Chapter 10: Difficult Translations

Travis came up to Lars and said, “We need to talk. Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” replied Lars. Getting away from Helga seemed like a good idea. If he hung around her much longer, he’d find himself in the Viking version of a shotgun wedding. He extracted his arm and excused himself and followed Travis out of the bunkhouse. It was still raining.

“That girl has her eyes set on you,” said Travis.

“Don’t I know it!”

“And?”

“And I don’t know. I know her father is going to kill me, but at times it seems like it’d be worth it,” Lars replied.

“You’ve known her, what, two days? Three? And now you’re in love?” asked Travis.

Lars shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve been in lust before, but not in love. Have you ever been in love?”

It was Travis’ turn to shrug. “Sure. Met a girl while I was at the Point. We got married right after graduation.”

“And?”

“And we got divorced right after my second tour in Afghanistan. I might not be the right role model for you.”

“Yeah. So, what do I know? I’m pretty sure Helga is looking at me as future wedding material. Like I said, I’m not sure I’d mind. I’ve never met anybody like her, that’s for sure. How I’d be a husband while going to school and working at Burger Express, that’s a whole different question!”

“Well, you need to go see Doctor Cooper. He wants to make some plans involving you.”

“Where are we having dinner tonight? Here or the cookhouse?”

“Here at 1800. We need to talk to Torvald about funerals.”

“The dead guy’s, or mine?”

Travis just smiled and shrugged, which made Lars groan. He headed off to the hospital to find Doctor Cooper. He found him talking to Lieutenant Goodhew in an empty examination room. “You looking for me, Doc?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you for coming over. I asked Mister Shockley to send you. We are going to need you for a few things over the next few days, Lars.”

“You and everybody else!”

Cooper smiled and nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“What’s up?”

“Starting tomorrow, the dentist wants to begin examining each of the Vikings. She plans to examine each of them, get a hygienist to give them a good cleaning, and determine what, if anything, needs to be done for each of them.”

“Like what?” Lars asked curiously.

“See if they have any cavities that need filling, that sort of thing. From what I have seen, I know there are some missing teeth and at least one of the men has a bad toothache. If they need reconstructive work, she plans to document the requirements. That would have to be referred to a different hospital, and we don’t know what that means in this situation. The plan is that we call in a few at a time, you explain what is going to happen, and then stick around for the first few patients. The hope is that if the first few go well, you can have the survivors tell the next patients what to expect.”

“The survivors?”

“Whatever. You like going to the dentist?”

“Not particularly.”

“Same here.”

Lieutenant Goodhew spoke up at that point. “We also have another problem, and you need to be involved in that.” Lars simply nodded and gave her a questioning look. “It’s related to what we were talking about this morning, when you showed the white feather and took off.”

“What?” It took Lars a couple of seconds to figure out what Doris was talking about, and then his eyes opened wide. “Oh, no way!”

“Lars, this is important, and you are the only one here who can talk to these people, especially the women.”

Doctor Cooper said, “Lars, you’ve been in the staff meetings. We can’t send these folks back to where they came from. They are stuck here. Fine, we know it and we can deal with it, but there are going to have to be some changes. Just what do you know about birth control and reproduction?”

“Just that I don’t want to be involved in reproduction. When they gave the banana class, I passed with flying colors,” Lars answered.

“Please, Lars, this is serious. We have a problem and need your services,” said the nurse.

Lars sighed. “Okay, this is me being serious. What is the problem?”

“We need to discuss birth control with the Viking women. Maybe the men, too, but certainly the women.”

“Why? Why now, anyway. Why don’t we wait until they’ve learned some English and then a doctor or nurse can do this?”

“Because that might take too long. Just how much do you know about human reproduction, Lars?”

“Probably about what most other guys know. Guys provide the sperm; women provide the eggs. Condoms prevent them from meeting. There’s also the Pill, IUDs, and some other stuff that does the same. Beyond that, I’m no doctor. Why?”

Doris replied, “In pre-industrial societies, which is what we have here, birth control simply didn’t exist. Birth control consisted of the rhythm method, which isn’t all that effective. It’s the reason most primitive societies kept such tight controls on women. Once a woman became sexually active, it was guaranteed she would become pregnant and stay that way most of her life.”

“I don’t understand.”

Cooper took over. “A woman becomes biologically capable of bearing children in her early to mid-teens. Let’s take fifteen as an average age. Some societies it is earlier, some later, but let’s use fifteen. So, she gets married and, like most teenagers, immediately goes into sexual overdrive because it’s fun. Without birth control, a woman will become pregnant within five to six months. Nine months later the next generation of Vikings comes along.”

“I’m following you,” said Lars.

“Now, this is also an age without any baby formula. The woman will need to nurse the child for at least a year to a year-and-a-half before the child will be able to eat regular food. Only then will the mother be able to wean the child,” said the doctor.

Lars had a look that said he didn’t really understand. Lieutenant Goodhew explained, “When a woman is nursing, what is called lactating, the hormones being released prevent her from getting pregnant again. It’s almost like the Pill in that regard. In any case, when she stops nursing the baby, within a few days her hormones go back to normal, and she can become pregnant. Five or six months later, she’ll be pregnant again and the cycle starts all over.”

“Oh, okay. So, without the pill or whatever, she’s almost always pregnant or taking care of a baby.”

“Exactly. On average, in pre-industrial societies, women give birth every two-and-a-half to three years. Over a twenty-year average reproduction period she will give birth to seven to eight children,” said Doris.

Lars’ eyes popped open at that. “Jesus! That’s all she’s doing? Just making babies? She’s a baby-making machine!”

Doctor Cooper said, “That’s very much the case. It still goes on in primitive societies even today. I did a tour in Afghanistan and women your age often have two to three children already.”

“Needless to say, a pregnant woman who is nursing a baby and taking care of the other children is not a woman who can go to school or get a job. One of the most important things we do with poor societies is give women access to birth control, so they can plan their families,” said Doris. “It gets worse, Lars. In primitive societies, certainly what was seen in medieval Europe at the time, child mortality was very high. Half of all children born would die before their fifth birthday. Disease, accidents, getting eaten by wolves, whatever, anything could kill you if you didn’t have vaccines and medicines. The average life expectancy was about half what it is today. By the time a woman had her eight children, she was in her mid-thirties, if she was still alive, and her body was totally worn out. She might not even make it that far. In pre-industrial societies, there was about a ten percent chance that a woman would die in childbirth. Start working out the odds of surviving eight births.”

“Shit!” muttered Lars. It was one thing to learn some of these things in a classroom, but on a North Sea island with medieval Vikings, it seemed a lot more real.

“You can already see this with the Vikings we have here. Helga’s friend Una, she’s pregnant with her second child, right?” asked Doris.

“Right.”

“Wrong. This is her third child. Her first died within days of his birth three years ago.”

“Shit!”

Cooper said, “We need you to explain these things to the women of child-bearing age. One of us will be with you, probably the lieutenant here. I know this will be delicate, but on the plus side, you can stress that with modern medicine and vaccines, the children they bear will all grow up, and that with modern sanitation, simple things like washing our hands, they won’t die in childbirth.”

“I need to think about this. I understand it’s important, but I don’t know. I mean, I just don’t know the words. Old Norse simply doesn’t have words like birth control, none that would make any sense, anyway,” Lars admitted.

Doris smiled at him. “I suggest you try, Lars. The way Helga is looking at you, she is planning to promote you from boyfriend to fiancé right soon! I don’t think they had shotgun weddings, but they probably had sword point weddings.”

“Hey!”

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, Lars. Thank you for coming,” said Doctor Cooper, who was smiling at Lieutenant Goodhew.

Lars left the field hospital and went back to the tent he shared with Travis. He knew he needed to return to the bunkhouse and play translator again, but he had too much to think about. What was Helga up to? What was Torvald going to do about whatever Helga was up to? How was he going to tell Helga about birth control? What was Torvald going to do when he learned Lars was talking to her about birth control? How bad was it going to hurt when his balls went sailing out to sea? Lars laid down on his cot and fell asleep still wondering what Torvald was going to do to him.

Lars woke when Travis kicked his cot. “Drop your cock and grab your socks! It’s time to get up!”

“Huh?”

“It’s time for dinner. Get up. We need to talk to Torvald. We’re dining with him. You need to translate, at least when you’re not hitting up Helga.”

“That’s not funny!”

Travis shrugged. “Not my problem, buddy. It’s your balls on the chopping block, not mine.”

“That girl is going to get me killed.”

“But what a way to go,” commented Travis. “Come on, get up.”

Lars rolled out of bed but changed his socks and put on a new shirt. The dirty clothing, he tossed into his mesh bag. “Let’s go.”

“Comb your hair. Helga will think you look better that way.”

“Hey, Travis, exalted and superior employer, go fuck yourself!”

Travis simply laughed and gently pushed Lars towards the doorway. They ran through the rain to the bunkhouse.

Once inside, they looked around. The dining room tables had been brought out and set up, and Helga was standing near one and looking at the door. When she saw Travis and Lars enter, her face lit up with a huge smile and she waved at them. She skipped over and tucked her arm through Lars’. “ Lars! Komtilr dagr-verðr!” {"Lars! Come to dinner!"} She pulled him over to the table she had claimed with her father.

“Heil, Torvald.”

“Heil, Lars,” replied Torvald. He glanced at Helga’s arm intertwined with Lars’ and rolled his eyes. “Heil, Travis.”

Travis smiled and glanced at Helga and Lars. “Heil, Torvald.”

Torvald simply shook his head and tilted his head towards the steam tables. “Dagr-verðr?” {"Dinner?"}

“Ja,” replied Travis. They walked over to the line of diners and Travis and Lars automatically went towards the end of the line.

Torvald and Helga stopped at that and then followed. “ Hví gerði þú eigi líðtilr fyririnn ór linerinn?” {"Why did you not go to the front of the line?"}

Travis looked at Lars and said, “Be careful translating this.” He looked over at Torvald and said, “We do not have different classes.”

“Vér gereigir haf ólíkr tiginn,” Lars translated.

“It shows respect to our fellow warriors.”

“Þat visr virðing til okkarr landi hermaðr. Þú eru rit.”

Torvald nodded. “Ja. Sjá” {"Yes. You are right."} He led his daughter to the end of the line with the others.

Once they got to the front of the line, which only took a few minutes, they selected their dinners, which were placed on their trays. Lars had to explain a few items, but not many. The most interesting question was whether what they were eating was normal food. Travis and Lars looked at each other for a moment, and then Lars shrugged and said, “ Þessi er góð fyrir herlið. Elligar ... eh!” {"This is good for the Army. Otherwise ... eh!"}

Torvald looked at his daughter and they shared a look. What Lars and Travis obviously considered mediocre food was better than what they had eaten most days. Even though Torvald and his daughter were wealthier than anybody else in their village, this food was more abundant than anything they had normally seen. They were in a very rich land if the local king could feed his warriors this way.

A few minutes after the four sat down at their table, Colonel Bellingham came up to them, carrying his own tray. “May I sit?”

It didn’t take a genius for Torvald to note the request. Even before Lars could translate the question, Torvald was waving an arm towards an empty seat. “Koma. Sitja.” It didn’t take an interpreter for the Colonel to recognize the answer as “Come. Sit.”

Colonel Bellingham set his tray down and sat on the bench seat. “Thank you.”

Lars said, “Þakka.” Then he said, “ Þessi er Colonel Bellingham. Hann er okkarr foringi.” {"This is Colonel Bellingham. He is our leader."}

Torvald nodded and said, “Heil.”

Lars said, “That means...”

“Hello. Yes, I’ve heard it around already. Heil, Torvald. Heil, Helga.”

Both Vikings replied in kind. Lars was hard put to eat his dinner while translating for the others. Still, he managed to get through dinner before things got serious. Colonel Bellingham started it with the statement, “It is time to return your warrior to you. We wish no disrespect. How do you do these things?”

Lars nodded and translated the request. The response was much what Jennifer Wiltshire had told them earlier, that Vikings were buried, though without benefit of a casket and usually with some possessions, but probably not with everything they owned. What he was not expecting was the question from Torvald. “Hvernig gerþúr heygja þinn dauðr?” {"How do you bury your dead?"}

Lars was able to explain this without assistance. “ Vér ok heygja okkarr dauðr. Vér staðr þau inn koffin, andlit upp. Ummm ... Inn langrr kista.” {"We also bury our dead. We place them in a coffin, face up. Ummm ... in a long box."} There was a long discussion of various funeral rites, which Lars found somewhat disconcerting. Torvald agreed to burying Sven in a coffin, and the American Rangers and British Army would bury Sven with what they called ‘full military honors’, which took Lars some time to explain. They agreed to do this in two days’ time. Later that day they would have a party of sorts, an ‘olðr’ or ale-party. Lars interpreted that as the equivalent of an Irish wake.

Bellingham smiled and said, “Don’t say anything, but that works. I have a few tanker trucks of beer coming in. They should be here by tomorrow night.”

Travis smiled. “You don’t really have beer in tankers, do you?”

Bellingham smiled wryly. “We should, but no. Still, there’s a lorry full of beer, several types, in fact. I know you Yanks have all sorts of rules, but your Colonel Fowler plans to turn a blind eye to it.”

“Works for me. I left the Army years ago. I’m a civilian these days.” He glanced over at Lars and said, “It’s legal to drink at eighteen in the UK.”

“What about the Vikings? I can guarantee that almost all of them have been drinking beer since they were babies. Miss Wiltshire said it was safer than drinking the water,” Lars asked.

“Maybe Colonel Fowler won’t be the only one turning a blind eye,” answered Bellingham. “Besides, my understanding was that most beers that were consumed then were weak, with just enough alcohol to kill any bacteria around. If they want, we can water it down for them.”

Lars and Travis simply shrugged. Both Torvald and Helga wanted to know what they were talking about, and Lars danced around the topic, simply stating that they had been discussing Sven Halstrom’s funeral, and that they wanted to make sure they showed the proper respect. They didn’t consider him an enemy, but a warrior who had fallen in battle. That seemed to satisfy the two Vikings.

Then Helga had put her arm through Lars’ again and said, “ Láta oss mælumr eittsvat ella.” {"Let us talk about something else."}

“Uhhhh... Ja.”

Torvald looked at Travis and said, “Hálfviti!”

Travis nodded and agreed. “Hálfviti!”

“What does that mean?” asked Colonel Bellingham.

“It’s Old Norse for idiot,” explained Travis, pointing at Lars. “It literally means ‘halfwit.’”

Bellingham looked over at Lars, whose arm was being held by Torvald’s beautiful young daughter. He simply nodded and said, “Ja! Hálfviti!”

Helga looked at them and kissed Lars on the lips, quickly and lightly. Then she looked at her father and the others and stuck her tongue out and gave them all a raspberry. Torvald grumbled, Travis and the colonel laughed, and Lars considered running from the room in screaming terror.

Then again, though unexpected, it had been a very nice kiss.

Bellingham saved Lars from death by angry father. He stood up and said, “Gentlemen, time for our staff meeting.”

Travis smiled and stood up slowly. Lars, on the other hand, immediately popped to his feet and practically ran to the door, saying, “Yes, sir!”

“Am I that scary?” the colonel asked Travis.

Travis replied, “No, but his future father-in-law is.”

“Ye Gods!”

The nightly staff meeting wasn’t vastly different from any earlier ones. It was the same department heads, along with Travis, Lars, and Jennifer, and the topics were the same - what are we doing tomorrow and what are we going to do with the Vikings? Only the first question was ever really discussed. The long-term plans were going to depend on people not in the meeting.

Colonel Bellingham started with the easy question. “So, immediate plans? What are we doing tomorrow? Still planning to work in the bunkhouse?”

The captain in charge of the Royal Engineers nodded. “Yes, sir. We are going to subdivide the bunkhouse, give everybody a little more privacy. Once they have their own space, we’ll be able to give them back their belongings. I gather that’s important to them.”

“Wouldn’t it be to you, Captain?” asked Travis.

“I’m just saying, it will be easier for them to do that if they have their own rooms, sort of,” he replied.

“Agreed,” said Bellingham. “Mister Shockley, Mister Ropstad, you two supervise that, at least at the beginning, until they get the hang of things.”

Travis nodded. “We’ll need Miss Wiltshire as well. She has been cataloging everything. She’ll know better who owns what.”

“Of course.” Bellingham nodded at Jennifer. “Didn’t mean to leave you out.”

“Not a problem. I’ll use this to sort some final items out. Not sure if I will ever get a chance to publish this, but it’s been interesting, that’s for sure,” she replied.

“Above our pay grade, unfortunately,” answered Bellingham. He looked over at Lieutenant Colonel Fowler. “That’s the expression, correct?”

“That’s the expression.”

“Still planning on a funeral in two days?” Bellingham asked.

“Nothing has changed from our earlier discussion. I’ve got a couple of guys building a coffin, and I’ve got a backhoe ready to dig a hole as soon as it stops raining. That’s supposed to be this evening, so we’ll dig the hole tomorrow. There’s a sort of deserted spot about a hundred meters off the road near the beach drop-off behind the bunkhouse area. It’s too close to the beach to be built up, so it should be deserted in the future.” He shrugged. “Mister Shockley and I looked it over the other day. Can’t say as I’ve ever designed a graveyard before.”

Bellingham gave his engineer a wry look but didn’t say anything. It was Jennifer who spoke up. “Sir, if I could say something?”

“Of course.”

“Sir, I was talking to Travis earlier and he told me what Lars and Torvald were talking about, the funeral, I mean. I have a suggestion. I know the plan is for some sort of military funeral, though I don’t know what that means. I would, however, suggest we do as big a military funeral as we can do.”

“Why?”

“Give me a moment, sir.” Bellingham nodded and she continued, “Let me start by stating that the one thing everybody asks about the Vikings is where did they go? What happened to them? The answer to that is that they never left. We still have Vikings; we just call them Norwegians, Swedes, and Danes. You see, Vikings were not a separate people. Viking was a job description. The Norsemen were fishermen and farmers and sailors and carpenters and everything else. When they had the time and ability, they would go raiding. The Norse word for a raider or a pirate is vikingr. It was just a job. Maybe they would get the spring planting in, and they would have all summer before they had to gather in the crops. Perfect time to go raiding.”

“Is that true, Mister Ropstad?” Bellingham asked.

“Yes, sir. They would go aviking. Sir, if the only people from Scandinavia you met were raiders, wouldn’t you call them Raiders? And then, when they stopped raiding, wouldn’t you wonder what happened to the Raiders?”

“Okay. Where are you going with this, Miss Wiltshire?”

“The follow-up question is, why did the Norsemen stop raiding? Why did they stop going aviking? The main reason is that it stopped being profitable to them. When the Norsemen first started raiding, it was the late 700s and early 800s. At that time, England was very disorganized. England had something like seven or eight kingdoms, and they spent more time fighting each other than fighting the invaders. Scotland and Ireland were even more disorganized. The British Isles were easy pickings when the Vikings showed up.”