Ruby swiped at her eyes and glanced at Gyda who’d been chattering away while Ruby’s mind wandered. A guard, Ulf, followed close behind as they walked toward the Norse castle.
” ‘Tis a puzzle to me yet why Sigtrygg’s latest mistress, Byrnhil, would summon us. And midday, at that! ‘Tis the busiest time of the day. Leastways ’tis for honest folk.”
“I don’t know any more than you do. Believe me, I would as soon stay far away from your king and his volatile moods. I’m afraid he may behead me yet.”
When they got to the palace, the empty great hall echoed with silence. A servant escorted them to an upper chamber where a dozen well-dressed women of Sigtrygg’s court eagerly awaited their arrival.
After the preliminary greetings, Byrnhil, a big-boned, Amazon-like woman, whose size probably suited Sigtrygg well, got directly to the point.
“I sat in the hall the first night you arrived and saw those scanty underthings you wear. Could you show them to us again, here in private?”
Ruby and Gyda exchanged looks of surprise.
“Why?” Ruby asked.
“I like nice things,” the obviously vain mistress said, pointing around the room where luxurious garments lay haphazardly across chairs and chests. Fine tapestries adorned the stone walls and a Persian carpet hid a portion of the rush-covered floor. “Also, I saw the look in some of our men’s eyes when you disrobed. Mayhap such garb would suit me, as well.”
“I guess it would be all right,” Ruby said hesitantly. “I own a business that makes fine lingerie, you know.”
Byrnhil and her ladies clapped their hands in delight.
“Wonderful,” Brynhil declared. “You can make some for me. We will raid Sigtrygg’s treasure room for fabrics.”
When Ruby modeled her black silk and lace panties and bra for the ladies, they oohed and aahed, touching the fine lace, asking what other fabrics could be used and whether different styles would suit.
“Why are your legs so prickly?” one lady asked with distaste.
“I haven’t shaved in two weeks.” Ruby grimaced.
“You shave your legs? Why? What is your meaning?”
“In my country, most women shave their legs up to the top of their thighs. Some even shave a bikini line,” Ruby explained, demonstrating with a slash of her hands.
“Oh!” several of them gasped. “Does it not hurt?”
“Not at all—when you use soap lather and a sharp blade. And the legs feel as smooth as silk.”
The skeptical women questioned the wisdom of such a habit, especially when Ruby told them it had to be repeated every other day.
The treasure room overflowed with bolts of fabrics, laces, braiding and threads from all over the world, in every color imaginable. She’d known the Vikings’ reputation as traders but never had she imagined such fine taste.
Realizing that paper was at a premium, Ruby pulled aside a bolt of stiff white fabric to use for patterns. She restrained the women from being too greedy and selected only a half-dozen silk fabrics—black, bright red, green, white and two shades of blue—along with matching trims. She had an especially hard time convincing Byrnhil that wool would not be a good choice for underwear, even for winter.
“I can only work on one set today,” Ruby asserted. “Perhaps if the others watch carefully, they’ll be able to make their own patterns.”
Without hesitation or modesty, Byrnhil stripped to the buff and stepped forward to the middle of the room. The woman’s magnificent body rivaled the finest female athletes Ruby had ever seen, and she told her so. “What do you do for exercise? Do you ever jog?” Ruby had to explain jogging then and was pleased at Byrnhil’s unfeigned interest.
“In Dublin, I practiced for battle with my brothers. Twice have I gone a-Viking with them.” She beamed proudly. ” ‘Tis harder here. Sigtrygg forbids my joining his men on the practice field. Afeard he is that I will best his men with the short sword, I wager.”
She added slyly, “Little does he know I take my servant Hedin to the outskirts of the city where I make him train with me.” Then she advised Ruby, “A woman must protect her own interests.”