by Sandra Hill
Hauk and Egil went to the great hall each evening, claiming a need to mix with their comrades-in-arms and not give offense to Sweyn. They invited Kirstin to accompany them, but she felt too uncomfortable in the heavily masculine, rowdy atmosphere and chose to eat in the bedchamber. Usually a slice of manchet bread, a hunk of hard cheese or some skyrr, which was similar to yogurt, and a mug of ale. Hauk rarely stayed away more than two hours and never came back drunk, although she was sure many of the Vikings were three sheets to the wind before they hit their beds, or fell asleep with their faces on the greasy trestle tables..
Occasionally, during the day, Kirstin crept about the castle, wanting to memorize details for future reference. Winchester was not a crude timber castle like many were at that time, more closely resembling forts, but it was not all stone either. A combination of both. Any splendor it might have had was sorely missing now after the Viking plunder. Precious illuminated manuscripts on parchment being compiled in the castle librarium by monk historians, who had the good sense to make themselves scarce among the men they’d deemed despicable pagans, lay torn or burnt on the floors, which of course was a crying shame. If she could have saved some of them, she would have. Alas…!
The walls of the great hall and solars were mostly bare, any weapons or adornments having been removed by Aethelred when fleeing or Sweyn’s men as battle rewards. There was a stale smell like a beer dive after hours in the hall, and the rushes were ripe with scraps of food and animal waste; the whole place needed a good cleaning. Many of the Winchester servants had been thralls, or slaves under the Saxons, but were all deemed slaves under Viking rule. None of them felt the need to be extra vigilant in their work. The only place where there was much activity was in the kitchens and laundry where a Norse soldier stood guard with his trusty long-handled, twin-bladed battle axe in hand, scowling or cursing out orders.
Sweyn and his troops would be leaving soon to conquer other parts of England, and, as Kirstin knew from her history lessons, to be eventually declared king of all Britain. Not that he knew that. Or that he was going to die soon after.
But Kirstin couldn’t be concerned about that man whom she was convinced was a megalomaniac, half narcissist and half serial killer. His changeable moods were downright scary; he could jump from happy-happy to sword-wielding nutcase with no notice, and beware anyone who stood in his path.
No, Kirstin was more concerned with her own problems. No avoiding the fact that she was going to have to return to the future. Soon. She’d noticed Hauk looking at her on occasion, when he didn’t think she was aware, and she could tell that he was waiting for her to announce her departure. The only question was: When?
“I have a surprise for you,” Hauk said when she came back from the garderobe that afternoon. And wasn’t that an experience, by the way! If the hall was rank, the medieval indoor privy was a nightmare of filthy odors. A modern bathroom would be the thing she missed most if she were stuck in the past, something she had no intention of doing.
“More loot?” Bjorn interjected from his cot, although it had been clear that Hauk was addressing her.
“Nay,” Hauk said, scowling his son’s way. “Enough with the loot!”
Bjorn just grinned.
“Come with me,” Hauk said, his lips twitching at some secret. “Grab some clean clothing. One of those gowns from the treasure pile will do.”
She gazed at him suspiciously.
“You will like my surprise, I promise.”
She was still suspicious, but she let him take her hand, and lead her out of the room. They went only a short distance to another bedchamber, which was empty except for a large brass tub with steaming water more than halfway to its brim. On the floor were a number of toweling linens, a large-toothed ivory comb, and most precious of all…a small bowl of soft soap, which, be still my sybaritic heart, was clearly not made of the usual lye.
“Oooooh!” she sighed and turned to him with thanks. “How did you manage this?” she asked, quickly adding, “No, don’t tell me. You are Viking. Anything is possible.”
“Was that an insult?”
She squeezed his arm and said, “No. I’m thankful. Now, go so that I can bathe in private.”
“What? You do not need my help in scrubbing your unreachable parts?”
“No, thank you.”
“Perchance I could join you if we squeeze together just so?”
“Not a chance!” She laughed.
He left her alone and she trusted that he would leave her alone for a while, but she made quick work of removing her dirty clothes and getting into the warm water, just in case, sudsing herself up with the soap, washing her hair, rinsing herself with a small bucket several times before she leaned back and sighed. This was better than the most indulgent bubble bath in her modern soaking tub, even though this brass container had her sitting with her knees raised and the water was less than a foot and a half deep. She would have liked to relax longer, but the water was already turning cold.
She dressed in a green wool dress so finely woven it was almost like silk and not as warm as you would expect from wool. It had a round neckline and long sleeves, rather full to the ankles, but she was able to tighten it at the waist with a braided gold cord belt, which she tied off with a bow. When Hauk came back…without knocking, she noticed…she was attempting to run the comb through her snarled, damp hair. Without conditioner, it was almost impossible.
Immediately seeing her dilemma, Hauk said, “Let me.” He forced her to sit on a stool while he faced her back, resting his buttocks on the lip of the tub, and began to work on the tangles, one at a time. Meanwhile, he chatted amiably. “I’ve decided to go back to Haukshire.”
A chill ran over Kirstin. So, the time had finally come. Hauk intended to leave Winchester Castle. And where did that leave her? Was he abandoning her, or planning to wait until she time-traveled back home? But she would address that later. For now, she asked, “With Bjorn?”
“Of course. I think he is well enough to travel to Jorvik in the back of the wagon.”
“Jorvik. That’s York. For goodness sakes, Hauk, that’s about two hundred miles. It would probably take you a week to get there.”
“I don’t think so. If Egil and I take turns driving, we can make use of all the daylight hours. Four days at most, mayhap five, but not a full sennight.”
“I think you’re being overly optimistic, but even so, a week or four days, Bjorn is in no condition to travel,” she said and winced when he pulled on a particularly difficult tangle. “Ouch!”
“Sorry.”
“I assume that Jorvik is where your longship is docked, or wharfed, or anchored…or whatever you call it.”
He smiled at her fumbling over boat terms. “It is.”
“Isn’t there somewhere closer where you could move the longship?”
“Now that you mention it…yea, I think that is a good suggestion, considering Bjorn’s condition. I will send the two men of my shiphird still remaining here to ride to Jorvik immediately where the rest of my men are already preparing for a voyage. Sea Wolf is a fairly small longship, and no doubt I will need to hire on another six or more sea men. They will be directed to bring the longship to London. On horseback, the men should need only two days to get to Jorvik, and in the meantime, it will take Egil and I only a day and half to get Bjorn to the wharf.” He kissed the back of her neck and murmured against her ears, “Thank you, dearling.”
Before she could swat him away, or ponder just how good his lips felt against her skin, he stepped back. “I think I got all the tangles.” He ran the comb smoothly down through the long strands several more times just to be sure.
She shivered at the almost erotic delight of the comb’s teeth stroking her scalp. She’d heard about scalp massages being sensuous experiences offered in luxury spas, but had never experienced before. Wow!
He turned the stool so he was facing her. His eyes took in her gown, and her scrubbed face, and hair which hung in a straight da
mp swath from behind her ears down to her shoulders.
“You are beautiful,” he observed.
Clean and presentable, she thought. Even in the best of circumstances, back in her own time, with make-up and all the modern enhancements, she would have described herself as attractive, never beautiful. But instead of arguing, she said, “Thank you.”
“We need to talk,” he said, running his fingertips along her jaw and over her lips. Then he took both her hands in his.
“About my going home?”
He nodded.
“If you’re committed to beginning a trip to London tomorrow, I should probably attempt to go back sometime today, or tonight.”
“Are you committed to that course?”
She hesitated, but then nodded. What other choice did she have, really?
“Even though we are wed?”
“I’m not sure that would be considered a legal marriage in my time.”
He raised his eyebrows at that argument. “And if you are with child? You would take my son or daughter to a place where I could never meet them?”
“I am not pregnant,” she stated.
“Are you certain of that?”
She could feel heat flood her cheeks. “Almost certain. Besides, if I stayed here, I might get pregnant, and then I might not ever be able to return.”
He frowned. “‘Might’ is a far cry from certain.”
“Come on, Hauk. Be honest. You don’t really want a wife.”
“Oh, I do not know about that. I admit that I once felt that way, but I have grown accustomed to your stubborn ways and high conceit. And talkative? Truly, dost have an opinion on everything, sweetling?”
She made a tsking sound of disgust. “That doesn’t sound very attractive.”
“You are attractive, believe you me. It took all my impressive self-control and raging enthusiasm,” he glanced pointedly at the bulge in his slim pants, “not to barge in whilst you were bathing and take you wet and all, mayhap against the wall, or on my lap sitting on your stool, or kneeling on the stone floor, face to face, or, wait, wait for this, better yet, both of us kneeling on the floor with me at your back, and—”
“Oh, you!” she said with a laugh, then pulled her hands out of his grasp and cupped his cheeks, giving him a quick kiss. “You are a charmer, all right.”
“But not charming enough to convince you to stay?”
“Oh, I’m tempted. Maybe if you were staying here, or near Winchester Castle where my time-travel portal is…I don’t know…maybe I would stay for a while to see where things could go.”
He stood suddenly, causing her hands to drop at her sides. He looked down at her and shrugged. “So be it,” he said. “I can’t stay. I’ve already neglected Haukshire far too long. By the time I get back there, assess how bad the situation is, go off to one of the market towns, Hedeby or Birka, to replenish stock before the winter snows come in, well, there is just not enough time. My lands are in the north…not so far as the endless daylight region…but brutal cold, just the same. And so mountainous that farming is nigh impossible; I have no plow lands to speak of. We must rely on hunting and trapping for sustenance and skins to trade, supplemented by goods purchased for provender…oats, vegetables, and such.”
“And all this takes time,” she concluded, smarting over his seeming indifference. “That time crunch thing again.”
“Yea,” he agreed. “But, most important, I think Bjorn will recover better in a secure, more quiet setting. In addition, I have a neighbor who is a threat. Last time Egil was there, Jarl Ingolf of Stormstead was seen prowling about my estates in a proprietary manner.”
He sounded so calm and rational. Did he really care so little that they might never see each other again? Meanwhile, her heart was breaking. Yes, the separation needed to happen, but that didn’t mean it would be easy. Not for her anyway.
“A stalemate then, between you and me,” she said and quickly explained, “A standstill, or impossible situation.”
“Just so we are clear…are you saying, regarding the bond between you and me, that time is the issue for you? Not enough time to know each other?”
“Basically. I mean, there are other issues, of course, which may or may not be resolved eventually, but, yes, all of it would take time. Which we don’t have.”
He nodded, as if her words confirmed something he’d already thought. “So, tonight it is then?”
“Yes,” she said. “Bjorn is getting better. The battle is over. My job is done.”
“Is it now?” He was examining his fingernails, as if to see if they needed paring. “I suppose you are right.”
She was surprised that he seemed so accepting of her departure. While her heart felt like it was breaking, Hauk seemed resigned to her leaving, maybe a little relieved. They hadn’t made love since the one night in the tent, and no opportunity to repeat that experience while here at Winchester with four of them crammed in one room, one of them almost dying. That meant they wouldn’t have any opportunity before tonight, either.
Unless…
“So, this is good-bye,” she said casually, then slanted him what she hoped was a sultry invitation. “You know what you said about what you could do with me on your lap?”
A smile slowly emerged on his lips.
Crazy in love, or just plain crazy…
“You’ve gone barmy,” Egil concluded as he watched Hauk pour several drops of poppy juice in one of three cups of wine.
“Hey, only three cups! Don’t I get some, too?” Bjorn asked as he half sat, half reclined on the cot, his condition having improved dramatically throughout the day, as the young were wont to do.
“You’ve had more than enough strong drink, my son,” Hauk declared, “and, besides, there’s almost no wine left.” With that, he poured the last few drops into a fourth cup, anyway, just for appearance sake…and to please the boy. This was intended to be a farewell toast to Kirstin, once she returned from a last trip to the garderobe before she made her exit back to her time and place in the future. Gods! I still cannot believe I have accepted her stories.
“I cannot believe you have accepted her stories,” Egil said, as if reading his mind.
Hauk shrugged. “What else can I believe?”
“That she is barmy as a bat?” Egil offered.
“Well, that’s two of us then, according to your theory,” Hauk said. “Didn’t you just call me barmy for fixing her wine?”
“Fixin’, eh? She’ll be the one fixin’, once she discovers what ye’ve done. Fixin’ yer arse.”
“By then, it will be too late. We’ll be at sea and far from Winchester and her supposed time portal, or whatever she calls it.”
“I still do not understand why ye can’t jist take the arm rings from her, like ye did afore.”
“Because then she would know what I am about and start haranguing me hither and yon to give them back. My way, it will be too late afore she can protest.”
Bjorn laughed. “I did not realize having a father would be so much fun.”
Hauk was fairly certain his son was making mock of him, but he had no time to pursue the subject because Kirstin had returned. She was wearing one of the gowns he’d gotten from Sweyn’s plunder pile, a garment of a silky-like fabric in a pretty sky-blue color that matched her eyes and the rare blue amber pendant that hung about her neck on a gold chain. She had taken time to plait her hair into one long braid. The arm rings were on her upper arms.
“What is this?” she asked, noticing the four cups sitting on top of his travel chest.
“Wine, a farewell toast to you afore we go to the hall,” Hauk said, leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. She did not duck as she usually did when he got too close. How could she after what they’d shared in the bathing chamber this afternoon? I thought I knew everything about the sex arts. I had no idea women could do that…that thing.
She eyed him suspiciously, but took the cup he handed her. He took another for himself and handed one eac
h to Egil and Bjorn. She took a tiny sip and made a grimace of distaste. “It’s not very good wine, is it?”
He shrugged. “It will do.”
Bjorn made a choking sound which Kirstin took to be equal distaste for the wine.
“’Tis been a pleasure meeting you, m’lady,” Egil said, tipping his cup in salute to her.
They all took sips of their wine.
“I’ll never forget watching you and my father spin through space,” Bjorn told her. “And here I was hoping for a stepmother who could teach me such fancy tricks. Oh, well!”
More sips of wine.
Hauk cleared his throat and took one of her hands in his. “I wish you would stay, at least for a while, but I have to thank you for all you’ve done for us…releasing me from the cage, getting us out of the castle, curing Bjorn of his injuries.”
“Hah!” she said. “You wish I would stay for a while…until you got bored. You can’t fool me.”
“But mayhap you would be the one to get bored,” he pointed out, although he did not really believe that. Leastways, it had never happened to him with other women.
“Well then, I would just have to make sure you worked extra hard to keep me unbored.” She grinned at him to demonstrate her meaning, as if he hadn’t understood that she meant sexplay. “Lucky you, that you won’t have to work so hard.”
She had tears in her eyes as she teased him, and he knew the parting was affecting her, too. Not enough to change her mind, but hopefully enough to temper her wrath later.
He released her hand, and they all drank the rest of their wine. Bjorn would stay in the room while he, Egil, and Kirstin went to the hall. Leastways, that was the plan they’d laid out to Kirstin earlier.
“Come, wife,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion, and held out a hand.
Instead of taking his hand, she wobbled on her feet, swayed, then fell forward into his arms. Just before she fell into a drugged sleep, she looked up at him. “You didn’t!” she accused him.