Page 100 of Truly, Madly Viking

but suspected that Mag-he would not appreciate that title. Then, "Mag-he, this is my little brother, Rolf."

"Little?" Rolf scoffed.

"Younger, then."

"The brother you were searching for?" Mag-he asked.

"Yea, the very one. Isn't it wonderful?"

"More than wonderful," Mag-he said softly, and he knew they had much to discuss, later, about the implications of this reunion.

Then Roll introduced his wife, Profess-whore Merrydeath Ericsson, his son Foster, and his new

daughter, Rose. A wife? What an amazing happenstance!

Methought Rolf would never wed again. Methought he liked his freedom too much. "A profess-whore?"

Jorund asked with a grin.

"A dock-whore?" Rolf asked with a grin.

The two ladies shook their heads at each other, as if their men were hopeless youths.

"Seems to me there are way too many whores in this country," Jorund quipped, and Mag-he elbowed him in the ribs.

Despite his attempt at mirth, Jorund was puzzled. How could Rolf have left Norway one year ago, in 997, and already have two children? It was all so confusing. Perhaps the time portals where they had entered were just different... years could be gained or lost in the passing. Perhaps he could have even left after Roll, but arrived before him.

It was enough to muddle the brain, if his weren't already muddled.

The women and children were all shivering in the cold. Rolf motioned for everyone behind them to go on home and invited the rest of them to come inside.

With his arm looped over Jorund's shoulder, Rolf said, "I have been praying for a sign from the past."

Jorund arched an eyebrow at him. "You? Praying?" Then, "Hell and Valhalla! I am your sign?"

"Yea." His brother nodded. "Finally, someone I can best in swordplay."

"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.