§ § § -- January 17, 2004
Benjamin Hulden was an attractive blond man with pale-blue eyes and looked to be in his early thirties; he was trim and fairly muscular from years of working on fishing trawlers and had the perpetual tan of those who make their living outdoors. He greeted Roarke and Leslie, commented on the study as so many guests did, congratulated Leslie on her pregnancy and three years of marriage to Christian, and then took the chair Roarke gestured toward. "I hate to sound like some kind of groupie or something," the Canadian chuckled, "but I was hoping maybe I could meet Prince Christian."
"Perhaps that can be arranged," Roarke said. "However, since you are obviously here to realize a fantasy, I think it might be prudent if you would tell us a little more about it."
"Right," said Hulden. "I just thought maybe Prince Christian would be interested in hearing about it too, since it's one of his ancestors."
Roarke and Leslie looked at each other, and she grinned. "I have a feeling he would," she remarked. "I may as well call him over."
When she had made the call and Christian had told her he was on his way, Roarke had refreshments brought out, then studied their guest. "How did you become interested in this particular event?" he asked.
"Partly on account of my ancestry," Hulden told them, "and partly because I have an interest in the royal family. It's the longest unbroken dynasty of any royal family on earth, and it amazes me that the current ruling queen is directly descended from the original king who founded the country over nine centuries ago. Not too many families can boast the ability to trace their lineage back that far, royal or not. The funny thing is that there are so many wild legends about the first three or four generations of jordiska royals. You'd think that…" He paused when Christian came in through the French shutters, and they all looked around; Hulden instantly stood up and bowed. "Your Highness!"
Leslie and Christian grinned at each other, and Christian came deeper into the room, extending a hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said, "but you really need not call me that."
Hulden shook hands. "I know, but it doesn't seem right not to," he said, shrugging.
Christian laughed. "You're not the only one," he said. "So what can I do for you, Mr. Roarke? And you, my darling, how are you feeling?" He paused long enough to kiss Leslie.
"I'm fine, my love," she assured him. "This is Benjamin Hulden, from Nova Scotia, and he has a fantasy that involves a certain ancestor of yours."
"Oh, this sounds interesting," Christian remarked, taking a seat and helping himself to some of the juice Mariki had brought out. "Which one?"
"Prince Ulf Magnusson," Hulden said, and Christian's eyes widened.
"Oh? Ormsskägg's hapless younger son? You must be quite a student of my family, to know about him." He caught Roarke's raised eyebrows and Leslie's perplexed look, and let out a laugh, wrapping one arm around his wife.
"Ormsskägg?" Hulden repeated blankly.
Leslie giggled and told him, "I'll have Christian explain it later. Right now, why don't you tell us about your fantasy—and why the prince was 'hapless', as Christian put it."
Hulden refilled his glass. "Right. Well, as I was saying, it's amazing how many weird little stories there are about the early royals. You'd think that someone would've tried to look into them and figure out what really happened. But this was the one that intrigued me the most. It seems Prince Ulf Magnusson was kind of a hard-luck type. He wasn't gonna get the throne, being the younger son, and I guess he never figured out what he was good at in life. When he finally discovered that he made a decent Viking captain and started carrying out raids, the era of the Viking was already on the wane and he couldn't expect to keep it up till retirement age, y'know? But he kept on trying, and some reports say he brought back some woman who came from somewhere in the Far East, something like that. He didn't make much of a name for himself, and he sure didn't get rich. He didn't even have that many followers."
"You should speak with my sister," Christian observed. "She's the family historian, and you two could compare notes."
Hulden grinned at that. "I wonder if she'd know anything about Prince Ulf's mysterious death. He just up and died, all of a sudden, and nobody ever recorded the cause of death. The records stated that he died, and that was that. But at the time he wasn't thirty yet, and even back in those days a lifespan could last plenty longer than that."
Roarke nodded. "Christian, do you have any other information?"
"Very little," said Christian. "As I said, he was the hapless younger son. There's no record that he married or sired children; actually there's almost nothing about him at all. His birth is mentioned in the family records, and the legend Mr. Hulden refers to suggests that his death was a suspicious one. So it's less a legend than an unsolved mystery, I suppose you could say. Since no one explained his manner of death, it's not even known where he died. That is, whether it was during one of his voyages, or perhaps in between."
"I did all the research I could," Hulden put in, "and found that there's a statement about his having died at sea. But that doesn't mean it was on a voyage. He could've fallen off the cliff behind the royal castle or something…" He cut himself off and shot Christian an embarrassed look. "Sorry, Your Highness."
Christian laughed again and said, "I remember telling someone once, years ago, that it's hard to feel related to a person who lived so many centuries before you did. It's more of a family murder mystery than anything to evoke sorrow, this many years removed from the actual event." He lifted his glass, asking, "What do you propose to do, then, solve the mystery for us?"
"That's what I'm hoping," Hulden replied with a nod as Christian drank some juice. "So what I'd like to do is go back to the early twelfth century and maybe figure out what really happened to Prince Ulf. Can you do that for me, Mr. Roarke?"
Roarke nodded. "I can, yes. However, I will need some time to prepare; so if you like, Mr. Hulden, you can relax at your bungalow, and Leslie will come for you when we are ready to send you back. Will that be satisfactory?"
"Absolutely," said Hulden with great anticipation. "Can't wait…thanks, Mr. Roarke!"
When he was gone, Roarke took in his daughter and son-in-law, then asked, "Christian, how do you feel about another trip back to your family's distant past?"
"I'm game," he said, "but quite honestly, Mr. Roarke, I think you had better leave Leslie out of this."
Leslie groaned, "Christian, I thought we settled this!"
"I still don't want you going back," he insisted. "I told you I've already mentioned this to Mr. Roarke, and I don't want you to argue with me about it. I know you won't go into labor, but something else could come up, and I don't want to take any chances. You are pregnant, and I just don't think you should be running around through time!"
Roarke cleared his throat and they both stared at him. "I realize you are concerned, Christian," he said, "but there is such a thing as being too careful."
"In the waning days of the Viking era?" Christian demanded incredulously. "I still say no! I don't know what I can say that would make either of you understand!"
Roarke sighed quietly, then said, "Very well, Christian. Since the thought of having Leslie with you seems to distress you so severely, so be it." He saw Leslie's mouth drop in outrage and lifted a hand. "Not a word, Leslie Susan. I think it might be wise to try to preserve some measure of decorum before we embark on this fantasy, and quite frankly, there is no time for another petty argument between the two of you in any case." He handed Leslie a slip of paper. "Please go and get these items from the storage room, if you will, and I'll prepare Christian for the trip back." Leslie took the page with a mutinous look in her eye, and on the way out of the room she blasted Christian with a fulminating glare that made him shake his head in exasperation.
"That stubborn wife of mine!" he murmured, though as always, his deep love for her underlay his frustration.
"My stubborn daughter married an equally stubborn prince," Roarke commented, "and there are days when I wonder how the marriage thrives as it does." Christian blinked, and he smiled. "Leslie is in less danger than you like to think, Christian. However, we won't discuss that now. There is too much to do to get you ready."
"How am I to fit into this fantasy?" Christian asked.
Roarke considered it. "Perhaps the wisest thing is to assign you to your ancestor's side, as an aide," he said slowly. "Your appearance can be altered enough that Mr. Hulden won't recognize you as your true self."
Christian stared at him. "Does that mean I'm going to die alongside my ancestor?"
"No, Christian," Roarke said, "the objective here is merely to solve the mystery of the young prince's death. Never fear, you'll come through this in safety. Ah, yes, thank you, Leslie." She had returned bearing a pile of furs, a pair of leather boots, an iron helmet and a sword in its scabbard. "If you will, please give those to Christian; and Christian, you may change in the time-travel room."
Christian took the clothing and went in to change; Leslie watched him, holding the helmet and sword, shaking her head. Roarke looked askance at her, and she muttered, "The nerve of him, forbidding me to do my job! Father, really, why do people flip out over a pregnancy? Everybody thinks that stuff I've done dozens of times before is going to kill me now that I'm expecting! It's too bad no one's that solicitous of my welfare when I'm not pregnant. There are days I just want to shake him till he gets some sense back."
"Be patient with him, Leslie," Roarke said with an amused, indulgent grin. "You know he worries about you. He simply wants to be certain you and the babies come through this pregnancy in one piece—all three of you."
"We will," she retorted, "if he doesn't smother us first!"
Roarke laughed, and at that point the door opened and Christian emerged, clad in his Viking-era clothes. "They fit well. I don't know how you do that." Roarke just smiled, and he gestured Leslie forward to join Christian in the time-travel room.
"In the time you are traveling to," he explained, "King Ormssvärd is deceased, and his son Thorsten Magnusson holds the throne. His widow, Gerda, will still be alive, and of course, you are aware that there were also two daughters whom you may meet. Are you ready?"
"I believe so," Christian said, attaching the scabbard to his leather belt and then carefully sliding the sword into it. He took the helmet from Leslie and experimentally tried it on while she and Roarke watched. For a moment he peered at them through the eyeholes, then removed it, staring at the inside. "It fits well enough, but it's going to be very uncomfortable if I have to wear it for prolonged periods," he remarked.
Roarke smiled. "Better discomfort than death," he said.
Christian raised an eyebrow. "True…" At this point Leslie reached for his hand and pulled his wedding ring off the third finger, then removed his Rolex. "Oh, thank you, my Rose…I had forgotten." He smiled at her.
She gave him a disgruntled look and muttered, "Dammit, Christian, just be careful and watch your back, all right?" She didn't wait for his response but turned and left the room. Christian looked at Roarke.
"Did she really wish to come?" he asked.
"Need you ask?" Roarke inquired whimsically, and Christian grinned sheepishly. "I believe you're ready. Allow ten seconds from the moment I leave this room, then go through that door there and close it behind you. You won't have to wait long."
In the study Roarke found Leslie standing near the desk, examining Christian's ring as if looking for secrets. She looked up when he came in and asked, "Father, honestly, do you really think it's such a good idea to let Christian go back there all alone?"
"No," said Roarke, surprising her. "Yet I have strong enough misgivings about sending you back that I hesitate."
Leslie gaped at him in disbelief. "Father, he's brainwashed you!"
"That will do, Leslie Susan," Roarke said firmly. "Please go to Mr. Hulden's bungalow and bring him back here, if you would." She shook her head, put the ring on Roarke's desk and left the house in silence.
When she returned with Benjamin Hulden, Roarke thanked her, then handed the man another pile of furs and leather along with a pair of boots. "You may change in that room," he said, "and when you are ready, please let us know."
Hulden looked thrilled by the time Roarke and Leslie joined him in the time-travel room and Leslie had given him a helmet and sword. "This is fantastic," he said, staring down at his Viking attire. "Where'll I be going, exactly?"
"You will begin in the midst of Prince Ulf's final voyage," said Roarke. "You may wish to acquaint yourself with the prince's aide, for I believe it will be your best chance to keep an eye on the prince. Are you ready?"
"Been ready forever, Mr. Roarke," said Hulden with a grin. "Let's go!"
Leslie waited in the study while Roarke sent Hulden into his fantasy; when Roarke returned, she watched him till he inquired, "Is there a problem?"
"What're you going to do about Christian?" she wanted to know.
Roarke studied her for several minutes; then he sighed quietly to himself. "In view of his insistence that you not be allowed to endanger yourself and the babies, it appears I have no choice in the matter," he said. "This is what I must do…"
