Olaf shook his head at her strange words. “Ever do you persist with these far-fetched stories. Did Sigtrygg not warn you about it?”
“Yes, but I didn’t think you would mind.”
“That I do and especially with my children.”
Olaf stood to return to the house when Ruby’s attention was caught by Thork, who approached from downriver, accompanied by two small boys with fishing lines over their shoulders.
When the boys, about eight and ten years old, saw Olaf, they dashed forward, calling out his name. As the dark-haired boys got closer, Ruby’s heart started beating wildly. It couldn’t be possible! Oh, my God! They looked just like her sons did at that age.
Ruby jumped from the bench and ran toward them. “Eddie! David! How did you get here? I’m so happy to see you!”
Before they could react, she hugged each of them, causing their fishing catches to drop to the ground. She felt them pull away from her embrace and saw their eyes roll pleadingly toward Olaf and Thork for assistance.
She turned in bewilderment to Thork, while Olaf told the boys to come to the house with him and wash up before dinner. Both boys looked back over their shoulders at her as they walked up the hill, the older one with some hostility at her familiar embrace, the younger one with a curious longing.
“Woman, you must stop this nonsense,” Thork exploded as soon as the boys were out of sight. “You walk a fine line now between life and death. Risk alienating any more people and someone will give you a push, I wager.”
“But, Thork, they’re my sons… our sons,” Ruby protested hoarsely, swiping at her eyes.
“Nay, no sons are they to you. They are orphans who live here with Olaf’s family. Stop these tales at once or I will be the one to slit your lying tongue,” Thork stated furiously.
Ruby glared at him defiantly. “Threaten me all you want, but I know my own sons when I see them.”
His eyes burned her with their blue fire. “Wench, you have not seen enough winters to bear a ten-year-old child. And I will not have you alarming the boys or Olaf’s family with such foolishness.”
“Thork, I’m thirty-eight years old in my other life. I tried to explain before that—”
“I swear, on Odin’s head, if you continue, I will lop your head off myself.”
“There’s no way in the world you can convince me that those boys aren’t your sons.”
“Argh!” Thork put both hands to his head and pulled his hair in frustration. Then he grabbed her by the shoulder. “Listen to me and listen well, wench. You are not to repeat those words to anyone. If you value the lives of those boys, you will accept that they are mere orphans and naught else.”
Puzzled, Ruby stared at him for a moment. Then she asserted vehemently, “I don’t understand, but I give my word not to betray their paternity.”
He considered her pledge, then nodded. They continued walking toward the house. When they were almost there, Ruby couldn’t stop herself from asking, “You claim to be unmarried. Who’s the mother of the boys?”
Thork shook his head with disgust at her persistence, but, surprisingly, he answered her. “Thea, a Saxon thrall, was Eirik’s mother. She died in the birthing. Asbol, a Viking princess, abandoned Tykir when he was two months old. Mayhap she still lives. I know not.” He shrugged disinterestedly. “She sought a nobler marriage than I could offer, not that I had been willing.”
“Why don’t the boys live with you?”
Thork stopped abruptly, with his hand on the leather door strap, and stabbed her with ice-cold eyes. “Because I do not want them.”
Ruby held a hand to her mouth in horror and wanted to ask more, but Thork spit out coldly, “Tell Olaf I am in the barn saddling our horses. I will wait for him out front.” Then he shoved her through the door roughly.
Thork had two illegitimate sons! And he didn’t want them! What kind of man was he? Jack loved his sons to distraction. This proved to Ruby, as nothing had before, that Jack and Thork must be two different people.