It was my brother-in-law’s idea to stay in Gamla Stan for a few days during a family pilgrimage to Sweden. This old-town neighborhood of Stockholm seemed like a good place to dip into Swedish history and get a flavor for the old ways. Narrow cobblestone streets led us to our rented apartment, a 500-year-old residence with thick walls that we wished could talk.
On our first evening, a mysterious and charming guide regaled us with tales of murder and sin in the early days of Gamla Stan as we wound through rain-damp streets. Through his descriptions, we could almost hear wagon wheels clatter and swords clang in the night. He walked us up the narrowest street in the city—a mere 35 inches wide—where violent muggings took place beyond pools of flickering lamplight on dark nights of yore.
