Page 108 of The Blue Viking

Rurik wasn’t so sure about that. Adventuring did not hold the great appeal it once had. And he had enjoyed the everyday humdrum of living at Beinne Breagha the short time he’d been here. Would it wax dull after a while? But, nay, thinking back on Maire’s tapestry and how he’d felt viewing the scene, he suspected that boredom would not be a problem.

“And a man who is incapable of love … well, what kind of relationship would that be for Maire?”

“Love, love, love! I am sick to my gizzard of folks telling me that I must be in love with Maire.”

Cailleach’s grizzled gray eyebrows went up at his vehement response. “Who has been telling you that?”

“Tykir … Alinor … Eirik … Selik … Jamie … everyone!”

Cailleach smiled widely at him then, as if he’d given the right answer, and Rurik didn’t even know what the question was.

“Down to the bone here, laddie,” Cailleach said then, reaching out to shake his hand in their potential agreement. “How much do ye hate the blue mark?”

“Immensely.”

“Will ye be leaving Scotland… in return for removal of the blue mark?”

He didn’t even hesitate before pulling his hand from her bony grip. “Nay!”

“Nay?”

“Nay!” Rurik had no idea what his answer meant. He just knew that he was not trading Maire for a perfect face, and that was what Cailleach’s offer meant. He didn’t think he would actually stay at Beinne Breagha, but in the future he wanted no one to say he’d sold his integrity for the price of vanity.

The witch rose from her seat then with a secretive smile, not as unhappy as Rurik would have expected. “I hope you know what this all means. You’ve just given yourself the key to unlock your dilemma.”

Huh? What key? What dilemma? He mulled over in his mind what the witch had been hinting at, and then he brightened with understanding. How could he have overlooked such a simple fact?

He gazed at Cailleach, who nodded at him, and murmured as she walked out, “Not as dumb as I thought he was … fer a Viking, that is.”

* * *

In the end, Rurik decided to resolve the impasse in the way of all Viking men. By brute force.

Maire had implied at one time that she’d like a knight in shining armor. Well, she was bloody well going to get one. The only difficulty was, the plated suit of armor he’d found in the castle guard room was not all that shiny; in fact, it was a mite rusty in spots.

But, damn, he felt good for the first time in what seemed an eternity … though it had only been less than a day. As a soldier, he was accustomed to aggressive action, not sitting back waiting for something to happen. Furthermore, he did not much like the mewling, pleading creature he’d become.

Yea, brute force was the best strategy. Actually, men throughout time had been resolving their dilemmas with women in much the same way. Hell, Adam had probably had to take Eve in hand a time or two also, before she got them kicked out of the Garden of Eden. Wasn’t that just like a woman, by the by?

Rurik was striding from the courtyard, through the great hall, with Stigand’s battle-ax over his shoulder. Who knew the damn thing was so heavy! Best he be careful of slipping or he might very well be minus a limb.

Hot springs of hell! but he was in a fine mood now that he’d resolved to settle this silly squabble with Maire. He didn’t even mind that people were stopping right and left to gape at him as he clanked and creaked on his way.

Jamie halted him in his path, however, looking weepy-eyed and little boyish.

He hunkered down to the boy’s level, almost whacking himself aside the head with the flat blade of the ax. Hunkering in a suit of armor was not very easy, he discovered, and he almost fell over. Adjusting the weapon to stand like a brace on the floor, he put one hand to Jamie’s drooping chin and lifted it. “What is it, son?”

“Are ye… are ye gonna chop off me mother’s head?”

Rurik almost laughed aloud at that, except that he could tell that the boy was serious. “Of course not. I would ne’er harm yer mother… I told you that afore.”

“Yer not?” Jamie blinked at him hopefully.

“Nay,” Rurik said, straightening and patting the boy, “I’m just going to chop down her door.”

Maire had just completed the tapestry and was putting away the needles and spare threads when she heard a loud—very loud—cracking noise at her locked door, followed immediately by another. In her surprise, she almost knocked over the entire tapestry frame.

There was a third cracking noise, which caused the door to shake on its hinges. She glanced over and saw the tip of a metal blade sticking through the wood, which immediately disappeared… on the backswing, she presumed.