To Arnis, who would be a-Viking in Saxon lands, he said, “If you get a chance, go to Ravenshire where Lady Eadyth is a famed beekeeper. She is married to a Viking, Tykir’s brother Eirik. Joy has it in her head to try beekeeping here. See if Lady Eadyth can give you some hives to start us off.”
“Odin’s teeth, Brandr! I am off to plunder, not do girling errands for your ladylove.”
“I heard that,” Joy said, coming up to them.
Brandr tucked her in to his side with an arm over her shoulder.
“You will do as you are told, Arnis. And besides, you will be the first to slurp up all the mead from their honey come summer.”
He exchanged “Godspeed” with Arnis, too.
It was the priest-soldier’s turn to say his good-byes, and Brandr was not surprised that Joy started bawling once again. It tore at his heart to see her so unhappy.
After about the tenth hug, Father Mendozo said to her, “Are you sure you do not want to return with me?”
She shook her head, to his great relief. “I’m just sad to see you go, knowing . . . well, knowing I probably won’t see you again. Will you do me a favor, JAM? Will you go to my brothers and tell them that I’m okay? I’m sure they’re worried about me, probably think I’m dead. My death on top of Matt’s would be devastating to them.”
Father Mendozo nodded. “Should I tell them the truth?”
“You can, though I doubt that they would believe you. I know . . . tell them to do some historical research, and see if they can find the name of a brave Viking warrior named Matthew Brandrsson. That should be proof enough.”
He and Father Mendozo both turned to stare at her with furrowed brows.
“That will be the name of my first son,” she declared.
Brandr squeezed her shoulder, too choked up to speak.
An hour later, he and Joy were the only ones left on the wharf watching the longships bearing the Bear’s Lair flags disappear in the distance.
This was such an important turning point in Joy’s life. She was giving up so much for him, and he was not sure how to handle her pain. With care, of course. However, he did not want to do anything to upset her more.
But then she surprised him with the words:
“Let’s go home, honey.”
Glossary—SEALs
boondockers.
Heavy boots.
BUD/S.
Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training.
Budweiser.
The trident pin worn by Navy SEALs.
CENTCOM.
Central Command.
collateral damage.
Inadvertent casualties and destruction inflicted on civilians in the course of a military operation.
Coronado (California).
The West Coast site of the U.S. Naval Amphibious Base and the Naval Special Warfare Center, where BUD/S are trained. The other SEAL training center is located in Little Creek, Virginia. Coronado is also home to the famous Hotel del Coronado.
cover your six.
Cover your back.
DOR.
Drop on request.
FUBAR.
Fucked up beyond all recognition.
Gig Squad.
A punishment inflicted during BUD/S where a SEAL trainee is forced to spend hours, after the evening meal and a long day of training, outside the officers’ head-quarters. doing many strenuous exercises, including the infamous duck squat.
grinder.
The blacktopped area where PT takes place, along with the O-course, on the SEAL training arena at Coronado.
high and tight.
Standard military haircut.
Look and See.
Reconnaissance mission whereby the operators penetrate enemy territory, identify the targets, and depart without being seen.
MRE.
Meal ready to eat.
NSW.
Naval Special Warfare.
O-course.
Obstacle course on the training compound, also referred to as the Oh-My-God course.
PT.
Physical training.
scruffies.
Lowest of the low in military training.
SEAL.
Acronym for Sea, Air and Land, est. 1962.
Sims.
Short for Simunitions, paint bullets that emulate live ammunition, down to short-range ballistics and cyclic rates of fire.
snafu.
Situation normal all fucked up.
SOCOM.
U.S. Special Operations Command.
SOF.
Special Operations Forces.
tango.
Terrorist or bad guy.
UA.
Unauthorized absence, equivalent of AWOL in the Navy and Marines.
WARCOM.
Warfare Command, as in Naval Special Warfare Command.
XO.
Executive officer.
Glossary—Vikings
Althing.
An assembly of free people that makes laws and settles disputes. It is like a Thing but much larger, involving delegates from various parts of a country, not just a single region.
Birka.
Market town where Sweden is now located.
braies.
Long, slim pants worn by men, usually tied at the waist; also called breeches.
drukkinn.
Drunk.
gunna.
Long-sleeved, ankle-length gown for women, often worn under a tunic or surcoat or long, open-sided apron.
Hedeby.
Market town where Germany is now located.
hird.
Troop, war band.
Hordaland.
Norway.
jarl.
High-ranking Norseman, similar to an English earl or a wealthy landowner; could also be a chieftain or minor king.
Jorvik.
Viking-age York in Britain.
Jutland.
Denmark.
karl.
One rank below a jarl.
nithing.
One of the greatest of Norse insults, indicating that a man is less than nothing.
Norsemandy.
Vikings ruled what would later be called Normandy. To them, it was Norsemandy.
odal right.
Law of heredity.
sagas.
Oral history of the Norse people, passed on from ancient history onward.
sennight.
One week.
skalds.
Poets or storytellers who composed and told the sagas, which were the only means of recording ancient Norse history, since there was almost no written word then.
straw death.
To die in bed (mattresses stuffed with straw), rather than in battle, which was more desirable.
Thing.
An assembly of freemen called together to discuss problems and settle disputes; forerunner of the English judicial system; like district courts of today.
thrall.
Slave.
Keep reading for a special preview of the next novel by Sandra Hill,
Even Vikings Get the Blues
Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!
Double or nothing . . .
With a loud
whoosh
, Rita Sawyer’s body went up in flames and she prepared to catapult through the fifteenth-floor window of the burning skyscraper. The whole time she pondered whether she’d have the time, or the inclination, to shave her legs before her date this evening with her ex-husband’s brother.
Well, it wasn’t a date exactly. Darron wanted her to meet the latest love of his life, Dirk Severino.
Darron and Dirk. Doesn’t that say it all?
In addition, he was bringing along the “perfect man” for her. His words. Presumably heterosexual, and with a job. Absolute essentials for her as a twenty-nine-year-old veteran in the dating wars.
Darron was suffering major post-divorce guilt . . . on his brother Scott’s behalf . . . and had made it his mission in life to find Rita a mate to make up for his hound dog brother’s betrayal during Scott and Rita’s short-lived marriage. To her embarrassment, after plying her with Fuzzy Navels last week, Darron had discovered that she hadn’t been with a man in more than two years, not since the divorce. It was none of his business, of course, but Darron was a busybody from way back.
To be honest, she was still raw and angry over Scott’s infidelity, whether it was one time, as he’d laughably claimed, or dozens, as she rightly suspected. Adultery was adultery in her book. She’d seen what it had done to her mother. Rita had suffered the pain herself.
She’d known Scott since kindergarten. Darron, too, who was the younger brother. She’d seen Scott at his worst, and it wasn’t even when she’d caught him in bed with a fellow physician. Therefore, she shouldn’t have been surprised when he’d turned out to be an adulterous snot when he grew up. Females had been drawn to his blond good looks from a young age. As if that was any excuse!
Actually, she had her own ulterior motive for meeting with Darron tonight. He was a top-notch financial advisor, and Rita was facing monumental money problems since her mother had died and left her with medical bills out the wazoo. It wasn’t the long bout with cancer that had caused all the problems, but rather the experimental treatments not covered by insurance—for which Rita had gladly taken out loans—and the year she’d spent as a caretaker when she’d had no income. Unfortunately, it was all done in vain. Collection agencies now had her on speed dial. And, no, she still wouldn’t accept alimony from Scott the Snot.
“Scene three, take two. Lights! Camera! Ready! Action!” Larry Winters, the director of this latest spy thriller star-ring Jennifer Garner and Hugh Jackman, shouted through his bullhorn.
Jennifer went sailing through the glass and the air with expertise, landing on a trampoline that looked like the roof of another building, from which she then front-flipped onto yet another rooftop, which was actually a padded platform. Of course, it wasn’t really the fifteenth floor but rather the third, and it wasn’t really a skyscraper but rather a set prop, and it wasn’t really Jennifer Garner but rather Rita Sawyer, her stunt double.
“Cut!” the director yelled. “That’s a wrap! Great job, Rita!”
Immediately, a technician began hosing down her flames while others were peeling back her flameproof wig, her two nomex jumpsuits, and her gloves. Still others wiped the flame-retardant gel off her face.
“Hey, Rita. Got a minute?” Dean Witherow, the producer, called out to her. “I have a couple gentlemen who’d like to meet you.”
Noticing the two military types in the visitors’ area, probably consultants on the film, she rolled her eyes. Folks were fascinated with her after witnessing some of her stunts, especially men who fantasized about what she could do in bed.
Being a proud lady of the SWAMP, as in Stunt Women’s Association of Motion Pictures, she’d heard it all. One lawyer from Denver once asked, before they’d even gotten to the entree in a fancy Rodeo Drive restaurant, if she could do any kinky stunts during sex. Jeesh! And, yes, she could, actually. Not that she’d told him that.
After a quick shower in the doubles’ trailer and a change of clothes to jeans and an Aerosmith T-shirt, she walked up and let Dean introduce them. “This is Commander Ian MacLean and Lieutenant Jacob Mendozo. They’re Navy SEALs stationed at Coronado.”
SEALs, huh? I’ve heard they can be kinky on occasion. They’re certainly buff enough.
But then she chastised herself.
Unbelievable! I am flip-pin’ unbelievable. If I don’t go ga-ga over Hugh Jackman, why would I be ogling these two grunts?
Her eyes widened with interest, nevertheless. Like many others in this country, she had a proud appreciation for the good job SEALs did in fighting terrorism.
The one guy, the commander, was in his early forties, with a receding hairline that didn’t detract at all from his overall attractiveness. He was too somber for her tastes, though.
Lieutenant Mendozo, on the other hand, was
whoo-ee
sex personified. From his Hispanic good looks to his mischievous eyes, he was eye candy of the best sort. And she’d bet her sky-diving helmet that he knew his way around a bed, too.
Rita Sawyer, get your mind out of the gutter.
Maybe I am suffering from sex deprivation, like Darron thinks.
“Were either of you among those SEALs who got in trouble for riding horseback into Afghanistan a few years back? I saw it on CNN.”
Both men’s faces reddened.
“We don’t talk about that,” the commander said.