Free Norse Valor by Constantine De Bohon Page B

he was a curious man. He wanted to know everything about the future—her
life, her parents. He asked more questions than a six-year-old. At times she
didn’t know whether to laugh or pull her hair out.
    Svana had taken all of the tomatoes she could salvage. It
was a good thing the natives were proficient in packing or all would have been
rotted through. She cooked off their skins. The seeds had been squeezed out and
she had added spices as well as different spices in a cheese cloth. She was
making ketchup to go with the French fries for their dinner. The day before,
she had used a few of their precious egg yolks, oil, salt and pepper to make
mayonnaise and made potato salad.
    The potatoes and the pumpkins were being put to good use.
Daily, she was instructing the village women on the culinary arts of modern
living, well at least some modern eating. Helga, Vakr’s mom, had made a
flatbread and the ketchup that was like a sauce made a nice pizza with goat
cheese Vakr’s mother had been saving and meat toppings. Vakr and many of his
warriors had gone hunting and were able to snag an elk. Unfortunately there
wasn’t enough to dry and save for later. The village once more needed meat.
Also the hull stores wouldn’t last forever. Their village could once more go
hungry if something else didn’t come along.
    The ketchup wouldn’t last long either and Svana had set
aside apple cider and yeast with garlic and other spices covered with cheese
cloth. She was making vinegar. Svana tasted the ketchup. It was good, but
nothing like what she was used to. The villagers thought it tasted amazing.
Svana had kept seeds and was very hopeful the soil would yield tomato plants in
the summer.
    Svana thought their lives to be a bit lonely. Every day the
women came and asked for some kind of help then left. Vakr needed to translate
for her less and less. But the storms kept them indoors a great deal. Vakr said
it would end, that not many months were blistering cold and she needed to have
some patience. David was out of patience. He snarled and snapped at there being
no TV or games or the yacht or a multitude of women his wealth could dazzle. He
didn’t like sleeping in the same hut as Helga who apparently mothered him to death . He complained about the
endless potatoes. Mashed potatoes, potato bread, boiled, steamed, baked, potato
salad, fries and potato soup and potato pancakes, potato skins. What he
wouldn’t give for filet mignon and broccoli covered in cheese sauce or even a
peanut butter sandwich.
    “Vakr?” Svana asked.
    “Hm?”
    “Why don’t you tap your own trees for syrup?”
    “We’re warriors, hunters and farmers,” he replied.
    “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
    “Our trees are not as sweet, or so I’m told.”
    Svana walked over to him and griped his chin in her hand.
“Well you’re gonna find out, honey. The sap should be running now.”
    Vakr smiled at her, removed her hand and downed some ale
from a rolled birch bark cup. There was a knock at the door. Ari strode in
followed by his son, Njall. Svana liked the boy; he was going to be as handsome
as his father one day and probably just as large. Svana sat the boy at the
table and encouraged him to try the fries and ketchup.
    “Well?” she asked.
    “Very good,” Njall replied with enthusiasm.
    Svana chuckled. “A hit with teens in any era.”
    Ari helped himself to food as well. Most often, Ari and
Njall ate with David and Vakr while Helga and Svana fussed over them. Svana had
grown fond of Ari. Vakr and he had seemed to settle their differences and Svana
was happy for them both. Both men were much the same. Gentle giants.
    “Where is David?” Svana asked. Ari had been teaching him
swordplay along with his son.
    Ari grinned. “Kitta stopped him to say hello.”
    “Oh no,” Svana said. “Is her brother nearby?”
    “Her brother is always nearby,” Ari said. “Don’t worry, Koli
still suffers from hearing loss and is keeping some