gave a quite unladylike rumble. The smells coming from the steaming kettle that Yngvildr set on the long trestle table made the Frisian lass's mouth water.

Tossing away the extra "e" in "Friesian" as something fit only for horses, the lissome lady grabbed Widimir by the hand and started for the table, more than ready for food.

It seemed that everyone else was of the same mind, for it took Widimir's strong muscle to create a place for the two of them on the long bench.

As she clung to the wooden trencher in front of her, Ingvoldr turned her large eyes to Widimir again.

"You never said, you know," she said matter-of-factly. "Did I have a good time?"

Widimir's face creased into a wide grin. There was a wicked glint in his eye as he turned to answer his Frisian friend...