The Curse of Goodness
By Tom Thowsen
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About this ebook
Tubbe Eriksson has received a concerning royal request: his assistance is required for a meeting with the Hanseatic League. Tubbe fears that it may be a trap and that an event from his past is about to catch up with him. At worst, he risks being accused of high treason. Therefore, he tries to recall the events that transpired 10 years prior – a very dramatic and intricate affair. Tubbe himself believes he acted in good faith.
The Curse of Goodness is a fierce novelette in which good intentions have unexpected consequences. The novelette (12.000 words) is written by the Norwegian author Tom Thowsen and offers a different angle on the story in his previous novel, Kayaweta.
Tom Thowsen
About Tom Thowsen If you enjoy books of Wilbur Smith and Ken Follett, you`d likely enjoy Tom Thowsen too. He is a Norwegian illustrator and fiction writer with a passion for history. This passion is also reflected in his books, where he often uses two different time frames, two different stories woven together. One from the present time and the other from the past. His novels have received very good receptions from both readers and newspapers. Halden Arbeiderblad said this about Kayaweta, his newest novel: "Thowsen manages to combine facts with fiction and writes excellent novels." Another newspaper, Demokraten, concluded: "The author sparkles with the joy of storytelling and knowledge."
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The Curse of Goodness - Tom Thowsen
Sweden, February 16th, 1372
I’m standing by this frosty window, scraping away at it until a tiny hole to the outside is created. The view outside is terrible. It’s dark and snowflakes are whipping against the glass. All the huts and houses have disappeared in the infernal white of the snowstorm. I reckon I’ll be snowed in for a couple of days. It’s absolutely freezing.
I’ve received a request from King Magnus and his son, King Haakon. It appears they need my help. There’s talk of negotiating with the Hanseatic League in Tønsberg. They’re growing stronger by the day and continue to demand control over our Norwegian towns. More and more trade routes across the country are being conquered, except for the ones to the North and the West of Bjørgvin. The only people who are permitted to trade there are Norwegian merchants. No matter what the King says, however, I refuse to journey to Norway.
I fear that it might be a trap, and for good reason. There are people out there for whose silence I have paid. But what will they do once the money runs out ...
No, I must write down what happened in case I’m accused of treason. I must be prepared.
Oh, God, I’m all but a puddle of sweat. My head feels as though it’s aflame.
Figuring that a drink might help calm me, I grab the jug on my desk and pour myself a glass of the wine I’ve been saving for the past decade. It’s the best wine in Vinland - the country at the edge of the world. So far away from the world as we know it, west of both Iceland and Greenland, which is where the source of my worries all began.
I raise the glass to my mouth and drink eagerly. Oh, how wonderful it tastes! A cure for the body as well as the soul.
As I take that first sip, a memory of a warm summer day in 1361 comes rushing back. I was a young and inexperienced knight with nothing but the best intentions. Innocent and without so much as a drop of blood on my conscience. I was on my first mission for the Pope and the King. To make matters even more exciting, it was a secret one at that! Naturally, I was eager to stand out in the line of duty. So very eager!
Needless to say, when we finally arrived at Straumøy pier after many weeks at sea I was full of anticipation. There we were, at this island hidden deep within Straumfjord in a country known as Vinland. We must have been quite a sight to see when we finally arrived. The vessel that brought us to this faraway land, Sunniva, was a sight for sore eyes. She was a powerful ship of war, decorated with flags and pennants that waved in the weak winds. All hands were on deck. The soldiers amongst us were in full gear, the monks in their robes, and the beautiful virgin beside me in the most expensive green silk money can buy, covered in lovely embroidery. Her copper hair was cascading down her elegant back; she was slim and beautiful on all counts. Her name was Birgitta Paulsdatter and I loved her more than anything else in this life. She was mine and mine alone. Everyone else looked at me with envy in their eyes. Birgitta and I were courting, but had yet to become engaged, despite how badly we both wanted to be. We were so happy and in love. Being welcomed as heroes was one of the most memorable moments of my entire life. No doubt about it!
The pier was brimming with people of all ages. Whereas the Skrælings were dressed in leather – the women in dresses and the men in nothing but loincloths – the settlers were dressed like us. Some of the