Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 04] by The Bewitched Viking

Author:The Bewitched Viking
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Her familiars are back in Britain,” Bolthor informed them. “They are sheep.”

“Do you say she has more than one familiar, and that they are sheep?” asked a powerfully built woman sitting at the high table. ’Twas Anlaf’s older sister, Gudny. “She must be a very powerful witch.”

“A spell she has put on my dog, Beast,” Rurik noted, despite Tykir’s warning that he hold his tongue. “Methinks she may have made Beast one of her familiars, too.”

Gudny seemed impressed, and was assessing Alinor through narrowed, speculative eyes. Everyone knew that Gudny, who was as tall as a man and as strong as a horse, had been searching for a love potion these many years in hopes of luring her wayward husband Alfrigg back to the bed furs. ’Twas said she had an insatiable appetite for swiving—though Tykir could hardly credit that, more like an insatiable appetite for eating—and Alfrigg had chosen instead to live amongst the monks on a leper island.

Throughout the great hall, a murmur of fear and outrage was passing in waves, emanating from the spot where Alinor still stood with Bolthor and Rurik. People who had been sitting closest stood and moved away, putting hands or arms over their faces so the witch could not give them the evil eye…and over their private parts, as well.

“Is she the witch who put the mark on your face?” one Norse maiden asked Rurik in an awestruck voice. Tykir couldn’t tell if the awe was for Rurik’s winsome face or the power of the witch.

“Nay,” Rurik answered, his interest caught by the maiden’s fair face and even fairer bosom. “’Twas another witch.”

“Another witch!” Anlaf roared. “Didst thou dare to bring two witches to my daughter’s wedding feast? Oh, holy Thor! Do we perchance have a coven in our midst?”

A number of the wedding guests could be seen ducking under the trestle tables at that alarming prospect.

Alinor had the nerve to snicker.

“Nay, I did not bring two witches,” Tykir said wearily. In truth, he wasn’t sure he’d even brought one. But that was not the issue. Nor one for him to decide. “Anlaf, you had a…problem,” Tykir began to explain in a deliberately patient voice, though he was losing his patience by the minute. “You sent a messenger asking for my help, and I agreed…to gain the release of Adam.”

“But I was never a hostage,” Adam interrupted. “I came to Trondelag several months past, planning to go home to Britain for a brief visit. Come spring, I will be returning to the Arab lands, where the study of medicine is more advanced than in any other part of the world. In the meantime, I decided to stay in Anlaf’s court for a few months in order to study with his healer, the good priest, Caedmon.” Adam’s eyes shifted involuntarily as he spoke to the far side of the hall, where Tykir saw Father Caedmon nod his head in agreement. But wait. Tykir thought he heard the slight tinkling of bells at that table.

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