Sandra Hill - [Vikings II 04] Read Free

sitting on the table before him. “And, by the by, I hear that King Svein has a bone to pick with you.”
    “Pffff! Six months ago he tried to trap me into marrying his daughter. He did not succeed.”
    Madrene raised her eyebrows at him. “The way I hear it, he almost succeeded.” As always, the Norse gossip vine had stretched its tendrils all the way from Denmark to Norway. Not surprising. “That third leg of yours will get you into trouble yet.”
    Third leg?
“Madrene! You may have seen twenty-eight winters, but that gives you no excuse for unseemliness. Tsk-tsk.” He grinned as he spoke.
    It was Madrene’s turn to say, “Pffff!” She shookher head at him. “Men always let their dangly parts lead them down the wrong path. Methinks it started with the Christians’ Adam, whose lustsome nature caused him to eat the forbidden apple.”
    He and Madrene had been raised in both the Norse and Christian religions, but still he found amusement in her quoting of the Scriptures. Neither of them was very religious.
    “Do not smirk at me, brother. You know I am right. And whilst we are on the subject …”
    He groaned and put his face in his hands.
    “… would it be such a bad thing for you to marry Inga? She is pretty enough. And biddable. And apparently wanton to some extent.”
    “All good qualities in a wife, I presume?” he asked with a laugh, raising his head once again. “Biddable! Hah! What would I do with a biddable wife? There is one thing I would discuss with you, though … something, uh, personal?”
    She arched her eyebrows in question.
    “When I was with Inga, and we were engaged in … you know …”
    She arched her eyebrows higher.
    “… I did what I was supposed to do, but I had no … um, ‘enthusiasm’ to speak of.”
    Madrene’s lips trembled with a half smile. “That was six months ago. Libertine that you are, how has your ‘enthusiasm’ held up withother women?” She choked on her own stifled laughter.
    I knew I should not have discussed this with Madrene. She does not take me seriously, not by half.
Still, he blundered on, “There have been no others. Dost think something is wrong with me?”
    “I don’t know. Have you truly not lain with any other woman in all that time? I mean, ’tis unremarkable for me—I have not known a man in five years. But you? By thunder, ’tis a miracle.”
    He could not tell for certain whether she made jest with him. He felt himself blush, and he never blushed.
    “None? Well, well, well.” The expression on her face was marked by equal parts disbelief and amusement.
    Rose, who sat a short distance away licking her fur, hissed out what could only be a snicker.
    “ ’Tis not that I can’t. I just don’t want to. I seem to be yearning for something more. And you misspeak in calling me a libertine, truly you do. I do not fornicate any more than the average Norseman.”
    “Which is an excessive amount.”
    I cannot believe I am having this conversation with my sister.
    She squeezed his arm and said, “Ragnor, methinks you are finally growing up. At the ripe old age of twenty and seven! Praise the gods! You need a soulmate, not just a bedmate.”
    “I take exception to that conclusion. Why is it that women always think the answer to every man’s problem is marriage? Soulmate? There is no such thing.”
    He had no chance to discuss the matter further because Madrene motioned over a house carl, who carried a tray with a large metal cup on it. When Ragnor recognized the contents, he protested, “Oh, nay. I could not … please … stop shoving it in my face, Madrene.” His sister forced to his lips her usual concoction for curing the aftereffects of the mead madness. It was warm and green and slimy. The fact that it usually worked was beside the point.
    “Stop being such a whineling.”
    “Yech!” he said as he swallowed the horrid mess all in one gulp. It landed in his stomach with a thud, and soon thereafter he began to feel better … once