Viking Blessing
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“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Astrid asked for the fifth time. “I mean, you haven’t even told us your plan.” She glanced at me as if I could somehow explain it to her. But there was nothing I could tell her that would convince her of my reasoning.
We were standing on the deck of our ship in the middle of the ocean. The sea had become choppy from stormy weather and we’d lost most of our wind by the time we reached open water again.
We’d spent two weeks crossing the North Sea under sail only. It took us one full day to reach land once we left the safety of the Baltic Sea. We sailed through a maze of islands until finally reaching Iceland’s southern coast where we anchored near the village of Skaraborg.
The people here seemed happy enough, but they did not want us coming ashore. They had seen what happened when Vikings came into their lands. Their king sent word back to Denmark, warning them about the strange ships and the strange men who wore no clothes.
Our ship was too large to come close so we dropped anchor offshore. That night we saw a huge fire burning up north along the coast and then another beyond it. Both fires burned bright and fierce all night long. As dawn approached we heard more voices singing hymns and prayers than usual.
We found out later those voices belonged to the people of Skaraborg who prayed and sang every morning before they went hunting or fishing.
When the sun rose the next morning we knew something was wrong. We heard the sound of fighting up ahead. There was shouting and crying in the distance and smoke rising off to the east. When we looked over the side of our boat we saw our own ship burning like ours had been.
Our crew was scattered around the beach in small groups with spears ready and swords were drawn. They stood watching our ship burn while others worked to extinguish the flames on their own vessel.
A few hundred yards away we watched other boats being pulled onto shore by ropes and lines. Some of the crews jumped overboard and swam the short distance to the rocks below us. Others were dragged down the beach by their feet. Those who tried to run were chased down and killed.
Most of the bodies lay facedown, still wearing their boots and breeches. Only a handful was stripped naked and left behind. One man managed to escape his captors and ran straight toward us. He stopped just short of leaping onto the rocks. His eyes locked on mine and he pointed at me. Then he turned and sprinted inland.
As soon as he disappeared I gave orders for everyone aboard to strip down to their skins. Even though we hadn’t yet seen any of these people we knew we must be wary. After we finished stripping I walked forward and climbed down to the sand. I felt a chill in the air and realized we were far enough away from the village to be safe. “This will take some explaining,” I said quietly.
None of them spoke; they simply stared at me as if expecting me to start screaming commands right away. They waited patiently while I knelt down beside the closest body. Its face was frozen in fear, its eyes wide open, staring into eternity. In death, they made no effort to cover themselves as if they didn’t care anymore.
That was how we met King Thorfinn, who called himself Harald Finehair after he became the king of Norway. His son, Sigurd, was a friend of Odin. He was the one who led us across the Atlantic and taught us everything we needed to know about sailing.
Now I had a new name, which I liked much better than my old one: Halfdan Ragnarsson. And now we had a whole bunch of new enemies.
“What do we do?” Astrid asked. Her voice sounded tired. She had never wanted to leave home. She was always saying she wished she had grown up in Norway rather than Sweden. She hated cold weather and snow. Now we were thousands of miles away from where she grew up. She had never been further west than Paris.
“Well, we can’t stay here,” I replied. “King Thorfinn won’t let us pass without paying him tribute. If we don’t pay him anything, he’ll kill us. We have to go somewhere else.”
Sigurd nodded in agreement. “But where? It doesn’t look like anyone wants to give us refuge.”
I considered my options. The Norsemen had traveled south through Europe and settled in Iceland. We could try to find them. Or we could sail southeast, toward the Mediterranean Sea. I decided to send Sigurd south and scout for us. We’d wait here for him to return.
We had a lot to discuss during our wait. Everyone gathered on deck except for the ones who were working to repair the ship. But there was nothing to talk about until we learned whether or not Sigurd would return. I told them to gather together and tell each other stories.
They sat in silence, lost in thought, and listened to each other’s tales. My father told me about when he was a boy. He was eight years old and playing in the forest with friends when two older boys started chasing him. He had been running faster than most kids and had escaped capture.
But he was hungry and thirsty. He couldn’t stop thinking about food and water. He followed the river until it flowed into the sea. As he got closer to the ocean he noticed an island that seemed out of place among all the jagged rocks surrounding it.
The land sloped gently toward the shore but then leveled out so abruptly it looked like a cliff. As he approached it he saw what appeared to be a giant bird sitting on top. The wingspan of this enormous creature stretched for hundreds of yards and the feathers were thick and dark brown.
The head of the beast was huge, and instead of eyes, it had a single large black spot in the center of its forehead. This was the legendary griffin. When he got close enough to see the face he recognized the creature as his grandfather’s.
He was relieved to learn he wasn’t dead, but disappointed because he did not know why he had come. His grandfather explained he came seeking revenge against those who stole his treasure. He showed him the gold and silver coins they had taken from him and swore he would get them back.
So he flew off over the ocean and landed on the tallest mountain peak. There he built a fortress atop the highest peak.
He spent many months training warriors to defend the stronghold. Then one night a great storm rolled in and destroyed the fortress. The winds tore apart the walls and toppled the towers. His men died trying to protect the treasures inside.
His wife was killed too, along with several others. The next morning my father awoke to find himself alone, with only a handful of surviving soldiers left alive. Their leader took command again, and they returned to Norway.
But they were starving, and they knew they had failed in their mission. One man said he heard cries coming from a cave below the castle ruins. That was where he found a dragon sleeping beneath the earth. He grabbed a torch and burned the creature to death. From that day forward we had no more need to fear dragons.
The story pleased the men. They laughed and slapped each other’s backs. Afterward, some went to sleep, exhausted by their long voyage. Others stayed awake, telling stories until the stars faded into the darkness. Some even slept on deck. But I kept watching. No matter how hard I tried, I still felt uneasy at night. Something terrible might happen if I closed my eyes.
Halfway around the world from my homeland, I waited for news from Sigurd. It was late autumn when I finally spotted the sails of his ships returning to us. The sun rose red-gold in the east, casting shadows on the water. By the time he reached us the wind was blowing straight into our faces.
We were traveling at less than half speed; we could barely move forward. The waves were high. I wondered what he must think of me after hearing the story I told him before he left. How could I explain to him now that I really didn’t know anything?
It was early evening when he arrived. We watched him approach from afar and soon he was within earshot. I waved him over and called for him to come aboard. When he climbed onto the deck he smiled broadly at me. “Good to see you, Bjorn,” he said.
“And good to see you, Sigurd,” I replied.
A few minutes later everyone else joined us. A few sailors began hauling up the anchor chain and securing the boat to the mooring posts. The rest of us gathered around the mast, listening to Sigurd’s tale.
“You are right to worry,” he said. “This is bad business.”
“How bad?” I asked. “What can we do to help?”
Sigurd shook his head sadly. “There isn’t much you can do. All we can do is make sure we have enough food for the journey home and hope the weather stays fair.”
I stared at the sailmaker. What he said made sense. If we were going to fight these creatures, we needed every bit of strength we possessed. And yet I could feel the blood boiling in my veins.
“Have you ever fought any of these monsters before?” Sigurd asked. “These wyrms?”
I nodded. “Once, years ago. But it was just a skirmish. Not exactly like this.”
Sigurd grunted. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t others. You’re lucky it was nothing serious.”
I wanted to say something reassuring, but I had little confidence. The thought of being trapped in such a small space with three or four of them scared me to death.
As Sigurd spoke I glanced across the deck to where Hrolf stood. His hair was ruffled and he had dirt smudged on his cheek. He seemed far away and distant, as though he wasn’t fully aware of the conversation taking place around him. In fact, most of the crew looked the same way.
Most of them had been on board for weeks now. Even the new men seemed out of sorts. At first, they were eager to join us. Now they were beginning to lose heart. Many of them were older men who had already lost children.
Now they worried about their wives and mothers back home. Those who lived near the sea feared losing their homes too, should the waters rise too high. There were those who hated the heat of the south and wished to return home. Others missed their families so badly they would rather die at sea than face another winter in Sweden.
At times like this, I could almost understand why Sigurd did not want to tell anyone about the treasure. It would be easier if everyone simply believed it belonged to Sigurd, and not to me. For now anyway, until I convinced him otherwise.
My stomach growled. I’d eaten nothing since the night before, which was also my last meal before leaving Denmark. I couldn’t wait to eat again. My mouth watered for roast mutton.
Hrolf turned to me then. “We’ll need more food. Food for a lot of people.”
He was right. Everyone ate more when they were frightened or nervous. And we were both of those things.
“Yes, we will,” Sigurd agreed. “But for now we need to concentrate on getting through the storm.”
The next day the winds grew stronger. Gusts buffeted the ship, causing her to rock violently beneath us. I leaned against the rail and closed my eyes, trying to keep myself from falling over the side. I heard some of the other men grumbling under their breath.
They cursed and swore and blamed me for bringing them here. Their fear and frustration boiled over one afternoon, during a particularly violent wave.
Everyone was huddled below decks, sitting on bales of wool and eating cold beans and stale bread. As always, the smell of the food brought me pleasure, but it was difficult to enjoy it while we were all crammed together in such close quarters.
No matter how many times I reminded the crew that we were heading north toward land, they remained unconvinced. Sooner or later our luck was bound to run out, even for me.
The door leading to the cabin slid open and Sigurd stepped out. He peered down the stairs into the crowded common room and sighed. He shook his head. “Not now!” he shouted. “Let me pass!”
Most of the men scattered. Only a handful lingered behind, including Sigurd, who moved past them to stand beside me.
“Good to see you, lad,” he said. Then he added quietly, “I’m glad you decided to come along.”
It didn’t sound like an apology, and yet I took what comfort I could in it. “Thank you, Sigurd.”
He smiled. “Now let’s get out of this wind,” he said, pointing up the steps.
“Wait a moment, Sigurd.” I followed him upstairs. When we reached the top, I motioned for him to follow me to the window. From here, looking down, I saw the water churning below us. Waves crashed into each other and broke apart, splashing white foam onto the deck. I wondered what it must look like to a passing ship.
“How do you think she looks?” I asked.
Sigurd frowned. “Like hell, is what I think. Like someone has pissed in her eye socket. But maybe I’ve been drinking too much ale lately.” He shrugged. “She’ll survive. She’s tough enough. And once we get past these storms we can sail straight for the Faroe Islands without any further trouble.”
“What does that mean? That we won’t make landfall until autumn?”
His brow furrowed. “No, no. We just have to avoid running aground, which isn’t hard. Once we clear the straits of Skagen, we should be fine.” He pointed outside. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about, indeed.
The End