“I think I would love to visit your land someday,” the king said on a sigh, then asked if she would tell him some of the stories for which she’d gained much fame, as well as sing her celebrated songs.
Ruby related her entire repertoire of children’s stories, and the king bemoaned the fact that his best scribe was ill and wouldn’t be able to transcribe them for him. He suggested she visit his scriptorium the next day.
Then she sang “Ruby” and “Lucille” for him and added the title song from the Broadway show Camelot, which she thought would especially appeal to King Athelstan since his court seemed to embody many of the same ideals. He was overjoyed with them all, even though the Welsh King Arthur was noted for his valor in fighting against the Saxons many years earlier. He asked if she would entertain his guests that night.
“I must decline for Ruby,” Thork interrupted. “We leave first thing in the morn for Normandy.”
“Normandy! Why?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
Ruby suspected that the king did not like her powerful Viking ancestor Hrolf. Certainly, she suddenly realized, it wouldn’t bode well for Saxon England if a coalition were formed between Northumbria and Normandy.
“Ruby claims kinship with Hrolf,” Thork said. “King Sigtrygg has directed me to take her to him.”
God bless Thork for not revealing any more details to the king, Ruby prayed silently. She looked thankfully to him, but he ignored her, giving his full attention to Athelstan, who still scrutinized them suspiciously.
“How interesting,” the king said, looking at Ruby with new eyes. Then he turned back to Thork. “Since you do not depart until the morn, why not go now to your ships to make final preparations and come back for the evening’s festivities?” Athelstan suggested. “Leave Ruby here to talk with me.”
Thork didn’t seem to like that idea at all, but said nothing, drawing his lips together in a thin line. Selik was clearly amused by Thork’s jealousy and irritation.
The moment they left, Athelstan pulled his chair closer to Ruby and told the nobles and retainers who stood behind him to leave. “When I was a child, my grandfather Alfred placed a scarlet robe around my shoulders and fastened a wondrous sword sheathed in gold at my side,” he confided to her as soon as they were alone. “Some people think that means he intended me to be king, that I was ‘born to the purple,’ but ’tis not so. My mother was a beautiful woman, but only a shepherdess, and my father Edward never wed her.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this?”
The king held up his hand as if he was getting to that. “My father married twice and acknowledged both women as queens. I am a mere caretaker king. ’Tis important to me to preserve the Alfredian succession for the young atheling princes, my half-brothers. To do that, I must remain—”
“—celibate,” Ruby finished for him, finally realizing the point of Athelstan’s discussion.
“I have heard that you—”
“—opened my big mouth in Jorvik and told the women about birth control.”
The charismatic young king smiled, pleased that she understood him so well. “This celibacy is not an easy virtue,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Ruby leaned forward and told him all she knew, which wasn’t all that much, but he was extremely interested in all of it.
That evening Ruby was already in the great hall, wearing the green silk tunic Astrid had given her with Thork’s dragon brooches and belt, when Thork and Selik finally returned. She sat at the high table at King Athelstan’s invitation, while Thork and Selik were placed several tables down below the salt.
She tried to listen attentively to all the king said to her, but her gaze kept turning to Thork who pierced her with his angry stare as he drank cup after cup of wine. Selik smiled, enjoying Thork’s discomfort immensely, clapping him on the shoulder in a comradely manner, which Thork shrugged off disgustedly.
An observant man. King Athelstan finally whispered to her, “Thork turns green with envy, my dear. He must love you very much.”
Actually, Thork’s face was red with rage at the king whispering so intimately in her ear, and Ruby feared he might do something to provoke a fight. “I must go now,” she told Athelstan.
“Oh, not afore you sing for us,” he demanded, and raised his hand for the dinner to end and the tables to be dismantled.
Ruby sang all her songs once again, even “Help Me Make It Through the Night,” and looked right at Thork, hoping he knew she sang it for him. The minute Ruby told the king she could sing no more, Thork was at her side, pulling her furiously from the hall.
“Never, never do that to me again,” he said through gritted teeth.
“What?”
“Flaunting yourself in invitation afore the king. Has he given up his vow of celibacy yet?”
Ruby would have laughed if Thork hadn’t looked deadly serious, and if she hadn’t sensed hurt beneath the angry words. She thought about telling Thork of her birth control discussion with the king but decided he wasn’t in a mood to appreciate the humor of it now. Maybe later.
“I did not flirt, or tease the king,” she told him patiently. “I just talked to him.”
“Thor’s blood! He fawned all over you.”
They were on the third floor, almost to their tower room, when Ruby broached a subject that had been bothering her all day. “Thork, we have to talk about what happened between us last night. It was wonderful, but it was a mistake. I was reminded of that when you told the king about Elise. We have to be strong. We can’t let it happen again.”
Thork opened the door, pulled her in, then pinioned her against the wall with his body and kissed her hungrily. Not satisfied with that, he lifted her off the floor by the waist so her feet dangled free and the vee of her legs met his raging arousal.
He groaned and rasped out, “God, Rube, I missed you so much today. Didst you even think of me?” He lifted her even higher, wrapped her legs around his waist and made a few deft adjustments of their clothing. Within seconds, he was driving into her with her back against the stone wall.
Ruby forgot about being strong. She forgot that this wasn’t supposed to happen again. She forgot everything except the moment, this man and the love she felt for him.
A few minutes later, Selik knocked on the door, saying that he needed to tell Thork something about their departure in the morning.
“Go away,” Thork grumbled, but when the knocking persisted, he finally opened the door with a loud curse.
Selik’s mouth dropped open. He gawked at their rumpled clothing and labored breathing.
“Good Lord, Thork, dare you to ever criticize me again I will remind you of this night. Forsooth! You have only been gone from the hall a few minutes, Thork. Canst you not control yourself better than this? Tsk tsk!”
Thork slammed the door in his smiling face.
The next morning, they arose at dawn, and after gathering their personal belongings in Thork’s bag, they went to look for Eirik. They found him in the great hall where he slept on a pallet next to his uncle Haakon. Eirik rubbed his eyes groggily, then looked sadly up at his father.
“You go now, so early?”
“Yea, we must make the tides by midday. Are you sure you want to stay, son? You can still change your mind.”
“Yea,” Eirik replied with a hesitant nod.
“So be it. I have left enough coins to cover your expenses for two years if I am not able to return afore then. If there is aught you need, or if you suspect danger of any kind, or if you no longer choose to foster here, you can send a message to your great-grandfather Dar through Vigi or one of the guards who stay with you. Do you understand?”
Once again, Eirik nodded, but tears welled in his eyes, the imminence of his father’s departure finally hitting him.
Thork quickly scanned the hall to see if anyone watched them. Feeling it was safe, he brusquely pulled Eirik into his arms, and they embraced each other tightly for a long time.
It was th
e first time Ruby had ever seen the father and son show physical affection for each other. Ruby closed her eyes briefly, painfully, at the sheer intensity of the moment. How many such moments had there been in the past?
Next it was her turn. “Eirik, take care of yourself. Always know that there are people in this world who love you very much—myself included,” Ruby choked out. “I think you can learn a lot from this Saxon king about what is important in life, besides military might. Take advantage of everything he can teach you.” Then, uncaring of whether he would resist her or not, Ruby hugged him warmly and kissed his cheek repeatedly, wetting his face with her tears.
Ruby wept silently as she and Thork and Selik walked across the bailey in stony silence toward the stables and the horses that would take them to the Thames River and Thork’s ships. Only once did she speak: “Thork, how can you bear to leave a ten-year-old boy like that?”
The hard, desolate eyes he turned on her almost broke Ruby’s heart. She wilted under Thork’s silent condemnation of her hasty words. Then he strode ahead, leaving her behind with Selik.
Even Selik was not his usual joking self. “Best leave him alone for a while. ’Tis how he always acts when he must leave his sons.”
With all the river traffic from King Athelstan’s coronation, it took Thork’s five ships a day to maneuver through the Thames to the open seas. The smells, congestion and frustrating delays managed to transform bad moods into even worse ones by the time they camped for the evening.
That night in their tent, which was pitched on the periphery of the campsite, Ruby took the initiative in their lovemaking, trying to make up to Thork with gentle caresses and sweet words for the loss she knew he must feel over leaving his son. How he had done it all these years was beyond her comprehension.
When she’d first met Thork, Ruby had thought of him as cruel and unloving to abandon his two sons. Now she wondered if he wasn’t, in fact, an incredibly brave man who was bleeding inside with loneliness.
Over and over during the night, Ruby whispered, “I love you.” He never returned the words to her, and that tore at her heart, but Ruby said them nonetheless because she was increasingly convinced that no one, not a father or mother, not a child, not even a loved one—no one—had ever said the words to him before. How could any person—man or woman, child or adult—live without ever feeling loved? It was a chilling thought.
They didn’t depart for Normandy the next day. Instead, all the goods on the five ships were unloaded and rearranged around their campsite. Apparently, while they relaxed at Athelstan’s coronation, Thork’s men had been busy trading in London and had sold what amounted to two shiploads of goods.
Thork decided that two empty ships would return to Jorvik where Olaf would reload them with trading products and then meet Thork and Selik in Hedeby, a trading town on the southern tip of the Jutland peninsula. After Thork finished his business in Normandy, he and Selik would go on to Hedeby, then Jomsborg, where the ships would be transformed into military vessels.
During the day, the men snickered at the soft glances Thork and Ruby exchanged constantly. At night, through whispered words and feathery caresses, Ruby and Thork spun webs of love, unspoken on his part, that drew them closer and closer together. Limited by the close proximity of Thork’s shipmates in their nearby tents, their lovemaking was gentler and quieter than their wild, frenzied coming together in King Athelstan’s palace, but equally satisfying.
Ruby no longer fought their lovemaking as an unwise decision. Instead, she treated it as fate—an inevitable progression in her strange travel through time, something that was preordained for some reason she was yet to understand.
Thork still intended to marry Elise. Ruby accepted that fatalistically, even though they never spoke of it or their own future together. Thork probably expected that she would go with him to Jomsborg as his mistress—at least for a time. Ruby’s emotions were crystal-fragile at the moment, and she avoided a confrontation with Thork over the issue. In truth, she feared she might break into a million pieces if she pressed for a commitment and Thork told her that’s all she meant to him—a “bedmate.”
So they made love and pretended all was well, each avoiding discussion of the festering canker between them. One day at a time, that was all Ruby could handle right now. But she did pray a lot.
Finally the three ships crossed the English Channel for Normandy, while the other two went back north to Jorvik. No sooner had their ships dropped anchor in Normandy than a contingent of armed men lined the shore. Having recognized the ships’ colors, the Norman Vikings escorted them back to Hrolf’s keep. They treated Thork with distrust because he was, after all, son of Harald, high-king of Norway, a hated enemy of Hrolf.
Surrounded by guards with menacing weapons, they entered the great hall of Hrolf’s fortified palace in Rouen. A huge man, at least six-foot-five and built like a tree, stood to greet them. Ruby could see how he’d earned the nickname The Marcher. Truly, not many horses could hold a man his size.
“I bid you welcome to Normandy, Thork,” Hrolf said in a polite but cool voice. “Come forward and share some ale with me.” Meanwhile, his eyes pierced him with icy mistrust.
Hrolf drew them to a roaring fire, which offset the damp chill of the misty day. Several well-dressed men and women sat there, including one lady whom he introduced warmly with a pat on her arm as Poppa. Ruby wasn’t sure if she was his wife or mistress.
Thork shifted uneasily and came right to the point. “I come from King Sigtrygg and then go from here to Hedeby, then to Jomsborg where I resume my Jomsviking duties.”
Hrolf’s intelligent eyes examined Thork keenly. “What does that wily old bear want from me now?”
Thork cast an inscrutable gaze at Ruby, seeming to weigh his thoughts carefully before he drew her forward with a hand at her elbow. “He sent me here with this woman—Ruby Jordan. She claims to be a kin of yours.”
“Mine? How could that be?” Hrolf demanded with consternation, glancing apologetically to Poppa. “Some get on a village maid? What claim you, girl?”
All eyes turned on Ruby, and there was a collective gasp as the group then turned to look at a middle-aged woman seated at the edge of the seated circle. Ruby looked exactly like the woman must have at a younger age. Ruby soon learned that Eddha was Hrolf’s oldest sister. Thork and Selik stared disbelievingly at Ruby, realizing she must have spoken the truth all along. Relief softened Thork’s tense features as the implications of the resemblance became clear.
“Now you won’t have to chop off my head,” Ruby whispered morbidly and jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow while Hrolf and his family agitatedly discussed the situation among themselves.
“Nay, but I may smack your rump,” Thork responded with dry humor. “What else do you hide from me?”
Ruby was about to remind him that she’d been telling him the truth all along when Hrolf called Ruby closer and asked her to sit in the chair next to him, which he freed by shooing a young hesir away. Thork and Selik dropped into heavy armchairs brought forth by scurrying servants and sipped at the cups of wine placed in their hands.
“Now tell me true. Who are you?” Hrolf demanded.
Ruby looked at Thork, wondering if she dared tell the real story. He rolled his eyes up to the heavens, which was no help at all. She decided to give it a try. “I come from the future, the year 1994,” she began slowly, and immediately saw the entire group stare at her in stunned disbelief, wondering if this was a trick or she was crazy.
Hrolf glanced angrily at Thork, who shrugged in mock despair, laughing. “You can see why Sigtrygg sent her here. He was convinced she spied for Ivar and wanted to behead her—”
“That whoreson would execute someone who claims to be my kin?” Hrolf interrupted with narrowed eyes.
“Nay. ’Tis, why he sent me here, to make sure of the blood tie. He did not want to offend you.”
“And if I deny her?” Hrolf drew his lips in thoughtfully, calculating Sigtrygg’s
game.
Thork clenched his jaw, and his lips straightened in a rigid line. He took a long time before he answered, a betraying nerve twitching near his stern lips. “He ordered me to behead her.”
Hrolf looked back and forth between the two of them, then burst into laughter so loud the rafters seemed to shake.
“By the blood of Odin, that rascally king of yours does enjoy putting you in the tight spot, Thork, does he not?”
Thork didn’t answer, clearly unamused by Hrolf’s poking fun at him.
Hrolf turned back to Ruby, demanding with a smirk that bespoke his disbelief of her time-travel, “Tell me more of yourself.”
Ruby stiffened her back at his mocking tone, but inhaled deeply to control her temper. “Well, I did a family tree years ago, tracing the history of my father’s side of the family back more than a thousand years. I was able to do that easily because there were a number of famous people along the way, like James, Duke of Ormond.” Ruby hesitated, sensing the twitters of laughter among the whispering people. Oh, heck! she thought. She may as well lay it all on the line. “I figure you are my grandfather about fifty times removed.”
Hrolf stared at her blankly, and total silence blanketed the hall, except for the crackling of the fire.
“I don’t remember all of it,” Ruby went on doggedly, “but I do know that your great-great-great-grandson will be William the Conqueror.”
“William the what?”
“William the Conqueror, one of the greatest military leaders of all time. The Norman conqueror who becomes the king of all England.”
Fascinated, ignoring the snorts of disbelief around him, Hrolf asked excitedly, “You say one of my descendants will vanquish all England and become its king?”
Ruby nodded, and a pleased smile split Hrolf’s craggy face.
“Also, although you are not called a duke now, the history books will refer to you as the first Duke of Normandy.”
“Do you give similar compliments to Sigtrygg, hoping to get on his good side?” Hrolf scoffed suspiciously, probably thinking she made up these false prophecies to bolster his ego.
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