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That afflict your victims

Until you learn, see, and feel

Until you change

This nid will last and linger

I sacrifice this horse in Lake Malaren

So that this nid may course upstream through fresh water

And downstream to the sea

To reach all the lands of the earth

And all evil, sly, and cowardly souls

And so that the horse I offer

May give renewed power to the nid

In the spring thaw, the summer rains,

The hail of autumn, and the winter snows

To pour down on you year in and out

To find you, wherever you may hide

N. N.? THESE initials don’t correspond to the real names of those for whom this nid is meant. There’s no point in trying to find out who they are. But they will recognize themselves. And so does everyone who contributed to Stieg’s deadly exhaustion.

A thousand years ago, at this stage of the ceremony, a horse was beheaded with a sword in sacrifice. To the Vikings of those days, this animal was sacred: their friend, companion, and the precious guarantor of their happiness and survival.

In 1987, at a job where I was a foreman and things were quite difficult to manage, a workman, a potter in his spare time, gave me one of his creations to thank me for my efforts with the team. It was two ceramic horses that had fused together in the heat of the kiln. I was particularly fond of this present, which to me symbolized absolute beauty, a job well done, recognition of my work, and the spirit of fraternity. With a sharp blow I separated the two animals, and turning toward the water, I threw one of them into this lake once sailed by Vikings.

In the silence that followed, we gazed for a long time at the place where the horse had vanished, relieved to have heard spoken aloud what we had all been thinking to ourselves. Then we hugged and kissed, vowing always to look after one another. In the darkness, I slipped off to our place to fetch some glasses and single malt Scotch. When I returned, I poured a small libation into the lake before serving my friends. Barley, from which this whisky is made, is also fed to horses, so I symbolically gave strength to my horse to speed him on his mission of revenge. And also assured, according to mythology, that the nid itself would be protected.

By now it was almost eleven thirty. In Sweden, fireworks go off everywhere at midnight on New Year’s Eve, and people pour out into the streets: it’s a wonderfully joyous moment. My friends and I had a drink together, and fifteen minutes later, right before crowds of revelers arrived, we went back to my apartment to continue our special evening. I brought the second horse home with me from the lake and will keep him, even though he cannot stand up anymore on his own.

I felt free and at peace. My ceremony was my therapy, just as The Millennium Trilogy was for Stieg. Now I could envisage going on living without him.

My 2005 Diary

KEEPING A diary helped anchor me in reality. I filled pages and pages, sometimes even noting down what I was having for breakfast! Looking back on it, I think the diary was a way of proving to myself that I was alive. I’ve selected only important dates here, so that the reader may discover what I learned—to my astonishment—as the months went by.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

MEETING AT Norstedts, ten o’clock. The publishing house asked some legal experts what my position could be regarding the management of Stieg’s work. After reviewing their report, I point out that it never mentions the company Stieg discussed with me. What a shock! I find out that the company was never even started! Appalled, I repeat what Stieg explained to me: there’s no point in signing a “domestic partner” contract, as we were thinking of doing in March 2004, because the two of us would be the co-owners of that company. But Svante Weyler simply tries to tell me that the novels have been sold in Norway, that negotiations are under way with the Netherlands…. I don’t want to hear about their business negotiations! I’m devastated. How could Stieg have been so naive?

Weyler promises to get in touch with my lawyer, Malin (who