Page 52 of The Caged Viking

Then there’s one called “Who Let the Dogs Out?”

When she made dog barking sounds, he and Egil and Bjorn just stared at her.

“Okay, speaking of dogs…here’s something that you might find comical. People keep dogs as pets in their homes in the future, but they take them outside on leashes for walks to do their business. Then they pick up their poop in plastic sacks and carry it home for disposal.”

“You are making this all up,” Hauk said. “No man…no Viking man…would ever do that.”

“Wanna bet?” she countered. But then, she seemed to come to some conclusion. “Listen, it’s six o’clock already,” she said, glancing at the gold band on her wrist which she claimed told all the hours and minutes and seconds of the day. “Why don’t you two go to the hall and celebrate the victory with your friends, enjoy a few yucks with the boys. I can stay with Bjorn. Suffice it to say, if there’s a problem, I can come for you.”

“Yucks? Is that the same as fucks?” Egil asked, and then, at Kirstin’s gasp of affront, he whispered to Hauk, loud enough for all to hear, “She is barmy.”

“I like her, probably because I like dogs,” Bjorn said, making a barking noise, but then clutching at his gut for the pain that small movement caused.

“At least someone appreciates me,” she said with an exaggerated woeful expression on her face.

Hauk smiled. “Are you sure you don’t want to come to the hall, to share a cup of mead? Egil can keep watch over Bjorn.”

“Not on your life! Me in a hall full of drinking men? I don’t think so!”

She was probably right. Besides, Hauk wasn’t sure he wanted her so close to the spot where her “time travel” or whatever the hell it was, had begun. There were too many questions to be answered before she disappeared. At least, he told himself that’s why he didn’t want to risk losing her.

“You could always tell the crowd one of your jokes,” Hauk teased. “Otherwise, we will be forced to listen to the skald compose praise-poems to Sweyn’s heroics.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Hauk left with Egil a short time later. They spent several hours in the hall, imbibing the Saxon royal ale, and sharing good cheer with the ten men of his shiphird who had taken part in the battle and still remained. More than once he’d glared at comrades-in-arms who tried to make jests about his time living in a cage. Hauk liked to laugh like any Viking, who enjoyed humor, even when at their expense, but enough was enough on the cage jests.

After a while and much imbibing of ale, the men in the hall, including him and Hauk, accepted their share of the spoils, which were not overly generous in their case since they were not part of Sweyn’s regular army and had only joined the fight late in the day. Hauk got two gold plates, several ells of rich samite cloth, a sable-lined cape, and a handful of loose gems. To Sweyn’s amusement, Hauk also grabbed several gowns for Kirstin and a pair of lady’s half boots. Egil got a small pouch of gold coins. Each of the twenty Haukshire shiphird got a silver arm ring each. The meagerness of their reward wasn’t worth an argument, Hauk decided. Besides, they’d taken the castellan’s chest without Sweyn’s knowledge. And both Egil and Hauk’s seamen, along with many other Vikings, had done some scavenging on the battlefield afore Sweyn put a halt to that activity.

Normally, Hauk would have enjoyed this fellowship with his comrades-in-arms, but tonight, everything seemed too loud, the food too greasy, and the boasting too embellished. And way too much farting and belching, even for his less than refined tastes. He directed all but two of his men to return to Jorvik on the morrow and prepare the ship for eventual voyage back to the Norselands.

Sweyn stopped him when he was about to leave the hall. “You are going so early to your bed furs? What is amiss? Are you displeased?” Sweyn’s breath was heavy with drink and his tone combative. Like many Vikings when drukkinn, he was looking for a good fight.

Well, Hauk wasn’t in the mood to give it to him. “The company is fine. The disbursement of treasure satisfies me. I am just overtired. And I need to check on my son who is wounded.”

“Ah, I forgot,” Sweyn said. “I will give him my personal thanks first chance I get.”

Hauk added, “Keep in mind, I have been living in a cage for nigh on six months. Spending more time in this hall provides bad memories.”

“Ah, I forgot that too,” Sweyn said with a big grin. “I know, let us go burn the thing down.”

“You might very well catch the whole castle afire.”

“Well, then, perchance one of our Saxon prisoners would like to reside within the cage. What think you, Hauk?”

“If King Aethaelred or one of his nobles were about, I would agree, but a housecarl of lower rank…? Nay. Not worth the bother.”

On those words he began to walk away and noticed that Sweyn’s attention was already diverted to a Saxon serving maid who’d caught his eye. Best Sweyn be careful, or another part of his body would catch something. Hauk had noticed from his cage that this particular wench bedded many men, several in one night.

When he got back to his bedchamber, he found Kirstin, fully dressed except for her shoes, curled up on the castellan’s fine wool cloak which she’d spread out on the rushes. A quick check of Bjorn found him soundly asleep, drool dribbling from the side of his open mouth, due to the poppy juice, no doubt, which they were weaning him from, but not yet totally.

Hauk toed off his half boots, undid his belt, and pulled his tunic up and over his head, leaving him bare-chested but with his braies still on. He considered taking those off, too, then decided to leave them on. With a wide yawn, he sank down to the cloak and pulled his wife into his side, with her head resting on his shoulder and his arm around her back. With his free hand, he pulled the edges of the cloak over them both.

He sighed then, feeling at utter peace for the first time since he couldn’t recall when. Perhaps since before he’d heard of Bjorn’s presumed death. Mayhap it was a sign of his getting older. Under normal circumstances, he would be enjoying himself with heavy drinking and boisterous bedplay after a battle. He kissed the top of his wife’s head…and sighed again.

He could not lose her.

Holy Thor! When had he turned into such a weakling? He would not lose her. All he needed was a plan.