Page 16 of The Caged Viking

“Or worse. Some say Viking women are more vicious than their men.”

“All women are. Ouch! Why did ye pinch me arm, Dorrie?”

“I’ll pinch more than your arm if ye don’t shut your yapper.”

Kirstin ignored the comments until she stood below the dais and called up to the young woman in the center, a teenager, really, but wearing the garb and crown of royalty. If this was the time period she’d calculated when her father had first mentioned Hauk Thorsson to her, she knew exactly who this must be. “Queen Emma!”

When the queen failed to respond and instead kept chatting with an older woman on her left, Kirstin yelled, “Queen Emma, could I have a word with you?”

Now, Kirstin had the attention of not just the queen, but everyone around the queen, including the man on her right who must be her husband, King Aethelred.

The queen tilted her head in question and stared at Kirstin. “Dost speak to me?”

“I do. My name is Kirstin Magnusson, and I’m looking for the Viking being held here in a cage.” Kirstin figured she couldn’t be any more direct than that.

There were gasps around her, and she noticed the king make a motion with a flick of the fingertips of one hand toward some guardsmen on her left… to take her into captivity, for daring to address royalty without permission, no doubt, or maybe because she was clearly of Norse descent, or, oh, yeah, because she was asking about their prisoner. Immediately, two burly men took hold of her by the upper arms and tried to drag her away.

“Wait!” the queen said as she stood and attempted to see Kirstin better by leaning forward over the table, which wasn’t far, considering her condition. Her purple gown, trimmed in gold thread, had a sort of empire waist which could not hide her huge baby bump. “Magnusson? Do I know you?”

Kirstin tried to shrug out of the grip of the two guardsmen, who turned out to be her two pals, Osric and Elfrid, to no avail. So, in a rush of words she tried to explain, “No, we’ve never met, but you must know my aunt, Lady Katla, who is married to Jarl Harald Gudsson of Norsemandy, or my cousins Thorfinn and Steven, Lady Katla’s sons. My father is Magnus Ericsson. I know, it’s usually the boys who take their father’s names and the girls who take their mother’s, but in my family we all use dad’s first name as our surname. Much simpler, especially in our case where we all had different mothers.” Kirstin bit her bottom lip to stop her nervous chatter.

Emma’s eyes went wide as she picked out one part of Kirstin’s blathering. “Lady Katla is my mother’s godmother.”

Well, yippee! Kirstin breathed a sigh of relief. When it came to Vikings, the usual six degrees of separation was knocked back to about three. She should have realized that from the start.

“Who is she? Where did she come from?” the befuddled king asked, looking first at his wife, then at the guardsmen.

“She asked for directions to the Viking beast,” one of her guardsmen told the king.

The king’s bushy eyebrows shot up with suspicion and he rose to his feet next to his wife. “For what purpose?” he demanded of Kirstin.

Kirstin knew she had to think quickly. She couldn’t say she was a traveler from the future; too much explanation would be required on her part and too much disbelief would follow on theirs. And she couldn’t say that she’d come to rescue the prisoner; she’d probably end up behind bars, too, or worse. So, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “He’s my fiancée.”

“Your what?” the king questioned.

“Betrothed. Hauk and I were betrothed by our fathers, as children. I haven’t seen or heard from Hauk in years, and, frankly, I’m a little tired of waiting for him to drag his sorry ass to the altar. Oops! Sorry for the bad language. Anyhow, I figured I should check and see if he’s dead or alive. If he’s dead, time for me to move on.” She shrugged. “If he’s alive, well, that poses another problem, seeing as how he’s living in a cage. Hard to set up housekeeping in that small a space. Ha, ha, ha.”

Well, that bit of flippancy went over like a lead balloon, Kirstin realized as about a dozen people, including the king and queen, gaped at her. Not one of them smiled. No sense of humor, at all.

“How romantic!” Queen Emma said then.

“What?” Kirstin exclaimed and that sentiment was echoed by the king who looked at his wife as if she’d just hopped on the crazy train.

“We should have a wedding,” Emma proposed.

“Are you gone barmy, wife?” Aethelred asked.

“No. Think about it, husband. If they wed, this woman will get the marriage she was promised. And my father and Sweyn can hardly complain about Hauk’s confinement if they find him happily wed during his sojourn here.”

Sojourn? Is that what they’re calling imprisonment now? Like, “Hey, Mister President, how long will those terrorists be sojourning in Guantanemo?”

There were cheers from everyone within hearing distance. Finally, the drunken mass was to be given new entertainment. “A wedding! A wedding! A wedding!” they all chanted, banging their wooden goblets on the tables.

“Someone get the bishop,” the king declared with an evil smile. “If he’s not available, any priest will do. My wife gives good advice. Perhaps the heathen invaders will think twice about attacking if they find out we’ve treated one of their own so well.”

No wonder Aethelred is described by historians as dumber than dirt, so to speak. And Emma is just as bad. As if one marriage could make up for months of incarceration for one high-placed Viking or for the massacre of so many Norse people living in England! “No, no, no!” Kirstin shouted over all the chatter. She doubted whether the king would be dissuaded by her pointing out that his transgressions would far outweigh this one act. So, she tried a more logical approach. “We can’t have a wedding now. The banns have to be called in church for several weeks and other preparations need to be made for the ceremony. Plus, I have no wedding gown.”

“I’m the king. I waive the need for banns,” the king declared, raising his right hand as if making a royal proclamation.