Free Viking by Connie Mason Page A

house that served as a lavatory, and then showed her where she could wash her hands and face. When she returned she was put to work stirring oats while other thralls placed large pitchers of both fresh and sour milk and food on the tables. Rounding out the meal of cooked oats were smoked fish, hard-boiled eggs, bread, butter and honey.
    Sleeping warriors and karls were awakening and moving to the table to eat. Soon Thorne and his father and brother arrived. Bretta was the last to be seated. She asked for soft-cooked eggs, toasted bread and buttermilk, and the thralls moved quickly to obey. Fiona bent to pour buttermilk into Bretta’s pewter mug. As she leaned toward Bretta, the Viking woman hissed a warning into her ear.
    “I know where you spent the night. When I am Thorne’s wife you will not be so bold.”
    “Speak to your betrothed,” Fiona returned. “I but obey his orders.”
    “Did he please you in bed?” Bretta asked crudely. “A man his size must surely possess a mighty weapon.”
    Fiona had readied a scathing retort, but then she saw Brann shaking his head in warning. So she swallowed her biting reply and hurried away. Did everyone in the hall either hate or fear her?
    Suddenly Bretta spat out a mouthful of buttermilk, startling her table companions. “The witch is trying to poison me! The milk is tainted.”
    Fiona heard Bretta’s cry of distress and whirled. She hadn’t understood what Bretta said but she knew it must be bad, for everyone in the hall was staring at her in fear and outrage. Some were even clutching their stomachs and turning green.
    “What nonsense is this?” Thorne roared, glaring at Fiona. “Have you poisoned the milk, wench?”
    “Is that what Bretta said? I refuse to answer so ridiculous a charge,” Fiona declared.
    “You
will
answer,” Thorne returned. “Did you poison the milk?”
    “Nay! Had I thought of it, I might have,” she added injudiciously. “Your betrothed has a fertile imagination, Lord Viking.”
    “ ’Tis poisoned, I tell you,” Bretta insisted.
    To settle the matter, Thorne seized the mug and drank the contents down without stopping. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and calmly returnedto his meal. Truth to tell, Thorne didn’t know if the milk was tainted or not, but he was willing to take the chance to stop the speculation about Fiona’s powers. He was convinced that she had the power to bewitch a man, but he didn’t believe she would use her powers to kill a man … or woman. When everyone saw that Thorne seemed to have no ill effects from the milk, talk resumed and the meal commenced.
    Olaf was far from reassured. “Are you well, son?” he asked Thorne in a hushed voice.
    “I am well, Father. I doubt that Fiona would harm a fellow human. She is a healer. She uses her powers for good.”
    “Do you consider being bewitched a good thing?” Olaf argued. “Have you convinced Fiona to remove her spell?”
    “Nay, Father. Fiona continues to insist that she placed no spell upon me. But the fact remains that I am no less captivated now than I was the first moment I set eyes on her. I have to believe that in time she will free me.”
    Olaf muttered to himself but said nothing more. He’d wait to pass judgment.
    Fiona went about her serving chores as if nothing had happened. But she knew in her heart that Bretta’s accusation had planted seeds of doubt in the minds of these barbarians. She was surprised at Thorne’s reaction, however. Was he finally ready to believe that she was not a witch? It was brave of him to drink the buttermilk if he still thought she had dark powers.
    “Come sit with me a moment,” Brann said after everyone had been served.
    Fiona followed him to the bench where his own meal awaited him. He had filled a plate for her and placed it in her hands when she settled down beside him.
    “The Viking is coming around,” he said, nodding with satisfaction. “He alone believed you hadn’t poisoned the milk. ’Tis a