“That many, huh?”
“How could you ask such a thing?” she whispered, profoundly embarrassed that someone might have overheard.
“What? You are the one who bragged—”
“I never bragged. I merely told Byrnhil—”
Ruby never got a chance to finish as the king and all his party on the dais stood, announcing he was about to receive the gifts and messages from all the royal emissaries present, after which the entertainment would begin.
As an indication of the new king’s standing, several royal princes sent fine gifts, hoping for one of Athelstan’s sisters in marriage. His cousin Adelolf, Count of Boulogne, who represented the Capetian ruler Hugh, a Frankish duke, sought his sister Eadhild. Henry the Fowler, Saxon king of the Germans, wanted Athelstan’s sister Edith for his son Otto. Conrad the Peaceable, King of Burgundy, would take any sister he could get. Athelstan’s sister Eadgifu had already married Charles the Simple, the Frankish king, six years before.
Among the priceless gifts they brought were the Holy Lance of Charlemagne, allegedly the one used by the Roman centurion to pierce the side of Christ. Also, the sword of Constantine the Great with a nail from the True Cross in its hilt, and a crown of thorns set in crystal, not to mention precious gems the size of hen’s eggs, magnificent horses, and rare perfumes.
“It seems Sigtrygg should be honored by Athelstan’s proposal to marry his sister if such distinguished men clamor for his family ties,” Ruby whispered to Thork.
” ‘Tis nothing of honor to it. The king will do what is to his best advantage, like any other.”
It was Thork’s turn to go forward on behalf of King Sigtrygg.
“Thork! Back so soon!” the king exclaimed and embraced him like an old friend. “Do you check on your brother Haakon? I thought you were not fond of court life.”
“I come on behalf of King Sigtrygg of Northumbria who pays homage to you as ruler of the English. Also, I bring you his formal acceptance of the betrothal contract for your sister.” He placed in the king’s hand a magnificent Viking sword with a twisted metal blade and a solid gold hilt embedded with rubies.
There were disgruntled rumblings behind them from some of the nobles about Athelstan’s giving his sister to what they considered a heathen barbarian while they waited in line like lowly beggars. Athelstan stopped them with a cold look.
“When will he wed my sister?”
“Would the thirtieth of January suit?”
“It would. Will you come to my solar tomorrow afternoon to discuss further details?” When Thork nodded, the king asked who accompanied him, and Thork introduced Ruby and Selik.
“Ah, the godly handsome Norseman who breaks the hearts of sweet maids from here to the Holy Land and beyond!”
Selik tilted his head in arrogant acknowledgment of his dubious reputation and bowed to the king.
Then the king turned to Ruby.
“Surely not the woman who claims to come from the future?” he asked Thork, who nodded, then frowned, probably wondering what spy network reported to the Saxons so well on events in Jorvik.
“Wonderful!” He clapped his hands together and demanded, “Bring her with you on the morrow. I want to hear all her stories. I understand I could learn much from her.”
They were about to be dismissed in favor of the long line of people waiting to be presented to the king when Athelstan asked, “Where do you stay?”
Thork shrugged uncertainly. “We just arrived this morn. With all the crowds here in Kingston, we will no doubt go back to my men who camp in tents near my ships.”
“Nay, you will not.” The king directed a servant to find a room for Thork and “his woman.”
His woman! Where did he get that idea? Ruby wondered as her face flushed hotly.
“And one for Selik, as well. ‘Tis certain he will find his own woman afore the night is over.”
Thork smiled so smugly as they walked away from the dais that Ruby had to elbow him in the ribs.
“A private room at last,” Thork whispered, putting his arm around her shoulders intimately, uncaring of the people’s stares. “Your time of sweet reckoning has come, dearling.”