trail, but hiking twelve miles a day for five days had left them practically dead on their feet, and they’d all been physically fit. Tonight, there wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t hurt, what with helping to scrub, haul, and empty buckets of water, launder linens and clothing, and dust cobwebs with a long-handled broom.

  On the other hand, Kirstin felt more satisfaction than she could recall, even from her teaching, which she happened to love. There was something to be said for seeing the actual immediate results of hard work. Hauk’s home didn’t sparkle by any means, and it would never be a precious diamond, but it was on its way…a rough cut semi-precious stone, so to speak. Like the amber that Vikings so prized, mu
ddy colors hiding something in its center.

  Signe had told her that there were bathing huts for the men and women, with firepits to keep the water warm. They were located beyond the back courtyard, between the main longhouse and the “village,” comprised of a half dozen or so smaller longhouses for families. Since the evening meal would be served soon, that was Kirstin’s goal: to bathe and put on clean clothing.

  She had to wonder if Zoya would be joining them for dinner, and where she would be seated, in relation to Kirstin. She also had to wonder what happened with Hauk and Zoya when he’d closed his bedchamber door behind them earlier today. She hadn’t seen either of them since then.

  She shouldn’t care about such petty things as who sat next to whom, but she did. Jealousy struck even if their marriage wasn’t real, or whatever you called a couple a thousand years apart. Jeesh! Instead of fixating on her jealousy, Kirstin focused on the discomfort Hauk would be facing over the seating arrangements; with that in mind, she smiled inwardly as she made her way to the small bedchamber on the other side of Bjorn’s where their trunks had been taken. When she got there, she was pleased to see that it was clean and smelled of fresh-aired linens and, thank God, brushed bed furs. She took a clean gown out of the trunk, one of the gowns Hauk had gotten for her from the plunder pile, and laid it on the bed. She still wore the same patched underwear, which she would wash when she bathed, and she determined to find some fabric and make herself extra sets, though she was no seamstress.

  She sat down on the side of the bed and removed her slippers and the long hose which she’d tied above her knees. She yawned and decided to lie down, just for a moment. Then she decided to cover herself, just for a moment, with the fur, which was so cozy, just like the Sherpa fleece coverlet her sister Madrene had given her last Christmas. That was the last she recalled until she heard someone calling her name.

  “Kirstin, wake up.”

  She burrowed deeper under the warm blanket and sniffed. Hmm. Wasn’t Sherpa fleece supposed to be fake lamb’s wool? She’d never known hers to have the scent of animal. Oh, well! She shrugged and rolled over on her side.

  “Dinner is ready,” a male voice said.

  “Go away, Daddy,” she said on a moan. “I’m not hungry.”

  A booted foot shoved her in the behind and laughed. “C’mon, sweetling. Either you get up, or I join you.”

  What? Kirstin’s eyes shot open. First of all, although her father occasionally called her sweetling, he would never threaten to slip into bed with her. Rolling over to her back, she stared up at Hauk who was standing at the edge of the mattress, smiling down at her.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said.

  He dared, and lifted the bed fur, sliding under beside her, boots and all.

  “Those boots better not be dirtying these clean sheets, or you are in big trouble, mister.”

  “Sorry!” he said, and chuckled, not at all repentant.

  She turned away from him and repeated, “Go away.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured, spooning his big body behind her, nuzzling her hair aside so he could kiss her neck, “Mayhap I am not hungry right now either. Not for food, leastways.”

  She stiffened and tried to pry away the arms wrapped around her middle, to no avail. “You’ve got to be kidding. You were locked away in a bedroom with a woman with whom you have a history, probably boinking each other’s brains out, and you expect me to be all horny and hot for you.”

  “Huh?” he said. “If boink mean what I think it does, you are wrong. I did naught with Zoya except peel her arms off me and tell her she would be leaving for Hedeby with Egil when he goes for supplies.”

  Kirstin was relieved. She hadn’t really believed Hauk would hook up with Zoya, after the efforts he’d made to bring Kirstin here, but she knew that some, no, many Viking men practiced the more danico. So, there had been a niggling little doubt.

  “Did I mention I am staying here and sending Egil in my stead? There is too much needs done here for me to leave so soon. In any case, Zoya will be gone shortly.”

  Kirstin felt another rush of relief. Yes, over Zoya being gone. But more because she’d been afraid to be alone, back here in this time period. Hauk was her anchor. A scary prospect, that! But she could see that Hauk was trying to make her feel better; so, she smiled, tentatively.

  In response, he leaned over to lick her ear and tug on the lobe with his teeth, causing shots of intense pleasure to shoot through her body and her to shiver with a reluctant delight. He chuckled again, this time at the obvious reaction he’d gotten. “Any chance you want to bonk with me?”

  “It’s boink, not bonk, you idiot,” she said and moved his hand which had somehow found its way to her one breast where it had been rubbing in a circular fashion.

  Oddly, now that she knew Zoya wouldn’t be an issue for her at Haukshire, Kirstin was concerned for the woman…a bit. She turned over to look at him. “What will Zoya do in Hedeby? You brought her here from her country, the Russian lands, didn’t you? You can’t just drop her in the market town. Even if you gave her some money, a woman alone in these times…no, that wouldn’t be right.”

  “You are defending Zoya? Do you hate me so much you would want her to stay?”

  She didn’t hate him at all. Unfortunately. “That’s not the issue. I’m a woman. I don’t want to see any woman mistreated.”

  “Hah! Zoya is the one who has apparently been mistreating…anyone within her reach here at Haukshire. She will not suffer…under me, leastways. Truth to tell, she has a brother who lives in Hedeby. He operates one of the trading booths, selling samovars and exotic teas. She could go to her brother. Or I could make arrangements for her to return to her homeland. Or I could possibly find her a mate. She has a choice.”

  She giggled.

  “What is so funny?”

  “The idea of you being a matchmaker.”

  He shrugged. “I misdoubt she would accept any hersirs I might offer anyhow. None of them have enough coin or lands.”

  “So, Zoya has meekly agreed to your plans?”

  “Not so meekly,” he admitted with a shrug, “but she has to realize that she has no choice.”

  Men! Clueless, whether eleventh century Vikings or twenty-first century Vikings. “So where is Zoya now?”

  “You should ask! She has planted her pretty arse in the middle of the high table, waiting to be served.”

  Just as I suspected would happen. “She has a pretty ass and you want to send her away?”

  “M’lady, all my bed partners have pretty arses. Even you.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  The man was charming and hard to resist. Kirstin had to steel herself against him. “So, you want me to come to dinner and sit next to my…what? Enemy? Rival?”

  “Rival would be good. That would mean that you want me. But, nay, I don’t expect you to sit next to Zoya. She might try to scratch your eyes out, or so she has threatened. I will sit between the two of you.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  “Well, I could ask for food to be brought to this bedchamber so that we can dine after…” More waggling of his eyebrows as he attempted to pull her into a tighter embrace.

  She shrugged away and scolded, “Behave!” Then, she observed, “You’re in an awfully jolly mood. You must have had a good day.”

  “Pfff! I have had an awful day, not awfully jolly in any way. Halfdan is gone, by the by. When he realized that I was beginning to uncover his misdeeds, he stole a horse and rode away, probably to Jarl Ingolf’s estate.”

  “Will you chase after him?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Too many things more important at the moment.”

  “Like what?” she asked and sat up, propping another smaller bed fur behind her for a pillow behind her for support.

  He leaned on one elbow, trailing a fingertip along her arm from her elbow to her wrist, smiling at the fine hairs that stood up in its wake.

  She repeated, “Like what?”

  Hi
s face went serious then, and he sat up as well, propping himself against another fur pillow. “I feel so guilty.”

  “For kidnapping me?”

  “Nay, never that, my wife.” He put an arm around her shoulders and forced her to accept the embrace. “I should not have stayed away so long. It was selfish of me. ’Tis a burden on my heart that I thought only of myself, and forgot there are people here who depend on me. Many of them have been living in squalor, their homes barely habitable. The storerooms are almost depleted. Gods know, but there might have been starvation this winter if I had not returned. With the longships not being sea ready, the people couldn’t have escaped if they wanted to.”

  “Couldn’t they go to a neighboring estate for help?”

  “The only one approachable by land is Ingolf’s Stormstead, and he would have used that as an opportunity to take over Haukshire.”

  “Then it’s good you returned when you did.”

  “It is.” He squeezed her shoulder. “And I appreciate all you did today.”

  “I didn’t think you noticed.”

  “I noticed,” he said and leaned over to give her a quick kiss, drawing back before she could smack him away. “Does that mean you want to bonk now?”

  She suspected he deliberately mispronounced the word. “No,” she said, emphatically. “Besides, I stink. I was about to go to the bathhouse before I made the mistake of lying down on the bed for a moment.”

  He pretended to sniff her hair, then pronounced, “Phew! You do stink. Methinks we both need to visit the bath hut.”

  She drew away to survey him. He wore a clean, dark blue tunic over black braies. His hair was clubbed off his face into a long braid. And he’d shaved. “Looks to me like you’ve already bathed.”

  He took her hand and stood, pulling her with him. “I may have missed a few spots on my body. You can help me find those secret places, and I’ll find yours.”