Page 56 of The Bewitched Viking

Alinor cast pleading eyes on Tykir then, her only hope in this sea of Vikings.

He remained stern-faced and unmoved.

Please God, she prayed.

Just then, the flames of a vast wall-hearth behind the dais roared brighter as some knotholes sizzled. The radiant light cast an aura behind Tykir’s head…almost like a…well, a halo.

It was a sign.

Chapter Nine

There is your witch.

Tykir’s callous words echoed in his own brain, like a hammer of guilt. He had not intended to blurt out Alinor’s identity for all to hear…leastways, not in such a premature manner. He knew better than most that timing was critical in all matters, whether it be battle, cajoling a woman into the bed furs or arguing before a thick-headed king. But he’d been caught off guard on learning from Adam that all his troubles of the past two months had been for naught. Cured! Anlaf had been cured, and never bothered to inform him.

And Alinor…look at her. Standing near the foot of the steps leading up to the dais, she resembled a child, enveloped as she was in his huge sable cloak, which pooled in the rushes at her feet. Even from here, atop the dais, he could see that her hands trembled, though her stubborn chin was held high. God’s blood! The foolish woman still harbored the notion that he was some sort of guardian angel, personally sent by her one-god to protect her. Why else would she stand, stricken, staring at him with wide, tear-brimmed eyes at his seeming betrayal?

Betrayal? Hah! She is not my charge any longer. I have delivered her to King Anlaf. I have done my duty.

Why then do I feel as low as a snake’s belly?

Nay, I feel no guilt. Nay, nay, nay! I will not be sucked into that mire of responsibility. Keep a distance…that has been my philosophy since I was a mere child of eight years, and a wise course it has been. Never stay in one place too long, and never, ever, let the people-bond become too important…whether it be with family, friends, soldiers and seamen or women.

I do not care. That is the key. Caring overmuch about anyone or anything is a dangerous tightrope for any man to walk. Too much and his most vulnerable soft areas are exposed. Too little and his soul ices over and dies from lack of warmth.

He did care about Eirik, of course. And Eadyth. And their children. Well, ’twas true, there was Selik and Rain and their children, too, including Adam. And he held just a tiny bit of affection for Gyda and his uncle, King Haakon, and Adam’s younger sister, Adele. But that was all. Nay, he must include Bolthor and Rurik, to some extent.

Good Lord! When did I start caring about so many people? It has to stop. ’Twas time to draw the line with this woman. I will not care for her. At all.

There, it was decided. He felt better now.

That did not mean he was hard-hearted. On the contrary, he would ensure the witch’s safety afore he left…or leastways the opportunity to get fair trial. Not that he was obligated to do such, but it was the noble thing to do.

Noble? Since when have I become noble?

Nay, I am spending too much time worrying over the wench. ’Tis a sign of weakness. Mayhap ’tis best just to leave. Anlaf will treat her impartially.

Impartially? How impartial can any man be when his most precious part has been curved by a curse? Yea, Anlaf must blame the witch for his manly woes these many months…even if he is cured now. Will he not feel the need for punishment? And what form will that retribution take? A flogging? Thralldom? Torture? Rape? Burning at the stake? Beheading?

Aarrgh! I am not going to think about this anymore.

I do not care.

Truly, I do not care.

Hell, where’s the mead?

All this he thought in the seconds following his blunt announcement.

“You brought a witch here?” asked Adam incredulously. Still standing at his side on the dais, Adam looped an arm around his shoulder in comradely fashion and chuckled. “Good Lord, Rurik! What is that blue mark on your face? Is it a beauty mark? You always were too vain. You should take humility lessons from me.”

Rurik said something rude about male body parts.

Adam grinned and called his attention back to Tykir and the subject at hand. “Do you and Rurik have a particular taste for witches as bedmates?”

“She’s not my bedmate,” Tykir snarled.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Adam said.