Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01]

by The Reluctant Viking

  “Stop it!” Ruby gasped and whisked his hand away. “I can’t think when you do that.”

  “Do what?” Thork asked, his blue eyes wide with feigned innocence.

  Ruby laughed at this playful side of Thork. “You know exactly what I mean, you tease. Anyhow, instead of trying to seduce me, why don’t you get rid of some of your excess energy down there on the ballfield?” When he seemed reluctant to remove himself and his feathery fingers, Ruby challenged him, “Come on, big guy. I bet you can’t even hit the ball.”

  “Excess energy!” Thork laughed. “Is that what they call it in your country?” He leaned closer, his hot breath tantalizing her parted lips. With a smug grin, Thork whispered, “And what do I get if I win the wager?” Dipping his head, he lowered his mouth and grazed her lips lightly in question. When he pulled away, Ruby’s lips followed his instinctively. He chuckled gleefully at her open response.

  “I have nothing of value that you would want,” Ruby rasped out softly and sat up, hugging her knees. Thork followed suit and held her eyes steadily.

  “Nay, never think it.”

  Ruby arched her eyes in doubt. “I offered more to you than any woman could, and you rejected it every time.”

  “Hah! Not because I did not want you, sweet witch. Nay, never that!”

  Ruby smiled widely at his backhanded compliment.

  Thork poked her in the ribs with a forefinger playfully and cautioned, “Do not think you have won any great battle with such a meager concession on my part.”

  “Oh, no, I would never think that, but a teensy little skirmish…couldn’t I claim that?” she bantered. Actually, Ruby felt as if she’d won the whole bloody world with his admission. Was this a first step toward something more?

  “Ah, sweetling, do not look at me like that.”

  “How?”

  “Your smile is edged with sadness, but your eyes glisten still with hope. Can you not accept the fact that there will be no future betwixt us, Ruby?” He shook his head in emphasis, then added softly, “Even though ’tis pleasant to think of what might have been.”

  He stood abruptly then, obviously uncomfortable with the direction of their discussion. Gazing down at her, he asked with overbearing confidence, “So you think I could not hit a piddling-sized ball with a hunk of wood? We shall see.” He strode off down the slope to the field where the boys played ball. Over his shoulder, he informed her with jiggling eyebrows, “I will decide on my forfeit later.”

  Thork talked to Eirik for a few moments before he picked up the bat. Like a true athlete, he held it in several positions to feel its weight, scrutinized the angle of the pitcher’s position, seemed to smell the wind, then took the batter’s position.

  THWACK!

  Ruby wasn’t surprised when the ball whistled over the astonished heads of Eirik and the other players and continued in a flying arc way past the outfield. Eirik beamed with pride at his father’s expertise. Thork declined to run the bases, only wanting to prove a point to her, and handed the bat to the next player. He flashed Ruby a huge smirk when he turned and strutted arrogantly toward her.

  Good Lord! A Viking jock!

  “Shall we negotiate my forfeit, wench?” Thork asked smoothly as he reached out a hand and hauled her to her feet. Ruby’s heart skipped a beat when he twined his fingers in hers. Like a lifeline, she felt his pulse beat against hers in their joined palms as they walked back to the tents. “You did not wait for me yestereve,” Thork complained softly.

  “I didn’t think you wanted me to.” Ruby glanced sideways at him in surprise at his abrupt change of subject. Had he been disappointed to find her gone? “I thought the moment had passed, that your usual cool reason had doused your hot blood by the time you returned to the room.”

  “Hot blood, huh?” Thork grinned. “Didst you think I only wanted you when you had stoked my lust with that”—Thork stopped for loss of words and smiled with a shake of his head—“with that tiny wisp of a garb designed, no doubt, to make a man’s tongue hang out. Not to mention other body parts. By the by, I found it under my bed this morn.”

  Ruby’s heart soared with hope. What exactly did he mean? She studied his inscrutable face, seeing only the intensity of his expression. Thork seemed to deliberate for several moments the wisdom of disclosing his inner thoughts. With the knuckle of his right hand, he caressed her jaw from ear to chin and back.

  Wistfully he finally whispered, “Sweetling, I want you in the morn when I waken and remember my night dreams of you boldly seducing me.” His blue eyes locked with hers to seal his soul-wrenched message, and Ruby felt her world tilt. “I want you when I see you touch my sons with kindness. I want you when I hear you sing about making it through the night. I want you when you speak of kisses that last three days. God’s blood, I want you when you make me laugh. Yea, I do. But one thing you must never misdoubt, sweetling—I want you.”

  Ruby had trouble speaking over the lump in her throat. “But you resist me, Thork. Despite everything you say, you won’t let me get close. Whether you believe what I say about the future or not, you obviously recognize this bond between us.” She put her hand up to his face and stroked it lovingly. “I don’t know if you’re Jack or just a time reflection of him, but I love you. I know that now, and, dammit, I don’t know what to do about it anymore.” She raised tear-filled eyes to his, looking for answers. “I’ve tried every stupid trick in the book to seduce you, and—”

  “Shush,” Thork whispered, pulling her into his arms, his lips in her hair. “’Tis not our time, Rube. In truth, ’twill never be. Mayhap ’tis why your God gave me another chance in another lifetime, if your tales of the future be true.” His voice was deep-timbered with regret for his heartfelt words.

  Rube! He’d called her Rube. “Why did you call me that?”

  “What?”

  “Rube. You called me Rube.”

  Thork shrugged, puzzled at the importance she placed on a simple word. “It just came out that way. Do your people never shorten names?”

  The fine hairs stood out on Ruby’s arms. “Oh, Thork! Rube was Jack’s pet name for me. Can’t you see that your use of it is like an omen, as if God, or some higher being, were telling me everything will be all right?”

  “Let us speak no more of it, sweetling. It can only cause us both needless anguish.”

  Choked with emotion, Ruby asked with a tearful laugh, trying to lighten Thork’s mood, “What did you do with my teddy? Will you put it under your pillow on the long winter nights in Jomsborg to remind you of what you might have had?”

  “You call that lacy man-teaser a teddy? How odd!” The corners of his lips lifted enticingly, even though his eyes remained dull with a resigned sadness.

  Ruby wiped at the wetness rimming her eyes with the back of her hand, laughing despite her desolation. “Well, it’s a special design of mine—a combination bustier and teddy.” Her eyes narrowed and she asked menacingly, “You wouldn’t think of giving it to another woman? If you do, I swear I’ll put a curse on you—from wherever I am.”

  Thork laughed and swung her around in his arms with pure joy. When her feet touched the ground again, he answered, “Nay, you are the only woman ’twould suit. Leastways, I decided on my forfeit for our baseball wager. You must model the teddy for me again. One last time.”

  “You better make it soon…before the Thing,” Ruby declared grimly. “The outfit goes better with a head, and you’d never be able to get the bloodstains out of silk.”

  “I find your humor ill-timed and inappropriate.” His jaw tightened at her sick joke. Then he turned and walked away from her stiffly.

  Ruby decided that Thork must care for her, more than he would acknowledge to himself, and the prospect of her death frightened him. That didn’t speak well for Thork’s optimism about her fate at the Althing. Ruby shivered apprehensively.

  Just before she stepped inside the tent, Ruby saw Selik approach with shoulders drooping. “What’s the matter?” she teased. “Did y
ou strike out tonight?”

  The uncommonly handsome man had a notorious reputation for attracting females. Ruby pitied Astrid if she hoped to keep this womanizer tied to a hearth fire.

  “Strike out? I did not play baseball tonight.” Selik arched his dark brows, a sharp contrast to his almost-white hair. He tilted his head quizzically as he looked Ruby over from head to foot, probably assessing whether she would be worth the trouble of his amorous advances.

  “I wasn’t referring to baseball,” Ruby said, amused at his transparency. “I meant that you looked like a horny male who hadn’t been lucky tonight.”

  “Lucky? What language do you speak?”

  “Oh, Selik! It’s just an expression. You know, if you found a woman to share your tent, you might say, ‘I got lucky tonight.’”

  His face lit up with understanding. “So to be unlucky is to strike out?”

  “Right!”

  “I like that,” he said with a nod, “although I usually only hit home runs.”

  When she made a tsk-ing sound of disgust at his conceit, he smiled widely, exposing the whitest, evenest teeth Ruby had ever seen outside an orthodontist’s office. Despite his devastating good looks, Ruby felt no attraction whatsoever toward him. She was deliberating over that sudden insight when Selik asked in a low, silky voice, “Did your husband really shave your legs?”

  “Yes, he did,” Ruby answered, laughing at his bluntness.

  “Mayhap I would enjoy doing that for you…seeing as how you have no husband to—”

  “Mayhap you would like to have your balls cut off.”

  Ruby and Selik both jumped at the voice behind them. It was Thork.

  “Hardly.” Selik answered dryly, crossing his legs comically to cover his genitals in pretended horror.

  “Then get the hell to your own tent where you belong.”

  Ruby and Selik gaped at Thork, finding it hard to comprehend Thork’s anger over a casual conversation.

  “Methinks the man is testy because he was unlucky tonight,” Selik bantered, glancing pointedly at Ruby, then inquired sweetly, “Didst thou perchance strike him out?”

  Ruby bit her lip to stifle a giggle.

  “Do not push me, Selik. You will not like the results.”

  “Methinks you play the dog in the manger,” Selik said with a grin, apparently undaunted by Thork’s dire warnings. “If you do not want the wench, Thork, there are others who do.” Selik winked slyly at Ruby.

  “Ruby is my responsibility, boy. Go find some dimwitted slut who knows not the difference between a man and a boy.”

  Instead of taking umbrage at the insult, Selik hooted with glee at the expression on Thork’s face. “Smitten! Thor’s blood! Ne’er did I think to see the day! The maid has skewered you good and fine.”

  After Selik left, Ruby and Thork continued to hear his fading laughter.

  “So now you practice your wiles on boys.”

  “I did not.”

  “Best you be praying instead of flirting, wench,” he lashed out, reminding her of her dire circumstances.

  Before Ruby fell asleep that night, she decided she liked Thork’s proprietary manner. It spoke of deeper feelings he would not admit.

  When she awakened early the next day, she ate a cold meal and washed up in a stream, then went to the opening ceremonies for the Althing with Aud. Women didn’t participate, except as occasional witnesses, but they were permitted to watch. A massive, open-sided tent screened a low platform from the summer sun. Sigtrygg sat in the place of honor, along with twenty well-dressed jarls, including Dar. At least five hundred freemen of Northumbria, who had the right to vote, surrounded them on the ground.

  “With the law shall the kingdom be built up, and with lawlessness wasted away,” a booming voice called out, officially declaring the opening of the Althing.

  “That is the law speaker, Assen.” Aud pointed to an imposing figure who had moved to the head of the jarls. “He will read one-third of all the laws contained in the Danelaw legal codes from memory, then one-third next year and one-third the following year. Listen, he explains the Viking law and specific crimes and punishments.”

  While some of the punishments were downright barbaric, such as chopping off a hand for thievery, or stoning a witch, or decapitating a traitor, most of the laws were based on a simple premise: an innocent man should not be unjustly accused, and the guilty should not be protected.

  “Your case will not come before the Thing today,” Thork said, coming up to Ruby where she sat on a slight hill to the side of the platform. She and Aud had a perfect view of the proceedings under Vigi’s diligent guard.

  Ruby breathed a sigh of relief at Thork’s words.

  “There are so many disputes to hear, it may be two days afore they get to you.”

  “Is that good or bad for me?”

  “It could go either way.” He shrugged. “Depends on the mood of the jarls—or Sigtrygg. Need I warn you to behave yourself until then?

  Ruby shook her head. Thork looked as if he wanted to say more, then thought better of it before he turned and walked away to join his friends.

  First the assembly discussed King Athelstan’s proposal that King Sigtrygg marry his sister. Sigtrygg stood, an impressive sight in a jewel-studded purple tunic and a gold circlet around his forehead denoting his rank. “Good people, I would announce my betrothal to the Saxon sister of King Athelstan.”

  A murmur of protest arose in the crowd.

  “Nay, think not that I wish this joining, but I have been convinced ’twould be in the best interest of all Vikings in Northumbria.” Sigtrygg looked pointedly at Thork in the front row. He went on to discuss all the advantages that Thork had mentioned at the castle the first night Ruby had arrived in Jorvik.

  The assembly decided that a representative of the king should attend Athelstan’s coronation ceremony on the fourth of September at Kingston, where a date would be set with Athelstan for a fall meeting between the two kings and a January wedding at Tamworth.

  Then the Thing moved on to the routine business of settling legal disputes—everything from disagreements over property lines to murder. Ruby sat fascinated for hours, even after Aud went back to the tent to rest.

  Each time a new case came up, the law speaker outlined the charges or the dispute to the panel on the platform, loud enough so that all could hear. Each side brought their supporters or witnesses with them. They faced each other, with the law speaker acting as arbiter, fielding questions from the king and jarls, as well as freemen in the assembly. Questions were decided on a final vote, not by a ballot or voice vote, but by vapnatak, the rattle of weapons.

  Most of the fines were paid in a complicated system of wergild, a person’s worth measured in silver or wool or cows. If a slave had been murdered, the wergild to be paid would be less than for a hesir. For raiding a neighbor’s lands, a Viking could be outlawed, which meant exile from the territory and forfeiture of lands and belongings. Anyone could kill that man with impunity if he stayed.

  “Do you enjoy our Thing?” Byrnhil asked, sliding down onto the grass next to Ruby.

  “Byrnhil! How wonderful to see you again!”

  The king’s mistress wore a spectacular red silk, full-length tunic, her attire more suited to a palace than an outdoor event. Gold bracelets and brooches studded with rubies and emeralds flashed in the sunlight, and she had a narrow gold circlet on her forehead, like a queen.

  “This is fascinating,” Ruby said. “I can’t believe the Vikings have such an intricate justice system.”

  “We Vikings have always had a great respect for laws. Why would you think otherwise?”

  Ruby smiled, ignoring her question, and put her arm around Byrnhil’s shoulders. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her friend. “Have you been jogging lately?”

  “Yea, I have, and now travel twice as far each morning as we did afore.”

  “Four miles! Not bad!”

  “’Tis strange. I get this wonderful
feeling when I run, almost like the intoxication from fine wine. I cannot see why more people do not do this exercise.”

  “Endorphins,” Ruby informed her on a giggle. “It’s called a jogger’s high.”

  Byrnhil smiled at Ruby’s strange words and asked her to join her for the midday meal. Vigi, of course, followed them. As they walked, Ruby feasted her eyes on all the sights. Servants roasted whole pigs and deer over open fires. In one massive, wood-lined pit, thralls dropped chunks of meat, juniper berries, mustard seeds, garlic and other herbs into water kept boiling with hot stones—a primitive form of slow cooking. Men roped off areas for the evening’s competitions—weightlifting, wrestling, stallion fighting, races and games of skill, like archery, spear throwing and swordplay.

  Craftsmen and merchants set up tables in front of their tents to sell their wares. She and Byrnhil stopped repeatedly to look and touch—everything from carved ivory combs to silk scarves from the Orient to the much-valued amber beads.

  “What do you think will happen to me at the Thing?” Ruby finally asked. She and Byrnhil sat on elaborately carved chairs inside a large tent set up for Sigtrygg near the edge of the clearing.

  “I doubt the assembly would order your killing unless someone has come up with some evidence to prove you do spy.” She scrutinized Ruby’s face for hidden answers. “’Tis a most grievous offense, to be proven a spy. Then no one could save you.”

  Later, when Ruby and Vigi returned to their tent area, they saw that the men had already returned from the Thing. Thork, Dar, Selik, the two boys and a dozen hesirs were gathering linens, soap and changes of clothing to take to the stream where they would bathe before the evening meal and entertainment.

  Selik started to walk toward Ruby, but Thork grabbed him by the neck and pulled him along with the men.

  “Odin’s spit, you will break my neck,” Selik grumbled.