Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 01] Read Online Free Page A

for a dream, she supposed.
    Before Ruby could respond to Jack’s astounding pronouncement, he stepped closer and his forefinger traced the letters on her shirt. He said the words aloud slowly, “Brass Balls,” looked questioningly at a man standing next to him, then back at her and grinned, apparently understanding what the words symbolized. Several men chuckled behind him. However, his amusement turned to anger again.
    “So…you carry a message to us from Ivar that his men have superior male parts made of metal?” He spoke loud enough for all the people to hear. Good Lord! She’d landed in some kind of Bedlam.
    “Know you the male parts of Ivar’s men from experience, wench?” he baited snidely.
    “Shut up, Jack. You’re embarrassing me.”
    He took hold of her sore chin and squeezed, looking her directly in the eye. “Thork. Mark my words well, wench. My name is Thork.”
    Ruby whimpered in pain, but still he didn’t relent.
    “Say it.”
    When she refused, he squeezed harder, and Ruby gasped out, “Thork, you jerk! Thork! Thork!”
    “‘Jerk’ best be a title of respect,” he warned.
    “Oh, yes, it means something like ‘lord and master.’”
    Jack looked unconvinced but, nevertheless, released her chin and addressed the mob. “Ivar sends the boy-woman to challenge us, methinks. Yea, he taunts us to war again. Bad enough he raids our lands whilst we are gone a-Viking or trading. Now he sends this insulting message.Brass balls! Hah! Shall we show Ivar now and forever who the best men be?”
    A roar rose like thunder through the crowd. Good grief! Who ever heard of a T-shirt causing a war? Ruby tried to express her opinion on their mistaken notions, but Olaf clamped a smelly palm over her mouth. She stomped on his soft leather shoes, and, to her chagrin, he didn’t budge an inch. Looking over her shoulder, she saw his smirk as he stated with smug self-satisfaction, “Not Oaf. Olaf.”
    Maybe the guy wasn’t as dumb as she’d thought.
    “We must bring this spy to King Sigtrygg,” Thork said. “Let him decide the fate of the thrall and whether or not we go to war with Ivar.” Another roar of approval went through the crowd.
    “Now ya done it,” Rhoda whispered in her ear. “Sigtrygg One-Eye be a mean buzzard. Prob’ly lop off yer head. Or pluck out yer eyes. Or—”
    “Give me a break, Rhoda. You’ve been reading too many tabloids again.”
    “Come, thrall,” Jack commanded. “The other slaves stay.”
    “Just who do you think you’re calling a thrall?” Ruby protested, finally squirming out of the giant’s grasp. “I’m no more a slave than…than you are.”
    Jack had the gall to grin down at her. He was really enjoying her discomfort. Then he surprised her by putting a protective arm around her shoulder and saying, “Hold your tongue if you have a fondness for your fair head, sweetling. This crowd smells blood.”
    Sweetling! Ruby smiled, hopeful for the first time that day of a possible reconciliation between her and Jack. But she had only a moment to enjoy Jack’s quaint endearment.
    “Chop off ’er head here ’n now,” one man shouted with perfect timing. “Send it to Ivar in that shirt she wears.” Ruby looked over at a nodding Rhoda, whose expression said, “I told you so.”
    Another person yelled, “Why wait? Chop off ’er head now. She be a spy. Mebbe even Ivar’s woman. What better way to send a message!” If the roar of the crowd was any indication, a lot of people liked that idea.
    Instinctively, Ruby moved closer to Jack. Why wasn’t he revolted at the idea of beheading her? She’d been on enough camping trips with him to know he couldn’t even gut a trout without gagging. He should be her knight in shining armor. He should gallantly rescue her so they could ride off into the sunset. Wasn’t that the way it was supposed to happen in dreams?
    Instead, Jack asserted loudly, “Nay, the king must decide. Mayhap he will await a vote of the Althing when