The Very Virile Viking

by Sandra Hill

  "Or do numbers." Njal groaned.

  "Methinks the worst thing is reading," Hamr said, "though I would like to learn what happens next to that Harry Potter fellow."

  "I have an extra hour each day, Mr. Ericsson. You said you wouldn't mind some tutoring yourself," Matt pointed out.

  Magnus's face grew warm and he shifted from foot to foot, even as his sons clapped and hooted with laughter. "A man is never too old to learn, but I must wait till after harvest. That is when I will commence."

  "I'll be back in grad school then, but my girlfriend, Marcy, is student-teaching nearby. Maybe she would be interested in tutoring you."

  Magnus said, "That sounds fine."

  Angela said, "I don't know about that."

  Torolf said, "Hey! How come Father gets a female tutor? No offense, Matt, but you are not pretty at all."

  Kolbein said, "I need a nap."

  Hamr said, "If I get all the answers right on my numbers tomorrow, can I get a bow and arrow?"

  Storvald said, "I am thinking of building a longship."

  And Magnus escaped into the kitchen with Angela. The smells emanating from the stove and table were marvelous. Grandma Rose was making peach and strawberry preserves.

  Angela went up and gave her grandmother a greeting kiss on the cheek. Apparently Angela had come to see him first on her arrival home after being away five days.

  "Sweetie, I didn't know you were back. I'll be done here soon. Juanita is out in the garden picking some eggplant for dinner." Grandma Rose glanced at him then, making a quick tsking noise when she noticed him taking some cookies from the cookie jar. "You'll spoil your dinner."

  "Never!" he replied with a laugh.

  Grandma Rose laughed, too. "By the way, a Dr. Neville called you today. Said he'd see you at the hospital."

  He nodded and started toward the stairs. "Do I have time to shower before dinner?"

  "Plenty of time," Grandma Rose said.

  Angela caught up with him in the hall. "Who's Dr. Neville? I don't recall that name among Jogeir's physicians."

  "He is a physician I met one day whilst you were gone. I am thinking about having a little snipping done myself. Would you like to take a shower with me, sweetling? I have missed you sorely… and I do mean sorely."

  "No, I am not taking a shower with you in broad daylight with Grandma and all the kids about. What kind of snipping?" She had picked up a small piece of leather luggage at the bottom of the stairs and was carrying it up to her bedchamber, he presumed.

  "A vasectomy."

  Angela stopped dead in her tracks, dropped the luggage, and didn't even look backward as it toppled down the steps. "You? You are having a vasectomy?"

  "I agree it is hard to fathom how a man like me would consider being cut there, but Harry assures me that it is painless and very effective. I have not made a final decision yet, though. What… what troubles you, Angela?"

  She was staring at him as if he had stabbed her. "You were going to make such a monumental decision without consulting me."

  He was about to advise her that she was not his mother or his wife… but luckily he curbed his tongue. She did have some rights. After all, she shared her body and her home with him. She was the woman he loved, who loved him in return. "Angela," he began more patiently, "I have bred eleven living children. 'Tis more than enough for any man. Truly, I cherish each of my children, but I would not want another."

  "Not even one of mine?" Her voice broke on a sob.

  "Oh, God! You are with child," he concluded, putting a hand out to clasp her on the shoulder. "I thought you said that you were taking birthing-control pills, but then, they do not work perfectly; that is what Juan told Torolf. Oh, God!"

  She slapped his hand away and charged ahead of him the rest of the way up the stairway. When he followed her into her bedchamber, she informed him icily, "No, I am not pregnant. Lucky you!"

  Whew! "Angela, what is this about?"

  "I'll tell you what this is about," she said, but then she seemed unable to speak. When he started to approach her, she put up a halting hand. Finally she calmed herself and asked, "Having no father here, let me be the one to ask. What are your intentions toward me?"

  "Huh?" Uh-oh, I know where this conversation is headed.

  "Are you even remotely considering marriage?"

  Remotely. "Of course, but there are many other things to be settled first."

  "Like vasectomies?"

  "Why do you keep harping on that operation? I will not have it done if you do not want me to. Really, 'tis not important."

  Carmen was right. You are a dumb man. "Yes, it is important, Magnus."

  A prickling of suspicion rippled through his thick brain, but he waited for Angela to say it herself.

  "I want to have a baby myself. Just one. I want to experience childbirth. To breast-feed my own child. To have a child with you."

  Oh, nay! Nay, nay, nay, nay, nay! Ask me for gold. Ask me for jewels. Ask me to swine you silly. Ask me to lay down my life for you. But do not ask me to have another child. He knew his inner thoughts would be hurtful to her, so he kept them to himself. But he could not think of any words that would soothe her spirits.

  Apparently his silence was telling to her. Her shoulders slumped and tears misted her eyes.

  "I would not mind marrying you, but no more children," he said as gently as he could.

  "You would not mind…" she sputtered, then spun on her heel and rushed into her bathing chamber, where she locked the door after herself, but not before telling him to do something to himself that he was fairly certain was anatomically impossible… although Balki the Braggart had once claimed to do such. But then, Balki was the same person who claimed he could tie his man part in a knot and still engage in sexplay.

  In any case, it was not the homecoming celebration he had envisioned.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gimme a good dumb-man joke…

  Angela couldn't sleep much that night, so she went down to the kitchen at five a.m. and plugged the coffeepot in. She had decided to return to the city for a few more days, to give Magnus breathing room and herself a chance to figure out where she wanted to go with this relationship. Besides, she had more than enough work piled up at the office, and her boss was beginning to gripe about her erratic hours.

  Magnus had hurt her deeply with his comments last night. He was clueless in his dumb-man finesse—or lack of it—but if nothing else, he was honest to the bone. And what he had said to her was his heartfelt sentiment. He loved her, but he did not want any more children. Furthermore, he probably preferred not to marry again, after all his past bad experiences.

  "Angela!" Magnus exclaimed, coming into the kitchen in his work clothes—faded jeans and a T-shirt. She should not have been surprised to see him downstairs so early. He liked to start his day at sunrise. "What are you doing up?" Just then he noticed her luggage sitting near the door. "Oh, nay! You are not leaving again? Please let us talk about this."

  She shook her head. "Not now. Give me a couple of days to get my emotions under control. When I'm able to think more clearly, we can talk."

  "Do you want me to leave the Blue Dragon?"

  "No!" she practically screamed. More softly she said, "No, I don't want you to leave here. Please stay. I'll be back."

  He sat down dejectedly on the bench across from her. "I do not want to lose you."

  "I'm only going to L.A. I'll be back by Saturday. Carmen invited all of us to the Cultural Awareness Festival at her college. It's a two-day event featuring all different cultures, their history, their arts and crafts, their foods, their music."

  "In other words, boring. If Carmen is involved, it will be 'politically correct,' as well. That is the right term, is it not? Holy Thor, I can just see it. Vikings who use their swords to chop wood. Indians who eat no red meat. Saracen soldiers who recite poetry. Saxons who abhor fighting. Byzantine warriors who discover their feminine sides."

  "I promised Carmen that we would
come… or, at least, that I would, with some of the kids." She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly inquiring whether he would join them.

  He groaned. "Carmen hates me."

  "She does not hate you."

  "Then why is she always telling those dumb-man jokes in front of me? 'Why is a man's sperm white and his piss yellow? So he can tell whether he's coming or going.' " He told the joke in a perfect imitation of Carmen's condescending voice.

  Angela had to smile, despite the grimness of her mood. Carmen did like to jab at Magnus a bit, and he always rose to her bait… which was her point, of course.

  "Do not go, Angela," Magnus pleaded, reaching across the table to take her hand in his.

  "To the cultural festival?"

  He shook his head. "Do not go back to the city today. I am a lack-wit betimes. I say lack-wit things. Give me a chance to make it up to you."

  "Magnus, you didn't say anything that you didn't mean. You might find a way to sugarcoat your words, but the facts remain the same. You want different things from life than I do."

  "I want you."

  "I know that." Angela rose from the table and walked toward the door. She had intended to wait till Grandma awakened before leaving, but her nerves were strained to the point of breaking. Much longer in Magnus's presence and she was going to commence bawling. That was something she didn't want her grandmother or Magnus to witness.

  She was picking up her bag and opening the door when Magnus said. "But I love you."

  Before she left, she turned slightly and told him, "There are a lot of things I'm unsure of right now, but there's one I'm certain about. Love is not enough."

  Getting back in m'lady's good graces…

  One week later, Magnus had grudgingly agreed to attend the half-brained culture festival at Carmen's college, but he was not happy about it. In the end, he'd had no choice. It was either tag along with Angela and the children, or stay home brooding.

  He'd decided to tag along and brood.

  Carmen started in on him right off. No sooner had they exited their cars and begun walking up the steps to the big brick building than she gave him an insulting onceover examination. Then she asked, "Do you know why dumb men get married?"

  Stricken, he looked quickly at Angela. Had she been discussing their personal problems with her cousin? She shrugged her ignorance of what Carmen was talking about.

  "Someone ought to tell Carmen that the smirk on her face is highly unattractive. I am thinking about introducing her to Harry, who would be just the man to put her in her proper place," Magnus told Angela in an undertone.

  "Don't… you… dare," she replied.

  "So they don't have to hold their stomachs in anymore," Carmen said, answering her own question.

  Magnus exhaled with relief that Angela had not betrayed him by discussing their intimate lives. But then he immediately glanced down at his flat stomach. Was Carmen intimating that he was getting fat?

  Carmen let loose a hoot of laughter that she had caught him once again.

  He shook his head from side to side. "Carmen, you are a comely woman, though far too skinny, with way too many brains. 'Twould do you a world of good if you would dumb down—'tis an expression I heard on the tell-a-vision—which you are already doing, of course, by displaying those nipples of yours like arrowheads about to spear your next target." Well, that should shut the bothersome wench up for now.

  Dagny, Kirsten, and Lily put hands over their mouths, trying to suppress their giggles. Torolf was laughing outright. The other boys were waiting with great delight for what would come next… no doubt hoping that Carmen would whomp him over the head with that arse-pack she wore around her waist.

  Carmen was, indeed, speechless for a moment. She glanced down at her white tee-shert, which displayed the message, I am woman. I am invincible. I am tired. It should have had one more line: And I have big nipples. In truth, her nipples, without any undergarment, did stick out prominently. When she regained the power of speech, she said with great vehemence, "You are so crude. Why do you… why do men… keep fixating on physical appearance?"

  "You started it. You are the one who mentioned my stomach."

  She ignored his words and continued: "Women will never be equal to men till they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut and still think they are hot stuff."

  "There you go again, implying I have a big belly."

  "Every conversation in the world is not about you… you farmer. Did you hear why the dumb farmer watered his garden with whiskey? So he could grow stewed tomatoes."

  "Are you maligning farmers now?"

  "No, honey, just dumb ones."

  He said the only thing he could think of to say, and it was really dumb: "Nipples."

  But apparently it was the right retort if he wanted to further anger the woman. Her face turned red as a… well, stewed tomato… and her painted fingernails were curving into claws.

  He stepped away slightly, not taking any chances with those lethal weapons.

  "Carmen… Magnus… let's call a truce here. It's going to be a long day if you two are scrapping from the get-go." It was Angela who was trying to be the peacemaker.

  Magnus noticed then that all his children were watching the exchange between him and Carmen with great interest, except for Lida, who kept reciting her newest word over and over, "La-La, La-La, La-La…" It was short for Angela. He could tell that Angela was immensely pleased by Lida's affectionate chanting of her name, especially when she interspersed her babbling with wet kisses to her cheek. What was it about women throughout the ages that they went all soft and melty over kisses? He would like to plant a few on Angela and see if she went all soft and melty for him.

  "I agree," Carmen conceded, "but I'll tell you one last thing, Angela. You are a wine maker, so you should recognize that men are like fine wines. They start out like grapes, but it takes a good woman to stomp them till they mature into something even remotely above the level of a slug."

  "So you recommend a lot of stomping, eh?" Angela asked.

  "You can stomp on me anytime you want, sweetling," Magnus told Angela. See, he could be peaceable, too.

  "Oh, good Lord! You look at Angela as if she's a piece of candy. It must be true what they say. Some men drink from the fountain of knowledge, but most of them just gargle."

  "Nipples, nipples, nipples," he said.

  "Dumb, dumb, dumb," Carmen said.

  Magnus made a low growling sound in his throat and had to tighten his hands into fists to keep from strangling the witch. Seeing how upset he was getting, Angela handed Lida over to him, probably figuring that with a baby in his arms, he wouldn't commit any violence.

  "Dost think you have gotten the last word, Carmen? Well, mayhap so, but just let me end our discussion with this thought: If women knew what men were really thinking, they would ne'er stop slapping us. And my thoughts right now are extremely slappable with regard to you… and not in a lustsome way, either, even with your wanton display of nipples."

  Carmen bared her teeth at him and no doubt would have indeed slapped him if Angela hadn't taken him by the upper arm and led him into the building.

  "You have to learn to ignore Carmen," Angela told him.

  "She does not bother me overmuch," he boasted, now that he had put his back to the irksome gnat.

  He should have known that Carmen wouldn't let him go so easily.

  "Hey, Magnus," Carmen called to his back. "Do you know why doctors slap babies' butts right after they're born?"

  He faltered, but continued to walk.

  "Don't turn around. Just keep walking," Angela told him. To Carmen, she merely said, "Tsk, tsk, tsk."

  "To knock the penises off the smart ones."

  "Can I please lop off her head?" he asked Angela. "Or leastways her tongue?"

  "No!" Angela shook her head, laughing. He was not certain if she was laughing at Carmen's jest or at him. It mattered not. She was laughing. He would take her good moods any way they were ha
nded to him these days.

  So to Angela he said, "Whate'er you say, dearling."

  And to Carmen, he said, "Whatever!"

  The shock of a lifetime…

  They were having a good time this afternoon—a really good time—and that surprised Angela. For some reason all her bitterness and anger toward Magnus had melted away—probably because she had missed him so much this past week—and replacing it was a real joy in just being in his company and that of his children.

  This was no group of rank amateurs who had gathered here at the cultural fair. Oh, there were the usual Society of Creative Anachronism types, but even these knew their subjects well. Many of the exhibits were commercially sponsored by jewelers, soap makers, painters, and wood sculptors, but that in no way diminished the quality of the lore and exhibits.

  Magnus purchased a beautiful Mexican turquoise pendant for Angela and turquoise beaded necklaces for Dagny, Kirsten, and Lily, and even a turquoise brooch in a sterling silver setting for Carmen, who accepted it grudgingly, not really wanting to be beholden to Magnus.

  Hamr and Njal got Native American feathered headdresses, but were not entirely happy because their father refused to add hatchets to the ensembles. Lida was already wearing the soft leather moccasins Magnus had acquired from the same Indian tribe. He bought Torolf a handworked leather vest made by Eskimos. Storvald was practically ecstatic over the carved and painted Mallard duck created by some group purporting to represent American frontiersmen. Kolbein kept rubbing a softly woven Scottish plaid throw blanket against his face. Jogeir, who had stayed behind at Blue Dragon, still recuperating from his operation, would be delighted with the Chinese gazing ball that would be his gift.

  Angela had made some purchases, too, including a Scottish plaid kilt for Magnus. When he'd asked her if that meant she would be letting him model it for her, she answered honestly, "I don't know."

  Carmen came up to them just as they were about to go out the back door. She told them that there were dozens of exhibitors outdoors, especially those with large products, or those who had working craftsmen at their booths. Plus, the SCA was staging a number of events there, including a Highlander log-throw contest, a performance by Lippizaner stallions, kung fu demonstrations, and even a mock battle between the Saxons and the Vikings. Angela was excited to see how Magnus and his kids would react to these modern re-enactments of his people. The children ran off ahead of them, but she and Magnus were slowed down by Lida, who was balking at the stroller and wanted to walk herself.