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Imagine it's the spring of 1638.

You're an Englishman from Virginia just arrived in New Amsterdam, the tiny Dutch city perched at the tip of a wilderness island called Manhattan.

As you step off the boat, you encounter a raucous crowd on the waterfront, people of different nationalities, hollering in a variety of languages.

They're gathered around a woman. She's holding up a broomstick which has notches cut into it.

Standing next to you in the crowd is a huge, dark skin fellow. From his dress you think he must be from some exotic place.

You introduce yourself. How do you do, sir? My name is Thompson. I'm English from Liverpool originally, but recently I've been in Virginia.

The other man extends his hand. Anthony Vensali from Morocco. Have you come for the smuggling? I beg your pardon.

Never mind, I see you're a man of business. New Amsterdam is a good place for profits.

That's what I'm hoping. Some of my fellow Englishmen in Virginia told me to keep away from here. But I'm a practical man.

And I know the Dutch are great traders. I'm hoping I can do business. But what exactly is going on here?

Vensali nods towards the woman who seemed quite happy to be at the center of the fuss. That's great rain years.

She's a local legend. The first prostitute in New Amsterdam, she calls herself. Now of course there are many, but she has her claim to fame.

A great! This gentleman wants to know what you're up to. The woman looks at you and gives a welcoming smile.

Well, how do you do, sir? Maybe you'll be wanting to visit me sometime. And if that's the case, you should know that I expect prompt payment for services rendered. This gent here.

She points at the angry man. Well, he refused to pay. I measure each of my customers on this broomstick here. And as you can see, this fellow comes up short and more ways than one.

The crowd erupts and laughter. The man at the center of the storm looks even more furious. He makes a move towards Grete with the back of his hand as if to slap her.

You feel a sudden burst of outrage at this. You thrust yourself between them. Have you no shame, sir? If you harm this woman, you'll have me to deal with.

The crowd oozes and oars at your brave words, but you start to wonder at the wisdom of your act. The man looks like he knows how to fight. He reaches for a knife in his belt.

Just then though, the Moroccan steps forward and wraps his huge arm around Grete's shoulder. She puts her arm around his waist and gives him a loving squeeze.

No, it's me you'll have to deal with. Nobody touches my love. Not unless he's a paying customer.

The crowd roars and laughter and the angry man slinks away. You are left to wonder what places this?

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