Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01] (25 page)

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 and 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?

Thork’s attention was diverted to the bailey where Tykir was jumping up and down over a rope that he swung over his head, counting all the time. Each time he missed he started over again, laughing delightedly in a way Thork had never heard.

Thor’s blood! Not Tykir, too!

His eyes narrowed. It was Ruby’s doing, he was sure. She was turning his family and his life upside down. “Selik, get the hell back to the practice field and take the rest of these milksops with you,” Thork yelled.

Selik jumped guiltily.

Then Thork smiled and complimented Tykir, “Very good,” as he passed him before going to the well for a drink of water.

Thork stifled an impulse to seek Ruby out and demand to know what she was up to, but that was probably just what she wanted. In fact, she probably stood at one of the windows now watching him. He stuck out his tongue at the nearest window, just in case, then sheepishly ducked his head when he recognized his grandfather’s gray hair.

“Testing for rain?” Dar asked, sticking his head through the window.

Thork shook his head from side to side. The wily wench would make him as strange-headed as she was by the time he finally departed. And, Lord, he was beginning to realize just how much he was going to miss her. He could not imagine a time when he had not known her. He hated to
think of how empty his life would be without her. When he finally arrived back at the practice field, he roared at his men, “You men have become bloody weaklings. Perchance I have not worked you hard enough. Today, I swear, we will work
all
the kinks out or die in the trying.” He ignored the grumbles of complaint and those men he heard griping, “’Tis all the fault of the wench from hell.”

Ruby wasn’t watching Thork. She was in her room, working frantically to complete his cloak. In two days, they would all leave for Jorvik and the Althing.

She’d always been a fine seamstress and enjoyed working with her hands, especially when the material was as fine as this wool. Ruby had made her career based on a sewing talent, so making a cloak for Thork was an easy task. She cut and sewed the voluminous garment in half a day, including the finely stitched hem. The embroidery took much longer. Ruby decided to alternate the thunderbolts worked in silver thread with Thor’s gold hammer called Mjollnir, or lightning. The cloak would be stunning. Ruby expected to complete it by tomorrow night.

At dinner that evening, Thork made no pretense of his interest in Ruby and disinterest in the shy maid beside him. Ruby squirmed uncomfortably under his constant gaze from the head table but refused to kowtow to the warning messages he sent. She knew the baseball and jump rope had become an instant hit among young and old alike.

Thork probably interpreted her gifts as further goads aimed at him. That wasn’t true. She had other things in mind to rattle the arrogant Viking.

Thork surprised her by approaching her end of the hall after the meal. “No more tricks tonight from your bag of sorcery? No peaches or toys? No special meals to tempt the mouth?”

“I decided to give you a rest for tonight,” Ruby replied enigmatically.

“Were you not warned to stop pushing me?”

“I’m not afraid of you. The Althing and Sigtrygg and some of these other vicious Vikings—yes, I fear them—but not you.”

Thork gritted his teeth, and his face turned stormy.

“Do you question my manhood?”

“Are you kidding? That’s the last thing I would question, but I think you care for me, more than you realize. You wouldn’t harm me.”

“Wench, you are above yourself. If I thought for one moment you spied for Ivar or were a threat to my family, I would kill you in a trice.”

“That’s just it. I’m none of those things.”

“But a liar you definitely are. That was proven when I discovered your virginity.”

“Oh, Thork!” she sighed woefully. “Why won’t you just give in and marry me?”

Thork laughed at her persistence. “Nay.”

“Will you stand up for me at the Althing?”

“Why should I?”

“To save me from being killed.”

“Save your breath, wench. I will not betray my fellow Vikings to save your skin. And think again if you consider yourself aught but an enticing piece of flesh to me. Never will you win this battle.”

“Never say never, sweetheart,” Ruby challenged cryptically and walked away from him haughtily, swaying her hips in exaggeration. She heard several hesirs laugh behind her, but realized too late what Thork planned. He reached out and tweaked her behind, ensuring he got the last laugh from the hooting hesirs.

Ruby turned back indignantly. “You are a vulgar, vulgar man.”

“Nay, wench, you asked for that, swishing your arse
like a dockside tart,” Thork defended himself with a laugh.

“I did not,” Ruby declared lamely and left the hall, her prideful chin still held high.

Ruby finished the cloak the next day, then went to the village to pick up her leather, high-heeled sandals. They weren’t quite what she’d planned. The woodworker had somehow made one of the heels slightly shorter than the other, causing her to hobble when she walked. There was no time to fix them since they left for Jorvik the next day.

“Do you try to get Thork’s pity by making him think you are a cripple?” Ella inquired.

“No, men in my country like to see women in high heels. They think it makes a woman’s legs look sexy.”

Ella eyed her skeptically. “Even when they walk like a crone?”

“No.” Ruby laughed. “Women can walk fine in them. In fact, it causes them to sway when they walk in sort of a sexy way.”

Ella rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps I’ll just pose in them. Now that I think about it, moving around in these primitive high heels probably isn’t a great idea.”

“Mayhap you have lost your mind completely.”

The next night Thork decided to retire immediately after the meal. He had no intention of returning to his grandfather’s estate after the Althing, so he had spent an exhausting day loading wagons with the last of the trading goods for his ships.

He noticed Ruby’s absence from the evening meal.

“Mayhap her stomach ails and she could not sup,” the thrall Ella said, shifting her eyes slyly when he asked about her whereabouts.

“’Tis nervous she is about the Althing and wanted to rest,” his grandmother offered and also averted her eyes from Thork’s direct gaze.

“How should I know?” his grandfather snapped. “Think you I know her every move?”

“I will probably find a snake in my bed,” Thork grumbled as he walked away, excusing Dar’s abrupt manner as regret over his imminent leavetaking.

Thork yawned widely as he opened the door of his darkening chamber. He laid his sword and knife on a chest, lit two soapstone lamps, then yawned again. It would be a long day tomorrow with all the wagons and guests who would travel with them to Jorvik. He hoped to get an early start. He turned then and jumped.

“Thor’s blood, woman, what do you here? Wouldst thou fright me to death to accomplish thy goals?”

Ruby stood at the far end of the room in a dim corner wearing a magnificent bright blue cloak with fine embroidery around the edges. ’Twas odd, though, because it dwarfed her with its massive folds, and its hem hugged the floor.

Thork narrowed his eyes suspiciously and started back toward the door, not wanting to tempt fate by being in the same room with the wanton wench—virgin though she may be. And where was that cursed Vigi? He was supposed to be guarding Ruby at all times, keeping her away from him.

“No, don’t go,” Ruby said and wobbled toward him, probably hampered by the oversized garment, Thork thought. “I just want to give you a going-away gift. This cloak. I made it for you and did all the handwork myself. Do you like it?” Her voice wavered nervously.

“’Tis a fine cloak, but why wouldst thou make me a gift?” Truly, the garment was a work of art, as fine as any he had ever seen in his travels. Thork glanced at her suspiciously. “Do you bribe me now?”

“No. This gift has no strings attached. It’s just a memento of our time together. I offer it as sort of an apology for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

Like all Vikings, Thork appreciated the giving and receiving of gifts. It would be rude to deny her offering. Thork nodded his acceptance. Besides, ’twas true she had caused him much trouble.

“Turn around so I can put it on your shoulders and see if it fits properly.”

Thork turned away from her and felt her reach up and place the cape on his shoulders. Actually, he was glad she was taking their parting so well. ’Twas best to part with a woman amicably, no bad feelings left to ferment. He was a man slow to forgive his enemies, but Thork was in a magnanimous mood on the eve of his departure for Jorvik, and, after all, the wench had not really done anything that evil. True, she had lied about her virginity and more, but ’twas no different from any other self-serving female he had encountered. ’Twas the nature of the species. He turned to tell her that and gasped in astonishment, “Holy blood!”

Ruby had stepped away from him and stood next to the bed holding on to the bed post as if for support. She wore this…this thing that pushed her breasts up and out at the top and exposed her legs from the hip bone all the way down to her…oh, my God!

“What the hell are those things on your feet?” The wench leaned precariously on wobbly legs. No wonder! Her feet were encased in leather slippers with wooden stilts.

“High heels. Do you like them?”

“What purpose do they serve? Can you walk?”

“Yes…no. Well, normally I could, but your village woodworker made one heel shorter than the other. Men in my country think it makes a woman’s legs look sexy. Don’t you?”

“I am not sure. Come near so I can see.” Thork had trouble controlling the twitch in his lips.