Page 110 of The Caged Viking

I should have known. Kirstin again. He glanced down at Gorm’s hand which still clutched several of the objects in question, miniature shepherd’s crooks, except they were white with red stripes. Dozens of them had already been hung from the branches of the yule tree. Even from here, he could smell the not unpleasant minty odor.

Once they’d cleared the ladder away, throwing the pieces onto the hearth fires, Hauk looked around, wondering what to do next. It was only mid-afternoon. Ingolf was sitting at the other end of the hall beside his wife and daughters who were working on some type of embroidery. He waved, motioning for Hauk to join him in a cup of ale, but Hauk needed to do something more mind-consuming. He’d love to go off to some private place and drink himself into a stupor, but there was no private place he could think of, except for the treasure room, and he wasn’t about to hole himself in there at this time of day. Besides, getting drukkinn would only work for a short while; then he would have to face his problem once again. The most logical recourse would be to go to his bedchamber…the guest bedchamber…but that’s where his “problem” was currently lodged. Mayhap it was best to take the bull…um, his problem…by the horns. Mayhap it was time to break out of his “cage.” But he was a well-trained fighting man. He knew from experience that a warrior should not go to war unless he had a plan.

Hauk had no plan.

He also knew that warriors should be calm and collected before confronting the enemy, lest they be berserkers.

Hauk was no berserker.

And Kirstin was no enemy. Was she?

And forget calm and collected. He was as agitated as an unblooded boyling afore his first battle.

Without thinking, he stomped down the hall, through a corridor to the guest bedchamber, where he attempted to lift the latch. And found the door locked. From within. The latch would not move.

Should he knock?

Should he yell?

Should he kick the door down?

Just then, Signe rushed up, putting her forefinger to her closed lips. “Shh. Leave the mistress for now. She is not feeling well and needs to rest.”

“She dared to lock me out.”

“Nay. She did not lock the door against you. ’Twas all the others who kept coming to visit, giving her no chance to get better.” She gave him one last warning look and walked away.

Somehow the servants had become the master in this keep. One and all felt no compunction about telling him what to do. Even so, he inhaled and exhaled, then decided to go chop wood. A lot of wood.

He was not done with his errant wife, though. Not at all.

* * *

Animal Farm…

Kirstin awakened, feeling much better. The Tylenol she’d taken, on top of the stress exhaustion of her time-travel experience and Hauk’s less-than-welcoming welcome, had all combined to knock her into a deep, healing sleep. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was seven p.m. She must have been out of it for at least four hours.

It also became apparent to her, glancing at the closed, barred door, that Hauk hadn’t come to her. Tears welled in her eyes.

With a stifled sob, she figured she had three choices: Continue to lie in bed, nursing her hurt feelings. Go back to the future and Hauk be damned. Or fight for what she really wanted, the fool Viking.

Well, screw the self-pity, and screw capitulation. I am woman…I am Viking…hell, I am Viking woman. Just watch me roar, baby!

Kirstin rose from the bed furs and shivered, not from the cold virus, but from the chill in the bedchamber. Usually, the bedchamber door was left open in the winter, even when occupied, so that the heat from the hall hearth fires would spread inside this adjacent room. As she relieved herself, using a pottery jar from under the bed, she noticed the noise outside her door…the sound of loud conversation and laughter, even music, possibly a lute. She realized this was still Christmas day, and the people of Haukshire would be enjoying their Jul feast.

And no one had bothered to invite her.

No, no, no! No self-pity.

Besides, she reminded herself, I locked the door. Maybe Hauk knocked, and I didn’t hear him.

Yeah, right. Like a Norseman would let a locked door keep him from something he wanted.

Whatever!

Pouring some water from a pitcher into a bowl, she gave herself a quick sponge bath, using a piece of linen and the one and only bar of Dove lavender soap that she’d brought with her. After that, she put on her gown. It was made of silk in a shimmery silver color, with a green and red band along the edges of the rounded neckline and wrists and hem. Clearly a Christmas garment. A luxurious one, at that.

Luckily, it had a side zipper, which allowed her to fit the tight bodice over her breasts and abdomen, with a silver-plated belt cinching her waist. She would have to wear her athletic shoes, but they wouldn’t be visible under the long skirt.