Page 65 of The Viking’s Captive

Just then the line of troops parted and Tyra rode forward through the ranks. Tears of relief misted his eyes.

I should not care so much,he told himself. Then, Thank you, God.

When she started to dismount, her knees gave way—no doubt from the exhaustion of the long day—but he was there to catch her in his arms.

“Are you all right?” he whispered against her ear, still holding her upright in his arms. “Have you been hurt?”

She shook her head slowly from side to side, dazed.

“You will never do this to me again, that I swear.”

“Do what?” She cocked her head with confusion.

“Leave me behind to worry, like a … like a …”

“Husband?” Tykir offered with a laugh as he rode his horse up next to them.

Adam knew he was acting foolishly, but his emotions were roiling out of control. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he told Tyra, “We will discuss this later,” and went off to join Father Efrid, who was already examining the wounded.

Almost immediately, he turned around, came back, and kissed her soundly on the lips. Then he was off again.

“Has he lost his mind?” he heard Tyra ask Tykir.

“Undoubtedly,” Tykir said. “Either that, or his heart.”

James Bond, he was not …

Even though it was not quite dawn, Alrek was humming a bawdy tune he’d heard some drukkinn soldiers sing one night. He was in the process of carrying a bucket of fresh drinking water into King Thorvald’s bedchamber.

“Good day to you, boy,” a rumbly voice said.

Alrek almost wet his braies, so frighted was he. Setting the bucket down on a bench, he glanced right and left, searching the room. He was the only person about, aside from the king, who was still in a deep sleep from his head wound.

Tentatively, he approached the bed.

The king’s eyes shot wide open, and he winked at Alrek.

Alrek nigh jumped out of his skin.

“Yer highness!” he exclaimed. “Let me go call yer daughters and the physician. Thanks be to Odin, ye are back from the dead.”

The king raised a halting hand. “Nay, I want no one to know that I am awake. Come here, boy, and help me.”

When Alrek was next to the bed, the king threw the linens back, exposing a trencher made of manchet bread. On it sat two roast chicken legs, several hunks of hard cheese, and some slices of pickled reindeer tongue. Held between his knees was a huge wooden goblet of ale. “Are you as hungry as I am, Alrek?”

Alrek nodded. He was always hungry.

So at the king’s bidding, Alrek locked the bedchamber door, then crawled up onto the bed with his king, and they both broke their fast together.

While they ate, the king remarked, “I owe you a coin about now, do I not, boy?”

He shook his head. “Yer daughter Tyra paid me. She denied it, but methinks Adam the Healer reminded her to pay me in yer stead. He is a good fellow, Adam is. Me hero, actually.”

The king nodded, even as he chomped away on the ample, tasty fare. “That Ingrith of mine is a mighty fine cook. It will be a sad day when she weds and leaves Stoneheim … not that that will be happening anytime soon, the way Tyra dawdles in the marriage market. But that is going to change, if I have my way.” The king was speaking more to himself than Alrek, who was too stunned by his circumstances to speak anyhow.

“So, Alrek, tell me everything that has been going on in my castle.”

And Alrek did, leaving nothing out. The king was especially engrossed by the events surrounding Tyra and Adam, but he was also more than interested in the outlaws who’d attacked his holdings the night before. Alrek thought he heard the king mumble, “Rafn did not tell of this yet. Where is the man? Has he become a slugabed now?”