Page 16 of The Very Virile Viking

Magnus took one step backward. What now? Did Dare-All want him to hand Lida over to him? That hardly seemed likely after his grimace at her odor. Ha ! It must be his sword. "I am not handing over Head Lopper. So just forget about that."

"Head… Head Lopper?" Dare-All stammered.

"My sword."

Dare-All turned rather green again, but then he regained his composure with a nervous laugh. "You seem almost like a real Viking. I swear, if this is acting, you've got a job. What's your name, by the way? Are you union?"

"My name is Magnus… Magnus Ericsson," he revealed, but said no more. 'Twas best not to give the enemy—or potential enemy—too much information.

"Are you from LA.?"

"Ell-aye?" Magnus shook his head slowly. "Nay, I am from the southwestern coast of Norway. Vestfold, to be precise."

"Norway?" Dare-All exclaimed. "My God, you are too good to be true. A pure-blooded Viking, to the bone. Hey, those are some armrings you're wearing, buddy. Look like solid silver, but of course they must be fake. Right? They sure look authentic. Holy shit! And I love those tunics you and your 'sons' are

wearing. Couldn't get Dirk Johansson to wear anything resembling what you've got on. Too plain."

Plain? There is naught plain about me. "Dirk?" His head was starting to hurt from all the questions bumping about inside his brain. That and the sun. "Dirk is a new name, even for a Viking, and we have some of the oddest in the world. Halfdan of the Wide Embrace. Ragnor Hairy-Breeks. Ivan the Ignorant.

But ne'er have I heard of a man named for a knife. Dirk. Hmmm. I like it." Now, why he had decided to home in on the peculiar name, rather than all the other things this strange man had said, was a wonder to Magnus. Probably because his brain was being baked in this hot sun.

"Yeah. Dirk the Jerk. Dirk the Dick. You get it? Ivan the Ignorant. Dirk the Dick. Ha, ha, ha!"

This fellow was acting a bit demented. Magnus wasn't sure he wanted to be associated with him.

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he asked, "What country is this?"

"Are you for real? This is carrying the stunt a bit far, don'tcha think? Oh, well, I'll play along. It's America. Ha, ha, ha!"

"Ah-mare-ee-ca," he sounded out. "Is that anywhere near Vinland?"

"Vinland? Where the hell is Vinland? Oh, you mean that place where the Vikings were supposed to have discovered America about a thousand years ago."

A thousand years ago? Yea, this man is barmy as a bat. "Look, Dare-All, my family and I have been aboard this longship for days. May we board your small boat to go ashore and get our land feet, and perchance refresh ourselves afore departing for other shores? A small repast would be much appreciated, as well. In all truth, I am sick of gammelost and moldy manchet bread."

At first Dare-All appeared confused, but then he brightened. "Sure. Sure thing. Let's all go ashore and get a repast. Ha, ha, ha!"

Dare-All's incessant laughter was beginning to grate on Magnus's nerves. Besides that, he suspected that if he looked up, he would see a five-year-old, soon-to-be-arse-paddled young boy at the top of the mast pole… swinging his father's second-best sword.

In less than an hour they were all ashore, though not without much grumbling and consternation—the latter on his part. Dare-All had balked at the idea of his taking four heavy wooden chests into the small boat. "Why the hell do you need those chests? And how did they get on my longship anyhow?"

"Your longship?" Magnus had asked in an icy voice. "I beg to differ. This is my longship, Fierce Dragon . It was built by my brother Geirolf five years past, and a better ship has never sailed the seas." He deliberately failed to inform the man that the chests contained much treasure, which he intended to use in whatever new land he settled… obviously not this one, which was already settled.

Dare-All had said, "Whatever!" Then he'd quickly added, "But, please, put those freakin' swords away.

There are laws against carrying weapons in public places, you know?"

He and Torolf had sheathed their swords, though they had not understood half of what Dare-All had said. What was a free-can sword? And what weapon laws?

"Let's go up to my office," Dare-All suggested.

Magnus wasn't so sure he wanted to visit any of this man's orifices, but perhaps he'd misunderstood.

Meanwhile, dozens of people were milling about, gaping as if he and his children were freaks of nature, when in fact the onlookers were the odd ones.

Just then he noticed Hamr trying to climb atop one of the horseless vehicles standing at rest by the roadside. He grabbed the child by the scruff of the neck and shook him. "Behave yourself, boy. Do I have to tie you to my other leg, like Kolbein here?"

Hamr looked horrified.