“Better that than another part of your body.”
Selik looked back at Ruby over his shoulders and rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Act your age,” Thork barked at him.
When they were gone, she and Aud exchanged glances.
“’Twould seem my grandson has a burr under his skin. He behaves like a jerk.”
Ruby laughed. “You like that word, don’t you?”
“Yea, almost as much as ‘male chauvinist pig.’ Dar mislikes my using the words, though. So I practice on the servants.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
That evening, the family walked back to their tents from the king’s section of the campsite where they’d spent hours listening to music and the skald’s renditions of Viking sagas. Ruby held back to talk with Thork.
“What? Is Selik busy this eve?” Thork sneered.
“Don’t be an ass,” Ruby chastised, though secretly pleased with Thork’s jealousy. “Do you honestly believe I would want to be just another notch on Selik’s womanizing belt?”
Thork understood what she meant instantly and laughed, shaking his head from side to side. “You have a gift, wench, for pulling me from my bad humors. ’Tis your way with those silly words. What will you come out with next?”
“Well, I did think of something that might save me with the Thing?” She looked up at him hopefully.
“And what, pray tell, might that be? I hope it does not involve me in any way,” Thork said with a wary smile, knowing she had a knack for surprising him.
“Don’t be sarcastic. It just occurred to me that since there are Christian churches in Jorvik I could seek the protection of the church. I’ve read about that in historical novels.”
“You would go into a nunnery,” Thork hooted and began to laugh uproariously. Dar and Aud looked back to see what amused Thork, but he dismissed their interest with a wave of the hand. Still chuckling, he told Ruby, “I can just see you wearing the staid religious garb with that ‘teddy’ underneath. ’Twould be enough to make the saints turn over in their graves.”
Thork burst into another fit of laughter and called Dar back to share in his mirth. When they began howling at the picture of Ruby in a nun’s robe, she stomped away.
It wasn’t that funny.
Ruby and Aud looked at each other in disgust and both said at the same time, “Jerks!” Then they erupted with their own peals of laughter.
It ended up being four days before Ruby’s case was called. By then she shook with nervousness and broke out in tears at the least provocation, especially because of the brutal punishments she’d witnessed so far. Six thieves had had their right hands chopped off before the entire assembly. They’d stoned an adulteress. A thrall who had killed his master had been decapitated, a sight Ruby refused to watch. While Aud agreed the punishments were gruesome to witness, she couldn’t understand Ruby’s condemnation of the process since the victims had been given “fair” trials.
Finally it was her turn. Dressed in her best clothing, the burgundy tunic dress Dar had given her, with Byrnhil’s emerald pendant, Ruby stood to the side while the law speaker called out her “crime.”
“Ruby Jordan, you are accused of being a spy for Ivar. What say you?”
“I am not guilty.”
“Are those your supporters behind you?”
“Huh?” Ruby turned in surprise. Lined up behind her were Dar, Aud, Olaf, Gyda, Selik, Byrnhil, and…Ruby’s heart lurched…Thork. His solemn eyes held hers for a moment before he nodded slightly, and she turned back to her accusers. “Yes,” Ruby replied meekly, tears filling her eyes. She wasn’t sure what their support meant but she thanked God for it.
The law speaker read off the long list of complaints against Ruby: that she’d shown up in Jorvik mysteriously, had no logical explanation for her background, wore a shirt that appeared to be a message from Ivar, preached birth control to their women and, in essence, could be a spy for one of their enemies. When he held the T-shirt up for the assembly’s inspection, a rumble of outrage rolled through the crowd at the words Brass Balls.
“What say you in your defense?”
“I come from America, a land beyond the Atlantic Ocean,” Ruby explained, trying to avoid mention of the future, not even sure if they called it the Atlantic Ocean then. “I’m lost but I’m certainly not a spy for anyone. Other than the shirt, which has no meaning whatsoever except for childish humor, I don’t think there’s any evidence to prove I’m a spy.”
“What say you to the charge that you want to kill off our young?”
“That’s ridiculous!” Ruby exclaimed, then clenched her fists to calm herself and the increasing stridency of her voice. “I don’t favor killing babies, either in or out of the womb. The only reason I mentioned birth control at all was the ladies in Jorvik were talking about a young woman who had ten children and who was in danger of dying in childbirth. I thought such a female could benefit from birth control information. I still do.”
“And the only reason she told the women in the palace about birth control was because I ordered her to,” Byrnhil inserted defiantly. “Some women would like to learn how to prevent conception.”
Sigtrygg barreled forward in anger at Byrnhil’s challenge, and hostile murmurings rippled through the crowd. “Remove thyself, woman,” Sigtrygg ordered sternly.
Brynhil could see she wasn’t helping Ruby, and she walked silently to the back of the tent.
Dar stepped up to the front and intervened, hoping to swing the crowd back to a more sympathetic mood. “The wench claims to be the granddaughter of Hrolf, The Marcher. Can we punish her on so little evidence without checking her claim first?”
Olaf, Aud and Gyda spoke then, telling of their associations with Ruby and convictions that she was just misguided in her words and actions, no real danger.
“I trust her with my daughters and would not do so if she were a spy,” Gyda declared with fierce loyalty.
God bless her Viking soul, Ruby prayed.
Finally, Thork cleared his voice to speak. When he stepped to the center of the tent, the silence of the crowd bespoke the respect he garnered. His proud stance was that of an authority figure used to having his opinions valued.
“The wench has been my responsibility, thanks to your orders, Sigtrygg,” Thork explained in a clear, articulate voice directed at the king, “and a bedeviling one, at that.” He grinned ruefully at Ruby in memory of just how outrageous some of her actions had been, then went on, “Whilst her background is still a mystery to me, I believe she merely suffers an ague of the mind.”
An ague of the mind! Give me a break!
Once again, Ruby had to clench her fists and press her nails painfully into her palms to restrain her temper, but her flashing eyes told Thork just what she thought of his ague of the mind.
“I disbelieve she spies. ’Twas proven when we captured and killed two true spies from Ivar,” Thork continued, addressing his comments to the noble Viking jury in true lawyerly fashion. He breathed deeply and concluded, “I would ask that the assembly absolve Ruby of all charges.”
“And do what with her?” Sigtrygg asked indignantly. “I want naught of her in Jorvik, spreading her tales, riling the women to trouble.” He threw his last words at Byrnhil who stood stubbornly in the background.
Thork’s face flushed at the question. Obviously, he didn’t think that her future, beyond this trial, was his continuing responsibility, Ruby realized painfully. He seemed to deliberate his next words carefully before speaking. “Perchance, if she were released, she could make her way back to her own country or to Hrolf in Normandy on a trading vessel. I would be willing to pay her fare.”
There was much questioning and discussion back and forth among the jarls on the platform. The free men on the grass clamored to offer their opinions, as well. Finally, the law speaker raised both arms in the air for silence.
“These are the issues to be decided here today: Is Ruby Jordan guilty of spying for our enemies? Is the
spreading of birth control information a crime under our law codes? Should the accused’s alleged kinship with Hrolf be at issue here?” Assen inhaled deeply and said loudly in a typical court crier voice, “Hear ye, good Norsemen all, what be your verdict?”
“Chop off ’er head,” one man in the crowd yelled.
Ruby cringed. So quickly, they were back to that decapitation stuff.
“Cut out ’er tongue,” another advised.
“Torture ’er till she confesses.” On and on the vile suggestions went, to Ruby’s dismay.
When everyone finished voicing an opinion, the speaker called for a vote. On the first charge of spying for Ivar, the assembly could not come to a majority opinion. They agreed to come back to that charge after discussing the others.
On the second question—whether her birth control lectures constituted a crime—Ruby was found innocent, though a fine was assessed for poor judgment and to discourage her from repeating the same mistake.
“I have no money to pay the fine,” Ruby said. “All I have is this.” She handed the law speaker her pendant.
“’Twould be sufficient,” he concluded after examining it carefully for its value. He handed it to Sigtrygg, who turned bright red with rage.
“That belongs to me,” Sigtrygg yelled at Ruby.
“No! You gave it to me and I gave it to Ruby.” Byrnhil contradicted him, coming forward once again.
Sigtrygg looked as if he’d like to throttle Byrnhil. “Shut your teeth, woman, lest I bring you afore this assembly for theft and aiding a spy. You overstep yourself mightily.” Sigtrygg sat back down, seething as he glared alternately at his mistress and Ruby.
Uh oh! Things were not looking good.
On the next question, of Ruby’s relationship to Hrolf, her supporters’ arguments convinced the assembly that the possible blood ties were worth investigating.
Brynhil sidled up to the king and whispered something in his ear. Thork looked at Ruby suspiciously, as if she and Brynhil conspired together. Finally, seeming to be fed up with the proceedings, Sigtrygg pulled away from his mistress and announced dogmatically, “I suggest the woman Ruby Jordan be taken under guard to Hrolf’s court in Normandy. If ’tis found she has lied, that will be taken as evidence that she had evil intents here in Jorvik—whether for Ivar or the Saxons or some other enemy—and she is to be beheaded on the spot. She is not to be brought back here for further trial.”
“What say you to King Sigtrygg’s suggestion?” the law speaker called out to the entire assembly, now restless after a long day of hearings and anxious to begin the evening’s entertainment.
Ruby crossed her fingers and said a silent prayer of hope.
The assembly agreed overwhelmingly, by voice and the loud clanging of battle shields, to the king’s solution, then stood to depart the Thing area. It happened so quickly that it took Ruby a few moments to realize that the Vikings had essentially found her innocent, at least for the time being. A thankful smile began to split her face, and she turned to share her happiness with Thork.
But Thork didn’t look happy at all. A frown creased his forehead, and his perplexed gaze darted from Ruby to Brynhil to the king and back again. “Wait!” Thork raised his voice, calling to Sigtrygg’s departing back, “I understand naught of your intent. What exactly happens to the wench now?”
King Sigtrygg stretched his massive frame and yawned hugely before turning to Thork and smiling craftily. “Why, ’tis simple. You will take her to Normandy, and you will behead her if she is not granddaughter to The Marcher.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Nay, I cannot do such,” Thork shouted, not caring if it was his king he addressed. “I go to Jomsborg.” His eyes blazed furiously.
“You can take the wench on the way to Jomsborg,” Sigtrygg advised unctuously, his face rigid at Thork’s questioning of his orders.
“On the way…on the way…,” Thork sputtered. “Normandy is nowhere near the route to Jomsborg.”
“I trust you, Thork, more than any other to undertake this task for me,” the king cajoled.
“What makes you think I would behead the wench?” Thork asked, running his fingers through his hair. “I have already said I do not think her a spy.” He flashed Ruby a quick look that said he would have plenty to say to her when he finished with the king.
“Yea, but that signifies naught. You cherish honor more than aught else. If Hrolf denies her, you would kill her if you had sworn me your pledge. Of that, I am certain.”
Thork snorted rudely at the blatant trickery in Sigtrygg’s oily words.
“Oh, and didst I mention,” Sigtrygg added, coolly examining his fingernails, “you will represent me at Athelstan’s coronation.”
Thork turned dark red as he cursed wildly.
“Do not think to say me nay on this,” Sigtrygg said in a steely voice that bespoke his rigid determination. “You know well and good you are the only Viking who knows his way round the Saxon court well enough to avoid a knife in the back.”
Thork’s eyes shot rebellious daggers at his king, but Sigtrygg faced him off stubbornly, with arms folded implacably over his mountainous chest. The retainer of royal bodyguards moved forward in a line behind Sigtrygg, daring Thork to defy the orders.
“I will find someone to do these duties for you,” Thork offered. “Mayhap Olaf could—”
“Nay! I cannot,” Olaf asserted loudly, affronted that Thork would throw him this unwelcome task. “Wife and family have I who need me here in Jorvik.”
“And I have a Jomsviking oath which I have ignored for two years.”
“Do you refuse my request?” Sigtrygg asked Thork bluntly.
“Can we discuss it further?” Thork evaded.
“Were you not the man who convinced me of the importance of a marriage alliance with Athelstan?”
“Yea, but—”
“Can you name one man who could carry out my orders as well as you?”
Thork thought for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed as he turned with deliberation. “Yea, my scheming grandfather could do the job very well. He has met both King Athelstan and Hrolf afore.”
Aud gasped and turned in outrage on her grandson. “For shame, Thork! Ne’er did I think you would do such to us.”
“You know I will be needed to protect my lands once the Saxons attack,” Dar said icily.
“You are right,” Thork said sheepishly. “I apologize. In my anger, I did not think.”
Dar and Aud nodded, accepting his apology.
“Well? What say you?” Sigtrygg asked Thork once again. “Enough time have we all wasted on this wench, and I mislike your churlish attitude. Thor’s blood! Surely one more month will not signify in your return to Jomsborg.”
“So be it then,” Thork conceded ungraciously. He started to storm away, then stopped abruptly in front of Ruby. Piercing her with icy blue eyes, he pointed a finger at her chest menacingly and stalked her as she backed away from him. “’Tis your fault. You will rue the day you ever met me, wench.”
Things were not going as Ruby had hoped. She should be deliriously happy. She had at least another month with Thork. Why couldn’t he share her good fortune? She tried to apologize. “I’m sorry, Thork. I never meant to be so much trouble to you.”
He said a very, very foul word.
“Thork, I—”
“Nay, speak not your lies,” Thork continued. “’Twas what you and Brynhil planned these four days past whilst you whispered and twittered like busy birds. You win, wench, but hold on to your tempting backside because you will pay well and good for each and every day you have delayed my departure.” For emphasis, he whacked her sharply on the rear, laughing mirthlessly, then motioned for Dar to join him.
While he waited, Thork derisively mimicked her apology aloud in a falsely feminine voice, “I never meant to be so much trouble to you.”
Ruby couldn’t believe she’d escaped Sigtrygg’s bloody temper once again, only to have her exultation over her death re
prieve cut off by Thork’s resentment.
Thork soon gave Ruby another reason to feel less than exultant. As she and Aud walked behind the men back to their tents, Thork told his grandfather with tired, but resolute, resignation, “If you think a marriage alliance with Elise would protect your holdings while I am gone, begin the betrothal negotiations.” He ignored Ruby’s gasp of hurt surprise.
“What?” Dar exclaimed. “I understand naught of your change of heart, boy. Why would you suddenly agree to marry when you have been so strongly opposed afore?”
“These past four days, as we have talked to our friends who live closer to the Wessex border, you and I have been given more than enough evidence that Athelstan plays a deadly game. He will attack at the first sign of weakness. We must do everything we can to protect ourselves.”
“Even if it means your marrying?”
“Even that,” he said, his lip curling with distaste.
“Well, the maid’s father did promise arms and men to aid us if there were a marriage pact. Mayhap a betrothal contract would suffice for now. Could we have the signing afore you depart?”
Thork nodded grimly. “Her brothers are in camp. We can send word to her father today and perchance have the signing on the morrow.” Thork pulled at his lower lip thoughtfully. “I will not give up Jomsviking. Think you the maid would accept that?”
“Hah! Little say she would have in the matter!”
“Even if they agree to a betrothal, it may be two years afore I could return for the wedding, but that should be no hindrance. Elise is only fifteen—a child.”
“You always said you wanted no children or family to tempt your brother Eric’s blade.”
“And still do not. I swear by Thor’s sword, there will be no other child of my loins born into this world,” Thork exclaimed vehemently. “But say naught of that to them for now. As for Elise, she has five brothers and a powerful father to protect her from Eric. My brother is no fool. He chooses his victims well. Leastways, he will know from my long absences how little affection I harbor for my wife. She will be safe, I warrant.”
Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01] Page 27
