Page 5 of My Fair Viking

Adam shook his head at Rashid's persistence. He had a fair idea of what "sacred vessel" Rashid referred to, but, being a physician, he had to ask, "Which biles would those be?"

Rashid brightened, no doubt thinking that he was making some progress. He wasn't. "The biles that create dark moods."

"Rashid," Adam said with a weary sigh, "I am not in a dark mood… especially not a dark mood caused by sexual deprivation."

"Hah! You are always in a dark mood. The grooves betwixt your eyebrows have become a permanent fixture. You have set aside your fine apparel. The coins you earned on one battlefield or another have been stored away, along with the treasures given for your great medical achievements. And this home you inherited from your adoptive father Selik is certainly dark and gloomy," he said, waving a hand at their surroundings. "There is no gaiety in your life. What you need is gaiety."

Adam's lips twitched with suppressed mirth. "And that gaiety would come from… let me guess… a harem?"

"I knew you would agree with me." Rashid puffed his chest out with self-satisfaction.

"I do not agree with you. Stop being unreasonable."

Rashid unpuffed his chest. "You could start small, with one or two females. That would be reasonable. You wouldn't need to have a full harem right away. You've heard of that famous Arab proverb regarding harems, haven't you?"

"The one which says, 'If there is no nubile female about, a camel will suffice'?"

"For shame!" Rashid exclaimed, but his lips were fighting a grin, too. "Nay, I refer to the one which says, 'A man's staff needs constant polishing.' "

Adam shook his head with amusement.

Rashid's dark-skinned face turned somber. He put a hand on Adam's shoulder. "In all seriousness, my lord, I worry about you. You have become a recluse here in your own land. You do not mix in society. You make no attempt to refurbish your keep so that others may visit. Most worrisome of all, you continue to refuse to treat the ill and dying who come seeking your healing skills."

Adam should have been affronted. Rashid went too far, for a servant. But then, he was not really a servant. He was a friend. And Adam had given him good cause to worry.

Adam squeezed Rashid's hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to move to the other side of the table where work awaited him. "I'm getting better, Rashid. Really, I am. I know I have been morbid overlong, but—"

Rashid made a snorting sound of commentary on just how morbid he had been of late.

"—but I have been thinking of establishing a small hospitium in that old weaving shed near the moat. What think you of that?"

Rashid gave him a look that said, without words, that he would have been much more impressed if he'd said he was thinking of establishing a harem… even in the old weaving shed.

"I knew you could not walk away from medicine permanently," Rashid said. "Why else would you maintain your studies? Why else would you continue to gather herbs? Why else would you correspond with healers of other lands? You may call yourself knight or land owner, traveler or hermit, but at heart you will always be a physician. Till the day you die. For the love of Allah, 'tis time you stopped fighting your fate."

Rashid's wise words did not require comment, but Adam did ponder all he had said. A long period of silence followed.

Adam worked with great concentration, writing in his journal. Rashid, giving up on his harem exhortations for the moment, sat on the bench across the table from him, looking for more work to do now that he was finished with the beeswax balm. After years of noisy towns and battlefields, after the turmoil of personal tragedies, after so much death… well, the familiar, peaceful sounds of his quill scratching on parchment and Rashid's pestle now moving rhythmically against fragrant herbs in a stone bowl were oddly soothing.

Alas, their solitude was broken of a sudden.

Clang! Clang! Clang! they heard, accompanied by huffing-and-puffing noises and a few muttered expletives. There were also the neighing of horses and the rhythmic clatter of shod hooves on wood, probably the drawbridge planks.

Adam and Rashid turned as one with surprise toward the windows that looked out over the bailey, then toward the open doorway that led down to the great hall. The sounds seemed to emanate from somebody, or somebodies, stomping through the courtyard and up the steps to his keep.

"Did you forget to pull up the drawbridge?" Adam asked sardonically.

"Ha, ha, ha! May Allah be laughing at your marvelous wit," Rashid replied. Adam, Rashid, the cook, a chambermaid, and a stable boy were the only people living in this cavernous wood castle. There was nothing worth stealing. And the drawbridge was rusted into a down position, as they both well knew. "No one ever comes to this desolate place. You live like a hermit."

"You already said that."

"Some things bear repeating."

"Not that."

"Mayhap it is your stepuncle, Lord Eirik, returning with yet another invitation to spend the coming harvest season at Ravenshire."

Adam peered out through one of the arrow slit windows. "Nay, these men appear to be Viking soldiers, hesirs, by their attire and weapons." Although Eirik was half Viking, he had long ago adopted Saxon ways, including his manner of dress.