Ring of Fire II(20)

The alehouse door swung open abruptly. Per jerked around to see if it was yet a another problem.



The first thing he saw was naked steel.



Bloody naked steel.



The girl with the bloody knife in her hand looked terrified, but there was something about her expression that said: "I'll cut at least half of you before I go down."





Ginny clutched her bloody penknife as if her life depended on it. It probably did. This place looked like no refuge either. It looked like a whole tavern full of the same kind of men who had attacked her in the alley. Two minutes earlier, she'd been trying to decide whether to go back, either to the road or even to the quayside, when her adventure had turned into a horror story.



Papa hadn't wanted his little girl to go. That was more than half of why she'd decided to do it. She hadn't expected him to be right. . . .



The four of them had rounded the corner in front of her. She'd nearly turned and run. But this was supposed to be the safest city in Europe, outside of Grantville itself. She'd kept walking.



Then one of them had said, in German, "Fresh meat!"



It had gone downhill very fast from there. And now the door under the green bush that she'd run to had led her to worse.



One of the street-thugs swaggered his way in. He looked right at home here. He probably was. His two companions were just behind him. One was bleeding. They looked like sharks, closing for the kill.



Then a big hand reached out of the shadows next to the door and took hold of the thug's jacket front, and lifted him off his feet.





Per wasn't ever sure just what made him intervene. Maybe it was her expression. Maybe her clothes—this was no dockyard tramp. Maybe it was just that in Delsbo you didn't treat women like that. Besides, he didn't like the fellow's looks. "And what are you looking for, mister?" Per said. "Besides trouble, ja."



Karl instantly left off his flirtation. "Maybe they are lost," he said, cracking his knuckles.



"That slut cut Heinrich and Wolf and tried to stick me . . ."



Per's eyes narrowed. He spoke quietly. Most patrons were still focused on the arm wrestling. If the crowd got involved, this could turn very ugly. "Ja. So maybe your friends don't know a slut from a respectable woman. This one looks like gentry. You get caught taking liberties with one of those and the justices will see you get cut, too. Cut off."



The sailor's eyes widened. But his blood was up. "There's only two of you."



"Three," said Olof.



And then things happened quite fast. The second fellow should never have decided that it was a good time to try and grab Karl. The ruffians were a lot more than half-drunk. That probably messed up their judgment. It certainly wrecked their chances in the fight. The easiest and most peaceful solution was to toss them into the alley, so Per started by doing that. That got his man out of the brawl, and neatly knocked the fourth fellow, who had just arrived, right back into the wall of the house on the far side of the alley. Karl placed his fist on the jaw, and his foot in the belly, of the falling man, and Olof threw his opponent over his hip. Per assisted his departure with a foot on his backside, as he staggered to his feet.



Then it was just a case of closing the door.



The girl stood there, white-faced, knife in hand. She'd stepped forward to help. Per found himself smiling at her. A courageous little sparrow, this one. He ducked his head in a bow. "You're very brave, fraulein," he said reassuringly. "But you don't need the knife anymore."





Ginny, still shivering, turned to look at him. She didn't feel brave in the least, but the young man with the huge hands smiled encouragingly.



"Very brave," he repeated. "Four against you, and you only armed with that itty-bitty knife. But you can put it away now. Really."



Ginny took a deep breath and studied her rescuer. From his looks and accented German she guessed he was Swedish. "Please," she said. "I'm looking for the American Consulate. I must have taken the wrong turn."



"I don't know about this 'Consulate,' " he said, shaking his head, "We only came here yesterday. But be easy. We will help you. American, eh!" He bobbed his head. "My name is Per, fraulein, and this is my brother Karl . . ." The handsome youngster smiled and interrupted in Swedish.



"He wants to know your name," Per said.



"I'm Ginny," Ginny said. "Ginny Cochran."



Karl bowed, as her third rescuer scowled and muttered something. Per chuckled. "I get there. You are not forgotten, Olof. Fraulein Cochran, this is Olof, my youngest brother."



The scowling face smoothed out for a moment as the tall youth gave a minute nod.