Viking Battle Prayers
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The great gods, the Æsir and the Vanir, the jötunn, and the gods of the North.
May your spirits guide us.
May we have the strength to fight well.
May our enemies fear us.
May our spears find their mark.
May we win glory in battle.
May we never be betrayed by our allies.
May we never be betrayed by our enemies.
May we never be betrayed by ourselves.
May we be blessed with a swift death.
May we be blessed with a long life.
May we be blessed with food and drink.
May we be blessed with good fortune.
May we be blessed with peace.
May we be blessed with victory.
May we be blessed with plunder.
May we be blessed with gold.
May we be blessed with women.
May we be blessed with children.
May we be blessed with wealth.
May we be blessed with fame.
May we be blessed with honor.
May we be blessed with glory.
May we be blessed with knowledge.
May we be blessed with wisdom.
Let us be blessed with courage.
May the gods grant us victory.
And let it not end until the last man is slain, and the last weapon has been broken.
***
I remember what I was before my father’s death; I was no different from anyone else, I had dreams, ambitions, and hopes. But now all that seems a lifetime ago.” –Jarl Orm in “A Dream of Vengeance”
Hail to the Jarls and warriors who fell during the great battles. Hail to them!
They gave their lives so others may live, they died to protect their homes. They were men of honor and virtue, who lived as true men should. They stood tall against evil, and they died without shame or regret.
They fought bravely for what they believed in, and they are remembered as heroes. Their names will forever be spoken in reverence. May we learn from them and strive to follow their example.
We must take up the torch of this legacy and carry it on to new generations. Our ancestors did not die in vain. We can do better than them if we try hard enough, just like they did. Let us remember our fallen brothers-in-arms, let us honor their memory by remembering how they loved their wives and children.
And when a day comes that you stand at an impasse between right and wrong, ask yourself this: Which would Thorgrim the Lucky and Hrolf have done? If they were standing here beside me, which path would they choose? It is only when we stand alone against the tide that we make our own destiny. Remember their sacrifices today, and always.
“I am a warrior born and bred,” he said. “I love nothing more than to go into battle, and I love nothing more than to come home alive.” –Jarl Harald Hardrada in “The Sword of the Norsemen”
There is one thing more important in combat than any other, and that is luck. Without good fortune, a man cannot hope to survive. With luck, a man can lose a hundred fights and still live out his days as a free man. For those who know the truth of this, victory becomes meaningless.
For them the only victory is survival. To them, there is no such thing as a defeat because they understand that there will always be another battle and another chance to fight again. So let them be honored as victors, for they have defeated death itself.
In war, luck is not about fate or the stars; luck is something you control. Luck is your ability to think clearly in a crisis, and to make the right decisions quickly when you need to. Luck is having friends who are willing to sacrifice themselves for you and your cause, and for whom you are willing to do the same.
Luck is knowing when to fight and when to run, to attack and when to retreat; luck is knowing where to place your body and how best to use its strength and speed. Luck is knowing when to strike fast, and when to stay behind cover until your enemy is exhausted from attacking you.
In war luck is everything. A warrior does not rely on luck alone, but he knows that luck can save him if his mind is focused. And the more a warrior thinks, the less luck he needs.
The best defense is a good offense, as the saying goes. That’s not just true of battles, it applies to any conflict and it’s especially important in war because it means you won’t be caught flat-footed and vulnerable if your opponents surprise you.
The only way to avoid that is by being aggressive, and by striking first whenever possible. You have to be prepared for your enemies’ moves and counter their attacks even while making a move of your own. Don’t wait for them to attack you first, make the first move and then attack them back. Always be ready.
Warriors who know their place in the scheme of things don’t waste time thinking about their fate or whether they’ll survive or not, they just focus on staying alive and winning. As long as they’re fighting they’re alive, and as long as they’re winning they feel that they are too.
This simple truth makes all the difference in combat, which is why it’s essential that every warrior know their place. No matter how strong or skilled or lucky a man might be, he cannot overcome his weaknesses, and these often lead to failure.
There are some men who are blessed with good eyesight, for instance, and they use it to great advantage in battle. But a man who has trouble seeing properly would be wise to compensate by learning hand signals so that no one suffers because of poor vision.
Everyone should do what they can to help the whole, for a single man can never hope to accomplish anything significant. He is only an obstacle standing in the way of progress.
If a man lacks skills and knowledge, he must seek them elsewhere. If he wants to fight well, then he needs training. If he wishes to master his art then he must learn from his elders and listen to them. A warrior must know who he is before he can aspire to become someone else.
He must know his limits and strive to exceed them. And a man who understands this will be respected by all because he knows how much he himself could have accomplished if only he had put forth more effort. But even if a warrior knows this about himself, others may find it hard to believe.
That’s why it is imperative to always look and act like the warrior you want to be. Never show weakness, and never try to hide it either, because it shows fear. When a man is afraid he cannot perform at his best. Only courage can overcome that fear.
When you see a warrior in battle, you should know that he’s doing everything within his power to win. Even if he looks calm and collected on the outside, inside he might be sweating and scared shitless, and he knows he’ll die if he’s caught unawares or taken off guard.
It doesn’t matter if a warrior is a prince or a pauper, the only thing that matters is what happens on the battlefield. What a man wears and where he came from don’t mean anything when two men meet face-to-face and fight. Every man is a warrior on the field of battle.
Some are better than others, and some have more skill and talent, but they’re still men at heart-fighting for their lives. A man is judged on his actions, not his words. Words are cheap, and anyone can utter them.
A man’s true character is revealed in the heat of combat, where his strengths and weaknesses come out. Those who are weak cannot overcome their fears; those who lack skill lose in any contest. But the most important attribute in a warrior is bravery, for bravery is the only thing that gives him the chance to live another day.
A coward runs away from danger or hides behind others. Brave warriors stand-alone and strike back. They understand that courage isn’t something you possess, it’s what you do.
***
In order to be a real warrior, a man has to be strong both physically and mentally. To excel in battle a man has to understand himself and have a clear sense of purpose. Strength allows you to defeat an opponent with brute force, but courage gives you the confidence to withstand the blow and hit back again. The strongest warrior wins, not the smartest.
There was a time when we had no name for our enemy, and he had none for us. His lands were called the Darklands, and ours were called the Kingdom of Gondar. We fought each other over the scraps left by everyone else, and our wars grew more violent and bloody with each passing generation.
Men were forced to choose sides or die. Our leaders made decisions based on greed and self-interest rather than common sense and patriotism, and their actions led to more bloodshed and chaos. So many died that the land turned dark with death and despair, and no one could stop it or turn it aside.
Then there appeared a new leader among our people—a warrior whose name is lost to history, though it should be remembered as a shining beacon in times of darkness. This man understood the need for peace in a world filled with war, and he used his position and influence wisely to make it happen.
The people loved him for his strength and wisdom, and they listened to his advice. He brought our people together in friendship, and we formed alliances against enemies instead of battling each other.
He knew that we needed friends to protect ourselves from our enemies, so he built up the armies of the kingdom and began building a navy in order to keep enemies at bay. But while he was busy working to protect us, our enemies had already begun plotting their next move.
We had no idea who they were, or where they came from. They waged war with us from their hidden strongholds in the Darklands, far beyond the reach of our soldiers’ arrows, and seemed to have an endless supply of men and resources.
They attacked without warning and vanished just as quickly. We tried to find out where they were coming from and what they wanted, but it was impossible because they’d vanish into thin air. Their secret stronghold became known as the Valley of Doom, and we named our enemy the Black Death.
He had conquered all of the lands that lay north of our kingdom, and now he planned to invade our southern borders as well. In fact, he was probably already on his way, because he did not care about diplomacy. He saw us as nothing more than pawns in his game, and he wanted the wealth of Gondar for himself.
That is how it began when a man who had once been a soldier returned home. I didn’t realize it then, and neither did anyone else. No one had ever seen him before, even though he must have come to the castle years earlier.
He wore the black cloak of a Crusader, and he was accompanied by his servant and bodyguard, who always stayed beside him like an angry dog. There he stood, tall and confident, his eyes scanning the audience room where hundreds of nobles and knights gathered, waiting for the king to arrive.
It was a grand event, and all the great men of the realm assembled to show themselves and impress the crown prince, who would be crowned within days. When the herald announced the presence of the king, everyone looked expectantly toward the doors leading to the throne room.
That is when this mysterious man stepped out from the shadows, walking slowly across the stone floor, his cloak flapping around him as if he were some kind of ghost.
The lords and princes bowed low, trying to catch a glimpse of the man behind the mask. Then they watched as he reached the front of the assembly and knelt at the feet of the heir apparent. King James was stunned by this gesture. “Why have you done this?” he asked in wonderment, kneeling alongside his son.
“You are my father,” said the young prince in response. “I love you.”
James smiled sadly and nodded. “Of course, I am your father. Now rise. And may God watch over you.”
He rose and took his seat at the royal table, and the rest of us followed suit. We all sat in silence for a moment, watching him smile and nod to the guests seated near him. A few of them had begun whispering amongst themselves, wondering aloud what was happening.
One of those guests was Sir William Berington of Northshield, one of the most decorated knights in the kingdom’s history. He had served as a mercenary in the Crusades and had earned numerous honors during his military career.
After returning home, he became a powerful baron and held several offices within the court of James’s grandfather. When it was time to swear loyalty to the new heir, Berington had chosen his words carefully in front of the gathered nobles and knights.
“King James has many fine qualities,” he began. “But he lacks courage. His reign will fail, and he knows it. If the crown passes to someone who has real bravery, it can only bring glory to our country.”
It was bold of him to speak openly, and a few other nobles were taken aback by his statement. Yet none of us dared say anything in his defense, and so he continued. “Prince John is brave and loyal. I know this because I traveled to the Holy Land with him.
He is honest in his dealings, and he does not seek out a personal gain while serving as king. I have witnessed him risk his life against men twice his size, and I’ve seen him fight for people whom he doesn’t even know. I have fought alongside him, and I cannot deny his courage.”
A gasp went up throughout the assembly hall.
Barrington had never spoken publicly about Prince John before, and now it seemed as if every eye in the place was fixed upon me. Even my mother stared at me in shock. She knew I loved him, but she also knew it had never been made public knowledge.
As for Berington, he continued: “When we fought together there in Jerusalem, we learned what it means to truly serve others. He gave himself to help a wounded friend, even though he was badly outnumbered. When a group of armed men attacked our camp, he led his companions into danger without a second thought. All of us owe our lives to him.”
As Berington spoke, I felt as though the entire world was watching me again. Everyone wanted to hear more; it was just that no one dared ask the next question. I could feel my cheeks burning as people stared at me.
Finally, someone did: “Who are you, Sir Barrington? And why do you care whether we vote for Prince John or not?”
The knight was unfazed. “My name is Sir William Berington. You don’t know me, but I have known Prince John since he was born. I served with him while he was training in the Order of St. George in England, and after my time there I returned home and became a knight in King James’s court.
My brother was killed fighting at the Battle of Hastings, so I am well acquainted with King James’s family. The prince is a good lad and deserves to become king—and not just because he is a distant cousin, as you might believe. It is because I have known him for most of my life and know what sort of man he is.”
“Are you saying Prince John isn’t the son of King Edward?” asked a lord from Scotland who was sitting nearby.
“No,” answered Berington. “That is what I’m telling you.”
There was a pause as people digested this information. Finally, someone stood and declared that the discussion should continue in private. The chamber doors opened once again, and we filed outside where we continued talking in hushed tones. I listened to everyone around me.
“If Prince John really is the true heir to the throne, then we must vote for him. No matter how good James’s reign may be, there is always the chance that something will happen to him. In such a case, there is only one way to prevent disaster for our country, and that is to put an end to all pretense and let him rule directly.”
“But the Church will never allow it!” cried a nobleman who had served James as his steward. “They will kill us all!”
“Then we shall die knowing that we lived a better life than those who follow the Church,” added another voice.
I looked over my shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the king, but he remained seated in his seat as the conversation continued. I turned back toward the open doors and saw my mother step through, and her eyes met mine. For a moment they held nothing but love, but then she glanced away, and the expression on her face changed.
“We need to talk, my dear,” she said softly. “Come along.”
The End