Page 4 of My Fair Viking

"Hmph! Man was not intended to live this way. Truly, I do not understand how you can be content to live as a… a… hermit. 'Tis unnatural."

"No harems," Adam repeated.

Rashid muttered one of his usual proverbs, in this case, "Even paradise is no fun without people." With a grunt of disgust, he gave up, for the moment, and returned to his work.

Adam, on the other hand, stared off into space, realizing with some amazement that he actually was a contented man, just as his faithful assistant had inferred. That realization came to him with such suddenness that Adam, rather stunned, set his quill down and smiled to himself. Despite all the misery and grief—and, yes, self-pity—peace had somehow crept up on him. Mayhap his inner wounds were finally healing.

But wasn't that an irony in itself… that a man who had been renowned for his adventuresome spirit, wicked sense of humor, and wanton ways now took great comfort in contentment? It was a graybeard's word. Next he would be calling for a hot posset and a cane.

Before he had a chance to catch himself, Adam sighed aloud.

"There are harems, and then there are harems," offered Rashid, misinterpreting Adam's sigh. "I'm especially fond of women who can dance the Ritual of the Veils. Or those who are double-jointed. Or those with an ample set of buttocks. Or those with breasts like pomegranates. Or those—"

"Pfff!" was Adam's only response.

Rashid's biggest complaint about the Saxon lands was its dearth of women… especially talented women. He was of the firm conviction that the answer to any male difficulty could be found between the thighs of a comely woman, with or without talents, and he did not mind sharing that conviction with one and all. 'Twas best to ignore him betimes.

Adam picked his quill up, dipped it in the ink pot's treacly encaustum, and resumed scratching on the parchment pages of his herb journal. In some ways, this two-year respite from medical practice had helped Adam become a better doctor. He was assimilating all his thoughts and research from the past ten years or more and putting them on parchment.

Some physicians studied the human body, head to toe. Others believed in the theory of humors… that everything that happened to the body was related to bile, blood, phlegm, or water. Adam had come to believe that there was much more he did not know about the body than what he did know, so he limited his studies to herbs and their medicinal uses. Even then, it was complicated. The same plants grown in different geographical areas displayed different properties. The time of year an herb was picked could be important. And, of course, the roots, seeds, leaves, spores, pollen, and flowers all served different purposes… not to mention how they were preserved or prepared.

Rashid continued to fill small pottery containers with propolis, the reddish resin produced by honeybees. Adam's stepaunt by marriage, Eadyth, one of England's most famous beekeepers, had sent him a goodly supply last sennight. He used the base substance as a balm in treating wounds, while scenting the rest with lavender, rose, and sandalwood for gifting on occasion to his women friends. It was an excellent unguent for softening hands and other body parts. Not that he had all that many women friends of late. Adam also used honey as a dressing for wounds or, mixed with salt, as a cleansing agent.

He and Rashid worked in companionable silence in the round tower room overlooking the courtyard. Its eighteen arrow slit windows gave more light for his studies than any other chamber in this dreary keep. While many men measured their wealth in gold and land, Adam prized the rare books that filled a shelf on the far wall. An amazing six in all Few kings had as many. They were worth a fortune. Bald's Leechbook; Pliny the Elder's Natural History; Hippocrates's medical observations; the works of Galen, surgeon to the Roman gladiators; the notebooks of the revered Arab doctor, Rhazes; and, of course, his stepmother Rain's journal.

The books had been translated from their original languages into English, most often by monks, but ofttimes by Adam himself, who was fluent in five tongues. Of course, he hadn't translated Rain's journal—the one he consulted most—because it had been in English to begin with.

There was valuable information in all the books, but much to be scoffed at as well, such as Pliny's advice to eat a mouse a day to prevent tooth decay.

"If this lowly servant could be so bold," Rashid said, breaking the silence, "a harem could be just the spark you need to fire up your life again."

By the rood! Is Rashid still on that selfsame subject? "A harem? A harem in Saxon lands? I'd like to see that. Better yet, my dour-faced neighbors, far distant as they are, would love to see it."

"You could start a trend. Lucky for you, I know just where to gather a harem."

"I'd wager a camel's hump you do, you conniving scoundrel."

"In Baghdad."

"Aaaahhh! So that's where this conversation is headed… as always. Home to the desert."

"Truly, it is past time that we return to the warmer climes, oh, wise one."

Rashid always threw in "oh, wise one" when he wanted something. His machinations were as transparent as Lady Eadyth's wispy beekeeping garments.

"It is so cold and damp in this land that I swear I found mold betwixt my toes this morn. And there was frost on my nose, yea, there was, and it is only September. Mayhap you could accept the sultan's offer of a small palace in Cairo in return for becoming his personal physician. And, of course, there would be a harem." Rashid smiled widely, as if he'd just said something brilliant.

Adam glanced up from his work to see if Rashid was serious.

He was.

"I do not need a woman. I sure as bloody hell do not need a harem. And how many times do I have to tell you, I am not your master, Rashid?"

"As you say, master."

"And we are not going back to the Eastlands anytime soon."

Rashid scowled at being thwarted, but then tried a different approach. "A thousand pardons, master. Perchance you would not be so ill-tempered if your body humors were leveled out. Everyone knows that a man must empty his sacred vessel on occasion lest the biles rise in his body."