Santa Viking (3 page)

Once they have them, meek and mild,

Off they go in pursuit of men more wild.

Here is the moral of this ode:

Never let a woman turn you into a pet toad.

Despite the cheers of the crowd, he knew immediately that his poem was a mistake. He never should have underestimated the wiliness of a thwarted woman.

Katherine, now up at the head table, whispered in Alinor’s ear.

Alinor grinned like a cat that had swallowed all the cream and stood. “Great news! Katherine tells me that she has a talent for poems, too.”

The crowd burst into enthusiastic applause, encouraging her to put aside shyness and share her talent with them. Hah! This woman had not been shy a day of her life.

Katherine stood and glanced his way, batting her eyelashes as if in apology.

For what?

He soon found out.

Men, men, men!

When will they learn?

Women know what they do when out of sight.

They spit, they swear, they belch,

They gamble, lie, and break wind,

They swive, swive, swive.

And all the while, the miscreants

Leave wives and sweetlings at home.

Weeping with loneliness, sad of heart.

Hah!

Hear me well, all you errant men.

Methinks you would be surprised to learn

What the mice are doing whilst the cat is away.

The men in the hall seemed stunned into silence, but the ladies were hooting and cheering with glee.

A red-faced Bolthor looked at Katherine with new eyes, and began to ponder,
Just how ironclad is my vow?

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
 . . .

“He is the one,” Katherine declared.

“Are you sure?” Alinor asked.

“There are so many men to choose from,” Eadyth pointed out. “The wisest course would be to take your time and meet them all.”

“Bolthor is the one I want,” Katherine insisted.

“Some would say his skaldic skills make him an object of humor, not desire,” Alinor pointed out in a kindly fashion. “Do his poems not bother you?”

Katherine frowned. “Why would they?”

“To put it plainly, they stink.”

A gasp was Katherine’s answer to that remark. “Surely you jest. His poems are wonderful. ’Tis one of the things I like best about him.”

Alinor and Eadyth exchanged looks of surprise.

“And what are the other things you like about him?” Eadyth inquired.

“He is good with children.”

“Ahhhh,” both Alinor and Eadyth said, acknowledging that fondness for children was a great attribute for a husband, especially when the children were not his.

“And what else?” Alinor prodded.

“There is a sorrow deep inside him that calls to my woman sympathies.” Katherine placed a hand over her heart, just thinking about it.

“There is?” Alinor’s eyebrows were raised with disbelief. “Other than his recent bout of verse mood blockage, I have rarely seen Bolthor sad of spirit.”

“Oh, ’tis there, of that I am certain. No doubt due to the tragic death of his wife and daughters.”

“
What
?” Alinor and Eadyth exclaimed as one.

“In all the years I have known Bolthor, ne’er have I met a wife or daughter, or heard mention of such,” Alinor mused.

“’Twas a long, long time ago, and apparently their manner of death was soul searing.”

“Hmmm.” Eadyth put a fingertip to her mouth in contemplation. “It makes sense, though. ’Tis not normal for a Viking man to go unwed for so long.”

“Do not mention it to anyone,” Katherine cautioned. “If he has kept it secret, he must not want others to know.”

“And yet he told you,” Alinor said, also with a forefinger tapping her closed lips.

“Of course, I am no longer a young woman, and I now know that appearance is the least important attribute for a husband, but, by the saints! The man is bone-melting handsome.” Katherine nigh swooned just picturing Bolthor in her mind.

“Good Lord!” Alinor remarked.

“Yea, Bolthor most definitely must be the one for you.” Eadyth patted Katherine on the hand.

“That settles it. We must needs come up with a plan,” Alinor added.

“I thought you already had a plan
 . . .
Bolthor’s Bride
,” Katherine said.

“Yea, but now that we have settled on exactly who that bride will be, we must needs have a new plan to snare the man, without his realizing that he is being snared.”

“I see,” Katherine said, though she truly did not. “Keep in mind, Bolthor says he will not wed again.”

Alinor and Eadyth both laughed.

“What?”

“Surely you know that smart women know how to change a man’s mind,” Alinor explained.

“They do?” Katherine felt out of her depth with these two wily women. “How?”

“First off, you must avoid Bolthor, but not be out of sight. Let him see you with other men. Let him think you are interested, or even intimate, with other men.” This was Alinor’s advice. “Men always want what they cannot have.”

“It sounds so
 . . .
devious.”

“Hah! I pretended I was a witch one time,” Alinor said. “Now that is devious.”

“That is nothing. I pretended to be dead.” Eadyth laughed in remembrance. “Believe you me, that brought Eirik to heel in an instant. Then, too, I pretended to be an aged crone before that.”

Not to be outdone, Alinor said, “I tied Tykir to a chair, by his own hair. Naked.”

“But do not think that women are the only ones to play this game. Eirik told me one time that the best way for a woman to make a man’s staff stand to attention was for her to stand on her head, naked.”

Alinor hooted her opinion of that lackwit theory.

Katherine clicked her mouth shut when she realized she was gaping.

“You must learn to tease, subtly,” Alinor suggested. “By dress, for example.” She pinched in the waist of Katherine’s gunna, then showed her how to pleat the fabric just up to and under her breasts so that her waist, the flare of her hips, and her bosom were outlined.

“I would appear wanton.” Katherine had never dressed in such a provocative manner. Why would she? She had been wed more times than she would have chosen, to men she would as soon repel as attract.

“That is the point,” Eadyth said. “But not in a blatant manner. Tease, but do not flaunt.”

Katherine let out an exhale of frustration, not sure if she could manage this game of seduction.

“That is not all,” Alinor went on.

Wonderful!

“When you do come into his presence, by accident, brush against him, then blush and apologize profusely,” Alinor suggested.

“She could even touch him in passing
 . . .
his thigh, a buttock, even his manpart,” Eadyth added.

“Yea, that would be good.”

“How subtle would that be?” Katherine observed.

“Believe me, you could do it in such a way as to appear by chance,” Alinor said. “Stand over here, Eadyth, and pretend you are Bolthor. We will demonstrate.”

Eadyth stood stiff as a board, frowning, while Alinor brushed past her, carrying a bundle of linens that she almost dropped, but in the process of balancing herself, let her fingertips brush across the groin area. Immediately, she said, “My apologies, Bolthor,” and batted her eyelashes innocently.

Several other scenarios were played out. Alinor being pushed against Bolthor in a crowd and “accidentally” grabbing his buttock. “Bolthor” reaching for a sweetmeat on her tray, which she jerked at the last second, causing his hand to caress her breast.

“Of course, if all else fails, bed the man, good and well,” Eadyth advised.

“There is one bedsport trick I have learned,” Alinor said, “which is guaranteed to make a man’s eyes roll back in his head.”

Eadyth and Katherine were all ears, not to mention a few of the passing maids.

In the end, they were all laughing like lackwits.

Bolthor did not stand a chance.

Katherine hoped.

Viking men aren’t as dumb as you might think
 . . .

Watching from across the room where they were cleaning their weapons, Eirik and Tykir said as one, “Uh-oh!”

“Methinks you are in big trouble, Bolthor,” Eirik elaborated.

“Huh? Why me?”

“My wife has that sly look in her eyes,” Tykir noted. “That usually means she is up to no good
 . . .
especially regarding men
 . . .
or me in particular.”

“Why is it not you this time?” Bolthor asked.

“Because it is Katherine they are advising, and everyone knows that Katherine wants you.” Eirik continued polishing his sword as he spoke.

“Everyone does not know that,” Bolthor protested, putting aside the long knife he had been honing with a hand-held whetstone. “She is considering the merits of every unattached male here.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Tykir laughed at what he must consider Bolthor’s naiveness. He tested the sharpness of his sword by slicing a thin sliver off the edge of the table.

“Did I ever tell you my ‘Ode to Sly Women’?”

Tykir groaned before catching himself. “You have certainly gotten over your verse mood famine,” he grumbled.

“Perchance Katherine is the cause of his new wordiness,” Eirik teased.

“Hear one and all, this is the ‘Ode to Sly Women’,” Bolthor began.

Most men think they are so smart

And indeed they are,

But put them in a room with women,

And all wit goes out the smoke hole.

Women are sly and not above tricks

When it comes to catching a man.

Beware of swaying hips, jiggling breasts,

Bouncing backsides, slippery tongues,

Proffered kisses, lewd talk, sloe eyes,

Sweet scented skin, low-cut gunnas,

Exposed ankles
 . . . 

Tykir cut him off with a laugh. “Well, you certainly covered all points with that poem. In truth, it caused my juices to boil. Methinks I will go drag Alinor to our bedchamber and see how sly she can be.”