by Sandra Hill
"I know you suffer from your brother's death, but I envy the love that you two shared whilst together. It was special and rare—something to be cherished. I have never experienced that kind of love—any kind really—and suspect I never will. I know, I know," she said with a laugh; "you are thinking that I never will because I will be dead. Well, some things are worth dying for. You are willing to die for your brother's honor. I am willing to die to regain my home.
"Bolthor told the most awful saga afore they left for Winchester. It was about Alinor having a tail and her teasing a Viking named Rurik. I thought Alinor would wring his neck, but the men all laughed uproariously.
"I wager that Bolthor would love to tell some outrageous saga about this event," she said, indicating his bonds and nakedness. "Not that he will ever hear about it, but, Blessed Lord, it would probably have some such atrocious title as 'How the Cock Got His Feathers Plucked,' or 'She Had Her Way With Him.' Ha ha ha.
"Oh, well, if you are not going to talk to me, I might as well return to the keep."
She was about to put his gag back on when he said, "Esme…"
"What?" she asked hopefully.
"I am going to kill you."
It seemed like a good idea at the time …
The next morning, Esme was in the kitchen with Eadyth, Alinor and the twins, Sarah and Sigrud, making plans for a huge yuletide feast to be held at Ravenshire.
Eadyth and Alinor were in especially high spirits because the streak of bad weather had finally broken, and the sun shone warmly outside, melting the snow and ice. For a certainty, their husbands would return within the next few days.
Which brought Esme even more distress. How much longer could she hold Toste against his will without anyone finding out? And if he didn't agree to her demands, what then?
"Dost think Toste will return in time for the feast?" Sarah asked shyly.
Her sister Sigrud nudged her with an elbow. "We only wondered because he loves to dance and surely there will be dancing at the feast."
Eadyth smiled at the two blushing girls, who were quite attractive with the silver-blond hair and violet eyes of their mother.
"I'm sure he'll be back by then," Alinor interjected. "And, yea, Toste and Vagn were always expert dancers, as I recall."
"Toste is a little old for you girls," Eadyth said gently.
"Moth-er!" the twins exclaimed as one.
After the twins left to search their wardrobes for garments fine enough to wear to the feast, Esme still sat at the table with the two women, who regaled her with stories.
"I cannot believe some of the outrageous things we did as young women," Alinor began. "One time, when Tykir and his men kidnapped me to take me back to King Anlafs court, I put a potion in his ale. Blessed Lord, he spent two whole days in the garderobe for my misdeed."
"Well, I pretended to be an aged crone for the first few months of my marriage to Eirik. How outrageous is that?"
"I can beat that. There was the time I tied Tykir's hair to a chair so he could not chase after me when I ran away. He was naked at the time, of course." Alinor grinned impishly at the memory.
"I think the most outrageous thing I ever did was planning my own mock death. I put all these animal bones and entrails in a shed, hoping that Eirik would think it was me."
Esme was amazed that these women admitted—nay, took great pleasure in—their outrageous antics. It was probably why she blurted out, "Well, none of that is as outrageous as what I have done."
She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Eadyth and Alinor were staring at her with decided interest.
"What have you done, Esme?" Eadyth asked softly.
"Oh, I cannot say. You would think me the most evil woman on earth. You would hate me. You would be so shocked. You would banish me from Ravenshire forthwith."
"Esme, my dear, there is nothing you can say that would shock us. Believe you me, we have seen and done it all." Alinor's freckled hand patted Esme's pale white one in comfort.
Esme was not comforted. "You are wrong. You would be shocked."
"The reason for your nervousness these past few days—it is not because you worry over the Witan's verdict, is it?" Eadyth asked hesitantly.
"I worry over that, of course, but it is not my biggest concern. I am in such trouble."
"What have you done?" Alinor demanded to know.
"I kidnapped Toste and have him tied to a bed in the woodcutter's hut, naked," she blurted out all in one breath. Surprisingly, it felt good to finally unburden herself of this secret.
And Alinor had been wrong. They could be shocked, as evidenced by their gaping jaws.
"Now? He's in the woodcutter's hut now?" Eadyth finally managed to choke out.
"Naked? Tied to a bed?" Alinor added, also in a choked voice.
Esme nodded. "But I can't release him till he agrees to my proposal."
"A marriage proposal?" Alinor beamed at her.
"Nay, not a marriage proposal. God's bones! Why would I want to marry the lout?"
Alinor and Eadyth grinned at her vehement reply. Then Alinor said, "Tell us everything," and Eadyth concurred with, "Yea, everything."
After she'd explained everything to them, the two women just stared at her with astonishment. At first, Esme didn't know how they felt about her outrageous actions. But then Eadyth whooped and patted her on the back. "I said from the beginning that you and I were going to get on well."
"Yea, you are a woman after my own heart." Alinor gave her a warm hug. "You saw a need in your life and took matters into your own hands. Who can argue with that?"
"Well, Toste, for one. And probably your husbands."
"Men!" Alinor exclaimed as if their opinion was of little importance.
"Show us," Eadyth said then.
"Yea, you must show us Toste so that we can help you," Alinor added.
Esme wasn't sure anyone could help her at this point, but she was happy to have two cohorts. Well, if not exactly cohorts, then confidantes.
Soon the three of them arrived at the woodcutter's hut. Toste turned to look at her when she entered, then went wide-eyed with surprise, and indignation on seeing the two women who followed her. At least his body was covered decently. She'd spared him that indignity. She went to him and removed his gag.
Eadyth and Alinor were trying not to show their shock or amusement, but Alinor made the mistake of giggling.
"Are you three dimwits here to release me?" he asked icily.
"Well, nay," Eadyth said.
" 'Tis Esme's decision," Alinor said.
"Not yet," Esme said.
"Then leave," he ordered. "Now."
"I just wanted to say—"
"Begone!" he roared.
Eadyth and Alinor scurried out of the hut, laughing loudly enough for Toste to hear.
As Esme raised the gag, about to put it back on his mouth, he told her, "I am going to kill you, Esme. And I am going to take great joy in the act. But death will be the easy part. It is what will come before that will be long and, let us say, difficult. You would not credit my vast imagination for torture."
Welcome, home, baby… boy, have I got news…
Eirik, Tykir and Bolthor returned the next day, their voices booming with good cheer. The yuletide season was almost upon them. There would be guests aplenty at Ravenshire within a sennight, it turned out. And though the news from the Witan was not wonderful, it was not bad either.
Tykir took one look at his wife, Alinor, from whom he'd been rarely separated these ten years of their marriage, winked at her, then picked her up with a gleeful laugh and carried her off to their bedchamber for a real welcome. Eirik looked at Eadyth, and though normally not as playful as his younger brother, picked her up and did the same. Those left behind in the great hall just shook their heads at the brothers' besotted behavior.
An hour later, Eadyth lay in her husband's arms, both of them naked and sated, listening while he told of the Witan's decision, or lack of a d
ecision.
"Lord Blackthorne and his sons were there as we expected," he told her. "A more scurrilous bunch I have never met. And the lies they told."
"King Edgar… and the ealdormen of the Witan… did not accept his stories?" Eadyth asked running her fingers through the thick hair on his chest. Almost fifty years old, her husband was still a devastatingly handsome man. And he could still thrill her in the bed furs.
"Keep looking at me like that and I will not be able to answer," he said with a chuckle, not at all displeased. "The king ever was Blackthorne's bosom friend. Well, actually, 'tis Blackthorne's son who is his comrade. But some on the council were swayed by Archbishop Dunstan, who counseled treading carefully. Dunstan is not one to be bullied… by anyone."
"Dunstan! He was there?" Everyone knew that Dunstan had been the power behind the throne ever since he'd been called from exile three years earlier. "That wily weasel in monk's garb!"
"That wily weasel in monk's garb will be coming to our yuletide festivities, along with a whole contingent of Saxon nobles. They claim to want a personal audience with Lady Esme, but methinks they just want to lie about swilling your famous mead."
"Here?" Eadyth shrieked. "They are coming here. Oh, Esme will die. And, Toste… oh, good Lord, Toste!"
"Interesting that you should mention Toste. I spoke with a priest who came from the minster in Jorvik, and he said Sister Margaret arrived there with one of our stableboys, not Toste. And no one has seen him anywhere."
"Ummm… Eirik, there is something I must tell you."
He sat up abruptly, alert to his wife's nuances. "What are you up to now?" He knew her so well.
"It is not me who is up to something. It is Esme."
"Esme?" He shook his head like a shaggy dog. "Why must you always confuse me? Speak plainly."
"Toste. Kidnapped by Esme. Woodcutter's hut. Tied to bed. Naked."
Within seconds, Eirik was pulling on his braies, laughing heartily. "I cannot wait to see this. Finally the rogue has met his match."
Laughing his arse off...
In another bedchamber several doors away, Alinor was sitting atop her husband's stomach. Naked, the way he liked her.
Tykir was splayed out, arms and legs extended, panting for breath. Sated well and good, the way she liked him.
"Tykir, heartling, there is something I must tell you."
His eyes cracked open a bit. "Uh-oh. I suspect trouble is on the way, especially when you call me heartling whilst sitting on my limp cock."
"Tsk tsk tsk!" she chided him. " 'Tis about Toste."
"I already know about Toste. Gone missing, he is." He proceeded to tell her about meeting the priest from the Jorvik minster.
"Not missing, precisely," she told him. "Actually, he is here at Ravenshire. Never left."
"Really?" He frowned. "I did not see him when we arrived."
"Well, he could not come to the hall."
"Because?" he prodded her.
"He is tied to a bed in the woodcutter's hut, naked," she said in a breathy rush.
"Stop talking in riddles. Who did this to him?"
"Esme."
Tykir gaped at her for only a moment, then burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that his manpart jiggled inside her woman-place, which caused her woman-place to clasp and unclasp him, which caused him to make love to her another time, the whole time laughing. Once they were both fully dressed and preparing to leave the bedchamber, Tykir said, "I cannot wait to see this." He was still laughing.
Out in the hallway, he met up with Eirik and Eadyth. Eirik was laughing, too. Downstairs, they told the story to Bolthor, who started laughing, too.
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.
Tied him to a bed,
bent him to her will,
with a smile and a wink.
But how did a Viking
get himself in this position?
Methinks he was thinking
not with his head brain,
but with his "other" brain.
That is the downfall
of many a Viking."
"Good poem!" Alinor said.
"So, how are things going, Toste?" Eirik asked, sitting at the bottom of the bed. "Anything new happen whilst we've been gone?"
"Dost think we can play this game when we get back to the keep?" Alinor asked Tykir.
"We've already played this game afore," Tykir reminded her.
Alinor didn't even blush as she replied, "Oh, that is right. Now I recall."
"Sarah and Sigrud would like for you to dance with them at the yule feast, Toste. Dost think you will be up by then?" Eadyth inquired sweetly as she batted her lashes at him.
"He is too old for the girls," Eirik tol
d his wife.
"That is what I told them," Eadyth said.
"Does anyone want to hear another saga?" Bolthor asked
"No!" they all exclaimed.
"Do not dare to go through that door," Toste ordered as he saw Esme edging toward escape. "Bolthor, block her way."
Of Eirik he demanded, "Cut my ties."
When he was standing free, uncaring of his nudity, he ordered all of them, "Out! Except for you, Esme. You will stay."
"Now, Toste, do not be too hard on her—" Eadyth began.
"You will not interfere in this, Eadyth," he told her. "Nor you, Alinor. This is betwixt me and her. Begone!"
Both Eirik and Tykir led their protesting wives away, and Bolthor followed, chuckling and no doubt composing a dozen verse poems, all at Toste's expense.
Within seconds, he was alone with Esme in the hut.
He could have put his braies on at this point. He should have put them on. He did not. He wanted to intimidate her with his nudity, or anything else, for that matter.
To give her credit, she did not cower in fright. Instead, she raised her chin defiantly, ready to take whatever punishment he would deliver. She was either very brave or very dumb.
He moved toward her.
She sidled away from the door, closer to the fire.
He leaned back against the door, folded his arms over his chest and crossed his ankles. Then he just stared at her.
She did her best to look back at him, but only above the waist.
What to do with the wench? Well, actually, he had ideas aplenty. The question more accurately was: What to do with her first?
"Take off your clothes, Esme," he said so softly that the ice in his voice could barely be discerned.
"What?" she squawked.
"You heard me. Take off your clothes. I would even the battlefield here—for the first time in ten days, I might point out."
"You can kill me with my clothes on," the obstinate witch said. "I do not mind if you bloody my gunna."
"Take… off… the… damn… clothes."
"You don't have to yell," she muttered as she began to disrobe.
Yell? The gall of the woman. He would say she had a death wish if she hadn't depleted her lifetime supply of death wishes by her vile treatment of him these past ten days.