“Forsooth! What glory could there ever be in a woman acting the man, of carrying that burdensome job all the time? What woman could live with herself if she makes her man feels less than a man?”
What woman, indeed!
“She may as well cut off his male parts, like that song you sing about the man wounded in the Asian War.” Gyda pondered a moment and then turned abruptly to Ruby, her forehead creased in concentration. “Is that why your husband left you? Did you make him feel less the man?”
Ruby closed her eyes wearily. When she opened them, she looked at Gyda bleakly. “I think so. Honest to God, without thinking, that’s just what I did.”
With a heavy heart, Ruby entered the front door of Olaf’s home. She stopped suddenly. Thork sat at the table with his two sons playing the Viking board game Hnefatafl, similar to checkers. They laughed and joked and acted like any normal father and sons.
What was going on here?
* * *
When Thork looked up and saw Ruby standing in the doorway, his heart skipped a beat. For the love of Freya! After dozens of battles, endless women, so many he had lost count years ago, his stupid damn heart jumped at the sight of a lackwitted, skinny woman with boy-hair and the attitude of a shrew.
It was that kiss! Thork couldn’t forget the delicious, bone-melting, soul-shattering kiss. Nor his anger over Ruby’s refusal to follow through on the promise inherent in such a kiss. But he blamed himself, as well. He never should have allowed the kiss to happen. He had been lax. Just like today. He should not be here. Thork could not let anyone know that Eirik and Tykir were his sons. It was too dangerous. It would be so easy for his enemies to use the information against him.
Thork stood and signaled silently to the boys. They understood that he could not stay when a stranger was about. At least, he thought they understood. Sometimes when he caught a hurt look in their eyes, he wondered if he should not follow his only other alternative—to take his sons on a ship and disappear to some faraway country, mayhap even that Godforsaken Iceland where so many Vikings fled of late.
* * *
“Don’t you even think it!” Ruby told Thork as she stomped up to him, placed a palm on his chest and pushed him back down into the chair. “You’re not leaving here until we’ve had a chance to talk.”
“Do you give me orders, wench?” A smile twitched the corners of Thork’s lips, despite his apparent disbelief over her nerve in pushing him around.
“You bet I do! I’m so mad I could spit nickels.”
“Nickels?”
“It’s not important. Suffice it to say, I’ve had enough of your avoiding me.”
Eirik and Tykir giggled at the sight of their fierce father being bullied by a woman.
“Do you seek my company, sweetling? Wouldst you try my charms, after all? I had not thought my wordfame had spread so far.”
“Wordfame? Charms?” When understanding dawned, Ruby spurted out, “Why, you insufferable slime-sucking frog!”
“Frog?” Thork croaked out on a choked laugh.
“Yes, frog! Leave it to me to land in the dream of a lifetime where I get the frog instead of the prince.”
Thork grinned insufferably, probably not even understanding what she meant.
Ruby clenched her fists tightly to get her emotions under control. Then she turned back to him, calmly. “I want to talk to you about our sons.”
They both glanced immediately to Eirik and Tykir who stared at them, wide-eyed and wide-eared.
“Leave,” Thork ordered his sons. “We will talk afore I depart.”
“Will you stay for dinner, Father, now that Ruby knows?” Tykir pleaded.
Thork scrutinized Ruby speculatively.
She understood little—only that she wasn’t supposed to be aware that a relationship existed between the father and sons. Why?
“Mayhap.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Stay. I’m not going to spoil your little charade.”
When the boys left, Thork motioned Ruby toward Gyda’s private solar. Everyone else had conveniently disappeared.
“Afore you think of chastising me again,” Thork warned, “not that you have any right to do so, let me assure you this is not a charade. ‘Tis important no one knows I cherish my sons.”