A Prince of Norway: Nicolas & Sydney: Book 2 (The Hansen Series - Nicolas & Sydney)

by Kris Tualla

  “Stefan, can you bring your pastels?” Nicolas asked. Stefan was back in a moment. Nicolas read the description of colors and Sydney colored the newspaper. The final choice was a blue sideways cross outlined in white on a red background.

  “That is almost like your drawing, boys!” Nicolas exclaimed. Stefan punched Leif’s arm, and Leif mussed Stefan’s hair, grinning.

  Nicolas handed Stefan the pastels to put away. “Is the lesson done? We need to pick up Leif’s clothes.” Sydney nodded to Leif, encouraging him to speak.

  “I am learn English. My name is Leif. I work for Nicolas Hansen.” His smile split his face. Nicolas smiled back and realized with a start that they had not discussed his surname.

  “Very good, Leif.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Are you ready to come with me?” he tried.

  Leif frowned, concentrating, “I come with you. Sir.” His eyebrows lifted in question.

  “Yes! Good. Let’s go,” Nicolas motioned toward the door. “To get your clothes. Fao din klær.”

  “Oh! Yes, sir.” Leif crossed the room and Nicolas followed him into the hall.

  As they walked the quiet London side street, Nicolas broached the surname subject. He spoke in Norse to assure himself that Leif understood.

  “Have you ever been called anything besides Leif?” he began.

  “What do you mean?” The young teenager matched his stride with Nicolas’s. Nicolas took smaller steps so the boy didn’t hurt himself.

  “Have you a surname that I am not aware of?”

  Leif shook his head. “When Sebastian Fredericksen married my mother, I was to be Leif Sebastiansen. But he died before he got around to it.” Leif shrugged. “I guess he was a real busy man.”

  “Hm,” Nicolas hummed his empathy. “If you could choose today, what surname would you choose?”

  “Can I?” Leif stopped walking. His pubescent voice hopped octaves in excitement. “Choose, I mean?”

  Nicolas swung around to face him. “I believe so.”

  Leif’s brows dipped. He chewed the inside of one cheek. He looked up at Nicolas, his head tilted to the side. “What is your whole name?”

  “Nicolas Reidar Hansen.”

  “Where did you get Reidar?”

  “It was my father’s name.”

  Leif rested his hands on his hips, confused. “Why aren’t you Nicolas Reidarsen?”

  “Ah! Because in America, we don’t do that. The father’s surname became the whole family’s surname. My mother and father were both born in America, and followed the new tradition.”

  “Oh,” Leif sighed and chewed the opposite cheek. “So I can be Leif Sebastian, like you are Nicolas Reidar?”

  “The names do fit well together,” Nicolas spoke slowly. “But you still need a surname.”

  Leif’s face turned bright red. “I thought—” He tangled his fingers.

  “Thought what?”

  “That I could be, I mean, if I can choose anything? Like you said, Sir? I really can?”

  Nicolas nodded. “Yes. Within reason. What is on your mind?”

  Leif whispered, “Hansen.”

  Nicolas leaned back. “Hansen? You want to be Leif Sebastian Hansen?”

  Leif nodded, staring at the ground. Nicolas had to strain to hear him. “More than anything, Sir.”

  Nicolas’s eyes stung and he swallowed a very large lump that threatened to choke him. He rested a huge hand on the boy’s doorknob of a shoulder. “Then it shall be so. From this day forward, you shall be known as Leif Sebastian Hansen.”

  One brown eye appeared under a flop of ash-blond hair. “Truly?”

  “Truly. You are, after all, my relation. My mother and your father were first cousins, were they not? When I introduce you in America as my cousin, no one will question the name!” Nicolas grinned.

  Leif threw his arms around Nicolas and pressed his face against his chest. Nicolas felt his shirt moisten as he patted the boy’s back. “Thank you, Sir.” His muffled voice hopped octaves again. “I swear you will never regret this. I will bring honor to the Hansen name, Sir, or die trying!”

  “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that!” Nicolas laughed and unwrapped the boy. “Let’s begin that process by seeing you dressed respectably, eh?”

  Leif nodded and fell into step with Nicolas once again. And he never stopped smiling.

  June 17, 1821

  Shipboard

  London to Baltimore

  Four weeks passed and the ship strove forward at a steady pace for most of that time. For the second day, however, she stood still, her sails limp.

  Sydney blotted her neck with a damp cloth while Stefan and Leif took turns reading out loud. They sat on deck, in the shade of an otherwise unoccupied sail. Nicolas carried Kirstie on his shoulders and wandered the deck in fruitless search of a breeze. Sydney sighed and looked at the hazy horizon. It was impossible to tell where the silvery blue water ended and the pale blue sky began. She had the sensation of being trapped inside a glass globe, waiting until a curious hand shook them from their lethargy.

  Sydney turned back to her pupils and realized they had, at some point, stopped reading. They faced her, bodies drooping.

  “Can we be done, Mamma?” Stefan pleaded.

  Sydney’s wry smile was enough of an answer. The boys closed their books.

  “Put them away in your cabins,” she admonished. “We shall try again after supper.”

  She watched them amble off, struck by how different they were. Stefan was tall and solid, like his six-four, two hundred and fifty-pound father. Five years older, Leif was slight, though he was finally putting on some weight, and only half-a-foot taller. Sydney wondered if he would grow more, now that he was getting regular meals.

  “What are you thinking about?” Nicolas sat next to her and set Kirstie on the deck. “You seem as far away as the wind.”

  “Those boys.” She pointed with her chin at their disappearing backs. “They are so different.”

  “That they are.” Nicolas played pat-a-cake with Kirstie. “How is their schooling coming?”

  “Stefan is Stefan. Bright but lazy. I expect it’s good that he needs to help Leif, because it forces him to know the lessons.”

  “And Leif?”

  “Leif is doing well with his English. His writing is illegible thus far. But the boy is brilliant in arithmetic.”

  “Really?” Nicolas looked at her then. His navy blue eyes were cool pools. Sydney wished she could swim in them.

  “He memorized his facts in less than a week, and understands and solves every problem I can conceive.”

  “Would you like me to take over that portion of his tutoring?” Nicolas offered. “I did study engineering, you might recall.”

  “Would you? That would be very helpful.” Sydney rested her head against Nicolas’s shoulder. “How much longer will we be stalled, do you think?”

  “It’s impossible to know.”

  Kirstie dropped to her bottom on the deck and yawned, rubbing her eyes.

  Sydney lifted her daughter, who dropped her head on Sydney’s shoulder and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Sydney patted Kirstie’s back. “I’ll go put her down for her nap.”

  Once Kirstie was settled, Sydney returned to the deck. She found a likely spot and sat down to read. Nicolas stretched out and rested his head in her lap. She combed her fingers absently through his hair and smiled when he began to snore.

  Was that a breeze? Sydney lifted her chin and sniffed. There was a difference in the air. She noticed the horizon had solidified.

  Nicolas wiggled his head, and his chest expanded with a huge sigh. He snored again.

  Sydney brushed a dancing strand of hair behind her ear; that was a breeze! She heard the crack of canvas and looked up. The sail bulged, drooped, then bulged again. She felt the ship shift under her, like a tethered horse eager to run.

  “Nicolas?” she shook his shoulder.

  “Hmm?”

  �
��I think we have some wind.”

  The water looked strange. Around them it was pale silk, but a dark, scudded shadow approached, though the sky was cloudless.

  Nicolas sat up and ran his hands through his hair. “What?”

  “Wind! Feel it?” Sydney stood. Her shirt flattened against her chest. She threw her arms wide as the shadow reached them.

  The sails snapped to attention and the ship rocked forward. Crewman began shouting and scaling the masts. Sails raised, lowered and swung to new angles as the ship nosed south of the afternoon sun. The ship strained against the freshened waves, slapping them away and jumping over them.

  Leif rounded the corner. “Sir! Ma’am! We move!” He did a little jig. Stefan followed. Laughing, he imitated Leif’s dance. Nicolas pulled to his feet and joined them. Sydney clapped her hands as the three males wiggled and kicked in a spontaneous celebration.

  “It shouldn’t be long now!” Nicolas shouted. “America, here we come!”

  Chapter Thirty Three

  June 24, 1821

  Baltimore

  The first thing Nicolas did when they reached Baltimore was send a messenger to Gunnar stating they had returned from Norway, and would be in Philadelphia three days hence.

  The second thing he did, was ask Sydney to pick a statue.

  She cast a jaundiced eye at the carved pieces, now garishly re-painted.

  “Truthfully, I have no preference. They both are hideous.”

  “Can we have the dragon?” Stefan hopped on one foot. “Please, Pappa?”

  “And give Gunnar the mermaid?” Nicolas looked at Sydney for confirmation.

  “And ask his forgiveness afterwards?” Sydney chuckled and shook her head. “If Stefan wants the dragon, then the dragon it is!”

  Stefan punched Leif and grinned.

  “You keep sea dragon from longship?” Leif asked, eyes hopeful.

  “Yes!” Stefan giggled. “We can fight it and practice with our swords!” He mimed several thrusts.

  Leif’s eyes twinkled. “Dragon win.”

  Stefan froze and his jaw dropped. “What’d you say?”

  “I say ‘dragon win’!” Leif curled against Stefan’s raining fists, belly laughs punctuating the ineffectual blows.

  “Boys!” Nicolas barked. “Lend a hand, eh?”

  June 27, 1821

  Philadelphia

  Gunnar was outside the house, pacing in the shade of the portico when Nicolas turned into the long drive. He waved both arms and trotted toward them. Nicolas stopped the wagon and jumped down, and embraced his brother in one smooth move. The men pounded each other’s backs, laughing. Leif’s eyes widened when he saw Gunnar, even taller than Nicolas.

  “Marriage suits you.” Nicolas smacked Gunnar’s belly with the back of his hand. “You are growing yet.”

  Gunnar blushed, and sideswiped Nick’s head.

  “More than you know,” he teased. “I have news.”

  “As have I!” Nicolas rested his fists on his hips; his smile could not get bigger.

  Sydney joined the men. “I believe I have guessed your news, Gunnar.” She nodded toward the house.

  Brigid stood in the doorway, one hand on the jamb and one on the small of her back. She was hugely pregnant.

  Nicolas smacked Gunnar again.

  “You are to be a father!” he bellowed. “I cannot believe it!”

  “Believe it!” Gunnar laughed. “And the babe is overdue.”

  “Sydney is a midwife, now.” Nicolas’s pride was evident. “She gained that skill in Christiania!”

  “I believe that I am safe in saying, that Brigid would be pleased to make use of your skills this very day.” Gunnar grinned at his wife.

  She smiled and waved. Gunnar waved back.

  Stefan climbed down from the wagon, but Leif hung back, suddenly shy in the boisterous company of these big men.

  Gunnar shook his nephew’s shoulder.

  “Surely this cannot be Stefan! Why I believe you have grown a foot since I saw you last!”

  Stefan looked down, then squinted up at his uncle. “I didn’t grow any more feet. Uncle Gunnar, you’re funny!”

  Gunnar’s explosion of mirth was deafening.

  “And who might this be?” He nodded toward Leif.

  “This,” Nicolas turned and motioned for Leif to join them, “is our cousin, Leif Sebastian. He has come from Christiania to work on my estate.”

  Leif came to stand by Nicolas.

  “And,” Nicolas continued, “I have given him use of the name Hansen to ease his transition.”

  Gunnar held out his hand. “Hello, cousin.”

  “Hello.” Leif shook it. “Mister Hansen.”

  “Call me Gunnar, seeing as how we are related, and you a man of the world. How old are you?”

  “I am thirteen.”

  “Nearly grown!” Gunnar nodded. “Welcome to America.”

  “Thank you.” Leif bobbed his head.

  “Leif has been learning English on our journey.” Nicolas patted his shoulder. “And he is doing very well.”

  “Well, come in and have something to eat! How long will you bide?” Gunnar led them up the steps to his very patient and swollen bride.

  “Only a day or two.” Nicolas looked to Sydney. “We are eager to get home.”

  “I can understand that, but perhaps we can persuade you to extend your visit a bit.” Gunnar slid his hand around Brigid’s non-existent waist.

  “Well, I do have much to tell you.” Nicolas glanced at the wagon. “And I brought you a gift.”

  “Did you then?” Gunnar’s eyes twinkled. “We shall have to see about that presently!”

  “Not until they have had a chance to wash up and have supper!” Brigid stated. “Show everyone to their rooms and I will check on the meal.”

  “Aye-aye, Cap’n!” Gunnar saluted his wife, and then kissed her soundly. She turned to the hall and swayed in the direction of the kitchen.

  Sydney winked at Gunnar. “She looks as though the babe is about to fall out.”

  “Your mouth to God’s ears!” he grunted, lifting a trunk.

  ***

  Nicolas pushed back from the dinner table and scratched his belly, “That was the best roasted beef that I have had in—well, I cannot recall!”

  “Thank you.” Brigid blushed.

  He clapped his palms together. “Now, then. Would you care to finally see what we brought you from Norway?”

  The four adults went out to the portico where the wagon still stood. Nicolas pulled back a tarp, revealing the antique mermaid, lying on her side.

  “Oh, Nicolas. You should not have. Really.” Brigid looked puzzled. “What is it, exactly?”

  “It is a figurehead from a Viking longship. It’s hundreds of years old!” Nicolas beamed.

  “Is it, then?” Gunnar walked around the wagon. “And you lugged it all the way from Norway? Just for us?”

  “That I did!”

  Gunnar paused and stared at his brother. “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yes, why. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen!” Gunnar began to snicker.

  “And heavy, too!” Nicolas’s mouth curved at the corners. “Enough to break a man!”

  Gunnar shook his head. “Whatever possessed you?”

  “I asked him that myself, many times!” Sydney interjected.

  “Did you receive an answer?” Brigid grinned in spite of herself.

  “No!”

  Nicolas looked like a cat that had feasted on a flock of canaries. “Have you an axe, Gunn?”

  “An axe? Yes, of course.”

  “Fetch it.”

  “Nicolas, don’t tell me that after all this time and effort, you plan to destroy this thing?” Sydney cried, incredulous.

  Nicolas gave nothing away. He waited in silence, rocking on his heels, until Gunnar returned with the requested implement.

  Nicolas hefted the axe. “Now, all of you, be prepared to rescind every one of your unc
haritable thoughts!”

  He swung it at the base of the statue. He jerked it out of the cleft and swung it again. On the third swing, the base gave way, caving inward. He flipped the axe over and used the other end of the blade to pry the bottom off the carving.

  The glint of gold caught everyone’s eye.

  “No!” Sydney stared at Nicolas. “There isn’t—is there?”

  Nicolas cackled as he reached inside and pulled out a handful of gold coins. “Brother, have I got a story to tell you!”

  Gunnar turned pale and sat down, hard, on the steps to the house. “Where did you—how much is—oh, Lord!”

  Sydney pushed his head down between his knees. “Are you all right?”

  Gunnar lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at Nicolas. “How much?”

  “Just shy of twenty-six thousand dollars.”

  Gunnar grew white as rice. “I believe I may lose my supper.”

  Sydney grabbed Nicolas’s arm, realization dawning. “And the dragon?”

  “The same.” Nicolas could not contain his glee. “I sold the family lands in Rollag.”

  Gunnar stared at his older sibling. “Why did you do that?”

  “You spoke the truth, Gunn. I did nothing to deserve this. It was the luck of my birth.” Nicolas shook his brother’s shoulder. “It’s yours as much as mine.”

  Sydney wasn’t sure if she was more angry or thrilled. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

  Nicolas waved his hands. “I’ll tell you all everything from the beginning. But first, let’s put this in a safer place, shall we?”

  The gold was retrieved from the statue, packed into two heavy satchels and stowed under Gunnar’s bed. Once the children were settled in for the night, Nicolas began his tale.

  “When we arrived in Christiania, I went to see my land. It was as it always had been: beautiful, but underutilized. So I instructed the land agent to re-draw the plots and doubled the number of leases.”

  “Thereby doubling the value!” Gunnar slapped his thigh.

  Nicolas bounced a nod. “Once all the leases were signed, I visited with the brother of an old friend. Matias Ivarsen.”