Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01] (16 page)

The girls awakened her with their chattering early the next morning. Olaf had already warned her not to leave the manor without permission. She presumed jogging would be out of the question—for at least the time being.

After refreshing themselves with soap and water, they visited the garderobe at the back of the manor, then went down to the great hall, where only servants moved about, and helped themselves to bannock and cold meats.

Dar’s enormous great hall combined elements of both Norse and Saxon decorations. Fierce-looking battle helmets, shields and swords covered one whole wall, reminding visitors that Vikings welcomed guests but would brook no insult to their homes or families. On the other long wall, tapestries depicting the Norse gods Thor
and Odin contrasted sharply with one of the Christian St. George slaying a dragon.

At one end of the hall, a massive stone fireplace in the Saxon manner dominated the entire wall, sharply different from the usual Viking household with its large open hearth in the center of the room. Many armchairs, now empty, were situated in clusters near it, for heat and conversation. Cooking was done in the separate kitchen she’d seen when they’d arrived yesterday.

The girls went off to find their mother, and Ruby was about to explore the manor when she stopped in surprise. “Rhoda! I didn’t know you were here! This is wonderful!” Ruby exclaimed.

The stunned Rhoda-person looked behind her to see whom Ruby addressed, then stepped backward in fright as she realized it was the strange woman from the docks talking to her. “My name…my name be Ella,” she sputtered out. “Why do you address me by that other name?”

Ruby hugged the shocked thrall, who backed farther away, and said, “You look like my cleaning lady Rhoda. I’m sorry if I’ve frightened you. It’s just so good to see someone from home…well, someone I thought was from my home.”

“Cleaning lady?” Ella whimpered weakly.

“The woman who cleaned my house two days a week.”

“’Twould seem a poor household, indeed, what only has one thrall to keep it clean,” Ella muttered. “Do you not have a cook and stableboy, as well, and bonders to till yer fields?”

Ruby smiled.

“No, I mostly do my own cooking, and we have no horses that would require a stableboy.”

Ella eyed her dubiously, obviously thinking her not the high-born lady she’d been led to believe from Ruby’s claims of ties to the Duke of Normandy.

Ruby saw Aud, with a huge ring of keys hanging from
a circular brooch at her shoulder, enter a door which led to what seemed to be a weaving room. She gave Ella another quick hug and told her, “We’ll talk later.”

She followed Aud into the room where an eight-foot-high loom with soapstone weights took up most of one wall. Huge baskets held shorn wool, and spinning wheels stood ready with their spindles for making the celebrated Yorkshire yarn.

“Good morn,” Aud greeted her. “Have you broken fast?”

“Yes, and was about to explore your home a little if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Chores I have pressing me now, or I would accompany you, but mayhap if you would seek out Linette she would give you the tour. Her chamber is the last on the right, at the end of the main hall on the second floor.”

“Perhaps I will.”
Not bloody likely!
“Where is everyone?”

“The women are still abed. The men have been up since dawn, out with the two prisoners, I warrant.”

Ruby departed, going upstairs first to get a shoulder mantle for her dress. The crisp morning air chilled her, as much as Aud’s reference to the prisoners and Ruby’s too-vivid image of their probable fate.

After emerging from her room, Ruby’s curiosity drew her to the end of the hall where Linette’s door stood slightly ajar. She would just peek in a little, Ruby told herself, but when she saw it was empty, she stepped boldly inside. Apparently the manor was not so crowed that the fair Linette could not have a chamber to herself, one four times as big as the cubicle she and the three girls shared.

And opulent! A soft Oriental carpet covered the cold rushes, and lightly colored embroidered tapestries brightened the stark walls. A canopied bed held center stage on a short raised platform, with rich handwoven hangings
ready to enclose her when she slept. Beautiful dresses, mantles and hose lay about in disarray.

Ruby decided she’d better make a quick exit before she was caught snooping. But then she chanced to look out the small, glassless window that overlooked the courtyard.

Her mouth opened to scream, but no sound emerged.

Ruby saw the two prisoners lying in the courtyard near the gatehouse, blood pouring in streams from the gaping sword wounds in their backs.

Slapping a palm in horror over her mouth to stifle her screams, she noticed Thork and Olaf standing dispassionately with short swords in their hands, while one of the prisoners was still screaming out his death throes.

Ruby couldn’t bear to watch this cruelty and fled blindly from the room. Heading toward her sleeping chamber, Ruby staggered, losing her way in the misty shroud of her tears.

Thork had killed a man with his own hands! His sword dripped another human being’s blood—not in the heat of self-defense, but cold, emotionless rage.

She didn’t know this man! How could she have thought she did?

Ruby pushed open the next door, thinking it was hers, and immediately saw her mistake. A naked Linette lay sleeping in the middle of a massive bed. The room was as large as Linette’s but starkly masculine with heavy carved bedstead, chests and chairs before a cold fireplace.

The hairs on the back of Ruby’s neck prickled, and, like falling dominoes, the ominous sensation flickered down her spine to her toes, up to the top of her head and out to her fingertips. Ruby’s eyes flew desperately around the room, and her heart lurched in recognition of the dark tunic and mantle Thork had worn the day before.

It was Thork’s sleeping chamber. And Linette had slept here with him last night.

Ruby felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach.
She shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow in her subconscious she must have hoped that Thork had put on the spectacle with Linette yesterday for her benefit. What a fool she was! Ruby sobbed miserably and turned to flee.

“Who goes there? What do you in Thork’s bedchamber?” Linette screeched as she sat up groggily, pulling a sheet over her naked breasts. “Are you the bothersome thrall Thork brought from Jorvik? Do you spy here, too?” Her sultry eyes narrowed viciously. “Or mayhap you sneak into Thork’s private chamber to poison his wine.”

This was all too much for Ruby.

“Why, you ignorant bimbo…,” Ruby started to berate Linette, then waved her hands in disgust. What was the use! She swiveled and ran from the shrieking Linette.

“Come back here, you ugly wench, or I will have you beaten,” Linette threatened to Ruby’s retreating back. “Disobey me, will you? Just wait, thrall, you will learn to heed your betters.”

Ruby didn’t care what they did to her. Her eyes had been opened that morning, and she didn’t think she could be hurt any more than she already was.

In her chamber, Ruby’s body shook with wild weeping. She wept for the brutality she’d witnessed in the bailey. She wept for Thork’s “adultery” with another woman. Then a long-delayed reaction to Jack’s desertion set in. The pain of her upcoming divorce racked her, as well as the loss of her old life and exile to this cruel, foreign land.

Ruby finally cried herself out and realized that her binge of self-pity had jump-started another reaction. She was angry. Who did these people think they were—Thork, or Jack, or Linette, or the whole bunch of stupid Vikings—to trod over her roughshod?

I am Ruby Jordan. I am not going to sit down and die. I am a survivor. I will get through this nightmare
.

Ruby couldn’t believe her sojourn in this time warp
was a permanent one. All she had to do was stop making waves and wait out her time here, she reasoned. She had no one—absolutely no one—on whom she could depend. She knew that for certain now.

Kinship with the Duke of Normandy was her strongest protection. She must convince these people that he was, in fact, her “grandfather” so they wouldn’t dare harm her. It would be impossible, though, if she kept letting her emotions get in the way.

Face it, girl, you were starting to fall in love with the damn Viking
.

Ruby curled up in a ball on her little bed and slept away her weariness from the trip and the mental anguish she’d suffered that morning. She awakened several hours later, thankful that no one had disturbed her. They were probably too busy killing people, Ruby thought, her lips curling in disgust.

Pouring the entire pitcher of water into the bowl, Ruby gave herself an all-over wash with a square of linen and soft soap. Then she searched her new Viking wardrobe for something presentable to wear down to the great hall for dinner. She chose a cream-colored velvet tunic with dark green braiding to be worn over a jade, long-sleeved chemise. Gyda had been generous in allowing her to alter clothes that no longer suited Astrid. Over her neck, she slid the magnificent emerald Byrnhil had given her, then realized she had forgotten to return Thork’s dragon brooches. With absolutely no guilt, she pinned them on the shoulders of her garment, vowing to keep them until asked for their return. Maybe she would never give them back.

The three girls came in, talking excitedly until they saw Ruby, and then they turned strangely silent. Ruby helped them find more water and to dress, all the while puzzled by their aloof attitudes.

“What has happened? What have I done now?”

The girls looked at each other sheepishly but wouldn’t
answer. The only thing Ruby could think of was that Linette was causing trouble.

Well, so be it, Ruby thought. It was her against the Vikings, it seemed. All of them! Actually, it fit in with her new plan to form no attachments with these people.

They went down to the crowded hall together, then parted. Ruby went to the end of the table, well below the salt, hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible, while the girls joined their parents closer to the dais where Dar, Aud, Thork and Linette sat with several hesirs and their wives whom Ruby hadn’t met.

Ruby knew immediately that some new trouble had landed at her door. Everyone turned from her coldly.

Ruby ate in peace, ignored by the lowly hesir at her side. She hadn’t eaten since her meager breakfast and was famished. But a clock ticked in her head the whole time. She knew it was only a matter of time before she would be informed of her latest crime.

Ella, her Rhoda-like acquaintance, gave her the first clue, whispering in Ruby’s ear, “The prisoner confessed,” as she filled cups of ale along the table. Ruby looked up sharply, then realized that Ella didn’t want to be seen speaking to her. Ella fussed, stacking some empty wooden bowls in front of her, then murmured hastily, “They came from Ivar. Some traitor in our midst informed Ivar of the traveling route.” With those words, Ella left, carrying a load of empty trenchers to the kitchen.

Ruby glanced quickly to Thork, wounded once again, even though she’d vowed not to care about him or his people. How could he think she would hurt Dar? When Thork stared down at her in stony censure, Ruby’s heart dropped. He thought just that.

Thork had watched Ruby enter the great hall before the meal, shaken by the day’s information and renewed
in his determination to keep his distance from the mysterious wench.

All clues pointed to her as the informant, but he could not believe she would deliberately harm his father or the boys she likened to her own sons. Mayhap the plan had gone beyond her control. Mayhap Ivar’s men had been directed to kidnap Thork but had been unable to do so. Then they had chosen Dar instead, without Ruby knowing of the change of plans. But that would mean that Ruby plotted his own downfall. Thork’s spirits plummeted. Could Ruby care so little for him? Truly, he upbraided himself, why was he surprised by the ever-constant duplicity of women?

Dar and Olaf wanted her tortured for information, goaded on by Linette’s claim that Ruby had entered his chamber that morn, intent on murdering him. She told a convincing story.

Then Thork and Dar had gone up to Ruby’s chamber to confront her with their suspicions and found her rolling back and forth on the pallet in a troubled sleep. The words that had spewed from her mouth in sleep condemned her even more, “Dead! They killed those poor men! Oh, my God! The cruel barbarians! So much blood! So unnecessary! Forgive them, God. Please…please…make them stop!” In truth, the wench had condemned herself.

Thork and Dar had let her sleep, exiting the room silently to discuss this new information in private.

“I mislike this whole affair,” Dar had said. “All clues point to the wench, and yet I am not convinced.”

“Nor I.”

“It seems so reasonable, and yet I still doubt she is a spy.”

A part of Thork wanted to believe Ruby innocent. Had she flummoxed them all? His head pounded with all the conflicting information it had been fed that day.

During the evening meal, Thork’s eyes shifted to Ruby
often, taking in her fine attire, highlighted by his own jewelry. He smiled wryly. The bold wench waded neck-deep in the most serious danger, and she brazenly flaunted his borrowed ornaments, like a bloody queen. Sitting at the bottom of the table, she waxed more regal than the proudest royalty.

“Will you torture her?” Linette whined, hanging on his arm. “Will you, Thork? Will you?”

Thork shrugged her clinging hands off distastefully. He’d slept with Linette the night before and made good use of her body, but something rankled. Already he’d lost interest, as he did with all women. Her irritating mewling hastened the process.

“’Tis my decision to make, not yours,” Thork snapped. “Halt thy waspish tongue! No more do I wish to hear.” Linette turned peevishly to the hesir on her other side.

When the tables were dismantled and folded neatly away into their wall enclosures, Ruby stood alone, ignored by those around her who made rude remarks loud enough for all to overhear. Thork ground his teeth at his fellow Vikings’ ill treatment of Ruby. A part of him wanted to jump to her side so she would not be so defenseless. He restrained himself with a reminder of the maid’s hypocrisy.