The Caged Viking

by Sandra Hill

  And then everything went black.

  You’ve heard of the legendary Christmas Visitor…

  It had been snowing steadily all day. Even so, Hauk and Ingolf had been walking about the estate, wanting to escape the stuffiness of the great hall and the fussiness of the women preparing for the evening yule feast. Besides, this being the longest night of the year, there would only be an hour or so of light today.

  “Is that the bridegroom?” Ingolf asked with a chuckle.

  “Appears so,” Hauk said.

  He and Ingolf had been amused earlier, at the noon meal, to note that the newly married couple hadn’t emerged yet. Must have come up for air, or food, because he saw now that Thorkel was out with some men making sure that all the paths remained cleared. Must be that he hadn’t expended all his energy in the bedplay if he was doing such energetic work now. Leastways, Hauk would use that notion to tease him later when they sat down over mead.

  “What is it about us men that we let women lead us by the nose…or rather the cock…into wedlock?” Ingolf commented idly. “The key part of the word being lock, if truth be told.”

  “You have a poor opinion of marriage,” Hauk replied. “Has your experience been so bad?”

  Ingolf shrugged. “My first wife, who died after breeding me two daughters and no sons, was a living nightmare. Never stopped complaining. A shrew she was.”

  “And your present wife? She does not seem so bad.”

  “She’s not, but then Revna is too young to have developed such bad habits. Best to train them early, if we must wed at all. But we have been wed for two years now, and not a babe in sight. Mayhap she is barren.”

  “Would you put her aside for that reason?”

  “Possibly. If I am not to gain any heirs, and Revna brings no lands, well, I would just as well be alone, without the burdens of a wife. Bed partners are available easily enough.” He glanced at Hauk. “You disapprove? I would think your experience with marriage would have turned you against it, too.”

  “My marriage was not so bad…while it lasted.” Hauk couldn’t believe he’d said that, after all these sennights of rancor. Mayhap he just wanted to disagree with Ingolf, to be contrary.

  “‘While it lasted,’ you say. See. That must be the key. Short marriages. Ha, ha, ha.”

  They’d just arrived at the wider, cleared space of the back courtyard. Going up to Thorkel, Hauk grinned.

  “What?” Thorkel sniped. He’d no doubt been the target of many jests from the men as they worked.

  Despite the cold, Thorkel was wearing only a tunic over his braies, the exercise of shoveling no doubt heating him up. But that did not account for the pink dots coloring his face and neck and collarbones. “I am just admiring your sex flush,” Hauk said.

  The pink turned to rose. Thorkel knew what a sex flush was, Hauk having explained it with great glee once Kirstin had introduced him to the subject.

  “I assume you will be wanting to take a nap after all this activity,” Hauk continued, his lips twitching with suppressed mirth.

  Thorkel told him to do something to his male organs that was physically impossible.

  Ingolf was enjoying their exchange, adding, “If you get tired of your new bride, I have a daughter or two that would make an excellent second wife.”

  “Thank you, but nay thank you. My wife would have my balls for dinner if I even considered such,” Thorkel said. “In truth, I am pleased with my current wife.” He waggled his eyebrows at Hauk then and was about to walk away when he stopped dead in his tracks, staring off toward the fjord. “What in the gods’ name is that?”

  Hauk and Ingolf turned to see what had caught Thorkel’s attention.

  Even though the sun was overhead, there was still only a dim light, and it was hard to see clearly at a distance. Even so, it appeared to be a person, or creature, of some kind, covered with a blue cloak, lined with white. From its hood hung long wet strands of gray hair, or animal fur. Most unusual, though, was its gait. The creature trudged slowly along the path as if dragging a great weight, its head bent forward. In its one hand was a bunch of vines and in the other a strange light.

  As it got closer, the men in the courtyard backed up.

  “Mayhap it is a troll, sent by Loki as a yule visitor,” Thorkel mused. “’Tis just the kind of thing the jester god would do.”

  Hauk and Ingolf looked at him as if he’d lost some brains during his long night of sex.

  “Nay, I think it is a witch,” said Ingolf. “I saw one at the Trondheim Althing five years past. She was an old crone who escaped afore King Olaf could burn her at the stake. Apparently, she had put a curse on the king’s cock that made it make a right turn, halfway up.”

  Hauk and Thorkel looked at Ingolf with horror, then turned to watch the approaching apparition.

  A strange tingling arose on the back of Hauk’s neck, which slingshotted to all his extremities, raising all the fine hairs of his body on the way.

  “Nay, ’Tis not a troll or a witch,” Hauk said with a mix of shock and anger. “‘Tis my wife.”

  Not the reception she expected…

  Kirstin trudged up to Hauk, who was standing with Thorkel and some other man, the three of them just gaping at her.

  “Hauk!” she called out. “Help me get this cloak off. It’s killing me.”

  Hauk blinked with confusion at her demand, then stepped up and behind her to remove the cloak off her shoulder. He staggered and almost dropped the garment, surprised at its weight. No wonder! All the items she’d pinned inside the cloak, not to mention a partial soaking in the pond, must have made the blasted thing weigh at least twenty pounds.

  She clicked off her flashlight and tucked it back inside her gown. Then she handed the grapevines, which had somehow fallen out of their Ziplock bag, to Thorkel, who regarded them as if they might be snakes.

  Finally, she looked at Hauk and smiled. “Hi,” she said shyly.

  He raised his eyebrows, then glanced at her wet hair and the sopping cloak he still held. “Where have you been?”

  She thought he meant where had she been that she’d gotten wet and told him, “I fell in the pond?”

  “Pond? What pond?” He waved a hand dismissively then, as if it didn’t matter. Which it didn’t.

  She sneezed. This was not the way she’d pictured their reunion. The kisses, and hugs, and declarations of love she’d expected were blatantly missing.

  “Too bad you didn’t come sooner,” Hauk said. “You missed the wedding yestereve.”

  “Wedding?” she said dumbly and just then noticed a very attractive, nobly-dressed redhead standing at the entrance to the keep, along with two young, dark-haired girls. Then she looked at Hauk. Was it possible? Had Hauk gotten over her so quickly? Had he wed one of those females standing there? Yes, the girls were young, but men of this time period tended to go for adolescent girls in order to ensure they were getting virgins. On the other hand, it might be the mother, or older woman, he’d wed, not that she was old old, probably thirty-something.

  Kirstin blinked away the tears that burned her eyes.

  “Hauk was magnificent,” Thorkel told her. “He said the words like he’d done weddings many times.”

  Kirstin gasped. It was true then. Hauk had married someone else.

  “You pig!” she said and ran away, back the way she’d just come. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! This was such a mistake. Can I go back? I have to go back. Oh, my God!”

  Hauk didn’t even follow after her.

  “I’ll show him,” she muttered. “I’ll go back and he’ll never see me again.” But halfway back to the mossy place, with the snow coming down more heavily, Kirstin sneezed, felt a cough tickle her throat, and shivered uncontrollably. Her cloak was back in the courtyard where Hauk had dropped it.

  “Maybe I could warm up a bit first,” she muttered to herself. But there was no way she was going back to face Hauk again, or to pass his bride. With that in mind, she headed around the side of the keep to
what was the rarely used front courtyard. By now, she was covered with an inch of snow, even her eyelashes, and the cold was marrow-deep. She pushed on one of the two doors and stepped into the hall where the three middle hearths were blazing…and almost fell over at the heat.

  But she didn’t want to stay here where one after the other men sitting at the tables, eating cold foods, drinking, or playing that board game hnefatafl, turned to stare at her. Instead, she ducked into the guest bedchamber where, to her surprise, Signe was smoothing out the bed furs.

  “Oh, my gods!” Signe exclaimed and rushed over to pull her into a hug. Immediately, Signe stepped back and observed her, “You’re cold as an icicle.”

  Kirstin nodded and with chattering teeth told her, “Got wet. Lost my cloak. Freeeezing.”

  “Here. Let me get this damp gown off, and you can snuggle under the furs.” Signe gave Kirstin’s white lace bra and white silk bikini underpants a sharp look before pulling a linen bed gunna over her head and bundling her onto one fur and under another and she smiled as she helped take off the athletic shoes that Kirstin had chosen in lieu of high heels or ballet slippers. Fortunately, Signe didn’t say anything, for now; Kirstin wasn’t up to explaining, not with Hauk’s betrayal occupying her mind. Signe also stared at the small flashlight that Kirstin had tucked in the center of her bra. She probably thought it was some kind of jewelry. “Thank you, Signe. Once I warm up, I’ll be out of here.” She sneezed once, twice, three times and wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. It was obvious that she had a cold coming on. No wonder, with her getting wet and with the chilly air.

  Signe frowned. “Why would you leave again?”

  “Are you kidding?” When Signe still looked confused, Kirstin explained, “The wedding? Does that ring any bells?”

  Signe brightened. “You heard about that? Oh, I wish you had been here. It was wonderful.” A dreamy expression covered her face, and Kirstin could swear there was a flush covering her face and neck…almost like…hmmm.

  “Seriously, Signe? It’s not like you to be so mean.”

  Signe put a hand to her chest, as if wounded. “Why is it mean to wish you had been here at my wedding?”

  “Your wedding?”

  “Who else’s?”

  “Hauk’s.”

  Signe burst out laughing. “Thorkel and I wed yestereve. Where did you get such a fool idea that it was Hauk?”

  Kirstin sat up. “Well, Hauk said it was too bad I’d missed the wedding, and he said it in a very snarky tone. Then Thorkel said that Hauk did a wonderful job saying the vows,”

  Signe sat on the side of the bed and took her cold hand in both of hers, rubbing it to get the circulation going. “Hauk said the vows, which we repeated. He performed the ceremony, Kirstin.”

  “Oh.”

  “Who did you think he wed, pray tell, so soon after your leaving?”

  Kirstin felt her face heat with embarrassment. “There were three women…well, a woman and two girls…standing outside, and…”

  “That was Jarl Ingolf’s wife and daughters. They are here as yule guests.”

  “Oh,” Kirstin said again.

  “Have you any idea how distraught Master Hauk was when you left him? Like a bear with a thorn in its paw, he was. Growling at one and all. In truth, I saw tears in his eyes that first night when he went looking for you.”

  Kirstin got tears in her eyes then, too. “I called him a pig.”

  “Who?”

  “Hauk.”

  “Ah. Do not fret. All men are pigs at one time or another. Promise him some good bedplay and all will be well.”

  If only it were that easy. Kirstin put a hand to her head and lay back down, pulling the top fur up to her chin. She pressed the fingertips of both hands to her forehead.

  “Are you all right?” Signe asked.

  “I have a headache. Feels like I have an axe in my head.” And I’m probably on my way to the flu.

  “I could look for some megrim powders for you.”

  “Actually, if you could get my cloak for me. It’s out in the back courtyard. I have some Tylenol pills there.”

  “Pills?”

  “Herbs.”

  Once Signe returned, dragging the heavy cloak, and raised her eyebrows at the vines which Thorkel had told Signe belonged to her “lady,” Kirstin told her, “I’ll explain later.” Meanwhile, she asked Signe to open the cloak and lay it over the bed. Kirstin made quick work of getting out the baggie of pills and took two Tylenol, without water. Luckily, they were coated and went down easily.

  Signe spread the cloak over the bottom of the bed and hung the gown from a wall peg, smoothing them both out so that they would dry as wrinkle-free as possible. “They’re beautiful, m’lady,” Signe said.

  “Thank you. Oh, I almost forgot. I have a gift for you.” Kirstin sat up and pulled the cloak closer, then unpinned one of the Ziplock bags that held toiletries…a brush, comb, compact, and what she was looking for…a small bottle of Chanel No. 5 perfume. “Sorry I didn’t wrap this.”

  Signe took the small glass bottle in her hand and stared, perplexed, not even sure how to open it. “Here. Come closer,” Kirstin told her. Then she showed her how to open the bottle carefully so as not to spill any of the precious liquid. “You only need a little. Wherever you like. But I prefer the wrists or neck.” She showed Signe how to do it with the glass stopper, and really only the tiniest dab was enough to fill the room with the floral scent.

  “Ooh,” Signe said with a sigh. “It smells like flowers.” She looked at Kirstin then. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll only use it on special occasions.”

  “Just be careful. Only a tiny bit goes a long way.”

  Signe nodded and asked, “Those silver loops…are they brooches?”

  At first, Kirstin didn’t understand. Then she laughed. “No, those are safety pins…fasteners. They’re not worth much, where I come from. Unlike brooches, which can be valuable. Here, I’ll show you how they work.”

  Signe was fascinated, and Kirstin gave her two, which could have been gold, by the expression on Signe’s face. Perfume and safety pins…wow!

  “Could you’d leave me for a little while, Signe?” Kirstin said then. “I need to rest until I get the chill off of me, and the pills take effect.” Kirstin was already regretting her failure to pack cold medicine.

  “Certainly. And thank you again, m’lady,” Signe said, sniffing at her wrist as she stood at the open door. “What should I tell Master Hauk, if he asks?”

  If he asks. Kirstin hesitated, then said, “Tell him I’m sorry.”

  Kirstin was lying corpse-straight under the furs, still chilled and still suffering a splitting headache when there was a knock on the door and Bjorn entered. “Am I bothering you?” he asked.

  “No, come in.” She sat, pulling the fur up over her chest.

  She could swear the boy had grown a few inches since she’d been gone, but then at his age, thirteen, boys tended to shoot up practically overnight. Her brothers sure had. And he was looking good, too, with his blond hair hanging in a long braid down his back. There was a peach fuzz on his cheeks that would soon turn into whiskers.

  “You came back,” he said bluntly.

  “Yes.”

  “I was angry at you for a long time,” he confided, shifting from foot to foot. “You shouldn’t have just left.”

  “I know, but I had no control over it. It just happened. By accident, sort of.”

  “Oh. We thought you didn’t care about us anymore and wanted to go home.”

  “Of course I care about you. You’re like…you’re like my son,” she told him, and that was the truth, although she hadn’t realized it until this moment.

  He nodded, as if he shared the feeling. Without invitation, he plopped down on the side of the mattress and began talking about Gisela, one of Jarl Ingolf’s daughters. He’d apparently developed a crush on her.

  “Can you pull my cloak up here? I have a gift for you,” she said with a lou
d sneeze. “This is the kind of shirt a guy your age and size would wear in my time.” She took out a rolled up piece of fabric and shook it out to reveal a long-sleeved, black Grateful Dead T-shirt. At the same time, she pulled out a travel pack of tissues. Another thing she should have packed…more tissues.

  His eyes went wide at first when he saw her gift, and then he laughed and pulled his tunic over his head and replaced it with the T-shirt. It was a perfect fit, maybe a little big, but that was okay.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. How do I look?”

  “Here. Use this,” she said and handed him the open compact.

  At first, he didn’t understand that it was a mirror, to reflect his image. When he did, he was more interested in how his face looked. He declined to take the shirt off when he left, carrying his tunic with him. He couldn’t wait to show Gisela. Kirstin had to insist he leave the mirror. She wished she had been able to bring him a pair of Nikes, which would have surely blown him away, but they would have been too heavy, on top of everything else she’d carted.

  No sooner did Bjorn leave than Egil popped in. “Well, well, well,” he said. “And how long are ye gonna stay this time?”

  “That depends on Hauk. He didn’t look pleased to see me.”

  “And why should he be? Ye nigh broke his heart.”

  “He told you that?”

  “Hah! ’Tis not the kind of thing a man confides to another man. Nay, I know because I saw the pain he was in. Sick he was. Heart sick. I tol’ Frida she should make him some chicken slop, but she didn’t know how.”

  “I was in pain, too, Egil. Absolute misery. Why do you think I came back?”

  He shrugged. “I do not know. I thought…we thought that ye decided to go back to yer jelly man.”

  “What? Who?”

  “The master tol’ me ’bout yer former mate, the jelly man.”

  “Oh, you mean JAM.” She recalled telling Hauk about him, when he’d asked if she had a man in the future. “Jacob Alvarez Mendoza, JAM, was never my mate. Just someone I…no, I didn’t go back to him. I mean I dated him once, but realized that we had no future.”