Viking

by Fabio

  He chuckled. "Well, that's the general idea."

  "Then why does the device not work?"

  He grimaced. "The problem is the ropes. I cannot even lash the beam to the winch—"

  "Wench?" she said.

  "Winch," he corrected her, pointing to the device under the frame. "The ropes suspending the shooting arm from the upright brace are way too slack. I'd give my eyeteeth for some strong hemp right now."

  "Hemp?" she asked, bemused.

  "You see, leather rope is not strong enough, and the walrus-skin type is too elastic. And without the proper tension on the beam from above, the darn thing will never pop up—"

  All at once, giggling, Reyna came forward and stroked the front of Viktor's leggings. "Then mayhap we must increase the tension, to make it pop up?"

  He grinned. "Wanton minx." As she squeezed him, he stifled a groan. "You see ... the plank is supposed to be hard and firm .. .'

  "Ah, yea. Hard and firm ..."

  He sucked in his breath between gritted teeth. "But right now the darned thing feels more like a teeter-totter."

  "What means 'teeter-totter'?"

  Moving away, albeit reluctantly, from her titillating touch, he pushed on the beam to demonstrate the slack in the ropes. "See, it goes up and down."

  She hauled him close again and continued caressing him. "Hmm ... Up and down. I like that." And she pushed him toward the petrary.

  Viktor regarded his wife in amazement. "Reyna, what depraved act are you contemplating now? I mean, having wolves and foxes as voyeurs was bad enough—"

  She giggled and shoved him closer to the device. "I am merely trying to help you adjust your shooting arm."

  "Which shooting arm?"

  She chortled. "You must sit on it, my husband."

  "Sit on what?"

  "On the beam. You must sit on it, and I must sit on you, so we can bounce up and down and stretch out the tension—"

  "What tension?" His words were hoarse, barely audible.

  "In the ropes, of course." She grinned and slipped her fingers inside his leggings. "Or whatever other tension you may need to stretch taut, my husband."

  He moaned in agony.

  "Then we can lash the beam to the winch—"

  "Wench?" he gritted.

  "Winch," she said, pointing to the frame. "And then the beam will pop up."

  "Amen."

  Viktor needed no further prodding. Trembling, he straddled the beam, propped his back against the upright brace, and pulled Reyna onto his lap.

  "Ahhh..." Seconds later, Reyna was bouncing on Viktor and panting ecstatically. "I like this teeter-totter, this up and down, this tension."

  "I like this wench." Viktor grabbed his erotically bobbing wife around the waist and pinned her deeply in his lap.

  She absorbed his powerful thrusts amid soft gasps of ecstasy. "Am I not very helpful, my husband? Can you not already feel the tension getting very tight? Mayhap soon we can lash the beam to the wench—er, winch—and verily, then it will pop up entirely—"

  "Verily " Viktor grunted, "it already has ..."

  The expected attack from Wolfgard came a week later, on a cool summer night.

  Stealing in quietly under oar power, Wolfgard and his company docked their longship at Viktor's wharf. Leading twenty of his fiercest fighters, Wolfgard disembarked by the light of the full moon to find the pier strangely unguarded. Stranger still, none of Viktor's vessels were moored there, and the night was almost eerily still and quiet

  At the edge of the wharf, Wolfgard halted his company and squinted at the rocky fell looming before them. Still he spotted no sign of sentries.

  This is good," he muttered to Egil. "My enemy has grown complacent, thinking he has destroyed my longship and we will not attack."

  Egil grinned at him. "Yea, jarl. You have planned your strategy well."

  At Wolfgard's signal, his warriors began creeping up the shadowy trail.

  They never made it to the top.

  Egil was the first to slip on the whale blubber that had been liberally applied to the path. With a howl of fear and surprise, he lost his balance, careened to the ground, and, amid the loud cacophony of his banging sword and crashing shield, rolled back down the trail, knocking two more warriors off their feet before he landed, with a loud cry and an explosive splash, in the fjord.

  "What madness is this?" Wolfgard demanded as he fought to keep his own balance on the slick path.

  "They have greased the trail, jarl!" cried one of his men, just before he also slipped, fell, and went tumbling into the fjord.

  "March around the trail!" Wolfgard bellowed to the others.

  Slipping and sliding their way off the path, the men began navigating up the craggy basalt rocks on either side of them, only to freeze and jerk their heads upward as ominous whooshing sounds hissed out. Within seconds the attackers found themselves being pelted from above by huge heavings of mud, manure, sticks, and small rocks. Curses spewed and groans were bellowed as, one by one, the besieged men were battered off their feet and went tumbling back down the fell to land in the fjord.

  Somehow, Wolfgard staggered upward amid the onslaught, even though his body was soon covered with dung and mud, his advance slowed by the painful pounding of rocks and sticks. At last he spotted his nemesis Viktor the Valiant, standing atop the hill. On either side of his enemy loomed several bizarre-looking machines being manned by his warriors and spewing out vast quantities of muck.

  And the whoreson Viktor was laughing at him!

  "Fight like a man, you craven!" he yelled, waving his fist.

  A split second later, a pie-sized load of manure landed squarely in Wolfgard's face.

  Atop the hill, Viktor was indeed chuckling as he watched Wolfgard and the others retreat and hastily sail off, hoisting lifelines to rescue the warriors still flailing about in the fjord. He turned to Svein, Ottar, and Rollo, who were also watching the rout with broad grins.

  "We did it, my friends. Victory without violence," he said proudly.

  "As they do in Futuregard?" questioned Ottar.

  "Just as they should."

  "'Tis provident that Ottar told us Wolfgard recovered his longship," commented Rollo.

  "Yes, we were prepared."

  "And 'twas also fortunate we hid our own vessels farther down the fjord," said Ottar. "Otherwise Wolfgard might well have retaliated for our recent raid by setting our own ships adrift"

  "Yes, I must agree our planning was impeccable, every step of the way."

  Viktor left his comrades to keep watch for the remainder of the night. Riding back to the village on Sleipnir, he felt intensely proud of his men, and keenly grateful that they had embraced his system of values and helped him win the day without loss of life.

  Moments later, when he entered his bedchamber and glimpsed the petulant expression on his wife's face, his bubble of elation burst.

  "What is wrong?"

  On the bed, Reyna had been petting their huge brood of canines. On spotting Viktor, the wolves and foxes wagged their tails, but his wife's expression was hardly eager as she rose to confront him.

  'The hour is late, my husband. Where have you been?"

  He couldn't repress a smile as he watched several of the dogs leap off the bed and bound toward him. "We battled Wolfgard tonight—and repelled him."

  Reyna gasped and looked Viktor over carefully. "Were you hurt?"

  "Nay."

  "But you could have been."

  Viktor leaned over to pet the wolves and foxes that were barking and leaping about his legs. "Not likely. You see, we had a few surprises in store for your stepfather. We greased the trail leading from the fjord, and the invaders who didn't go sliding off like pigs in a chute found themselves being pelted with manure, sticks, and rocks. As it turned out, our unwelcome guests could hardly wait to retreat. Believe me, there was no danger."

  Her mouth dropped open. "So that is what you used the machines for! But why did you not slay the villains?" />
  "Because it wasn't necessary."

  "Wolfgard fights with swords, not dung," she pointed out heatedly.

  "Believe me, he never got close enough to pose a threat."

  She moved closer, her expression remaining troubled. "I do not want scars marring your pretty body."

  "Nor I yours, milady." He touched the tip of her nose. "You know, I think you are mad just because you didn't get to join the fight."

  She spoke vehemently. "You know I would do battle for you, kill for you."

  "You can still battle with me," he teased.

  She heaved an elaborate sigh. "Not with you anymore. I am tamed."

  He grinned.

  Watching pride flare in her eyes, he pulled her close and kissed her hair, inhaling its sweet scent. "Darling, I am delighted you are less warlike, because it will mean greater happiness for you and me—and all our people."

  "And what of Wolfgard?" she asked. "He will not give up, and 'tis foolish of you to repel him with the toys of a child. Have you not the courage to kill him?"

  "It is not a question of courage at all," Viktor replied firmly, "but a matter of doing what is right. Sometimes I think it takes greater courage to solve problems without violence—"

  "Mayhap," she conceded, surprising him, "but Wolfgard does not fight with your puny weapons." She drew herself up with pride. "I am still a warrior. If it goes against your beliefs, my husband, then I will slay him for you."

  He smiled at her bravery and protectiveness. "I know you would, darling. But not while you're carrying our child."

  She jerked away from him. "You knew!"

  He nodded tenderly. "Of course I knew. I could see—and feel—your body changing."

  She bit her lip. "Why did you not say something?"

  "I was waiting for you to tell me."

  Hun gleamed in her eyes. "So you could gloat to Wolfgard of your victory?"

  She moved away, and Viktor followed, placing his hand on her rigid shoulder. "Darling, turn around and look at me."

  She complied, her expression guarded and resentful.

  "Are you happy about the child?"

  A secret smile played on her lips. "Yea. But I am not happy that he, like me, will be used as a device to bring the peace.'

  "You don't want peace, then?"

  She scowled, seeming to struggle with her own torn feelings. Then, with an angry gesture, she burst out, "I do not know! I only know that I want the child and me to be wanted for ourselves."

  "Of course you do, darling." He took her hand, placed the soft palm on his cheek, and stared into her eyes. "Believe me, Reyna, you are both wanted—and loved—for yourselves. But the coming of peace will only make all our lives better. Can't you understand by now that our family's destiny—and Vanaheim's—are irrevocably bound together?"

  Solemnly, she shook her head.

  He reached out to brush a wisp of hair from her eyes. "Reyna, help me build a world for our child, a world of peace where he can play and grow strong. In time, we'll have a daughter, too. A happy little princess, just like you used to be. We will watch her pick wildflowers on the tundra. Our tundra."

  Viktor felt touched when he saw his wife's eyes fill with tears, and then she caught him against her, her arms trembling around his waist. "Yea," she whispered achingly. "A happy little princess. I would like that, my love."

  At her poignant words, Viktor's heart welled with a near-painful joy. "Reyna, please say it," he whispered.

  She instinctively knew what he needed to hear. "I love you, my husband."

  A tear spilled from his eye and onto her cheek as he crushed her close and kissed her. "Reyna .., Reyna ... you have made me so happy/'

  Her answering kiss was wet with her own exultant tears.

  The next evening, with his wife's permission, Viktor informed his kinsmen of the coming of his and Reyna's baby. "My friends," he announced in the central chamber, "my bride and I will have our first child come spring."

  As Viktor informed the others, Reyna sat tensely, anticipating gloating and crude comments from her husband's kinsmen. She could not have been more surprised when an awed silence fell. Then Rollo stood, lifted his tankard, and solemnly offered a toast. To our queen, Reyna, and the son she will bear our king ..."

  A cheer went up from the group, leaving Reyna feeling touched and grateful- She smiled at Viktor, and he winked back. Afterward, the celebratory mood continued: Svein presented Reyna with his own talisman of Thor, insisting she wear it to protect the child; and at Orm's bidding, the skald quickly improvised a verse to honor the occasion.

  Reyna blinked at a tear. She had expected scorn and ridicule from her husband's fighters and had received jubilation and acceptance instead. She realized that during the time they had all shared stories together, the warriors' attitudes toward her had changed, just as she had mellowed toward them.

  Still, it disappointed her that she remained shut out of the men's discussion of battle strategies to protect the village from Wolfgard. After all, before she had become an expectant mother, she had been a warrior in her own right, and she felt she had much to offer.

  The next morning, Viktor and Reyna took their brood of canines out for some exercise on the tundra. The excursion was lively, with the foxes chasing lemmings, while the wolves bounded about, leaping over the foxes and each other. The sounds of exuberant howling, barking, and chirping filled the air. Viktor and Reyna strolled along with the animals, holding hands and laughing.

  Reyna still had much on her mind. "What will you do, my husband, the next time Wolfgard attacks?"

  Viktor leaned over and picked up a stick. He whistled softly, hurled the twig, then chuckled as all eleven dogs bounded after it. To Reyna, he replied, "Oh, my kinsmen and I still have a few tricks up our sleeves."

  "I think you should hoist all of Wolfgard's warriors up by their balls," Reyna said grimly.

  Viktor glanced askance at his wife, then went down on his haunches as Geri, with ten other canines on his flanks, returned with the twig. He snatched the stick from Geri's teeth and flung it again.

  Straightening, he slanted his wife a chiding glance. "And you wonder why I won't let you in on our strategy sessions."

  Stubbornly, she continued. "I think you should fill your fancy machines with knives, boulders, and chunks of iron, and hurl that at Wolfgard."

  "I'd like to fill all my fancy machines with you," he teased her.

  She appeared petulant, unmoved. "But that will not repel Wolfgard."

  Viktor sighed as the pack returned. He retrieved the stick from Hati and tossed it yet again. Then he asked his wife, "Reyna, haven't you learned anything from my stories each night?"

  He regarded her sternly, and noted to his satisfaction that she had the grace to at least look guilty.

  "You know I love your stories," she replied.

  "Yes, but have you learned anything from them? Don't you know by now that I'm determined to end this feud without killing people?"

  She scowled and mulled this over. "And what if I can suggest ways to defeat Wolfgard without slaying his warriors?"

  He hooked his elbow around her neck and gave her lips a quick kiss. 'Then I'll happily follow your suggestions, wife."

  Reyna frowned and considered the possibilities. Then her pensive mood turned to glee as she watched ninety pounds of gray wolf crash full force against her husband's chest. Caught off guard, Viktor fell to the tundra, just as ten other exuberant canines landed on top of him.

  Reyna almost split her sides laughing as Thor dropped the stick squarely between the jaws of Viktor's opened mouth. With tears of mirth spilling from her eyes, Reyna watched her husband clench the twig in his teeth and glower up at her ferociously.

  Late the next night, Wolfgard again attacked, docking once more at Viktor's deserted pier. The company embarked amid a thick white fog, but Wolfgard and his men managed to navigate their way up the trail, which this time, blessedly, was not greased.

  At the top of the fell, all
of the men tensed at the sounds of low, eerie screams. Suddenly several white ghosts loomed toward them from the fog, the apparitions lunging frightfully about and screaming banshee wails.

  Wolfgard's company panicked utterly. The warriors screeched with fear, dropped their weapons, and even knocked one another down in their haste to flee. Left alone with the menacing, wailing phantoms, Wolfgard had no choice but to join the retreat. Halfway down the fell, he stumbled and rolled the rest of the way, yelling curses.

  At the top of the trail, Viktor, Orm, Rollo, and Canute laughed heartily as they removed the white linen sheets they had worn to disguise themselves as specters.

  "It seems my wife has some pretty inspired suggestions after all," Viktor remarked.

  Two nights later, Wolfgard made his next move. This time, anticipating Viktor's defenses, he sailed his longship all the way down the fjord to the Atlantic, then landed at midnight at the beach due south of Viktor's village.

  Bearing weapons and torches, the long line of armed men proceeded north from the beach, reaching the tundra without incident—until Wolfgard heard a horrible scream. He and his men rushed to the edge of a precipice to discover that one of the warriors had fallen through rushes into a deep lava tube. There the terrified man was being chased by an angry, snorting wild boar.

  "Throw in a line and pull him out," Wolfgard ordered with disgust.

  The warriors had no sooner hauled the man out and marched on than two more warriors fell into a second pit— this one filled with rats and snakes that had the men shrieking hysterically. While attempting to retrieve these two, Wolfgard sent Egil ahead to reconnoiter the trail, and he promptly fell into a third abyss, in which hundreds of seabirds had been trapped. At the intrusion of Egil's tumbling body, the birds panicked, screeching and flapping about wildly as they sailed out of the pit and defecated all over Wolfgard's bewildered band.

  The dung-spattered company at last regrouped and moved forward. Then, from the distance, the frightened men again heard the eerie screams of ghosts—

  In the frantic retreat that ensued, Wolfgard was knocked to his buttocks by his panicked men.

  "Halt, sons of Loki!" he screamed. "Halt, you miserable cravens!"