Tell me about it!
“Mayhap I will join you in this jogging one day.”
“Not if Olaf has anything to say about it! He’s forbidden my jogging.”
Ruby wasn’t about to risk more punishment, even to satisfy the whim of Sigtrygg’s mistress. She told Byrnhil about the jogging episode.
“Many times have I been locked in my chamber,” Byrnhil boasted. “Sigtrygg even takes a hand to me occasionally. ‘Tis naught, imprisonment or a beating, unless a bone be broken or the face marred. That I will never abide.”
Ruby used ribbons to take the place of hooks and eyes on the bra and of elastic at the gathered waistband and legs of the panties. After three hours of measuring, cutting and sewing, Byrnhil stood resplendent in flame-red bikini pants trimmed with black lace. The bra, also of red silk, teased the eye with peek-a-boo black lace in strategic places.
Byrnhil pirouetted in front of a large sheet of framed polished metal, proclaiming Ruby’s creation a huge success. “You will make me a dozen more of these garments tomorrow,” Byrnhil directed two seamstresses at the edge of the room.
Byrnhil walked over to a lacquered Oriental chest in the comer and dug deep, tossing aside one object after another before she found what she wanted. Returning to Ruby, she handed her an emerald the size of an almond, hanging from a fine gold chain. “With my thanks.”
“Oh, my goodness! I couldn’t accept this. It… it was my pleasure to make the lingerie for you.” But Gyda nodded her approval, and Ruby accepted the priceless gem. On the way home, Gyda and Ruby giggled like young girls over their strange afternoon.
“I must thank you for this, Ruby—never have I been invited to the palace by any of the royal misses or mistresses.”
“It seems a dubious honor to me.”
Gyda smiled, their earlier difficulties forgotten for the moment. Then she sheepishly asked, “Do you think you could show me how to make such garments for myself?”
Ruby broke into a fit of laughter, and Gyda reddened.
” ‘Twould be foolish I would look in such garb, is that not so?” Gyda peeked up at her shyly.
“Of course not, Gyda. I know just the design that would be perfect for you. I laughed because of my ludicrous situation. Here I am in a strange country, worried about keeping my head on my shoulders, and still I’m drumming up business for myself. My husband Jack would say my priorities are out of kilter, as usual.”
” ‘Tis hard for you, is it not,” Gyda asked kindly, “being away from your family? I know you have your own business and could probably start another one here with no trouble, but family—well, that is everything, is it not?”
Ruby thought about Gyda’s words, then offered hesitatingly, “In my country, women are liberated. They believe that no woman should be defined by a man—or by the children she bears. She should have her own identity.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Women used to feel that their goal in life was to get married and have children. Now they’re free from that bondage. Many women choose not to have a man in their lives, and some married couples choose not to have children—ever.”
“Well, ne’er have I heard such ridiculous nonsense in all my life! Of course, each woman has her own identity. When Olaf goes a-Viking or trading with Thork, I handle all his business affairs. I can supervise the unloading of a ship, keep accurate accounts, run the farm and home, but when my husband returns, I gladly defer to him the role of head of our household.”
“Haven’t you ever resented giving up that authority?”
“Nay. A man needs to feel he is taking care of his wife and children. If a woman wants to pursue some talent or even own a business, that would be acceptable, as long as it did naught to interfere in his role as provider and head of the family unit. Surely it is so in every country. I cannot imagine otherwise.”
Ruby thought about her words before admitting, “We’ve made tremendous gains for women’s rights in my country, but perhaps we’ve made some mistakes in our haste.”