Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01]

by The Reluctant Viking

  Before they left the room, Ruby noticed a bolt of the finest midnight blue wool she’d ever seen. She touched it lovingly, knowing it would match Thork’s eyes perfectly. She pictured in her mind a full-length cloak with embroidery along the edges, perhaps in a thunderbolt design like his earring.

  She dropped the soft fabric regretfully. Her arms were already loaded with the items she’d selected. This would be asking too much of Aud’s generosity.

  Aud smiled knowingly. “For Thork?”

  Ruby nodded.

  “Why stop now?” Aud handed her the fabric, with a sardonically raised eyebrow.

  Ruby gave her a quick hug as they left the room. She didn’t get a chance to make the meal that afternoon as she’d planned because she spent so much time in the village bartering with a woodworker and a leather worker for some items she needed made. Both had young wives who practically drooled over the sample lingerie set she’d brought, urging their reluctant husbands to do the required work in an almost impossibly short time so they could have their own custom-made underwear. Ruby’s task was made more difficult because she had no paper to explain her ideas and had to draw with a stick in the dirt.

  On the way back, she made Vigi stop with her in a small orchard where she saw ripe peaches hanging from a number of trees. She picked a dozen of the biggest, most succulent ones. When she got back to the keep, she washed them at the well, found a round basket in the kitchen and asked Ella to take the gift up to Thork’s bedchamber and put it on the table near his bed.

  Ella grumbled at her task. “Seems to me ’twould have more meaning if you sent him a basket of cherries. Sour ones, no doubt!”

  Ruby asked Aud if she could use the table in her weaving shed to cut her patterns since her own tower room was so small and poorly lit. She worked for hours until the light dwindled, then went into the keep to prepare for dinner. Vigi was livid at having to follow her around on her woman’s work.

  She hadn’t seen Thork all day and was almost reluctant to run into him now. His anger when he’d left her the night before didn’t bode well for how he’d treat her today.

  Thork was madder than hell, and everyone around him that day knew it. He almost bit off his grandfather’s head when he merely asked how things had gone with Ruby the night before. He nicked Selik’s forearm with his sword during maneuvers. His spear broke during target practice because he’d thrust too hard. He noticed wryly that no one walked back to the keep with him before dinner that afternoon. When he got to the bailey, he called out to Tykir to get some soap and linens and meet him at the pond. “Let us see about that swimming lesson I promised you.”

  Tykir’s face lit up like a candle. If he had been a dog, he would probably have wagged his tail, Thork thought guiltily. All because he had shown him a tiny speck of attention. Thor’s blood! I cannot allow myself to start feeling guilty over my sons, or I will never be able to leave them behind.

  Before he left the courtyard, he called Eirik to him. The boy almost jumped out of his skin at having his father address him in front of his hesirs. “Eirik, I understand you boast of your swimming abilities. Come with us. We shall see what a fish you are.”

  Eirik smiled from ear to ear like a dimwit.

  Thork’s heart lurched. I better get the hell out of here and back to Jomsborg while I still can. But he was so damned tired of the pretense. Let people think what they would of his taking two orphan boys for a swim.

  Thork spent a pleasurable hour with his sons at the pond, for which he was sure he would be sorry later. Dar had many strange knights in his keep these days, any one of which could report back to his half-brother or Ivar or the Saxons.

  He turned his back on the boys before entering the water to hide his male parts. He had been in a state of near erection the entire day, thanks to the enticing wench who occupied his mind constantly.

  A virgin! By the love of Freya, who would have ever imagined it? Not him! She had the mouth of a seasoned whore and the sexual allure of an experienced woman in the bedding. And all those stories of a husband and two sons had been nothing but lies. He stiffened angrily, to think that he had been so taken in by her guile, that he had thought she might be different from all the other deceitful women he had known. Well, it would not matter much longer. He would be gone from Northumbria soon.

  “Is it true that you want to foster at the Saxon court?” Thork asked Eirik on the way back.

  His son’s face flushed. “She had no right to tell you.”

  “’Tis true?”

  Eirik hesitated, then admitted, “Yea, ’tis. ’Twill be hard times coming for the Vikings in Northumbria. ’Tis logical that we must learn their ways in order to defeat them or to live with them, whichever comes.”

  Thork was amazed and proud that his ten-year-old son could express himself so well. Before he could tell him so, Tykir interrupted, “Nay, ’twould be better to fight them all to the bloody end. We must become better warriors.” He blushed with embarrassment when his father and brother turned to him in surprise.

  “So, Ruby was right. You would choose to be a Jomsviking.”

  The imp raised his chin defiantly. “Yea, and I will be, too.”

  When he got to his chamber, Thork was still towel-drying his hair when he noticed the basket of fresh peaches on the table. He ate one while he dropped his tunic and codpiece on the floor. He ate another as he dressed and combed his hair.

  He shaved in front of a square of shiny metal. There were too many days on board ship and on the battle march when filth and fleas bred in a man’s beard. He liked to be clean-shaven when on land.

  He reached for a third peach, reminding himself to thank his grandmother for the thoughtful gesture, when he noticed a peach at the bottom of the basket that stood out because of its discoloration and odd bruising. Could it be poisoned? He looked closer. It had been deliberately marked to draw his attention. Then he saw the scrap of parchment under it. The message said, “I’m sorry. Ruby.”

  At first Thork picked up the basket, intending to throw the remaining peaches into the chamber pot, but then thought better of it. He shook his head from side to side. It was not such an awful thing she had done, leaving the fruit, but if she thought to make amends for all her lies with a basket of fruit, she would be sore disappointed.

  He was biting into his third peach as he entered the great hall a short time later and caught Ruby watching him. She smiled tentatively at him. He turned away rudely, not about to give her any encouragement.

  Throughout the meal, however, he could not help glancing her way down the long length of the tables which separated them. She wore the burgundy gown again, the one she had worn yestereve.

  The wench had somehow become near gorgeous in his eyes, even with that silly short hair. What had she called him? Drop-dead gorgeous. Yea, that was what she was. He liked the phrasing and rolled it on his tongue silently. He knew his fellow hesirs did not share his appreciation for Ruby’s beauty, that they found her too slim, too mannish, too coarse-tongued. To him, she seemed damned nigh perfect.

  He felt his half-erection come full bloom and swore aloud, then apologized to the cow-eyed maid who gasped beside him at his vulgarity. Thor’s blood! Elise was beautiful. Why had he thought of her as cow-eyed? Because Ruby had referred to her as such, that was why. Thork grimaced. He could not get the bloody wench out of his thoughts.

  Thork considered taking Linette back into his bed to appease his raging lust but decided that would be unfair to Linette. She deserved the marriage his grandfather had arranged, and he would do nothing to jeopardize her future. Perhaps he would go to the pond again after the meal to cool his hot blood.

  Thork sipped his wine thoughtfully throughout dinner and the endless entertainment that followed as his mind drifted, preoccupied with all he needed to do the next few days before the Althing. He was called jarringly back to the present when he heard Dar ask Ruby to sing a song for them.

  “Oh, no, please, not tonight,” Ruby begged off.


  “I insist,” his grandfather said, not unkindly.

  Ruby balked, and Dar stared her down.

  “Just one song then,” she conceded.

  She strummed the lute, bemused, apparently trying to pick an appropriate song for the crowd, which was still somewhat hostile after the scandalous show she had put on the night before.

  She kept her eyes averted from his, probably thinking he would insult her in front of the guests. Mayhap he would. First he would wait and see if she pulled one of her usual stunts.

  “I sang this song for you before and told you it was my husband’s favorite…”

  Thork stopped his cup in midair as he was raising it to his lips. She looked directly at him, then turned away quickly.

  “…but tonight I dedicate it to another man who, when the winter nights seem long and lonely, will be able to think of this song and any special…memories he may have created with a woman he might have loved…and lost.” Her voice wavered at the end. She sang “Help Me Make It Through the Night” in a husky voice that did not stray off key even once, as it usually did. The enthralled people leaned forward trying to hear all the whispery words. When she finished, Ruby bowed her head slightly in response to the congratulations the people showered on her, declined to sing another and walked stiffly out of the hall and up to her tower room—without once looking at Thork.

  Thork’s heart felt like the lead anchor on his ship. He closed his eyes wearily as the entertainment went on around him. How would he ever make it through the night, let alone the next week? Could he resist the overwhelming urge to make love with Ruby? And if he did take her to his bed, would that cure him of this raging fever in his blood? Somehow, he misdoubted it.

  When he opened his eyes, he saw that Dar studied him speculatively. Then he nodded as if he had made some decision. Thork did not trust his grandfather one whit and wondered what he churned now in his devious head.

  Ruby got up at dawn the next day, anxious to begin her sewing tasks. She worked the entire day and completed the sexy garment by midafternoon, having taken only one break to go to the garderobe and grab a bite to eat.

  She called Aud up to her room to model her new design.

  “What do you think?”

  “Oh, my!”

  “That good?”

  “He will not stand a chance. My poor grandson!”

  “I sincerely hope you’re right.”

  She went down to the kitchen then and asked the cook for a sirloin roast and some baking supplies. The servant grumbled but did as asked when she saw Aud walk into the room behind Ruby. Ruby almost choked when the heavyset cook bent over, revealing numerous nicks on her hairless legs.

  It took Ruby almost an hour to chop and pound the raw beef to the consistency of modern-day hamburger. It wasn’t as finely textured as it should be, but Ruby was able to form it into round patties. Laying them aside with slices of hard cheese, Ruby cut four-inch circles out of bannock as a substitute for hamburger buns. She smiled, supremely pleased with her makeshift efforts thus far.

  Then she made baklava—Jack’s favorite ultasweet honey dessert. All the ingredients were available—walnuts, butter and honey—except for white flour. Ruby improvised with barley flour. She had difficulty rolling it to the required paper-thinness because of its gritty texture, but she worked at it diligently until she attained a reasonable facsimile.

  While the baklava baked in the wood-fired oven, which Ruby watched closely, she started frying the hamburgers, making several extra for Aud and Dar to try. She made Thork’s medium rare.

  The baklava turned out a perfect golden brown, which Ruby cut into diamond shapes while still hot. She made up a platter for Thork with three cheeseburgers and a half-dozen pieces of baklava, then did the same for Dar and Aud. Placing both platters in a warming oven, she instructed Ella to place one before Thork after everyone was seated. “And make sure you don’t put it in front of the young heifer next to him.”

  “Heifer?”

  “You know, the cow-eyed girl.”

  Ella twittered, shaking her head. “What makes you think you can win the man through his stomach?”

  Ruby shrugged. “They say you can trap more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.”

  “Huh?”

  Ruby rushed back to her tower room and dressed hurriedly for dinner. She was one of the first seated in the hall after the tables were set up. Giant butterflies waltzed in her stomach as she watched Thork sit down beside “Cow-Eyes.” He didn’t even look toward Ruby.

  The jerk!

  The first course of dinner was already being served and still no Ella. Ruby pushed the food around her plate nervously.

  “Been filching any more wine?” her pimply-faced hesir said snidely.

  “Drop dead.”

  The young man blushed and turned away from her.

  Finally Ella stepped up to the dais, carrying two platters. She placed the first in front of Aud and the other in front of Thork.

  At first, Thork just stared at the odd items on his trencher, as if they might jump up at him. He picked up a cheeseburger gingerly between two fingers, examined it carefully, then took a hesitant bite. Ruby watched him chew slowly, break into a smile of appreciation, then wolf the three cheeseburgers down hungrily.

  He was not so hesitant about sampling the baklava. One bite and he closed his eyes in ecstasy over the sublime sweetness. It was just what Jack did when she baked this dessert for him, although, she must admit, she hadn’t made it in years. Ruby frowned at the thought.

  Thork was eating his fourth piece of baklava when he glanced around and noticed that his dining companions weren’t sharing the same fine fare. He chewed the piece thoughtfully. Ruby knew the exact moment he realized that she’d made these favorite foods for him. He looked at her suddenly, pinning her with his gaze. Studying her over the rim of his ale horn, he seemed to be trying to figure out her game.

  Having accomplished her goal, Ruby nodded at him, much as a chess player might do when he’d checkmated a foe. She rose from her seat and went to her room, exhausted by her day’s work, but extremely satisfied. She fell into a deep sleep, knowing she had a full day ahead of her tomorrow.

  The minute she woke up, Ruby began rolling string into a tight ball and didn’t stop until she had a three-and-a-half-inch ball. Next she covered it with soft leather she’d bartered from the cobbler, using fine stitches to hold the seams together.

  It was the sorriest looking baseball she’d ever seen.

  After breaking her fast in the empty hall and using the garderobe, she went to the pond with Ella and Vigi to bathe. Afterward, they walked to the village, where they first stopped at the woodworker’s home.

  Ruby examined the smoothness of the baseball bat the craftsman had made for her from a piece of solid hickory. It looked perfect to her, but she really knew little about the correct dimensions of a baseball bat.

  Next, she asked for the jump rope. The woodworker had carved wood handles and attached them to a length of rope. Ruby took all the items outside.

  First she tried out the jump rope on the hard-packed dirt. It was perfect. She thought Vigi and Ella would die laughing.

  Then she instructed Vigi to step about twenty feet away from her and throw the baseball at her. At first he refused. “Nay, I will not throw a hard object at a woman.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. I’m going to hit it with this bat.”

  “Nay, you never are!” Ella exclaimed.

  Ruby did, much to her delight.

  They drew quite a crowd of scandalized villagers by then. Ruby decided it was time to move on to the cobbler. She gave the wooden high heels to the cobbler that the woodworker had just made for her, instructing him on how they would fit onto the leather soles of the high-heeled slippers.

  “’Tis half-witted you are to want such,” he told her.

  “Probably. I’ll be back tomorrow to pick them up.”

  When they got back to the keep, Ruby sought out Eirik a
nd Tykir to give them her gifts. She got a smile from both of them when she demonstrated the jump rope.

  Tykir hugged her spontaneously in thanks. “Why do you give me a gift?”

  “I wanted you to have something to remember me by if I have to leave Jorvik after the Althing.” She didn’t want to scare him by mentioning the fact that she might be dead. He probably knew that anyway.

  Next she showed Eirik how to use the bat and baseball, drawing a picture of a baseball diamond in the dust with her finger. She threw a few practice throws at him, and he was surprisely good right from the start.

  No hugs from Eirik, though he did thank her begrudgingly. She told herself not to be disappointed, that the delight on his face should be thanks enough. Before Ruby left them to go into the manor, Eirik called after her, “’Tis a fine gift.” Ruby turned and saw him blush at this retreat from his innate hostility.

  Oh, hell! What do I have to lose? Ruby walked back and hugged the boy tightly. Despite the stiffness of his body, he did not turn away from her embrace, and Ruby felt she’d finally accomplished something in her travel through time.

  Thork stomped back to the manor at midday, looking for a dozen young hesirs who were missing from the practice field, not to mention Eirik. He stopped abruptly when he reached the field just outside the bailey.

  A diamond shape had been marked in the grass with what seemed to be barley flour, and small sacks were laid at each of the points. Selik was throwing a round leather object to Eirik, who attempted to hit it with a stick of wood. When the wood finally connected with the ball, Eirik shrieked with laughter and ran toward one of the sacks while the boys and young men in the field scrambled to catch the ball.

  It was the first time in a long, long time Thork had heard the boy laugh. How could that be? He was only ten years old. He frowned thoughtfully. Why hadn’t he realized before what a solemn child Eirik was?