blue as the sky above. How many times had the roles been reversed? He himself had watched Svienn, imagining those eyes looking at him the way they did now, wondering how those hard-corded muscles might feel beneath his fingertips, or better yet, how those callused hands that wielded a hammer and bellows all day long would feel on his skin. Now, however, Svienn’s stare brought to mind a hawk studying a rabbit—a moment before swooping in for the kill.
And who had Esja warned Galen about that very day? “I… I guess I’ll be leaving, then.” Galen fumbled to tie the cord that held up his braes.
Svienn’s voice dropped a full measure, holding the same note of suggestion young women used when engaging Galen in conversation on festival nights. “You don’t have to be going so soon, do you now?”
The apprentice smith stepped from the shadows, standing directly in Galen’s path. Too close. Galen’s heart pounded, the closeness, the heat of Svienn’s big body, robbing him of all reason. The rough hand he’d so often fantasized about cupped his cheek. “My father’s brown mare foaled today. Would you like to see the colt?”
Galen swallowed hard, nodding even though he’d originally intended to shake his head no. How he loved animals, especially the young, and he’d eagerly anticipated the new addition to the horse stock. What harm could there be in it?
Svienn led him away from the smithy toward the livestock barn at the edge of the village. Several riding horses and sturdy work ponies drowsed in the paddock, enjoying the last of the sun’s rays. Galen considered releasing the donkey to join the other animals when Svienn distracted him. Instead of entering the birthing stalls, the handsome smith climbed the ladder leading to the hayloft.
I can stay here and stare at the horses, or I can follow Svienn. The horses lost out. Once Galen reached the loft, Svienn grabbed him from behind, wrestling him to a bed of soft, sweet hay.
With barely time enough to register the intent in Svienn’s eyes, Galen gasped, his open mouth becoming a target for an aggressive tongue. “Mmmphhh!” he exclaimed, caught unawares. The noise quickly changed to “Mmmmm…” Being a quick study, he met and matched Svienn stroke for stroke.
“Easy,” Svienn pulled back enough to say, “‘tis not a battle, but a dance.”
They kissed again, Galen relaxing into the moment of all his dreams coming true. A sure hand slipped into his braes, finding the hardness within that had nothing to do with the remaining tubers in his pocket. “Nnnngggghh!” he moaned into Svienn’s mouth.
He fought the hold, cheeks flaming. This man’s hand squeezed his… what if someone found them out? Esja’s warning rang in his ears.
“None will know,” Svienn murmured against his lips, as though sensing Galen’s thoughts. It had taken Galen longer to put on his tunic and braes at the stream than it took Svienn to remove them. Surely Svienn’s clothes would soon be joining Galen’s in hanging from the rafter. Instead, Svienn grasped Galen’s bare cock, holding him in a rough embrace.
Galen struggled a moment. He was naked! In front of a fully clothed Svienn! A fully clothed Svienn who was… Eagerly Galen pushed into Svienn’s grip, sparks flashing behind his closed eyelids.
The smith guided Galen’s hand to his own crotch. The moment Galen gripped the man’s member, Svienn suddenly shoved him away. “Unhand me, you disgusting wolf bait!”
“Wha…?” What happened? They were doing so well. Galen stared at Svienn with wide eyes, pulling hay into his lap to hide his nakedness. His heart slammed against his ribs. “What did I do?”
Svienn jumped to his feet. “I bear witness to this wicked deed!” Svienn’s father bellowed, topping the loft ladder, his oath seconded by Svienn’s elder brother, emerging from behind a stack of hay.
Leering down at a bewildered Galen, Svienn growled, “Haul this… haul… this… “ He stopped mid-sentence, staring down with a puzzled frown.
Svienn’s brother elbowed him in the ribs, side-whispering, “Vile creature.”
Svienn brightened. “Ah yes.”
“Haul this vile creature,” the three accusers chorused, “to the magistrate.”
“Galen Olaf-kin. You stand accused of unnatural acts toward men. What say you for yourself?”
“Say nothing,” Esja instructed, quivering beside Galen on the tavern steps at sundown, the place and time of joinings and judgings. The fact that he’d never been here for the former contributed much to Galen’s attendance for the latter, he supposed.
Galen didn’t know Esja’s plans. She was wallowing deep in the stew, too, for an entirely different reason. That reason let