Page 88 of A Tale of Two Vikings

So, it was quite a hilarious entourage that made its way down the still snowy path to the woodcutter’s hut. Bolthor was already composing a saga. In fact, he said he expected to get two or three poems out of this happenstance.

Just before they opened the door of the hut, Eirik squeezed his wife’s shoulder and said, “Methinks this is going to be the most lively yuletide season we have had at Ravenshire in years.”

Sweet revenge…

Ten days of captivity and Toste was grinding his teeth once again at Esme’s stubborn streak. Despite all manner of threats, she just would not release him. He was running out of torture ideas.

“Stop chewing on your fingernails,” he snapped. “There will be none left for me to pluck out. And your whistling is not melodious, believe you me.”

She looked up from her chair by the fire, which she’d been gazing at pensively. And continued to gnaw nervously on her thumb. “Eirik and Tykir and Bolthor should be home soon, now that the weather has turned warmer,” she commented. Water could be heard dripping steadily from the roof into a rain barrel outside. “Dost think the news will be bad for me?”

“The news will be bad for you no matter what the Witan has decided.”

“How so?”

“Even if they rule in your favor, you will have me to contend with.”

“I had no choice, Toste.”

“Oh, you had a choice, m’lady. I know of no other noble-born woman who would have done what you have.”

She shrugged. “If a man had done what I have, people would have said he was justified. Why must women be treated differently?”

“Because women are different.” He told her explicitly how they were different.

She ignored his crudity and asked of a sudden, “Have you ever been in love…with a woman, I mean?”

Nay, only with men. By thunder, she insults me even when she doesn’t try to. “Nay. Why do you ask?”

“Methinks that if you ever loved a woman the way you loved your brother, well, that woman would be very fortunate.”

“Are you trying to win your way into my favor with compliments? Forget it!”

“Nay. I am just making conversation.”

“Are you a virgin?” he asked, figuring she wasn’t the only one who could change the subject at will.

Her eyebrows shot up with surprise. “Yea, I am. Why would you think otherwise?”

“A woman who is so doggedly determined to get her home back at any cost might be tempted to use her body as a bargaining chip.”

“Like a prostitute? That is what you think of me?”

“Absolutely.”

He saw tears well in her eyes at his insult, but he did not care. The woman had unmanned him with her trickery. She was a whore, if not in actuality, then in spirit.

They had no chance to pursue the subject further because there was a commotion outdoors. Then all hell broke loose. His own personal hell, that is.

Eirik, Tykir, Bolthor, Eadyth and Alinor crashed into the small room. The men’s heads touched the low ceiling. All of them were bunched close together gaping at the outrageous sight of him tied to a bed with only a fur pelt across his middle to cover his nudity.

All five of them just gawked for a long moment. Then slow smiles crossed all their faces.

Without his usual introduction, Bolthor burst forth:

“Once was a maid

who tricked a lad.