Thork’s eyes twinkled with reluctant amusement at his grandfather’s vulgar words, probably because he knew how much they irritated Ruby.
“Have you no tongue in your head, thrall?” the wretched old man continued. ” ‘Tis certain I was told you do nothing but spout words the day long.” He chortled heartily at his own words. Thork’s tight expression relaxed into a faint smile at Ruby’s expense.
Ruby bristled with indignation over Dar’s words. She’d had it up to here with rude, crude, arrogant Vikings. Holding her arms stiffly at her sides, afraid she might slap the old fart, Ruby confronted Dar with barely suppressed fury. “The day I choose to lash you with my tongue, old man, you will know it. But even I, thrall that I am, know how to show some manners. Mayhap,” she said, emphasizing the archaic word, “I could teach you some proper etiquette—if you are not too ignorant to learn.”
Thork rolled his eyes, biting his bottom lip to stifle an outright laugh. Gyda made the sign of the cross. Olaf glared at her in outrage. But Dar smiled from ear to ear and put his hands on both her shoulders, squeezing hard. “Well met, wench, you will suit. Yea, methinks you will suit very well.” Then he turned to Thork, who eyed him suspiciously, and snapped, “Do we dawdle here all day, boy? I thought you were summoned to Sigtrygg’s castle.”
Thork grumbled something incoherent about old men and sucking eggs. Dar ignored him pointedly and, before leaving, commanded Ruby, “Have some of those garments ready for my departure tomorrow. My wife, Aud, is about the same size as Gyda, do you not think so, Thork?”
“You cannot be serious!” Thork exclaimed, slamming his goblet on the table.
“That I am!” A flash of humor softened his wrinkled face.
“My grandmother would never wear such… things,” Thork sputtered, turning indignant eyes on Ruby, as if this were all her idea.
“Do not wager on it,” Dar countered with a wry, knowing grin. Thork’s face reddened with embarrassment.
Before they were out the door, Thork warned Ruby in a loud stage whisper, “You and I have much to discuss. I mislike my life being dictated by a wench. Be here when I return.”
“I’ll think about it,” Ruby asserted foolishly. As if she had anyplace else to go!
Gyda worked quietly, ominously, as they continued with their tasks. When Astrid asked Ruby if she wanted to go to market, Gyda advised her to stay at home that day, in case the men should return soon. Ruby was tidying her sleeping chamber when she heard the door slam below and angry voices arguing back and forth, including Gyda’s.
“Nay! I will not do it. She is not my responsibility. Sigtrygg has no right to interfere with my Jomsviking commitments.” Thork swore loudly and eloquently. Then Ruby heard Olaf chastise him for using coarse language in Gyda’s presence, to which Thork apologized curtly and added, “Can you imagine what she would do to the men on my ship if I took her aboard? She would probably have them putting laces on the sails or designing see-through codpieces for themselves.”
Laughter filtered up to Ruby at his last words. Then Gyda, the wonderful woman, defended Ruby. “Ruby only tried to help, Thork. She meant no harm.”
“May all the gods spare us from her help in the future!” Thork snorted with disgust.
“There is another solution,” Dar offered in a cunning voice.
“What might that be?” Thork asked dubiously.
“We could bring her back to Ravenshire till the Althing meets. After all, ’tis only three sennights from now. What more harm could the wench do?”
“What harm, indeed!” Thork scoffed, but he sounded more amenable to her being in Dar’s home than on his ship. “Bring the wench down, Gyda, but warn her to keep her bloody mouth shut or, I swear, I will strip the flesh from her back this time, as Sigtrygg has suggested I do.”
When Ruby came downstairs, trying to appear as meek and innocent as possible, the men sat at the table watching her somberly, like three blasted judges. Tempted to turn and run back upstairs, Ruby chose, instead, to move forward stoically.