Page 33 of The Caged Viking

She and Hauk were listening to Sweyn prattle on about the events leading up to this day, mostly patting himself on the back for all his heroic efforts in pillaging many English monasteries and villages these past ten years. Presumably this was leading up to his current battle plans.

Ho hum!

If he’d let her speak, she could get them out of this mess. Lickety-split. Maybe. But no, she had to be careful not to say or do something that could alter the path of history. At least, she didn’t think she should do that, or could do that. After all, if that were possible, someone could go back and eliminate Adolph Hitler before the Holocaust, or go back to the fourteenth century and warn everyone that it was fleas that would cause the Black Death or Plague, which wiped out up to two hundred million people. The Stock Market Crash and the Depression...

Hauk took hold of her hand, linking their fingers, and squeezed hard. Under his breath, without looking her way, he whispered, “Pay attention. Sweyn was talking to you.”

A zing of pleasure swept over her, from her palm, up her arm, and throughout her whole body, leaving her warm and tingling. She glanced down at their still-entwined hands which he held over his thigh, which was pressed against her thigh. Then she looked up at him. He ignored her, listening intently to Sweyn, but she noticed a slight tic in his tightened jaw. He was as aware of her as she was of him.

Hauk must have found some place to bathe because he looked like a different person than the creature she’d found in the cage. With his newly washed blond hair pulled off his clean-shaven face, except for two thin war braids on either side, and borrowed clothing befitting a Viking of upper status, he was certainly attractive. Not godly handsome like he’d been reputed to be, but once he regained his lost weight and his prison pallor faded, he would no doubt pose quite a figure.

Suddenly she had an image of herself lying on soft-as-silk furs, with him leaning over her, minus said garments, whispering wicked words, just before his lips pressed…

Oh, my God! Seriously! In the midst of this mayhem, I’m thinking about sex. I must be losing my mind.

Hauk did look at her then, and he knew what she’d been thinking if that twinkle in his eyes was any indication.

Was he having similar thoughts?

Oh, boy! She did not need these complications. With deliberate care, she turned her attention to Sweyn, who sat at the head of the table on a high-back chair he must have brought with him. He was indeed expounding on something related to her. He said that he’d been told third-hand, via an aide who’d spoken to Egil who’d been told by Hauk who’d relayed what Kirstin had said about Duke Richard of Normandy reneging on his agreement to stand with Sweyn in this upcoming battle. “The interesting thing is, my comrades-in-arms, a scout just arrived with news from Gastonbury where our allies were presumably landing. Finan, speak.”

A middle-aged man took a last swig from his horn and stood, swiping with the back of his hand across his heavily mustached mouth. “No sign of the duke. He ain’t comin’.” He then started to sit back down.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Sweyn said. “You must have discovered more than that.”

Finan straightened and said, “Well, yea, a bit more. Whilst there were no signs of the Normans, there was talk of some sighting of a boat hidden in a cove nearby. Not a longship. One of those Frankish designs with a room built below deck to hold passengers. When I checked the area, there was no sign of a boat, though.” He took another draw on his horn and frowned, realizing that he’d emptied it already. “Also, I spoke to some villagers nearby and they claimed to have seen some foreign-looking men with that strange hair style them in the Franklands favor. You know, the one where they comb their hair forward and cut a line across their forehead and they also lob off the hair shoulder-length in a straight line, too. Makes ’em look like lackwits, if ye ask me. You know what I mean,” he said, demonstrating by drawing a line across his forehead.

Others at the table nodded, understanding what he’d meant. He meant a pageboy hairstyle with bangs, a medieval version of the later mushroom haircut popularized by the Beatles.

“I’d shave me head afore I’d cut my hair so,” said one burly Viking who had a wild bush of graying brown hair.

“Makes ’em look foppish,” another man, whose blond beard was braided intricately with colored beads, said. Like a braided beard wasn’t a tad foppish!

“Next they’ll be wearing ruffles on their tunics and bells on their boots. Ha, ha, ha!” This from a man with no teeth, who’d been sucking on what looked like a dragon bone, it was so big.

“Enough!” Sweyn bellowed. “It appears that what the woman, Hauk’s wife, has said is proven true. What say you?” Sweyn and every other person at the table turned to look at her.

Hauk squeezed, then released her hand, helping her to stand. Not that she needed any help, but she appreciated him standing beside her. Finan breathed a sigh of relief that he was no longer being grilled and sat down, waving at a maid for more ale.

“What did she tell you, Hauk?” Sweyn asked, while he gazed at Kirstin’s chest area, no doubt looking for signs of a third breast. If she’d had time, or had thought ahead, she would have put some padding there, just to confuse the fool.

But Hauk was speaking.

She listened carefully.

“All she told me was that Duke Richard would not be coming or sending troops to stand with you in this assault. Oh, and mayhap I forgot to mention…she said that the king and queen would be offered exile in Norsemandy should the assault prove successful.”

Everyone seemed to realize at once that the boat Finan had mentioned must have been sent for the royal couple. “Arne, go at once to investigate and take a hird of soldiers with you. Find the bloody boat and make sure the vessel is destroyed. If ye find any Frankish men about, take them captive and bring them here for questioning.”

A tall, black-haired Viking with a vicious scar running from his left eye, down his cheek and onto his neck stood and left immediately. Outside the tent, he could be heard calling out orders.

“Now then…m’lady Kirstin, isn’t it?...start from the beginning and tell us everything.” The steely glint in Sweyn’s eyes told her that Hauk had been right. This was a man who would as easily kill you as listen patiently.

“There isn’t much to tell,” she said. “All I know is that Aethelred, Emma, and the king’s children will escape to Normandy…uh, Norsemandy…while you overtake the castle.”

“And this is an accomplished fact, in your informed opinion?”

“Well, I meant that this is what is planned,” she amended.