Page 125 of The Outlaw Viking

“There’s pain and discomfort for a few days after the operation. The king would think I’d maimed him.”

“You could explain.”

“Elgiva, it’s out of the question.”

“If you say so,” Elgiva agreed much too quickly.

“We’d have a better chance of Selik telling the king how to find your G-spot,” Rain commented dryly, then slapped a hand over her mouth, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.

“What is a G-spot?” Elgiva demanded to know.

Rain groaned, then explained, despite Elgiva’s constant interruptions to ask, “And what didst thou say the meaning of ejaculation is?”, or “orgasm?”, or “You say women in your country demand the same pleasures as men?” When she stopped talking, Rain turned around, horrified to see that several of the other gentle ladies had sidled closer, eavesdropping with avid interest in their conversation.

“Humph! ’Tis just like men to keep such information from women,” Elgiva complained. “I had a husband onct who considered himself quite the lover, but he ne’er mentioned any G-spot. No doubt he saved those pleasures for his mistress.”

Then Elgiva smiled mysteriously, and foreboding rippled over Rain in waves.

“I’m sick to death of King Athelstan’s court,” Rain complained to Eirik later that day. “And I’m even sicker of all the useless people who stand around posturing and begging for his favors.”

Eirik just smiled patronizingly at her, having heard her complaints enough the past two days to know them by heart.

They were seated along with a hundred or so other people at one of the numerous trestle tables in Athelstan’s great hall, where yet another feast was taking place. They’d been placed so far down the salt that she could barely see the king or his closest advisors. The abundance of smoke from the poorly ventilated hearths at either end didn’t help much, either.

Even by modern standards, the fare surpassed sumptuous—baked lamprey, veal and beef custard pies, swan neck pudding, lentils and lamb, pigeons in grape sauce, poached mustard-glazed pike, quail stuffed with dates, whole sides of beef and venison. And that was just the main course. Servants also carried in huge platters of cabbage with marrow, herbed beets, creamed parsnips, pickled mushrooms, a vegetable gruel, artichokes with blueberry rice, even a medieval salad consisting of turnips, shredded cabbage, dried fruits, mustard, brown sugar, and honey. For dessert, there was gilly-flower pudding, almond creme, elaborate subtleties, custards, stewed fruits, and honey cakes. And barrels and barrels of wine and mead.

Rain would have given her eyeteeth for a pepperoni-and-mushroom pizza. And a diet Coke.

The king and his closest friends stood, about to leave the dais for their evening’s entertainment—music, storytelling, dice and board games. Rain accepted that another day had gone by and Selik still lay in that damned dungeon. And she’d accomplished nothing. There would be no other opportunities tonight to approach the king.

“Pssst!”

Rain twisted around, looking for the source of the noise.

“Pssst!” she heard again and looked the other way, noticing a flash of lavender material in the shadows of a hallway. She stood, telling Eirik she had to visit the garderobe, and walked toward Elgiva, who put a finger to her lips to indicate silence, then crooked her finger for Rain to follow. Once they’d gone down several winding corridors, she stopped and whispered, “You have several minutes to present your case to the king.”

Rain grabbed both of Elgiva’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Oh, thank you, thank you. How did you manage to convince him to see me?”

“Well, ’tis not exactly an audience I have managed,” Elgiva said, shifting her eyes slyly.

“Exactly what have you managed?” Rain asked suspiciously.

“I talked to him today about the vasectomy, and he was not yet convinced. In truth, he said, ‘The day I let The Outlaw’s wench within two hides of my cock is the day I declare myself lackwit and give up my throne’, or some such foolishness. Methinks I will need more time to persuade him.”

Rain groaned, feeling her case for Selik slowly slipping away. “Elgiva, get to the point. You said I would have an opportunity to speak to the king.”

“Yea. Athelstan intends to visit his scriptorium to view the manuscripts completed today by his scribes. If we just happen to be passing by at the same time—well, he cannot turn us away. Can he?”

Rain closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, fighting for courage and the right words to use in what might be her only opportunity to speak to King Athelstan.

Are you there, God? I could use a little help here.

The blasted inner voice remained stone silent.

King Athelstan stood examining an illuminated manuscript while a tall monk pointed out its finer details. Dozens of candles lit the airy room, which had a number of high stools placed before tall, lectern-style desks containing parchment and colored inks.

“Elgiva!” the king exclaimed with delight, just noticing her in the doorway. “I thought you had retired for the night.”

“Nay, I was restless and decided to walk for a bit.” She placed both her dainty hands in the king’s, and Rain saw the love they shared in just that little gesture.