He managed to dodge or block most of her missiles, except for the ground salt, which ended up showering him with grayish-brown crystals. It went well with the few splatters of porridge on his cheek. He looked comical, but she was too furious to appreciate that. It was his expression, so incredulous over what she had done. He thought her mad.
He said as much, yelled it, actually. “You are mad, woman!”
“Am I?” she yelled back.
She was looking around for something else to throw. He vaulted over the table before she found it and started shaking her. Some of the salt fell from his shoulders with his movements, but most of it was still clinging to him from head to toe.
A low rumble sounded near them. “No shaking.”
They both turned to see Turgeis standing there, arms crossed, fully prepared to intervene. His expression was deadly serious.
Selig demanded of him, “Do you see what she has done to me?”
Turgeis couldn’t miss it, but still he maintained, “No shaking.”
Selig growled in exasperation, but he nonetheless dropped his hands from Erika. She swung at him when he did, but only managed to connect with his upper arm. No damage to him, but more salt fell.
“What in the name of all the gods has got into you, wench?” Selig roared.
“You are a liar, Viking!” she told him. “A despicable liar. And a lecher. You should be fourscore years to be such a lecher as you are.”
He didn’t know what he might have lied about, but lecher was clear enough, and he was incredulous again. “You are jealous?”
“I am disgusted,” she corrected him.
“Youarejealous,” he insisted, and suddenly he was grinning.
She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I care not how many women you service, but you will not include me in their number and then goback to them. That is not jealousy. That is what I will not tolerate as your wife.”
Had she been thinking clearly, she would have known she was overstepping her bounds. A wife did not dictate; a wife was dictated to. But Selig happened to come from a family whose women were notorious dictators. He wasn’t offended or even angry at her display of fury. He was, in fact, delighted that she was demanding her rights, because of the reason she was doing so. She was jealous.
He was still grinning. He couldn’t help it. “Since you are not jealous, but only disgusted, might I ask what brought about your…disgust?”
“So you would play the simpleton as well as the jester? I am not blind!”
“Ah, her.”
“Aye,her. And as long as she resides under this roof, I will reside under my brother’s.”
“Nay, that is not an option.”
“Then get rid of her!”
As it happened, Selig had already decided to do just that. Lida was a definite nuisance in that she refused to accept rejection. But now he pretended to consider the matter for the first time.
“That is not a bad idea. I will ask my men if one would like to take Lida to wife.” Then he reconsidered. “Nay, she was expensive. I doubt one of them would be willing to pay her price.”
“Then lower her price.”
He thought his wife mad again, or so his look said. “And take a loss, just because you are jealous?”
“I…am…not—!”
“I will pay it.”
This came from Ivarr. He was trying not to laugh, he really was. The rest of the crowd that had gathered with him wasn’t nearly as tactful. Smiles, chuckles, guffaws, backslapping. Thorolf was sitting down on the floor, he was laughing so hard.
Erika wasn’t amused. She might have gotten what she wanted, exactly what she wanted, but it had come one day too late, as far as she was concerned. Already proven was that her husband would never be faithful. He found the very subject laughable. But she didn’t.
