January 3, 871 AD
Denmark, the trading port of Ribe
The sun had just dipped below the horizon.
Usually, the marketplace of Ribe was a place of loud laughter, clinking silver, and drunken sailors boasting of their recent raids, but a pall of gloom and sadness was beginning to hang over the people.
Knud, a local blacksmith with broad shoulders and calloused hands, stood near the edge of a small tavern.
He rubbed his hands together, his eyes fixed on the path leading toward the town square.
Beside him, his lifelong friend Halfdan took a long, bitter swig from a wooden mug of ale.
"I still cannot believe it, Knud..." Halfdan muttered, wiping the foam from his braided beard. "They are actually going to execute him tonight. Right in the center of our own town."
"Keep your voice down, damn it," Knud warned quietly, glancing nervously around the crowded street.
There were far too many strange ears in Ribe these days...
