No frail la.s.s could she be, Once the lady took to sea.

But the biggest mistake This pirate lady did make Was to tweak the tails Of some Norse males Because if there's aught A Viking cannot bear It is a dare Especially when it comes from the fairer s.e.x Which challenges his self-respect.

So beware and await, Yon female pi-rate.

Your fate is in the hands Of fierce Viking bands.

Especially Thork the Great Who will use you as bait.

Or even worse, Take you on a different course.

Didst know our chieftain is looking for a bride?

And marriage to a pirate might just heal his pride.

On the other hand . . ."

Bolthor hesitated and frowned, unsure what could come next?

Thork could only imagine.

The female crew, who'd been listening while pretending to work industriously paying them never mind, laughed uproariously, while Medana looked as if she'd swallowed a whole lutefisk.

So Thork finished the poem for Bolthor: "On the other hand, a pirate crew Would make a tasty stew."

Chapter Four.

Johnny Depp, they were not . . .

If Thork had been amazed before by the nerve of this crazy band of female would-be pirates, he was in for even more of a shock now.

They had been rowing steadily within viewing distance of the sh.o.r.eline for most of the day, a not uncommon practice for longships, but then, after much mysterious conversation of female heads bent together glancing furtively at the men to make sure they weren't listening, the ship was turned around and circled back from whence they'd come. That evening, they dropped anchor.

Despite his constant questions, Thork remained ignorant of what was amiss. His men were equally puzzled. The consensus was the women, the weaker s.e.x, needed a rest from all their rowing. Poor things!

"Now what?" he asked Medana as she approached him with a length of cloth in her hands. She wore men's braies and a belted tunic, and on her head a red linen scarf tied off to one side of her neck. The only thing missing was an earring. He hoped she didn't decide to "borrow" that as well. Other women, attired the same, also carrying strips of cloths, headed toward his men.

Uh-oh!

"I need to gag you."

"Why?" He strained his head to the side to avoid her hands.

"We are stopping for a bit of pirating, and we cannot risk your raising an alarm to the poor monks of St. Alban's."

"A bit of pirating? There is no such thing as a bit of pirating. You either pirate or you don't. And poor monks? Why not target a richer monastery? Barmy as beetles in a vat of mead, that's what you all are!" He was talking fast, trying to forestall that d.a.m.n cloth she was wringing in her hands. It probably wasn't even clean.

"Barmy or not, we do what we have to do. And right now we want . . . nay, need what this poor monastery has to offer."

Taking a deep breath, he tried a different argument. "Your timing is not so great, if I may voice an opinion."

"Why stop now? Seems to me you have an opinion of everything."

He ignored her sarcasm. " 'Tis almost dark, in case you hadn't noticed. Unless you know the terrain, you will be at a disadvantage."

"We operate best in darkness when our victims cannot a.s.sess our weaknesses."

"You mean, they cannot tell that you are a band of lunatic women."

"Among other things." Her face was flushed prettily. Something she tended to do a lot, around him.

He rolled his eyes. Something he tended to do a lot, around her.

"I don't see why you can't wait until some other time, when we men are not tied up here on board. What if your victims fight back? What if they board the ship? What if they set the ship afire? We would be helpless to save our own lives, let alone help you women escape."

She pondered his words, then said, "Nay, we cannot take the risk. Besides, these are monks. Holy men take vows against violence. And these are cloistered monks. So they are bound to be even more peaceable."

"Pfff! I've known many priests who are as adept at swordplay as hardened warriors. In fact, once-" His words were cut off as she seized the opportunity and thrust the cloth into his open mouth, tying it tightly behind his head.

"If you must know," she said just before she sauntered off, "we noticed some goats when we pa.s.sed by earlier today, and our cook, Olga, yearns for goat milk for one of her special recipes."

"Agfcsk!" he exclaimed. A goat? They were risking their lives for a goat!

Glancing around the deck, he noticed that his men were similarly gagged and bug-eyed with outrage. Except for Jamie, whose eyes were br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears of mirth. The lackwit!

They watched helplessly as a dozen women climbed down a rope ladder that had been thrown over the rail. Some of them carried short swords, which they raised above their heads, floating on their backs toward more shallow waters. Others had knives held between their teeth as they swam toward sh.o.r.e. While some were adept at swimming, others could scarce keep their heads above water as they paddled like puppies who'd fallen into a fjord. There was also a small rowboat that had been lowered with two rowers inside. He wasn't sure if the boat would be used for all the booty they would steal, or for the goat. Please G.o.ds, not goats, as in more than one. The bull was bad enough.

Another thing the women hadn't taken into consideration. There was a full moon out tonight, and all their activity would be clear as day. Well, maybe they were aware of that fact, and that's why they hadn't anch.o.r.ed the longship closer to sh.o.r.e. Too visible.

The melee that followed would have been laughable, if it weren't so dangerous. Had the women not realized that the goats would not come willingly? Forget about the men setting up an alarm. The goats did the job very well.

Neah! Neah! Neah! Meeeyyyaa! Meeeyyyaa! Behh! Behh! Behh! The animals, huddled together in a group at the top of a small rise, bleated as one of the women attempted to pull a ram by a rope tied round its neck and another woman tried to shove its behind. The stubborn goat wasn't going anywhere until someone-it appeared to be Medana-got the bright idea to lead a female goat toward the sh.o.r.e. The randy goat then followed docilely behind, though both goats made an unholy noise of bleating protests. Even more hilarious . . . all the other goats were following, like sheep to the slaughter. There was no way the women could bring back a dozen goats. Was there?

And another female pirate had the bright idea to grab a duck, as well. A huge duck. Maybe it was a goose. Hard to tell from where he was. But the squawking that bird made was enough to wake even the most bone-weary monk from his sleep.

Quack! Quack! Quack! Behh! Behh! Behh! Somewhere in the distance some dog had been awakened, and added to the cacophony with its Rfff! Rfff! Rfff!

Meanwhile, several monks had their robes raised knee-high as they chased a woman clutching a huge silver crucifix that was almost as big as she was. Still other monks had torches in one hand and rakes and other garden implements in the other for weapons.

To their credit, he saw one of the women set fire to a hay mow, which diverted the attention of several monks, who tried to stop the blaze with buckets of water from a nearby well. And a few of the pirates stopped to engage the monks in "battle." No mortal wounds did they inflict, but they knocked two monks unconscious with blows to the head with the flat sides of their short swords. Another monk, shocked to see blood flowing from a slice to his arm, ran squealing back up the hill to the monastery.

The woman with the large crucifix almost drowned herself with the weight of her booty and finally tossed the object into the bottom of the rowboat and helped the others trying to get two goats into the boat and shoo the others back home. The goose escaped when it took a good nip of its captor's chin, drawing blood, and nigh flew over the water back to its goslings.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was more like a half hour, Pirate Lady was once more on its way to wherever they had been headed originally. They'd tried to put the goat and its mate down in the hold, but the bull was having none of that. The ruckus down below was alarming to Thork. If it went on much longer, the bull would kick a hole in the longship and they would all drown at sea.

Luckily, or unluckily, the women decided to tie the goats up on deck. Luckily, because the ship would not sink, and the whole b.l.o.o.d.y lot of them would not drown. Unluckily, because the goats did not take a liking to Thork and his men, who were still tied and gagged. The bearded billy goat, in particular, was giving Thork the evil eye, and Thork just knew, if the beast got loose, it was going to b.u.t.t an important part of Thork's body.

The women, soggy wet and some of them battered and bleeding, were congratulating themselves on a pirate venture well done, as the longship skimmed over the waves in a fortuitous wind that had come up of a sudden. Eventually, they got around to ungagging the men.

When he was finally able to speak, he found himself speechless.

"See, all your worries were for naught." Medana beamed at him. Her head scarf had been lost somewhere, her blonde hair hung in unattractive clumps about her face, her tunic and braies clung to her slim body. No curves in sight. She was a mess. "We did not even have to kill anyone."

"Oh, that is a wonderful attribute for a pirate. No killing. Pfff!"

She raised her chin proudly. "We got our goat."

Tongues and feathers and candles, oh my! . . .

Two days later, Medana huddled in her small sleeping quarters with Elida, Solveig, Gudron, and Bergdis. It was midday, and they were only hours away from Thrudr.

The stop at the monastery to steal the goats had taken longer than they'd expected. Not the pirating itself. But adjusting the goats into the ship life had created mayhem, especially amongst the men, who complained constantly about the smell, the bleating, even the "evil eye," of all things. More than once, she'd threatened to put the men back in the hold with the bull.

Even worse, her women were making fools of themselves in their attempts to make themselves tempting to the men. Yestermorn, Medana had even had to scold two young females who were trying to impress the men by dancing deftly above the sea waters on the shafts of the extended oars. To their credit, neither had fallen in.

But Medana had more important issues to settle.

"We cannot allow the men to see how we enter our hidden homeland," Medana proclaimed for about the fifth time. "It is essential that, after we release them, they cannot find us again."

"I still say that once we sate them in our bed furs, they will be so pleased, they will leave with smiles on their faces." This from Bergdis, who had taken a liking to the clumsy one named Alrek. The young man had nigh fallen over the rail when she'd handled his dangler in a particular way as she aided him in relieving himself this morn.

The leader, Thork, was not smiling, though. Not that she cared, but then, Medana hadn't been strolling back in forth in front of him with swaying hips and outthrust b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Not that he would smile at that type of attempt at seduction from her, anyway. He would probably laugh . . . with derision. In fact, he did sometimes as he muttered something foul about three b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The lout!

"Besides, you have made it abundantly clear that the men must be willing partners," Solveig added. "So why would there be a question of revenge?"

"Because you took them without their permission. Because you trussed them up like spring chickens about to be plucked. Because they spent a goodly amount of time in the hold breathing bull dung. Because they say the goats are as bad as the bull. Because they must take care of bodily functions with women watching . . . and touching. Because one of them has a shy bladder and has to be . . . coaxed."

The three pirate ladies ducked their heads sheepishly.

"We will just have to entice them to our bed furs then and hope they will be so pleased they will not want to lop off any body parts," Elida a.s.serted, arching her shoulders back and her bosoms forward, for emphasis.

"Tempting and pleasing are all well and good, but that does not preclude thoughts of retaliation. I do not want the men to know where we are located. It's a chance we cannot take. A Viking man with vengeance on his mind would hunt down his prey with his dying breath. It is a game to them," Medana told the women. "Our safety is secure only because our location has been kept secret all these years."

"Blindfold them, then," Solveig suggested.

"It might work, but some men-especially sailing men-develop a knack for sailing directions by instinct. One of my brothers' seamen once said he could guide a ship home with his eyes closed. Another claimed to be able to sense directions by the changes in the wind, bird chatter, the sun and moon rays," Medana told them.

"There is only one solution then. Give them the sleeping draught again." This from Gudron, who wanted first dibs on the giant Bolthor. Apparently he had a large number of children back in the Saxon lands, thus proving his ability to produce babes. Not all his, some of them being stepchildren, but that didn't seem to matter.

Medana groaned her dismay. Thork had been outraged at having been dosed to helplessness. To do so again would raise his ire even more. But did they have any choice? "So be it!" she concluded. "Put it in their ale during the noon meal."

When she went out on deck, Thork summoned her in his usual obnoxious way, "Come! Here! Wench!"

She'd learned not to react to his baiting by voicing her annoyance, which was obviously his goal. "What now?" Walking over toward the mast pole, she tried not to notice that he was an especially handsome man, only a few years older than her twenty-six years. And he knew it, too. Even with days-old bristles on his face and his dark blond hair unkempt from the sea breeze, he was a fine specimen of Viking virility.

"Are we almost there?"

"Um . . . another day or two," she said. More like another hour or two, but he does not need to know that.

"Liar!"

"What?"

"Your eyelashes flutter when you tell an untruth."

She stared fixedly at the lout, trying her best not to blink. Then she couldn't stop herself and blinked repeatedly, narrowing her eyes at the scurvy cur.

He laughed. "How soon will you release us?"

They'd discussed this before, but he was no doubt trying to catch her in yet another lie. "As soon as we unload the bull and make sure he has not suffered from the voyage, we will restock the ship and take you back to Hedeby."

"And that will take how long?"

"A sennight at most."

"A sennight to mount a cow? Are you barmy? Have you looked at its c.o.c.k lately? That beast is more than capable of swiving anything remotely resembling a cow's a.r.s.e on a moment's notice."

I will not blush. I will not react to his crudeness. I will be calm and polite. "We have more than one cow," she informed him.

"And you expect us to wait while the randy fellow tups a herd of cows? Pfff! My longships will be gone by then. The instant you untie us, we are going back to Hedeby, that I a.s.sure you."

"Really? Eight men to row a longship?"

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"If you think you can force a woman to row when she does not want to, you have a lot to learn about women."

"I am going to enjoy torturing you before I lop off your silly head."

"You do not make it easy to be polite."

"Did I ask you for politeness? Politeness will be the last thing on my mind when I get my hands on you."

"Talk, talk, talk. I will not give you the opportunity." There, I go. Reacting to his taunts again. She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from saying more.

"Oh, I will have the opportunity. And, believe you me, all the time you have had me tied up here, I have been making lists in my mind. Lists of all the things I will do to you."

"Dost think I haven't felt the lash before?" she scoffed.

"By whom?" he scoffed back.

"My brothers, the evil trolls."