That’s when things got even worse. A pack of white wolves, attracted by the smell of bear blood, began to stalk them, then came rushing out of the woods. If they weren’t so deadly, they would be a beautiful sight. The snow wolves, or arctic wolves, were rare, and traveled as extended families. In this case, there were about ten of the snarling, teeth-bared creatures headed their way. The men dropped their ropes attached to the sledge and raised their weapons. Four of the animals escaped, but there were six good-size bodies lying on the ground soon after. At least a hundred pounds each and five feet long. Wherever they’d been feeding, there must not be a famine.
The men were all panting heavily, exhilarated by the challenge well-met, more than they’d been panting with the bear, even. If they had some mead, they’d raise a toast.
“We can’t take them with us,” Cnut declared then. “The sledge is too heavy already.”
“We bloody hell will,” Thorkel declared right back at him. “Holy Thor! These white furs are worth a fortune. I’ll carry them myself if I have to.”
“You ain’t keeping all these furs fer yerself,” Ogot the Blacksmith protested.
“Too bad we can’t eat the meat!” Ulf was poking one of the animals with his long sword, checking its sex. Apparently the male fur was more desirable.
“Wolf meat is too stringy fer my eating,” Njal said. “And gamey! Phew! The stink is enough ta gag a maggot!”
“Tell that to the villagers whose bellies are bloating with starvation,” Ogot remarked. His words were sympathetic but his tone was indifferent.
Thus it was, as a compromise, that they spent more time skinning the six wolves and building a fire to ward off any other predators that had an appetite for bear meat. They left the wolf meat behind, however, far from their campsite.
That night, around the fire, as they took turns at guard, their conversation turned to what else? Women.
“We need to invent a new sex spot,” Thorkel said.
“What’s wrong with the Viking S-spot?” Ulf wanted to know.
Thorkel shrugged. “The Viking S-spot is all well and good, but it is located in the women, and while men get much satisfaction from making their women scream when we touch them there, I think it is time for a male sex spot.”
“Some people say there is nothing new in sex. Anything we think of now must have been thought of before,” Cnut said.
“I don’t believe that,” Aslak said. “Once, whilst a-Viking, I met this man from the Arab lands who said his harem girls are taught to do the spiral. The man is on the bottom and the woman, straddling him, places his cock right at her opening. Then she starts rolling her hips in wide circles, starting big at the beginning and getting to smaller circles at the base of his cock. Then she does it over and over until the man peaks like a rutting pig.”
Nice picture, that, Cnut thought. Not the corkscrewing maneuver, but the pig sex.
“Hah! I don’t think I’d ever be able to talk my Ingrid into doing that,” Ogot said.
“My Helga would,” Ulf bragged.
No one said anything, the silent consensus being that who would want her to. To say that Helga was uncomely was an understatement.
“Did you ever make a woman fart during the bedsport?” Thorkel asked. “That is a sure sign the woman has lost control if she lets loose one of those.”
“Helga does all the time.”
Way more information than Cnut wanted, especially when Thorkel began to muse on Andrea’s talents in the sex arts. “I never saw the attraction in flat-chested women,” Thorkel commented.
“Yea, but Cnut’s woman has a fine arse. I noticed in those braies she wears.” This from Ulf. You’d think he had more than enough on his hands with two wives, one of them being the fearsome Helga, to be ogling a new woman.
“Is she a wanton, wearing such garments?” Njal asked.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! This had gone far enough. “Andrea is not my sex partner.”
“Does that mean she is on the market?” Thorkel was twirling the edge of his mustache.
“No, she is not on the market.”
“Do you speak for her?”
“I am her . . . uh, protector.” Cnut hoped Andrea didn’t hear that. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t like that designation. It sounded too much like a mistress situation.
“No need to protect her from me. I am good with women,” Thorkel proclaimed. “Methinks I will leave the question up to her to decide. Surely you cannot disagree with that, my jarl.”
“I thought you had your sights on Dyna,” Njal remarked.
“I did. I do, but she will not spread her thighs without the marriage vows. Even then, she demands fidelity.”