The Bewitched Viking by Sandra Hill

Author:Sandra Hill [Hill, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-08-21T00:33:59+00:00

"Once crooked was the king's wick

After a witch caught him playing

With fire in a nunnery.

Now the candle dost burn again.

But for how long?

If the witch remains,

Will Trondelag become

The land of the crooked tapers?"

Tykir and Anlaf both made growling sounds at the same time.

"You played me for the fool, Anlaf. No man does that without consequence, not even a king."

"I did not," Anlaf protested. "I did have a crooked cock. I have witnesses to that, and the dire pain I suffered, not to mention the lack of bedsport for three whole months. But now it is hale and hearty. Dost thou want to look at it again?"

"Nay! I do not want to look at your hairy manroot."

"Hairy? Didst see hairs there? Oh, this is too much!" He turned to glare at Alinor. "Didst put a hair curse on me now, witch?"

Tykir had to smile at that idiocy.

Alinor was shaking her head from side to side, murmuring, "Vikings! Dimwits, one and all!"

"At least mine is not hairy," Tykir informed her with a grin.

"How do you know? Have you checked lately? Mayhap I put a hair curse on you, too."

"Sarcasm ill-suits you, my lady." Bile rose in his throat, even though he knew she was just teasing. Leastways, he hoped she was. He barely stifled the impulse to rush to the privy and check for certain.

Adam was laughing so hard that tears rolled down his face.

"I'm in a generous mood today, Tykir. I might have played a small part in this misunderstanding, that I concede. I'll gift you Fierce One and Samirah, after all, for your trouble," Anlaf conceded. "A horse and a wench. What more could you want?"

"I'll tell you what else I want. I want an apology. I want recompense for my trouble. I want to leave this castle today. I want you to provide safe conduct for the Lady Alinor back to her home in Northumbria."

"You want much for a mere misunderstanding," Anlaf sputtered. "None of my ships leave for Britain for another three or four months. I cannot harbor a witch in my castle all that time. My troops would rebel. My wives and concubines would avoid my bed furs. Who knows what calamities would befall my household. You take her."

"Me? Oh, nay, do not try that trick with me. She stays with you till you return her to her homeland."

The abject horror on Anlaf's face was almost comical when it was considered that the king had faced down legions of fierce soldiers in battle with less fear than he exhibited now. Apparently the loss of one's manpart was more fear-inspiring than the loss of one's life. Anlaf's protests echoed throughout the great hall, where others insisted that the witch could not stay.

"Stone the witch," one man suggested.

"Burn her at the stake," another urged.

"Let us torture her secrets out of her first," Gudny exhorted.

"Does she dance naked in the forest? Mayhap we could watch her dance naked first," one young soldier proposed. " 'Twould be good entertainment for a wedding feast.

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