Page 55 of A Tale of Two Vikings

After dinner that evening, Toste sat in a cozy semicircle in the upper solar of Ravenshire before the hearth, chatting softly with those around him. In the corner was a foul-mouthed squawking bird, which somehow contributed to the homeyness of the scene. His latest favorite expression, taught to him by Tykir, no doubt, was, “Ye gotta love a Viking!”

No one wanted to retire yet. There was still so much catching up to do, and a lingering relief that at least two Viking soldiers had survived the Battle of Stone Valley. Tykir kept grinning and Alinor kept touching Toste and Bolthor, as if to make sure they really were alive.

With Toste were Eirik, Eadyth, Tykir, Alinor, Bolthor, Eirik’s two oldest daughters, Emma, who was twenty-four, and Larise, the widow of a Jorvik merchant at twenty-six. And, of course, Esme, who sat beside Toste, giving him a totally new view of who she really was.

I lusted after her as a nun. Now I lust after her as a lady. What next? If Vagn were here, he would say ’tis past time I got my ashes hauled.

Attired in a sapphire-blue gown edged with silver braid borrowed from Eadyth, she looked like the lady of high station she was.

Esme was apparently larger in the chest area than Eadyth. Every time she moves my eyeballs practically bounce out of my head. If past experience proves true, I would guess that her breasts would fit perfectly in my big hands. Aaarrgh! Stop gaping, Toste, lest you embarrass yourself. Toste wasn’t sure if it was himself or Vagn talking in his head.

Her long hair, black as a raven’s wing, was held back off her face with a twisted silver circlet and hung down to her waist.

Of course, that just made Toste think of other times and places where her hair might lie loose. Like on my bed furs.

Her thick-fringed eyes matched her gown, snapping with blue fire whenever she glanced his way. She might claim to have forgiven him, but her eyes and stiff demeanor told a different story.

I ever did like a battle, m’lady. Do not challenge me with your haughty looks, or you might just find out what a Viking soldier can do with his…weapons.

Well, that was certainly mature, Vagn said in his head.

When did I ever aim for maturity? he answered his brother. You are supposed to be having a rousing good time up in Valhalla. Swive a few Valkyries for me, brother. And go away. People are starting to think I am demented. I am starting to think I am demented.

“Who are you talking to, Toste?” Eirik asked.

“Barmy as a bat,” Abdul opined.

That is for sure. “No one,” he replied.

The men sat with legs outstretched and ankles crossed, sipping at cups of Margaret’s and Eadyth’s mead; Sister Margaret had gone to her bed long ago since she planned to rise early and return to the convent under armed guard. The ladies propped their feet on little wooden footstools known as Widow Makers.

“I still cannot believe that Vagn is gone,” Eadyth said, bringing up the subject he had hoped to avoid. But he should have known these good friends would want to discuss his dead brother.

I can’t believe I’m dead, either, Vagn said/thought. Or was it himself thinking that thought? Aaarrgh! He nodded, unable to speak.

“I cannot imagine how hard this must be for you, Toste. You two were inseparable,” Eirik said.

Not just a brother. My best friend. A feeling of tightness crushed his chest like a vise. His heart pounded madly.

“Ivan, King Haakon’s third cousin, passed by here two sennights ago,” Eadyth told him. “He saw Vagn fall with a most grievous sword wound to the chest.”

The abdomen, actually. Toste put a hand to said spot reflexively. He still felt sharp pains there on occasion. And itching betimes, too, like a scar healing.

Phew, tell me about it. Vagn made a loud exhaling sigh inside his brain. There was so much blood, it turned my stomach. I would have been scared witless if I hadn’t been dying.

“Why are you grimacing like that?” Eadyth inquired with concern.

He waved a hand dismissively, overcome by the picture Vagn painted of himself. Toste thought he really was going barmy, and it was getting worse by the hour.

Alinor got up and walked around the semicircle, then gave him a hug from behind. “You loved him dearly, Toste, and my heart goes out to you for your pain.” She kissed his cheek, then went back to her seat, tears swimming in her green eyes.

Tears welled in Toste’s eyes, too. Holy Thor! Would he ever get past this pathetic yearning for a brother who’d gone to a better life.

Who says it’s a better life? After swiving your first fifty or so virgins, Valhalla gets old fast. And all that ale drinking and shield pounding!

“I remember the time you two kept changing places to court that young lady in Miklegard…you know, the one with the veils. Finally her father came after you both with a longsword.” Leave it to Tykir to lighten the mood.

Esme made a tsk-ing sound of disapproval at his side. At the same time, she squeezed his forearm in understanding. He could forgive her much for that small gesture.