“Nay, Sigtrygg. Think on it. ‘Twould be folly to toss this offer in the midden without further thought,” Thork cautioned. “Much there is to be gained in this marriage for you.”
Sigtrygg appeared ready to argue but then demanded of Thork, “Explain yourself. What profit be there for me in the bedding of an English whelp?”
“Even as the Saxons grasp our hands in treaty, they plot our downfall,” Thork lashed out. “Alfred agreed to the Danelaw some fifty years ago, but, at the same time, he launched a plan to fortify towns so that no part of Wessex would be more than twenty miles from a military center.”
“We know all that.” Sigtrygg disregarded Thork’s information with a wave of his hand.
“Know you that Alfred’s son, King Edward, and now his son Athelstan continue that fortification plan? Know you that more than thirty walled military burhs dot the Wessex countryside and more are planned?” Thork’s angry voice echoed loudly across the silent hall. He boldly looked Sigtrygg in his one good eye and informed him bravely, “I mislike being the butt of any man’s joke, least of all the bloody Saxons. A favorite saying amongst them these days is, ‘Edward broke the back of the Norsemen. Athelstan will cut off their balls.’ ”
At those words, Thork looked directly at Ruby’s shirt logo and frowned, as if wondering for the first time if the Saxons, not Ivar, had sent her. Pensively, he studied her.
“Thor’s lips! You go too far!” Sigtrygg bellowed, standing to his full height like an outraged grizzly. Spittle flecked his thick, reddish beard.
“Nay, ’tis not far enough.” Thork stood, facing off his outraged leader. ” ‘Tis time someone bespoke the truth about the weakness of your position and—”
Sigtrygg let out a bull-like yell that echoed through the hall, and his face turned purple with rage. To Thork’s credit, he didn’t cower.
“Dare you call me weak? You upstart get of a jackal! Be you Jomsviking or the son of King Harald matters naught to me. ‘Tis tempted I am to cut out your wayward tongue.”
Ruby couldn’t believe her eyes and ears. King Sigtrygg with his volatile moods was clearly a dangerous man, but suddenly the king started to laugh loudly and clapped Thork so hard on the shoulder he almost fell forward.
“My friend, you do well to warn me. ‘Tis certain you think only of my best interests and those of Jorvik. Come. Tell me more.”
It happened so fast Ruby blinked disbelievingly. How could Sigtrygg’s temper swing so rapidly back and forth? God help the man who suffered his wrath before his mood switched back. Or woman? she thought, and cringed.
As Thork and the king discussed the pros and cons of the marriage agreement, Ruby noticed the servants pulling out heavy trestles and large boards to serve as table tops. The wide wooden benches lining the walls would be used now as dining seats and later as beds for the lower classes.
The servants, probably thralls, wore undyed wool garments poncho-style with leather thongs tied at the waist—the men’s and boys’ were knee-length, while the women’s and girls’ hung down to their ankles. These contrasted sharply with the fine fabrics of the high-born Viking nobles and noblewomen. Ruby, with her sewing background, recognized the richness of the bright-colored cloth and the excellent workmanship.
The Vikings were unusually tall, even the women, and surprisingly clean, with sparkling white teeth and well-cared-for hair. Some of the males even sported intricately braided beards, an incongruous, almost feminine vanity at odds with the huge muscles knotting their arms and legs. A few of the women looked as if they could wield battle-axes themselves.
An endless stream of servants placed platter after platter of enticing food on the tables as the men and women seated themselves alternately in some type of predetermined order. The servers put enormous salt cellars midway down each of the long tables; from this came the expression of being seated “below the salt,” Ruby presumed. The better the dress, the closer to the dais, Ruby observed. Olaf, apparently a favorite in this court, sat at the first table near the platform, and, to Ruby’s chagrin, told her to stand behind him. When would she get to sit and eat?