Viking Case
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A Viking ship, with a high bow and stern that flared out to create the characteristic rounded stern of the longship type of ship used in Viking raids. The hull was a single piece of oak and consisted of three decks that were made up of multiple rows of planks.
This shape, which was wide at the back and narrower at the front, allowed for fast speed on the open seas. Some of the most famous of all Viking ships are the Gokstad ship from Egypt and the Jarlshof ship from Sweden.
Snorri’s father Thorvin had been an accomplished skald or bard, but as he grew older, his musical skills declined. He became more interested in the history of his people rather than playing music. Thorvin loved to recount tales about the deeds of his father, Ragnar Lodbrok, the most famous and notorious of all Vikings.
Thorvin enjoyed reciting what he believed to be his father’s last words. “I am going now, my son. But I will return,” his father had said. He always closed by saying, “May God protect you, my son, and may he keep me safe until I see you again.”
Thorvin cherished these words like a son might cherish a parent’s blessing. As a result, he took great care to protect the legacy of his father’s name and reputation. For this reason, he did not wish for anyone else to have access to the famous sword called the Sword of Fjord-Elk. So he burned his home when he was forced to leave Iceland to avoid capture.
The only survivor of the raid on the village was Thorvin’s wife’s sister. She came upon him wandering along the beach, looking for help. She carried the two young boys she had borne before their marriage. They had no food. She offered to take them in, but Thorvin would not allow it.
Instead, they walked through the night to reach the nearest town. Once there, Thorvin went into his father’s house to search for anything he could salvage from the fire. He found his mother’s jewels and the silver chalices he had given her on various occasions. Then he saw a long, narrow box and a bronze casket. Both had been left behind as the family fled.
He knew the cask held his father’s famous sword and shield. When his mother died and he was in his mid-twenties, Thorvin tried to obtain his father’s sword and shield. His grandfather, who was Ragnar’s uncle, had refused to give them up.
Thorvin had known he would not succeed unless his father was dead and that he would need more than just a few gold coins to persuade his uncle to part with such important treasures. But Ragnar had escaped from his son, Sigurd, and so now it would be impossible to gain access to the sword and shield.
Thorvin did not know what to do. If he had realized how valuable these objects would become in future years, he might have been able to do something to save them. Perhaps he could have hidden them somewhere or at least kept them well out of his grandfather’s reach. However, by the time he understood their true value, there was nothing he could do.
His wife and the two young boys had wandered through the night. It seemed to Thorvin they walked forever. When he finally found his way into the town, he discovered most of the villagers had been killed.
He was still angry at his mother’s brother, Bjorn, for being so unfeeling and ungenerous toward his own family. So, when he found a suitable place to live, he left the casket and sword behind.
As for his wife, she lived long enough to bear him a daughter, Hild, who was soon followed by her brother, Gorm, and her sister, Helga. He doted on his children and continued to treat them like a father should. They had not been told of the sword or shield; there was no need to worry them. Their lives were too good. But he had thought about them often over the years.
But the sword remained in the casket, where it had lain for twenty years. He did not think his descendants would be interested in weapons. If they ever found it, he hoped they would treasure it as a piece of history rather than as an object to be used for violence.
He remembered how his uncle had treated it, and so he did the same. His grandson, Koll, had become his heir because of the will he’d left behind. When Thorvin died in his bed, Koll inherited everything that his grandfather had left behind.
Koll never knew what was inside the casket or even what it looked like. The only thing he would ever see was the sword and shield that now hung above the hearth. They were very old and they looked much the worse for wear, but their edges were still razor-sharp.
It was while cleaning the blade that he noticed a strange mark on the sword’s hilt. At first, he could not determine what it was. Then he realized it looked like a skull with the head cut off. This puzzled him at first, but then he understood why his father had inscribed his name on the blade. There would be no confusion over who owned this weapon in the future.
When Iseld became pregnant again, Koll planned a celebration feast. He invited everyone to attend, but when he got to the house, he found all the doors locked and there was no sign of Iseld. He knew something must have happened, and he set out to find her. He found her hiding under a bridge in a shabby village where she had gone because she felt uncomfortable among people.
He took her back home to the estate, and after that, she was rarely allowed to venture far from his side. As for the child, he named the infant Rolf, and she was soon followed by his brother, Guthfrith. And then came two more children—the sons that Thorvin had lost before they were born: Halvard and Bjorn.
Thorvin could never understand what he had done wrong. But when he died, his son-in-law, Einar, had not even mentioned his name during his funeral, instead making it a private affair. He felt very alone at the time as if he’d been cast adrift in the sea.
His wife, his daughters, and their descendants seemed to have forgotten him entirely. Perhaps they would have loved him better had he been a little less stubborn; perhaps he could have been a happier man if he’d understood his mother’s will more completely.
Perhaps.
***
“Did you hear about that bear?”
The child, dressed in filthy clothing, stared up at the young girl with soft brown eyes. Her father had found her sleeping on a pile of horse manure. She looked older than most kids his age but still too young to be left on her own. The man had taken her away from the stable, where she had apparently been living. “No,” the girl said. “I’ve never seen a bear.”
They sat at a table in an alehouse that had been set aside for them. “That’s what the people say. The animal broke into the castle and ate the lord who lived there. I saw the bear myself, and the whole place was torn apart.”
She took a deep swallow from her mug and then another one, drinking her fill. They’d found her on the road leading to the fortress of Gefrin, which lay atop a mountain ridge in the center of the land. She had wandered past a house where she had found an old woman and her young grandson playing dice.
They fed her and cared for her until they heard that soldiers were searching the area for a missing child. She’d stayed with them and spent the night, and when they found her footprints on the road, they returned her to her parents.
It wasn’t until then that she realized she had no idea how she got out onto the highway, and she didn’t know what else to tell them. “I don’t know,” she said again. “Someone just led me out here.”
“Who?” he asked.
He had black hair and dark brown eyes. He reminded her of the people she had known in Ireland, the ones who looked like they came from the north country. But the man before her did not speak like an Irishman. His accent was strange. She tried to understand but could only guess.
“Tell him the truth,” a voice said. The man looked up and saw a guard standing behind her. The girl turned and looked back at the man, whose name was Gunnar.
“I don’t know who,” the girl repeated.
The guard knelt down in front of her. “What happened next? Tell the truth, and no harm will come to you.”
Her father’s hand settled over her mouth as she struggled against his grip. “No harm? Look around you. We’ve been sitting here drinking all day because some guardsman took our daughter and we have no idea where she is.
I don’t want any trouble with these men, so tell the truth or no one will ever find her. No one will help us. And what about your mother? Your sisters?” Her father let go of her but did not remove his hand. “Now answer me!”
She couldn’t say anything. She knew he was angry, but if she told the truth, no one would be able to help them. They wouldn’t even find her. And if her mother heard that she had lied, the punishment would be much worse.
The guard leaned closer. His face filled her vision as she tried to see him better. It felt like he was going to reach out and take her by the neck, but instead he bent forward until he could smell her hair, and then he stood up. “We’ll find her,” he said to her father, and then to the child, “I promise.”
He was not cruel. He never once struck her for lying. As he searched for her, her mother worried, and the village folk too. Her mother called her daughter’s name, while her sisters asked questions. But she did not respond.
A few people claimed that they had seen a small girl like hers wandering through town. One woman swore she’d seen the same child sitting outside her door. Her sisters insisted on searching the surrounding area, but the girl stayed with Gunnar.
“What about that bear?” he asked her.
“I don’t know.”
The bear was not dead. He had killed many of the soldiers and eaten their flesh, and then he escaped from the castle walls. Soldiers were still searching for it, and even though there was no longer a lord, the army was still trying to protect the land from attack. “I can show you some of its prints,” Gunnar told her. “I found some right here in front of me. See how large the print is?”
They came across the creature as they followed the track that the beast left behind. There was no reason to try and catch the bear himself, so he just watched her as she crouched over the tracks. She nodded her head, but her voice remained quiet.
“I wonder what the bear ate,” Gunnar mused.
“I don’t know.”
They did not go back to the village until three days later, but there was no sign of her, and the only footprints that she had left behind were those of the bear. “It must have been hungry, too, and I know this isn’t much help,” Gunnar said. “But when we return home if you decide to come, I will take you to my father’s smithy.”
“What’s that?”
He told her about the metal craftsmen who made all kinds of things out of iron, steel, copper, bronze, and silver. His father had taught him everything he knew, and Gunnar had become very good at the craft. The smiths would also do work for a price. In fact, he had recently done a job for her parents, forging armor to protect them from the bear’s teeth.
“But you could help me now,” he added, “if you wanted to.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “What am I supposed to do with a smith?”
“You’re not from around here. Maybe you want to get away from the fighting, but I’m sure there’s somewhere you’d like to go.”
“I have no idea.” She felt foolish. She looked down at the tracks, trying to find some connection, something she could tell him, but it was gone. When she looked up again, the sun was setting behind the horizon. He was looking at her. “Is that your house over there?” she asked.
“Yes, and my father can’t wait to meet you,” Gunnar replied. “It’s getting dark so I should go.” He gave her an encouraging smile as he walked toward the small log cabin. Her heart was racing, and she almost ran after him but stopped herself just in time. The guard followed her, though, and he watched as she approached her home. She did not look back, but he reached out his hand and touched her shoulder. “Goodbye,” he said. “Take care.”
She hesitated, then turned around. She was surprised by the gesture. She knew he was leaving her, but it didn’t seem to matter. The wind blew past them, carrying the sound of the waves to her ears. And when she looked up to the heavens, the moon seemed to be watching over her, too. “I have nothing to say,” she whispered. “No words for you.”
He nodded as if he understood. She wondered how she had ever thought she loved him. He wasn’t even real.
The End