Hall | The Story of the Vikings | E-Book | sack.de
E-Book

E-Book, Englisch, 118 Seiten

Hall The Story of the Vikings

E-Book, Englisch, 118 Seiten

ISBN: 978-1-5378-1923-5
Verlag: Jovian Press
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Kein



Iceland is a little country far north in the cold sea. Men found it and went there to live more than a thousand years ago. During the warm season they used to fish and make fish-oil and hunt sea-birds and gather feathers and tend their sheep and make hay. But the winters were long and dark and cold. Men and women and children stayed in the house and carded and spun and wove and knit. A whole family sat for hours around the fire in the middle of the room. That fire gave the only light. Shadows flitted in the dark corners. Smoke curled along the high beams in the ceiling. The children sat on the dirt floor close by the fire. The grown people were on a long narrow bench that they had pulled up to the light and warmth. Everybody's hands were busy with wool. The work left their minds free to think and their lips to talk. What was there to talk about? The summer's fishing, the killing of a fox, a voyage to Norway. But the people grew tired of this little gossip...

Iceland is a little country far north in the cold sea. Men found it and went there to live more than a thousand years ago. During the warm season they used to fish and make fish-oil and hunt sea-birds and gather feathers and tend their sheep and make hay. But the winters were long and dark and cold. Men and women and children stayed in the house and carded and spun and wove and knit. A whole family sat for hours around the fire in the middle of the room. That fire gave the only light. Shadows flitted in the dark corners. Smoke curled along the high beams in the ceiling. The children sat on the dirt floor close by the fire. The grown people were on a long narrow bench that they had pulled up to the light and warmth. Everybody's hands were busy with wool. The work left their minds free to think and their lips to talk. What was there to talk about? The summer's fishing, the killing of a fox, a voyage to Norway. But the people grew tired of this little gossip...
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OLAF’S FARM
~ At another time Harald asked: “What is your country, Olaf? Have you always been a thrall?” The thrall’s eyes flashed. “When you are a man,” he said, “and go a-viking to Denmark, ask men whether they ever heard of Olaf the Crafty. There, far off, is my country, across the water. My father was Gudbrand the Big. Two hundred warriors feasted in his hall and followed him to battle. Ten sons sat at meat with him, and I was the youngest. One day he said: “‘You are all grown to be men. There is not elbow-room here for so many chiefs. The eldest of you shall have my farm when I die. The rest of you, off a-viking!’ “He had three ships. These he gave to three of my brothers. But I stayed that spring and built me a boat. I made her for only twenty oars because I thought few men would follow me; for I was young, fifteen years old. I made her in the likeness of a dragon. At the prow I carved the head with open mouth and forked tongue thrust out. I painted the eyes red for anger. “‘There, stand so!’ I said, ‘and glare and hiss at my foes.’ “In the stern I curved the tail up almost as high as the head. There I put the pilot’s seat and a strong tiller for the rudder. On the breast and sides I carved the dragon’s scales. Then I painted it all black and on the tip of every scale I put gold. I called her ‘Waverunner.’ There she sat on the rollers, as fair a ship as I ever saw. “The night that it was finished I went to my father’s feast. After the meats were eaten and the mead-horns came round, I stood up from my bench and raised my drinking-horn high and spoke with a great voice: “‘This is my vow: I will sail to Norway and I will harry the coast and fill my boat with riches. Then I will get me a farm and will winter in that land. Now who will follow me?’ “‘He is but a boy,’ the men said. ‘He has opened his mouth wider than he can do.’ “But others jumped to their feet with their mead-horns in their hands. Thirty men, one after another, raised their horns and said: “‘I will follow this lad, and I will not turn back so long as he and I live!’ “On the next morning we got into my dragon and started. I sat high in the pilot’s seat. As our boat flashed down the rollers into the water I made this song and sang it: “‘The dragon runs. Where will she steer? Where swords will sing, Where spears will bite, Where I shall laugh.’ “So we harried the coast of Norway. We ate at many men’s tables uninvited. Many men we found overburdened with gold. Then I said: “‘My dragon’s belly is never full,’ and on board went the gold. “Oh! it is better to live on the sea and let other men raise your crops and cook your meals. A house smells of smoke, a ship smells of frolic. From a house you see a sooty roof, from a ship you see Valhalla. “Up and down the water we went to get much wealth and much frolic. After a while my men said: “‘What of the farm, Olaf?’ “‘Not yet,’ I answered. ‘Viking is better for summer. When the ice comes, and our dragon cannot play, then we will get our farm and sit down.’ “At last the winter came, and I said to my men: “‘Now for the farm. I have my eye on one up the coast a way in King Halfdan’s country.’ “So we set off for it. We landed late at night and pulled our boat up on shore and walked quietly to the house. It was rather a wealthy farm, for there were stables and a storehouse and a smithy at the sides of the house. There was but one door to the house. We went to it, and I struck it with my spear. “‘Hello! Ho! Hello!’ I shouted, and my men made a great din. “At last someone from inside said: “‘Who calls?’ “‘I call,’ I answered. ‘Open! or you will think it Thor who calls,’ and I struck my shield against the door so that it made a great clanging. “The door opened only a little, but I pushed it wide and leaped into the room. It was so dark that I could see nothing but a few sparks on the hearth. I stood with my back to the wall; for I wanted no sword reaching out of the dark for me. “‘Now start up the fire,’ I said. “‘Come, come!’ I called, when no one obeyed. ‘A fire! This is cold welcome for your guests.’ “My men laughed. “‘Yes, a stingy host! He acts as though he had not expected us.’ “But now the farmer was blowing on the coals and putting on fresh wood. Soon it blazed up, and we could see about us. We were in a little feast hall, with its fire down the middle of it. There were benches for twenty men along each side. The farmer crouched by the fire, afraid to move. On a bench in a far corner were a dozen people huddled together. “‘Ho, thralls!’ I called to them. ‘Bring in the table. We are hungry.’ “Off they ran through a door at the back of the hall. My men came in and lay down by the fire and warmed themselves, but I set two of them as guards at the door. “‘Well, friend farmer,’ laughed one, ‘why such a long face? Do you not think we shall be merry company?’ “‘We came only to cheer you,’ said another. ‘What man wants to spend the winter with no guests?’ “‘Ah!’ another then cried out, sitting up. ‘Here comes something that will be a welcome guest to my stomach.’ “The thralls were bringing in a great pot of meat. They set up a crane over the fire and hung the pot upon it, and we sat and watched it boil while we joked. At last the supper began. The farmer sat gloomily on the bench and would not eat, and you cannot wonder; for he saw us putting potfuls of his good beef and basket-loads of bread into our big mouths. When the tables were taken out and the mead-horns came round, I stood up and raised my horn and said to the farmer: “‘You would not eat with us. You cannot say no to half of my ale. I drink this to your health.’ “Then I drank half of the hornful and sent the rest across the fire to the farmer. He took it and smiled, saying: “‘Since it is to my health, I will drink it. I thought that all this night’s work would be my death.’ “‘Oh, do not fear that!’ I laughed, ‘for a dead man sets no tables.’ “So we drank and all grew merrier. At last I stood up and said: “‘I like this little taste of your hospitality, friend farmer. I have decided to accept more of it.’ “My men roared with laughter. “‘Come,’ they cried, ‘thank him for that, farmer. Did you ever have such a lordly guest before?’ “I went on: “‘Now there is no fun in having guests unless they keep you company and make you merry. So I will give out this law: that my men shall never leave you alone. Hakon there shall be your constant companion, friend farmer. He shall not leave you day or night, whether you are working or playing or sleeping. Leif and Grim shall be the same kind of friends to your two sons.’ “I named nine others and said: “‘And these shall follow your thralls in the same way. Now, am I not careful to make your time go merrily?’ “So I set guards over every one in that house. Not once all that winter did they stir out of sight of some of us. So no tales got out to the neighbors. Besides, it was a lonely place, and by good luck no one came that way. Oh! that was fat and easy living. “Well, after we had been there for a long time, Hakon came in to the feast one night and said: “‘I heard a cuckoo to-day!’ “‘It is the call to go a-viking,’ I said. “All my men put their hands to their mouths and shouted. Their eyes danced. Big Thorleif stood up and stretched himself. “‘I am stiff with long sitting,’ he said. ‘I itch for a fight.’ “I turned to the farmer. “‘This is our last feast with you,’ I said. “‘Well,’ he laughed, ‘this has been the busiest winter I ever spent, and the merriest. May good luck go with you!’ “‘By the beard of Odin!’ I cried; ‘you have taken our joke like a man.’ “My men pounded the table with their fists. “‘By the hammer of Thor!’ shouted Grim. ‘Here is no stingy coward. He is a man fit to carry my drinking-horn, the horn of a sea-rover and a sword-swinger. Here, friend, take it,’ and he thrust it into the farmer’s hand. ‘May you drink heart’s-ease from it for many years. And with it I leave you a...


Iceland is a little country far north in the cold sea. Men found it and went there to live more than a thousand years ago. During the warm season they used to fish and make fish-oil and hunt sea-birds and gather feathers and tend their sheep and make hay. But the winters were long and dark and cold. Men and women and children stayed in the house and carded and spun and wove and knit. A whole family sat for hours around the fire in the middle of the room. That fire gave the only light. Shadows flitted in the dark corners. Smoke curled along the high beams in the ceiling. The children sat on the dirt floor close by the fire. The grown people were on a long narrow bench that they had pulled up to the light and warmth. Everybody's hands were busy with wool. The work left their minds free to think and their lips to talk. What was there to talk about? The summer's fishing, the killing of a fox, a voyage to Norway. But the people grew tired of this little gossip...


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