Page 65 of The Bewitched Viking

Alinor listened carefully as the lawspeaker enumerated all the various crimes and their respective punishments, as dictated by Thing ritual. Adam sat at her side.

Tykir, Rurik and Bolthor had taken their seats in the half-circle of chieftains. Those of his hird who remained at Anlaf’s court—about seventy men—sat behind them, awaiting the Thing.

Apparently, Things handled a wide variety of disputes: murder, robbery, land ownership, divorce, rape, grazing and hunting rights, even such mundane conflicts as the wooing of bees or collection of firewood.

The lawspeaker would enumerate the punishment for whatever the crime. In some cases, the punishment was death or banishment. Sometimes the punishment involved the “eye for an eye” mentality. For example, the rape of one man’s wife could result in the rape of the rapist’s wife or daughter, or both. Most often, though, elaborate wergilds were levied, involving the payment of silver, wool, cows or other items of equivalent value.

“The wergild in the case of woman-theft demands the payment of bride-money,” the lawspeaker was explaining. “For a farmer’s daughter in prime with a maidenhead, fresh and strong and without blemish, the wergild would be thirty marten skins…and they must be winter pelts with no arrow holes. If the daughter be of a chieftain, however, there would be treble bride money paid, equal to up to ten quarter marks of silver.”

“And what would the wergild be for a Saxon lady?” Alinor asked Adam in an undertone. “A widow, thrice over, who is past her prime and with blemish, but still fresh and strong.”

“Thrice?” Adam exclaimed, then immediately ducked his head when he saw Tykir frown at them for conversing while the lawspeaker was still speaking. In a lower voice, he informed her, “A widow, even of high station, would bring less than the virgin farmer’s daughter. Unless she carries vast estates, that is.”

Alinor made a snorting sound of disgust. Actually, she had expected no less. Even her brothers did not place all that much value on her when bartering her in the marriage mart.

“Shhh,” Adam cautioned then.

The lawspeaker was detailing the various punishments that could be levied for witchcraft, and they were gruesome, indeed. Flaying the skin off the back. Death by sword drink. (She assumed that meant a sword through the heart or lungs, which caused blood to gurgle up through the throat.) Skewering the head on a pole. Nice image, that! Burning at the stake. Splitting the witch in half at the buttocks to search for the hidden tail. And something called the Spear Death, whereby twenty spears were planted in the ground and the witch was thrown onto the points of the lances, where she would lay till death overcame her, or she succumbed to the pecking of vultures.

“A bloodthirsty bunch, these Norsemen are.” Alinor murmured the words in a jesting way, but inside, she quivered with fright.

Adam patted her hand, and she could have kissed him with thanks.

Finally, it was time for the Thing to hear Alinor’s case.

“What crime has been committed here?” the lawspeaker asked.

“Witchcraft,” Analf answered, “by Lady Alinor of Graycote.”

“Deception. Failure to honor a commission. Betrayal. Theft,” Tykir answered at the same time, “by King Anlaf.”

Anlaf glared at him, and Tykir glared back.

Alinor was not about to sit back and let them do all the accusing. She stood, to the shock of those surrounding her, especially Adam, who was tugging on her gunna, trying to force her back to her seat. She dodged his grasp and announced her complaints. “Kidnapping. Torture. Starvation. Seasickness. Assault by constant sexual looks. Improper touching.”

Her complaints were met with hoots of laughter and congratulatory shouts directed at Tykir. Tykir, on the other hand, appeared as if he’d swallowed a barrel of gammelost.

“Improper touching? That is the best type,” one man pronounced, clapping his knee with glee.

“Can you show us how to give a sexual look?” another man made mock of Tykir, the whole time contorting his face into a ridiculous moon-eyed expression.

Adam managed to pull her back to the bench and told her with a short laugh, “Women aren’t supposed to address the Thing, unless given specific permission to do so.”

“Oh, now you tell me! I suppose my outburst will count against me in the voting.”

“I don’t know about that. Laughter is always a good sign.”

“Proceed,” the lawspeaker said, pointing his staff at Anlaf to go first. Easing himself tiredly into a nearby chair, the lawspeaker shook his head slowly from side to side, as if he knew this was going to be an impossible case.

Analf took a pose of arrogance, with wide shoulders thrown back and thumbs looped in his ornate belt, then commenced giving his distorted version of the events at St. Beatrice’s Abbey last year. He claimed that he and his men had merely stopped for food and drink and to rest their horses when the witch had placed her infamous curse on his manparts.

Alinor started to rise again to give the correct version of the encounter, but Adam placed a cautioning hand on her forearm.

“I but wish to tell the truth. The king is lying.”

“You will get your chance later.”

“Why would the woman curse you if you were doing no harm?” asked one burly Viking with gray-streaked black hair and piercing blue eyes.