"Do you love her?"

Thork flinched. It was a question he hadn't expected and truthfully hadn't even considered. Tentatively, he replied, "I do not know."

"You should come back to Dragonstead with us, or go to Hedeby. Just leave the poor woman alone."

"I cannot."

"Well, that is your answer then."

Chapter Twenty.

Did the Brady Bunch have family meetings like this? . . .

Medana thought she couldn't be any more embarra.s.sed, but sitting in a meeting with Tykir, Alinor, and Thork to discuss her intimate condition was beyond humiliating. Medana had agreed to sit down with them in the rush of exhilaration on learning that Thork's parents would be leaving Thrudr that evening . . . and hopefully Thork would accompany them.

They were sitting on benches at the far end of the hall of one of the smaller longhouses, sipping at wooden cups of Lady Eadyth's delicious mead. Thork sat beside her, and his mother and father faced them from the other side of the table. His father wore war braids intertwined with crystals in his dark blond and gray hair. A beautiful star-shaped amber pendant on a gold chain hung down over his leather tunic. Alinor looked equally impressive in a deep green gunna. Her bright red hair with a small smattering of silver threads was held off her face with a twisted silver fillet in the shape of writhing dragons. They made a handsome couple and their affection for each other was a palpable thing. How could Thork have avoided such a loving family for so long?

And speaking of . . . well, thinking of Thork, he looked more than presentable himself. He, too, was wearing war braids today, interspersed with amber beads. He had a thunderbolt earring in one ear only, giving him a rascally look. He was close-shaven and smelled of pine soap. Nigh irresistible, she had to admit.

"These cups are remarkable," Alinor said, examining the fine carving on the one in her hands. This particular set had animals on them with a forest background. Deer, squirrels, birds, and such.

"Tofa, our mistress of woodcarving, makes those. Aren't they incredible? You should see the work she does on chair backs. We can sell as many as she makes in Hedeby."

"I think I met her yesterday. The woman with long black hair worn in a coronet about her head?"

Medana nodded.

"She had the most adorable little girl with her."

"That would be Rikva. She is four years old. Mistress of turnips, we call her. 'Tis her job to pull out neeps in the garden."

Everyone smiled at that.

"There is not one single person here who does not have a job and a t.i.tle," Thork bragged, as if he had a proprietary interest in the island.

Medana looked at Thork with surprise.

"Now, let us be forthright here, Medana," Tykir said. "Are you or are you not with child?"

Medana looked to Thork for help. He just shrugged.

"As I have told Thork repeatedly, I will not know for days yet, mayhap as much as a sennight. I ne'er had reason to keep exact track of such things in the past." Medana didn't think her face could get any hotter.

She was wrong.

"There are early signs betimes," Alinor mused. "Do your b.r.e.a.s.t.s feel overly full and overly sensitive?"

"How would I know, with all the handling by calloused fingers they have been subjected to of late?" Immediately, Medana regretted her impulsive outburst. But it was too late, of course.

Thork was grinning like a preening peac.o.c.k as he turned his hands over to expose his calloused palms and fingers. His father was chuckling with pride. His mother was eyeing the two of them speculatively.

"Well, there are other signs, as well. Like moodiness," Alinor continued.

"She snaps my head off every time I get near her," Thork told them.

"I did that from the first time I met your irksome self," Medana said.

Again, Thork grinned with ill-placed pride.

"And p.i.s.s. My lady wife had to p.i.s.s all the time when she was carrying," Tykir disclosed.

Medana had been visiting the privy a lot, but she'd attributed it to nervousness with all the people about.

"Of course, a sure as certain sign is that the nipples and aureolae, those rings around the nipples, get darker in color." This intimate detail from Tykir again.

"Father!" Thork chided with a laugh.

"Lackwit!" Alinor slapped Tykir on the arm.

"What? 'Tis the truth."

"You do not discuss female parts in public," Alinor explained.

"This is not public. This is family," Tykir grumbled.

Me? Family?

Alinor turned her attention to Medana with a questioning expression on her face.

"I have not looked there lately," Medana said, with an even hotter face. Any more blushing, and the skin on her cheeks would catch fire.

"I could check for you," Thork offered.

She was the one slapping Thork's arm now.

"How about food cravings?"

She exchanged a glance with Thork, whom she knew was recalling the carrot last night. Which brought other images to mind. She could tell they had like minds when he winked at her. The rogue! "None that I can think of," Medana lied.

"Remember the time you caught me eating gammelost and honey, heartling," Alinor said to her husband. "That is how you knew I was carrying Thork."

Thork made a gagging sound, and Medana wasn't sure if it was at the idea of stinky cheese and honey, or the prospect of his parents getting nostalgic.

"Well, whether you are increasing or not is not really the issue, Medana. You are a highborn lady compromised by a highborn man, and that requires a marriage," Tykir declared.

"Nay!" she and Thork said at the same time.

"Let us not rush things," Thork said.

The insensitive rat!

His mother gave Thork a look that would melt a rock.

"I did not mean-" Thork tried to hedge.

"I would not marry the loathsome lout if he knelt on burning coals and begged me," Medana proclaimed.

Alinor smiled, and Medana realized that she'd slipped by calling Thork a "loathsome lout."

"We have decided that you should come back to Dragonstead with us," Tykir said in a voice that brooked no argument. "We will leave some men behind for protection of Thrudr. That way your concerns over the vulnerability of the island will be taken care of. You will be out of reach of your brothers or the king's men, if it comes to that, since you will be under my shield. And you and Thork will have an opportunity to make decisions about your future together. Know this, my dear Medana, if you are carrying my grandchild, it will be born in marriage. I know from personal experience the scorn that illegitimacy carries."

This was a long speech for Tykir to make, and they all remained silent taking in his words.

"I do not want to leave Thrudr," Medana insisted. There was no time for further discussion because Brokk, the young Viking comrade of Thork's, came stumbling in. "Ships . . . there are ships headed toward Small Island."

"Well, we often have ships stop by for fresh water, or to deliver and pick up messages left by other pa.s.sing vessels."

Brokk shook his head vigorously. "Bolthor said they carry flags that are identifiable, even from the mountaintop. Lady Katherine's . . . she is Bolthor's wife, and he is moaning and flailing his arms like a scared chicken. The two others have white thunderbolts against black fields."

"My brothers," Medana gasped.

Tykir stood and rubbed his hands together. "Nothing like a good fight to whet an old man's juices!"

"You are not fighting," Alinor told her husband.

Tykir picked his wife up off the bench and kissed her deeply on the mouth. "Try and stop me," he said. "Come, Thork, we must gather the men and plan strategy."

Thork looked at Medana as if considering the same.

"Do not dare," she warned.

He grinned and rushed out with his father, Brokk following after them.

"Wait!" Medana said, but they were already gone.

Alinor sat back down across the table from Medana, then glanced around at the empty cups and empty benches before saying, "That went well, didn't it?"

The worst possible thing happened . . .

Thork stood on the mountaintop with his father and Starri, staring down at Small Island. It looked as if the three new ships were staying. That meant that one of his father's men must have told them about the tunnel.

Of course, Medana, Gudron, and several of the pirate warrior women were there, too. Medana insisted it was their island, their problem, and they must be involved in the solution.

Bolthor was there also. Guthrom, Selik, and Thork's other men were down in the village a.s.sembling every weapon on the island to get an idea of total inventory. They would also be helping to train the women warriors in fighting techniques they might not have yet mastered and refreshing their own skills. There were plenty of swords and lances and bows and arrows aboard his father's longships, but they didn't want to rush out at first low tide and alert Medana's brothers that the island was now under the shield of the Thorksson family.

"I will go through the tunnel first to forestall Katherine coming through," Bolthor decided. "I fear for her safety when Medana's brothers are here for their own devious purposes."

"That is a good idea," Tykir said, "although my seamen know enough to offer her protection. Plus, Katherine did not come here without her own guardsmen. If you go through alone, they will not feel threatened."

"Medana, I think you need to stay out of sight. At first, leastways," Thork said.

She immediately stiffened, willful wench that she was. "I will not cower like a timid bird."

" 'Tis not bravery that is needed here. Strategy is more important. Outwitting the enemy," Tykir told her, putting an arm around her shoulders and squeezing. If Thork had tried that, she would have clobbered him on the spot.

"I understand. We women have had to resort to strategy as well, to compensate for our weak points. When a-pirating, we rarely confront our victims head-on," Medana said.

"Well said!" This from Starri, who showed his admiration with a full-body survey of Medana in her usual tunic and braies.

Thork did not want Starri admiring Medana. "Then you will appreciate why you must stay out of sight," Thork told her. "We do not want an immediate confrontation. Best we get a feel for your brothers' reasons for being here before engaging in any fighting."

"Oh, I know why they are here. They want my land, meager as it is compared to their estates. They would take Thrudr, too, just to be mean. They gain their ends by having me tried for murder, then pet.i.tion to the king to release my inheritance, especially since I have no daughter. Or they will force me to wed a man of their choosing who will be the puppet holder of the land. Of course, my life would soon be forfeit, either way. In the latter case, they would not want to risk my bearing a girl child who would be next in line."

"But you might already be carrying a girl child," Tykir said.

Medana put her face in both hands and groaned.

"What?" Tykir asked.

"Medana hasn't mentioned anything to her women," Thork told his father with disgust.

"Why not?" His father was sincerely confused. To him, naught was sacred.

"You are breeding?" Gudron asked Medana in a voice filled with hurt that Medana would not have told her, presumably one of her closest friends.

"Nay, I am not breeding," Medana replied.

"But she could be," Thork interjected.

Medana sliced him with a glance so icy he might just have icicles growing on his eyebrows.

"I have an idea," Starri said. "I could marry you, Medana."

Thork, stunned into momentary silence, turned slowly, very slowly, to gaze at his traitorous brother. His father was tapping his chin thoughtfully, as if actually giving it consideration.

"Why would you make such a ridiculous offer?" Medana asked Starri.

"It would give you further protection. And I have been wed afore. I like married life." Starri shrugged and ran a fingertip up the sleeve of Medana's tunic in a playful manner.

"Medana will wed you over my dead body, Starri. Forget that idea."

"Thork! That is not your decision to make," Medana said.