Falling to the Viking (2 page)

Since there was as much foot traffic on the road as there were animals and vehicles, she shouldered her backpack. She lugged her tote, thinking it would be nice if the guy would help, but he just stood, holding the car door. She carefully weaved through the polite traffic, smiling back at all the white teeth in return, and finally reached the vehicle.

With a heavy accent, the man introduced himself. “I am Mikkel. I work for your aunt. I will take you to her home.”

Well, that seemed to be the extent of his talking, because after he got her into the back seat and put her items in the trunk, he did not speak again. She thanked him, but then tried to ask a couple of questions. This all fell on deaf ears as he carefully drove through the slow, mixed traffic until it thinned out as they reached the edge of the small city.

Even though she was very tired, the colors still fascinated her. The buildings and homes were either white or painted with bright colors where the sun reflected bright enough to hurt the eyes. It dawned on her about the clothes that were mostly homemade. Not the dyed-in-a-factory stuff sold at Walmart out of China.

These clothing were strong and durable. The garments were supposed to be repaired carefully, then passed down to the next in line in the family. There was pride to say,
I have my Grammy’s skirt,
or
I own my Uncle’s hat
. It didn’t take many alterations to bring them up to date to meet what everyone saw on the TV. This was what they wore. If it was too old, they worked wore it to work in their gardens. If it was in good shape, they wore it in their shops. True, some industrious citizens wove on their looms in their homes in order to have extra income by selling the additional items.

The buildings were bright colors. Her aunt’s home sat apart. It appeared to be larger than most of the local residences. It sat back against a ridge, with one side overlooking the channel that fed down to the sea. Inside, it was warm and tight. Evidently, generations of Marksonvens had lived here, adding to the size of the home as children were born and more room needed.

Mikkel showed her to a bedroom on the second floor. He told her that dinner would be at seven. Great…he did know some more words. He was gone. She looked at her wristwatch, deciding she had enough time to catch a bath before meeting her last real relative. The bathroom was down the hall. It was somewhat modern in a nice old-fashioned way, with a bathtub on claw-shaped legs along with all the indoor plumbing she required.

She didn’t mind that the cabinets were dark wood to match the floor. The towels might be a bit on the rough side, but they were very large. Beside the dim electric lights were also candles within glass holders that looked like they had been used recently. Okay, maybe the power went out now and then.

When she finally came down for supper, she met Aunt Halla, who did speak English with almost no accent. She was a small, hardy looking woman with a trace of blond within her grey hair. Talking with her was a different problem.
She
did the talking. It was hard to break into her almost nonstop lectures that started from the time Kathryn walked into the dining room.

“Well, you are late. Of course, that ran in your mother’s side of the family. It did not come from the Marksonvens. The Marksonvens were up before the sun and worked until dark. They made their appointments on time. They finished every harvest, to be sure it came in first. I have been down here waiting. My mother taught me to come to dinner on time or preferably, a minute or two early. I was taught at an early age not to keep my elders waiting.”

Kathryn smiled. “I would like to hear…”

“Don’t interrupt your elders. My mother was a distant cousin so I have good blood on both sides. Her family fished. They worked a large boat, still do. Hard work, but brings in good money. The whole area appreciates the extra cash. Helps everyone.”

During all of these words with the slight accent, a young girl brought in dishes full of food. Well she wouldn’t starve. There were bowls of potatoes and carrots. A platter of beef and dumplings with thick gravy was placed between where Aunt Halla who sat at the head of the table and Kathryn, who had been placed at the side. There were fresh hot yeast rolls and a saucer of fresh churned butter.

Glasses of rich milk sat at each plate. Kathryn was amazed to watch the petite older woman put away a robust amount of all the food. How did this woman stay so trim?

“Eat up. I don’t like to waste food. Besides, you will need the energy for the trip to the Fisherman’s Memorial Museum tomorrow.” Finally, Aunt Halla had to take a break as she stuffed a whole dumpling into her mouth.

“Aunt Halla, I have so many questions to ask about my family, especially about my parents. I have been traveling nonstop for days and need some rest. Perhaps, we could just stay here at your beautiful home and talk?” Kathryn tried to make the question a soft request, hoping to reach the determined older woman.

“Humpf. Young people have no stamina anymore. You will learn much about your family by getting out and seeing what your ancestors have done. The Fisherman’s Memorial Museum is a good place to start. I will have Mikkel bring you up some of his sister’s clothes. You will stand out like a sick walrus in those silly American things. You will feel more at home in your family’s clothes. Pass me some more of the rolls.”

Kathryn listened to the woman talk for another hour as the food was taken away. For dessert, a custard that was still warm was brought in with a beautiful tea service. This tea was like the one she had found at the bus station. Strong, but served with thick cream and a rugged lump of dark sugar.

Several times, Kathryn tried to ask a question or break in, but her aunt just rolled on with details that weren’t of her immediate family. Aunt Halla would point out that the floor needed waxing, which led to the point that they needed to go to the woods to find a good beehive buried in a tree that she thought might still be there since she was younger. They could get both wax and honey, but they would do that later. “There are the boat docks that are necessary to go to. There are lots of relics from the Vikings, of which the Marksonvens were all descendants, bless Oden and God.”

Aunt Halla finally quit talking and stood up. However, of course, she was not done. “Well, you have quite worn me out. I am so tired filling you in and answering all your questions. Look how late it is. I am going to bed because we will be up early for our trip.”

Kathryn just sat there with her mouth open as the old woman with the straight back turned slowly to walk out, leaving her alone at the dining room table.

The young girl was taking the last of the dishes out of the room so she decided that was that.
Bedtime.

Now here Kathryn found herself was atop a large stone monument. The morning had been a rough one, starting out with a loud lecture on the fact that she had overslept although her wristwatch said it was five in the morning local time.

He aunt sent her back up to her room with an armful of clothes from Mikkel with and instructions to hurry and change as she had already wasted so much time. Actually, she found the skirt along with the blouse that had a leather-looking belt comfortable. The jacket was a little large, with huge buttons that looked to be made from bone. The blouse was a light tan, but the skirt and jacket were dark brown.

The boots had sturdy hard leather soles without heels, but heavy thick stops that came to her knees. There were ties she could pull that would keep them up on her legs. Since they met her skirt, she was almost too warm when they started out.

They had hot rich tea and cold sandwiches made from the left over beef of the night before as Mikkel drove them. During the whole trip, Aunt Halla lectured on the history of the people they drove past. It was all very interesting, but none of it pertained to her or her parents. Her aunt seemed to have to spout words that Kathryn kept Kathryn hunting for any tidbits that might tell her anything about her parents.

She was surprised by the beauty of the site. This building was similar to a stone pointed monolith. It rose from a forest garden on the edge of a cliff overlooking the point where the channel fed into the sea. Using her dictionary, she translated enough to learn that the channel was known as Langerak Channel.

For her, it was difficult to tell the difference between the sea in the east and the channel in the south. The channel was so wide, she couldn’t see across it, and the choppy waves made the color of the water the same in both areas. Around the area, many large rocks and small monuments evidently marked objects that reflected Viking sites or items.

By the time they entered the lobby, Kathryn was again able to pick up small items of interest from the long discourse that Aunt Halla spilled out ceaselessly.

Kathryn looked at one item. It was not a weapon, but something used on fishing boats long ago. Her aunt explained that this name was one of the men lost at sea and related to them. Continuing to scan the objects, she thought, that is an actual Viking sword. Looking at a round piece of silver, she realized it was the metal band used on their heads. No, silly girl. Vikings didn’t wear horned helmets. Such a stupid idea.

The museum actually had a metal detector set up inside the second door. Aunt Halla had a couple of large metal clips in her hair along with a pocket full of loose coins. This set off the alarm as a couple of local guards took her aside.

The whole time they examined her, Aunt Halla never quit talking in English. She let her hair down and left the clips along with the coins for the guards to do with whatever they wanted. None of them spoke English, but they were polite and the pat down search was not invasive. Suddenly, the guards and everyone else was pointing at her, then one of them reached over to touch her hair. Shit, she really needed to give up and cut her hair. Now that it was loose, it reached to her waist. Bright red and curly, it was attracting way too much attention.

In Denmark, there were plenty of blonds of all shades, including many caramel or brown, left over from the ancestors of the north. Finally, she and Aunt Halla were in the elevator going to the top as she tried to tuck her hair into the back of her jacket. Evidently, there weren’t too many redheads.

She would have to look up to see if there had been any contact with the red hair colors of Scotland in Viking history. From the reaction, though, she guessed there had not been much interaction. She did know the Vikings went into Britain. The History Channel said they even went into Russia, but this had nothing to do with her learning about her parents.

Oh, but it gave a whole new topic for Aunt Halla to rant about.
No redheads in the family, no matter how far back you looked at the records
. It had to be on her mother’s side, tainted blood. Blah, blah, blah, all the way up her aunt mumbled in a strange elevator that someone in a separate building really was cranking it by hand.

They were about two hundred feet up when the elevator box jerked to a stop and they could exit onto a deck that allowed them a magnificent view of the entire area. It was breathtaking. To her eyes on one side, it looked like virgin forest. There was the water on two sides. Far off in the distance were boats or ships, but too far away to identify.

The sun was brilliant and warm, offsetting the chill of the wind. In the west, she could see the layout of the small city as it spread out of sight wrapping around the edge of the channel along the sandy shore. The back edge disappeared into the forest. Here, she could also see the gardens. These were well-tended plots laid out with the black rich earth showing through the dark green tops of plants growing tall in neat rows. She had expected many more. It was obvious that some were small for family use, but others were large growing items for sale in the city or for neighbors.

Kathryn had now shut out the voice of her Aunt. She just wandered the balcony, looking down at the small relics from ancient times, wondering if it was that different when others lived here.?

“Kathryn, I am going down to get Mikkel to order us lunch. He can drive into town and be back in a short time. You waste too much time. We have so much to see, but I expect it. I will try to reset my plans of where we are going for the next few days to conform to your slowness. Don’t take too long and …” Aunt Halla’s voice drifted away as the elevator door closed on her and Kathryn was alone in the quiet, grateful.

She took a few minutes to think about this trip. This far, it had not been what she had expected. Aunt Halla was a complete surprise and somewhat of a disappointment. Kathryn was tired and her mind was a jumble of sites and scenes as if everything was thrown at her in blinks. She knew there was quite a lot to learn, but she had to plan on some way to slow down the old woman and find out more about the actual family.

Well, shit, Kathryn. You came from her blood. If she was a pain the ass, you could be one, too. Time to be just as tough as Aunt Halla. Go back home and refuse to budge and make her talk about family. Yes, it was nice she had paid for the trip, but it was time she shared.

Time to face the demon. Kathryn went to the elevator and pushed the button to let the men know she wanted to come down. It seemed to take a long time for the elevator to return to the top, but perhaps someone was using it below. Finally, the doors opened and she entered, still feeling her internal strength as she watched the doors close.

There was a jerk, but the elevator didn’t move. She felt another jerk and the elevator let go—
really
let go, falling rapidly. It was dropping so fast, she felt herself actually rise up off the floor of the elevator. Her last thoughts were that she was going to die without ever learning anything else about her parents.

Kathryn opened her eyes. Okay, she wasn’t dead. Maybe she would learn something about her parents after all. Where was she? She slowly moved her head. What was it she had learned when she was fourteen and in that stupid first aid class that doesn’t seem very stupid right now?
Don’t move until you find out what is hurt.