Page 89 of The Caged Viking

It was…wet dog.

Her eyes shot open and she saw Loki and Baldr, her father’s golden retrievers, whose damp fur was evidence of a recent dip in the pond. Which she could see over their backs. Their lolling tongues and wagging tails spoke of their happiness to see her. The dogs started to bark, loudly and continuously, ran away, continuing to bark as they ran, then came barreling back to her, yipping as if to give her some message. They ran away again and returned with her father, who was stunned at first sight of her.

Her father was almost sixty years old, and he wore his usual jeans and Blue Dragon T-shirt, but he could have passed for a Viking anywhere. With his long, gray-threaded, brown hair hanging in war braids on either side of a Nordic sculpted face, not to mention a tall, still buff body, he looked like an older version of the actor playing Rollo on that History Channel’s Vikings series, which made her realize that if her father had been the one shot back in time, he would fit in the Nordic atmosphere perfectly, almost as if he’d never left twenty years ago.

“Sit!” her father ordered the two yapping pets, who did as he ordered, immediately, though they continued to bark. “And shut the bloody hell up!”

Whimpering to get the last “word” in, Loki and Baldr splatted out, putting their faces on their front paws, looking at him contritely.

“Dumb dogs,” her father muttered, then turned to her again. “Holy Thor! Is it really you, Kirstin? We have been so worried.”

By now, she was standing, equally stunned. When her father opened his arms to her, she rushed into his embrace. He held her tightly and asked one question after another, not waiting for a reply.

“Where have you been, sweetling?

“Are you all right?

“Did you go back in time?

“Of course you did.

“The Viking in a cage…was he there? Did you rescue him?

“Torolf wanted to travel back to help you, if he could, but Helga said it would be over her dead body.

“Did you go back to our homestead, by any chance?

“But all these questions can wait. Come, let’s go up to the house.”

Her father pulled back to look at her then. That’s when she burst out in sobs, crying, knowing that her heart was breaking. Yes, she’d managed to come back home, but that meant she would never see Hauk again.

They said that love transcends time. It appeared she would have a chance to test that theory.

Chapter 20

Heartbreak Hotel, or Heartbreak House…um, Longhouse…

Kirstin was not with Egil when he returned the next day.

Egil told Hauk that he hadn’t seen his wife since she’d disembarked from his boat here at Haukshire a sennight or so ago, carrying her stolen necklet and arm rings, along with a sack of Hauk’s purloined treasures. Hauk told Egil not to discuss Kirstin’s whereabouts with anyone or add to the speculation. Let them think she’d left Hauk by going to Hedeby and probably to her own land beyond that. Otherwise, Hauk would have to explain time travel, or try to.

Egil nodded and squeezed Hauk’s arm in sympathy.

The tiny thread of hope that Hauk had been holding onto snapped, and he had to accept that his wife had time-traveled, away from him.

The only good news Egil had to impart was that Zoya was also gone, finally and forever, now in the hands of her brother. The Hedeby samovar merchant, who was not happy with his sister, would undoubtedly make her life miserable, or more likely, she would make his life miserable.

As the days and then sennights went by, Hauk became more and more woeful. Drinking to the point of drukkinness was not helping. To his shame, he realized he had been hoping she would return, magically, but time and her continuing absence convinced him otherwise. After that, fury filled Hauk, that his wife had deserted him, even though she’d promised she would not leave, leastways not without warning him first. Pfff! He felt like a fool. A cripple. Less than a man.

Women! Who can trust them?

The skalds would probably be telling tales of his humiliation, along with all those sagas about a caged Viking. He did not care.

He wished he could say he hated her now, but he didn’t. In fact, in his more sane moments, he knew she was better off, safer, in those later times, under her father’s protection. But in his less sane moments, which was most of the time, he was filled with a boiling rage. And, unfortunately, it spilled over to everyone who gave the least offense. He’d noticed how many people avoided him of late, even Egil, who approached him last night. “It’s been almost three months now. How long are ye goin’ to have this burr up your arse?”

“As long as it takes,” Hauk had snarled.

Other than Kirstin’s betrayal, and that’s how he regarded her departure, he had many reasons to be happy, or at least gratified these days. Thanks to additional hunting, fishing, and birding expeditions, more than enough provender had been stowed in the cold cellars, the storage rooms, and the barns, even if the gods should give them the harshest weather ever. Egil had brought back a bull and another milk cow, six dozen chickens, and two of the most vicious goats, all of which provided even more sustenance for the winter which was already upon them. In fact, snow flurries were coming down now, and he expected the ground would be at least knee-high by the morning. He stomped his boots at the entrance to the kitchen, he stiffened when Frida called out, “Ye do know that the yule season is almost upon us?”