Page 79 of My Fair Viking

Alrek started to point out that plots and secret doings seemed to be what the king was engaged in, too, but he bit his tongue just in time. He was following Master Adam's advice… to think afore he flapped his tongue. The healer had given him that bit of wisdom when Alrek had told him that he'd seen Rafn poking his… uh, poker… into Vana's woman-fire one night.

"So, tell me all the news," the king said, having eaten his fill and pushed the tray aside. "And leave nothing out." He reached for the stoppered pottery jug of ale and proceeded to take a long swallow.

"Well, I can tell you one thing. 'Tis a new word I heard Master Adam sayin' to yer daughter Tyra. Mayhap it has some significance. Mayhap not." He frowned. "Or was it my lady speakin' ter Master Adam? I misremember now."

The king waved a hand as if it mattered not. "Get on with it, boy. What word is it that has you flummoxed?"

"Finger-pleasurin'."

The king started to laugh and choke at the same time. As he laughed and choked and laughed and choked, Alrek feared he might be single-handedly responsible for killing the king. Bolthor might even write a saga about it: "The King Who Laughed Himself to Death."

Alrek was thinking it was past time for him to go a-Viking.

"Finger-pleasuring?" Tykir exclaimed. "What the hell is that?"

"I have no idea," King Thorvald said. "I thought you would know… being a woman-lucky man, as you are famed to be."

"Thorvald! I have been wed for ten years now. Any woman-luck I have would be with Alinor."

The king shrugged. "And a shame that is, too… that you would disdain the more danico."

" 'Tis more like I value my life… and my manparts. Alinor would kill me if I took multiple wives… or make sure I am incapable of doing anything more than twiddling my… uh, thumb." He poured the king and then himself another goblet of ale. "So, why do you want to know what finger-pleasuring is?"

"I heard that Adam might be doing that to my daughter Tyra. Or mayhap she is doing it to him? Or mayhap they are just considering it."

Tykir narrowed his eyes at the king. "How did you hear this? I thought I was the only one who knew of your recovery."

"You are. You are. But a person hears much when people think he is dead to the world. They speak as if they are alone. You would be surprised at the news I garner just lying here."

Tykir wasn't entirely satisfied with the king's explanation, but he let it ride for now. "What do you want, Thorvald?"

"I have got to get the girl married, and it appears that fingering is as far as they have gotten. A Viking man would not settle for fingering, I will tell you that. The Saxon blood in him must make him weak-sapped."

"Adam is not weak-sapped," Tykir contended. "Furthermore, the way I hear it, those two are not even speaking today, let alone fingering each other. The way I hear it, Adam threatened to take her baby away."

"What baby? Tyra has a baby, and no one bothered to tell me? Have I no loyal subjects who would tell me this?"

"Nay, Tyra does not have a baby… yet. But if she has a baby… with Adam… he will take it away."

"He will not! I will lop off his head if he dares try. By the by, is it a boy child or a girl child? May the gods be merciful, 'tis past time for a boy child to be born in my line."

"There is not going to be a child. They are not even speaking… did you not hear me say that?"

"Can't anyone do anything right?" Thorvald threw his hands in the air. "It looks like I will have to do it myself."

"Go ahead. Awaken from the dead, you old schemer, you. Scare your entire clan by walking into your hall during dinner tonight. Or pretend to be a ghost. I do not care. But get out of that damn bed. This chamber is starting to reek… of ale and horseradish. I'm thinking of going home to Dragonstead, where everyone is sane… well, everyone except Rapp of the Big Wind."

"Go if you must," the king said grumpily, "but you might want to stay a bit longer. Perchance I will soon have something special to show you."

Tykir stopped at the door and turned back to the king, who was propped up in the bed, his hands folded behind his neck and his long legs crossed at the ankles. He had a crafty expression on his face.

"And what might that be?"

"My harem."

Chapter Fourteen

It was a bright sunny day at Stoneheim… the kind of uncommonly fair day known as Odin's Summer. A day when the sun shone brightly, deceiving one into thinking there might be more clement weather ahead, when in reality there could be snow and a freeze afore morning. In truth, one of the shipwrights who suffered a soreness of the joints told Tyra that a storm was on the horizon, because his knees were aching in premonition.