Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

slowly stands.
    She strides to the far edge of the circle and snatches a large horn from a small man’s grasp. Gunhilda throws the beer back in her gurgling mouth and then begins kicking up her legs in an odd way. Toke laughs immediately, relaxing the crowd, and he starts clapping as the whole circle joins in. The flutes find a rhythm to match, and her legs seem possessed as the top of her body stays straight and stiff. She twirls around in circles, and I see Erna across the way dancing to the beat. Gunhilda comes around to her, and my heart stops when she sweeps her up and spins around the circle with her giggling away, clapping. I can breathe again when she sets her down, but Erna keeps her hands in the air, hoping Gunhilda will come back to dance. The whole village seems to have gathered around to watch her. It’s the loudest clapping, whistling and cheering I’ve ever heard. I have to cover my ears to keep them from hurting, and move closer toward the chieftain’s throne, where it is slightly quieter.
    Toke calls for Gunhilda and whispers to Dalla, who begrudgingly stands to give up the throne next to him. He pats for Gunhilda to come sit beside him like a favored hunting dog, then passes her a full horn, and they crash horns with a hearty laugh—Gunhilda emptying hers before Toke.
    A man steps out of the circle now, and it takes some time for the clapping to die down before anyone can hear what he’s shouting. I recognize him as the holy man who saved me that terrible day, long ago. He looks greyer with the years, but since he is wearing the same robe, I remember.
    He nods in respect to Toke and speaks with his hands behind his back. “Blessed festival to you and yours, Chieftain Toke.”
    “It is so good of you to come out and thank our gods on this beautiful night, Ansgar.”
    He smiles tightly and nervously scratches at his large mole beside his eye with a pasty white hand. “I do not come to praise your gods, Chieftain, but I do respect your festival.”
    Toke laughs, allowing others to laugh along, then asks, “What will it take for you to love our gods too?”
    “What will it take for you to accept only mine?” Ansgar seems to be challenging him.
    Toke looks around to all of his people. “If you can prove that your one god is stronger than all of ours, then I will accept your baptism.”
    A hush comes over the packed crowd.
    Ansgar seems to be prepared for this and replies, “My one God and I accept your challenge.” He looks around his setting, then puts a single finger up with an idea. “If I were to take that iron poker, red-hot from the fire, and carry it to you in my hand without any sign of damage, will you immediately convert?”
    Toke nods confidently. Everyone holds their breath as the holy man bends down to lift the poker out of the fire and holds it up for everyone to see the glowing. He brings it down slowly into his open palm as the crowd stirs uncomfortably, hearing the sizzle. However, the holy man keeps his face straight and strides to Toke, who pinches his thin lips together in a smirk as he lifts the poker out of Ansgar’s hands.
    The holy man spins around quickly, flinging his arms back and forth, then brings his hands up and proclaims, “A miracle of Christ!”
    Toke stands up and orders Ansgar to hold them out for him to examine, front and back. Then he calls to the crowd. “See it for yourselves! No marks whatsoever!”
    The crowd makes much noise as Ansgar walks around slowly for the whole crowd to witness.
    However, I notice Gunhilda pointing to something on the ground and overhear her say, “He coated his hands in thick beeswax. There the molds lie on the ground.”
    I look down to the shriveled-up fingers of wax and realize he has tricked the chieftain.
    I ready myself for the guards to be set upon him, but Toke shushes Gunhilda. “Do you take me for a fool? Of course I knew what he had planned. But what a fantastic way for mass conversion! This will improve trade greatly.”
    “But you are willing to be baptized for trade alone?”
    He laughs with his head back, tries to cover his outburst with his hand but keeps snickering. “Little does he know this will be the seventh time I have been baptized. To a man with many gods, what is one more?” He keeps laughing. “Plus the Christians always give fine baptism gifts.”
    Gunhilda takes a swig from a fresh horn, smiles back in admiration as the holy man comes up and says a blessing over the bowl of water he