Page 92 of Truly, Madly Viking

"Well, sometimes the things you say are pretty off-the-wall."

"Name one thing."

"That your father is—was—a Viking king."

"Well, he is—was—not really a king... rather a minor king. Actually, his title is jarl, which is similar to the English earl."

Beth skipped from one site to the next, showing him histories of tenth-century Vikings, along with pictures of their longships, jewelry, clothing, and native fjords. Jorund was fascinated. And he was also homesick, just seeing the images of his homeland.

He didn't realize that Mag-he had placed a hand on his shoulder, but she was just as captivated as he was, leaning over him. "Honey, do a search under the Viking histories for Vestfold. And then for Jarl Eric Tryggvason." She squeezed his shoulder. "Isn't that where you said you come... I mean, where your people come from? The southeastern section of Norway?"

He nodded.

Soon Beth had even more detailed information, though she declared that the tenth century was practically the Dark Ages and not much data had been collected in written form. The person who owned this particular Web site, a member of some group called the ess-see-a, claimed there was a man called Jarl Eric Trygvasson, brother to King Olaf Trygvasson. Apparently there was a grave mound in modern-day Norway with his father's name on it in runic symbols, dated the year 999. Beside it on one side was a smaller grave mound commemorating the death of Eric's daughter-by-marriage, Inga, and his two granddaughters, Greta and Girta. Jorund had already seen the latter, but the former... well, it must mean that his father had died one year after he'd last seen him in 998. Had there been aft accident, or had his father fallen in battle?

If that wasn't heartbreaking enough for Jorund, the next screen showed a large stone with runic symbols on it. Before Beth had a chance to read the text for him, Jorund began translating aloud the inscription, "'This stone is dedicated in the year 998 to the memory of my sons, Jarl Geirolf Ericsson and Jarl Jorund Ericsson. They died at sea, brave of heart. May I join them one day in Valhalla.'"

More important, there was a picture there of Jorund's sword, Bloodletter, which had been buffed in the grave. Surely that was a sign that he had returned home, for there was no duplicate of this specially crafted weapon.

Jorund was staggered by this news, and he could tell that Mag-he was, too, by the way she squeezed both his shoulders. Did this mean that he would never return home to his time? Or would he return after his father's death? Wouldn't he have removed the fallacious gravestone, if he had? On the other hand, mayhap he'd been too griefstricken to care. No, the most damning evidence was his sword. He would be returning to his time.

Mag-he leaned down and whispered in his ear, "We'll talk about this later."

"Oooh, oooh, oooh!" Beth exclaimed. "Look at what I found." She'd moved to another Webbing site.

"'Rosestead: A Viking Village.' See. Some guy and his wife built an authentic Viking village in Maine.

And it's a working village, too."

Picture after picture was shown of the inhabitants at work... building longships, operating farms, caring for livestock, weaving textiles, making soaps, crafting jewelry, brewing mead, pattern-welding swords. It was like gazing back in time, and yet all of this was apparently taking place today somewhere in this country. Amazing.

"'Tis odd," he commented tentatively, "but the icon marking each of these pages is identical to my family crest—writhing dragons wrapped around a cross. It represents the Vikings of my father and the Christians of my mother."

"It's probably just a coincidence," Mag-he observed.

"And that longship shown there. 'Tis called Fierce Raven . The ships my brother Rolf built all had the name Fierce in them, like Fierce Destiny , Fierce Pride , Fierce Dragon ."

"That's probably a coincidence, too."

"Yea," he agreed finally. "If people have no compunction about robbing graves, they would not hesitate to steal a family crest or a ship name, as well."

Beth read some more and told them that the village was originally started to preserve the Viking culture, since there was no true Viking country today...

Iceland being more Viking in nature than Norway was. Because Vikings were assimilated into the countries where they conquered or settled, they had no real homeland of their own. In addition, Beth read that Rosestead also served as an orphanage for inner-city homeless kids.

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a place like that for mental patients, like the ones at Rainbow?" Sue zee suggested from behind them, where she was still playing her game. She must have been listening to them and playing at the same time.

Everyone turned with surprise.

She shrugged. "It was, just an idea. Lots of the people at Rainbow aren't dangerous or anything, and look how well some of them are doing, just being around Joe, who's kind of a Viking."

"Who's kind of a Viking?" he protested. "I am most definitely a real Viking."

"Yeah, yeah," Sue-zee said, and went back to concentrating on her game.

"It's an interesting thought," Jorund remarked to Mag-he.

She nodded and appeared to be considering all the possibilities. Not that it was really possible. He would be long gone before any such project could be undertaken. Wouldn't he?