by Sandra Hill
"Pssst! Pssst!"
Alinor turned this way and that before she recognized that it was King Anlaf's older sister, Gudny, who was standing behind some barrels of salted herring, trying to get her attention. Jerking her head sharply, she indicated that Alinor should join her in hiding.
"What?" she asked, looking up at the woman, who was tall as a man, wide-shouldered, thick-boned, and buxom as a ship's prow.
"I need a love potion," Gudny said furtively, shoving a few coins into Alinor's hand.
Alinor tried to give the money back. "I have no knowledge of love potions."
"Yea, you must. Witches know things we mortals do not."
"But I'm not—"
"I'm desperate," Gudny moaned. "Dost know what it is?"
**** Very possible missing paragraph/page. Please correct if you have the book! ****
"Of course not! Never would I embarrass him or myself so."
"Embarrass?" Adam frowned with confusion. "He loves you. You love him. You are going to Britain alone. He is going to the Baltic alone. What is wrong with this picture?"
"Tykir does not love me. Oh, I concede that he has formed a fondness for me. Mayhap that's the best any woman could hope for with him... but he does not love me. That I would know."
"Just as he would know, without the telling, that you love him?"
"I don't want to discuss this any longer with you, Adam. It's over. Painful as it is, I have resigned myself to the fate God has given me."
He shrugged hopelessly, then tried a different tack, "Come with me, then."
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "With you? To the Arab lands? Why?"
"My lady, how you insult me!"
"Hah! Your conceit is much too great for you to take offense at my refusal of your overblown charms."
"Was it my charms you thought I was offering?"
She blushed.
"Nay, I just thought you might like to come along as a fellow adventurer. A friend. Think of all the exciting new places and people you would meet. Think about—"
"What? Do my ears play me false?" Tykir asked in a voice reeking with consternation. "What are you up to, Adam, that you would invite the Lady Alinor to accompany you?" Then he turned to Alinor. "And you, what a fickle lady you have become, that you would go from my bed to Adam's with nary a second thought."
She and Adam both gasped at Tykir's misunderstanding of the situation... and at the vehemence of his wounded pride.
"If you are going anywhere with any man afore returning to your homeland, you may as well come with me to the Baltic," Tykir said and stomped off.
She and Adam exchanged a stunned look at Tykir's uncalled-for reaction, followed by the less-than-complimentary offer. Not that she was about to refuse. No matter how ungracious the invitation, Alinor was not so lackwitted as to fail to realize she'd been given a reprieve. A temporary reprieve, but a reprieve just the same.
Adam smiled widely and bragged, "I am so good!"
She smiled back and gave her thanks where thanks were due. Certainly not to Adam. Thank you, God.
Alinor was once again alone, momentarily.
Bolthor was on one of Tykir's ships, helping him rearrange the goods in the six longships he would be taking to the Baltic. These last-minute changes were necessary to accommodate the special Saracen horse, Fierce One, that Anlaf had gifted to Tykir, previously, along with some mares the king wanted him to sell in Hedeby on his way back.
The air was cool, but the sun was warm on her face as she leaned against a narrow tree near the docks. Tykir gave a silent signal to her that they would be a little bit longer and soon was gone from sight on one of the far boats.
Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind. Alinor squirmed and tried to see who it was, but she was being held firmly with one hand clamped over her mouth and another wrapped round her waist from behind. Lifting her off the ground, the person proceeded to edge backwards toward the forest and a number of outbuildings. Her eyes darted this way and that, but no one seemed to be looking
her way. She squirmed and flailed, to no avail. Was it a jest someone was playing on her?
Nay. The only person she could think of who would do that would be Adam, who was gone, or Rurik, who was working alongside Tykir and Bolthor.
Was it King Anlaf's way of getting back at her? Nay Alinor knew that Anlaf would enact his revenge in public, not in a clandestine manner.
Her questions were soon answered when she was dragged into an empty woodshed where Egbert and Hebert stood with a half-dozen ruthless-looking men of various nationalities. Mercenaries, she would wager. A few looked to be Vikings, and a sorry lot they were, hard-eyed and scruffy in attire, though Norsemen just the same; probably Viking outlaws.
"Are you two mad?" She pulled out of the grasp of her captor and, storming at Egbert and Hebert, stood in front of some large object lying on the far side of the woodshed. "To come into Norse country . . . surely you have lost your senses!"
"You ungrateful bitch!" Egbert's face turned purple with rage, and he raised his hand to strike her across the face... a familiar ploy of his.
"Nay, Egbert," Hebert cautioned, putting up a hand to halt his brother's arm. "We can have no visible marks on Alinor if our plan is to work."
Egbert paused, saw the wisdom of Hebert's words and kicked her in the shin. It was a sharp, brutal blow that caused her to stumble backward and almost fall. She was saved by the burly chest of her captor, who still stood behind her.
"What is this all about?" she asked, trying to hide the pain in her wobbly voice. "Surely a mere woman like me is not worth all this trouble."
"Actually, you are," Egbert informed her icily. " 'Twould seem that news of your witchcraft has spread throughout Britain. And, surprisingly, there are some men who see value in that. Do you really have a tail, Alinor?"
"Mayhap these smitten men think you can perform some magic in the bed linens," Hebert added with a lascivious snicker.
"In essence, your bride-price has gone up substantially, tail or no tail," Egbert announced. "Methinks that your being leman to a Viking jarl—yea, news of that disgrace traveled, too—will add even more coins to the marriage purse." He shook his head with wonder, studying her. "I cannot see the attraction myself, but apparently you must have some talent that would hold the interest of a fierce Viking. There are a few Saxon noblemen who consider that a challenge... to taste what has been thawed by a heathen barbarian." He shivered with distaste at the thought.
Demented! My brothers have gone from bumbling idiots to full-blown demented bumbling idiots. "Tykir will never allow you to do this to me," she asserted, though she was not so sure he wouldn't consider himself well rid of her. Nay, that was not true. Tykir was a man who set high standards for the treatment of women… even one who was a mere leman... or former leman.
"Yea, he will," Egbert declared, puffing out his chest and smirking with some secret satisfaction. "He will when you convince him that you come with us of your own choice."
She snorted with disbelief. "And why would I do that?"
"Because of this," both brothers said at the same time, and stepped aside to reveal the pile of clothing that lay on the bare ground behind them. Nay, it was not a pile of clothing, Alinor realized. It was...
"Oh, my God! What have you done?" Alinor rushed forward and dropped to her knees before the tortured, mutilated body of a young boy. At first she did not recognize him, so swollen was his face with bruises and his eye half out of the socket. One leg lay askew, having been broken midcalf and left unset. The chest area of his tunic was sliced and bloody. Then, horror filled Alinor as she realized that it was Karl, the young boy who had been serving customers at Tykir's stall in Hedeby.
She looked up at her brothers through teary eyes "Why?"
"The lackwit wouldn't tell us, at first, how to find your Viking lover," Egbert complained sulkily.
"You fools! He probably didn't know. He's not a Viking."
"And he was insolent, the whelp was.
Called us the devil's get, he did," Hebert added defensively. "How were we to know how much information he withheld without the torture?"
Tears streamed down Alinor's face as she studied the boy, not sure where to start, and whether she would do more harm handling him. "Hurry. Get a healer to come at once. Tell Father Caedmon inside the castle that his presence is required."
"There is no need of a healer. The boy died this morn." There was disgust in Egbert's voice, not remorse.
Hebert motioned the six mercenaries to the doorway and whispered some orders to them. They left with haste, and Hebert came back to her.
"I always thought you two were fools, and I sometimes thought you cruel, but I never thought you evil. This is an utterly evil act." She motioned to the lifeless body before her.
"We didn't do it," they exclaimed at once.
"Dost think the mercenaries you paid are at fault? Nay, you are the ones who will suffer eternal damnation for this ruthless act."
"Be that as it may," Egbert said. "We do not have much time. Will you come with us voluntarily, or will we order the same treatment for Thorksson?"
"Tykir? Are you threatening to do the same to Tykir?" She laughed mirthlessly. "You two dimwits are in the middle of Norse lands, a hairsbreadth from a castle housing hundreds of soldiers, and you threaten a high-placed Norseman? You truly are mad."
Hebert grabbed Alinor by the upper arm and pinched hard. "Watch your tongue, sister, or you may follow the same fate, eventually."
"Nay, we would not attack your lover in his own lands. We have given orders to the six mercenaries Hebert just dispatched," Egbert informed her with relish. "If either of us disappears, or is captured, or has any harm done to him, there are five hundred marks of silver awaiting the delivery of Tykir's tortured body, or his head, to my chamberlain in Wessex."
"And what makes you think Tykir couldn't defend himself?"
"Oh, I daresay he could defend himself in a fair fight, even if the odds were against him... as they were when he attacked us outside the Norse palace in Jorvik last fall," Hebert said.
Apparently, Hebert had forgotten who had attacked whom, but that was not the important issue. He was right: Tykir was not immune to a devious, backstabbing attack. Still...
"I could scream now, and you two would be dead within minutes."
"Ah, 'tis true, 'tis true," Egbert agreed, smiling maliciously. He had one front tooth missing, whether from the rot or some misbegotten escapade, she did not know... probably the latter. "But where are the six mercenaries, my dear? Already they have blended with the hundreds of men hereabouts. They may have even left on one of the departing ships. Could you identify them, for certain?"
Alinor's shoulders slumped. She hadn't paid them heed once she'd seen her brothers, and then the poor boy.
Could she take the chance of Tykir being harmed?
Should she trust in his greater strength and intelligence to handle the situation?
Would strength and intelligence matter when dealing with blackguards?
In the end, Alinor had no choice.
"What do you want me to do?"
"There she is!" Tykir breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he'd found Alinor.
She was walking toward him, easy as can be, as if he hadn't been worried sick about her whereabouts when he'd discovered her missing a short time earlier. Too many people still considered her a witch and would relish naught more than a witch burning.
But wait. Who were those two men flanking her? Two red-haired men. Oh, holy Thor! It was the dimwit twins.
He put up a hand to signal his men to hold their weapons till he could discern what devilment Egbert and Hebert were up to now. He could handle the two no-brains himself, if need be. And if they'd done even the slightest thing to harm Alinor, he would wring their scrawny necks like the chickens they were.
"Alinor," he said with barely controlled patience, "I have been searching for you." He ignored her brothers as he spoke.
Alinor licked her lips nervously. "You know my brothers, Egbert and Hebert."
"I know them." His greeting was rude, but he did not care. Something was amiss, and he had no patience for niceties when directness was called for.
"I need to speak with you, Tykir, alone." Alinor's chin was lifted high with determination. Or was she trying not to weep? God, he was going to kill those brothers of hers if they'd done anything to harm her.
He motioned to his men to stand in place and keep guard over the brothers. Then he took Alinor firmly by the upper arm and pulled her toward the trees. "Well?" he demanded. "What are Cain and Abel up to now?"
She smiled at what she must have considered a jest. Blessed Lord, could she not see how little in the mood for humor he was? But he then noticed that the smile did not reach her sad eyes.
"What's wrong? Have they harmed you?"
She shook her head.
"Threats?"
She shook her head more vehemently. "I've decided to return with Egbert and Hebert to Britain," she blurted out.
In his surprise, he had no time to hide his gasp. "But just a short time ago you agreed to go to the Baltic with me."
"Nay, Tykir, I did not agree. You said I may as well go with you if I was even considering going elsewhere with Adam. You never asked my opinion. Besides, 'twas a forced invitation."
"I meant it."
"I know you did."
"I do not think I ever intended to let you go to Britain," he admitted grudgingly.
Her eyes went wide at that news. " Tis too late," she told him, regret clear in her voice.
He tilted his head in puzzlement. "Why is it too late?"
Her jaw clenched into rigidness. He recognized stubbornness when it stared him in the face, and, oh, he was suddenly very, very fearful that she was determined to leave him now.
"I just meant that I have decided that it is best for me to return to my homeland. It's where I belong. Egbert and Hebert have promised that I will not have to wed again. And I have my sheep and Graycote and... " Her voice broke. "Do not make this difficult for me, Tykir."
"Why? Why must you go?" The shrillness of his voice shocked him. It reminded him of... oh, my God!... it reminded him of the exact same words he had exclaimed numerous times as a boy when others had left him, too. His father, mother, Ruby, Eirik, Dar and And. Oh, God, it was happening again. He had somehow opened himself up to the excruciating pain again.
"Oh, Tykir." The pity in her voice rocked him to his soul.
Pity? Is this what I've come to? He lifted his chin, but not because he wanted to keep tears from welling over in his eyes. He refused to believe he actually had moisture welling there. Nay, he wanted to show her that he could be stubborn, too. He wanted to show her that he could be as heartless and uncaring as she was now. He wanted... so many things.
Dashing his pride aside, he inquired, "Are you sure this is what you want, Alinor?"
She nodded, her eyes huge with unshed tears. Tears of pity, no doubt.
"You have other choices, sweetling." God, I am pathetic.
She tried to smile at his endearment but could not. "Nay, I do not. It is my final decision... mine to make, not yours."
He swallowed over the lump in his throat. "And you will be safe from your brothers' machinations?"
She nodded again. "Try to understand. It's for the best."
Best? Whose best? he roared inside. I am dying, and she says it is for the best.
She put out a pleading hand, as if to touch his arm. He could not stand that now. It would be his undoing. So, he slapped her hand aside.
She put the hand to her mouth to hold back a sob. But he could see that she was not going to change her mind.
"So be it," he said finally. Before he spun on his heel to walk stiffly away from her, he took Egbert and Hebert by the necks and cracked their heads together, just for the pleasure of it, for all their past misuse of Alinor and to ease this wild need to go berserk. "Hurt her and you hurt me," he murmured under his breath to t
he two whimpering brothers.
Then, without another word to her or even one final, lingering look, he turned his back and stomped away.
As he left he thought he heard her murmur, "I love you."
But he must have been mistaken.
Alinor arrived on British soil a mere two sennights later, and she was not in a good temperament. Her brothers probably wished they'd never come after her.
She'd done nothing but vomit with the seasickness, despite the placid seas. When she wasn't emptying the contents of her stomach, she'd been eating everything in sight.
Or she'd been rushing for the chamber pot in a screened-off area to relieve herself. There was something to be said for the male anatomy, which allowed men to just whip out their manparts and take care of matters over the ship's side, she'd thought on more than one occasion. And crying... Blessed Mary, she'd done more weeping and sobbing than ever before in her entire life. If she hadn't been making water from one end it had been the other. Good thing she was inclined to sleep so much.
Furthermore, she'd taken every free moment to berate her lackwitted brothers for every infraction they'd levied against her in the past twenty-five years. And she had a long list.
They were walking through the Coppergate district of Jorvik now, heading toward the horse stables, where Egbert and Hebert intended to buy some steeds to take them to her—their—estate in Wessex and an eventual parade of prospective bridegrooms. 'Twas enough to make her vomit again.
Suddenly, Alinor came to a screeching halt, causing Egbert and Hebert to run into her back end, which had grown decidedly wider of late, she'd noticed. It was a smell that had drawn her attention. She glanced to the side and smiled. Gammelost. It was a Norseman's booth in the craftsmen's district of Coppergate. Amongst the intricately carved bowls and furniture, there was a linen cloth heaped with the smelly Viking cheese intended for the man's midday meal. Alinor pulled a coin from the cloth flap at her waist and smiled.
