Epilogue

A Year Later

Lars Ropstad got onto the A1M heading north from Cambridge. Whenever he got into a car in Britain, he always wondered if he would remember to drive on the left side of the road. It felt so alien to the way he had been brought up. The right side of the road, what he considered the right side, was the wrong side in England. He knew that one day he would slip up and end up going the wrong way on a road someday.

He had first thought that when the ferry that had brought the Vikings and him to Newcastle had docked. While Cudlow B was a British island, there was only a single gravel road around the island and traffic was almost non-existent. That was not the case in Newcastle-on-Tyne. A large double-decker bus had been waiting on the pier for them, a ‘luxury motor coach’ as it was called. Lars had been worried that the Norsemen would be afraid of getting on a big bus, but by that time they were almost catatonic with what they had been seeing. As the Sudreyjar had sailed into Newcastle, the Vikings could do little more than stare.

Jennifer had googled ‘largest cities in England’ and told him and Travis that Newcastle was the sixteenth largest city in England, with a population of about a million, which was probably greater than the population of the entire Scandinavian peninsula at the time Torvald led his fleet from Olaf’s Fjord. Sailing into the port had defined ‘mind-blowing’ for the Norsemen. The ships that were vastly larger than the ferry, the buildings and piers lining the River Tyne, the bridges over the river, all had been beyond anything the Norsemen could have imagined. They didn’t even have words in Old Norse for what they were seeing. When they docked at the ferry pier, they were so awestruck they didn’t even complain about getting inside a bus.

The bus ride from Newcastle to York was equally incredible. They had considered the gravel road on Cudlow B a sign of a wealthy lord; paved multilane highways were just beyond their comprehension. The motor coach itself was so large that all of the Norsemen, Travis, Jennifer, and Lars could fit inside comfortably, along with a guide who gave a travel monologue that Lars was hard put to translate. The adults were astonished; the children were fascinated. The bus and its accompanying tractor-trailer pulling the twenty-foot container were sandwiched between police vehicles. The police tried, not always successfully, to keep the paparazzi away. Some managed to slip through, usually riding on the back of motorcycles, occasionally sitting backwards, as a driver weaved in and out of traffic.

In York they pulled up to a large apartment-style building. Almost immediately paparazzi descended on them, some who had been following them and others who had been staking out the University of York. Police officers tried to keep the photographers back while others formed a double line and hustled everybody into the building. The Vikings ended up in a large common room and were very confused by what was happening.

Things settled down after that, though. A smiling man in a gray suit found the modern arrivals and asked who the interpreter was. “That would be me, Lars Ropstad.”

The smiling man stuck out his hand. “Please to meet you. I’m Thomas Rutherford. I’m with the university and I’m here to welcome the, uh...”

“Norsemen,” answered Lars.

“Thank you. The Norsemen. I’m here to welcome the Norsemen to York and the University of York. Would you be able to translate for me?”

“I can try. I have to warn you, though, that if you get very technical, Old Norse simply won’t have the words for it.”

Rutherford nodded. “I’m sure. My understanding, though, is that is part of what we are going to do here. Not only will we help the Norsemen learn modern English, but by doing so, we will introduce them to new concepts and new words to define them.”

“I think you are right.”

“Let’s get started. Once I have said hello, we’ll see about getting their gear unloaded and getting them settled in.”

Lars nodded and followed Rutherford to the front of the room. “Líka, setja niðr. Vér hafeinnhverrr maðr hí til mæltilr oss.” {"Please, sit down. We have somebody here to talk to us."}

With that, Lars, Travis, and Jennifer urged the Vikings to sit down in the chairs set up. Rutherford welcomed everybody to both York and the University of York. He pointed to some people at the edge of the room and introduced them as their teachers, and then told how they would be housed. They were in a section of a hall of residence called Langstrom College. There was a mix of single rooms with some shared bathrooms for the single men and larger suite-style rooms for the families. Importantly, they would have several large kitchens exclusively available to them. Their wing would be separated by some locked doors that would be installed shortly. Otherwise, the remainder of the college would be taken up by regular university students.

The audience mostly had no idea what Lars was telling them, but he just kept repeating, “ Gereigir munu hugsjúkr. Þú munu fregna ok ek munu fylgjagð.” {"Do not be worried. You will learn and I will help."} Afterwards, some workmen unloaded the pallets from the container and the sea chests and duffel bags were sorted out and the Norsemen were assigned their rooms. The crates containing weapons were placed in a locked storage room. Afterwards, Jennifer led everybody outside for a brief walk around the campus.

That was an exercise in madness for some. The paparazzi lurking outside immediately descended on them, which confused the hell out of the Vikings. Fortunately, they couldn’t understand what the photographers and reporters were asking them, since none of them were fluent in Old Norse. They hung around them like bothersome gnats, mostly staying out of reach. One of them didn’t, however, and got close enough to grab Helga by the arm and try to get her to pose for him. He was not expecting Torvald to grab him and lift him off his feet and throw him to the ground. Travis and Lars managed to keep Torvald from killing the photographer and stood him up.

Lars told him, “You are very lucky. In medieval Norway, grabbing another man like that could cost you a hand. Taking a man’s wife or child would get your throat slit.” Then, as Travis and Torvald held the paparazzi still, Lars pulled his KA-Bar from its sheath. He studied it for a moment, considering the wickedly sharp edge the Norsemen had taught him to create, and put it to the photographer’s neck. He smiled as the paparazzi’s bodily functions failed and then slid it under the camera strap and cut the strap. Lars caught the expensive camera as it fell and then swung it by the cut strap and smashed it to the ground, destroying it. He put his knife away and they threw the man away from the group. Around him, the other Norsemen loudly congratulated Lars.

Travis commented that no good deed went unpunished. The photographer would assuredly sue Lars and the other Norsemen. Lars simply shrugged and smiled. “A direct approach is not a bad thing,” he replied.

Once Lars and the Norsemen settled in, Lars called his parents and invited the family to visit York. He wasn’t at all surprised when his mother demanded he come home. “Lars, enough of this. Your job, whatever it was, is over. Those Vikings, or whoever they are, are in England. You can come home now.”

“Mom, it’s more complicated than that.”

There were several minutes of pointless back and forth before Lars’ mother turned the phone over to her husband. “Here, you talk to him. I’m only his mother!” She stomped out of the room.

“What’s going on, Lars? I only got a piece of it, but your mother’s not happy. Why can’t you come home?” he asked.

“Dad, I might not be back for a while. I got a job offer here. They want me to keep translating and help teach the Norsemen English.”

“And they are paying for this? I thought they were going to pay for your college back here in Manchester.”

“They offered to pay tuition at Cambridge University. Tuition, books, room and board, whatever, plus a stipend,” answered Lars.

“Cambridge? The Cambridge? Like Oxford?”

“Yeah, that Cambridge. It’s a pretty big deal. I’ll be here for at least a year. I’ll be getting a degree in linguistics.”

Henrik Ropstad was stumped. His son was right, a degree from Cambridge was definitely a better degree than from a two-year community college. Still... “Linguistics?”

“Languages, that sort of thing. I know you and Mom want me to study engineering or science and get a job like that, but I just don’t like that stuff. If there is one thing this job has taught me it’s that I like languages and I want to do something with that. I don’t know what yet, but that interests me way more than math and science!”

“Well, it’s your life, I guess, but why can’t you come home, at least for a bit?”

Lars said, “It’s ... complicated. These guys, the Vikings, they are really nice people, but they are just totally lost. They haven’t got a clue what is happening half the time. I need to be with them twenty-four-seven, I mean, all the time.”

“Lars, they can get along without you for a few days.”

“Yeah, probably, at least in a few months, but ... Dad, there’s this girl...”

Henrik rolled his eyes, though his son couldn’t see him. “Lars, there are plenty of girls in Manchester! I will be very disappointed to find you thinking with your DICK!”

Lars cringed as he heard his father’s voice. Henrik was a mild-mannered man and his sons really had to work at it to get him to raise his voice. “Dad, no, it’s not like that, or maybe it is, but this girl is special. I’ve never met anyone like her. I just know I need to be here, with her, helping her people.”

“Is she pregnant?”

“No, Dad! It’s not like that! These people, no, that’s not something they take lightly. I told her I wouldn’t do that with her until, well, until I was sure,” said Lars.

“Do you love her?” his father asked.

“I don’t know,” Lars admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to ... this girl is like supermodel beautiful, it’s just, I don’t know, Dad. There is something about her that makes me want to be with her all the time. I want you guys to meet her.”

“Lars, this is insane!”

“I know, Dad. You’re right. It’s insane, but it’s what I want to do.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“That’s another thing, Dad,” said Lars. “Uh, the Vikings, they’re not Christians. They’re pagans. They believe in Odin and Thor and all that Norse mythology stuff we learned in school.”

“You really know how to pick ‘em, Lars. I thought it was bad enough when that girl in high school got her boyfriend to punch you out! What does her father think about you? Are we about to find you in some godawful Viking torture ceremony?” asked Henrik.

“No, Torvald is pretty cool with it. He wants to know when he can meet you, so the two of you can negotiate the bride-price.”

“WHAT?”

“Don’t worry. I can probably sort that out. I’ve already told him we don’t do that anymore. Listen, do me a favor and pack up all my clothes and some other stuff and send it here. I’ll text you the address.”

“Lars, I have no idea how I am going to explain any of this to your mother.”

“I love you guys. Tell it to the Useless Ones, too. Gotta go. Bye!”

“Bye.” Henrik hung up the phone and rubbed his face. Marta was never going to understand this.

Travis left the group the day after the Vikings moved into York. Jennifer told Lars that they were going to try to maintain a long-distance romance, but she wasn’t sure how that would work out. Lars nodded in understanding. He had seen some friends try that and fail, and that was simply between Manchester, New Hampshire, and Boston, Massachusetts. An intercontinental romance would have to be even more difficult. Before he left, Travis made sure to give Lars a business card with his phone number and email address on it.

The altercation with the photographer didn’t end with the destruction of the camera. The entire event was recorded and appeared on BBC News that evening. The photographer wanted to have Travis, Torvald, and Lars arrested but was laughed away by the police, who countered with a possible charge of assault for manhandling Helga. A civil suit, however, was promised. In a wonderful example of wolves turning on each other, several of the paparazzi managed to sell photos of the stained pants of the photographer who had pissed and shit himself.

A day later Thomas Rutherford, the university official who had welcomed the Norsemen to York, came to Lars and said, “Mister Ropstad, you would not believe the level of interest the press has in the Vikings.”

“Mister Rutherford, I’m amazed they haven’t stormed the building yet.”

“We need to do something! Can we have the press come in for interviews or something? Maybe we can control it somehow.”

“I can ask, but how would that work? They don’t speak English and I don’t imagine any reporters know conversational Old Norse,” replied Lars.

Rutherford sighed. “Well, we need to do something.”

Lars just shrugged.

Two days later Rutherford returned with a proposal. “I’ve talked to somebody I know at Channel 4. They have suggested an interview with Piers Morgan talking to you and Mister Gunnarson. He’s the Viking leader, right?”

“Yes, Torvald would be the man to talk to, though I’ll have to do the translating. I can ask, anyway. When would this be?”

Rutherford answered, “Soon! Maybe a couple of days. We can do it at a studio here on campus.”

“I can ask.”

“Thank you.” Rutherford left and Lars went in search of Torvald.

The Viking agreed to an interview, though he didn’t really understand what was being asked. “Hví er þessi mest-háttar, Lars?” {"Why is this important, Lars?"}

“Fólk eru mjök fregnvíss. Manngi veitir hvernig þessi verða. Hvernig gerði þú ok fleiriinn fólk komhír? vér gereigir veit svarrinn.” {"People are very curious. Nobody knows how this happened. How did you and the others come here? We don’t know the answer."} Lars went on to explain that Travis and the others still couldn’t understand what had happened, though they knew it had something to do with the disk they all saw.

“Munu þú munu þar?” {"Will you be there?"}

“Torvald, Ek standmitr þér.” {"Torvald, I stand with you."}

Torvald smiled and nodded, and then clapped Lars on the shoulder. “ Ja. Vér gerþessir.”

With the response of ‘We do this’ Lars told Rutherford to set up the interview. Then he went to check the packages his parents had FedExed to him. He needed something better than British Army camo pants and a t-shirt if he was going to be on television. Jennifer agreed, and told him to get a haircut, too. She took over as ‘image consultant’ for Lars and Torvald. Lars was to get the suit his parents had sent him cleaned and pressed. Torvald, on the other hand, was ordered to have his original Norse clothing cleaned and any tears repaired, a job for Helga and the other women. Then she ordered them both to get a haircut, which almost caused Torvald to balk. Most of the Viking men had stopped braiding their hair on Cudlow B after it became apparent they weren’t going back to the Ninth Century, but their hair was still quite long. Jennifer didn’t care; she dragged the pair off to a stylist her mother knew, and had the flamboyantly gay Mister Rolando cut and style their hair. She also had him work on Torvald’s beard. Viking beards were never as long and straggly as what was shown on television and the movies, but a deft trim was still needed. Lars was ordered to shave and trim his stubble into a mustache and goatee

Helga ooohed when she saw Lars’ new look. Torvald’s appearance took a bit longer to appreciate, but she nodded after a few minutes. “Þú lítgóðr, Faðir. Ólíkr, en góð.” {"You look good, Father. Different, but good."} Several of the other women agreed with her, though just as many of the men laughed. Torvald made a rude gesture to them.

As far as Lars was concerned, the interview was an exercise in idiocy. As an American, he had no real idea who Piers Morgan was. Morgan tried to work around Lars by talking directly to Torvald. He knew that Torvald didn’t speak English, but he had the perfect plan. He had a staffer type up some questions on cue cards. He started by saying, “Wilcumian!” which simply had Lars and Torvald looking at each other curiously. He followed that with, “Yfel êadiglicmêtan êower.” which confused them even more.

Lars said, “Excuse me, but what language is that?”

Morgan gave an affronted look. “Old Norse, of course! I said, ‘Welcome, I am glad to meet you.’”

“Uh, could I see those cards. Please?” Lars made a long arm and pulled the cards from the host’s hand. He glanced through them and passed them back. “Thank you. Did you prepare these?”

“Why?”

“That’s not Old Norse. That’s Anglo-Saxon, a variation of Old English and Old Saxon. Torvald doesn’t speak any of those languages.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, sir.”

Morgan’s face reddened, and he set the cards on a side table. It was obvious he wanted to restart the interview, but they were broadcasting live, so that wasn’t a choice. He slapped a smile on his face and said, “Well, the sentiment is the same, welcome, I am glad to meet you.”

Lars translated and Torvald said, “Þakka,” which Lars translated as ‘Thank you.’ That was how it went for the rest of the interview. After a few minutes Lars and Torvald became comfortable with the format.

The interview had a couple of unexpected results. The recorded version was scanned by linguists across the British Isles and analyzed intensely. First, it was reported that Lars Ropstad was completely fluent in Old Norse and had an excellent understanding of the other languages he had been questioned about. This boded well for his interest in getting a Cambridge degree in linguistics, which had also been reported.

Much more amusing was when a transcript of the interview was published. Students at both Oxford and Cambridge cranked up their translators and dusted off their dictionaries and created a transcript of Lars’ and Torvald’s private conversations. Among the remarks that were printed:

TG: We already answered that question.

LR: Yes, but he thinks he is important and likes to hear himself talk. Now, smile!

and

TG: He really isn’t very smart.

LR: No, not really. Smile!

and

TG: Why did we do this?

LR: I sometimes wonder. Smile!

After each little conversation, Lars and Torvald would smile, and Lars would answer the question, no matter how inane. Morgan never caught on. The tabloids happily reported all of this, including Morgan’s irate response. Lars’ parents called him when the interview and the transcript made the US networks and papers. Henrik thought Lars had done well; Marta told him that he looked very nice, and she liked his haircut and beard.

The first two months at the University of York almost made Lars quit and run back to New Hampshire more than once. He needed to be with the classes constantly, not just acting as a translator, but also acting as a psychologist and cheerleader. Over and over, he heard complaints about how it was impossible to learn the language, how it was wrong that they couldn’t carry knives and weapons, how they had to obey silly traffic laws, and so forth. Lars kept repeating to them over and over, if they wanted to use the magic black stones that could talk to each other, they needed to learn to read and write, since the words and numbers were all in English. If they wanted to drive a car, they needed to be able to read the road signs and take written tests in English. Finally, if they wanted to meet women, they needed to speak English.

Some parts of university life were quite awkward for the Norsemen. They were culturally conservative, much more so than their English hosts and fellow students. The dress code was far more lenient than the average Viking was comfortable with. Men wearing shorts was bad enough, but women wearing shorts, short skirts, and bikinis was beyond the pale. Lars had more than one conversation with outraged Norse men and women, telling them, in effect, ‘Welcome to England!’ Men and women could dress as they liked, and the Vikings were to mind their own business and keep their mouths shut! Meanwhile, maybe they could lighten up. England was warmer than Norway and lighter clothing would be a lot more comfortable.

Part of the problem was that they simply didn’t have a wide choice of clothing. When they arrived in York, the Vikings had whatever clothing was in the sea chests they brought from Olaf’s Fjord, as well as a mix of British Army uniform items they had been provided on B. Lars was able to arrange trip to a local Matalan for some inexpensive clothing. The styles were considerably more modern. On the plus side, everybody loved sneakers and running shoes. They were much more comfortable than anything the Vikings had.

Most nights Lars would collapse in his room, exhausted. Helga began despairing that Lars would ever commit to her. Then, after almost two months, two things happened which changed Lars’ despair to hope. First, he managed to save enough of his stipend to be able to purchase an ancient Mini Cooper. With that he was able to show the Vikings both that it was possible to get a car, and that owning a car required learning English.

A more important event didn’t involve Lars at all. Jennifer had introduced the Norsemen to her family by taking them over to their pub, The Duke’s Mistress. The Wiltshires enthusiastically hosted the Norsemen and invited them back frequently; their novelty led to quite a few customers coming in, hoping to see or meet the Vikings. Since then, it was not unusual for the single men to go over after class or work for a pint. The important event occurred on a Saturday evening about seven weeks after arriving in York. Imar Kalbek was perhaps the best English speaker of the unmarried Vikings, though that was a very low standard. That Saturday evening, Imar was sitting with several of his fellow unmarried Vikings when several unattached women began trying to chat them up. Most of the Vikings couldn’t understand what was being said, but Imar caught just enough to be able to talk back to them.

Twenty minutes later Imar went to the toilets and disappeared. Nobody knew where he had gone, and he wasn’t in the building. Lars was called to the pub, along with the police, who announced that it was too early to declare Imar a missing person. The mystery was solved early Sunday morning when a good-looking brunette dropped Imar off outside Langstrom at dawn. Imar had a dazed and happy look on his face as he dragged himself inside; he was missing his socks, and his shirt was misbuttoned and only half tucked in. He had used the three condoms he had taken with him, and the brunette had used another two of her own. It was universally agreed that Imar had made Norse history, and the other Vikings all decided that learning English might be a good idea after all.

The condoms had been part of a semi-formal birth control class that Lars was asked to teach, along with a nurse from the NHS. They started with the unmarried men and then repeated the class with the married couples. Lars and the nurse began with a banana and a carton of condoms, which got a lot of laughter, but proved the simplest way to explain what was involved. Then, with the women, the nurse added the pill and IUDs and other methods of birth control to the banana lesson. Una was about eight months along by that point, and she made more than a few comments to the various husbands about not having quite so many children in the future. The nurse commented that child mortality had dropped from half of all children under five at the time of the Vikings to only a few in a thousand; she commented that proper use of birth control would not lessen the frequency or enjoyment of marital relations, which also generated a few pithy comments from the ladies.

Once the Norsemen began speaking English, even if only minimally, they were able to begin looking for work and Lars wasn’t required to be with them twenty-four hours a day. The obvious potential employer was the Jorvik Viking Centre, who wanted the Norsemen to spend time at the museum and become part of the attraction. Lars translated as needed. The best part, as far as he was concerned, was when Bjorn the Younger asked, “ Hvernig mjök munu þeir gjalda oss?” {"How much will they pay us?"} Lars eagerly passed along the question, and he and Torvald negotiated a ‘consultation agreement’ that had the better English-speaking Vikings assisting. That provided some income to assist the Vikings in earning some money along with the unemployment benefits, or dole, they were getting from the government.

The income from the Viking Centre was just one possible source of funding. Lars and Jennifer were contacted by many collectors looking to buy ‘official Viking antiques’, even though the antiques weren’t that old, at least to the Vikings themselves. The coins they brought with them, their weapons, and even their clothing were considered valuable. Even the wreckage of the Frijhof had somebody looking to buy it.

Torvald asked, “ Einnhverr maðr villir til kaupa Frijhofinn? Hvat munu þeir germitr því?” {"Somebody wants to buy the Frijhof? What would they do with it?”}

Lars shrugged. “Hverr veitir? Hrósa þeir stýra Víkingr skip?” {"Who knows? Boast they own a Viking ship?"}

“Hvat skulu vér gera?” {"What should we do?"}

Jennifer said, “Tell Torvald to wait. Nothing good will come of rushing to do something. Their weapons, for instance, they are part of the Viking culture we are trying to keep together. It is part of what makes them Norse. They can always sell things later if they need to.”

Lars nodded and told Torvald what Jennifer said. Torvald agreed and said he would mention this to the others.

The Frijhof came up for discussion several weeks later. Billy Turnbull, the British MI5 agent, contacted Lars and explained that an engineering company had traveled to B with equipment and a barge. They had wrapped the Frijhof in plastic and loaded it onto the barge, and then towed it to England. What did the Vikings want done with it?

Torvald was somewhat upset by this since he still considered the wreck of the longship his property. Lars simply smiled and asked him, “ Munu þat segl einn sinni meiri?” {"Will it sail once more?"}

“Nei.”

Lars nodded. The ship had a broken keel; it would have to be completely dismantled to replace the keel. “ Svá, gera nrýr skip ok einnhverr maðr til dýrt kaupa fyrir þat!” {"So, build a new ship and get somebody to pay for it!"}

“Hvat!” {"What!"}

Lars explained how the Norsemen could build a new longship. They could get the Jorvik Centre and the University to provide the materials and a place to do it. They would take pictures and movies and show how it was done in medieval Norway - and they would pay the Norsemen as well! That made Torvald stop and think. The next thing Lars knew, Torvald dragged him along as he spoke to a few of the others. He explained that Bjorn the Elder was a better shipwright than he was; if Bjorn the Elder said it could be done, the university and the museum could have the wreck. A new ship could be built over the winter. In the summer, Lars could take a sea voyage with them!

Torvald and Bjorn the Elder dragged Lars along to meet somebody at the Centre. An hour later it was decided that the barge would be towed up the Rivers Ouse and Foss, where it would be offloaded in an empty space near Rowntree Park. The plan was to eventually erect a building over it so the plastic could be removed. The University and the Jorvik Viking Centre would sort out who would have claim to it.

The Vikings struggled to maintain their ways in their new home. One aspect that worked for them, at least financially, was the definite split between male and female roles in the household. Men went out and worked; women stayed home and looked after the children, cooked, and cleaned. The cooking was done in several large kitchens, and meals were often eaten communal style. Within a few weeks, some of the other students in Langstrom noticed the delicious smells coming from the Viking kitchens and managed to sample some of the meals. The consensus was that it was better than the meal plans available at the university. A few of them asked if they could buy a lunch or a dinner. Lars explained the idea to the wives, who were astonished at the idea, and somewhat scandalized. It was the men who went out and earned the money, not the women! Lars discussed this with Torvald, Floki, and a few of the other husbands and a compromise was reached. The money they earned would be paid to the husbands, who would immediately turn it over to their wives. Lars wasn’t at all sure of the legality of this, especially considering they weren’t paying any taxes on their sales, but the Norsemen certainly weren’t worried about it. He promptly found himself driving a wife or two over to the nearest Tesco supermarket to bring back groceries in the Mini Cooper. Again, he stressed that if they learned English and learned to drive, they would be able to do all that without him to help.