Page 113 of The Last Viking

“Destiny?” she sputtered. If she wasn’t so angry, she’d laugh. Or cry.

Rolf released her shoulders and raked his fingers distractedly through his hair. She sat up with her legs still extended behind him on the sofa.

“Yea. At first, I didn’t understand…till I saw a single rose blooming in the ruins.”

The fine hairs stood out on Meredith’s skin as she sensed what would come next.

“And I knew—” his eyes lifted to hold hers with bleak entreaty “—I knew that you were my destiny.”

“Me?” she choked out, her defenses crumbling with each soft-spoken word. Oh, this Viking was a formidable warrior, even in the battle of emotions. She couldn’t stop the tears from brimming over now, but she pushed his hand away when he attempted to brush them off her cheek. No way would she concede this fight yet. “If that’s so, why did you go to London? I presume that’s where you went after Lindisfarne.”

He flinched at her sarcastic tone, and then nodded. “You said once that I’d be unable to live in your modern times, that I couldn’t adapt. I needed to prove that I can make a life for myself here, with you. So, I went to Hair-rod’s in London to purchase myself some business apparel. From there, I journeyed to Christie’s. That’s an establishment that auctions artifacts.”

“I know what Christie’s is,” she snapped. Her fuzzy brain suddenly cleared. “Oh, no! You gave them the talisman belt.”

“Yea, I did. And they assured me that it would bring a half million dollars, possibly more.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Those funds, in addition to the three hundred thousand additional dollars I got from the dealer in Bangor, should be enough. The dealer had a strong craving for a set of arm rings.” He smirked at her, obviously pleased with his business acumen.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Enough funds for what?”

“Rosestead: A Viking Village,” he said, beaming.

“What Viking village?” A stress headache kicked in behind her forehead, and she could barely comprehend all the information he was throwing at her.

“The one we’re going to build together, dearling.”

She snarled with frustration at his confusing answers. “You plan on building a village on my property?” Over my dead body!

“Nay, there is not enough room. That’s why I needed money—to buy more land. Later, I will take you to view the property I am considering. ’Tis a beautiful spot, close to a narrow river leading to the ocean, about thirty miles from here.”

“How much land?” she asked reluctantly. The man had not only been gallivanting all over Europe while she’d been salting the earth with her tears, but he’d been roaming Maine, as well. He must have a death wish.

“Oh, a hundred acres or so,” he informed her, waving a hand airily.

“And why would you be needing so much land?” She braced herself for his reply, fearing the worst.

“The longhouses, farms, shops, shipbuilding wharves, schools. It would be a working village—entirely self-sufficient,” he explained with boyish enthusiasm. “I’m thinking about manufacturing and selling fine sailing boats, along with textiles and soaps in the old style, perhaps Viking-style jewelry…. Do you think Jillian would come live in our community as the master jewelry maker? Herbs, swords, a mead brewery, and, of course, raising animals. Cows, horses, pigs, ducks, chickens…How do you feel about goats, Merry-Death?”

Yep, it was the worst. Her eyes were so wide she feared they might pop out. “G-g-goats?” she sputtered.

“Now, sweetling, do not distress yourself. We don’t need to have goats, if you do not favor them. In truth, they are smelly beasts. And contrary.”

“Aaarrgh!”

“I knew you would be pleased, dearling,” the blockhead said, leaning down to kiss her lightly on her gaping mouth. The fact that her lips tingled in no way mitigated her heightening anger. “You could assist me in managing this working village. Or else you can scribe that book you once said you yearned to relate about outrageous medieval women. I could help you, especially if you seek data on medieval women.” He jiggled his eyebrows at her, undaunted when she didn’t smile.

“You’ve been a real busy bee, haven’t you, Rolf? Making all these plans…all on your own. But the big question is ‘why’? Surely, all this isn’t just to prove you can adapt. In fact, you’d be doing just the opposite, trying to establish a Viking community in modern times.”

“Destiny…it’s my destiny.” He took her hands in his and spoke with heartfelt sincerity, his voice raspy with emotion. “Oh, don’t you see, Merry-Death? I finally realized why I was sent to your time. There is no Viking culture today. By blending into all the societies of the world, we Norsemen lost the most important thing—our own identity. You referred to me once as The Last Viking. Well, that’s just what I am. And it’s my mission to teach future generations all the good things about my people and our way of life.”

Meredith was about to tell him then that he wasn’t The Last Viking, that his line would endure with the small child growing already in her womb. But her throat choked over with emotion as she fought for words.

Rolf stood and walked over to the patio doors, staring out at the ocean. “There is another reason I want to establish this village,” he said softly. “In my travels, I saw so much poverty and despair. So many homeless people. Homeless children, even. Can you credit that, Merry-Death? There are children wandering your streets with no one to care for them. Do you not think it would be a good idea to bring those children here…at least, some of them? Do you not think they would benefit from living the simple Viking life?”

A soft sob escaped her lips. She unfolded herself from the couch and moved up beside him. “You’re doing this for me, aren’t you? So I can be surrounded with children?”