When their baskets were full, Tykir and Tyra waded merrily near the edge of the pond. Later, Ruby told the children to go play near Vigi at the edge of the clearing so she could bathe in private. Before they left, she asked Vigi if she could borrow the eating knife he always carried at his waist.
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“Oh, really! It’s not as if I could disarm you. You still have your sword. I just want to shave my legs, for heaven’s sake! I’m beginning to feel like a porcupine.”
Vigi’s eyes widened in surprise. Ruby knew he already considered her half-crazy. He handed the knife to her, though, admonishing her to give it right back. He probably already rehearsed in his mind the fun he’d have back at the keep telling of this weird stranger’s latest antics.
Tykir and Tyra thought it a great joke that Ruby had whiskers on her legs just like their fathers had on their faces. They asked her to lift her pant leg so they could touch them.
” ‘Tis like the bristles on a hog’s skin afore the butchering,” Tykir declared in amazement. Tyra fell over in exaggerated glee at his words.
When she finished bathing and shaving her legs with soap lather and Vigi’s razor-sharp knife, nicking herself only a few times, the children asked to touch her legs again. Their mouths formed little “o’s” of surprise at the smoothness.
After she’d helped Aud and Gyda prepare the blueberry pastries, Ruby went to her room where Ella was laying out a lovely dress.
” ‘Tis a gift from the master and mistress for yer storytelling yestereve,” Ella explained.
Heavy gold braiding edged the hem, wrists and neckline of the simple burgundy silk dress, whose soft fabric molded her breasts and outlined her narrow waist, held in tightly by a gold braided belt. When she walked, the dress followed the lines of her narrow hips and long legs. Other than her lingerie, Ruby wore only a thin chemise, loving the feel of the sensuous cloth against her skin.
But Ruby went unnoticed, or so she thought, in the noise and bustle of the banquet room. Still exiled to the end of the room, Ruby was pleased to see that Linette had been bumped from the dais for the many visiting high-born Vikings. Many would go on to Jorvik and Sigtrygg’s castle the next day, while others would wait until next week to travel with Dar and his family to the Althing. Everywhere the crowd buzzed with news of Sigtrygg’s upcoming wedding.
Ruby’s heart lurched, though, when she saw the young woman sitting next to Thork at the head table. Her long chestnut hair hung past her shoulders, held in place by a gold circlet around her forehead. No more than fifteen years old, she seemed to answer Thork’s questions shyly, averting her eyes from his direct stare, then darting interested glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.
It had to be the Saxon-Viking maid Elise that Dar wanted for Thork. Elise’s father, whose lands adjoined Dar’s, sat on one side of Dar, his wife on the other.
In disgust, Ruby took a hefty swig of the hearty Viking ale and choked. It was odious.
“Tastes like horse piss, does it not?” a young pimply-faced hesir whined next to her. “The best wine and mead go to the upper tables.”
Ruby put her elbow on the table, holding up her chin, and wondered what else could go wrong. First Linette, now this beautiful young girl. Ruby watched painfully as Thork cut a prime piece of meat off the platter he shared with the girl and handed it to her considerately. She smiled sweetly at him in thanks.
Ruby thought she would puke.
Ella walked by with a tray of bannock, and Ruby stopped her. “Do you think you could bring me some wine?”
“Needin’ ta drown yer sorrows, are ya?” she said, cocking her head toward the dais, but she returned shortly with a small jug which she’d hidden in her skirts.
“Do not let anyone see this,” Ella said, sliding it under the bench at Ruby’s feet. ” ‘Tis from Dar’s private Frisian stock.”