Page 5 of Viking Warriors: Vol. 1-3
Their mothers busy about their tasks, the children peeped through their fingers, watching the strangers sculpt animals from the wood we’d collected. Small hands reached out shyly to receive them.
They’re skilled, these Northmen. You’ve only to look at their boats to see that. I wondered if one of these men had carved the dragon’s head at the front of their boat, eyes bulging and teeth bared.
Helka advised me to stay in my room. My husband’s body had been removed, his blood clumsily wiped away. I mopped the rest with rags, all the while listening to the roar of the hall, the squeals of the women as the Northmen laid hands upon them. Their lust was unleashed with the ale, their blood quickened beyond all reason. A table was not just for eating from but for fucking upon, and woe betide any woman in arm’s reach.
The thought was terrifying, but those imaginings stirred me too. I blushed with shame, though I was alone, with no one to condemn me.
I fingered the mushroom in my pocket. How easy it would have been to place in the stew eaten by the Northmen. One Death’s Cap held enough poison to kill ten men, to incapacitate all.
Yet, I had not. I’d kept it hidden. What had I been thinking? I regretted it now.
It was well into the evening when he came for me, the Northman Eirik, lurching through my door, thick-headed.
When he grasped me about the arm, I bit his wrist, but he swung me up over his shoulder as easily as I might a pheasant or a hare.
The sight of him filled me with hate, but something else too. Some strange jolt through my body, and the quickening of my pulse; fear and excitement in equal measure.
“Join us,” he declared. “Drink with us.”
It wasn’t the bed he took me to but the hall, pausing on the way to relieve himself, pissing in the mud. He sang as the urine spattered, some song of his people. His shoulder rested awkwardly against my stomach and I wished he’d hurry up, so that he might put me down, despite my wariness for what lay ahead.
There was a cheer as we entered, and Eirik paraded me, still balanced on his shoulder. Helka rose and gave an apologetic smile, as he placed me in the chair she’d occupied. It appeared that even her influence had its limit. She whispered in her brother’s ear and he nodded, before she left. So much for her friendship, if that’s what we’d begun to share. She was as bad as any of them.
Eirik passed me his cup and gestured for me to drink. I’d have as soon thrown it in his face, but that I was thirsty. He looked at me as I drained it, taking the plait of my golden hair in his hand, stroking its length approvingly.
Untying the cloth that secured its end, he unravelled the strands, so that my hair hung free.
“Up now,” said Eirik. “Dance for us.”
He gestured, pushing beneath my elbow, but I refused to move. I was no performing minstrel, to entertain. Impatient, he lifted me about the waist, to sit where his plate had been. I slapped him: a good blow across the cheek that must have smarted. His men laughed all the harder to see it and, despite my fear, I thrilled with my own bravery. Whatever happened, I would not simply lie back and open my legs this time.
His look was stern for a moment, but reverted to indulgence, and amusement.
He called for his cup to be replenished and raised it in a toast, speaking his own language, addressing the hall at large. The words meant nothing to me, but were clearly at my expense, for his declaration raised a mighty chorus, and much stamping of feet.
Eyes glinting, he moved closer, to where I sat upon the table’s edge. As he began to unbuckle his trousers, I raised my knee, giving him a crack to his tender parts. At that, there were more cheers but, this time, I knew they were for me. Jumping from the table, I grasped Eirik’s cup, holding it aloft to be refilled, claiming my own victory. If I showed fearlessness, would I not earn their respect?
It was Faline who approached, my own cousin, the only child of my recently departed husband. I’d not seen her since that morning, and had noted then that she, of all the women, was most composed. She had no tears for her father and I’d wondered then if the rumours had been true, that he’d visited her, unbidden, in her bed before my body became his. I’d heard my aunt and grandmother whispering of such things, long ago.
Faline’s bodice was unlaced, her breasts half exposed above, the fabric of her chemise torn. I could only guess at how the preceding hours had been spent. Her eyes were as wild as her hair, dark and dangerous. She filled my cup and then set down her jug.
She climbed, barefoot, onto the long table in the centre of the room, and began to sway her hips, all the time her eyes upon those of Eirik, who had sat back upon his chair, face red with annoyance.
Faline had never been married. She’d been promised to someone of importance, from the garrison town, under her father’s instruction. Inconveniently, her betrothed had fallen fatally from his horse a week before the wedding day. Her father, my husband, had been obliged to plan anew, and no suitor wealthy or influential enough had yet been found for the match.
Yet, Faline moved like a woman well-familiar with the marriage bed. She raised her skirts as she danced, stepping ever closer, towards Eirik, until she was no more than an arm’s length from where we sat.
She dipped low, bending her knees and sitting upon her haunches, her skirts swept aside to expose herself. Her bush, thick and curling, and the slash of her cunt, red, open and wet. She splayed her lips with her fingers, inviting him to look into her, and to see the salted-slickness of the men who’d entered her already.
I’d never seen inside another woman, not even in childbirth. It was the older women who helped with such things, not I.
Eirik’s expression was intent. What man would not have been caught under her spell?
He released himself, letting his trousers drop to the floor, displaying his cock, fully erect, glistening at the tip. It matched the size of him: giant in stature, and giant of pike. No doubt, he was proud of it, for he gave a thrust into the air, which raised another cheer from the men around us. There was much banging on the table, and the serving girls were beckoned to refill cups swigged dry.
Eirik cleared the table all before him and invited Faline to approach, one hand already on his member, stroking it in readiness.
I shrank back, pushing my chair as far from them as I could, appalled at the brazenness of her. As she leaned in, she glared at me and I realized it was a look of triumph, as if I were her rival, and she had won a victory over me.
