Page 44 of The Reluctant Viking

Freydis pulled an object out of her bag and shoved it into Ruby’s hands. The wrinkled, grayish-colored stuff looked like the pig’s intestines used for sausage casings she’d seen on her grandfather’s farm as a child.

“What is it?” Ruby asked, raising questioning eyes to Freydis.

“A condom,” Freydis said proudly. “I made it myself.”

Ruby tried not to smile as she examined the ugly object more closely. Freydis had sewn the end of the clean casing with tiny stitches to hold the sperm inside.

Before Ruby had time to react, the other women brought forth their creations. One woman had embroidered Norse symbols in red and gold thread down the length of hers. Another had used a pig’s bladder and made it so long and big the husband would have to be immense to fill it. She looked sheepishly at Ruby and said, “My Gorm is fair like a tree trunk when the lust comes, but mayhap I did make it a mite too big.” The women hooted teasingly at her words.

When Ruby finally had time to register what the women showed her, she started to laugh. She couldn’t help herself. She laughed so hard the tears came and her side hurt, but still she couldn’t stop. Finally, Gyda clapped her hard across the back and forced her to drink a cup of water. Wiping the tears from her face, Ruby looked at the curious women, who couldn’t understand her reaction.

“Homemade condoms just won’t work,” Ruby said gently. “They’re bound to leak or break. I’m sorry if I led you to believe you could make them yourselves.”

“Well, I see them not as useless,” Freydis argued. “Aught is better than naught. I will check each of mine to make sure they are perfect, unbroken. The finest, tightest stitches I will use.” The other women concurred, ignoring Ruby’s criticisms.

“You know, you could follow the rhythm method,” she offered. “It’s not perfect, but I think it would be more effective than your homemade condoms.”

She explained the rhythm method to them, telling them how to keep a calendar and which days of the months they were most fertile. They listened attentively, but one woman summed up most of their feelings when she said, “Think you a husband in the mood will turn away when his wife says ’tis the wrong time?” Only one young lady disagreed: “Some husbands would. If the wife’s life was in danger, some would wait.”

Ruby resolved after that to keep her mouth shut, not to volunteer any more information. What she didn’t need was to call attention to herself, and that’s just what she’d been doing by creating a stir with her lingerie and birth control. No more!

Thork and Olaf had been gone the past week. They had sold most of the goods carried on Thork’s ships, a percentage of which belonged to Olaf, and had stored the rest on Dar’s estate where they’d been the past week. The Althing would be held in three short weeks. Thork was making a concerted effort to take care of business before he left Jorvik—and her—for a long, long time. She might not ever see him again.

Ruby could not think beyond the present. Her future fluttered dark and shadowy in front of her. Not only was she terrified of her “trial” at the Althing, but the prospect of being alone in the Viking land, without Thork, traumatized her with its uncertainties.

She tried to keep the fearful images at bay with busy work, but she and Gyda both froze with surprise in the midst of drying mushrooms two days later to see Thork and Olaf and a strangely familiar gray-haired man come stomping into the house.

A gamut of emotions rippled through Ruby as she faced her husband, who was not her husband—mostly just plain happiness to see him again. Her spirits were out of sync, however, with the tense drama being played out on Thork’s stormy face.

“What in the name of Loki have you been up to now?” Thork demanded of Ruby, without any greeting.

His riveting gaze accused her coldly, so different from the last time she’d seen him outside Olaf’s barn, where they’d shared a sweet kiss. Under his steady scrutiny, Ruby’s confidence faltered uneasily.

“Less than a sennight I have been gone and already you create a furor!”

“Me?” Ruby’s blood ran cold. Her mind worked overtime to understand his accusation. She had a sneaking suspicion about what prompted Thork’s irritation, but hoped it wasn’t true. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she fabricated.

“Sigtrygg sent an urgent message demanding I return to Jorvik at once—to remove the troublesome wench from his city afore she created a rebellion among the woman. Could he perchance refer to you?” Thork asked smoothly.

Fear rose biliously to her throat, but Ruby opted for a brave front.

“Really! What could one woman do? He’s just on the down side of one of his mood swings.” Ruby’s heart sank at the sure knowledge the king had heard about her birth control lectures. Oh, boy!

Ruby peered up at Thork through lowered lashes, trying to gauge just how upset he was. Thork stood in an angry, widespread stance, glowering down at her with hands on his hips. As if she were a naughty child! Should she warn him ahead of time what to expect from the king? Nah! she decided. Let him find out for himself.

“Thork, do you not introduce me?” the gray-haired gentleman asked petulantly.

Thork turned away reluctantly, not having got the needed answers from her. Before he did, he shot her a loaded look that said he would deal with her later. “Ruby, this is my grandfather Dar,” Thork said grudgingly.

“Ah! The wench who claims to be your wife from the future.” The old codger chuckled with relish.

“Who told you that?” Thork scoffed, taking the ale Gyda offered him and quaffing it down, then wiping his mouth with the back of a dusty sleeve. His day-old beard and his rumpled, dirty clothing bespoke the urgency of Sigtrygg’s recall, Ruby realized with new foreboding.

“Word travels fast, even to our remote area.” Dar winked conspiratorially at Ruby.

Ruby blinked dazedly over the fast pace of all the innuendos flying over her head. Ruby should have known the man was related to Thork. Dar was about the same height, though his shoulders stooped slightly with age and his build was not so muscular. His face mirrored a craggy, older version of Thork’s, both arrogant and handsome as hell.

“Aud and her ladies ask that I bring back samples of the strange garments they hear so much about,” Dar told Ruby. Amusement flickered in his rheumy eyes. “By the blood of Christ, I know not why women need waste good cloth to cover a bare arse, nor the tit that is better left uncovered to suckle the babe or succor the man.”