A Tale of Two Vikings

  Before she had a chance to slap him away or clout him on the side of the head, he placed a cool hand on her warm breast and fondled the large nipple.

  She groaned. He could tell that she did not want to groan, but that his brief ministration had been more pleasurable than she could resist. Like any good soldier who knew to take advantage when given an opening, he flipped the bed fur downward and placed his mouth over one of her breasts and at the same time fondled the other. Wet and hot, he laved and flicked at her till the only words out of her mouth were, "Oh, Vagn." And somehow—more thanks to the gods—her hands were at the back of his head holding him in place.

  He moved his face lower then. There was something he'd been wanting to do for days now. He placed his mouth against her belly and whispered, "Hello, babe. Here I am. Your father. Are you a handsome fellow like your father? Or a pretty girling like your mother? I cannot wait to see you. I will be here when you come, that I promise, little one."

  When he moved over her then, belly to belly, chest to breasts, he noticed that she was weeping silently. "What?" he asked, wiping away some of the moisture with a thumb.

  "You do wear a lady down, Vagn. I swear, you could charm the fleece off a lamb."

  He took that as his cue to do some more charming. He unlaced his braies, then spread her thighs with his own, resting himself on the cradle of her hips. He would be a fool to risk getting off the bed and removing his clothing, giving her a chance to have second thoughts. With no forewarning, he slid into her welcome sheath and remained still for a moment. "I think I felt the babe move," he murmured with awe.

  "You dolt!" she said. "That was me."

  "Even better."

  He made slow, adoring love to her then. No words were exchanged. They seemed unnecessary. He showed her with his body how very much he had missed her. When they both reached their peaks, he asked again, "Helga, will you marry me?"

  And she asked that infernal question of hers, "Why?"

  It occurred to him that there might be some magic answer that he could give which would unlock the door to her acceptance, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was.

  "I would be a good husband to you and father to our child. I would take over your father's estates when he is gone, if that is what you want. I would not take any authority from you if you did not want me to. I would help you with your merchant business." He looked expectantly at her.

  "And?"

  "We could have a good life together. Partners, that is what we would be. Husband and wife, but partners."

  "Nay," she said with a deep sigh of disappointment. "I will not wed with you."

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  « ^ »

  A medieval Ann Landers…

  The next morning, Alinor found Toste and Vagn out in the stables, sitting in an empty stall, swilling down mead.

  She did not blame them for trying to escape the crowded keep. More guests kept arriving, and the din of talk and laughter was overpowering.

  "Why the long faces, you two?" she asked, dropping down to the clean straw next to them. Vagn handed her the jug and she took a long swallow, then wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.

  "Neither of us is having much woman-luck," Vagn revealed.

  "Hard to believe, is it not?" Toste added.

  Yea, 'twas hard to believe that these two accomplished womanizers had met their own personal stumbling blocks.

  "Helga will not marry me, even though she carries my babe," Vagn said.

  "Esme has forgiven me for the captive business. In truth, methinks she liked it, though she would not admit such… yet. But she wants me only as her castellan at Evergreen."

  Alinor stared at the two brothers, so very identical in appearance, so bone-meltingly handsome. "Do you love her?" she asked, looking pointedly at each of them in turn.

  They both turned red-faced at her blunt question.

  "Well, yea, I suppose I do," Toste said finally.

  "Of course I do," Vagn said more forcefully.

  "Have you told her?" Again she looked at each of them separately.

  "Not in words," Toste said.

  "You thick-headed fool. In what? Signs from the heavens?"

  "There is no need to be sarcastic," Toste snapped back.

  "I must have told Helga that I love her." Vagn was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I mean, I think I did. Didn't I? Surely, even if I didn't, she knows." He looked up and inquired of Alinor, "Doesn't she?"

  "Words should not be necessary," Toste argued.

  "Believe me, words are necessary."

  "I can't believe I didn't say it. I felt it. Why didn't Helga feel it?"

  "Vagn, three words. I… love… you. That is what she needs to hear. Enough with this feeling the sentiment."

  Alinor rose to return to the keep, her mission accomplished… she hoped. One never knew with thick-headed Vikings. "And, by the by, Bolthor is in the great hall regaling one and all, with a saga entitled 'Dog and Candle Sex and Vikings.'"

  Toste and Vagn bolted to their feet and rushed ahead of her back to the castle, both of them muttering something about adding skald soup to the yuletide menu.

  Alinor whisked her hands together and grinned with satisfaction. A meddling woman's work was never done.

  When a man loves a woman …

  Vagn was wasting no time.

  He entered the great hall, which was overflowing with people though it was not yet midday. At first, he was disoriented by the dimness after the bright sunlight outside and by the amount of mead he'd already drunk on an empty stomach. But then he spotted Helga at one of the upper tables sitting with her father and some of the Briarstead soldiers, including Finn Finehair. Is that coxcomb everywhere?

  Slowly he moved through the aisle created by the trestle tables. He knew the moment that she saw him. She smiled reflexively, then immediately wiped the mirth from her face, not wanting to give him any encouragement, no doubt.

  When he arrived at the table, breathless—whether from excitement, or fear, or too much mead, he did not know—he told her right off, "Stand up, Helga."

  "What?" she squawked.

  He loved it when she squawked. It meant he'd done something particularly outrageous. Everyone in the surrounding area was staring at him. He probably looked wild… or something. Mayhap there was straw sticking out of his ears. He saw Toste on the far side of the hall give him the victory sign that only they understood. And in his head, his brother said, You can do it, Vagn. Sweep her off her feet.

  Without ado, he shoved a cloth-wrapped parcel in front of her. "This is for you." Betimes Vagn forgot to be smooth.

  She stared at the package, then slowly unwrapped it. Inside was the silk fabric with the heart embroidery which he'd purchased from her. He'd had it made into a fine gown—he hoped a wedding gown.

  He could see that Helga was touched. She ran her fingertips over it slowly, and her eyes clouded over. But then she stood and said, "Have you lost your mind, Vagn?"

  "Yea, I have. Over you."

  "You are embarrassing me."

  You haven't seen anything yet. He licked his lips and took both her hands in his. "Helga, I love you."

  People all around them heard and smiled at him. Helga, on the other hand, lowered her head and murmured, "Don't do this to me, Vagn. I cannot take this kind of jest."

  "I love you. Why is that a jest?"

  "You do not love me."

  "Yea, I do."

  "You are just saying this because you want me to accept you as husband so that you can be a legitimate father to our child." He could tell that her long-winded reply was hurtful for her to make in front of all these people. He would have spared her this if he'd thought ahead of time. But he hadn't.

  "I love you, I love you, I love you."

  "If that is true, why have you never said it afore?" She met his eyes now.

  And gods help him, he saw hope there. He must tread carefully now. "A wise woman… rather, a meddlin
g woman… pointed out to me that women need to hear those words. In truth, I must have forgotten that fact. Well, actually I have never loved any other woman afore, so the subject wouldn't have even come up. Have I never said the words to you? I thought I had, but then I wondered if I'd just shown you in a thousand ways but never…" He let his words trail off as he realized that he was rambling.

  "Oh, Vagn." There were tears in her eyes, but then, there were tears in her eyes all the time lately due to the pregnancy.

  "I did not mean to make you weep."

  "You love me?"

  "I do."

  "Will you marry me?" she asked then.

  "I thought you would never ask, heartling." With a whoop of delight, he swept her up in his arms and carried her out of the great hall, to the cheers of the crowd, especially his brother, who cheered loudest of all.

  Vagn noticed something odd then. There were tears in his own eyes. Must be the pregnancy, he decided with a shrug.

  Pleading his case… all right, just pleading…

  Toste did not have such good luck in talking to Esme.

  He was in the Ravenshire business solar off the great hall with her later that afternoon, but at least two dozen other people were there, as well. Unlike his brother, he was averse to baring his soul in public.

  Besides, Esme was casting dagger stares his way. But she also whistled under her breath, so nervous was she over the proceedings about to take place. It did not help matters that her father and two brothers sat in the front row, having shown up uninvited an hour ago.

  An unscheduled meeting of the Witan was being held for the benefit of Esme's petition to regain Evergreen. It was not an official meeting, only seven members being present, including Archbishop Dunstan—and what an imposingly grim cleric he was!—along with five ealdormen.

  The Witan had already heard Toste's evidence, Esme's recital of past sins against her by her family, and her father's lying testimony of "only wanting what is best for my daughter." Dunstan, to give him credit, ran a tight proceeding, not fooled a bit by any of them, least of all Blackthorne's accounting of all the funds from fifteen years of water tolls. It turned out that the Crown had no objection to the practice, but it wanted its fair share in taxes. In other words, Blackthorne had not only been cheating his daughter, he had been cheating his king, as well. Not a wise political move!

  Dunstan stood finally and said, "Lady Esme, I believe you have just right to Evergreen. And I am impressed by your fifteen years spent in a convent, and the letter of commendation I have received from Mother Wilfreda concerning your conduct there." Everyone knew that Dunstan considered women instruments of the devil, and his attitude was evident in his condescending tone. "However, I am not convinced that a woman… even a woman with your skills… can run an estate on her own. You need the guardianship of your father till that time when you wed."

  "Nay!" Esme blurted out. She knew as they all did what this would mean. Either she would be forced to wed a puppet husband of her father's choice, or she would be dead. Neither was a palatable choice.

  Dunstan's nostrils flared with outrage that a mere woman would question his decision.

  "Your Grace," Toste said, standing. "I believe I have a solution." He glanced over at Esme beseechingly. This was not the way he would have chosen to bring up this subject.

  "Ivarsson," the archbishop acknowledged reluctantly.

  Toste recognized that the priest considered the decision already made and did not appreciate any last-minute interference. But he could not refuse to listen. Too many eyes were watching… some of them politically powerful.

  The archbishop nodded for him to go on. The curl of Dunstan's upper lip seemed to indicate that he included Vikings in the same lowly class as women.

  "I would take Esme for my bride. I would protect her and Evergreen. Though Viking by blood, I would swear allegiance to your Saxon overlord, if it would help Esme in her petition."

  Shock rippled around the room, especially from Blackthorne and his sons.

  "Nay!"

  "This is outrageous!"

  "He's a bloody Norseman. You can't trust a one of them."

  These statements did not sit well with Dunstan, nor the Viking nobles who sat about the room, including Tykir, Eirik, Gorm and others.

  "And what of you, Esme?" Dunstan inquired, as if he cared. "Wouldst accept Toste Ivarsson as your husband?"

  Before she had a chance to answer, Toste interjected,

  "Your Grace, Ealdorman, could I have one moment to speak to Esme alone?"

  "Speak fast, brother," Vagn said to him from his side where he'd been sitting. "And remember Alinor's advice."

  Toste did not wait for the Witan's approval but rushed over to Esme, who appeared stunned, grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the corridor.

  "I love you, Esme," he said right off. No one could accuse him of being a total lackwit. He could tell that his declaration was not what she'd expected.

  "You do not need to say that, Toste. I appreciate your offer of marriage, but I would not have you sacrifice your freedom for me. You have done enough."

  "Not nearly enough. I should have told you earlier… I thought you knew, or leastways suspected. Did you suspect?"

  "Suspect what?"

  "That I love you."

  "Stop saying that."

  "Why?"

  "Because 'tis not true."

  "Yea, 'tis."

  "When did you make this amazing discovery?"

  "Just afore I left the woodcutter's hut for Evergreen."

  She punched him in the stomach, which barely hurt, but he winced just the same. "What was that for?"

  "For not telling me."

  "About going to Evergreen? I already apologized for that."

  "About loving me. You are a dunderhead."

  "Yea, I am. Does that mean you believe me?"

  "I do not know. Say it again."

  "I love you."

  She smiled.

  "Do you perchance love me, Esme?"

  "Mayhap." She was still smiling.

  "Will you marry me?"

  "Of course. There was never any question of that."

  Some women liked to torture men. He kissed her deeply, then whispered in her ear, "Did I ever tell you about this sexual position that is a favorite of betrothed women?"

  She laughed and said, "Is it just you, or are all Viking men so irresistible?"

  "We are all irresistible," he said. And that was the truth.

  * * *

  Epilogue

  « ^

  Rock-a-bye… Vikings…

  It was summertime at Briarstead, and Vagn Ivarsson's first child had been born two hours ago.

  Maeva had taken a terrifying day and a half coming into this world. Terrifying to Vagn and Gorm, that is. The midwife and Helga had taken it all in stride.

  Helga finally slept, thanks to a sleeping potion. Gorm had gone down to the great hall to drink himself dotty in celebration. He and Toste planned to join him soon.

  "I hate to tell you this, Vagn," his brother said, looking over his shoulder at the bald-headed, shrivel-faced babe in Vagn's arms, "but your babe is a mite homely."

  "She is not!" Vagn declared adamantly. "Maeva is beautiful." And she was. To him.

  He saw Toste's grin and knew he was teasing him, as usual.

  Toste and Esme had come from Evergreen a sennight ago so they could be present for the birth. Esme was down in the scullery preparing a fortifying beef marrow broth for Helga when she awakened.

  Toste and Vagn had married their lady loves at Ravenshire in a double wedding ceremony performed by Archbishop Dunstan. Everyone had agreed that it was the best yuletide celebration they'd ever attended. Later, they'd had wild Viking ceremonies at their own estates.

  "We've been given a gift," Vagn said dreamily.

  "Dost mean you and Helga and the babe?"

  He shook his head. "Nay. You and me. We met the Raven of Death and escaped her clutches. It really was a miracl
e, our surviving the battle, then being reunited. A miracle."

  Toste nodded.

  Vagn laughed then, looking down at his precious girling who was sleeping peacefully, her tiny thumb stuck in her mouth. "Finally I have done something first. Right from the beginning, you came from the womb first, and you have always been one step ahead of me thereafter. But I… I had the first child."

  "That you did, Vagn," Toste conceded, "but I will of course outdo you once again. Esme is breeding, and"—he paused dramatically—"the midwife predicts twins."

  Outdone! Again! Well, not really. "Congratulations! Another miracle!"

  Both brothers laughed heartily then, cherishing the miracle that was a Viking's life… their life.

  It was appropriate that Bolthor came into the room then and said, "Methinks this occasion merits a special saga."

  "For a certainty," both brothers concurred, for once welcoming a praise-poem from the world's worst skald.

  "A good title for this one would be 'A Tale of Two Vikings.'"

  "Lost they were in the sea of life,

  Two brothers who faced much strife.

  Twins they were, bonded from birth,

  In everything they always found mirth,

  Till one day the Raven called them home,

  And that is the subject of this poem.

  Because death met its match

  When it tried these twins to snatch.

  In the end, they were brought to their knees,

  By two women, if you please.

  The moral of this saga, my friend?

  Love conquers all in the end."

  THE END

  * * *

  Author's Letter

  Dear Readers:

  Well, I gave you not one but two Vikings this time with A Tale of Two Vikings. What did you think of Toste and Vagn?

  And, by the way, remind me never again to give my Vikings unpronounceable names. My critique partners berate me about this all the time. In fact, the first time I heard my friend pronounce Toste's name as Toasty, I almost died. The truth is, I never intended these twins to be heroes, else I would have thought this through better. No one knows for sure how these names were pronounced a thousand years ago, but this is how I say them. Toss-tee. Vay-gan.