I. The Burning Wharf

Swenson’s man went up the pegged mast and called down jubilantly that the last of the pirate longships had turned away from the pursuit. A stronger sail and the luck of a strong current had finally allowed our vessel to escape, and as we neared port there was no longer any chance that they would overtake us. But in the dark space of my skull my emotions still twisted and staggered as the ropes creaked and the chop of the channel waves deepened. My friend and business partner, Lars Lundheim was gone, taken, along with our other ship. At my place in the prow I choked on a watery mixture of tar and salt. My hands had been lashed to the high forward rail.

Swenson, the swedish pig I had hired to captain my merchant cog came forward to loom wide-legged behind me. "They were waiting for us," he admitted. "The channel way is bad. We should have lost ourselves in the island passages." I turned my head to look at him with hate. Although a man of great size and fierce appearance, it seemed Swenson was willing to take any excuse for cowardice. We both knew there had been at least as much chance that our enemies would have anchored in the shallows there as remained posted on an offshore watch.

"At least our cargo is intact," he added, greed fattening his words.

"You killed my friend," I spit, "By running away you killed my friend." At the first sight of the raiders the big captain had directed his crew to turn into the wind putting the other ship between us and the approaching threat. If we had rafted together, presented a united front, we could have stood them off, and I had tried to counter the cowardly orders, jumping to wrestle with the two men who manned the steering oar.

Swenson's broad face showed fatigue, but no further regret. His filthy orange hair was braided to the sides, his weak chin emphasized by short twists of beard. He shrugged and gestured for one of the men to free me from the rail. "Re-tie his wrists behind him," he instructed. "Or we’ll just end up having to rap his head again. You’re a fool, Olveg of Bergen. A wealthy fool now, thanks to me, instead of a dead one, but still a fool." I turned away angrily to face our approaching destination, the German town of Lubek.

From the sea Lubek was distinguished by its massive wooden wharf, a half mile or more in length, the city having been founded to anchor trade on the Baltic sea. A circle of shore swung away on one side, littered with buildings, walls, and the tower of a Christian church, on the other, the land pressed out into a forested point. It was along this promontory that the pilings had been driven to take advantage of the natural breakwater.

A small craft with two sets of oars and a passenger came past the end of the tall pilings and a few minutes later a harbor pilot hailed us. Even though our broad-beamed cog rode low in the water, the smaller boat bobbed in the green water far below it.

Our pilot was a lithe dark-haired man around two dozen years of age. Without waiting to be swung on board he straightened the coil of rope that ran from shoulder to hip and came up our offered boom hand and foot, passing the crew the crossed yellow pennant that signified the ship was in his charge. "Welcome to the free port of Lubek," he said. If he took any surprise in the sight of me with my wrists tied behind my back, this was something detected in his widened golden eyes, not revealed by his voice.

"Thank you," I said heavily. "We’re glad to be back."

It had been nearly three years since the trade had brought me to this southern shore. Busy years of bartering, borrowing, boat building and arranging for our secret consignment. By rights this should have been a triumphant arrival. Instead, I knew it was unlikely I would ever set eyes on my partner Lars or any of the five crewmembers of our other cog again.

"There was an attack by pirates." I offered to our host, shrugging my shoulders against my bonds in pretended explanation. Swenson snorted and gestured for me to be freed entirely. "Our other vessel was taken."

"Was it Forkbeard?"

"Most likely," Swenson replied. "We were never close enough to tell," I contradicted, rubbing my rope-ridged wrists.

"Ja. His ships have been standing across the channel for months. No one can stop them. You were lucky to escape. Last week they delivered a string of crewless barges beyond the breakwater. A thousand Danish crowns for the cargo, sight unseen, they demanded. They cut out a half dozen craft from our own anchorage two nights ago. I will guide you into the inner harbor. There’s more money involved, but under the circumstances…"

"What will our money buy?" Swenson interrupted, in the manner of a miser unwilling to diminish a hoard. The pilot looked startled.

"We accept your offer with gratitude," I said, shaking off the captain’s pretentions. It was my currency, not his, that was involved. "We were indeed lucky. If not for the exceeding rapidity with which Captain Swenson abandoned the other ship we might have been overtaken like our comrades." An hour after we fled an ominous line of dark smoke had twisted against the sky behind us.

"You expected me to give my life because some fool could not keep the wind at his back?" Swenson snarled. A look of distaste crossed our host's face at these craven words.

Yes, I think so, Captain. I think I did." I turned my shoulder, speaking to the pilot. "As you can see, it is hard to find anyone with the courage to resist this predation. Tell me. Are ransoms ever arranged?"

"Sometimes. If the captives still live." Again I became conscious of a certain depth within the landsman's golden eyes.

"But you disapprove?"

"We will never be free of this curse of piracy if we continue to give in to extortion," the pilot said shortly. "Though I know you cannot but wish for the rescue of your comrades."

While we had been speaking the rowers from the port had taken our line and brought us into a maze of high tarred wood pilings and the sound and bluster of the wind was replaced by the lapping of small waves within. "Can I inquire as to your goods?" the pilot asked. "It will aid your trade if we can place you closer to the market you desire." I understood immediately. In every port advance knowledge is itself a premium commodity "Salt-fish, primarily," I lied. "Tell me, does a warehouseman called Baumgartner still trade here?" A sudden look of disapproval. Business goes on, and my old associate was well known for his practices.

"If I can suggest something," the man ventured. I waited blandly. "Cod and herring always bring a top price. And today, today your vessel is only the seventh to come through in the past two weeks. Baumgartner’s storehouses are full. It may be to your advantage to seek a less exclusive relationship."

"Hmm," I pretended to ponder the information. His sincerity was plain. "Thank you for the advice."

We had arrived in Lubek. The pilot ran down his pennant and hoisted himself to the quay, deploying a plank so the crew of our vessel could climb up more easily. Now that we were ashore, it was time to set things straight. I rounded on the red-faced coward whose actions had doomed my friend, drawing my short knife from my belt. "You’re dismissed, Captain." And with all the power the gods could offer me I swung upward at Swenson, but as I did I found myself with one leg too long, the other too short, the sudden return to land after weeks at sea betraying me. My blade barely scraped the captain’s arm and I spun facedown to my knees and elbows. Cursing in shame at my own incompetence I turned, trying to rise to face Swenson’s retaliation.

A moment later, I heard the sound of a large body making contact with the dirty harbor waters below. The harbor pilot had weighed in on my side. "No brawling is permitted on the Lubeck docks," he informed me sternly. A slight smile revealed his true feelings. "There will be no additional charge for the closer berth, either, Trader."

The other members of Swenson’s crew milled uneasily around. "I’ll deliver your wages to the seamen’s hall this afternoon," I promised, though I had no reason to retain good feelings for them either. I gathered my dignity and rose unsteadily, turning toward the old part of town. I knew where I would find Jör Baumgartner.

In those early days Lubek had not yet found the prosperity it was to later attain. The streets were clean, and the buildings well kept, but most were chimney-less, still roofed with wood. Outwardly, there was little beyond a thriving warehouse district that would distinguish this city from the cities of the north, from Bergen or Stavenger. I shambled unevenly on my way over the cobblingstones, coming aware of the smells and sounds of townlife. Noodles were being cooked for a midday meal. A woman’s voice called a question from one room of a house to another.

This sense of normalcy robbed me of my justified anger, replaced it with despair, left me helpless.

The businessman was in the tavern I remembered near Lubek’s central square, an intent, bearded, brown man with soft rounded shoulders. He was surrounded by a litter of manifests and reckonings, a large mug of beer ready at hand. Baumgartner noted my entrance immediately, pushing the stein aside and rising to take my hand enthusiastically.

"So, Olveg. Well met. Our well-laid plans at last bear fruit. Your cargo?"

"It’s on board."

Jör Baumgartner grinned widely, his eyebrows arched. "A drink, then, my friend?"

"I think maybe some of the grape." I’ve never cared for beer or mead. Jör gestured grandiosely and the proprietor of the tavern came forward immediately, hands clasped carefully around two ornate crystal cups.

"I remembered this already," the trader laughed. "We have been waiting for you."

"Don’t worry. It’s a gift," he said, his palms turning outward, mistaking my hesitation for caution. "Both the glassware and the vintage. A token from our friends beyond the south." I looked at him through tired eyes.

"Have you brought a few drops of the amber with you?" Jör asked eagerly. I shrugged. From the leather bag I slung down I pulled my small vial and drew out a quill full of the precious commodity. The thickened liquid exploded as it touched the wine’s ruby surface. Immediately the rich scent emerged, as penetrating and evocative as spring thaw.

"You will require a different captain for your return voyage, I understand," Baumgarten remarked matter-of-factly, tipping the goblet to me, and I barked out a harsh laugh. What bird had flown ahead of me? There never was a man who knew more and knew it sooner than this German.

The red wine and its adulterant swirled like cooled blood within the transparent lights of the stemmed vessel before me. "If you know about my disagreement with Captain Swenson, then you already have heard about my bad news," I said.

"I had not," Jör said. He set himself to listen. I told the story once again of our ill-fated journey.

Lars had clasped my hand for the last time at Goteborg, in Swedeland. We had re-provisioned there at the demands of our hired captain Swenson, and it was at this port that I believed that the spies for the pirates had signaled our departure. Our two vessels were poorly matched, the one on which Lars had taken passage the older of the pair, with a barnacled beam and deeper draught. Notwithstanding, we had negotiated the Kattegat, the strait that pinches the Baltic away from the great White Sea without difficulty, until Swenson’s reckonings bore us further into the channel and the wind astern had taken the lead ship some distance forward. This could not have been simple carelessness.

"Great providence, then," Jör remarked. "That you choose to carry the precious ambergris to these shores yourself. It wouldn’t be the first time, I’m afraid, that even experienced captains have fallen prey to Forkbeard," he added blandly, attempting to pacify my reviving rage. "In fact, it’s clear to me that your captain is without guile, because if he were in collusion with the pirates he would have had no need to try to outrun them."

I regarded Jör stubbornly. "It hardly matters. Lars’ clan and my own are allied. The enemy of my family will always be my enemy, whether he holds a bloody axe or stands away while harm is done. This is the Law." I curled my fingers down and held my hardened fist in the space between my eyes.

"I understand. Still, Olveg, in every man’s life he may come into many families, must learn to obey new and different laws. Here in Lubek, I warn you, the sort of vengeance you practice in the northern lands is not tolerated. It is better that you leave things as they are."

"Maybe." I could hardly be satisfied by such reasoning. "In any case, I need to settle our accounts as soon as possible, so I can arrange for Lars’ ransom. How much can you offer?" I took a large gulp of the fragrant wine and sat back, watching without caring as the trader wrestled with his instincts before replying.

"Olveg, my friend. Your partner is dead. Don’t throw away your money. We will make a fine deal. Perhaps tomorrow."

As much as the wind that had driven my two ships apart the day before, the fates now interrupted us before I spoke further. Two young boys burst through the narrow doorway of the tavern at the same time, followed after a moment by a slower, slenderer shape. "Fader! Herr Schlagel is buying hides again. He just paid Felix two and a half Danish crowns!" The kinder skidded to a stop before us, breathing excitedly.

"That’s great news, boys!" Jör Baumgartner winked at me. "What else did you find out? Ratka?" With a rush of bewilderment, I recognized the young woman who stood just inside the tavern as Jör’s oldest child, transformed.

She bent the long fingers of her left hand back with her right. "First. He has already made a deal for the finished leather. With Herr Laubin. Second, he has procured the tannin that will be needed and he has paid good money for it. At least a dozen marks a measure. I know this because at the market I attempted to buy some myself, and all that was available was of low quality and high price. Third, that some mysterious tradesperson has arranged for all the hides from the slaughterhouse to be delivered to Herr Schlagel already. In fact it seems very strange that Felix was able to command such a high price for the skin of our old cow, though we loved her very much…"

"That’s very good, Ratka! Thank you. Isn’t she beautiful?" he said to me in a loud aside, "And almost now of marrying age…" His daughter blushed an immediate deep red. "Kids, you remember our old friend Olveg of Bergen, don’t you?"

She was dressed in brown clothing, like her father, a fawn-colored leather tunic laced to her neck. She wore wrapped leggings that accented her slim form. I could not have been more surprised at her appearance. Three years before she had seemed big-nosed and uncertain, a clever but shielded child. And at least two hands shorter.

"My honor, fraulein," I said. Ratka smiled, brushing black hair away from eyes nearly as dark, the obvious gifts of her mother’s landish heritage. "Thank you, Herr Olveg. I remember with pleasure your visits to our home. Am I to assume that you have stockfisch to trade?"

"No! NO. NO. NO!" Jör Baumgartner burst out with feigned haste. "I won’t be sharped by my own daughter. You can’t trust her, Olveg. Here. Here are a hundred Danish crowns in earnest. How much cargo did you say?"

"Seventy times my weight plus three," I said, amused by the exchange in spite of my dark mood.

"We’ll see. You’ll stay at our place again, of course. Magya will prepare a great feast. Tomorrow you will weigh much more. Now the kids will go with you to fetch your kit. Ratka can show you where to spend your money for a gift for her mother. I will see you in a few hours."

"Olveg," he added, "Be good. Stay out of trouble, please."

I needed to settle my accounts at the Sailors’ Guild Hall, so we left the tavern and turned back toward the waterfront. In contrast to her small brothers, the girl Ratka walked purposefully, her lengthened legs matching my stride without effort. "I know nothing about your secret cargo, naturally," she said after a time. "I hoped only to make a good bargain for the fish while father's attention was distracted by the scent of greater gain."

I chuckled again at the girl's precociousness. "I suspect we can find a piece of the trade for you."

"Did you see any pirates, Herr Olveg?" Karl, the older of the two brothers, was skipping sideways in front of the rest of us as we walked. "Did you see Forkbeard?"

"We didn’t see him," I answered, "But we know he’s there. One of my ships was taken. My partner was killed. I was just explaining this to your father."

In a peculiar way it was a revelation to realize that these children could take in the knowledge of Lars’ death without feeling either fear or the pain that wrenched me. "They wait for stragglers in the island channels," I said experimentally. "It’s hard to know how to fight back against them."

She peeked from behind her curtain of straight black hair with disturbing coyness. "Herr Olveg, if I remember, you are married? A wife in Bergen?"

"That’s right," I said, blinking, as I thought of Edme. "In fact, to two women there—Edme Thorsdatter and another named Brette." I smiled as Ratka absorbed the information. "In Germany," she said with something of a superior air, "A man is married to only one partner."

"Then I am ahead," I said, "Because in Germany I am married to no one."

Outside the Guild Hall a one-handed worker was tarring the hull of a small boat that had been turned over on rollers. Nearby a vile-smelling fire burned beneath a vat of smoking liquid. A small group of spectators, among them Swenson and two of his men, were directing the man’s efforts, carefully staying beyond range of the flicked brush of hot bitumen. "Mind that heat, Peder!" "You missed a spot," "Tie a mop to that stump of his and he could do this all day," and other such abuse. The profanity ceased suddenly as we approached, whether in recognition of me or restrained by the presence of Ratka and her brothers.

I handed a few coins to Felix Baumgartner and sent the kids scampering ahead to recover my possessions from the boat. "I’ll have a few words with these men and catch up with you shortly. Can you find your way?"

"We know where to go," Karl boasted eagerly. Ratka, though, had seen my tension as I regarded Swenson and held back. "Father told me to keep you out of trouble, Herr Olveg. I’ll stay here." I shrugged tight shoulders back, unlimbering my arms.

I muscled by Swenson and went into the Guild Hall where I found the purser and began to count coins into six separate piles. "Tordhag, Erikkson, Petersen, Aaberg, Harn." I left the captain’s share unnamed. "Twelve crowns each, plus twenty."

"You owe me far more than twenty crowns, and at least ten more for each of the men," Swenson burst out from behind me, his voice agitated. We saved your miserable life."

"If I do, then you can collect the money when you enter Hell," I said conversationally, turning. "As far as I am concerned you sacrificed any mention of a share when you abandoned the second boat."

"Be reasonable, Trader," Swenson went on, and now he seemed almost to be pleading. His clothing was still damp and stinking from his immersion in the harbor waters, his long hair tangled wet around his rough red face. "That bundle you concealed in the bow will make you a wealthy man. We will have nothing. You can’t strand us on foreign shores this way."

"It’s my ship," I pointed out. "Could I travel any further in confidence with a crew that beat me down and bound me?" I raised my wrists to show Ratka. My efforts to free myself had rutted my flesh in deep raw grooves.

"We’ll have you up to judgement before the Thing," the captain said, looking to the other crewmembers for support, "The men and I will."

One of Swenson’s men, Erikkson, spoke up. "The Captain was right, Trader. There was no hope of succeeding against the raiders, or even of returning against the wind before they had completed their deeds."

"Thank you for your opinion," I said sarcastically, "The judges of the thing may well agree with you. The courage to fight seems to be a rare commodity in this port. My decision would not have gone that way."

Ratka touched my arm, an unexpected ally. "Can he afford to wait three weeks until the Lubek council takes on the matter," she whispered. Her breath blew warm in my beard. "Hah," I said, squeezing her hand, "I had forgotten that." I began scooping the coins back into my pouch.

"What are you doing?" Swenson shrilled, "Who is this girl?"

"She simply pointed out that if you want to press a lawsuit I have no obligation to pay you until after a decision is reached."

Outdoors the bell of the Christian church had begun to peal. "Stay out of this," Swenson snarled at Ratka. She turned her palms outward, expressively, the same gesture of innocence I had seen her father make, and I jounced the heavy purse in my hand. "Let’s agree, then, that there will be no lawsuit," I said, with regained purpose. "For my part, I’ll offer five crowns to any of the former crew who will agree to join me for the return voyage. Except for you, Swenson. And you Erikkson. The next time I see you two, you’ll be well advised to run from me as from Forkbeard himself."

"Herr Olveg!" Karl Baumgartner had returned, gasping with effort. The sound outside now included shouting and commotion. "It’s Forkbeard! The pirates have come ashore! They’re at the wharf now."

"How many, Karl?" I asked. "Where are your weapons?" I demanded of the GuildMaster, dismissing my former captain. Within seconds the sailors and I were armed with an assortment of blades and cudgels and striding to the waterfront.

As soon as we saw the ships, I could see the vulnerability the raiders had exploited. Lubek had been founded as a port because of its fine harbor, a scooping shore on the lee of a long headland. Forkbeard had sent a marauding party across the point to slaughter and kidnap in the town while his sea-borne parties looted the ships moored at the wharf. It was a typical Vikish tactic, brutal and direct. Most of the men of Lubek had responded to the threat, swarming to the city walls to defend their families. Few beyond our small gang of sailors remained to oppose the enemy’s thievery at the waterfront.

I glanced behind me and was astonished to see Baumgartner’s children, the two boys and their older sister, following uncertainly behind us. "Go back," I pushed at them with the heavy two-handed sword I had taken up. Ratka’s pretty face was wrenched tight with fear, and I felt the rage surge at the thought of those who would harm her. Then I turned to dash to our mooring place on the Lubek wharf.

The good turn our golden-eyed harbor pilot had done us in bringing my ship closer to shore had protected it for the moment. That selfsame man had emerged from his watchhouse ahead of us, a long-handled axe held high in his hands. But already a brace of dirty determined pirate seamen were advancing down the length of the wharf, dropping members of their party into the boats they passed, pushing them away from the raised wooden docks.

Had Forkbeard learned of the secret store of ambergris below the decks of my ship? Had that knowledge triggered this pursuit? I was determined to protect what remained of my investments from the predators who had already taken the life of my friend. And I hoped without belief that Lars had purchased his survival with the knowledge. I followed, passing by the place where our still loaded cog bumped against rope fenders, charging along the planking to meet the enemy head on.

In battle you find your man and take him, and I saw mine, a tall fellow topped with a tangled spray of yellow hair, a shaped leather helmet. He sensed my attentions at the same time and cocked to face me, unscabbarding a sharp short sword as I approached.

He dodged the first murderous overhead sweep of my sword—but they always do that. For my part, alert to the dangers of the weapon in my opponent’s hand, I simply stepped aside as he stabbed it futilely toward my guts, letting my own extended blade fall around heavily against his backside. The Viking went to his knees as pretty as a hamstrung hog and I spared him a lengthy contemplation of his foolishness. For you, Lars.

That was one man. But even as I ditched him other pirates were already streaming by me, hard on the attack. Swenson and his crew had come up behind, fighting surprisingly well for merchant sailors, but falling back before this aggressive assault. These Vikings were expert in wreaking their wills on hapless defenders, and as I watched I could see another group climb up the seawall that anchored the length of the wharf, cutting us off.

"Protect the girl," I heard the voice of the harbor pilot shout urgently. Now there was an additional need for fighting fury as the northmen behind us discovered Ratka in the shadows of piled cargo. Turning, I watched them pull her thin body forth, beating her clinging brothers carelessly to the ground. With a huge roar I gave up my defense of the boat, hefting the long sword above my head and hacking down on the pirates who stood between me and the Baumgartner children. I split the shoulder of one and kicked him forward in a gush of blood, then engaged another wild, blue-eyed warrior.

Exactly why I or any of the gaggle of sailors from the Guild hall should have turned our efforts away from the protection of our property and to the aid of the young of the people of Lubek was unknown. Nevertheless, the group fell back, in unison, toward the town.

There were three of them that had hold of her, clouting her heavily as she kicked and jerked in the tangle of arms. While I was suddenly surprised by a wicked feint that came close to killing me. I took a sword-butt beneath the ribs that I knew for an instant must be a blade.

With the intimacy of sex, I heard my stilled heart beat again, breathed in the stale airs of this new opponent. He battered the heavy haft against bone again, but I was holding tight to him, throwing down my weapon and overbalancing him to the wooden dock. Blue eyes never left my own as we struggled, gave no clue to the evil motives behind them, though they revealed a circle of scorn, knowledge, fear, desperation, and acceptance as I clenched his throbbing neck with cramped, clawed hands and held them there, held them there.

It was long minutes later that I was able to finally swing my attention back to where I had seen Ratka being carried away. She had disappeared, nor was there any sign of her abductors. All I could see there, passing through the gate that connected the wharf with the land, was Swenson, limping badly on one leg, a blooded cutlass in his hand. The dirty swede was running away again. I recovered my long sword and followed.

The vikings had carried Ratka’s bucking body nearly to their waiting boat. Swenson hobbled toward them, struck low and took one of the raiders down, and with this advantage the girl succeeded in squirming away from the other two captors. Enraged, they turned on Swenson, flanking wide to cut him to pieces. The captain gauged his chances and staggered straight ahead, locking his arms around one of the vikings and letting the weight of his charge carry both of them over the edge of the seawall to splash into the risen tide.

By now the girl had given such a good account of herself that the last abductor had re-thought the wisdom of importing such a furious female animal to his peaceful swedish island, and he spun away and, seeing my approach, ducked back to join his comrades. The other raiders had returned to the business at hand, casting boats adrift, falling back along the wharf to carry out whatever vandalism that occurred to them.

Ratka stood at the edge of the seawall, her dark hair tangled and wild from her struggles, reaching toward the water. Swenson and the raider bobbed and thrashed at each other, and I went down to my knees on the rim, raising my sword and letting it seek the target of its will. The pointed tip wavered and gleamed, then punched with delicious lack of mercy though the gate of yellowed teeth of the man below.

Swenson raised his arm for a lift up, but I turned away.

All along the proud half-mile length of Lubek’s trading wharf, fires had begun to smoke and flare as the pirate leader Forkbeard sought to leave a permanent monument to his terror. The wolfpack was no longer satisfied to prey on the straggling travelers of the inner seas. Success had increased their numbers and brought their violence and extortion to shore. And in the midst of the carnage I saw the boat that had brought me to this foreign land, laden with all the wealth that remained to me, pushed off and returned to sea by a pirate crew. I watched, sneering with berserker rage, as it joined a triumphant fleet of longships and other captured prizes and disappeared into the northern haze.

II. The Prosperous House

After the fires were put out and our weapons returned, then I finally allowed the children to lead me upward through the city to the place where the family dwelt. It was a large two-story residence on the heights, far away from seaborne danger, yet allowing a clear view of the sawtooth mouth of the Lubek harbor.

Having seen our approach from an upstairs window, Magya Baumgartner hurried down to meet us, halting just inside the stone-worked portico of her prosperous home. A slash of late afternoon shadow crossed her face.

"Mother! Forkbeard and his men landed at the wharf! They tried to kill Ratka! We and Herr Olveg saved her!" Karl shrilled. He ran forward, clutching at the skirts of his mother, who seemed simultaneously to wish to enfold him and to press him away.

I think that I may not have mentioned before now the great, sad beauty who was wife to Jör Baumgartner. Our eyes met again for the first time in almost three years and in the instant before she looked away I was struck by the poignancy of memory. Magya was dark, of landish heritage, with swarthy walnut skin, sculpted nose, and a haunted and intimate dignity.

Nothing had ever occurred between us, and yet I believe that it was the surprising understanding we had discovered previously that made us both withdraw on this occasion. As though neither wished to presume on the past. Or perhaps such matters had simply been brushed aside by the mother’s concern for her daughter. She pushed Karl away and pulled Ratka desperately to her breast.

Ratka had already reached a few inches of height greater than her mother, who was by no means short for a woman. And her mother’s slim body had widened somewhat with the passage of time and three children. Beyond this they were outwardly identical, with hair as dark as coal, the same deep forest brown eyes, eyes spilling over with tears.

"I saw the ships come to shore," Magya Baumgartner whispered. "The men running to meet them. The docks in flames." She dropped her hands to enclose her daughter’s hips.

"Did they do anything to you?"

Ratka shook herself back to face me. "No, Mother. I’m fine. Herr Olveg…did save me, though." She scowled dark eyebrows into troubled focus. "He killed one of the men who was carrying me away."

"I know, Ratka," I said, "I know. Killing is never pretty, even in revenge on an evil enemy. I was forced to act to protect your great beauty and innocence." Though I tried to speak lightly to reassure the girl, a floodwash of sweet vengeance made me instantly hard. And I became suddenly aware that it was the first time I had ever spoken her name.

"You can have it," she said. She was plucking at her hair, her chin raised challengingly, her lips quivering, and the moisture running now like spring rain across her soft cheeks.

"Then welcome, Olveg," Magya interjected, somewhat suddenly. "Well come, indeed. Jör said you would be arriving this season. We’re thankful it was on this day." I stood uncomfortably between the two women, uncertain how to reply to either.

After a few more silent moments Jör thankfully arrived, hailing us from the road below. "I got back as swiftly as I could," he said, out of breath, his brown clothing disheveled by movement. "Olveg, I understand that you have now lost all, your vessel taken away by Forkbeard’s men."

For some reason the matter of my stolen boat was not weighing on me at that moment. "There is reason for happiness despite this," I said. Ratka was now unsuccessfully trying to hold back the gulping sobs that had come to accompany her tears. "Far more than our cargo was at stake, no matter how valuable."

"You are all right, naturally," Jör told his daughter. And in the way that he had I do not believe that any of the family, least of all Ratka, felt that it could be otherwise. "Yes. The feast. Magya, have we to eat? We should still honor our guest, even if we can no longer celebrate the profit from the arrival of his goods." The businessman gestured me busily through the doorway where his wife stood guard, and into the prosperous rooms within.

Within minutes Jör was holding forth with me on the problems of trade and piracy over the surface of a finished wooden table, almost as though the events of the day had not taken place. Magya provided us with breads, greens, and a small roasted pig, and there was much more of the wine.

"But seriously, Olveg," Jör finally admitted with a belch, wiping the remains of the meal from his mouth. "There is a debt here that cannot be balanced against the hundred danish crowns I advanced you earlier today. I could place no price on my daughter’s safety, and I am told that she owes her life to you."

"It was more than just me," I mumbled. Ratka was leaning forward on the table, her dark brows arched and her hand wrapped around her chin, as much a participant in our conversation without words as with them.

"Isn’t she beautiful?" Jör began to tease, "And almost of…" He broke off in response to a glare from his wife and a bleat of despair from his daughter. I couldn’t prevent myself from looking to the girl despite the embarassment of the situation. And found that, red-faced or not, she likewise met my scrutiny straight on.

"I believe Herr Olveg is already twice married, father." And she smiled at me.

"Anyway. So this is the plan. I have uses for an agent here onshore. I can’t get around as quickly as I used to, and the business has grown. Until Karl and Felix are older, or until Ratka finds a husband, you know, I have need for some extra help."

"Do it, Olveg!" Felix and Karl urged. Magya scowled.

"I won’t accept charity." I turned the idea over. "I understood that with Forkbeard there was very little commerce still occurring in Lubek. You don’t need an assistant, I feel sure."

"Quite the opposite." Jör enthused. "There’s a considerable amount of trade still going on despite the pirates. We still have all the goods from the south. In fact," he hurried on, "there are some unusual opportunities that have come up just because of Forkbeard and his men."

"I’ll repay the hundred crowns as soon as I can. But I have already spent the money to pay my Norge crew." Jör waved in dismissal, restraining smugly from calling for an accounting. We both looked to Ratka, who concealed a disapproving mouth beneath her fist and said nothing.

"Jör," I bore in, "Tell me something. Why is it that the citizens of Lubek haven’t joined together to resist Forkbeard? It seems to me that today’s raid has shown what a threat this piracy can be."

"Naturally, that’s complicated." Jör blustered. "First, until today, he’s never come onshore. It’s really not our problem. That's the concern of the traders like your former self. All we do is handle the goods that come and go. Naturally, no one here has much interest in chasing sailors out into the sound, where they would have every advantage."

Magya had been clearing away the meal. Now she stopped and leaned toward her husband. "Tell Olveg the real reason," she said intensely. Jör turned quickly away.

"My husband," she said, the word an insult, "has made a certain amount of money in dealing with these pirates…" She became aware of Ratka, who had pulled her elbows from the table and was regarding her father gravely. "I’m sorry to be telling this to you in this way, baby, " she said, misinterpreting the reaction, "But it must be said. Jör, your own daughter now."

"I knew already, mother. Naturally." Ratka said quietly, but instead of looking at either of her parents she had turned to me with fear and tension.

Of course Jör Baumgartner had not attained his wealth by random acts of kindness, as I well knew. Nor has this been the secret of even my own small success. As well I have finally learned to a small degree not to reveal every feeling, to conceal my disapproval when it will block my future gain.

"I see," I said evenly. As if ever I would consent to work for one who treated with the criminals who had killed my friend and stolen my trading goods. "So, then, Jör, I am guessing that you must have some means of contact with Forkbeard's men. Or have they simply done as the harbormaster suggested, stand offshore and bargain for the seized prizes?"

"Mostly. Few others here can put together the capital to make these deals. Don't misunderstand, Olveg. This time Forkbeard has gone too far."

"Nevertheless, Olveg, Jör has profited enormously from his purchase of these stolen goods," Magya shot in. Jör snorted in exasperation.

"The woman has been like this ever since she began this Christianic stuff," he explained dismissively. "Magya, do you think that your fine house here has grown by itself?" His broad hands swept the air, as though gathering together the rich fabrics that lined the walls of the large room. In the center of it, Magya slumped noticeably at the words.

"It's Christian, as you know," she said. "And I have always been 'like this'. For all the years you have had me here--wanting a world in which people's children were not seized and raped and taken to foreign lands."

"You came quite willingly, as I recall," Jör said. "I found Magya in a little village in Hungaria," he explained to me, "It was in the early days when I was trading in metals." Now his look took in the children as well. "You might today have a fine gypsy family, a hard-working tin miner for a husband."

"I went willingly," she replied. "We would wish for more choices."

"Tell me more about the Christian church," I prompted in the silence that followed, to change the subject. Jör's grizzled face wrinkled with relief.

"Have you heard of it?" Magya's spirits were immediately restored. Her two sons moaned and immediately disappeared. Even Ratka wavered, then gathered a platter and plate and departed for the kitchen.

"A little bit," I said. "It seems a dire creed. A king who is murdered long ago and returns to disperse his enemies. Inspirational, though, I understand."

"But that's wrong," Magya exulted. "He is our living God. An example of love and sacrifice to live by." Her brown eyes widened, transformed her hollowed face. Isn't this the way it is with the Gods. Silly stories and symbols that can make us more than we had realized.

"For me, it has always been the sagas, the songs, the old gods and their legends," I said.

"That's right," Jör interjected. "We remember this about you, my friend. The children are forever asking that I tell them an epic, but I am not as talented a northern liar as yourself. Perhaps you can put us to rest this evening. We all need some distraction tonight."

A few minutes after the parents and I had situated ourselves in another room, this one appointed with a hearth and padded chairs, the door pushed slowly open and Ratka came in, dressed for the night in a linen sleeping dress. She smiled shyly, as though embarrassed by this reversion to a child's bedtime role. Her brothers were already in place on the floor before me, heads propped on elbows, and the girl curled down beside them like an elegant kitten, sweeping her long hair behind her shoulder.

"It's a story about loyalty and love," I said, staring past the family fixedly and into the fire, willing the frozen figures of the saga to thaw within my mind. "...of the way that the people of Iceland finally drove away the giants."

"This was in the days when the old gods still worked their ways with the world," I said, in deference to Magya, "which was not very long ago. Baldur himself was watching over Snorri and his clan, as they tended to the reindeer that spring. Now, it had been a hard winter again and yet even the year before that. And so even the beasts of the wild had come down from the uplands and mixed with their animals, and that was good, the family thought, because it meant that the herd would become stronger from the new blood.

One day the young boy Snorri was sent out to look after the reindeer and on this day the herd had pressed up against the hills where the green plants grow in the fresh snow streams. And what do you think he found there? It was the wastage of a young cow, her side torn open and the calf taken, with blood and evil smells everywhere, and a trail of crimson that led away from the place. Snorri knew when he saw this that the giants had returned.

Snorri was afraid, so he took the long knife from his belt and followed the trail until he came upon a rocky place where there were trees and the signs of a fire, and this is where he found the giant. The giant was rough and red, with a face as round as the moon, and he was chewing on the bones of the unborn calf. "Hail there, young Thorsten," he greeted Snorri, and Snorri thought then that because the giant had already fed there was no danger.

Someone has taken one of my cows, Snorri said, putting down his knife, and so I am here to ask for payment. But the giant refused him, saying, "The calf belonged to me, being the issue of my own wild stag." "Not so," replied Snorri, "the ones that are wild belong to no one, as everybody knows."

"How did the giant know who he was, Olveg?" Karl spoke up suddenly. I held up my hand.

"And so then the giant killed Snorri and ate him, even though he was not hungry," I added. Because the kinder needed to know these things about giants and about interrupting. "He just knew. So. Now that makes it time for bed." I took the moment of protest that ensued to refresh my half-filled wineglass.

"What really happened, Olveg?" Jör interceded finally on their behalf, his manner aloof.

"Do they promise not to ask any more questions?"

"Boys?"

"That was indeed what really happened," I went on. "For I would never lie to you, Jör. And Snorri's mother and his sisters missed him, missed him very much. And that was why when the father sent Snorri’s younger brother to find out where the reindeer had gone, they all said, 'Be very careful, Heim."

So Heim followed the tracks of the reindeer herd until they led him deep into the icy valley. He found the remains of the cow, curled and broken, and he saw the tracks of his brother cold and stained with brown blood leading away. "Have you seen anything of Snorri Thorsten?" he asked the giant who he found further on. "Yes, and tasted of him, too," the latter replied, and an instant later he had swallowed Heim as well.

And so who did this leave but the girl, Anika? Now the seasons had turned, and before anyone knew, the giant had come down to the village, right into the village, like a summer storm, and was asking for the most beautiful of the maidens there but not for food, because this time the giant was looking for a young wife to take away to his homeland in the north."

"Well," the father said, because he was a practical man, "She will be married soon anyway. And he is very powerful. And he has the reindeer. He ordered his wife to prepare a great feast of celebration. But the woman, her name was Mrtta, was not convinced. "Nothing good comes of giants," she said to herself, even as she began to lay forth the platters of fish and viands.

"Thank you for sharing your fable with us." Jör stood. Beside him, Magya wavered silently between pain and mirth.

"As I said, Jör," I replied, "I would never lie to you. This says much about how I feel. Nothing good comes of piracy."

"Well. You are doubtless right. Tomorrow we will discuss the turn of your fortune." And with both hands on Magya’s slim arm he moved grandly to the door. "Kids, now it is time for bed. Herr Olveg has been kind to give us the tale. Now you must let him rest."

"But father. We still have not heard what happens!" Karl and Felix cried together. "Who finally killed the giant? Don’t you want to know?"

"I believe I have heard this one before," their father said sourly, "Very well, you may stay awake a little while longer. Still, remember your chores tomorrow."

"What happened next, Olveg?" Ratka asked intently, her shoulders raised close to her ears.

"Oh, it was a fine day to be wed and a sorry day for giants. For what the invader had never said was that this was the thousand years, and that these were the times when everything changes, when everything sits balanced on the edge of the sword. The giant knew that the woman he bore away could give him many children and it would mean the future for his race. Or else he would be the last of the giants, and fade away a muttering old man."

In the kitchen before the wedding was to take place the mother Mrrta helped her daughter prepare her cake. It was long and thick and fat, the outside of it glazed with summer honey and baked brown and hard, and it was the tradition that this cake be shared among the village whenever a wedding of consequence occurred.

"I wish we had some cake now," the younger brother Felix said.

"Do you hear a noise?" I asked Ratka. "To me it sounded like the rumbling of a giant’s stomach. Hush, stomach."

"Will you marry this giant of your free will, Anika?" The words were said, and her answer was yes, though there was no free will involved. At this the giant smiled, a horrible and ugly gash of a smile that split his fat face like a rotten harvest gourd. "Then let us depart for the north, my bride Anika," he chortled in triumph.

"No, Sateen," she said, for that was his unworldly name. "First we must observe the rituals. When the wedding cake has been eaten—then we will truly be married."

At that the giant, impatient for the spawn that would mean his continuance, leapt forward and took up the tray, tipping the cake down his throat whole. "Now," he said. "We will make my children." And he was horrible and his breath stank of his evil designs. Even Anika, brave as she was, drew back from him.

To the icy crags outside Reykjavik Sateen carried Anika. There, among the steaming springs the giant had made his camp, and there he took her in his bed, held her close to his hairy belly.

"Snorri. Snorri Thorsten," she whispered. "Heim!" Within the giant's great stomach her two brothers were yet alive, held captive. "Anika? Is it you?" they replied, as if from a far distance. "This is what you must do," she told them.

"What is this you are saying, my wife?" asked the giant, not unkindly, for a giant. And looking into his eyes as he held her, she said the words. "Now, Snorri!"

Now the naked belly of the giant began to swell and churn from the efforts of the young deerherders within—now it distended as they arched and prodded the inner linings with feet and heads and elbows—now the giant groaned and pressed his four fingered hands to contain this inner enemy. A bump appeared, poked between the fingers and Sateen gasped in misery as yellow bile burst away from the point of a sharpened knife, the very knife which Anika and her mother had baked whole within the wedding cake that morning.

"Oh, betrayer," the giant screamed, his last scream. And he dropped to his knees as Snorri ripped the blade through and opened his gut to the air. 'Your vow..."

"If I must betray, let it not be a betrayal of my family," Anika said. And with her two brothers she drove the reindeer herd back down to the valley.

"And so now I have told you the story and I have told you what the fable means," I said, in the traditional way. "But there is yet another thing I want to boys to take with you to your rest, and may no giants come upon you as you sleep. Do you know what that would be, Snorri--I mean Karl? The child shook his head negatively.

"Always do what your sister tells you."

"He is not as bad as you portray him," Ratka said, after the two boys had been quieted and put to bed, as she retired behind the doors of her own sleeping compartment. "Father is in many ways a great man--a great leader of the town. He does what he must in the ways that he knows."

"As we all do, Ratka," I agreed.

In the night I stirred in dreamsleep, thinking again of my wife, Edme, in Bergen. And that was strange because I had not thought of Edme for many months. I rolled comfortably to my side, luxuriating in the first soft bed I had lain on since leaving the north, and as I did my thighs touched her warm flanks and my eyes came open and wide. It was the young girl curled beside me.

"Wake up, kitten," I spoke. "It's time to get back to your own bed."

"I know what the giant looks like," Ratka whispered without moving.