An Unexpected Viking: Sveyn & Hollis: Part One (The Hansen Series - Sveyn & Hollis Book 1)

by Kris Tualla

  “Hoarding is an obsessive compulsion,” she explained to Miranda and Stevie after they discovered the first bits of paperwork. “So it makes sense that Ezra would want to log precise information about each of his acquisitions.”

  “I bet he knew exactly what items he owned, too,” Stevie opined.

  “He would have at first,” Hollis agreed. “But he was a hundred-and-five when he died, and he collected since he was fifteen.”

  “Ninety years to fill that house. I’ve only been in mine for six.” Miranda shook her head, her next statement proving where her thoughts had wandered. “I think I’ll have a garage sale.”

  “I would guess we’re getting to a lot of Nordic items.” Hollis looked at Sveyn. “Right?”

  “Yes.” He pointed. “Open that box.”

  Hollis complied. She pulled out a piece of wood that resembled a knife blade, and something else that she thought she recognized. “Is this a sun dial?”

  “What is a sun dial?”

  “It tells time, based on the angle of the sun.”

  The Viking gave a little shrug and pointed at the wooden pieces. “This is a twilight board. And with this shadow stick, it tells which direction north is, based on the angle of the sun.”

  Hollis looked at him. “In place of a compass?”

  “We did not have a compass. And the sun moves differently in the far north.”

  Hollis knew that. She had experienced a marked difference in the sun’s seasonable swings between her grandparents’ home in Sparta, Wisconsin, and her temporary one here in Phoenix, Arizona.

  “How do you use this?”

  One corner of Sveyn’s mouth lifted. “With a sun stone.”

  Hollis’s jaw dropped. “Is that what’s in here?”

  Sveyn’s smile widened. “Keep looking.”

  Under the wooden dial was a soft leather pouch. Hollis lifted it out, loosened the strings, and dumped the rectangular crystal into her palm. The translucent stone was about two inches by one-and-a-half inches and less than an inch thick.

  Angled grooves were etched in the flat sides. “What are these for?”

  “You look through the stone and you see both slits—do you not?” Sveyn asked. “And one looks darker than the other?”

  “Yes.”

  “And as you tilt it, the darkness changes from one to the other?”

  Hollis moved the stone, and he was right. “What now?”

  “When the two slits match, you note the direction that you are facing, and the angle. Then you would go to the opposite end of the ship, and do it again.” Sveyn moved his arms to illustrate his words. “The point where the two lines meet is north.”

  “What is this crystal?” Hollis turned the stone over, wondering whose hands had held it so many hundreds of years ago.

  “Calcite.” Sveyn moved his hand through the stone; his desire to touch it was palpable. “There is a deep calcite mine in Norway.”

  Hollis looked up into his eyes. “Could this stone have been yours?”

  He shook his head. “Mine had a slightly different shape. But this is very close.”

  “Well, this item will certainly go on the website.” Hollis put the stone back in the leather pouch, and then carried the pieces into the next room to show them off.

  “A real Viking sunstone? How do you know?” Stevie held up the crystal and looked through it.

  “They found one off the southern coast of England,” one of the interns said. “By the ruins of a ship. Vikings did travel that far south. Normandy in France is named after the north men. In fact, the Vikings attacked Paris.” When everyone looked at him, he added, “Twice.”

  Hollis risked a glance in Sveyn’s direction.

  He guessed her unspoken question. “Two hundred years before I was born.”

  She heaved a sigh of relief.

  “What else did you find?” Stevie asked.

  “Nothing else of note as yet, but it seems that Ezra had quite a Nordic fixation at one time. Or a Viking one.” Hollis pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “There is quite a lot there.”

  Stevie’s shoulders slumped. “You are having more luck than we are, I’m afraid.”

  Hollis gave her a sympathetic look, though she doubted Stevie could see it beyond her protective mask and goggles. “No more Jane Austen?”

  “No. Not yet. But the day has only begun.” Stevie adjusted her mask. “You just got lucky.”

  The intern who knew about the sunstone stepped forward. “Ms. McKenna, would you like some help?”

  Hollis hesitated, trying to think of a logical reason to say no. Claiming that a Viking apparition was guiding her was probably not going to fly.

  “I’m only doing preliminary work, Tom. I’m sure Ms. Phillips would rather have you helping in here.”

  “No, go ahead.” Stevie waved her hand. “We three have this. And the sooner we get more done, the sooner we get it all done.”

  Hollis chuckled. “How, um, eloquent.”

  Stevie looked up at her. “For your information, I just stuck my tongue out at you. Now leave, take Tom with you, and stop slowing the rest of us down.”

  Hollis turned toward the door and shot a warning glance at a grinning Sveyn. “I have to warn you, Tom. Sometimes I talk to myself out loud.”

  “Or all the time.” Stevie’s voice trailed after her.

  Hollis cleared her throat. “Anyway, if I’m talking to you, you’ll know it. Otherwise, please just ignore me.”

  He nodded respectfully. “Yes, Ms. McKenna.”

  Hollis stopped inside the door. “Where next?”

  Sveyn pointed at the box under the one which held the sunstone. “I was so excited when I saw the stone, I did not look deeper. Why not continue where you were?”

  “Where should Tom start?”

  Sveyn turned slowly. “Have him start at the other end of the row and work toward you. I didn’t see much important there.”

  Hollis pointed to the opposite wall. “Why don’t you start down there, and then we can work towards each other.”

  “Yes ma’am.” The twenty-something brunet made his way to the other end of the stack, picking his way around boxes and crates.

  Hollis looked at Sveyn. “Let’s see what we see.”

  As she opened boxes and unwrapped item after item, Sveyn made comments about the notes Ezra left behind. Hollis wrote down what Sveyn told her—either correcting or enhancing the old man’s information.

  “Of course, I’ll need to corroborate all of this with my own research. I can’t just claim that whatever I say is true,” she said softly.

  “Maybe no one else knows these things,” Sveyn posited. “And then you will become the famous collector who makes new discoveries.”

  Hollis grinned. “And the pay raise will be astronomical.”

  Sveyn’s expression brightened. “Will it?”

  “No.”

  His face fell. “Oh.”

  Hollis lifted a small wooden box from a crate. It was beautifully painted in a traditional Norwegian design.

  “Rosemaling,” Sveyn said. “It became popular in Norway in the mid-eighteenth century.”

  “It’s lovely.” Hollis opened the lid. The itemized receipt on top was from a jewelry shop in Oslo, and dated September of nineteen sixty-two. “Let’s see what Ezra bought.”

  Beneath the receipt were several rings, pendants, and brooches. Most were silver and badly tarnished with age.

  “Once we polish these up, they will be beautiful,” Hollis said. “But I don’t know if they will all be display-worthy.”

  “Can you sell them?” Sveyn asked.

  She nodded. “We can sell them in a public auction. But all of the proceeds must be applied to maintaining the collection.”

  “That is something, is it not?”

  “Yes. It is.” Hollis lifted a large heavy ring. “Look at this. This is unique.”

  A heavy Nordic-carved silver and gold ring, its recesses blackened with soot, rested in h
er hand. Sveyn stared at it like he was seeing a ghost which, considering his own plight, was saying something quite significant.

  He reached out his hand, but of course his fingers passed through the ring just as they had through the sunstone. He formed them into a fist.

  “My God…”

  “What? What is it?” When he didn’t answer—or even look at her—she asked again, careful not to say his name. “What is special about this?”

  “The combination of gold and silver, with the oxidation to make the carved-out areas black,” Tom answered the question she asked Sveyn. He held out his latex-gloved hand. “May I see it?”

  Hollis handed the ring to the intern, her concerned gaze moving back to Sveyn’s. His gaze remained fixed on the ring. His expression was so stunned, so poignant, that Hollis thought he’d shed tears if he was capable.

  The Viking lifted his eyes to hers. “That is my father’s ring. It belonged to his father.”

  Hollis gasped. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yes.” Tom nodded. “This is an excellent example of early experimentation by the Vikings, combining the precious metals, which were spoils of their raids.”

  Hollis turned to the intern. “What century are we talking about?”

  Both men answered at the same time, though only one voice was heard in the room. “Around the turn of the millennium.”

  “The last one,” Tom clarified.

  Hollis shot him a well, duh look. The intern blushed around his mask.

  “Let’s put this away, now.” She held out her hand and Tom placed the heavy ring in it. She slid her gaze to Sveyn’s, who still appeared gobsmacked. “This ring is unique enough that we might be able to discern its owner.”

  Sveyn’s eyes were still fixed on the ring. “That ring was made by Lågnar Hansen. He lived in the family stronghold in Arendal, on a bluff west of the village.”

  Tom nodded. “That would be awesome.”

  Hollis sucked a deep breath. “Okay. Back to work.”

  Sveyn had gone quiet. He was standing in the hallway, leaning on the wall, and stroking his short beard.

  “It would be interesting to see if anyone currently living recognizes that ring,” she said, ostensibly to Tom. “It is possible, you know.”

  Tom shot her a skeptical look which indicated that someone who was that old could not still be functional. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Hollis rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’ll add it to the list of items we post online. You never know.”

  Stevie appeared at the door. “Time for lunch, boss?”

  Hollis looked at her watch out of habit, but of course it was covered by her jumpsuit and gloves. “Sure. I’ll just finish going through this crate first.”

  “Okay. See you outside.” Stevie disappeared.

  “Can I—”

  “Yes.” Hollis interrupted the intern, smiling at him with her eyes. “Go on. I just want to… What the heck is this?”

  Chapter Eight

  Hollis held up a strange object, about twelve inches by six inches, and made of metal and wood. The metal parts were stuck through the wood in ways that should not be possible, and yet, there they were.

  Sveyn was at her side in an instant. “Is the other half there?”

  “There’s another half?” Hollis set the thing aside and lifted the last piece of packing paper. “No. Not in this crate.”

  Sveyn’s features twisted. “Then he must not have it.”

  Hollis realized Tom was still in the room. She stepped away from the crate. “Whatever it is, it can wait until after lunch.”

  Hollis led Tom outside, twisting her way between stacked and dusty boxes. She peeled off her protective gear and ate her lunch quickly. Curiosity over what Sveyn knew about the odd discovery pushed her forward, so she chewed more than she talked.

  If the Viking didn’t look so concerned, she might blow it off. But the speed at which he appeared beside her, setting aside his own shock at seeing something so personal to his own life, was a definite clue about the importance of the mystery item.

  Hollis stuffed her trash into her insulated Arizona History and Cultural Center souvenir lunch bag and Velcroed it closed. Then she pulled her phone from her back pocket, to use in the same way Sveyn had urged her to at their first meeting.

  “I have to make a call.” Hollis gave Sveyn a significant look before she walked away from the group.

  He followed.

  Once she was far enough away that her conversation could not be understood, she pressed the phone to her ear. “So tell me what we found.”

  Sveyn looked at the black screen on her phone and flashed an appreciative grin. “You are using my suggested ruse, I see.”

  “It works.” Hollis turned her back on Stevie and the interns. “Talk to me.”

  “That thing you found is one half of a powerful icon,” he began. “The complete design is a mix of ancient runes and other Nordic symbols.”

  “So there is another half somewhere?”

  Sveyn gestured with clawed hands. “The two halves lock together, like an evil puzzle.”

  “Have you seen them together?”

  Sveyn’s eyes widened. “No. Thank God. I have only seen a drawing.”

  That was odd. “What makes this icon so powerful?”

  “If a man—or woman, I suppose—possesses but one half, that half will drive him or her insane.”

  Hollis would have laughed if Sveyn didn’t look so intently serious. “And you believe this?”

  “I am telling you what I know is said about that… thing.” Sveyn shrugged. “I cannot prove it to be true. But I have no wish to test it.”

  “Huh.” Hollis cast a look over her shoulder toward the Kensington house. “Well… Ezra was an obsessive compulsive hoarder who always lived alone.”

  Sveyn lifted one brow in a very annoying I-told-you-so sort of way.

  Hollis chose to ignore that. “So what happens if that man or woman possesses both halves?”

  “If he, or she, can successfully join the two pieces by figuring out how to lock them together the right way—” Sveyn moved his hands as if he was screwing the halves together. “Then that person will become immortal.”

  Hollis’s jaw dropped. “Immortal.”

  “That means they will live on earth forever.” Sveyn frowned. “They cannot be killed.”

  “I know what immortal means.” Hollis laughed out loud, surprised to see that Sveyn believed the myth. “You can’t be serious.”

  Sveyn spread his hands. “I am only telling you what everyone claims about this piece.”

  Hollis tilted her head. “And where does everyone say this piece came from?”

  Sveyn folded his arms over his chest. “The sons of God made it.”

  “The sons of God?” Hollis frowned. “Who are they?”

  “Thor. Odin. Zeus. Apollo. I think you have heard of them.”

  Hollis scoffed. “But they aren’t real!”

  Sveyn shrugged. “The sons of God are mentioned in the Bible—many times. You should look it up.”

  Hollis stared at the Viking; it was her turn to be gobsmacked. The truth of what he was claiming was hard to dispute, since she was having a conversation with a man who died nearly a thousand years ago.

  No. He didn’t die.

  He’s stuck between.

  Hollis needed to sit down, but there wasn’t a clean place to do so. She gave up and sank into the dead grass and weeds. Somehow she retained enough presence of mind to keep her phone to her ear.

  “There are two things going on here,” she stated. “First, the belief that this icon was made by some otherworldly beings.”

  Sveyn squatted in front of her. “They can move between heaven and earth, but yes.”

  Hollis looked into Sveyn’s eyes. “And that this icon, once the two halves are joined, grants the owner earthly immortality.”

  “That is the legend.”

  “Do you think Ezra knew that?”

  Sveyn shr
ugged again. “There is no way to know that, is there?”

  “His notes!” Hollis scrambled to her feet. “He leaves notes with the things he collects.”

  Jamming her phone back into her pocket, Hollis strode to the museum van to get a clean set of protective gear.

  “Is everything alright?” Stevie called out to her. “I saw you sit down suddenly.”

  “Yes.” Hollis stepped into her disposable jumpsuit. “My grandfather took a minor fall but he’s fine.” She pulled on the gloves and rolled her eyes. “My mother. So dramatic all the time.”

  “Mothers are like that,” Stevie concurred, crumpling her paper lunch bag. “I guess that’s our cue, gentleman. Back to work.”

  Hollis practically ran to the larger bedroom—as much as one could run between a hoarder’s stacks of innumerable treasures. She dug through the packing material in the crate until she found a yellowed paper, the neat handwriting on which she had grown very familiar with.

  “He knew the story,” she said to Sveyn as he sauntered into the room after her. “But he didn’t believe it.”

  “Is that what the paper says?”

  Hollis nodded. “He wrote that he wished it was true, because he was already fifty-two years old, and felt like he was only beginning his life.”

  “But he lived to be one-hundred-and five. That is plenty long enough.” Sveyn wagged his head. “Immortality on earth is not a desirable condition. You can place your trust my words on this particular subject.”

  Hollis lowered the document, her heart aching for Sveyn. “Is there no hope for you?”

  His shoulders slumped. “I do not know in what form that hope could be.”

  She frowned. “You cannot be the first person who was caught this way. We should research that.”

  Sveyn gave a sardonic laugh. “Enoch and Elijah did not die, but they were taken straight to Heaven. I, however, was not so blessed.”

  Hollis moved toward the Viking and nearly ran into Tom as he entered the room.

  “Oh, good—there you are.” She straightened her goggles and adjusted her mask. “What have you found?”

  *****

  Hollis laid out her deli meal on a plate—salmon with extra lemon sauce and a side of roasted broccoli—before telling Sveyn what she had done. “I brought something home today.”