Page 87 of A Tale of Two Vikings

An hour later, Eadyth lay in her husband’s arms, both of them naked and sated, listening while he told of the Witan’s decision, or lack of a decision.

“Lord Blackthorne and his sons were there as we expected,” he told her. “A more scurrilous bunch I have never met. And the lies they told.”

“King Edgar…and the ealdormen of the Witan…did not accept his stories?” Eadyth asked running her fingers through the thick hair on his chest. Almost fifty years old, her husband was still a devastatingly handsome man. And he could still thrill her in the bed furs.

“Keep looking at me like that and I will not be able to answer,” he said with a chuckle, not at all displeased. “The king ever was Blackthorne’s bosom friend. Well, actually, ’tis Blackthorne’s son who is his comrade. But some on the council were swayed by Archbishop Dunstan, who counseled treading carefully. Dunstan is not one to be bullied…by anyone.”

“Dunstan! He was there?” Everyone knew that Dunstan had been the power behind the throne ever since he’d been called from exile three years earlier. “That wily weasel in monk’s garb!”

“That wily weasel in monk’s garb will be coming to our yuletide festivities, along with a whole contingent of Saxon nobles. They claim to want a personal audience with Lady Esme, but methinks they just want to lie about swilling your famous mead.”

“Here?” Eadyth shrieked. “They are coming here. Oh, Esme will die. And, Toste…oh, good Lord, Toste!”

“Interesting that you should mention Toste. I spoke with a priest who came from the minster in Jorvik, and he said Sister Margaret arrived there with one of our stableboys, not Toste. And no one has seen him anywhere.”

“Ummm…Eirik, there is something I must tell you.”

He sat up abruptly, alert to his wife’s nuances. “What are you up to now?” He knew her so well.

“It is not me who is up to something. It is Esme.”

“Esme?” He shook his head like a shaggy dog. “Why must you always confuse me? Speak plainly.”

“Toste. Kidnapped by Esme. Woodcutter’s hut. Tied to bed. Naked.”

Within seconds, Eirik was pulling on his braies, laughing heartily. “I cannot wait to see this. Finally the rogue has met his match.”

Laughing his arse off…

In another bedchamber several doors away, Alinor was sitting atop her husband’s stomach. Naked, the way he liked her.

Tykir was splayed out, arms and legs extended, panting for breath. Sated well and good, the way she liked him.

“Tykir, heartling, there is something I must tell you.”

His eyes cracked open a bit. “Uh-oh. I suspect trouble is on the way, especially when you call me heartling whilst sitting on my limp cock.”

“Tsk tsk tsk!” she chided him. “’Tis about Toste.”

“I already know about Toste. Gone missing, he is.” He proceeded to tell her about meeting the priest from the Jorvik minster.

“Not missing, precisely,” she told him. “Actually, he is here at Ravenshire. Never left.”

“Really?” He frowned. “I did not see him when we arrived.”

“Well, he could not come to the hall.”

“Because?” he prodded her.

“He is tied to a bed in the woodcutter’s hut, naked,” she said in a breathy rush.

“Stop talking in riddles. Who did this to him?”

“Esme.”

Tykir gaped at her for only a moment, then burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that his manpart jiggled inside her woman-place, which caused her woman-place to clasp and unclasp him, which caused him to make love to her another time, the whole time laughing. Once they were both fully dressed and preparing to leave the bedchamber, Tykir said, “I cannot wait to see this.” He was still laughing.

Out in the hallway, he met up with Eirik and Eadyth. Eirik was laughing, too. Downstairs, they told the story to Bolthor, who started laughing, too.