Captain Contarini was furious when he saw me. While the sailors watched with interest, the captain grabbed my arm and hustled me off onto the dock.

"I will not be locked belowdecks," I said before he could speak.

"Then you will not travel on my ship."

"Very well. Give back my money."

"Certainly not. We struck a bargain. Just because you choose not to keep your end of it, it is no concern of mine." He turned and began to head back up the gangplank. Suddenly he swung around to face me. "And do not think of getting your man Serge to intercede. I am a good friend to the authorities here and no one will listen to the claims of an unescorted_____." The word was Portuguese, but his glance was so scathing I knew it was something insulting.

I stood there on the dock, enraged at the captain and even more annoyed with myself for my rash decision. I did not like the idea of going back to Serge and Sofi.

Impulsively I decided I would find the other ship, the one with the disreputable Viking captain.

I found the longship after some hunting. It was off in a little-used part of the harbor, but I knew it at once. There was no other ship like it. It was long and slender, with a single mast, and it sat low in the water. The curving bow and stern posts were indistinguishable from each other, except that there was a steering oar at the rear, and when I got closer, I could see that the bow had a carved figurehead. Because the figure was so weatherbeaten, I had trouble making out what kind of beast it was, with its staring eyes and fierce, bared teeth, but I thought it was a bear. Which could be a good omen, I told myself.

There seemed to be no one about, so I stood, gazing at the ship. Despite the longship's peeling paint and worn appearance, I liked its lines. I noticed there was cargo on board, lashed down and covered with animal skins.

"You there!" came a harsh voice from behind me. He was speaking in Njorden. "What do you want?"

I turned to face an enormous man with a long, bushy beard and a pair of fierce blue eyes. He had long, bushy hair as well, and both beard and hair were butter yellow, though streaked with gray. Over his broad shoulders he wore a cloak that was fastened by an intricately wrought brooch, the metal tarnished. A long knife in a leather sheath lay against one hip, and around his neck was a necklace from which dangled what I recognized to be the silver hammer of Thor; it, too, was tarnished.

"Pardon me," I replied quickly. "I was admiring your ship."

"Njorden, are you?"

I nodded.

"Then get along to your mother. The harbor is no fit place for a maid," he said dismissively, and he boarded the slender ship with an easy grace despite his size.

"I am looking for passage to Njord," I called to him.

"You'll find none here," he said without glancing in my direction.

"I understand you journey north."

"I carry only cargo, not passengers."

"Please, sir. I will work. I must get to..."

"No!" he thundered, this time glaring at me with those fierce eyes.

"Forgive Thor's ill manners, miss," said a voice behind me, also in Njorden. "He is short on ale."

I turned to see two men. They were rough-looking in garb and hygiene, but there was a twinkle in the eye of the smaller of the two, the one who had spoken. He was slight in build, though he looked agile and his thin arms were roped with muscle. His skin was deeply browned by the sun. He moved quickly as he boarded the knorr and went to a sea chest, on which he settled himself comfortably, leaning up against the side of the boat, his hands behind his head.

The other man was fair haired, tall and slow moving, with a broad, ugly face. He said nothing, though he looked calm and not unkind. He nodded at me as he, too, climbed on board.

"Ask if she cooks, Thor," said the small man. "I don't think I can abide another sea journey eating your cooking."

"I can cook," I said quickly. "And I'll pay for my passage besides."

"Listen to that, she cooks and has a dowry." The small man grinned. "Tell me, are you betrothed, maid, for if not, I would make a fine husband for any..."

"I'll snatch out that flapping tongue of yours, Gest, if you don't get to work!" Thor bellowed.

The small man rose quickly and began to do something with the rigging.

"Please," I said to the man called Thor. Though he was intimidating, I managed to look him straight in the eye. "I haven't any money..." I began.

He snorted. "Be off with you. You've wasted enough of my time."

"But I do have this..." I continued, undeterred. I took out my leather wallet. I hated to give up another of my beautiful dresses, and so soon after the first. But I had to travel north.

As I shook out the gold dress, all three men stared. But then Thor growled, "What do I want with a lady's gown?" He pointedly turned his back on me and returned to his work.

The one called Gest said, "Don't be a fool, Thor. Why, you could buy a brand-new knorr with what you'd get in Paris for a dress like that. And you could fill its hold with enough ale to last a year, to boot."

Thor slowly turned back, his face showing a flicker of interest. "Give it here," he said, stepping back onto the dock. He ran the glittering fabric through his dirty calloused fingers. "Very well. I'll take you north," he stated gruffly.

"Oh, thank you," I said.

"I'll have this now," he said, taking the gown from me. "We leave at sundown." Roughly he folded up the golden fabric, and tucking it under his arm, he set off for town.

"You won't get nearly as much as it's worth, here in La Rochelle," Gest called after him. But Thor ignored him.

Gest shrugged. "The man's got a mighty thirst on him." He turned his attention to me. "Well, welcome aboard the good ship Sif" he said. "What's your name, lass?"

"Rose," I replied.

"Rose, is it? I am Gest, at your service, and this is my mate, Goran." The fair-haired man nodded at me. "I don't suppose, Miss Rose, you know how to make raspberry cake out of salt pork and hard bread?"

"Perhaps not, but I can manage rommegrot, if you have a measure of wheat flour," I said.

A wide smile creased his face. "Ah, bless you, child," he said.

"May I ask," I said, "where exactly this ship is headed?"

"You may well ask. The destination is upward of Suroy, but with old Thor at the steering oar, you never can tell. If he's full of ale, which is what that golden dress is headed for, he's likely to steer us into a storm cloud thinking he's found Valhalla."

I felt giddy with excitement. Suroy was near the top of Njord and this was just what I'd hoped for, though I was also a little uneasy at Gest's words. I could only pray that he was exaggerating.

I decided to use the time until sundown to write a letter to my family. When I was done I went back to the caravel and, keeping out of sight of Captain Contarini, managed to find a friendly sailor who was willing to take my letter—along with the last of my coins—across to Tonsberg, and then make sure it got from there to Andalsnes. Of course, I had no guarantee he would do as he said, but I sensed an honesty in him, as well as a dislike for the way his captain had treated me.

It was approaching twilight when I found my way back to the knorr. But before I even saw the ship, I could hear Thor singing at the top of his voice.