Page 16 of My Fair Viking

"Nay, I am not a spy, but I will mention yer idea to Tyra. Dost think yer recommendation will have influence with her?"

"About as much as your talking has on me."

Alrek beamed as if Adam had paid him a high compliment.

"As to what I was sayin' afore… do not be so hard on Rashid. Mostly, he sez nothin' of import. Jist things like 'Allah save me from pestsome gnats,' or 'You chatter more than a harem houri.' What is a whore-he? Is that a whore what is a man?"

Adam would have put his face in his hands if his hands were free. "Don't you have to go back and row some more?"

"Nay! I am done with that job fer the day. I am going to mend nets this afternoon."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! "With a needle?" He is going to turn those blistered palms into a war field.

Alrek nodded and stood.

Bless the saints! He is going to leave me alone.

"There is something I wanted to ask you."

I should have known. The boy is not leaving after all. Now he gets to the reason for his visit… what he has been leading up to all along. On the other hand, mayhap this is some form of Norse torture I have never heard of in all my living amongst Viking families. Torture-by-boy-with-blathering-tongue.

"How long were you an orphan? Rashid said you and yer sister were adopted by a Viking man and his wife. Do children ever get adopted when they are no longer… um, ah, children exactly?" The whole time Alrek sputtered and stammered to get his question out, he stood as tall as his spindly frame would stretch, with chin held high and face flaming with color… all this to demonstrate that he was not a child exactly.

After he killed Tyra, he was going to kill Rashid for getting him into this predicament.

"Alrek, do not waste your time dreaming impossible dreams. We were fortunate, Adela and I," he said, then had to pause after speaking his sister's name. Had he ever spoken her name aloud these past two years? When he was more calm, he continued, "It was just a chance circumstance that brought Selik and Rain to that place in Jorvik at the same time my sister and I were there. Most often, orphans are left to fend for themselves, as you do. And, really, 'tis not—"

"A miracle? It was like the miracles yer One-God promises in his Bible." Alrek was staring at him as if he'd just spoken some magic words. "So what I need is a miracle?"

"Nay, nay, nay! It was not a miracle."

"The only gods I know of are Odin and Thor and Frey and Loki. Perchance you could pray to yer One-God that he would send us a father and a mother… a family… you know, a miracle."

"Alrek! I am not praying. I do not believe in miracles. And I think I see Gorr the Netmaker motioning for you."

Alrek turned to look at Gorr, who was indeed scowling his way, no doubt because he would be saddled with the brat next. Alrek waved a hand at the netmaker, indicating he would be there shortly. But before he left, he smiled widely at Adam. "Thank you very much, Lord Adam."

Adam didn't even want to know what he was being thanked for. And what was this lord business? First he had to contend with Rashid referring to him as master, and now Alrek called him a bloody lord. Next he would be proclaimed king… when what he felt like at the moment was the lowest of animals for having inadvertently offered hope to the boy when the chances of his ever having a family were hopeless.

Adam didn't think his life could get any worse.

He was wrong.

Alrek offered him these departing words: "Methinks yer One-God sent you to me as a miracle."

Miracle of miracles, Alrek finally seemed to have mastered the rudiments of archery.

Oh, Tyra wasn't deluding herself. The boy could scarce lift the heavy bow, and everyone ducked when he did, but at least he'd hit the target. Off center, of course, but after two dozen tries, having hit it at all was a real accomplishment.

"Good job, Alrek," she complimented him with a pat on the shoulder.

The boy's face fair glowed with pride. You'd think she'd just laid a treasure chest at his feet… or granted his most fervent wish… a family, of all things… something he told everyone who chanced to cross his path.

She and her men were camped for the evening along the North Sea shore; tomorrow they would head north up through the fjords to her father's holdings. While their evening meal was being prepared—a freshly killed red deer roasting on an open spit—they were exercising in a clearing with sword and lance and bow, as was their daily practice.

"Betcha yer thinkin' it was a miracle… that I hit the target," Alrek said. He and Tyra were picking up arrows that lay about in the grass.

"I wouldn't exactly call it a miracle," she replied with a laugh. "Hard work always pays off in the end. Haven't I told you that afore, Alrek? You always want results immediately, but you must learn patience. Someday you are sure to be a good Viking warrior. Give it time."