Читать книгу: «Voyage Of Destiny»

1 Chapter 3

Eight winters after Ulfr's birth, in addition to his blood sister Isgred, a new member of the family was added: Thorald, of the same age, who was the son of Harald, Jarl of the nearby village of Oseberg (t/n The earl/jarl is usually seen as a chieftain of a particular territory – souce: Wikipedia).

There had been a very strong bond between the two clans for generations. Following the loss of his wife Sigrid, who had died along with their second child during its birth, Harald was a shattered man. He decided to entrust the education and training of his only son to the family of his great friend King Olaf and his wife Herja, for a few years.

The couple looked at their friend worried. Harald was a handsome man in his 30s, but the pain of the terrible loss was visible in his face, which was strained and tired and made him look much older. Olaf rested a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Be strong, my friend! Don't worry about Thorald, he'll be fine here, we'll take care of everything," he tried to hearten him.

"I'm sure of it!" affirmed the man, in a tone of voice that did not reveal the despondency that, instead, he was feeling. Harald looked at his son, sitting by his side, his head bent and his eyes fixed on his little hands. Harald’s heart skipped a beat and he stroked his hair. The child raised his head and looked up at his father, clenching his young lips so as not to cry.

Herja took two receptacles made from natural cow horns and decorated with engravings and gold plating. She filled them with mead and handed them to the two men, then turned to Thorald.

"Come on!" she urged him, with the sweetness of a mother, holding out her hand, "Ulfr is waiting for you."

The child turned to the father who nodded his head. "It's going to be alright," he reassured him, forcing himself to appear serene. Thorald took Herja's hand and they crossed the room together, but before leaving, the child turned to his father again and smiled at him, as if to reassure him in turn.

Olaf waited until they had gone out and then raised his horn, imitated by Harald.

"Let's drink! To the memory of Sigrid and all our ancestors," he proposed to his friend.

"Drekka Minni!" they toasted in unison, emptying the horn in one gulp. Olaf ran the back of his hand over his mustache. "Now you have to think about getting over this moment; you could leave for a long journey," he suggested.

"I’ve thought about it. If Thorald had been older, I would have taken him with me."

"We can do this instead; you’ll travel and do some trading for me too, while I’ll take care of raising him to be educated, healthy and strong," Olaf proposed.

"My friend, you have never let me down!" declared Harald, as the two men exchanged glances full of deep affection and mutual respect.

"I'm sure you'd do the same for me!" Olaf asserted, without the slightest doubt, putting the palm of his right hand towards him in a gesture that his friend reciprocated.

Harald traveled for many years, and spent many of them wintering away from home.

For the two children, education and training began immediately. They were taught about laws, history, woodworking and ironworking, and learned all the secrets of metallurgy. They learned to familiarize themselves with weapons, and practised several disciplines on a daily basis.

In the long evenings of the freezing Norwegian winter, the whole family gathered together in the warmth of the domestic hearth. While the women weaved and the men carved wood, the family and clan history was handed down to the children though the tales of the elders, along with the principles, values and code of honor that a good Viking should never break.

Ulfr and Thorald grew up healthy and strong, they studied and trained together, and a strong bond of affection was created between the two. Like their fathers before them, they became sworn brothers, according to an ancient magical rite.

Winter was over, the Viking ships sailed the Scandinavian waters, and the Vikings who had wintered away from home finally returned to their families. To everyone's surprise, Harald returned that spring too.

It was the ninth summer for the two little Vikings, around the middle of April, when they consecrated their fraternity. That day, it was their first training with the bow and everything had been set up outside, at the back of the house from where the panorama of the whole property could be seen.

"Put your left leg forward, it will help you take a better aim and get more power," suggested Bjorn, the best archer of the clan. The two children positioned themselves as suggested, holding the bow with the arrow ready, and pulled the string as hard as they could, squinting their eyes to focus on the target they had to hit. Two straw-filled sacks were used as puppets, with the target painted at heart height.

"Now!" Bjorn ordered.

The two small archers shot their first dart and a disappointed expression was painted on their faces as they followed the flight, a long way off the target.

"For Odin's good eye!" a man’s voice swore. All eyes turned in that direction as Leif, a big red-haired man, came out of the bushes with a dead goat, pierced by the arrows.

Bjorn looked at Olaf and Harald astonished. "They killed it dead at the first shot!" he said in disbelief. The children’s proud and satisfied expression aroused a feeling of fondness and amusement in the men. "What was this goat doing outside the stable?" asked Olaf as he pulled the arrows from the poor beast.

"She had run away and I was trying to get her back to the others," the man explained.

"You were lucky, it could have been you instead of the goat," Harald remarked.

"You’re right!" exclaimed Leif, opening his gray eyes wide. "The arrows hit her as I was grabbing her," he added, looking at the two children, who gave him a half-smile of apology.

"I survived a thousand battles in my youth and I certainly don’t want to go to Valhalla at the hands of two children!" he exclaimed in an ironic tone, "And I'm not sure the Valkyries would let me in... Dead chasing a goat!" he concluded joking, making everyone laugh.

"My good friend, when you make your entrance into Valhalla it will surely be worthy of the great Viking you have been! Now take her to the cook, and tell her to prepare it for dinner," Olaf said with a laugh. Leif agreed, bowing his head in a sign of respect before setting off towards the kitchen.

"Now focus on the target... " the archer called the children to attention, "because when you fight an enemy you will not win it by slaughtering the cattle."

"You have to admit that the first arrow of their life is a good omen for the future," Harald declared, in a tone between smug and amused.

"So it seems,” replied Bjorn. "Now they have to work hard, to prove that they deserve this omen," he added, addressing the two small archers, ready and waiting for a command.

A noise behind them caught the attention of Olaf and Harald. The doors of the stables opened and, after six months, a multitude of animals poured outside. Among mooing, grunting and bellowing, some men of the clan were trying to maintain order so they could lead the more than 500 head of cattle into the lands where they would leave them free to graze.

"Get the cattle out of here, or these two will kill them!" exclaimed Olaf, teasing them. Amid all that hustle and bustle Leif appeared, heading in their direction at a quick pace. He seemed eager to tell them something.

"Old Sigrùn saw the goat and said to tell you that she’s waiting for all four of you in the sacred glade,” the man informed them, as soon as he reached them.

“Good!" Olaf commented, exchanging a knowing look with Harald.

"You will resume training when we return," he told Bjorn.

"I’ll be here waiting for you," replied the archer.

The four set off, leaving the village behind them. The earth had freed itself from the frost and, with the first warmth of the sun, everything had started to come to life again in the village of Gokstad. Olaf's property was beautiful, and very vast, stretching along the coast and towards the hinterland for miles and miles and he was proud of it.

The fields were divided by a low stone wall which surrounded them. There were some peasants busy plowing the fields, while others were sowing the many different crops: rye, the precious barley, all the vegetables and oats, the latter destined to become fodder to feed the large number of livestock during the coming winter.

The first flowers dotted the vast meadows of clover, which were strewn with berry plants, blackberries and raspberries, and extended to the point where the terrain rose up to become rock walls and hills that bordered Harald's lands. With the thaw, the waterfall had once again begun to slide down the rocks, covered with lichens, swelling the stream that crossed the forest and the sacred glade.

The road they were following was lined with rows of apple trees and hawthorns which were in bud, and the first white flowers were already beginning to appear. They continued in silence, amid the sounds of nature that had awakened with the sun's rays filtering through the trees. The first birds’ nests could be seen and hanging from some of the branches were spiral-shaped straw baskets in which the bees had begun to build their hives. By the end of summer they would full of honey, with which the Vikings would produce an excellent mead.

They arrived at the sacred glade, where old Sigrùn awaited them. She was standing near an oak tree, wrapped from head to toe in her black cloak. Two white braids fell from the hood down to her hips, and her eyes stood out like two aquamarines. Perched motionless on her shoulders were two crows, creatures linked to the worship of their God Odin. The old woman held her arms up to the sky and the two birds soared away in flight, cawing over their heads, before disappearing into the thick of the trees.

"Your fathers planted this oak tree when they were about your age, and it grew as healthy and strong as their friendship," she declared with a nuance of pride in her voice. Then she bent down to pick up a shoot born from the roots of the tree and raised it to heaven.

"Today the gods have expressed their will, through your darts, and Thor's tree has generated a new life. You are ready for your Oath!" old Sigrùn declared, handing the shoot to the two boys.

The two little Vikings chose a point not far from the oak and turned over a clod of grass, over which they cut into the palm of their right hand, then mixed their blood with a handshake, swearing mutual fidelity; they fertilized the clod with it and used it to cover the base of the shoot they had planted, thus sealing a pact of brotherhood for life.

In addition to the education which the children of a noble house were given, Isgred had to learn how to govern the house, especially when her husband would have embarked on an expedition. One day she too, like her mother, would have to run the farm, educate her children, and administer her husband's affairs. One day she would also wear the bunch of house keys hanging on her belt, a symbol of the authority and respect which a woman enjoyed in the family.