Page 69 of The Bewitched Viking

“Mayhap I have hidden talents.” By the rood! Did I say that? The only talent I have in bedsport is gritting my teeth.

He laughed mirthlessly and walked away from her, shaking his head and muttering something about having “gone berserk.” He then addressed the lawspeaker, Anlaf and the freemen. “This I will agree to. King Anlaf will give me the stallion, five hundred marks of silver—”

“Five hundred marks of silver!” King Anlaf exclaimed.

“—and I, in turn, will take the Lady Alinor with me to Dragonstead for the winter, to prove I do not fear her witchly powers. I will not marry her, though. That is asking too much. Even Anlaf must admit that.” He hesitated, then added, “You can keep the jingling girl.”

Alinor cringed inwardly at his vehement refusal to wed her. She understood. She really did. Still, it hurt.

“Methinks it a reasonable compromise,” the lawspeaker opined.

King Anlaf tapped his bearded chin thoughtfully. Finally, he nodded, and the weapon clatter of the assembly gave the final stamp of approval to Tykir’s solution.

“At least I walk away with my head, if not my dignity,” she said to Tykir as he took her by the upper arm, nigh dragging her from the great hall. She was trying to lighten his dark mood.

Bolthor followed behind, along with the seventy or so of his men who still remained. The men, armed with swords but no casting weapons, formed a tight phalanx as they withdrew from Anlaf’s court, wary of any treachery. Farther behind, Adam sprinted along after them, his robe raised to his knees to facilitate flight. Rurik came last, weighted down by cloth sacks of the coin he’d amassed from his cross and holy water transactions.

When they got to the doorway of the great hall, Tykir turned on her and said, nose pressed to nose, “Attend me well, lady. You are going to pay dearly for this trick you have played on me, in ways you cannot possibly imagine.”

“’Tis nigh impossible I could even think up such a trick.”

“Shut…your…teeth.”

She would have liked to express her opinion of his nasty manner, but she was free, thanks to him, and she decided to show her gratitude by remaining silent. Not that she had a choice.

As they all walked toward his longship in the falling snow, Alinor pondered Tykir’s words. You are going to pay dearly for this trick you have played on me, in ways you cannot possibly imagine. In that moment, she discovered that she had a really good imagination.

And she thought, Hmmm.

An hour later, two of Tykir’s longships prepared to set sail on the winding fjords north to Dragonstead.

The weather had turned bitter cold, and sleet was coming down in a steady fall of wet, biting pellets. She could tell by the nervous efficiency that the seamen expended in their tasks that they were worried by the coming storm, and about whether they would be able to make the two day trip home before the streams froze over.

Alinor sat huddled under several layers of fur rugs. The horse—a beautiful beast of sleek-as-satin black—was firmly ensconced on the other vessel, despite Anlaf’s offer to buy the animal back from Tykir.

Tykir wasn’t talking to anyone, most especially her. He went about his duties stoically, overseeing his ship’s departure. His usually full lips were thinned and bluish, and not just from the cold. She could tell that he was in tremendous pain from his old leg wound but would not stop and rest, or he might not be able to go on.

They were ready to set sail now.

Tykir walked up to her and shoved a pile of five flat boxes into her hands. They were finely carved in some foreign style and gilded along the raised edges.

“For me?” She was puzzled by the contradiction of gifts and his icy demeanor.

“For you.”

“But…but why?”

“These, my lady witch, will mark the first stage of your payment to me of the huge debt you now owe me.”

“I…I don’t understand. You give me gifts so I can pay you?”

“Yea,” he said. The smile that stretched his lips never met his eyes, which regarded her coolly. “And your debt is huge.”

The fine hairs stood out at the back of her neck. “You are talking about punishment, not payment, are you not?”

“Yea, but you have a few days to ponder your future, my lady. I will not begin to collect till we are settled in at Dragonstead for the winter…the whole bloody winter.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, even though she was beginning to be just that.