Page 24 of The Caged Viking

Meanwhile, he heard Kirstin screeching at Sweyn, “Friendly fire, is it, you idiot? These are your fellow Vikings, and they have important information for you. Are you blind? Or just the usual thick-headed macho man?”

“Watch your words, wench, lest I slice off your tongue which outruns good sense. Like the usual lamebrain woman who knows naught of warfare and man business but thinks she must wag her tongue nonetheless!” He turned to one of his comrades-in-arms and asked, “What is a match-ho?” which gained him a shrug.

“Wench? Did you call me a wench? I’ll have you know I have a doctorate degree in higher education. I have more smarts in my little finger than you have in your whole hairy body.”

“Was that an insult?” Sweyn asked the same aide. And gained another shrug.

But then, Hauk, who had still been lying atop the mare in front of Kirstin, slid off the horse and stood, leaning against the animal for balance, momentarily, before stepping forward. “Greetings, Sweyn. ’Tis past time you got here. I was beginning to think I would have to fight the bloody Saxons on my own.”

“Hauk? Is that you, Hauk? Not so handsome anymore, eh? I heard you were living in a cage. I can see it must be true. I can smell you from here. Ha, ha, ha! The skalds will be busy for years telling tales of The Caged Viking. Ha, ha, ha! I heard you tried to eat through the bars.” Sweyn dismounted and began to walk toward them.

“And I heard your third wife divorced you for a younger, more cock-worthy Viking,” Hauk countered.

“’Twas just a rumor. I still have only two wives,” then added under his breath, “which is two too many.”

“Just so you know, you do not smell like flowers, either, Sweyn. More like horse and sennights of brewed man-sweat.”

The two men laughed and embraced in a manly hug.

“Will you join us in the fight?” Hauk asked.

“You could not stop me if you tried.”

“My sword, Neck Biter, has a hunger for Saxon blood.”

“Sorry, but I get first claim on the king’s fool head. I plan to mount it on the prow of my longship for the sharks and sea birds to nibble on as I journey home.”

“Methought you would like to put him in a cage.”

“There is merit in that idea, too. Naked, wearing his bloody crown.”

“Mayhap I would spare him to you for that purpose, but only if you give me a limb or two for keepsakes.”

“Will an eyeball do?”

“Men!” Kirstin muttered from where she still sat atop the sorry-looking mare.

But they all heard her and turned to stare.

“And who is this wench?” Sweyn asked.

Hauk rolled his eyes and revealed, “My wife. A gift from Aethelred.”

“Wedlock? For you who always disdained the chains of matrimony? And I thought the cage had been your greatest torture!”

Egil could understand Sweyn’s misthinking about Hauk’s marital history. Not many people knew that the master had married a Saxon lady all those years ago, never having lived with her or taken her to his home. And then she’d died. It was as if she’d never existed. Except for…

“’Twas my second greatest torture. My greatest torture was riding the skies in a magical whirlwind.”

“Was that you?” Sweyn inquired, throwing his head back to laugh uproariously. “Methought ’twas an omen from the gods prophesying my upcoming luck in battle.”

“Nay. ’Twas me. And my wenchy wife.” Or did he say “witchy”? Egil wasn’t sure.

Hauk looked at Kirstin to see if she was amused at his words.

She was not, the frown on her face a clear clue to her displeasure.

So Hauk glared at her, no doubt remembering that he should be displeased over the manner of his escape from the Saxon castle and her spouting off her opinions to Sweyn.