Heritage

Thorleif had stayed a month at the Asir camp. He thought it was not anything more to do for him there. He asked Hans to join him for a final talk. He simply said; I am leaving you now. Hans was surprised. What will you do then, Hans asked. I do not have a chance to get passed the outpost, he admitted. I am certainly not welcomed in the south anymore. And I am imposing a threat on you by staying here.

There is only one thing to do, and that is to fulfill the priests’ demands, Thorleif said. I will sail east. What? Hans asked aloud. I need one of your best boats for that, he added. Hans asked; you are serious about this, aren’t you? It sounds crazy, I know that, Thorleif said. But Harald and I have talked about it. He risked his life for us, and I will risk my life to fulfill his last wish. It is not that strange once you have got to think in Toltec religious ways. In the eyes of most of them, I am Quetzalcoatl, the sun god. I told them that I came from the east, which means Spain for us. However, they think there is only the sea that the sun rises from. I will take my chance to sail across the vast sea and reach Spain. They will see that I return to the sun and understand that they should treat Harald well.

Hans was still puzzled. I agree that Spain must be straight over there somewhere. But that is a long way and you might not even pass any islands. Do you really think you will make it? I will be back somehow, for I owe it to you all and to Harald in particular. I will not argue with you, old man, Hans said. He just shook his head, smiled a little and looked at Thorleif for the last time.

Thorleif’s boat was loaded with water and food, when the three of them sailed on towards the sun. There were many Cherokees and even some Navajos at the shore to wish him a good journey. They spent the evening by the shore. In the morning, before the sun rose, the Cherokee chief pointed at the morning-star and said, Quetzalcoatl. Hans looked once more at the note he got from Thorleif. It said: Find Harald’s room.

Harald was locked up in the cellar under the Pyramid of the Sun. It was dark and the guards made jokes about the eclipsed sun. He did not bother. He had one final task to fulfill. The walls were about to be his historical witness and the carrier of the coming final strategy. For four weeks he scraped runes on the wall telling what had happened, what should be done, and how. When the walls were covered, there was only one simple sign for the sharp stone to do, a long 'I' along the artery on his arms. Then he was done and could finally rest in peace.