Dark Viking (12 page)

“First, you need to understand me and where I come from.”

He restrained himself from groaning, knowing she was going to repeat the time-travel nonsense.

“I come from the year two thousand and ten. In my time, life is so different. People ride horses only for pleasure, in most cases. Instead, they travel by horseless carriages, for lack of a better description, or even fly in the sky from one country to another in airplanes, which resemble enormous metal birds. For example, I could go from here to London in an hour. Most people don‟t hunt or fish for food. They have supermarkets where everything can be purchased. I won‟t even try to explain televisions or radios or computers. Just know that I could communicate with someone in, let‟s say, Iceland, just by picking up a black boxlike device called a phone.” His eyes went wider and wider as she spoke. It was impossible, of course, but she spoke with such conviction.

“The infant mortality rate is very low, compared to your time, because of all the modern hospitals and medicines. Birth control is available to women so that they can have sex and not get pregnant. Clothing and shoes are purchased in stores, ready made.

“We have many branches of military service, including the Navy SEALs—Sea, Air, Land special operations—which is what your brother Thorfinn is training to be. And although there have been women in the military for a long time, it‟s only recently that a female SEALs program was started called WEALS, Women on Earth, Air, Land and Sea. I joined that a year ago and am still in training.”

“Why would you want to fight?”

She shrugged. “I needed the money. My mother had been ill for a long time before she died, and I had creditors plaguing me like locusts. Plus I‟ve always been competitive and athletic, so when they recruited me from my stunt double job, it seemed the right thing to do.”

“I am almost afraid to ask. What is a stunt double?”

“It‟s hard to explain, but in my time we have movies, which are sort of like dramatic productions, except some are with high adventure. The stars of these productions are too valuable to risk their lives with dangerous stunts, so they send us doubles in for them.”

“Seems unfair.”

“It pays well.”

“Define dangerous.”

She grinned at him. “Jump off high buildings. Rappel up high buildings. Jump out of planes in the sky. Crash motor vehicles. Ride a horse over a deep ravine. Get shot with a weapon.

And, most recently, set myself afire.”

“You jest!”

She shook her head, pleased to have surprised him.

He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

“Assuming I believe you, and I cannot, where does Thorfinn fit into all this?”

“Well, I don‟t know him well at all. He apparently came to California two years ago. Word is that his cousin Torolf was in Baghdad for a SEAL mission, and they came across Thorfinn fighting off some Arab terrorists. They helped him and then brought him back to California.

No one has said so, but I realize now that the two time periods must have crossed, and Thorfinn time-traveled to the future.”

“Oh, this is just too much! You are saying my cousin Torolf is involved? Torolf disappeared years ago when . . .” His words trailed off. “You are saying that Torolf time-traveled, too?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. Actually, his entire family is in California, as far as I know. I went to a party at Madrene‟s home recently.”

He put up a halting hand. “Enough! ‟Tis bad enough trying to accept Thorfinn‟s passing through time, but a whole Viking clan? ‟Tis beyond belief.”

“I agree.”

“Back to Thorfinn . . . you say he has wed?”

She nodded. “Yep. About a year ago. He married Lydia Denton, a widow, who has a young son named Michael, whom Thorfinn adopted.”

“Michael? Are you serious? Thorfinn had been searching for years for his missing son Miklof. Could it be . . . nay, ‟tis not possible.” “Well, the little boy does resemble Thorfinn. In fact, he has the same color eyes as you and your brother.”

“He does? Oh, what a wonder it would be if Finn finally found his son again!”

“There‟s more, actually.”

He hesitated to ask.

“Your brother and Lydia are pregnant. She is expecting twins before Christmas.”

“Twins?” Tears filled his eyes then. He could not help himself. If only it were true! He could accept Finn‟s being gone if he knew he was happy. “Let us go there on the morrow,” he said. “I would visit my brother and see with my own eyes that he is well.”

“Uh, there might be a small problem.”

He frowned.

“I have no idea how I got here. Nor do I know how to return.”

“
What?
 Does that mean you are going to disappear in a poof of smoke one day without warning?”

“I don‟t know about the poof of smoke, and actually I don‟t know if I can go back at all.”

“You sound very calm about this, as if you accept your fate, no matter what.”

“I‟m not calm at all. Do you really think I want to live in such a primitive time?”

“I do not think we are so primitive.”

“Believe me, you‟re primitive.”

“So, you might stay here then?”

“I hope not. Don‟t worry. If I get stuck here, I won‟t be your responsibility.”

“Oh, really? Then whose?”

“My own. I‟ve been taking care of myself from a very young age. I don‟t need some man to take care of me.”

“And what would you do here, except cause trouble?”

She stuck out her tongue at him, which he was fairly sure was an insult. Or was it an invitation of sorts?

“You think I have all the answers. I don‟t even know if I‟ve really time-traveled, and if I have, why? But there are lots of things I could do. Teach children, for example.”

“Teach them what? How to fall off cliffs?”

She did not laugh at his jest, which was not really a jest, now that he thought on it.

“Reading, math, history, exercise. Or, hey, how about a women‟s studies class to teach females that they have as many rights as men do?”

“Odin spare me!”

“I could even entertain at banquets and stuff with my acrobatic talents. I do a mean triple backflip on parallel bars.”

“That is all I need!”

“Hey, I could be the official jokester here. I know a bunch of dumb man jokes.”

“Do not dare—”

“Some men drink from the fountain of knowledge, but most of them only gargle.”

“How about women? They no doubt sip.”

“Just think, if it weren‟t for marriage, most men would go through life thinking they had no faults at all.”

“You should have met Oslac‟s wife Girda. A great pair you would have made.”

“Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact with a woman? I‟ll tell you why. Breasts don‟t have eyes.” He just stared at her, unsmiling. “If those were jests, I do not see the humor. I assume that making mock of men is considered good entertainment in your country.”

She shrugged. “Okay, if you don‟t like my sense of humor, maybe I could set up a business cutting women‟s hair.”

He could tell she was just trying to needle him. Still, he ordered, “Never!”

“Or there must be some open-minded military commander in this blasted country who could use my fighting skills.”

He put his face in both hands and rubbed hard. When he looked back at her, he said, “I suspect you are going to turn my life upside down and inside out.”

“Ditto, babe. Ditto.”

When she began to yawn, not once but five times in a row, he told her, “Go to your bed. We will talk more in the morning.”

She nodded.

“Do you want me to accompany you?” he asked, recalling her earlier words of concern about walking amongst his men.

“Why?”

“I could tuck you in.”

“Hah! I know what you want to do, and it‟s not tuck, buddy.”

His eyes went wide when he realized what she meant. Never had he met a woman with such a frankness of manner about her, except mayhap his cousin Madrene, who had been beyond shrewish. Rita‟s bluntness was not shrewish, however, just surprising, and, in truth, rather refreshing.

She made her way down the dais and along the outer rim of the great hall. He and Oslac both watched her progress and the several times one or another of his men stood, about to approach her, but then stopped when they looked his way and saw the admonition in his expression.

“You are different already,” Oslac remarked as he took a long draw on his horn of ale.

Steven ignored his friend‟s remark, knowing he would not like his observation.

“Seriously, the witches are right.”

“Now, that comment I cannot ignore. Since when do you give credence to those lackbrained witches?”

“Since the sea siren arrived.”

Steven tossed his hands in the air in surrender. “Spill your guts. Tell me your wise words on the state of my being.”

Oslac grinned. “The witches have predicted for months that a light would come to Norstead to sweep away the gloom.”

“Now, see, I already disagree. Norstead is a prosperous estate. There is food, drink, and work aplenty. Why would it be gloomy?”

“Because you are gloomy. The sheep follow the ram‟s example.”

Steven rolled his eyes. “Methinks you have your proverb twisted.” He took a drink of ale, then another. He may need it if he was going to let Oslac spew his nonsense.

“I know you do not see the effect you have on those around you, but it is there nonetheless.”

“Since when are Vikings supposed to be cheery all the time?”

“Actually, Men of the North do have a reputation for enjoying life.”

“I enjoy life,” he insisted.

“But not like you used to.” “Ree-tah says I have the blues.”

“ ‟ Tis as good a name as any for ill temper.”

“And now you say I am different all of a sudden, just because the sea siren has arrived?”

“Not totally different, but you must admit, you have grinned more in the past day than you have in months.”

“Mayhap all the jokes are finally having an effect on me.”

Oslac cast him a disbelieving look. “And I can see that you enjoy her company.”

“She may leave at any moment, Oslac. Do not put too much weight on her contribution to the light or aught else here at Norstead.”

“I do not understand. How could she leave if you do not allow her to?”

“Because . . . are you ready for this, my friend? She claims to be a time traveler come to us from a thousand years in the future. A place where she claims Thorfinn now resides with his new wife, her son Michael, and upcoming twins, though how she knows they are twins in the belly, I have no idea. And one more thing . . . no more swiving Lady Thora. Apparently she is setting a marriage trap for one of us, according to Ree-tah.”

Oslac‟s jaw dropped nigh to his chest before he snapped his teeth shut. “Asabor!” Oslac yelled then to a passing maid. “Bring us another jug of ale. Nay, make that two jugs.” Then he turned to Steven. “Dost believe her? About the time travel, I mean.”

“Nay. Of course not. Mayhap. I do not know.”

“Good gods, but it is wonderful to have you back again. You always were such fun in the old days.”

“You think this is fun?”

“More than we have had lately. Uh-oh. I just noticed that your sea siren has come back downstairs and is heading through the corridor to the kitchens. Dost think she plans to fly away?”

Instead of answering, Steven stood, emptied his horn of ale, then stomped after her.

What next?
 he thought.

And smiled.

He realized in that second that he was, indeed, having fun, never knowing what the wench would do next.

To his surprise, he liked the not knowing.

I’m gonna wash that man right out of my heart . . .

Rita was in the laundry annex . . . an open-sided addition to the wooden castle . . . where kettles of water sat on low embers waiting for the morning wash.

Exhausted, she still worked to clean her tunic and braies, although they might not be dry by morning at this rate. What she wouldn‟t give for a washer and dryer! And she vowed that she was making herself some underwear tomorrow. How, she wasn‟t sure, having no sewing talents, but this bare butt under her gown was kind of creepy. Hey, she thought with hysterical irrelevance, maybe she could set up her very own Dark Age Victoria‟s Secret here. That would show that skeptical Steven of the Fjord that she could survive here, if she had to.

“What in 
Blód hel
 are you doing now?” Steven yelled, storming out of the keep, coming toward her.

“Laundering my clothes?”

“Why?” She put both hands on her hips and blew an errant curl off her forehead. “Silly question. So I have something clean to wear tomorrow.”

“I have laundresses to do that.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders sagged with relief. “Will they do my laundry, too?”

“They will do whatever laundry they are handed, or answer to me.”

“Okay,” she said, and just left the garments soaking in water. She was too tired to care, as evidenced by her tripping and almost falling after a few steps.

“Foolish wench!” he said, grabbing her at the last moment and putting an arm around her waist, tucking her to his side, to keep her from falling again. When she still sagged, he picked her up in his arms.

She couldn‟t remember the last time anyone, especially a man, had picked her up, but she had no energy to protest. In fact, it was kind of nice.

Holding her cradled to his chest, he was still able to lift the fillet off her head. “You look like an angel with a fallen halo.”

“I‟m no angel.”

“Thank the gods for small mercies!” He sniffed deeply. “You smell like roses.”

“It‟s the soap I was using to wash my clothes.”

“Rose-scented soap?”

“Uh-huh. I found it in Luta‟s chest.”

“Um . . . I do not think that soap was intended for laundry. It is too precious, coming no doubt from the Arab lands.”

“Uh-oh!” she said weakly, her eyelids already drifting shut.

Once again inside the keep, he approached the stairs.

“I feel like Scarlett being carried up the stairs by Rhett,” she said with a giggle, and she never giggled. All this time-travel nonsense and the horror of what it might portend for her future was finally catching up with her.