The Viking's Captive (6 page)

“Tykir? My stepuncle betrayed me? I can hardly credit that.”

“He did not betray you. All he said was, ‘If you want
the best healer for your father, go get Adam.’ He did laugh in a most peculiar manner afterward when I told him that I would do just that.”

“I am not surprised. Tykir always did have a warped sense of humor.”

“Don’t you want to know about my father’s illness … so that you may be prepared to cure him when we arrive at Stoneheim?”

“Why should I inquire about his symptoms when I do not intend to treat him?”

Her face was turning red with frustration. He could tell that she would love nothing more than to punch him in the stomach, but she feared alienating him more than she already had.

“Why won’t you treat him? Why have you given up medicine? Why do you disdain the talents your One-God gave you? ‘Tis selfish, if you ask me.”

“That is my business, and mine only. ‘Tis not for you to know.”

“Hmph! Well, I will tell you anyhow … so you can ponder your method of treatment, despite what you say. He was struck down in a minor battle about three sennights ago … a blow to the head from a spiked mace ball. He has been drifting in and out of sleep ever since.”

“Did you hit him over the head?”

“Nay, I did not.”

“Do not be giving me a look of such affront, as if you’d never struck a man over the head with a deadly weapon. I know better than most that you have, as evidenced by the goose egg on my crown.”

The woman did not even have the good sense to look guilty. Instead, she raised her stubborn chin arrogantly.

Suddenly another thought occurred to him. “Your father has been unconscious for three sennights and you expect me to cure him! What happens if I fail? I’m
wagering on a head-lopping for such a serious offense. It’s an impossible task you ask of me, my lady.
Impossible!”
He made a grunting sound of incredulity. “Are you demented, woman? I am a healer, not a magician.”

“Nay, I am not demented. Just desperate,” she said.

Adam could tell that the admission cost her much in pride. He knew too well how it hurt to lose a loved one. In a softer voice, he commented, “You must love your father very much.”

To his surprise, she shrugged. “The old sly-boots is even more selfish than you are. Of course, I want him to live, but mostly because once he is well, I can convince him to …” Her words trailed off, and her face turned an even brighter shade of red.

Now this was interesting. “Convince him to what?” he asked when she looked everywhere but at him.

“Never mind,” she said and stomped off.

He considered her methods of persuasion laughable …

On her next pass by him, she continued the conversation. “If you must know, I have four sisters,” she informed him.

“Huh?” He didn’t recall asking her.

“Four sisters! And all of them nagging and pulling at me for just one thing.”

“And that would be?”

“A husband.”

Uh-oh!

“You see, my father’s family has a tradition … an ironclad one, passed down through many generations. The daughters in the family can only be married in the order of their birth. The first daughter must wed afore the second. The second must wed afore the third. And so on.”

Tyra looked so doleful he almost felt sorry for her.
Almost. Humor outweighed pity, however. “Let me guess. You are the eldest.”

She nodded.

“Why not just get married?” he asked when he was able to bank his mirth.

“Look at me,” she said, sweeping a hand from her blond head to her big-booted toes.

I’m looking. I’m looking. I’m looking way too much.
“What is your point?”

“My point is that I do not have the usual feminine attributes that attract a man.”

I beg to differ, my lady.
“If you say so.”

“Besides, by the time I had seen ten winters, my father realized that his seed was only going to bear girl-fruit. He decided that if he wanted his kingdom to pass to his blood kin, it would have to be me. So he trained me to be a soldier … a
good
soldier. That’s why it’s urgent that you heal my father. If he should die, I must continue to lead his men.”

“I’m confused. If your father dies, you will lead his men. So, if you want your father to live, it must be so you will be able to find a willing husband.”

She glared at him. “Nay, you dunderhead. Do you deliberately misunderstand? I do not want a husband, but I
do
want my sisters to be able to wed. And I want my father well again. Then he can take back his chieftain duties. Then I can announce the severing of our kinship … a divorce, if you will. If I am no longer his daughter, there is no need for me to take on a loathsome oppressor … in other words, a husband … for my sisters’ sake.”

“If this severing is such an easy task, why have you not done so before?”

She blushed. “‘Tis a recent idea of mine.”

“This is the most far-fetched bit of feminine ill-logic
I have ever heard,” he said. “What in the name of God would you do if this … this … divorce took place?”

“ ‘Tis simple. I will join the Varangian Guard.”

“In Byzantium?” His jaw hung open for a moment before he noticed and clicked his teeth in place. “I have never seen or heard of a female in that prestigious group of Viking warriors.”

“I have already spoken with the emperor’s captain. He thinks a female addition to the Guard would not only be permissible, but highly desirable.” She raised her chin another notch, daring him to disagree.

All he could say was, “Oh, my God!” Adam started to laugh then. And laugh. And laugh.

When he told the story to Rashid that evening, he was still laughing.

Rashid, of course, homed in on the most irrelevant part of the story. “Four sisters! Five in all! Dost think that is a Norse version of a harem? Allah be thanked, that it might be so!”

“Five sisters do not count as a harem. Definitely not! And do not dare bring up the subject!” He couldn’t stop laughing, though.

However, his assistant saw things in a different light. “If her father dies, mayhap her tribe, including the sisters-harem, will look for you to be the warrior princess’s husband.”

Adam stopped laughing.

Y
ou could say he was Alrek the Klutz…

“I will
never
become a fierce Viking warrior,” Alrek complained dolefully. Tears pooled in his green eyes which he quickly wiped away on the sleeve of his tunic.

Adam was still tied to the mast pole, but he’d sunk down to the deck. The boy, whose hair was bleached almost white by the sun, had plopped down beside Adam and was now munching on a piece of
gammelost
wrapped within a slice of manchet bread. Every time he took a bite, he pinched his nose to avoid smelling what he was eating.

“Why do you eat the overripe cheese if it tastes so bad?” Adam had asked him more than once.

Alrek had replied, “‘Cause I need to eat so I kin grow big and strong.”

Both sets of legs were extended outward. Alrek’s were half as long as Adam’s … and so skinny, it was pitiful. Even more pitiful were the bleeding blisters that marred the palms of his hands—testament to his dogged determination to become a sailor and a fighting man.

Alrek had a habit of hanging around Adam when he wasn’t busy elsewhere. He liked to spout off endlessly about all his failings. In truth, he liked to spout off on
any subject. It didn’t matter if Adam contributed to the conversation at all; Alrek just wanted someone on whom he could unload his problems.

Adam’s eyes kept coming back to the open blisters on the boy’s hands. Finally he advised, “You should dip your hands in salt water every chance you get. It will burn like Hades, but the salt helps to keep the wounds from festering, and the blisters will heal faster.”

Alrek nodded. “Eyvind, my rowing partner, says horse piss will serve as well.”

“Eyvind is teasing you.”

“Really? Ah, well, good thing I could not get Rafn’s stallion to stand still whilst I held a bucket under him. That’s how I got this knock on my knees.” He motioned with his bread toward a knobby knee that was bluish-black and turning yellow on the edge. “Kicked me good, the bloody horse did. Tyra, our chieftain, said it would have served me good fer being such a lackwit. She is a fine leader … I will give her that … but, whew, she can be hard fer a woman. What do you think of her?”

Adam didn’t know what to think. The way Alrek’s mind moved from one subject to another, he could scarce keep up.

“Huh? Huh? What do you think of her?”

“I try not to think of her,” Adam said, choosing his words carefully.

“Some say she is still a verge-on, which is no doubt true, her being so big and tall and fiercesome. Puts the men off, you know.”

“Alrek, do you even know what a virgin is?”

“ ‘Course I do,” he said with affront. “‘Tis a woman what has had no man’s longship up her fjord, so to speak.”

“Well, that is one way of describing it.” Adam should have warned the boy of the inadvisability of speaking
so intimately of one’s superiors, but all he could do was grin.

“And a man is a verge-on when his longship has never set sail, so to speak.”

Longship? That certainly is a new name for a man’s best friend.
Adam started to cough and couldn’t stop.

“I’m a verge-on,” Alrek admitted in an undertone, as if disclosing some big secret.

Adam coughed some more, then choked out, “Of course you are. Ten years old! I would hope so.”

“How old were you when yer longship first went … uhm, a-Viking?”

If this little whelp thought Adam was going to discuss his sex life, he could think again. ‘Twas long past time to change the subject. “Why is it so important that you become a Viking warrior?” The boy was going to kill himself trying, if what Adam had observed the past two days was any indication.

“A
fierce
Viking warrior,” Alrek corrected him. “‘Cause it be a noble profession. ‘Cause ‘tis the only way fer a homeless boy like me to gain lands and riches. ‘Cause I would rather drink goat piss than stay behind at Stoneheim with King Thorvald’s daughters. Tyra is not so bad, but wait till you meet her four sisters! Many a man in King Thorvald’s court has gone a-Viking just to escape their doings.” He rolled his eyes dramatically.

“You’re too little to go a-Viking. You should be home playing youthling games.”

“I’m ten years old. I am not little,” he asserted, puffing out his little chest. “Besides, I have no home. This ship is me home. When I am back at Stoneheim, I sleep on the floor of the great hall.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Me father left when I was five. Some say he is a fighting man in the Rus lands; some say he is dead.” He
shrugged with indifference. “Me mother died last year of the childbed fever. She were a kitchen helper. Two sisters and a brother I have back at Stoneheim. I am the oldest, so I mus’ support them with the silver coin King Thorvald pays me each year.”

“That is very interesting. Well, it has been nice talking with you. Farewell.”
How is that for a not-so-subtle hint? The boy always overstays his welcome, not that he is ever really welcome. I would rather be alone. ‘Tis best to keep my distance from each and every one of these vicious Vikings.
He turned to look at Alrek and almost laughed aloud, then immediately made a correction in his mind.
Each and every one of these vicious Vikings, including the want-to-be vicious Vikings.

“I heard you were an orphan one time, too.”

Adam groaned.
I knew there was a reason why I wanted him to go away.
“Who told you that?”

“Rashid.”

“Rashid talks too much.”

“He does? It took me ever so long to get any useful information from him.”

“Are you a spy sent by your leader to pry secrets from us?”

Adam had been jesting, but Alrek’s eyes went wide with amazement that anyone would credit him with such responsibility.

“Nay, I am not a spy, but I will mention yer idea to Tyra. Dost think yer recommendation will have influence with her?”

“About as much as your talking has on me.”

Alrek beamed as if Adam had paid him a high compliment.

“As to what I was sayin’ afore … do not be so hard on Rashid. Mostly, he sez nothin’ of import. Jist things like ‘Allah save me from pestsome gnats,’ or ‘You chatter
more than a harem houri.’ What is a whore-he? Is that a whore what is a man?”

Adam would have put his face in his hands if his hands were free. “Don’t you have to go back and row some more?”

“Nay! I am done with that job fer the day. I am going to mend nets this afternoon.”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
“With a needle?”
He is going to turn those blistered palms into a war field.

Alrek nodded and stood.

Bless the saints! He is going to leave me alone.

“There is something I wanted to ask you.”

I should have known. The boy is not leaving after all. Now he gets to the reason for his visit … what he has been leading up to all along. On the other hand, mayhap this is some form of Norse torture I have never heard of in all my living amongst Viking families. Torture-by-boy-with-blathering-tongue.