THE LOST VIKING SAGA

Even under the grim cloud cover, Olaf could tell that the sun’s course across the sky had reached mid-afternoon by the time activity began again among the defenders who were vigilantly watching over his small band of warriors. He marked that sunrise was yet many hours off. Hopefully, they would have some answers before the darkness made it harder to keep his men’s fears subdued.

“One hundred of them to watch over so few of us,” he thought. “We must indeed strike much fear and confusion in their hearts.”

The bustle of the defenders increased as three more of the odd carts appeared at the top of the hill and made their way slowly down to the beach. These were smaller vehicles, coverless and open to the elements. More men disembarked from the new wagons, but these men differed from the original warriors who met them. No more than five were dressed in the same earthy clothing. What set them apart were the abundant glittering bits of metal and colored ribbon that were fixed to their chests. Arriving with them was a group of six older men dressed in plain, drab clothing. Physically, they appeared softer as those to whom hard labor was foreign. The five ornament bedecked men took the lead, striding across the sand and pebbles purposefully, the others following somewhat timidly, stumbling and slipping across the shingle.

There was one exception. One of the six kept pace with the leaders, and although obviously older and similar in physique to those who struggled to keep up, his stride was robust as one who was accustomed to outdoor activity. Wise and sagely was his countenance, his face set with determination. He reminded Olaf slightly of their slain priest, Father Mathias. Clamped in his teeth was a black pipe which emitted a thin column of smoke with even more voluminous clouds being blown from his mouth with what seemed like each step he took.

“That one smokes like a dragon,” said Einar Wrymouth in his usual sarcastic way.

“Hold your tongue, Einar,” commanded Olaf. “This is not the time for you witticism.”

The newcomers stopped just a few feet from Olaf and his men. There was a brief exchange between the decorated men and the scholarly one. As this conversation ended one of them directed the smoking man to approach the Norsemen. The five others with him followed but held back considerably as if fearful to get too close to the Norsemen. They stood in a huddle, studying Olaf and his men closely. Two or three of them looked curiously toward the Sea Prowler taking in every detail of the ship. The smoking man stepped directly to Olaf as if somehow recognizing him as the leader. Without hesitation, he removed the pipe from his mouth and spoke.

“Hail, mighty warriors.”

The man’s voice was high and reedy, but he spoke with confidence and with a tone of passion that gave the hearer pause. Initially, Olaf was taken aback by the fact that the man spoke in the Norse language as though born to it. He recovered quickly and returned the greeting as he rose from the ground.

“Hail to you. How is it you speak words we understand when the others do not?”

“I have long studied your language and literature. I, and my friends over there, are scholars who have investigated Old Norse extensively. You could say that it is my specialty. I am one of a very few who still speak it.”

“You are mistaken. It is the tongue of my people and still spoken by all who live in Norway.”

The smoking man looked thoughtfully at Olaf. He nodded his head slowly processing his words, and pointing the stem of his pipe toward the Sea Prowler he spoke once again.

“Your ship is impressive indeed. You must be proud of so noble a vessel. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is John. I am assuming by your statement that you sailed from Norway?”

“You may call me Olaf and yes we sailed from Norway. Our destination was the Manx Isle, but our ship was lost in a thick fog. To be truthful, we are uncertain as to where we have come ashore. We have never encountered men such as you before in all our travels.”

John’s features showed slight confusion, but soon turned to thoughtfulness as he considered his next words carefully.

“What was the date when you put to sea?”

Olaf thought this question odd but answered all the same.

“We left our home in the waning days of Harpa. Why does this concern you?”

“I am merely attempting to discern whether my thoughts about how you came to be here are mere fancy or grounded in reality. Can you tell me who is king of your people?”

“We name Olaf Haraldson our king. Now you tell me, as it is only fair that I have answered your questions that you answer some of mine. Where is this land we have landed upon? What manner of weapons and men do you call these?”

John paused, fully forming his response in his mind before speaking.

“I beg you to listen carefully to my words and consider what I am about to speak to you with an open mind. But first, if you will indulge me, what was your purpose in coming to the Isle of Man?”

Olaf’s face grew slightly dark as he thought of the unfinished business this fog had caused by veering them off course.

“We were in pursuit of raiders to bring them to justice. They raided my lands, burned our church, and butchered our priest, Father Mathias. We could not leave such an act unanswered.”

“Ah, so you are followers of the Christ?”

“Most of us are. There are still a handful of men under me who cling to the old, false gods and superstitious ways.”

“Surprisingly, we have few of those here ourselves. They have even found new falsehoods to embrace. You are not far from the Isle of Man, but the fog forced you to the shore of its neighboring island. You stand on the shore of what was known as the Dane Law for your people not so long in your past. This is England, though it is a different England than your memory may recall. I don’t know how to say this, but I can only speak these next words with a bluntness a man of your stature and intelligence deserves. The fog, or fate, or the hand of God Himself has displaced you not only from where you originally intended, but also from when you intended.

Olaf eyed the man closely. Was he making light of them?

“Choose your words carefully, John. I am in no mood to be trifled with. Speak clearly the meaning you intend to present to me.”

“I do not trifle with you, sir. It is with all seriousness and sincerity of heart I speak this to you. You are in England, but it is the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and forty-one. It is over nine hundred years since you set sail from Norway. The Norway I know has been under the oppression for the past year of an evil the world has not seen for some time. England itself is defending its very life against this same evil.”

Olaf stood grimly, unshaken by the man’s words. He did not know how or why but the explanation rang true within his own mind. As he listened and observed, he was impressed by the quiet strength of the meek looking, rumpled man before him. Though he appeared weak and unassuming, Olaf sensed that he had the heart of a warrior.

“This evil you speak of,” began Olaf speaking at last. “Has it a name?”

John hesitated. His face set in controlled anger as he answered.

“They call themselves Nazis. They are the rulers of Germany. As a younger man I fought in a war against them before and witnessed their defeat. Their new leader, Adolph Hitler, has risen to power on empty promises and bold words of hatred. They have now stretched forth their hand again even stronger and more grasping than before”

“Why does your leader not call him out to battle man to man? Surely, if he is as small a man as he sounds there would be no problem with cutting him down and exposing him for what he is.”

“Much has changed from the world you know, Olaf. It is not so simple as that. My world is very complicated and complex. Governments and diplomats cause those who wish to subdue such evil to hold back and attempt to reason with the aggressors. All the while the evil grows and those caught in its path suffer greatly. Battles are fought today in an entirely different way than what you know. Our weapons are terrifying and impersonal. We saw the senseless deaths of some of our finest young men in the last war. Now many more may have to die before someone is brave enough to confront and defeat Hitler and his army.”

Olaf nodded, glancing over his shoulder at the lifeless body of Harald. John’s gaze followed his and when Olaf faced him once again he saw true sadness and regret in the eyes that met his own.

“We have seen firsthand what your cowardly weapons can do. I care nothing for a weapon that denies a man the dignity of defending his own honor and his life.”

“I must say that I agree with you, my friend. I have no love for what my fellow man considers advances or progress in man’s development. I would show you what level of destruction our time is capable of producing. Pardon me a moment.”

John turned briefly toward one of the men decorated with ribbons and traded a few words with him in his own language. The man nodded and John turned back to Olaf.

“Would you mind following me, Olaf? I have something I wish to show you.”

At this, the man set out up the rutted path at a pace surprising for one for one who seemed accustomed to a slower, more sedentary life. Olaf matched him stride for stride.

“Where are you taking me?” asked Olaf.

“I only wish to give you a better view of how this world is different from yours and what the weapons of this age are truly capable of doing. What you will see before you as we reach the top is the village of Barrow-in-Furness, home to many thousands of people.”

As they came to the top of the ridge, Olaf could see the structures of a very large village or town in the distance. While some were quite grand, others were reduced to smoking piles of rubble with just portions of walls still standing. Even more astounding were the ships moving from the bay the settlement was built upon the shore of. He watched in fascination as they glided swiftly through the waves and toward the open sea. They were gray and bristled with strange projections Olaf surmised were larger versions of the weapons wielded by the men on the beach. He watched the ships for a moment, marveling at their size and speed. He supposed that in some way they were moving perhaps under the same sort of power as the horseless carts. His eyes then returned to the village proper, awed by the sheer magnitude of destruction he saw before him.

“Did this Adolph Hitler cause such devastation?” he asked.

“Not by his own hand, I assure you, though it was he who commanded it be done. We have carriages or wagons, Olaf, in my time that are capable of gliding through the sky like birds. These airplanes drop what are called bombs. The bombs were dropped here last night by the Nazis in their flying wagons. They hoped to destroy the ships that you see out there in the bay. Unfortunately, their aim was off and their bombs dropped upon houses and other buildings killing many innocent people.”

Olaf’s face reddened, rage rising up within him. He grasped the hilts of his swords tightly willing his anger to be brought under control. Who would direct that such a thing be wrought upon innocents?

“I am afraid that I cannot comprehend such cowardice. I thought the raiders who attacked my lands were the worst I had seen in a long time. How can this be called progress?”

“Those who say that it is, I believe are misinformed. I believe that the more we assume to progress the more of our true selves we lose. As I said, this is a great evil we face. But there is evil on our part as well as we respond in kind with the same weapons in the cause of defending ourselves. It is what many people would call a necessary evil to stop and rid our world of this Nazi menace. “

Olaf now sensed perhaps why he and his men may have been brought to this time and place as he found a new channel for his anger. It could not be mere chance that brought them here. He began to sense the divine hand at work in the situation as John revealed each new revelation to him.

“John, show me where I can find this Hitler and his Nazis, and we will show you what true warriors can do against such an evil. We would bring them swift justice on the wings of strong, Norse steel. I have no one to tie my hands. I would not sit idle while such a man as Hitler roams the earth.”

John looked out over Barrow-in-Furness and the smoldering wreckage of people’s homes and businesses, as well as the brutally damaged trees and fields. With his eyes watering ever so slightly he spoke.

“I fear it is not in my power to do so, Olaf. Those decisions are made by others. I am merely here as a translator, a bridge between you and the leaders of our army.”

“That is who these men on the beach are? Your army? I see now why you struggle against the Nazis when you have an army so small and so poorly armored.”

“They are not the entire army, my friend. I assure you that they number in the thousands. It is a small representation upon that beach. The English army is spread far and wide attempting to hold the Germans at bay.”

“It is my desire that you take me to those who make such decisions then that I might pledge my swords and those of my men to your fight against the Nazi evil. If we must be stranded in this time we might as well be used to assist where we can be the most useful. There is no way of knowing how we came to be here exactly and when we may return to where we belong. Until we see our current position changed we would join you in your struggle.”

John laughed loudly, but caught himself and ceased.

“I am sorry, Olaf. I do not laugh at you. I laugh at the thought of old Adolph coming face to face with you and your Norse warriors. Believe it or not, he fancies himself something of a Norseman himself. He surrounds himself with imagery of your mythical past and false gods thinking that he can revive or rebirth your gods.”

“Then Hitler is a coward and a fool. The old gods held no sway in my time and, by Christ, they most certainly hold no sway now. They are stories told to while away the cold of winter. There is no more substance in them that there is in Hitler’s delusions.”

Olaf waited for a response as John leaned against a tree and began to knock ash from his pipe. “Indeed. That is well spoken, my friend. Regardless, those men on the beach have no idea what to make of you or what to do with you. It may be that they will be more open to your offer than I think. Come; let us return you to the beach and to your men. I will speak to those who brought me here. They will most likely be wanting to get everyone off of the beach soon and move to a safer place. It is rumored that the Nazis may return to drop more bombs tonight and it would be unwise to be out in the open.”