Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 04] Read Online Free PDF Page B

for that long. What of the winter weaving? And the spring lambing? And the first shearing? I have more than a hundred sheep to care for here at Graycote.” She gave him a fulminating glower, then concluded, “’Tis impossible.”
    “You have no choice, my lady.”
    Well, we shall see about that. I don’t want to take drastic measures, but I will if you force my back to the wall, Viking. “Tell me again. Exactly which high Viking personage am I accused of cursing?”
    “Are there so many?”
    Are there so many? Alinor repeated snidely in her head. “No, there are not. I cannot remember even one.” She paused as a quick flash of memory came to her. “Except…oh, surely you do not refer to that Viking assault on St. Beatrice’s Abbey last year?”
    He nodded. “’Twas King Anlaf of Norway.”
    Her forehead furrowed with confusion. “I thought Haakon the Good was king of Norway.”
    “Well, yea, my uncle Haakon is the all-king of Norway, but there are many minor kings. My cousin Anlaf is the chieftain or low-king of a region in Trondelag.”
    “Your uncle…your cousin? Kings?” she sputtered.
    “At last! Now you understand.”
    “Understand? Why, that brute— your cousin —was about to rape Sister Mary Esme.”
    He shrugged. “And you put a curse on him.”
    “I did?”
    “And waved the magic veil?”
    “Which magic veil?”
    “The Virgin’s Veil. And, by the by, do not forget to bring the blue veil with you. Anlaf will want to see it when you remove the curse.”
    Alinor crossed her eyes with frustration. “That blue veil was my headrail, and I was not waving it. It fell off my head in the tussle to get the barbarian off of Sister Mary Esme.”
    “You jest.”
    “And another thing, I may have cursed the man, but I did not put a curse on him. There is a difference.”
    “Dost thou try to befuddle me with words?”
    That wouldn’t take much.
    “Did you or did you not proclaim, ‘By the Virgin’s Veil, may your manpart fall off if you do this evil thing’?”
    There was a long, speaking silence during which Alinor let his words sink in. Her face heated with embarrassment, then, as she asked, with awe, “And did his manpart fall off?”
    “Nay, it just took a right turn.”
    “It?”
    “His manroot.”
    “It did what? Oh, I can barely credit what you say. His manpart took a right turn?” Alinor choked with laughter.
    “It’s not funny,” he protested, slapping her heartily on the back to stop her choking.
    “Oh, yea, it is. But please,” she said, wiping at her tears with the edge of her headrail, “please do not tell me that you and that cloddish king think I would touch his… root .”
    Tykir waved a hand airily. “I know not of witchly rites for straightening a man’s lance. Touch it or touch it not, for all I care. Just remove the spell.”
    “And if I cannot do so?”
    “There are laws held sacred at the Things—our governing bodies—where witches can be stoned or drowned. If they are bad witches, that is.” He slitted his eyes to study her for a moment. “By the by, are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
    “Aaarrrgh!”
    “It matters not, actually. I misdoubt that Anlaf would wait for a Thing to be called if you cannot remove the curse.”
    “Oh?”
    “Anlaf will, no doubt, just lop off your head.”
     
    “You don’t have to watch me every blessed minute.”
    “Do I not?”
    “A big, fearsome warrior like you! What have you to fear from a harmless little female like me?”
    You were not harmless from the day you came squalling from the womb, I wager. Seems to me, I’ve heard that red hair and a shrewish temper go hand in hand. Or was thatjust something Bolthor put in one of his sagas? Enough! I waste my thoughts on nonsense.
    “’Tis good you noticed my impressive stature,” he said.
    Thor’s toenails! The nonsense in my head is spewing out my mouth now.
    “How could I not? You block the entire door.”
    He was leaning his shoulder, casually, against the