THE LOST VIKING SAGA

As promised, their transport arrived before noon in front of the inn to shuttle the men to the train station in Hastings. The Norsemen stood in fascination on the platform as the train rolled into the station as they observed yet another modern marvel. The last car was reserved for them, again making it obvious to Major Penbrooke that someone with a bit of authority was pulling the strings. Lavishly appointed, the car was beautifully furnished with comfortably upholstered seating, elaborate light fixtures, and decorations. It was also equipped with its own supply of drinks and prepared foods behind a counter at the rear of the car. The windows were framed by heavy, velvet curtains that could be left open or drawn at the will of the passengers if they desired absolute privacy. For this particular trip, the curtains would remain open, as the Norsemen never ceased to be in awe from time the train began to move and the entire time they watched the English countryside roll by outside.

They were even more astounded later that evening as the train reached its destination at Charing Cross station in London. After exiting the train and stepping out onto the sidewalk, their heads and eyes were in constant motion taking in the activity and the grand architecture all around them. Within minutes, a strange red bi-level lorry, that Penbrooke explained was called a bus, pulled up to the curb in front of them. An English army officer with the rank of Captain stepped out, immediately saluting Major Penbrooke and Olaf.

“Sirs, I am honored to be able to convey you to you next port of call as it were. If you all would please board the bus, we will be on our way.”

“Can you tell me where we are going, Captain?” asked Penbrooke.

“I am afraid I cannot, Major. It is all rather hush-hush, but fret not, it is a short journey by bus, and then all will be made clear.”

“Very well. Thank you, Captain,” replied Penbrooke as he directed the Norsemen to take their seats.

Another captivating journey offered Olaf and his men a wonderful view of the city of London. They were struck by how many people there were living and working in such approximation to one another. That one city could sustain such a population was beyond Olaf’s comprehension. Even more overwhelming was the vast number of horseless vehicles that moved along London’s twisting streets. How they ever kept from running into one another was another enigma Olaf pondered. When the bus pulled to the curb in front of a large, elaborately lighted, round, domed structure, Olaf heard Penbrooke question the English Captain once again.

“Royal Albert Hall? What ever can we be doing here, Captain?”

“I regret that I still cannot reveal that to you, Major. My orders were to deliver you here post haste from the station. If you please, you may now exit the bus. Someone will be waiting for you at the entrance to the Hall.”

Under an air of mystery, the group strolled along the sidewalk that led to the entrance where they were met, to their surprise, by John and William. Olaf’s face broadened into a wide smile as he recognized his friends.

“Olaf. I cannot express how pleased I am to see you back safe and hear of your success,” John said with his characteristic passion.

“Well done, my friend,” added William.

“It is good to see both of you,” Olaf said. “I must admit we are all rather perplexed as to what is going on. We expected to merely head straight to Barrow-in-Furness.”

“Too true,” interjected Major Penbrooke walking up behind Olaf. “I don’t suppose you two gentlemen can enlighten us as to the source of all of this secrecy?”

“We can only tell you that your actions caught the attention of someone who desires to shake your hand. It is impossible for you all to know how significant your heroics are to the future of our nation, and, I might add, to the world,” replied William.

“Here, here,” said John. “Come, my friends, there is no need to keep you waiting any longer. Follow us, please.”

Olaf walked between John and William, while the rest of the men shuffled hesitantly along behind them. They were led into the vast auditorium situated in the center of the impressive structure and up onto the cavernous stage where several chairs were set up. One of them was taken, its occupant rising as they ascended to the stage, and quite recognizable by every man.

“Welcome home,” said Colonel Brundige as he approached them. “I apologize for all of the clandestine activity, but there is someone rather excited to meet you. It is necessary that it all be kept under a tight lid. What you have accomplished cannot be made known to the world just yet because our faux-Hitler in Berlin would be jeopardized. While this state of war remains active, it can never be revealed that the proper Hitler is our prisoner. However, we also cannot allow such a display of bravery to go unappreciated. If you will take a seat, I am told it will only be a short wait before our guest arrives.”

The Norsemen followed Brundige’s instruction. They were fully engaged in telling and re-telling their detailed memories of the mission when a archaically dressed man in a powdered, white wig stepped onto the stage from the wings and proclaimed loudly, “Gentlemen, His Majesty, George VI.”

Without being told to do so, the Norsemen rose as a thin man of average height, dressed in an exquisitely tailored navy blue suit, strode out onto the stage toward them. Close behind the King followed a shorter, stocky, older man who walked with a cane.

“Please, gentlemen, be seated. It is I who am here to honor you,” he said humbly. He spoke with a slight stammer, but with a determined confidence that suggested a long struggle to overcome the impediment. Gesturing toward the man behind him he continued, “Mr. Churchill has told me of your situation and of your selfless dedication to our desperate cause. You have shown great bravery and given to England and her allies a great gift. There are no words that can be expressed to explain how this one mission will change the course of history. England cannot do enough to repay you for what you have accomplished on our behalf. It may seem a paltry thing in light of all you have done, but I have asked to meet you here this evening to bestow upon you a mere trifle in comparison. Nonetheless, it is my desire to give you England’s highest honor and to confer upon each of you a Knighthood.”

The King gestured toward the wings and immediately a group of thirty, regally dressed men entered, bearing highly polished, small, oaken chests in their hands. They stood in a line, ramrod straight and faced the King. At the end of the line stood another man, dressed in the same regalia, but adorned even more splendidly than the others. On his belt was a scabbard containing a sword with a gloriously jeweled hilt. The older man stepped forward, his face as inscrutable as a bulldog, and addressed the Norsemen.

“My dear friends, when the Secret Intelligence Service suggested that their pet project tag along on your mission, I must admit that I felt we might be sacrificing so much work and effort for a lost cause. You have more than proved me wrong. When our uncle from Berlin was introduced to me this morning, I saw a vanquished enemy. I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I had prepared myself for several years for a drawn out conflict and a loss of life I dare say I was not looking forward to. You have significantly diminished that with your overwhelming commitment to the cause of a country not your own. I know that you have lost comrades in this endeavor, one of your own, I am told, and who fell before we knew who you were, as well as one of ours during the mission itself. These are losses that can never be retrieved, but rest assured, they will be remembered. Our hearts are filled with sadness, but yet overflowing with joy because our dark night has been turned to brightest day. The King has said it better than I ever could express it. I thank you, England thanks you, and one day, I hope the world will thank you. Well done, gentlemen. God bless you.”

“Thank you, Winston,” said the King. “Now, if you would all line up facing the men behind me, I would like to honor you in the only manner I can think can come close to what you deserve.”

The Norsemen complied with the King’s request with efficient speed. George VI made his way slowly down the line, the man with the sword moving with him. The King engaged each of the Norsemen, including Major Penbrooke, individually. He spoke with each of them at length before next taking an elaborate medal, called the Victoria Cross, from the box held by the man opposite, and pinning it on the Norseman’s chest. He would then ask the recipient to kneel while taking the sword from his attendant. Touching the sword to first one shoulder, then the other, finishing with a touch to the top of the man’s bowed head, he would proclaim knighthood, after which he placed yet another ribboned medallion around the neck of the recipient.

“You are now a knight in the Order of Saint Michael. England owes you its deepest gratitude,” the King pronounced before moving on to the next man in line. The entire ceremony lasted nearly two hours as George VI made it a point to spend a sufficient amount of time with each of the men he wished to honor. Olaf stood at the end of the line, listening with growing admiration and pride as he saw each of his men receive recognition from the English King. When Olaf stood after being knighted and the King locked eyes with him, he found himself strangely uncomfortable being the focus of the attention he had so gladly watched the others accept.

King George spoke, admiration clearly expressed in his gaze, “Olaf, as the leader of this valorous band of men, I can barely articulate my great appreciation for the way you have modeled the highest character for them. It is difficult to imagine men following someone into an endeavor so fraught with danger without highly regarding the one they follow. All I can think to do to honor such a man as you is to also bestow to you in addition the honor of the George Cross. Very rarely does anyone receive both, but I believe in this context it is far beyond fitting. Olaf Sigmund’s son, you are a rare man indeed and I consider it an honor to call you the King’s friend.”

One of the King’s attendants stepped forward briskly and placed the award in the King’s open palm. With considerable solemnity, George VI pinned the medal next to the Victoria Cross and in an act rarely seen from a monarch, took a step backward, and saluted Olaf, before shaking his hand. With the formalities completed, the King, expressing his regrets, took his leave and was rushed off the stage by a pair of military escorts who had at some time during the proceedings arrived and stationed themselves next to Winston Churchill. Churchill himself smiled broadly at the Norsemen and as he too exited into the wings nodded his thanks once more.

The men milled around the stage, admiring one another’s awards, when Colonel Penbrooke announced loudly, “Gentlemen, I am pleased to inform you that tomorrow you will be boarding a train and heading back to Barrow-in-Furness where you will be gratefully housed until such time as a means might be discovered to return you to your time. If, by some unfortunate chance, that does not occur, I have been ordered by the King to make certain your every need is provided for. In the meantime, tonight, the King has had the entire fourth and fifth floor of the Savoy Hotel here in London set aside for you. I am told some very important people had to be relocated to other hotels to accommodate the King. The staff has been instructed, by order of the King, to afford you every luxury and courtesy they have to offer. In essence, he has requested that they treat you as royalty. You have been described to them as dear friends of His Majesty, so I should suspect you will want for nothing.”

“Are you not joining us, Colonel,” asked Olaf.

“I will not, my friend. I rarely make it to London and will take advantage of this time to pop in on my parents. I hope to surprise them. The bus is still parked outside and will transport you all there promptly. I will greet you again in Barrow-in-Furness tomorrow.”

The Colonel spun on his heels and quickly crossed the stage, disappearing into the darkness of the wings. John and William approached Olaf, both men smiling warmly.

“Congratulations, Olaf,” said John. “It was such a pleasure to see you all so highly honored.”

“Thank you. Will I being seeing the two of you again?”

“I am afraid I am going to be engaged for quite some time myself in other parts of the country,” answered William. “Your success employing my methods has created an even greater urgent demand from the Military Cabinet for me to mold our Special Forces into similar units as yours. It has been a great privilege to work with you, Olaf.”

“And I with you, my friend. If, by God’s grace, we do return home, what you have taught us will be practiced. You may even recognize some of your own methods in your history books.”

“I will anxiously be keeping my eye out for that.”

“And you, John? Will you be so engaged that this will be our final parting?”

“I am afraid I am not so in demand, Olaf. You will see much of me I am certain. I plan on taking the train up to Barrow-in-Furness often.”

“Forgive me, for holding out hope that your visits will not come over an extended period of time. I continue to anticipate our departure for our own time.”

“As you certainly should, Olaf. I only meant that I will visit as long as I have opportunity to do so. I would not desire to see you remain here when your heart is elsewhere.”

“Spoken as a true friend, John. William, I will pray for your safety and for your prosperity.”

“You have my thanks, my friend. John, will you share a cab with me? I will be travelling through Oxford on my way out of London.”

“I would greatly desire the company, William,” John answered holding out his hand toward Olaf. “Congratulations once again, Olaf, and welcome back.”

Olaf took the offered hand, pulling John forward in a friendly embrace. When he released him, Olaf repeated the gesture with William, and then walked from the auditorium with them. Olaf’s men were boarding the bus, the English Captain standing patiently on the sidewalk waiting to usher his charges to their next stop. Olaf watched as William hailed a cab, and the two men drove away, waving as they departed. Only then did Olaf join his men and allow the Captain to order the driver to take them to the Savoy.