With their laughter in his ears, Joe fumbled nervously with the door handle. He couldn’t even get that right! Finally it opened, and he slipped through into the large, overcrowded room beyond.

The first thing he noticed was the heat: damp, sweaty and sour. There must have been a hundred or more men, and a few women, tightly packed, all facing forwards. He shuffled in and found himself wedged tightly between a tall ginger-bearded stranger, and a short bald man he vaguely recognised from Amina’s neighbourhood. All were Norlanders, every single one.

He stood on tiptoe: he could just make out the man called Asa standing at the front of the room. There were a few benches and trestle tables at one side, laden with three 57large barrels that must contain ale, he guessed, by the strong yeasty smell in the air.

‘Hey, hungry boy?’ Yannic appeared, holding a wooden plate in one hand, piled with slices of sausage and dense dark bread, and a bowl of soup in the other.

Joe took the food, wobbly with relief. ‘Thank you.’

‘Sit there. Eat. I’ll be back soon.’ Yannic pointed to a bench at the back of the room and then vanished into the crowd.

Joe pushed his way to the bench, only spilling a bit of soup, and wolfed down the food, no longer caring if it was laced with something to make him sleep. If he woke and found himself on the deck of a strange ship, he’d consider it a fair trade right now.

Asa’s voice carried, loud and clear. ‘Now, let’s begin our evening in the usual way.’

There was a smattering of applause, grunts of approval. Then, to Joe’s surprise, everyone started singing. It was a traditional Norlander song about the sea, and Joe half remembered it.

The nearest man seemed to be glaring down at him, so Joe mumbled along, trying not to stand out.

‘Hey, you,’ the man said, leaning over and nudging his shoulder hard.

‘What?’ Joe asked, eating faster. If he was going to get thrown out, he wanted to get as much food down him as possible.

‘You can’t sing without a drink – take this!’ And he passed Joe a slopping cup of something frothy.

‘Er, thanks!’ Joe took it and gulped a mouthful. He’d 58stolen a taste of ale from his father’s mug before, and rec­ognised the strong bitter flavour. He found himself slowly relaxing, warmed by the ale and the food and the company. Maybe he wasn’t alone after all. Maybe there was a place for him here, with these people. They seemed open and kind. He sang louder.

When the song finished, everyone started moving around, looking for friends in the crowd. Joe was deafened by the yelling of names, cries of greeting.

He looked around as he chewed his bread, trying to work out what this meeting was for. People were now huddled in small groups, talking intently.

Yannic reappeared, holding an old blanket which he threw around Joe’s shoulders. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked, coming to stand in front of him. He smiled again in a friendly enough way, but Joe got the feeling he was trying to block his view.