The Viking Takes a Knight Read Free

since Kavil was a Nubian, with ebony skin.
    Kavil caught her eye and smiled back at her, a smile that did not reach his liquid brown eyes. It never did.
    What a dear boy he was! Too pretty by half, and for that reason had been misused by sodomites to whom his slave master had rented him out. His spirit and his body had been broken when they’d first found him. After a year, he was still not totally healed.
    From there, the entire group stopped at various booths, buying spices from far lands, a new cauldron, carved horn spoons, and straining cloths for making cheese. For the thirty children from ages one to fourteen currently at the orphanage, they had two cows for milk and butter, as well as chickens that produced a large number of eggs, agoat, and several sheep. Still, there were essentials they needed to purchase. Fortunately the orphanage was well funded by generous benefactors.
    A pottery booth drew her attention now. Behind the table was a petite woman with lustrous black hair and blue eyes. Although older than Ingrith, she was beyond beautiful.
    â€œAre you interested in some pots today, m’lady?” The woman smiled.
    â€œYea, I am.”
    â€œMy name is Joanna. Feel free to examine my wares.” With a sweeping hand, she indicated her items for sale, both on a long table, and on shelves behind her. Presumably she lived in the neat timbered house in back. Ingrith could see a kiln on the side. “If these are not to your liking, I can provide you with any size or shape of container you want.”
    â€œHmmm.” There were redware pots of all sizes and shapes, glazed and unglazed. Jugs, too. The most interesting were those that had been decorated before firing with flowers and other designs. “Years ago, I was in Jorvik. As I recall, there used to be a red-haired man in this spot.”
    â€œThat would be my husband, Gerald, who was a master potter. He died three years ago.”
    â€œMy sympathies. You are fortunate to have found another supplier for your wares.”
    â€œThat would be me,” she revealed, lifting her chin with pride. “Gerald taught me the craft, but it was my idea to add the decorations.”
    â€œThey’re lovely.”
    Joanna blushed prettily. “Thank you, m’lady.”
    â€œI need some of this size to store soft cheeses, like skyrr .” She pointed to two of the plain ones with wide mouths and lids. “And that one over there would make a wonderful gift for my sister Drifa. She loves flowers.” It was an urn, decorated with twining roses.
    After she paid for her goods with a halved silver coin, and while the woman wrapped her purchases in worn, rough cloth, Ingrith carried on a conversation for the sake of politeness. “Do you a thriving business here?”
    Joanna shrugged. “The stall on market days is busy, but I must close over the winter. I have steady orders from some customers, though, like a beekeeper in one of the northern shires who finds that size over there perfect for holding whole honeycombs.”
    â€œWould that be Lady Eadyth of Ravenshire?”
    Joanna’s blue eyes brightened. “Yea. Do you know her?”
    â€œMy family is well acquainted with hers.”
    Joanna continued to wrap the pots, then seemed to hesitate before asking, “Do you know Lady Eadyth’s son John?”
    John? She refers to him by his given name? “Do you mean Hawk? John of Hawk’s Lair?”
    Joanna’s face bloomed crimson with embarrassment. It could only mean that she knew John intimately. Was she his mistress? Ingrith had heard that men often sought widows for their mistresses, especially those not of the upper classes. Viking men took extra wives or concubines. Was that the case with John? Oh, good gods! Why should I care?
    Joanna picked up a tiny glazed clay pot the size of her fist and caressed the edges in a loving fashion. “Lord Gravely”—she used his formal name now, having