Chapter 4

"Linden?" Tabby's voice was tentative as she waved a ceramic cup mere inches from Linden's nose. "Won't you even consider having a cup of coffee? It would give you something to cry in and it's Irish Mocha."

Linden lifted her face from the shelter of her hands and sat up straight on her kitchen stool. She had been peeling carrots, but the pile of orange roots and knife had both been abandoned some time ago while she treated herself to the indulgence of a long, silent brood about Rolf's perfidy.

"Irish Mocha, huh? Thanks." She accepted the proffered mug and made no comment when Tabby pulled up the other bar stool and reached for the paring knife. "So where's Petr?"

"Out in the garden tying up the tomatos. He says that they escaped their cages again sometime in the night and weren't coming back peaceably."

Linden smiled faintly. "This year's garden has been exceptionally exuberant. And Tranum?"

"Completely engrossed in Rolf's books. You would think he'd never seen one before."

"He may not have." Linden took a fortifying sip of coffee and, as her eyes began to water, she realized that the Irish in the mocha was being supplied by the generous amount of whiskey Tabby had added to the earthen-ware cup.

"Yeah? Well, I kind of wanted to talk to you about that." Tabby shifted on the high stool and tried to find a comfortable place to rest her feet. The top rung was too high and the bottom one out of reach. She settled for wrapping her knees around the two side legs and locking her ankles. She picked up a carrot. "Linden, did you mean what you were saying earlier?"

"That Rolf is a dead man? Probably. This time he has gone too far."

"No. I mean about Tranum being Amish. I've heard of the Pennsylvania Dutch, but no one's ever said anything about the Danish. And Rolf never mentioned anything about them when he told us about his builders."

"Well, Tranum doesn't come from Pennsylvania. He's from Fyn." Linden swallowed another potent mouthful of coffee. "Tabby, I'd swear that until we got to the mall, he'd never seen a car or a McDonalds-- He's never had a milk-shake! He didn't know what a straw was... He had to ask me what french- fries were made of," Linden added as a clincher. "French- fries! Is anything more universal?"

"Really?" Tabby sounded more fascinated than alarmed.

"Really."

"But, Linden! What a great chance this is. Imagine! A French-fry virgin! There can't be many of them running around in the twentieth century."

"Great chance! Tabby, think about this! The innocent has fallen among the heathens. Or the heathen has fallen among the lions-- or something."

"Heathen?"

"Tabby," Linden took a deep breath. "He worships the Norse gods. You know what that means? He isn't a Christian. His family was forced to a baptism when he was a baby but his folks died, and he went off to live with his old- fashioned Viking grandfather who was a follower of Odin's Way. The real Norse thing-- not Rolf's playing around."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Wow. How neat. This is really something."

"Yeah, it really is." Two more gulps went down. Linden sniffed. She was actually beginning to feel somewhat better.

"I guess it was kind of poor timing on Rolf's part to be gone this week," Tabby admitted. "But maybe he didn't know that Tranum was coming. I mean, if they're Amish, they won't have a phone. Right? Maybe Tranum didn't think to call and tell Rolf when he'd get here."

"You'd defend my brother to your dying breath," Linden complained. "You and Petr both. I think this boat obsession has destroyed your brains. But in this case, you may be right. I don't think Rolf had an exact date of arrival."

"Well, there you go." Tabby sounded too reasonable for Linden's taste. She just didn't understand that Rolf had betrayed his sister-- and Tranum, too.

"He didn't have an exact date because Tranum came by boat," she informed her waitress. "A boat that apparently sunk the night he arrived. Along with everything that was in the boat. This may or may not have included a passport. You see, I'm not even certain that Tranum knows what a passport is or that he should have one."

"Oh." The tone was still not shocked, just thoughtful. "Well, I expect Rolf will think of something."

"Yes," Linden agreed pleasantly. "That's what alarms me. I have noticed over the years that whenever Rolf thinks of something, disaster is rarely far behind. Now that's fine for you and me. You have free will-- and I am clearly a victim of hereditary destiny, the butt of some cosmic, genetic joke-- but I do feel a little sorry for Tranum being left to face the wonders of the late twentieth century, without any money or possessions, and with only Rolf for his guide."

"But Rolf isn't his only guide," Tabby objected. "You're here, too. And so are Petr and I-- though Tranum seems to like you better than us. I think he's sweet on you." "Ha! That's what you think! I know better," Linden denied automatically, as she had all attraction to the opposite sex since the idiot, Gordon, had run out on her. "The man just likes to boss me around. Anyway, I don't want to be here. In fact, I've been thinking of changing my name so Rolf can't find me, and running away from home. Especially if he stands up those linguists next weekend. I don't care to hear the Kirstensen name taken in vain, you know, and that is the very least that will happen if we don't put on a good show. And damnit-- This was all his idea! Contacting the university--"

"Actually, that might not be a bad idea." Tabby interrupted.

"What!" Linden put down her cup. She had been indulging the whiskey in her system and hadn't actually expected Tabby to agree with her ravings. They had all concluded that the professors' visit was important for Club Valhalla's advertising and future business ties with what promised to be a very interested section of Academe, and an affirmative answer to her sarcastic suggestion threw her off stride.

"Oh, not about the linguists," Tabby said quickly. "Tranum's got to be here for them. Petr says he speaks strange Danish. It probably comes from being so isolated. Any way, the profs will love him."

"Yeah?"

"And we need you here to show them how the old loom works and to explain about the heritage garden. But it might not hurt you to take off for a few days before they get here. Try and unwind a little. You've been as restless as a nervy cat, Linden."

"But, Tabby--" The whiskey made her voice feeble; her brain, too, but though she couldn't articulate why, the idea sounded both very alarming and very attractive.

"Look, we don't have any guests to worry about and you deserve a vacation. In fact, you need a vacation. Petr and I would be grateful if you took one before you cracked up completely," Tabby said frankly. "These Mead Feeds are going to give you an ulcer-- and then you'll give us one with your fretting and fuming."

"But I can't just go off and leave Tranum here!" Linden objected, making no comment about the fretting and fuming since it was true.

"I wasn't suggesting that you should," she answered, halving a carrot with Linden's discarded knife.

Linden found her words to be portentous. She could feel Circumstance and Fate closing in on both sides, and wasn't sure if she was nervous or thrilled about being caught in the trap.

"Just what are you suggesting?" Linden asked, preparing for retreat if Tabby actually let the seductive genie out of the bottle.

"Well... Why not take him with you?" Linden heard the seal crack on the forbidden bottle as Tabby's enthusiastic words bubbled out like carbonated soda from a newly opened can. The imp of Satan was actually tempting her to ruin and damnation with the two old stand-bys, a man and a vacation.

"Tabby!" She protested for the sake of form, but was unable to actually order the devil to get thee behind me.

"You could do a little sight-seeing, show him around the state. In fact, aren't they running the Renaissance Pleasure Fair up in Novato? No, they moved. Well--"

"Tabby!" Linden tried vainly to shove some of the bubbles back inside, but like Vesuvius, Tabby just kept welling up. The genie got bigger and more attractive with every word.

"Or what about Disneyland? Everyone should see Disneyland!"

"Tabby!"

"Maybe travel down the coast, take in a few romantic spots or a couple candle-light dinners-- Or how about Vegas? Or Mexico? Cancun-- Acapulco--"

"TABBY!" Linden all but shouted.

"What?" The bubbles paused.

"Absolutely not. It's too expensive." Linden moderated her voice. "And we certainly can't go to Mexico! Have you forgotten about his passport? It's impossible!"

"Oh come on, Linden! Never mind about the money and the passport. That's just an excuse--"

"A valid one. We do not want to tangle with the federales or the border patrol."

"Fine. So skip Mexico! Just go away. It would do you good. It would do me good-- And it's not like the man is the hunchback of Notre Dame or Attila the Hun. Have a heart! I mean, he's going to get real bored around here with nothing to do except look at books until Rolf gets back from where ever-- and you know what they say about idle hands."

"Being the devil's playground? Sorry, but Rolf's got that one all sewn up." But Linden was afraid that Tabby had a valid point. Tranum would get bored eventually, and then there was no knowing what he might do. The thought of Tranum on his own was enough to grey her hair.

"Linden." Tabby sat up straight and looked as stern as it was possible for her to be. "Either you take a vacation, or..."

"Or?" Linden asked reluctantly, praying the threat was a good one. Something absolutely irresistible.

"Or Petr and I are going on strike."

"What!"

"We'll leave you all alone to deal with the profs," she threatened and then added grimly: "And the Mead Feed." "This is blackmail!" Linden wailed. But very good blackmail. She could feel the excitement as heated blood poured into her skin, flushing her face and making her body itch.

"Yes, it is. I'm sorry, but this is for your own good."

"You and Petr just want me out of the way so that you can steal the silver." Linden knew that she was beaten, and though feeling oddly happy about the fact, she still felt the need to protest the loss of control.

"You don't have any silver," Tabby reminded her as she sliced another carrot in two. "Why don't you go pack."

Tranum finally looked up from the wonderful books arrayed on his small table when the afternoon light began to fail outside his window. His thoughts were reeling and he felt a little like he'd received a blow to the head or perhaps been drowned again.

These books were amazing things! He must go and discuss them with Linden.

Tranum stood up and frowned. The sun was far in the west and Linden had still not come to see him. He wondered for a moment if she was busy preparing the evening meal, but a quick breath told him that there were no smells coming from the kitchen.

He should wait and force her to come to him as he had ordered, but he wished to discuss the strange ships immediately and decided that just this once he would over- look his own order and seek her out.

But first he changed from Rolf's tight clothes into the new ones that the little red hair had brought. The trews were softer now that they had been laundered and the T-shirts had lost a great deal of their unpleasant smell, though he was sure that he could still find them in the dark by scent alone. Perhaps the burned odor was an identifier of warrior garb, he thought, while pulling the red and gold garment over his head.

Most of the hall doors were open and looked in on rooms that were similar to his own. Tranum paused a moment at Rolf's chamber, considering whether to take the time to enter and study the models displayed on the shelves above the bed. He would also like to search the large trunk for more of the wonderful books; but he hesitated. He should not enter Rolf's room without permission and he really did want to see Linden.

Tranum regretfully turned away and continued down the hall. He paused at the one closed door and caught a faint whiff of Linden's scent. He raised a hand to the latch and then paused again. Should he knock first?

He took another deep breath. No question of a mistake, this was indeed Linden's room. Her smell was quite strong here. Satisfied, he lifted the latch silently and pushed open the door.

His little Valkyrie was curled up on her bed sleeping atop the butter colored blanket. She was still wearing her red tunic and dark blue trews, but she had removed the bulky laced shoes that did not flatter her feet. They lay tumbled carelessly beside the pallet, the only flaw in the order of the immaculately clean room.

The failing sun entered in thin bars through the shutters on her window and bathed her room in stripes of darkness and light. It shone on her hair which lay behind her in a fan of rich copper and gold.

More than ever, she resembled the beautiful Sif. Except that she was too still; he could not see if she even breathed.

Concerned, Tranum started forward, only to be halted by a light hand on his arm. He looked down and frowned at the little red hair, Tabby, who had appeared at his side.

Tabby made a gesture for silence and then beckoned him toward the kitchen. Tranum ignored her for a moment while he looked back at the sleeping Linden.

She did not look fevered. There was only a healthy flush to her cheeks. That relieved him of one concern, for he had not gotten the impression that Linden normally slept during the day and it had disturbed him to see her laying so still. Particularly after her attack of forgetfulness that afternoon which her intense rage had brought on.

Now that he watched closely, he could see the faint stirring of her exhalations on a stray wisp of hair that curled across her face. There was still breath in her body.

If she was merely resting, it would do no harm to go to the kitchen with the red hair and discover what she wanted and perhaps eat some more food. Tranum nodded assent at the beckoning Tabby and reluctantly closed the door to Linden's room. He would come back later to discuss the books.

"She is well?" he asked quietly of Tabby when they reached the empty white kitchen.

"Yes. Ja. Um... komme. Jeg kan ikke tale det dansk. Petr." She gestured toward the window and Tranum could see the thin, dark man who had prepared the meat the evening before working out in the garden. Linden's vegetable plot was surrounded by a low, wood fence. "Petr... dansk."

Tranum nodded to show that he understood, and an obviously relieved Tabby watched as he went out through the kitchen door.

"Hello. Nice shirt. I'm a 'Niners fan myself." Petr looked up from a sprawling bush that bore round, red fruit and smiled at Tranum. "Is it safe? Is Linden sleeping yet?"

"Yes, of course it is safe." Tranum looked down at his T- shirt. He would like to ask the meaning of Niners fan but did not allow himself to be distracted. "Why does she sleep in the day? Is she unwell?"

"No. She is just very tired and Tabby gave her a drink to help her rest."

"What drink?" Tranum demanded, not liking the idea of his Valkyrie being drugged. It was often dangerous to rest in a drugged state, and certainly unproductive. Havamal said that: A sleeping wolf rarely gets a bone. Or a sleeping man a victory. Tranum never sotted himself with wine.

"Whiskey. She is not drugged," Petr reassured him hastily as Tranum frowned. "She knew she was drinking it."

"Hmph!" Tranum did not approve, but he would discuss this with Linden later. "What is that plant you are tying?"

"A tomato. Tomat. No?"

"The fruit is sweet?"

"No. It is more like a vegetable." Petr was looking at him closely. Perhaps he was admiring the start of his new beard. "May I speak plainly with you, Tranum?"

"It would be welcome," he answered, squatting down beside Petr and helping to lift up the overgrown plant. The fuzzy leaves were surprisingly delicate.

"Linden is of the opinion that you are... Amish? Does this word mean anything to you? Well, the Amish are a people that came here many years ago seeking freedom from religious persecution. They are... They keep to the old ways. They do not use the machines-- devices?-- that most people here use. No cars. No electricity-- lights? Like the ones in the house. And they are very peaceful. No weapons. No wars." Petr paused to give him time to comment.

"I did not come for religious freedom. I came to build a boat... We do not use your machines in Fyn but we are not Amish; We are Viking," Tranum added. He was not certain what else to say to the waiting Petr. Instead he asked a question which he greatly desired an answer to. "Why does this Amish distress Linden?"

"She fears that harm will come to you. That you do not know the dangers of this world. If you were Amish, you would not be able-- permitted by your religion-- to defend yourself."

"And she wishes to protect me-- for Rolf." Tranum did not know whether to be amused or upset that it was duty that compelled her. The fact that she thought he would not fight in his own defense explained a great deal of her strange behavior.

"No. I mean, yes. She does want to protect you. But I don't think that it is just for Rolf."

"No?" he asked thoughtfully. "That is good. It proves that she is brave. But why does she think that I am Amish? She has seen Leg-Biter. It is plain that I am a warrior."

"I'm not sure why she thinks you're Amish, except that you seem surprised by some of the same devices that would trouble the Amish. Maybe she just didn't have another word to describe you. I must admit that I can't think of one."

"I am a Viking," Tranum repeated. "And that is a good thing to be."

"Tabby and I think it's good, too. It's very useful to have a real Viking around while we're building a ship. But this is where things get a little difficult for Linden to understand... She's not like Rolf. She likes absolute order in her life. Complete understanding." Petr stopped talking while he tied the twine to the wooden stake. When he was finished, Petr said casually: "We have arranged for you go away with Linden for a few days. That will give her some time to get to know you... She doesn't think that she wants to go, but we persuaded her."

"Why does she not want to go?" he asked bluntly. "Because she thinks I am Amish?"

"No, she is concerned about the inn."

"The inn?" Tranum asked.

Petr waved a hand at the longhouse and said: "Club Valhalla." "Oh... Why is she concerned?" Tranum asked. "It is because of the men who are coming?"

"In part. It is also because..." Petr again paused as he gathered his tools and moved on to the next plant. It was heavy with glossy red fruit and Petr removed several of the larger globes and set them in a basket.

"She and her brother love each other. They are all that are left of the Kirstensen family," Petr began again. "But they are very different from each other. Rolf is clever and he has wonderful ideas for new devices and ways of doing things. It is unfortunate that many times when he has a wonderful idea, he just drops whatever he is working on and goes away to work on it. When he does that, Linden is left to pick up the pieces of his task and try to straighten out what Rolf has left undone."

"Many women do this," Tranum pointed out, but not without a certain sympathy. He was thinking of his brethren that had left him to deal with the skraelings.

"Yes. But most women have had some experience with the tasks left to them. You would not ask a woman to... ah... to run a smithy, would you?"

"Rolf asks her to do this?" Tranum was surprised. Linden had been a princess before Club Valhalla and would have no knowledge of such tasks. "That is not a woman's work. I will run the smithy for her."

"That is just an example. The smithy is very small and we only use it for the boat." Petr sighed and shook his head. He sounded like Linden. "The point is, Linden never knows what will happen from one day to the next-- and it makes her very nervous and irritable."

"This I have seen."

"Haven't we all?" Petr used a device made of two hinged knives to cut a piece of cord. Tranum picked the tool up and studied it as soon as Petr was done. It was an ingenious invention.

"Did Rolf make these?" he asked.

"No. Those are Linden's," Petr answered absently. "She is the gardener. Also the weaver and the seamstress."

Tranum was impressed. Linden indeed carried a great deal of responsibility, and she must be a better smith than he had expected to have forged such a tool. Still, the thought of her toiling over hot coals while she shaped metal bothered him. Her delicate flesh might get burned.

"As I was saying, Tabby and I think that it would be good for Linden to go away for a few days. She needs to relax. To... uh..."

"To play?" Tranum suggested.

"Exactly!" Petr smiled and tied another knot. "Linden needs to go and play. She would not do this just for herself. She is too dutiful to leave when Rolf is gone. But since you are here and have not seen the country, she has agreed to be your guide-- Don't frown! Linden is a good guide, and I'm not afraid that you would run into any real danger-- and if you did, I'm certain that you could take care of yourself. But what about Linden? Think what would happen if you refuse. Even if we could convince her to go alone, it would be too dangerous. Not that she would admit it, being stubborn as she is. Better to let her be the guide for your trip and to go on thinking that she's protecting you."

Tranum could not tell whether Petr was lying or not. His gut told him that he was not hearing the entire truth, but what Petr said made a great deal of sense. Had not Linden herself said that she liked to play? Had he not also seen and heard Linden so upset that she threatened to strangle her brother? Also, he enjoyed having her attention fixed on his well being... And it was true that it was very dangerous for a woman to travel alone.

Besides, he did not want to stay in Club Valhalla without Linden.

"And aren't you curious about America?" Petr was asking. "Don't you want to see more of this place?"

Petr had another good point. Tranum was indeed very curious about America.

"Very well," Tranum agreed. "Linden and I will go and see America for a few days. Perhaps when she has played for a while she will cease to speak of strangling her brother."

"Perhaps... For a while." Petr smiled a little, suggesting that Linden's desire to strangle Rolf was an ever present one.

It made Tranum wonder if the brother and sister did truly love one another. He had never had a sister so he could only guess at what her feeling might be. His grandfather had told him once of a woman who had been so angered at her two brothers that she cut them up with axes. He could not imagine his Valkyrie actually using an axe on anything except furniture, but it was better to practice caution and diffuse her anger before her brother returned. It was the least he could do for Rolf.

"I will go and speak to Linden." Tranum stood up and then noticed the woody vines growing on a low arbor. They bore unripe but recognizable fruit; grapes. Several types of them, too.

He thought for a moment of how long it had been since grapes had grown in his homeland. In the winter the mountain moors became snow-choked fells and grew white with ice that all but froze the sinews and bones, and nearly paralyzed the will of even the strongest of men. No grapes could survive there; and only very hardy people.

These old vines in Club Valhalla told him clearly of the mild winters that came to this land... No snow. No Asgard. No Odin. Just Club Valhalla and more and more questions for Rolf when he returned.

"Um... There is just one more thing." Petr's voice interrupted Tranum's thoughts. "I don't know quite how to say this..."

"No one speaks good Danish here." Tranum heard himself sigh and wanted to curse.

"I mean that I do not wish to offend you," Petr explained.

"Go on. My desire for plain speech will tolerate some bad manners. If you hurry."

"Well... I don't know how it is with women in your town, but here, women are independent. They choose whom they will... They choose their own partners. It would be wrong to... uh..." Petr waved his cutters. The gesture meant nothing to Tranum but he understood the pauses in between the unclear sentences.

"Are you thinking that I would force myself on Linden? Rape her?" Tranum ground his teeth, reminding himself that he had given Petr permission to speak freely so he could not cleave his skull in two. "Do you think this is how I would repay Rolf's hospitality? By attacking his sister!"

"No! No, of course not," Petr backed away a step. "I just mean that she is shy. A man lied to her once. He promised to marry her and then went off with another woman... Since then, Linden has been wary about... You should wait for her to give you some sign that she is ready to... be more than friends."

"This I know," he said in exasperation. He was also very curious about this man who had betrayed Linden, but he would not gossip about Linden with Petr. "Is there any other plain speech you wish to make?"

"No. That is all."

"Good." Tranum turned and walked away. He took one of the red fruits with him.

He would examine the remainder of the garden when Linden could accompany him and tell him all about the plants and the winter weather. Right now he wanted to speak with her about this man she was to marry and about seeing more of America. Especially the America where they had the boats in Rolf's books.

Now that he had had time to consider it, going away with Linden was an excellent notion. When they were away, she would not have to spend all her time on chores and the smithy; she would only need to care for him. Sharing a campfire at night would be enjoyable for both of them... And as for this notion that he would force himself upon Linden! It was quite untrue that he had thought of taking her against her will. This journey to America was not a raid to gather thralls for Asgard; but that did not mean that he could not woo her into choosing to come to his bed of her own free will.

Free will. So women did the choosing here. That would explain why Linden had remained unmarried. It was also very convenient for him. He did not need to wait for Rolf's consent to be with his sister. He needed only Linden's. This was good. Linden was already very drawn to him, he could tell... Yes, going away for a few days to look at ships and woo his scorned Valkyrie was a very meritorious idea!

Club Valhalla

Copyrighted (c) 2002 Melanie Jackson

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