Chapter 2 - Sven the Goat

If there was one creature in the village with less faith in Rikus Rikmansen than the villagers themselves, it was Sven the Goat. And Sven knew Rikus better than anyone.

The two had grown up together. Quite literally. When Rikus was a boy of eight winters, he had discovered a tiny white goat trapped in a thorn bush near the edge of the forest.

The goat was frightened. Rikus was excited. Neither had much idea what they were doing. "Don't worry," young Rikus had declared confidently. "I shall rescue you."

The goat immediately looked worried. What followed was remembered as one of the shortest rescue attempts in village history. Rikus became tangled in the same thorn bush. Then somehow fell into a stream. Then lost one of his boots.

The goat escaped on its own. For most people, this would have been the end of the story. For Rikus and the goat, it was the beginning. The goat followed him home. Nobody knew why. Least of all the goat. Rikus named him Sven. The goat appeared mildly disappointed by the choice.

From that day onward they were inseparable.  As the years passed, Sven developed a remarkable talent. He could predict disaster. Not in the mystical sense. He simply knew Rikus.

Whenever Rikus smiled confidently, Sven immediately prepared for trouble. Whenever Rikus announced he had a brilliant idea, Sven looked for the nearest exit. Whenever Rikus said, "What could possibly go wrong?" Sven began running.

Experience had taught him this was the safest response. One summer afternoon, Rikus decided to build a fishing dock.

The village already had a perfectly good fishing dock. This did not discourage him. "It will be twice as large," he declared. "It will be magnificent." The villagers exchanged worried glances.

Three days later the new dock collapsed. Unfortunately it collapsed onto a group of smugglers attempting to hide stolen silver beneath the old pier. The smugglers were captured. The silver was recovered.

The Jarl praised Rikus for exposing the criminals. Rikus accepted the compliments with great pride. Sven spent the afternoon staring at the ocean in silent disbelief.

Another time, Rikus attempted to hunt a great stag. He spent hours tracking it through the forest. Eventually he became lost. Then more lost. Then impressively lost.

The stag eventually found him. The animal charged. Rikus fled. Sven charged the stag. The stag fled. Rikus later described the event as a carefully planned hunting strategy. Sven chewed a fence post in frustration.

The story grew throughout the village. Children began drawing pictures of Sven rescuing Rikus. The blacksmith painted a goat upon his workshop door.

Even the fishermen joked that Sven should be elected Jarl. The goat received more respect than many warriors. This annoyed Rikus tremendously.

"People think you're smarter than me," he complained one evening  Sven stared at him. The silence lasted a very long time.

Finally Rikus nodded. "Fair point."

Despite the jokes, nobody doubted their friendship. Where Rikus went, Sven followed. Into forests. Onto fishing boats. Into taverns. Into places goats were definitely not supposed to be. Especially taverns.

The owner of the village mead hall had attempted to ban Sven on six separate occasions. Each attempt ended with Sven somehow wandering back inside. No one could explain it. Even the goat seemed surprised.

As the day of the great voyage approached, the village grew busy with preparations. The longship Rikmans-yflir waited upon the shore. Supplies were loaded. Sails were inspected. Warriors sharpened their weapons.

Rikus continued searching for his missing axe. He searched every building in the village. Twice. The axe remained missing.

Late one evening, Sven wandered into Rikus's house. The Viking had fallen asleep beside a pile of maps, ropes, boots, shields, and half-packed supplies.

His snoring rattled the windows. Sven quietly walked around the room. Something beneath the bed caught his eye. There, hidden in the shadows, lay the missing battle axe.

The goat stared at it. He stared at the sleeping Rikus. Then he stared at the axe again. After a moment he turned around and walked away.

Some lessons, Sven decided, were best learned the hard way. The following morning the entire village gathered at the harbour.

The ships were ready. The tide was rising. Adventure awaited. Rikus arrived carrying everything except the one thing he still could not find. His axe. The villagers laughed. The crew laughed. Even the Jarl smiled.

Rikus ignored them all.

He climbed aboard the Rikmans-yflir and struck what he believed was a heroic pose. A sudden gust of wind knocked him into a barrel. The laughter doubled. Sven calmly walked up the gangplank and stood beside his friend. Whatever foolishness lay ahead, he would face it as he always had.By cleaning up Rikus's mistakes.

As the longship prepared to sail, neither Viking nor goat knew that the journey ahead would take them far beyond the known world.

But Sven suspected one thing  If Rikus was leading the expedition, trouble was already on its way. And trouble, as always, would probably find them first.