Page 107 of The Blue Viking

A wistful expression came over Rain’s face, as if she were lost in memory. “I am not so old that I cannot recall the time Selik established an orphanage for me to win me back. The dolt! Did he ever ask if I wanted to adopt dozens of homeless children? Nay. He just blundered ahead.”

Maire narrowed her eyes, suddenly realizing that these three ladies … these three devious ladies … were attempting to manipulate her.

“I am not going to marry Rurik,” she asserted.

“Absolutely not,” the three ladies said. Meanwhile, each pulled out lengths of yarn and began to measure her shoulders and bodice and waist and hips and shanks and arms.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Each glanced at the other, guilty as sin, and said, “Nothing.” But she heard Alinor whisper to the others, “Same size as me, except for a little more in the bodice.”

Then, they all gazed at her with complete innocence.

“There is not going to be a wedding,” she repeated again.

Alinor waved a hand airily.

They all sailed away then, leaving Maire with much to think on, after she locked the door behind them. Did she really hate Rurik? Did she consider his crimes unforgiveable? Hadn’t she sinned against him, as well, by keeping Jamie’s birth a secret for so long? Had Rurik forgiven her for that crime? Was she any less forgiving?

She straightened with resignation. All these questions were wasted exercises because, after all, the man was betrothed to another woman.

“I have a deal for you. Heh, heh, heh.”

Rurik had been sipping at the same cup of uisgebeatha for the past hour and was in no mood for more abuse from the old witch, Cailleach, but since she was the only one in the whole bloody keep willing to speak with him, he said, “What the hell!” Then he motioned for her to sit down on the bench opposite him at the table.

The witch, who was looking especially old and haggard today—she must have been imbibing one of her own ghastly brews—waved aside his offer of a drink. Instead, she sank down on the bench and got right to the point.

“I have cast the rune stones and come to the conclusion that you are no good for Maire.”

“Hah! You and every other person in creation! What else is new?”

“Your sarcasm will gain you naught, boy.” She studied him in the most disarming way, causing Rurik to shift uneasily. “If it’s a new bairn taking seed that has ye worried, forget about that. Don’ let another child be a reason fer stickin’ aroun’.”

“Wh-what?”

“The seed ye spilled inside Maire when makin’ love in the loch … it did not take. Ye are free of that burden.”

So, Maire was not pregnant. He didn’t even bother to ask how Cailleach would know such a thing and so soon. Lackwit that he was becoming, though, he accepted that the old witch had such talents. Rurik should have been relieved that Maire was not increasing, but, oddly, he was not.

“Go away, Cailleach. I am not in the mood for your witchly games.”

“Are you in the mood for having the blue mark removed?”

That got his attention. He sat up straighten “Can you remove the mark?”

“I can … if I want to.”

“And what would make you want to?” Rurik suspected that he was not going to like the answer.

“A deal. You agree to leave Scotland, alone, and I will remove the blue mark.”

He’d been right. He didn’t like the answer. “You dislike me that much?”

“I do not dislike you at all. In truth, I rather like you. But you would not be a good man for Maire.”

Rurik was insulted. He wasn’t so sure he would make a good mate, either, but it was not for an old hag to tell him so.

“Oh, do not be gettin’ yer bowels in an uproar,” Cailleach advised. “Maire needs a stable person in her life. Someone who will stay put… be there for her and the boy, not only in a crisis, but for the everyday. Not a very exciting life, is it? Not like ?-Viking, leastways.”