by Sandra Hill
"Hah!" From the time they were kids Jorund had always triumphed over his in the military arts.
"There will be no swordplay here." Rolf's wife spoke up for the first time. "Remember what happened the last time? Mike had to get stitches."
"Whate'er you say, dearling," Rolf replied, rolled his eyes at Jorund, as if fifteen stitches were a mere child's wound.
It was.
"By the by, Rolf remarked then. "When did you arrive in this land?"
"Three months ago."
"Three months! What have you been doing all this time?"
"Well, of late, I have been teaching demented people."
Rolf stopped walking and stared at him, gape-mouthed, as if he were himself demented, which of course they had thought he was at one time.
Then, just to tease his brother, he added, "In madhouse."
Rolf's jaw dropped a notch lower.
Leaning close to his brother's ear, he said, "One of the pay-shuns is a sex addict. One thinks he is Moses, on the days when he is not Charlemagne. Still another cannot get his cock to rise. One wench sings all day long. And there is Norse there named Glad-ass. Is that not amazing, Rolf?"
Bursting out with a short laugh, Rolf punch him in the arm. "You are making all this up."
"I am not. 'Tis true. Really." He called up " "Mag-he who was walking beside Roll's wife, and conversing softly with her. "Mag-he, tell the truth. Do you and I not work in a medhouse?"
She reddened at his words. "We work in a mental-health facility," she said, making a point of the distinction in wordng. The word madhouse is not used any more, Joe."
"Madhouse, mental-health facility 'tis the same titling—" he whispered to Rolf, but to Mag-he said, "Wha-te'er you say, dearling," repeating his brother's response to his wife. A fine response it was, too. It was always best to let women think they had the upper hand.
"Why does she call you Joe?"
Jorund shrugged. "'Tis a nicking name."
Rolf burst out with a chuckle. "Joe the Viking?"
Jorund rolled his shoulders in a gesture meant to convey, What could I do?
But then Roll smiled at him, hooking an arm around his neck and yanking him close. " 'Twould seem that you and I have much to discuss, brother."
That was the version of an understatement.
They were sittings, at the high table in Rolls great hall, the men sipping mead and the women tea. It was like stepping back in time, right down to the primitive weapons on the walls. During their tourist season, there were even rushes on the floor, which Meredith claimed were a pain in the neck to keep clean.
Lunch had been over an hour ago, but Maggie was still in a state of shock. She'd sent Suzy and Beth out with some of the older kids, including a girl named Thea, who'd come up with extra ice skates for them, along with gloves, knit caps, and warmer jackets. Maggie had been assured the ice was very thick and completely safe.
She liked Rolf and his wife... a lot. Right now Meredith was discreetly nursing her three month-old baby under a receiving blanket thrown over her shoulder.
Maggie couldn't help noticing the way Rolf's loving gaze kept going back to his wife, even as he spoke with Joe. And Meredith was equally enamored of her husband, which was evident in the pleasure she displayed over her husband's joy in being reunited with his brother. Whatever made him happy made her happy; that was obvious.
"Besotted, are you?" Joe teased his brother. Apparently he had observed the same bond between Rolf and Meredith.
"For a certainty," Rolf admitted without hesitation, leaning over to kiss his wife loudly on the mouth, then to give an equally loud smack to his now-sleeping daughter's cheek.
Both brothers had been talking rapidly ever since they'd come inside, catching up on all their news. Joe told Rolf everything that had happened to him since he'd arrived in Texas, and it was interesting to hear the spin he put on everything. All agreed that Joe's method of time travel, atop a killer whale, naked, was much more dramatic than Rolf's simple shipwreck. And all agreed, as well, that not one, but two brothers being time travelers was a remarkable coincidence.
As Joe and Rolf continued to reminisce, Maggie asked Meredith, "Didn't you find it hard to accept the concept of time travel?"
"Absolutely," Meredith said. "I still do."
Maggie nodded. It was the same with her. She accepted and did not accept at the same time.
"I'm a professor of medieval studies at Oxley College. My parents are professors. My grandfather was, too. All my life I was trained to believe in scientific, scholarly methods of research. I think that the only way I was able to reconcile logic with such a fantastic notion as time travel was that it was a miracle."
"That's amazing. I came to the same conclusion."
"I can't believe in time travel as a scientific concept..." Meredith started to explain.
"But you can accept a God with the power to do anything," Maggie finished for her.
"Right," Meredith agreed with a smile. "I really, really needed Rolf at the time when he arrived. I didn't realize it at first, of course, but in the end the things he brought to me... well, I can only describe him as a miracle."
Suzy and Beth burst into the great hall then, along with the other excited children. Thea, who was Meredith's fifteen-year-old niece, wrapped her arms around Rolf's neck from behind, hugging him tightly. Her hair was purple, and she had five earrings in each ear and an eyebrow ring. Maggie imagined that she'd make an interesting Viking maiden during the tourist season. Her mother, Meredith's sister, was in London at the moment, trying to establish new markets for the reproduction Viking jewelry that was crafted at Rosestead.
Her daughters' faces were red. Snow dusted their bright caps and gloves. They were gloriously happy, as only children could be.
And where did they rush first? To Joe. Maggie wasn't offended, though. Instinctively she understood how important he'd become in their lives. He didn't supplant her; he supplemented her.
With both of them speaking at once, it was hard to decipher their words, but mostly they were talking about how exciting it had been to ice-skate, and wasn't snow the greatest invention in the world, and would he please, please, please be on their side in the upcoming snowball fight? Joe listened attentively to all they said, seeming to be able to decipher who was saying what. He nodded and smiled, tugged playfully on Suzy's braids, and whisked some snowflakes off Beth's eyelashes. And Maggie's heart swelled and swelled and swelled.
She looked at Meredith, and Meredith looked back at her with understanding.
Maggie had never realized just how much her daughters had needed a father figure in their lives—a man just like Joe. Was it really as simple as the fact that they had prayed on a wishing star, and God had sent them Joe?
Truly, she concluded, her Viking had been a miracle, too. A Christmas miracle.
Later that day, Jorund was still touring the Rosestead village.
"I'm impressed," he told his brother. "Not just because you have built a thriving shipbuilding concern, and a world outlet for Norse crafts, and a tourist attraction, but you help troubled children as well. And look at how much you do to educate people in this land about Vikings."
"I am proud of my work," Rolf admitted with no token show of humility. It was the way of the menfolk in his family. 'Twas especially important to me that this enterprise succeed so that I could find a place for myself in this new world. I'm not sure what I could have done, if not for this."
Jorund understood. "A man needs to find work that suits his talents and feeds his soul."
"Yea, that is it exactly. Oh, I suppose I could have gotten work as a carpenter, but I doubt I could have worked for someone else. I am too used to leading."
That sentiment Jorund agreed with, too. In truth, he was not sure he could fit in so well in this society.
"What will you do now?" Rolf asked. "Now that you have found me... does that not fulfill our father's wishes?"
"I am not sure," he answered truthfully. "One pa
rt of me is joyous and says I am finally free .... "
"Free to do what?"
"That is the problem, I'm not sure. Just free, I suppose. Another part of me argues that I must go back. Do you know—I probably shouldn't tell you this but on one of the Enter-net history sites, it says that our father died in the year 999. That is only one year from the time I left. Mayhap if I go back I can forestall his passing on to Valhalla. And there was another thing, too. I saw my sword the very sword I carry with me now—pictured on that Webbing site. It said that the sword was buried in my grave mound. Surely that means that I must go back."
"The Webbing site also mentioned that the grave mound was for me, too, and I am not returning. It must be a mistake." Rolf frowned with bafflement.
"I do not know," Jorund answered desolately. "Mayhap I died far from home. All I know is that our father cannot be left ignorant of your fate... before he dies."
He added that last with a choked sound of pain. All of the Ericsson children were fond of their father.
Rolf put a hand on his shoulder. "Merry-death is an expert on ancient studies, and she tells me that the dates in the tenth-century histories are rarely accurate. Besides, it is not your responsibility."
"He is our father," Jorund cried out.
"Yea, he is, and though I expect ne'er to see him again in this life, it does not mean I love him any less because I choose to live my life here."
"But it's cruel not to let our father know that we—I mean, you—are well."
"I will say this, brother: you were ever the one to take on all the world's responsibilities."
Jorund bristled. "What mean you by that blather?"
" 'Tis not blather. Many a man would have refused to wed Inga if tricked into wedlock the way you were, but you felt responsible. Many a man has lost children and not felt the massive guilt that weighs you down, but you feel responsible. Many a man would have considered his father-duty ended when he completed his mission, but you feel a responsibility to tell our father in person. When does your responsibility to others end and your own happiness take precedence?"
He accepted that Rolf meant well, and much of what he said was true, but a strong sense of duty was in Jorund's nature. He could not change. Nor did he want to. At least, that was what he told himself. Inside he was not so sure.
"What of your Mag-he? Do you have a responsibility to her, as well?"
He shook his head. "Mag-he understands."
"Does she?"
He cocked his head to the side. "Do you doubt that?"
Rolf shrugged. 'I don't know. I suspect you are confused right now, and I do not want you to make any hasty decisions."
"I won't," he promised. "In the meanwhile, I am obliged to attend a singing competition on New Year's Eve... involving one of the pay-shuns from the madhouse—I mean, mental-health facility."
He grinned at his brother on making that correction. "Then, Sue-zee and Beth's birthing day is in February. I should probably stay till then. And Beth is planning a big protesting march at the orca park in April, and she asked specifically if I would be there for support, but—"
"More responsibilities?" Rolf was grinning at him knowingly.
"Then, too, I would really like to stay long enough to find out what happens to Josh and Reva." He ducked his head sheepishly.
"The Guiding Light! Do you watch that show, too? Ah, it is one of my favorites."
"Those two would make wonderful Vikings, do you not think?"
"I have said so on many an occasion to Merrydeath. And Alan Spaulding, he would be a true Viking villain, if you ask me. Much like that Storr Grimmsson."
"Who is dead, by the by, thanks to our father's men. Be assured there was a long torture afore his passing to avenge what he did to cause your shipwreck."
Rolf nodded his approval. "And may he be swiving Hel, the queen of the dead, in her icy home in Niflheim, as we speak."
They smiled at each other, being reminded that they were of like minds.
"You know, Rolf, there is so much that is better in this land than what we had, but the excess bothers me."
"I cannot believe this. I had the same feelings when first I arrived. How can men be men if their hard work is not required to bring food to the table and shelter overhead?"
Jorund nodded. "And they take all this abundance for granted. When wealth comes too easily, it is not appreciated. And I'll tell you something else: this business of men and women being equal is sheer nonsense. Men are men, and women are women. Each have their given tasks Why are you grinning?"
"Because my wife would knock you over the head with an oar if she heard you talk so."
"Mag-he would no doubt do the same, but that does not make it less true." Jorund raised his chin defiantly.
They slapped their arms around each other's shoulders then and started to walk back toward the keep. Dusk was approaching early, and the snow was falling more heavily. Jorund inhaled deeply of the cold air. Just like home, he thought.
"I'll tell you one thing I favor about this country." Rolf wagged his eyebrows mischievously. "Drekking."
"Drekking? What in bloody hell is that?"
"Well, I have developed a fondness for this particular kind of hair soap called Breck, which is no longer sold in this country, but Merry-death and I bought boxloads of it from a remainder outlet. In any case, there is this most delicious activity that a man and woman can do together in the shower with Breck." He rolled his eyes meaningfully. "Drekking."
"Now, that is something I understand. You can do the same with liquid body soap."
Rolf's jaw dropped open. Apparently he hadn't expected his brother to adapt as well as he had.
"Why are you so surprised?"
"I am surprised because you were never so frivolous afore. In truth, from the time we were youthlings together you were always somber."
"Frivolous? Pfff. What is frivolous about sex play? Did you think I was a monk just because I performed the somber work of war?"
Rolf grinned at him. Really, Jorund thought, his brother was doing a great amount of grinning today, at his expense.
"I will give this land credit for two things: Big Macs and french fries," Jorund remarked. "Ne'er have I eaten such delicacies, even in the courts of Byzantium."
"Hah! I think the greatest delicacy is Oreos."
"Too sweet!"
"Too greasy!"
They were about to argue the point further; then both shrugged.
"There is one remarkable thing I have noticed about this land—" Jorund started to say, then stopped himself. Why give his brother cause for more grinning?
"What?" Rolf prodded. "Do not be shy now, brother."
Jorund knew he would regret his hasty words, but... What the hell! That was a handy expression Steve had taught him. With his eyes at half mast, he slowly divulged, "Well, have you noticed how much bigger your staff gets in this land?"
At first Rolf just stared at him blankly. Then his gaze moved lower, to his groin. "That staff?"
"Of course, that staff. How many other staffs are there?"
"And yours is bigger in this land?"
"Immense."
"You lie." Rolf hooted. Then, "Show me."
"I do not lie, and I will not show you. Besides, it only gets big when I am around Mag-he."
"You lackbrain. All men's man parts get big when they are aroused by their women."
"I know that," Jorund said with disgust. His brother was speaking to him as if he were an untried boy. "I am talking of huge. Not big, huge."
"Methinks time travel has distorted your eyes."
"Methinks I will never tell you any secrets ever again."
"That is not a secret. That is news of great import. Viking men throughout the Old World will be seeking to travel to the future on the promise of that alone—big cocks."
Rolf and Jorund were laughing heartily when they reentered the keep.
"What's up?" Merry-death and Mag-he asked them both at the same time.
/> The women could not understand why that simple question caused the two brothers to burst into more hysterical laughter.
After three days, it was time to go home.
Suzy and Beth were already in the rental car, but they had the windows open and were waving and saying last-minute good-byes to all their new found friends. There were promises of e-mail letters to be exchanged and possible future visits.
Mike Johnson had been taking photographs the entire time during their visit, and now he was snapping last-minute shots... group pictures, individual ones, all different combinations. He was going to the one-hour processing center that afternoon and promised to send copies to them in Texas as soon as they were developed.
"Come back anytime," Meredith urged, hugging Maggie warmly. "It's especially beautiful here in the summer."
"Maybe." Maggie hugged her back.
It was odd, but she and the girls had been accepted by Rolf and Meredith like family. And yet they were not. Their only link with this Rosestead family was through Joe, whose connection with them was tenuous, to say the least.
She and Meredith glanced over to the side, where Rolf and Joe were talking seriously with each other. Whether Maggie and her daughters ever returned to Rosestead would depend on whether Joe stayed with her. And that was not a given, by any means.
Maggie had seen a different side of Joe here in the village. He was in his element, wearing Viking clothing, speaking Old Norse, teaching swordplay to the young men, playing thinking board games like hnefatafl, arm wrestling with his brother, engaging in footraces and horse races, drinking honeyed mead from a hand-carved horn, helping to chisel with an adz in Roll's ship-building shop, chopping firewood like a demon, talking of his other life... a life Maggie could not understand, let alone share.
Deep down, Maggie sensed that Joe wanted to go back to his own time. Oh, his brother had managed to adapt to this modern life, but he had a skill—building ships—that was still valued today. What would Joe do if he stayed? Really, what kind of demand was there for a man who wielded a wicked sword? How long would it be before his self-esteem as a man began to slip? Would he become half a man... like his friend Steve?
