“It really was bizarre,” Maury said. “She just went berserk.”
“Biting her shield, like?” I said. “Immune to flame and blade?”
“What?” Maury said. And then he remembered that those were reputed characteristics of the berserkers, the Norse wild-man warriors from the age of the sagas who would go into frenzies, biting their shields, fighting almost demonically, undaunted by fire and swords. They were highly effective – but vulnerable to blunt instruments. “Oh,” he said, “no, sorry to be a buzzkill. She did not mount a bazooka to her shoulder or some other absurd thing. She is Norse, yes, but a Norse of a different colour.”
“So what happened?”
“As I said, we had been for ‘beerskis’ and brisket at the local brasserie, and then, while dancing a mazurka to the sound of a bouzouki played by a busker, I made myself so brazen as to suggest she invite me over for dessert.”
“How brash of you.”
“But she was not brusque in response. She led me to her flat, where I observed that she is a busy baker and had some lovely butterfly-shaped palmiers at the ready.”
“So much better to bite into than a shield,” I said.
“And no need for a knife,” Maury added. “But I feel I may have ruined the mood by being a bit blunt.”
“Well, you were probably a little hammered,” I said. “What did you say?”
“I was just wandering around the room, like a berk, and I picked up a picture from the buffet and said, ‘Who’s this babe?’”
“Was it a picture of her?”
“Well, I thought it was. It was a bare-skinned baby lying face-down on a bearskin rug.”
“That certainly seems appropriate for a berserker,” I said. I knew that Maury knew that the word berserk comes from Old Norse for either ‘bare skin’ – as in they fought while unclad – or ‘bear skin’ – as in they were clad in bearskins.
“And it would have been,” Maury said, “had it been of her. But she snatched it from my hand and went into a cleaning frenzy the likes of which I have seldom seen.” (Well, I thought, that’s appropriate: berserkers got things done briskly.) “Every loose piece of paper,” he continued, “odd book, what have you, she gathered up and stuffed them in a drawer that, I glimpsed, was also loaded with brassieres and other such business.”
“Did she explain?”
“No – rather, she attacked me. But in a good way, I guess. She grabbed me and started smooching me. Perhaps to take my attention away from anything she had missed ablating.”
“So did you find out who was in the picture, and why she went berserk?”
“I got an idea,” Maury said, “when I heard the door buzzer. She rushed over and pressed the intercom and a voice said, ‘Bazinga!’”
I looked at him quizzically.
“It seems,” he said, “she has a boyfriend. Who had arrived on a surprise visit.”
“Ah, well,” I said. “Them’s the breaks. And how did he react to your presence?”
“No idea,” Maury said. “I escaped via a window. But perhaps she will tell me on Wednesday – we have another date.”
I gave him a steady look. “You’re a real wild man.”
Sesquiotica 