A pouch and some papers

With a disappointed sigh, mostly aimed at herself for not having been fast enough to help Magnus haul more things onto the boat, Isa pulled the lockbox onto her lap. The blood on the key Father had given her had dried into a tacky stickiness. Isa tried her best to hold back her tears as she leaned over, letting the cool water wash away the last painful vestiges of her father. Once done, she wiped it on her cloak and slotted it in the lock. The taut lockbox relaxed as the hinges decompressed back to their natural state.

The polished wood of the lid glinted in the morning light as Isa opened the box. The inside mirrored that of the earlier chest, soft fur lined the interior to help shield whatever was held within. While Isa knew the details of some of the items inside, she was surprised to see more paper than usual. The small pouch full of silver pennies was moved to the side as Isa had been the one to recount the coins when they purchased some minor supplies from one of the villages they passed a week ago. 67 pennies were nothing to scoff at as it was roughly the wage a freedman would earn after five and a half weeks of labor back home.

A well-worn piece of paper with the indentation of a key was one she also knew well. The deed and key were to the small house in Constantinople that she had been to on her four previous trips. Her memories drifted as she thought of those thick stone walls so different than the tall wooden ones of the longhouses she was used to. Isa could not help but let a ghost of a smile grace her lips as she remembered the day Father showed her around the cozy abode when she was ten. It still made her shiver thinking that that house had been there at least three centuries longer than her village in Norway had existed.

The next item was another paper; this one folded many times and sealed in beeswax. Isa debated on breaking the wax until she noticed that the bottom of it already had been. Lifting it closer for inspection, Isa took in the obvious Greek lettering. Mother had started Isa’s education, but her passing had put that on hold while husband and daughter grieved. Two years later when Father had decided to restart his trade route, he took Isa along with him. Determined not to disappoint his now gone wife, he purchased two small books while in Constantinople and had Isa rigorously study them. It was a slow-going method, but they had all the time in the world during those trips and on the cold winter days stuck inside.

Isa could make out a first name on the top of the folded parcel, Theodorokanos, but not anything else as the thick wax obscured the rest. Her clean fingernail dug into the soft, water-resistant material. A few flakes of the opaque stuff fell into the fur lining, but otherwise the paper relented to her demand. Within was just another folded paper, unwaxed though. Setting aside the protective layer, Isa opened the letter and gasped when something shiny thunked onto the cushioned wood below. Angling the lockbox, the beams of sun caught the lustrous sparkle of gold.

Not believing her luck, or that Father would have hidden this from her, Isa lifted the coin to let the light reflect its radiance. The surface was well burnished, revealing details about the emperor embossed on the front. Basileus Basil II it said. Hand shaking, Isa gently set down the coin and opened the letter. While her Greek was not the best and the writing had been smudged from travel, it seemed that- ‘No, that cannot be right!’ Tilting the letter, Isa re-read that same passage again.

Thank you again, my friend. Words cannot alone convey the depths of what I owe you for saving my life. Retirement is near and so too is ****. My faith-bound conscience will not allow me to abandon a Brother in Christos. I know you denied my repayment once before, and would do so again, so I am bequeathing it to your daughter instead. Come to my estate when you arrive in Constantinople next, so that I may give to her the rest.

The deep throbbing pounds of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Father had shown her these gold coins before. Most of her people traded in silver, as did the Saxons and Franks. Only in the Roman Empire and further east did such metal regularly meet its superior. While needing to adjust for haggling and the ever-changing economic situation, Isa guesstimated that the golden solidus could match fifty silver pennies. With a cautious gentleness, she put the letter and coin back into their protective wax parcel.

The last paper, she could tell, was newer as the folds were still crisp. Her name, written in Father’s handwriting, blazoned the front. Trepidation seeped into her as her hands moved like two lumps of slag. Isa knew what this letter stood for. That Father would have given it to her on the day she told him she was going to stay behind with Magnus. He knew. He always did…

The paper had only been opened for a second before it fell back into the lockbox. With a heavy sniffle, Isa wiped her nose on her sleeve and slammed the box shot. A quick jerk of the key ensured it locked. She turned towards her beloved, **** and unaware of the shared destiny that awaited them.

Wiping her cheeks with a shaking hand, Isa tucked the lockbox underneath the seat and crawled beside Magnus to snuggle in his warmth as she broke down.