Page 24 of The Very Virile Viking

He gasped. "You cannot mean that you throw the dirty linens in the midden after every use? Surely you do not practice such waste in this country."

"I have a suggestion, Magnus. Let's not talk."

The new World's Greatest Marvel: Wall-Market…

A short time later they were in the market building, a structure so large that hundreds of people were able to bustle about its numerous aisles.

Angela had tried to talk him into staying inside the van and waiting for her, but he had refused adamantly.

There was no way he was letting her out of his sight, especially in light of her rampant hostility. She did not recognize yet that she was his destiny. He needed more time to convince her.

Angela was steering a metal cart with Lida strapped into a special baby seat. He was steering a second cart with Hamr sitting in the body of the cart, his arms wrapped around his bent knees, scowling fiercely at him. Torolf had an equally scowling Njal in his cart. Kirsten pushed Kolbein and Jogeir. Storvald and Dagny were permitted to walk on their own, with strict orders to stay next to the carts.

"First things first," Angela said once they had all passed the wall-market greeter, who shook each and every one of their hands—something Magnus now recognized as a gesture of greeting in this country.

"We've got to change this baby before they have to fumigate the store."

As she led their entourage of carts skillfully through the aisles—a difficult job when his children kept ooh ing and aah ing over every blessed thing they saw.

"Have you had much experience with babies?" he inquired casually. "Do you have any of your own?"

She laughed and grabbed a box off one of the shelves. It was a toddler-size box of Pampers.

Apparently Lida was a toddler. "No, I've never had a child of my own, but one of my officemates brings her little girl into the office sometimes. Believe me, changing a diaper requires no particular talent." Next she put a package of wet cloths in the cart, along with a sweetly scented powder made especially for babies. Kirsten and Dagny were equally fascinated by the adjoining shelves, where products were sold that specifically handled the problem of what to do about a female's monthly flux… as if a rag would not suffice. Kolbein was exclaiming over something called "soap on a rope."

Then Angela steered them all toward a "ladies room," where females went to relieve themselves. Like a privy it was, but indoors. More like a garderobe, he supposed. There was a "men's room," too. Amazing, really, that people had to have such facilities even when they were marketing.

"Stay right there," Angela ordered, pointing a finger first at him, then at each of his children in turn.

"Anyone moves and I'm out of here. You're on your own."

M'lady, if you knew what it does to me when you talk fiercely like that, you would be shocked.

Bloody hell, it shocks me. "Whatever you say, sweetling," he agreed, trying to be pleasant in the face of her… unpleasantness.

All he got for his pleasantness was a scowl.

"You really need to work on your expertise, Father," Torolf said.

"I want one of those mirrors we passed, Father. And a comb," Kirsten said. "No one told me my hair was such a tangle."

"That is all you need, daughter, more boosts to your vanity."

"I want a bottle of bubbles for my bath, Father. 'Lavender Garden,' " Dagny said.

"You will attract every bee in sight."

"I want some new carving knives, Father," Storvald said.

"Better that you get your first sword and start practicing to be a warrior."

"I want a bye-sigh-call," Jogeir said. "Then I will be able to move as fast as the other children."

"You move fast enough, boy."

"I want some boxing gloves, Father," Njal said.

"I would like to box something on you, boy. Like your ears."