Page 60 of The Reluctant Viking

“Ruby!” At first, Tykir’s eyes lighted up with welcome, but then he shadowed them carefully. Even he must have been told to distrust the strange woman who might be the enemy.

“What is your horse’s name?”

“He has none.” Tykir looked surprised. “Should he have?”

“Well, not everybody names their horse, but I thought since this one seems so special to you it ought to have a name.”

“Could we name him?” he asked shyly.

“Of course. Can you think of any names that you like?”

He shook his head sadly, as if he must be lacking in some important way.

“Well, my boys never had a horse—”

“They never had a horse? Ever?” To Tykir, that appeared to be the ultimate loss in the world.

“Never, but they had pet dogs. Let me think. Over the years, there were Rover, Morris, Nellie and Elvis.”

“Elvis,” Tykir whispered in awe. “’Tis a wondrously fine name, think you not?”

Oh, no! This was one place Elvis followers would never expect a sighting, Ruby thought, stifling a laugh. Tykir’s emotions were so open and vulnerable. The little stinker looked as if he hadn’t bathed in days. His blond hair, so like his father’s, stuck out in greasy spikes as he gazed hopefully up at her. Ruby felt her heart expand and fill with warmth. How could Thork and Dar and Aud bear to neglect such a dear little soul?

“I think Elvis would be a wonderful name,” she declared, and was rewarded with a grateful smile.

“Why is your hair wet?” Tykir asked.

“I was swimming in the pond. Have you been there?”

He nodded. “But I cannot swim. Father…I mean, Thork…is gonna teach me someday, but he mus’ go Jomsviking soon.” He raised his chin defiantly, his voice quivering with unshed tears “Someday I will be a Jomsviking, too. Then I kin be with my…with Thork…as much as I want.”

One more bone Ruby had to pick with Thork, she thought. “Does Eirik want to be a Jomsviking also?”

“Nay, he dreams of being a fosterling at the Saxon court, like Uncle Haakon, who is of the same age,” Tykir said with distaste, scrunching up his nose. “He sez we Vikings mus’ learn the Saxon way to survive in their lands.” Tykir blushed and looked down sheepishly then, as if he knew he’d said too much.

“Does his father know of this wish?”

“Nay, Eirik could ne’er tell him that.”

This whole situation of separating parent and child was ridiculous, in Ruby’s opinion. No, more than that, it was destructive, and she vowed to do something about it. Ruby knew she would have to employ tact in persuading Thork to act the true father to his sons—even if it meant giving up his precious Jomsviking oath, even if it meant moving to a new land. Even if it meant Thork’s taking her with him—if that’s what it would take to escape this dangerous nightmare, Ruby vowed.

But Ruby became increasingly alarmed the next few days as the Althing approached and Thork accelerated his activities related to his departure for Jomsborg. What would happen to her at the Viking-style court? If the venomous looks she got from Dar’s knights and workers were any indication, her fate loomed bleak. All free males in Northumbria, including these very men, could vote at the open-air assembly.

Well, if no one else was going to help her, she would have to take matters in hand herself, but first she needed a plan. Not just any plan. It had to be the ultimate, sure-fire master plan—the mother of all plans.

Thork will have to marry me.

It was the only way. If he married her, none of the Vikings would dare harm her, and she could make a home for Eirik and Tykir. She had no other choice. So, finally, she settled on a three-part strategy: persuasion, seduction and/or force, in that order. She hoped the last would not be necessary. Actually, she hadn’t even thought that far.

Ruby decided to enlist Ella in her plot.

“’Tis barmy ya are! I told ya that the first day I saw ya at the docks,” Ella exclaimed, trying to slink away. “Mebbe ya got worms in yer head. That be it, I wager! Most folks has worms in their guts from eating maggoty food, but they unleashes them from their nether ends in the garderobe. The barmy ones, like you, well, the worms crawl up inta their heads and make ’em go mad. Onct I even heard ’bout a man whose worms crawled out his ears and—”

“No, no, no! I’m not crazy. Can’t you see that marriage with Thork would protect me from these vicious Vikings who’d just as soon have my head on a pike?”

Ella shook her head dubiously.

“Eirik and Tykir need a family. Maybe we could all move to another country where there would be no danger. Perhaps you could even come with us.”