Steinn Read online

  “Damn it,” she muttered.

  Undeterred, she rushed back to her house. Once inside, she silently retrieved Steinn’s trousers. They were worn leather, and one of the belt hooks had broken. She turned them inside out.

  Very carefully, and using the rag he’d shoved into her mouth the day before, she rubbed the inside of his trousers with the nettles, scrubbing especially into the groin area and ensuring many of the tiny poison hairs detached onto the leather.

  She smiled. With a bit of luck, this would stop him wanting to fuck for a few days, and when it wore off she’d do it again; he wouldn’t be any the wiser. She could keep doing this for weeks, until he gave up and went away.

  He let out a deep snore and rolled onto his back.

  She froze.

  Please don’t wake up.

  His breathing continued as before, and she was swift to finish her task. Congratulating herself, she turned the trousers the right way around and placed them back where he’d left them.

  She then set about making a fire, not being quiet because now she was impatient for him to wake and his suffering to begin.

  She smiled as the flames licked the base of a pot of water, but when she went to sit and her arse pained her, a scowl quickly pulled at her features.

  The sooner he gets those trousers on, the better.

  She tossed another log onto the fire, then toppled a clay jug on the hearth. It clattered though luckily didn’t break. She’d lost two pots yesterday trying to keep Steinn out of her house.

  “Mmm, what…?” Steinn muttered, sitting.

  He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and yawned. His hair was mussed, and he had a sleep line on his cheek. He rested his hands on the bed behind himself and grinned. “Good morn, sweet wife of mine.”

  “Herby infusion?” she asked briskly.

  “If that is what you are making.”

  “It is.” She resisted glancing at his trousers. Her heart was racing with the excitement of seeing him put them on. “Come and get it.”

  And get dressed.

  He yawned again, then flung the fur to one side to expose his nakedness. Standing, he reached his arms up, touched the ceiling, and arched his back in a full body stretch. He moaned at the same time, as though enjoying the kinks in his spine releasing.

  “Ah, it is good to sleep on a bed after much time on a boat. Crossbeams do not make for a good mattress.”

  “Your drink.” She dragged her attention from his body.

  Much as she despised him, there was no denying he was a fine specimen of a man. His muscles were toned, and he was in perfect proportion, even if everything was on the large side.

  “I need to pee,” he said, dropping his arms and striding past her, his cock shifting with each step.

  To her horror, he went to the door, pulled it open, and stepped outside.

  “Steinn!”

  “What, wife?” He turned and grinned.

  “Someone might…” She waggled her hand at his groin.

  “What?”

  “See.”

  “See what?”

  “You, your…thing?”

  He chuckled. “That doesn’t bother me, and they might like it.” His laugh deepened, and he went from view.

  She clasped her hands beneath her chin, rolled her eyes Heavenward, and sent a quick apologetic prayer to God for the shockingly low morals of her new husband.

  When he came back in, she had his infusion poured.

  “Ah, this is good,” he said, reaching for the mug.

  “No.” She held it out of reach. “I must insist you get dressed first. It is not proper to sit around naked.”

  He hesitated, surveyed her, then, “I am willing to go along with your traditions.”

  “It is not a tradition, it is common decency.”

  “Common decency.” He leaned forward and cupped her chin. “Is not something I’m familiar with.”

  “I can tell.”

  “You’ll have to teach me.”

  “I’m not sure you will ever learn, being the barbarian that you are.”

  “Barbarian?”

  She glared at him.

  “So,” he said, licking his lips. “If I am to learn about common decency, tell me, would it be decent to put my cock in your mouth now?”

  She gasped. “No, it would not!”

  “And why not?”

  “Because…because…”

  He smiled. “You are my wife. Your body is mine, and that includes your mouth.”

  She swallowed. Her tongue had stuck to her palate. “Please, drink your steeped herbs.”

  He huffed. “I think you, too, need to learn common decency if you cannot explain it, wife.” He reached for his trousers.

  Gladys’s heart tripped over itself as he stepped into them and pulled the material upwards. As they slid over his knees, thighs, cock, and buttocks his expression didn’t change.

  Please let it work.

  He did up the button then reached for his drink again. He took a sip. “Mmm, this is good.”

  “Aye, it is.”

  “But I prefer mead.” He scratched his groin. “Not this morn, though. Brandr is planning a visit to your unfriendly neighbours.”

  “He is?”

  “Ja.” He shifted from one foot to the other and frowned.

  “And you are going?”

  “Of course.” Again he scratched his groin, then he rubbed his left thigh.

  “There will be fighting?” she asked.

  “Blood will spill. We will not have thieves visiting what is now our village and stealing from us and our women.” He took a fast sip of his drink, then set it down on the table with a bump. A splash flew over the side. “Damn it.”

  “What?” She bit on her bottom lip to contain a smile.

  He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, shoved his hands down the back of his trousers, and scratched his buttocks.

  “Is there something wrong, Steinn?”

  “No…yes…” He moved his hands to the front of his trousers and appeared to adjust then scratch his cock and balls. “For the love of Thor.” He undid his trousers and shoved them down, scratching his thighs.

  “What are you doing?” She stood.

  “You might be hoping I have a mind to fuck you again, before I go, wife, but I cannot.”

  As if.

  “Why?” Now she was struggling to hold in a grin and a giggle.

  “There is something in these trousers. It must have crawled in the night. Do you have biting ants here?”

  “No…I mean…aye, sometimes. You think they’re in your trousers?”

  He grimaced, rubbed his thighs, then fisted his shaft.

  “Can I help?”

  “The last thing a man needs when he’s going to fight is a burning cock.”

  “Burning cock?” Her eyes widened.

  “Get me water…from the well.”

  “Aye.” She walked past him, slowly. The minute she was out of view, she grinned. Seeing him hopping around was funny. It was also only the start of what she had planned.

  She fetched water, taking her time and listening to the cockerel. Villagers were stirring now, smoke coming from several chimneys, and a few women tending goats and lambs.

  With the pail half full, Gladys wandered back to the house.

  Once inside, she was greeted with the sight of a naked Steinn shaking out his trousers. He’d turned them inside out and was flapping them so wildly dust was spinning through the air, motes twirling in the streak of sunlight coming through the open window.

  “I can’t see any ants,” he said.

  “Maybe they’ve run away.”

  He frowned at her. “I would have seen them?”

  She shrugged.

  “Give me that pail.” He snatched it from her hand and sloshed water onto his cock, rubbing it around his balls then down his thighs.

  “You could do that outside,” she said, pointing at the wet floor.

  He grunted, picked
his trousers up, and took them outside along with the rest of the water.

  The sound of him splashing and muttering had her smiling again. She rubbed her hands together, added kindling to the fire, then spotted the small clay jar of salt on the shelf.

  Silently congratulating herself on another great idea, she reached for a spoon, then added two heaps of salt into his herbal infusion. She gave it a quick stir then sat, carefully, in her chair.

  After a few minutes he came back indoors, red-cheeked and wearing his wet trousers inside out. “Damn ants,” he said. “I’ll have to remember not to leave my trousers on the floor in this place.”

  “Aye, that would be wise.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Why don’t you drink and rest awhile, then I will collect more eggs and make you breakfast?”

  “Gladys,” he said, his shoulders relaxing and a smile tugging his mouth. “You are a wife with good ideas.” He reached for the mug. “The gods have been kind to me.”

  He took a big slug. Instantly he spurted it out in a fine spray that landed over the fire, sizzling as the flames took it. “Odin’s balls!” He coughed and spluttered.

  A huge belly-swelling laugh threatened to overcome Gladys, but she managed to contain it.

  “What on this earth…” He tossed the tankard out of the door, the contents arcing through the air. “…have you done to that?”

  “I don’t ken what you mean.”

  “Salt. There’s salt in the drink.”

  She stood. “Just a sprinkle.”

  “Why?” He held out his palms. “In the name of Thor, why?”

  “It is tradition. It brings good fortune when going to battle.”

  “Salty infusion?” He frowned and spat into the fire. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

  “Aye, and now you will have good fortune, husband of mine. For I’d hate to see anything happen to you when you are going to fight.” She picked up her egg basket.

  “Gladys.” He snatched her wrist.

  She sucked in a breath, the strength of his hold as intimidating as ever.

  “Thank you.” He brushed his lips over her cheek. “For fetching me water to wash and for the salty good fortune.” He touched the tip of his nose to hers. “It warms my heart to know you care.”

  7

  Gladys waited until the new menfolk had left the village to visit Nechtain and Eanfrith, then headed into the sprawling forest alone.

  She had a dagger in her belt, a lidded reed basket over her arm, and an empty woollen pouch tied to her gown. There were things she must collect, and she must do it with no other eyes upon her.

  But it was a dangerous time to be in the woods. Mother bears were fiercely protective of their cubs, hungry packs of wolves and bad-tempered boar roamed the glens and glades, and then there were the men of Eanfrith and Nechtain who had no morals and violence in their blood.

  Angus had always insisted she go out with three or four other women—safety in numbers, he’d said. She’d heeded his advice, but as Steinn had told her nothing otherwise, she decided to make this trip on her own.

  The summer’s fresh new leaves were fragrant and fluttered in a light breeze. Underfoot it was dry for the first time in a long time, revealing deer tracks in the dust. Around her flowers—dryas, asphodel, cornel—nodded their heads, and she thought she caught a glimpse of a long-limbed roe melt into the trees.

  She saw green dragonfly, emerald beetles, and brown hairy caterpillars. A red squirrel scampering through the canopy made her jump, and a goshawk, its diamond breast flashing, wheeled and dipped through the branches, its wings utterly silent on its search for prey.

  Just as she was searching now.

  She headed west, keeping a lookout for the small yellow flowers she needed for her next plan. Pausing in a hollowed-out clearing, she tipped her face to the sun and enjoyed the heat on her cheeks. It was so peaceful, so calming after the chaos of home and Steinn’s big intrusive presence. The spring day was a salve to her nerves. It straightened her thoughts and firmed up her resolve.

  To get rid of him.

  She continued her walk, hoping it wouldn’t be much farther.

  As she stepped into the midge-dotted shadows, she paused. Before her was a deep crack in the earth. Peering to the right, she saw a huge boulder slicing downwards. In a small rivulet was a stream of water. She guessed at one point it had been much bigger, a full-sized waterfall, and had eroded the land.

  The gash was deep and dangerous, likely water-filled at the base, too.

  She stepped around it, a sour taste filling her mouth at the very thought of plunging into it, now, alone, with no one to hear her cries for help. It would be a certain death.

  Suppressing a shudder, she went on her way.

  Before long, she spotted what she was looking for. Little, yellowish flowers with slim black lines on their petals. She rushed over to them, withdrawing her dagger. Within seconds her pouch was stuffed full of henbane, the dagger blade shiny with fluid from the stalks.

  Some of the villagers added henbane to mead to make it stronger. Myrna, the healer, had been known to use it for toothache, earache, and pains in the stomach. But Gladys had a different plan. Her mother had shown her how to prepare it for dreams—awake-dreams—to be used on the summer and winter solstice. Once Gladys had secretly taken some, it had made her mind float from her body. She’d seen horses with horns, rainbows had streamed through every candle’s flame, and she’d laughed and danced as if she were made of air tripping along on a spring breeze.

  Her father had been cross, said if she’d taken too much, she’d have been dead.

  Which was exactly what was going to happen to Steinn.

  She stood, pleased with her stash.

  It was then she saw it. A small black-and-yellow rope, diamond patterned, basking in the sun.

  Adder.

  It was only young, but Gladys knew this snake to be deadly. A friend’s cousin had been bitten when he was five and buried the next day.

  This would make her plan foolproof.

  The creature appeared sleepy and barely stirred when she lay her basket on its side in the grass. It took two pokes of her dagger to get it moving, though when it did it went quickly and she jumped.

  Luckily the shadow of the basket had appealed to the creature, and within seconds Gladys had it trapped and the lid secured down with her blade.

  “Right, little one, you have a very important job to do.” She laughed and set off for home. “You are going to bite a big, dumb Viking and get rid of him for me.”

  Halfway to home she noticed bear dung. Pausing, she looked around, hoping not to see big brown eyes staring at her from the shadows of the trees. Luckily, she didn’t, and she hastened her speed.

  Once back in the cottage, she set the basket in the corner ensuring the lid was secure. The last thing she needed was a deadly snake on the loose in her home.

  Then she set to cleaning out the fire and preparing it for nightfall. As she swept the stone floor, she hummed a tune she’d heard her mother sing. Setting about her tasks outside, she chatted to the chickens and goats, enjoying their company and pausing to pet them.

  Back in the house, she prepared bread dough and placed it aside for proofing, then she prepared a mutton and carrot stew, though afterwards she wondered why she’d bothered. When she was a new widow, the other women of the village would bring her sustenance, believing her to be too grief-stricken to be able to think of cooking.

  She laughed. How little they knew.

  Late in the day, after darkness had fallen, the Vikings returned.

  Gladys stood in the doorway of her home, holding a horn of herbal brew and watched someone being half carried, half dragged into the village.

  Eithne rushed from her seat around a central fire and gave sharp shouts for help.

  Gladys stayed where she was and hoped it was Steinn who needed assistance. Haps her job would be done for her.

  But no. It was Brandr who was injured.

/>   “Myrna, come quick,” Eithne called, then to the two men helping her new husband, “Take him to my cottage, we will tend him there.”

  As they passed by, Gladys stepped forward. The distress on Eithne’s face pained her. It was clear her childhood friend really did adore her new husband. She hoped for her sake Brandr lived, but the sight of him was shocking. It was plain to see Heaven awaited him—if Vikings went to Heaven.

  “He is dying,” she said to Eithne, not wishing the other woman to have false hope.

  Eithne paused and glared at her, then carried on her way.

  “Wife. I am home.” Steinn suddenly appeared before her. He had dirt on his cheek, his headband was crooked, and his sword smeared with crusting blood.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked, frowning.

  “No, your good fortune tradition worked.” He scooped her close and lifted her feet clear from the ground. He set his lips over hers and spun her in a circle.

  “Get off,” she said, tearing her mouth from his and pushing at his shoulders. “Put me down.”

  “Ah, is it not common decen…decen…”

  “Common decency, and no, it is not.”

  “Then we will go inside. I am hungry.” He set her feet on the ground.

  “Brandr is hurt,” she said, watching the village’s new Viking leader being helped indoors.

  “He is.” Steinn scowled. “But we must have belief that all will be well.”

  “Myrna is very skilled.”

  “Skill has little to do with it. If it is the gods will that Jarl Brandr joins them in Valhalla this night to sup with them, then that will be the case, and all will be well.”

  “Valhalla is Viking Heaven?”

  “Ja.”

  “And you think you will go there one day?”

  “Ja, and I look forward to it. There will be much feasting and sex with beautiful Valkyrie.”

  “You think you’ll have sex when you die?”

  “Of course.” He grinned. “It smells good in here. What are you cooking, wife?”

  “Mutton stew.”

  He peeled off his tunic and exposed his bare chest. His torso and arms were also smeared with dirt and blood. “I will wash before we eat.”