Page 3 of The Caged Viking

“You are not to worry,” Emma had assured him. “I will handle everything.” On those unpromising words, the queen had sashayed back to her husband and the other royal folk.

So now, he relied more on Egil for his escape. And there the fool stood now, blathering to the fool maid. Hauk made a hissing sound, and Egil approached the cage.

“Best you give me a knife, Egil. In the event of attack, Aethelred or one of his cohorts might decide to kill me and hide the evidence of their vileness.”

“Nay. Not yet. ’Tis I whose throat will be slit if they suspect my complicity and then where would ye be?”

“Where I’ve been for the past six months and more.”

“When news comes of Sweyn’s landing on Saxon soil, I’ll release you. You’ll have all the weapons you need then.”

Hauk glared at his comrade-in-arms, not pleased to have his orders questioned.

“In the meantime,” Egil went on, sensing Hauk’s displeasure, “I’ll arrange horses to carry us away from Winchester, and you can make plans for where ye want to meet up with the armies. We could go north to London or to Jorvik, where your longship Sea Wolf is still docked, and where Sweyn will no doubt land his ships. Or south to Plymouth or Southampton where Duke Richard’s army will cross the Channel.”

“Just how soon do you expect this to happen?” Hauk barely restrained himself from reaching through the bars and throttling the old man.

“Soon. Soon.”

“That’s what you said a sennight ago.”

“Now, do not be getting yer bowels in an uproar, milord.”

Hauk was no more a lord than Egil. A karl, or chieftain of his small holdings, yes. A low-level jarl in some circles, by reason of his ancestry. But by no means a high-placed noble. Nor did he want to be. And Egil knew it, too. He used the form of address to annoy him.

“As ye well know, milord, patience is a virtue recommended by the gods.”

“Patience!” Hauk snarled. Then, noticing several housecarls glancing their way, he lowered his voice. “I need to kill someone, Egil, and best you be careful it is not you.”

Hauk felt impotent in his inability to escape on his own. He hated having to rely on others, especially when those others were a self-loving, thirteen-year-old queen and a scrawny, overaged, lackwit Viking with a sudden penchant for wielding power over his master.

Thor’s Balls! I need a different kind of champion to rescue me.

“With luck, ye will be home in Hordaland by late summer,” Egil had assured him.

“Luck, fuck!” Hauk had muttered.

“Leave everything to me,” Egil concluded airily as he walked away toward the girling who still stood gawping at him.

Hauk stuck out his tongue at her, an immature act which he found oddly satisfying.

The impudent wench stuck her tongue back out at him.

He had to laugh.

Alone again, Hauk mused over Egil’s words. He cared not about a return to his home. In fact, he could not foresee any life beyond the personal revenge he needed to fulfill. After that, he would willingly join his son in Valhalla.

Ah, Bjorn! I did love you. I did! He blinked against the sudden burning in his eyes, and a single tear slid down his grimy face.

Chapter 2

Blue Dragon Vineyard, Northern California, 2019

Tears of a Viking…

The Viking came to her again that night.

And Dr. Kirsten Magnusson was not a happy camper…rather, sleeper.