Page 66 of The Viking’s Captive

Alrek wasn’t sure he’d heard right, so he withheld comment.

“I need your help, Alrek.”

Alrek sat up straighter.

“Can I trust you?”

“With me life.” Oh, this was the best day of Alrek’s life. To think his king was going to trust him with some special assignment. “Shall I tell the smithy to make me a sword? Even the lowest knight needs his own sword to slit his enemy’s gullet, or cut out his heart, or lop off his head. I do so want to lop off a head or two.”

“Uh, I do not think a sword will be necessary just yet,” the king said. A weak smile slashed his still ashen face. Mayhap the king was not as well yet as Adam had thought. “The task I would set for you requires a sharp mind, not a sharp blade.”

Alrek tried to look intelligent and alert, but he feared he just looked bug-eyed.

“Firstly, you must tell no one—no one—that I have awakened.”

He nodded his understanding.

“You must be my eyes and ears about the castle. Report everything to me, no matter how insignificant it might seem. Can you do that?”

“Yea, I can that. Am I to be yer spy, then?”

“Exactly.”

Alrek stepped off the bed and rose to his full height, which wasn’t all that much. A spy! I am to be a spy. Praise the Gods! ‘Tis just as Adam predicted back on the longship. Mayhap he made this miracle come true fer me. I should thank him, but nay, I cannot thank him properly because it is a secret. Still … me, a spy! Alrek wiped the smile of pure joy from his face and tried to appear somber and responsible. “I will not let ye down, Yer Highness. Even if they torture me with burning splinters. Even if they chop off me ear. Even if they shave me head. Even if—”

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Thorvald said with lips that twitched oddly, as if he were suppressing a smile.

“Now, Alrek, summon Rafn for me. Do not tell him I called for him, especially if others are about. Just say that you must go to the garderobe or some such thing, and that you hate to leave your king alone.”

Alrek kept nodding at each of the king’s orders.

“And remember, this is our secret.”

A hole in the head and a harem, too …

“It will be our secret,” Tykir assured the king.

Rafn had summoned him to the king’s bedchamber after spending some time there himself, asking if he would keep the sleeping king company whilst he prepared for the early morning patrol.

It appeared that the Stoneheim ruler had come out of his sleep state but wanted no one to know about it yet except Tykir, Thorvald always had been a wily man … and smart. Tykir was not about to question his motives.

“I want you to report back to me what you see around my keep,” the king said. “It is important that I know not just what is happening with my men-at-arms and the Stoneheim cotters, but with my daughters, as well.”

“Why not just ask them?”

“For shame, Tykir! Methought you knew better than that. Women never answer a question when it is put to them directly.”

“I suppose.”

“Now, what think you of a match betwixt my daughter Tyra and your nephew Adam?”

“ ‘Tis not for me to say, Thorvald. It’s what they want. I will say this: the sap of lust is running high in both of them.”

The king clapped his hands gleefully. “Perfect! Perfect! All according to plan.”

“What plan?” Tykir asked, wondering if the king had heard of the plan he and Rashid and Rafn and Bolthor had devised for Adam, but nay, that was impossible.

The king never answered him. Instead he ordered, “Send that rascal Rashid to me. Do not tell him I am awake. Just say it is his turn to sit a spell with the king.”