A Banquet of Suspicions and Culinary Delights

Noren carefully carried out a two-foot-diameter crab meat pie on a large platter.

She gingerly placed it onto the long dining table.

After several trips back and forth, she had served all the food.

Suddenly, the long dining table was laden with a dazzling array of dishes, captivating everyone’s eyes.

The intoxicating aroma wafted through the air, causing all present to swallow hard, their mouths watering.

Sithis sat in the secondary seat, facing his wife, Anna.

Anna bristled with anger at the sight of her husband, turning her head away, unwilling to look at him.

A low ‘Hmph, hmph, hmph’ escaped her nostrils.

Sithis offered a helpless smile. Norse women were indeed proud and headstrong.

His wife, in particular, showed him no deference, even in front of her own brother.

“Make that eyesore beside you leave!” Anna suddenly declared.

A young man stood beside Sithis, specifically brought to taste-test for poison.

Sithis had made thorough preparations for this evening’s banquet, for he knew not if this was a feast with ill intent.

To prevent Norse guards from siding with Svein in case of conflict, he had brought no Norse guards on this trip.

His retinue consisted entirely of Slavic attendants.

As the mayor’s wife, Anna’s word carried weight, and Sithis’s taster was about to leave, pressured by her authority.

However, Sithis placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

“Ah, why call him an eyesore?” Sithis chuckled. “You know I always need someone to wait on me during meals. He’s here, perfectly positioned to pour wine.”

“Hmph, pour wine? Who would believe such nonsense?!” Anna retorted, tearing away Sithis’s pretense without a shred of modesty.

“You’re merely looking for someone to test for poison, nothing more.”

Sithis’s face darkened considerably. Even the taster standing beside him shifted uncomfortably, his expression etched with profound embarrassment.

Svein quickly intervened to smooth things over. “Let him stay. As for pouring wine, everyone knows it would be a laughingstock for a dignified mayor to have no one attend to him.”

He then feigned scolding his sister, Anna. “Enough! What kind of occasion is this? As a woman, you should be grateful to your husband for being allowed at the table. You should respect him and support all his decisions!”

Anna grumbled, “I’m a shieldmaiden! Shieldmaidens can’t sit at the table? Be careful, or you’ll die and never reach Valhalla! If I truly supported all his decisions, I’d certainly run you through with a blade! I’d make you, old man, cough up your gold!”

Svein either did not hear his sister’s mutterings, or he pretended not to.

He immediately waved to the taster, signaling him to quickly pour the wine.

The taster, a quick-witted man himself, promptly picked up the wine jug.

He poured two cups of wine, first into a wooden goblet, then into a silver one.

After drinking from the wooden goblet, the taster’s expression remained unchanged.

He nodded to Sithis, indicating that the wine was safe.

Sithis’s expression softened instantly. He smiled, dismissing the taster, and addressed Anna and Svein.

“Since Anna dislikes this fellow so much, I suppose I’ll drink alone. My wife never serves me anyway, so I should start getting used to not having servants attend me.”

Anna frowned, poised to unleash a torrent of curses.

But Svein’s stern gaze silenced her.

Sithis feigned ignorance of the siblings’ interaction, maintaining his pleasant smile throughout.

An awkward silence fell upon the group, but it was soon broken by another voice.

“Last dish! Everything’s served, you can start eating!” Noren announced, placing a plate of stir-fried beef with scallions next to a large basin of pork stew with turnips.

She wiped her hands on her chef’s apron.

“Everything?”

Sithis surveyed the various dishes on the table. “Why is there no bread?”

“Huh?” Noren, momentarily distracted, snapped back to attention. “There isn’t any, I suppose. I didn’t feel like making it, I’m tired of it.”

With that, Noren retreated into the kitchen.

There, she set up a small table, portioning out some of each dish, just enough for her and her brother.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t join the main table, but she feared her and Frey’s presence might provoke their uncle, the mayor, into murderous intent.

Sithis raised an eyebrow, a peculiar expression on his face. “No bread? That’s truly odd.”

‘Never mind,’ Sithis thought. ‘Eating meat is just as good, as long as I can fill my stomach.’

Yet, the dishes on the table were exceedingly strange, many of which he had never seen before.

For a moment, he was unsure where to even begin.

“Mr. Mayor, you might start with that pie,” Svein suggested. “Noren once made an onion and pork pie that I found absolutely delicious. While this one has a crab meat filling, the taste can only be better, not worse.”

Svein used a six-inch dining knife to slice open the glistening, exquisite yellow pie.

He cut out a wedge, roughly thirty degrees, placed it on a small wooden plate, and handed it to Sithis.

Sithis took it, his gaze fixed on the perfectly baked, flaky crust atop.

Beneath lay a thick, substantial filling, instantly whetting his appetite.

He was about to pick it up with his hands when he noticed both his brother-in-law and his wife cutting their portions into small pieces.

They were eating them with two-pronged forks.

Sithis hesitated. He was a devout follower of Jesus, and ever since he began using a two-pronged fork as an eating utensil, many monks and priests had opposed his behavior.

They claimed that not eating with one’s hands was sacrilege against God, spouting all sorts of nonsensical drivel.

Medieval dining habits were akin to certain cultures even today, perhaps even less refined.

Many people, immediately after finishing their meal, would wipe the grease onto their wives’ bodies before going to bed.

He mused, wondering if the uncouth practice of eating with one’s hands, observed in some cultures even in the twenty-first century, had been an uncivilized practice brought over by the Anglo-Saxons.

After a moment of hesitation, Sithis ultimately decided to eat with his hands.

He believed that only by continuously revering Jesus in his heart would divine grace descend upon him in times of hardship.

He took a delicate bite of the pie. The crispy crust crackled satisfyingly, and the filling, imbued with the unique river-fresh essence of crab meat, burst forth with flavor in his mouth.

The more he chewed, the wider his eyes grew, his chewing speed accelerating, and his swallowing frequency increasing with each ravenous bite.

One slice of pie, two slices, three slices…

He choked!

A quick gulp of wine helped it down, followed by a vigorous pounding on his chest.

Then, he resumed eating with renewed ferocity, shouting, “Delicious!”

As he swallowed, he mumbled indistinctly, “With Noren’s skill, she could surely become a favored guest of dukes and nobles alike.

If she were an assassin, even if those princes and aristocrats knew the food was poisoned, they might still devour it without hesitation!”

Svein’s eating was no less messy, his bushy beard covered in crumbs.

He boomed, “Oh, you flatter her! Just tell us whenever you wish to dine, and Noren will come cook for you!”

“Really?!” Sithis’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

Anna slammed her hand on the table. “Nonsense! Noren isn’t a maid! A dignified shieldmaiden can cook occasionally, but to be a chef for others? That’s an insult to Norse tradition!”

“Oh…” The light in Sithis’s eyes dimmed, and he looked utterly dejected.

Anna scoffed, “Look at you! You’ve grown increasingly susceptible to those noblemen’s vulgar habits in recent years!”

Sithis frowned. He was here to savor the exquisite food, not to quarrel with his wife.

Though Svein was engrossed in his meal, he still covertly observed his brother-in-law.

Witnessing Sithis’s single-minded devotion to eating, Svein felt confident that his plans would soon come to fruition.

‘Thank the gods Noren possesses such exceptional culinary skills.’

With matters seemingly settled, Svein no longer allowed himself to be distracted.

He fished a lamprey eel from the green tofu-like blocks and began tearing into it with gusto.

Feast!