Page 84 of My Fair Viking

"It's a gift."

"No one ever gave me nuthin', 'ceptin' the king, and that was a job."

"Well, I am giving you something, but there is a price attached."

Alrek was staring at his new sword adoringly. "Whatever you say."

"You know that I am going away soon, and I am not… cannot take you with me."

The boy immediately stiffened at that reminder. "I do not see why—"

Adam put up a halting hand. "You should be able to live as a boy, but God… the gods… have dealt you a different fate. That means you must continue to be the head of your family. Being the head of the family also means protecting those under your shield. That is why I'm giving you the sword. That is why I will practice with you as much as possible till it is time for me to leave. Having your very own weapon means being responsible, Alrek. You must learn to be more careful. A sword can be your friend or your foe. Make it your friend. Do you understand?"

Alrek nodded, but Adam wasn't sure how much the youthling understood. Well, he would once Adam was done instructing him. Some people believed that they were helping children by keeping all dangerous objects out of their path, but he was of the opinion that people—even little people—must learn to deal with the dangers that surrounded them.

'Twas as Rashid always said, "Do not stand in a place of danger and pray for miracles." Well, Alrek kept looking to him for a miracle. Adam chose instead to provide Alrek with his own means to a miracle. But, bloody hell, he hoped the boy didn't kill himself first.

By the time dusk rolled over the Norse mountains, Adam and Alrek were both feeling proud of the youthling's accomplishments. He was not yet a skilled swordsman, but he had made progress. And the two of them had only a dozen or so nicks on their arms to show for the effort. Alrek promised to practice with him early the next morning and again in the late afternoon. Adam would speak to Rafn about tutoring the boy after he left.

It was the best he could do.

As they trudged back toward the keep and the sweat house where they planned to heat up their aching muscles, Alrek turned to him and said, "A man's sword should have a name, should it not?"

"Absolutely."

"I know what mine will be."

"Now, Alrek, remember what I said about so many of your problems being the result of acting before thinking. Stop, think, act. That is to be your motto."

"I do not need to think about this. The name of my sword shall be…"

Adam just knew he was not going to like this.

"… Miracle-Maker."

From a distance, Tyra had been watching Adam and Alrek practicing swordplay at the far end of the exercise field. For three hours, Adam had worked patiently with the accident-prone youthling. He would have cuts up one arm and down the other to show for his efforts.

At first, when she'd heard that the healer had commissioned a small sword to be made for the boy, she'd been furious. Storming out of the smithy, she'd stomped over to the exercise fields and had been about to chastise the healer for interfering in the affairs of Stoneheim. Arming and training a Viking boy was her business, not his.

But Rafn had put a hand on her arm to hold her back. "Adam is doing the right thing. We cannot continue to overprotect Alrek. The boy must learn himself."

"Even if he hurts himself?"

Rafn had nodded. "Even if he hurts himself."

So Tyra had watched and marveled at the tolerant manner in which Adam instructed his pupil… over and over, teaching the same lesson. The Viking short sword was not made for the thrust-and-parry action of the longer, lighter Saxon sword. And so Adam and Alrek practiced the hacking, slicing motions with their swords against a tall tree stump.

Most surprising of all was the expertise Adam displayed as he hefted his sword and wielded it in smooth, fluid motions. The healer had told her that he had been a soldier betimes over the years, but she must not have believed him.

"He is a handsome devil, is he not?" Tykir asked as he came up to stand beside her.

"That he is," she admitted. Despite the coolness of the air, Adam and Alrek had stripped off their tunics and were exercising bare-chested. Adam's dark hair and Alrek's blond hair were both tied back into queues at their napes with leather ties. Alrek would no doubt be a handsome man when he was grown… if he lived that long. Adam was already as handsome as a god.

"Who is he?" Tyra asked. The man was clearly full of contradictions. He could be a soldier, or a healer. He could be as crude as the most ignorant cotter, or sensitive to the needs of others. He claimed to want no family, and yet he threatened to take her child if it were ever born of his seed.

"Do not judge Adam too harshly," Tykir said. "I'm not sure he knows, himself. He has lived a harsh life, and a privileged life. In the end, he is a survivor. But at a cost."

"Have you known him long?"