Page 114 of The Caged Viking

“I can’t believe you’re behaving so boarishly.”

“Boarish, am I? I thought you apologized for calling me a pig. Make up your mind, wench. A boar is a pig, in case you did not know.”

She barely suppressed a growl. “I take it back then. You are a pig. And you’re stubborn as a mule. Mean as a bear. Fickle as a bull. Horny as a jackrabbit. Vain as a peacock. Sneaky as a snake. And…and…” She had to stop for a moment because tears were beginning to well in her eyes.

Hauk was no longer smirking. His head was tilted to the side, studying her with confusion, or concern, or something. He put out a hand, about to touch her arm.

She slapped his hand away and might have said or done something more to show her opinion of his behavior, but she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Gorm standing there. The boy had washed his face and hands, probably on someone’s orders, but he’d only gone so far, leaving his arms and the outer edges of his face and all his neck a different, darker dirt color. He’d plaited his hair into two braids that lay forward over his shoulders toward his little chest, which was commendable, that he’d made such as effort at grooming, except one of them was a good four inches shorter than the other. He was wearing a reasonably clean tunic over slim braies, with a length of rope for a belt. He was barefooted, despite the cold weather, and his toenails looked as if they hadn’t been clipped in a very long time. A candy cane hung from the rope belt on the side, like a dagger. When he smiled tentatively, flashing those two empty spaces, his red tongue showed evidence of what he’d been eating, or overeating.

In other words, he was adorable.

“What is it, Gorm?” she asked.

He looked right and left, unsure of his welcome here on the dais, and Kirstin could see why. Hauk, Egil, and Bjorn had all moved around so they could see what he was about.

“Don’t worry about them. You can talk to me.”

“Frida said I should come thank ye fer all the candy crooks ye give me.”

“It was my pleasure, honey.” Kirstin glanced toward the tree and saw none in evidence. “And they’re candy canes, not candy crooks. Did you share them?”

He nodded. “Frida tol’ me to ask if ye have any more?”

That was clearly a fib, she saw as his expression perked up with hope.

“Nope,” she said. “I see you have one left, though.” She pointed to the one on his belt.

He nodded. “I’m savin’ it fer my birfday.”

“When is that?”

“I doan know…mayhap in the summer time.”

“You’re going to wait all those months?” she asked.

Hauk snorted his disbelief behind her, and Bjorn said something about how sticky his fingers would be by then.

“By the way, Gorm, how did your one braid get so much shorter than the other?” Kirstin asked

“Pff! Ye should ask! ’Twas Ubbi what did it. Three of his friends had to hold me down, though.” The latter was said with pride.

“What did ye do to cause Ubbi to go after ye?” Egil asked.

Gorm hesitated, probably trying to figure what answer would serve him best, but then he admitted, “I mighta poured blue woad dye on his ballocks when he was sleepin’.”

Kirstin put a hand over her mouth to smother a giggle. The others didn’t even bother to hide their appreciation of the boy’s mischief.

“Y’know, somethin’ jist occurred to me,” Egil remarked. “The bratling looks jist like ye, m’lord. I always disbelieved his mother’s claims, but could he be another of yer father’s get?”

“Who? Me?” Hauk scowled. “He doesn’t look at all like me.”

Kirstin wasn’t sure there was a resemblance, except for the grayish blue eyes, but she could see that Hauk was not pleased by the comparison; so, she said, “Spitting image!”

Hauk directed his scowl at her.

What else is new? Scowls ‘r Us.

“By thunder!” Bjorn said. “That would make the little guy my uncle.”