Thork nodded in understanding.
“And your father?” Sigtrygg asked companionably. ” ‘Twas ever a man who knew the meaning of power-hungry, ’tis Harald Fairhair. No offense meant.”
“None taken. My father is as he ever was. Vikings flee Norway right and left to escape his leaden thumb. Many even settle in Iceland.”
“Do you still refuse to be jarl of one of his holdings?”
“Yea. I much prefer the rigors of Jomsvikings to the pincers of his heavy-handed rule. I give him credit, though. He has united all Norway, and ’twas no mean feat.”
Sigtrygg concurred. “I understand you just delivered your half-brother Haakon to Athelstan’s court for fostering.” He shook his head in wonder. “Your father breeds sons like a rabbit, even in his old age, and well he knows the rewards of developing good relations with the Saxons when ’tis to his benefit, even if it means using his youngest child.”
“To be sure. Didst thou know of the tribute he sent to Athelstan?”
“Nay.”
“My father sent a great warship with golden prow and purple sail, replete with row upon row of gilded shields.”
People around the king gasped, recognizing the vast wealth betokened by the grand tribute.
Then Sigtrygg spoke the words Ruby had been dreading. “The thralls out there—are they captives you mean to keep for yourself or will you sell them?”
Uh oh!
Thork looked at Ruby and the other slaves. The closed expression on his face told her nothing of his feelings.
“They will be sold… except one. Methinks you must talk with her. The slave may be a spy for Ivar.”
“What!” Sigtrygg roared and jumped from his seat. “You do not mean that snake Ivar sends a spy into Jorvik! Bring the man forward so I may torture his secrets from him.”
“Well, ’tis not exactly a man,” Thork admitted reluctantly, motioning Olaf to bring Ruby forward. “Actually, ’tis a woman.”
Sigtrygg glared stonily at Thork. “Do you try to make the fool of me?”
“Nay. You must see her to believe it,” Thork commented dryly.
Olaf led Ruby to the bottom of the steps where she waited until Thork and the king came down. The other Vikings in the hall moved closer, even those on the dais, all expecting to be entertained in some way. Then Olaf stepped away.
Ruby felt strangely unprotected without the giant by her side.
Sigtrygg gawked at her, astounded by her unusual appearance. ” ‘Tis a woman, you say?” he asked Thork skeptically.
“Yea.”
The king looked her up and down, walked around her, then stood in front of her. First, he touched her short hair, fingered the fabric of her T-shirt, then reached a big paw out and grasped her breast.
Ruby started to protest but saw Olaf signal her to be still. Actually, she was too scared to move.
Sigtrygg grinned lewdly. Up close, he was even more ugly than Ruby had thought. When he smiled, she saw that one front tooth was missing. Then Sigtrygg noticed the words on Ruby’s shirt and said them aloud: “Brass Balls.”
“Think you Ivar sends me this message? Tell me what you think it means,” Sigtrygg imperiously demanded of Thork, no longer amused by Ruby’s appearance.
Ruby pinched her arm, hoping one last time that she could end this nightmare and return to the present. Not so! All she got was a sore forearm and a dark look from Thork.
” ‘Tis unknown how she got here,” Thork said slowly, weighing each word carefully. “Mayhap on my ship. ‘Tis hard to believe, but not impossible, I wager, that Ivar would send a woman to spy.”
Sigtrygg started to vent his outrage at Thork’s words, but Thork held up his hand and went on, “And the message, well, methinks it implies that the men of Ivar’s land have superior male parts made of metal. You know Ivar resents your wordfame and ever looks for ways to goad you into battle. What else could it mean?”
Ruby snorted and spoke for the first time, addressing Thork. “Don’t be ridiculous. It was your son who bought this stupid T-shirt in Ocean City.”
Both men pivoted to look at Ruby incredulously.