Page 103 of The Last Viking

Merry-Death’s eyes went wide with horror at the woman’s crass question, and Mike put an arm around her shoulder, answering for her, “That will be all for today, folks. Any further questions should be directed to the college public information office. Thank you.”

With that, the picture faded away and moved on to a commercial for feminine products. Talk about crass!

Well, that settles it, then. If Geirolf had even remotely been considering a return to Merry-Death’s keep, that possibility was wiped out now. Not only would such an ill-considered action subject his beloved to the continual grief of his partings, but now he realized that future attempts to use the time portal would jeopardize the Trondheim project.

What should I do? Where is the answer to this puzzle? Why did my time-travel reversal fail? How can I ensure that my next endeavor will be successful?

Geirolf rubbed his talisman belt and lay back, spent, on the bedstead. With all these perplexing questions hammering at his brain, he fell into an exhausted sleep.

In the middle of the night, the answer came to him.

He would go to Norway on one of those flying machines. Perchance there he would find some answers. Not that he thought the time hole would open for him in another country. Nay, ’twould have to originate here off the coast of Maine. But, for some reason, he sensed that the clue lay in his homeland.

Thus inspired, Geirolf—knees knocking with fright—boarded a flying machine the next day in Bangor, where a taxi driver had taken him for only five hundred dollars. He’d even stopped along the way at a Wall-Mart so he could buy a leather Samson case and some clothing. Geirolf was sore tired of the strange looks he garnered everywhere he went. You’d think these people had never seen a man in a leather tunic afore.

As the flying metal bird took off into the sky a short time later, Geirolf braced himself within his seat restraints and prepared himself for what should be the most wondrous adventure of his life. ’Twas the fodder of the greatest sagas.

But he just stared dolefully out the window. All he could think was, I miss Merry-Death.

What was the meaning of this time-travel mission? There had to be a reason why he’d been sent here. It couldn’t just be an accident of fate.

It was probably wishful thinking on his part, but deep down inside his heart, a tiny spark ignited. Thus far, he’d been reacting to the events bombarding him at every turn. For the first time, he was taking action. Perhaps…oh, please, he prayed to all the gods, if it be possible, let me find a way that will lead me back to Merry-Death.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a rumbling masculine voice said from out of nowhere.

Awestruck, Geirolf glanced right and left, but no one else was paying attention to the God voice. The deity must be speaking only to him.

“Welcome to the friendly skies…” the God-voice went on.

Friendly? One of the gods is calling me a friend? Well, that certainly is a good sign. Is it Odin or the all-God?

“I promise you a safe journey,” the God-voice continued. Some of the words were not decipherable, sounding like Merry-Death’s car telephone. But safe journey, that was surely good news. He had just prayed to the gods to help him find a way to complete his father’s mission and be with Merry-Death, and the God-voice had just promised him a safe journey. That was as good as a promise in his mind.

Geirolf was drained from the emotional and physical battering of the past few days. But, for the first time in many sennights, he felt hopeful. Resting his head on the back of his seat, he allowed sleep to overcome him.

It was all in the hands of the gods now.

Chapter Nineteen

“What the hell is this?” Mike exclaimed a week after Rolf’s “death.”

After seven days of soul-wrenching anguish, Meredith had finally gathered enough strength that morning to log on her computer, at Mike’s urging. She’d intended to retrieve the instructions Rolf had said he’d typed in related to the ship project, which was at a standstill.

But she’d found much more. A letter to her from Rolf.

It was like a message from beyond the grave. Even though Meredith knew he’d written it the week before, it still felt as if he was talking to her now, from a thousand years away.

Merry-Death, my love:

When you read this, I will be gone…back to the tenth century. Please, dearling, do not mourn for me. What we had for a short time was more than many people ever experience in a lifetime. A gift from the gods, to be sure.

Study the Norse sagas, Merry-Death. I will try, if I am able, to leave a message for you. Some sign that I arrived safely in the past.

I misdoubt that I can change history because of my experience in your time, but I myself have changed. For the better. Because of you. Surely I will be a finer person for having my heart opened thus.

Please finish the longship project. I take comfort in the knowledge that you and I will both have fulfilled our honor-bound blood oaths. If we do not, our sacrifice was for naught.

Take joy in Thea, my love. Adopt children, if you must. But do not value yourself any less as a woman for your inability to conceive. You are all the woman any man could desire. For a certainty, you are all the woman this Viking will ever want. With all my love, forevermore,