Page 109 of The Reluctant Viking

Despite the large amount of alcohol he must have consumed, Thork carried himself with rigid dignity to the dais, pointedly ignoring Ruby who sat nearby. His bloodshot eyes spoke of sleepless nights and unspoken hurts. Ruby stood to go to him, but a guard placed a firm, forbidding hand on her shoulder, pressing her back to her seat. Thork’s impassive face showed no emotion, but Ruby noticed his fists clenching and unclenching where he held them behind his back in a seemingly casual pose. The movement sent ripples up the corded muscles of his bare arms.

“Didst the misbegotten whelp of Rognvald wish to address the misbegotten whelp of Harald?” Thork snarled at Hrolf, throwing the insult in the Norman ruler’s message back in his face.

Thork’s arrogant stance, as well as the foolhardy words, infuriated Hrolf. He stood angrily, dwarfing everyone around him with his size and temper. Only Poppa’s hand on his arm kept him from attacking Thork with his bare hands. Instead, he sat back down and scrutinized Thork with flashing eyes. “When dost thou leave for Jomsborg, Thork?” Hrolf inquired through tense white lips, his tone making it rudely apparent that Thork had worn his welcome thin. “Surely thou dost not worry over Ruby’s safety still?” His lips curled with contempt before he added, “I thought Jomsvikings were not permitted to leave their fortified palaces for more than three days at a time.”

Thork curled his lips, as well, mimicking Hrolf, and answered in a surly voice, “I had permission to conduct my grandfather’s business and to handle my own trading concerns, but, yea, I will depart soon. But first, I will speak to Ruby.”

“To ask her to accompany you to Jomsborg?”

“Yea.”

“I will not permit it.”

“You will not permit it!” Ruby gasped aloud. “Since when did I hand over control of my life?”

“Hold thy tongue, wench, or leave the hall,” Hrolf told her.

“She has a say in this,” Thork contended. The warm look he gave her showed his obvious pleasure in her having stood up to her imposing relative.

“Nay, she does not. As my granddaughter, I would have her wed, secure in the bonds of matrimony.”

“You talk from both sides of your face, Hrolf. For many years Poppa sat at your side without the marriage ties.”

Hrolf stood to his full height, livid with rage, and his retainers drew their weapons. “No man speaks disparagingly of Poppa. In the eyes of the Christian rites I took at the Treaty of St. Clair-sur-Epte, the king’s daughter Gisela became my wife. Even then, I considered Poppa my true wife, and I married her as soon as Gisela died.”

Sincere regret immediately flushed Thork’s face, and he hastened to assure Hrolf, “I apolgize for my inept words, Hrolf. There are many things for which I would heartily insult you, but ne’er would I slander Poppa. I merely meant to say that the more danico and the taking of mistresses is practiced widely by you and others without impunity.”

Hrolf gave a grudging nod of acceptance to Thork’s backhanded apology. He sat back down and tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the table.

“You may have my granddaughter only on the marriage bed,” he finally said, “and that is my final word. One last bit of advice—I would suggest you depart on the morrow afore bad deeds, as well as words, pass betwixt us.”

Thork held Ruby’s eyes questioningly. She was stunned by the finality of Hrolf’s command, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Before she could say anything, Thork turned and stormed from the hall, with Selik following after him.

“Please let me speak to him,” Ruby pleaded with Hrolf. “Just talk. That’s all.”

“Nay!” Hrolf growled, still angered by Thork’s words. “’Tis best to end it thus.”

Ruby ran from the hall in tears. What if Thork left Normandy without seeing her again? She had so much to say to him. Would she go with him if she could? Probably. No, actually, Ruby wasn’t sure. She needed first to know Thork’s feelings and what their relationship would be if she went to Jomsborg with him.

Ruby never would have been able to accept the role of “other woman” in her future life with Jack. Could she now? Oh, Lord! Ruby cried inwardly as the questions hammered away inside her head.

Poppa followed Ruby into her bedchamber and comforted her, “’Tis really for the best, my child. Believe me, I know well the pain of living with a man you love without the sanction of the church.”

“Would you have rather lived without him?”

Poppa smiled. “I did not love Hrolf at the start. He killed my father, Count Berengar of Bayeau, and took me captive. ’Twas later I grew to love him.”

“How could you?” Ruby asked, but, at the same time, she remembered Thork’s cruelty in imprisoning her in Olaf’s barn for five days and yet she still loved him.

“Hrolf is a hard man. Ne’er doubt it,” Poppa explained patiently, “but he is a just one, as well, and an outstanding leader. When we came to Normandy, Hrolf instilled the old Norse laws, especially those relating to the respect for a man’s property. So much did he want a peaceable land that he ordered his people to leave their valuable farm tools out at night, tempting thievery. If anything was stolen, he said he would be responsible.”

“Oh, Poppa, what has this to do with me and Thork?”

Poppa smiled indulgently and went on, “There was this farmer’s wife at Lonpaon who hid her husband’s plow, then asked for compensation for thievery. When Hrolf discovered the truth, he hung her, but, more important, he killed her husband, as well, for not controlling his mate better.”

“Are you warning me that Hrolf means what he says about me and Thork?”

“Yea, but I also ask that you remember he does what he considers fair.” Poppa shrugged and smiled enigmatically. “Mayhap it will all work out for the best.”