Page 51 of The Viking’s Captive

“I swear, you Arab dunderhead, if you mention that subject in company again, I will do something to you which will require abstinence on your part for two years … or mayhap forever.”

Rashid winced, but not for long. “I know a perfect proverb that fits your situation. ‘The best thing about male chastity is that it doesn’t last long.’”

“This is the saga of Adam the Lesser, also known as Adam the Chaste,” began Bolthor.

Everyone laughed, except Adam, who groaned.

“Man was not made to be chaste,

Everyone knows it would be a great waste.

If the gods wanted a man to abstain,

Why give him a staff without a brain?

It hardens at a mere whiff Of a wench with a bare midriff.

And rises to a new high

When viewing a creamy thigh.

So when he gets a kiss,

It is in sheer bliss.

And when the sword finds its sheath,

What a heavenly relief!

So, who is the more intelligent being?

The man who wallows in virtuous self-pity?

Or the man who sheds his odious chastity?”

“The reason I think you need our expert advice is because you are making no progress with the Lady Tyra,” Tykir resumed, as if Bolthor had not just spouted one of his horrendous poems. Adam suspected that Tykir had been the brunt of so many of Bolthor’s sagas, they no longer fazed him.

Rafn raised a forefinger to get their attention. “Do not forget the kiss. Right here in the great hall, he kissed the lady. On the lips.”

“Are you drukkinn?” Tykir asked Rafn.

“Probably,” Rafn answered. “Are you?”

“Probably.”

“That was not really a kiss,” Adam protested. “‘Twas just a fleeting little brush of the lips. It does not count as a real kiss, to my mind.”

“Aaah, but you are forgetting the other kiss,” Rashid put in.

“The other kiss?” Tykir, Rafn, and Bolthor asked.

“Yea, Alrek told me all about it. ‘Twould seem that they indulged in more intense kissing on the well bench, and they were in a horizontal position, if you get my meaning.”

Adam wished they would all stop talking over him as if he were not there.

“But kissing, nephew? Is that as far as you’ve progressed? Tsk-tsk! You seem to have lost your knack, my boy.”

“Actually, I wrote a saga once about a Viking man who had lost his knack. I misremember which Norseman it was about. Oh, now I recall,” Bolthor mused, then looked directly at Tykir.