His glance went to the purse which hung plump at Niels’ belt. Within that leather were coins of the realm, which should excite no remark. Ingeborg had gotten them from a goldsmith in town whom she likewise knew, a man ready to run his risk of the law finding him out when she would sell him a lump of precious metal at well below its true value. She and her companion bore far more wealth on them in the form of pieces sewn into their garments, but this was against unforseen need in the near future.
Her tone remained cooclass="underline" “What the sum truly comes to, that’ll depend on what we can do with it-wherefore we seek your counsel. It’s trerasure trove, you see.”
Aksel stiffened. “Then it’s the Crown’s! Do you want to be hanged?”
“No, no, naught like that. Let me tell. You must remember Herr Ranild and his cog, how he left earlier in the year on a voyage that he was close-mouthed about, and has not been heard of since. Niels was a crewman, and Ranild brought me along.”
“Hoy?” The dealer recovered from his surprise. “Hm, well, folk hereabouts did wonder what had become of Cod-Ingeborg. But a woman at sea, she’s bad luck.”
“No,” Niels denied in quick anger.
Ingeborg gestured him to keep still and went on: “He was shorthanded and in haste. I could be useful.”
“Yes,” Aksel snickered. Niels glared at him.
Ingeborg kept her head aloft. “Besides,” she said, “word had come to me, as word of this or that often does. Put together with what Ranild heard in different wise, it pointed at a treasure to be gotten, out of a heathen burial in a midocean place. Thus, no robbery, no sacrilege, no withholding of anybody’s due.
“Gold awakened greed, though, and led to killing. You recall what ruffians those were, save for Niels. Afterward a terrible storm smote. The upshot was that only we two are left alive of the souls who fared forth upon Berning, and the ship is lost. But we brought certain metal ashore, and now we mean to have the good of it.”
Silence fell, until Aksel snapped. “Is this true?”
“I’ll swear to you by every saint, or whatever oath you wish, that each last word is true,” Ingeborg said. “So will Niels.”
The youth nodded violently.
“Hm, hm.” Again Aksel tugged his greasy hair. “You’ve spun me half a thread of your yarn.”
“I told you we would. The reasons why need not trouble you.” Ingeborg grinned. “What did you ever tell your wife about me?”
She grew earnest again, tautened still more, and urged, “You stand to gain much for slight effort and no hazard. We seek not to overstep the law. Rather, we want guidance to keep us within it. At the same time, it’d be foolish to blab, when a mighty man can always find some pretext to strip us bare.”
“Ye-e-es,” Aksel agreed. “you’re clever to see from the outset that you need a patron, who’ll shield you and get you into a trade where you can prosper quietly.” He frowned at the ring, which he turned over and over on the table before him.
“The Hansa,” Niels blurted. “Their ships carry most cargoes throughout the North, don’t they? I hear how the cities of the League grow ever greater-kings fear them—Could I become a shipowner of theirs—”
Aksel shook his head. “Scant hope there, lad. I know them well. They’re grasping devils, jealous of what they have, unfriendly to outsiders, chary of aught that might upset by the least bit the power of a magnate or a guild. For instance, Visby on the island of Gotland, Visby grants broad freedoms to merchants, but only if they’re Gotlander born. I think if you went to one of those uncrowned princes, he’d just lead you on till he saw how to get you wrung dry, and belike me into the bargain.”
Niels flinched. Ingeborg laid a hand over his. “There must be somewhere to go!” he protested.
“Maybe, maybe,” Aksel said. “You’ve caught me off guard. Let me think—” He set the ring twirling on the table. Its whiff seemed unnaturally loud. “Um-m-m.. . Copenhagen. . . big seaport, enfeoffed to the bishop of Roskilde, who lets no guilds take root there. . . aye, each burgher pursues his trade under license of his own from the city authorities. . . . Maybe. I know hardly anything more, for little of my stock goes that way.”
“You see,” Ingeborg said, “if you allow yourself to, you can help us. Take time to think onward. First, if I know you, you’ll dicker about your price.”
Aksel lifted his face. They saw it harden. “Why are you sure I will?” he demanded.
“What mean you?” Ingeborg replied. Niels stared in dismay.
“You’ve told me well-nigh naught, and what you did tell is doubtless lies.”
“Remember, we’ll both swear before God to the truth of it.”
“Perjury would be petty among your sins, Cod-lngeborg.” Aksel thrust forward his jaw. “Your story strains belief. Far likelier is that you twain unearthed a hoard in Denmark-unless you committed murder on the high seas; and the gallows punishes that too. Would you drag me down with you? Wariness beseems me.”
The woman considered him. “You act the coward, then.”
“I’m a law-abiding man who has a household to support.”
“Shit! I said you act the coward, like a strolling player. I know you, I know your kind,” Ingeborg avowed in huge scorn. “You’ve. decided, all at once, you’ll rob us yourself. Well, you can’t do it. Dismiss us to try elsewhere, or bargain like a decent scoundrel.”
Niels shifted about and laid hand to the sailor’s knife he wore.
Aksel made a smile. “Ah, now, my dear. It’s only that I’ve no wish either to flirt with the hangman. I need assurance-to start with, a look at that hoard.”
Ingeborg rose. “Come, Niels. Here is nothing for us.”
“Wait.” Aksel’s tone stayed calm. “Sit down. Let’s talk further.”
Ingeborg shook her head. “The years have given me a nose for treachery. Come, Niels.”
The youth found his feet. Aksel raised an arm. “I bade you wait,” he said. “Or must I call my apprentices to seize you?”
“Never will they!” Niels yelled.
Ingeborg hushed him. “What have you in mind?” she asked quite coolly.
“Why, this,” Aksel answered with his ongoing smile. “I suspect you’re guilty either of piracy or of stealing royal property. Certain it is that you’ve not so much as wondered what tax may be due on your gains. Now, you are paupers and without families of your own, but God has called me to a higher station in life; I’ve more, far more to lose. Why should I risk ruin. . . for anything less than the entire hoard?”
When they stood moveless, he added, “I’d give you something, of course.”
They stayed mute. He scowled. “Very well,” he said, and slapped the table. “Be clear in your minds that I did not offer to become your accomplice. I just put a question to see how you’d behave. My duty is to report this matter-no, not to the sheriff; direct to the baron. Meanwhile, I can’t let you escape, can I?
“Think well, you twain. I’ve heard that Junker Falkvor’s executioner is more skillful than most. He’ll get your whole tale out of what is left of you, for his lord.”
“And you’ll have a nice reward, no doubt,” the woman fleered.
“That is the cautious course for me,” Aksel pursued. “I’d be sorry to follow it, for I’ve happy memories of you, Ingeborg, and your comrade has a whole life before him. Therefore sit down, and let me try bringing you to reason.”
“Niels,” Ingeborg said.
Her friend understood. His knife came forth, of terrifying size in that dim room.
“We are going,” he said. “You’ll take us out. If we have any trouble, you’ll die first. Up!”
Abruptly blanched, Aksel rose. This was no longer a boy who confronted him. Niels sheathed the blade but kept him close by. Ingeborg dropped the ring down her bosom.
They left the house as three. In an alley some distance off, Niels released Aksel. After the trader had stumbled into the street, Ingeborg’s bitterness broke loose: “I thought he was the least bad of the lot. Where in Christendom is mercy?”