Their fathers had lived on their own lands and had been freemen, but the sons were asked to become king's men and hold their land only at the king's pleasure. Rather than give up their ancient rights many of the Northmen became Vikings, and to them the sea-roving life was a noble one, full of high enterprise and ambition.

It was no easy matter to become a member of a Viking band. Even a great chief, before he could be admitted, must prove his strength and give an account of the deeds of prowess he had already done.

Thus it was an honour to belong to a band of Vikings, an honour which spurred the lads of the North to bold deeds, to mighty feats, that they might be counted worthy to become members of one or another of the famous bands.

It is of the customs and battles, of the lives and deaths of these wild Northmen that I have told you in this little book.

As these men are, as you will hear, ancestors of our own, you will perhaps wish to know more about them than I have been able to tell you.

If that is so, when you grow older, you can read the Sagas or histories of these Northmen which were written by the Skalds, or, as we would call them, the poets of those olden days.

In these Sagas you will meet with many strange adventures and see many great battlefields which you will not find in this little book.

The townsfolk saw the ships, and paying no heed to the bright sails, said carelessly one to another, The merchantmen will be in port to-day. And the harbour-master gathered together a few of his men and hastened to the quay. For he, too, had seen the ships, and, as in duty bound, he went to meet them, to demand from the captains the port taxes which were lawfully due to the king.

But townsfolk and harbour-master alike had made a grievous mistake that summer day. For, as they soon discovered to their cost, and as the red sails might have forewarned them, the three ships were no peaceful merchantmen.

No sooner had the vessels drawn up along the quay than a wild, strange-looking crew sprang to the shore, drew their swords, and speedily slew the harbour-master and his few unarmed followers. They then entered the town, plundering and burning the houses of all, both rich and poor. Leaving the little town in ruins, the strange crew, dragging their booty with them, marched down again to the quay. There they embarked, and without delay sailed away out to sea. Perhaps you have already guessed that the strange crew was a Viking band, that the three ships were Viking ships. So, indeed, they were, and this summer day in the year seven hundred and eighty-nine was the first time that the wild Northmen had been seen in England, or in any part of Europe where the White Christ was worshipped.

But it was not long ere the bright-coloured Viking sails grew to be dreaded in England and also on the Continent. Their very appearance struck terror into the hearts of all men. Monks and armed men alike learned to flee dismayed before the fierceness of the wrath, the violence of the blows, of these foes who had come upon them from the distant North.

As the months and years passed, Viking bands, not with three ships alone, but with large fleets, came to invade and harry the land. Leaving their vessels to be guarded by a third of their number, the others marched into the open country to plunder the inhabitants. Should these venture to defend their goods, the Vikings did not hesitate to slay them or to carry them off as slaves.

Churches or monasteries in those days were the special spoil of the Northmen. For they knew that in these buildings they would find the richest store of gold and silver. Nor was there any reason why the warriors should spare the sacred buildings more than they spared the houses of the people. For the Vikings were pagans. That is to say, they were worshippers of their own gods Thor and Odin, the gods of storm and battle, and for priests and monks they had little respect and less fear.

Now it happened in those days that the holy men or women who founded monasteries, and reared churches dedicated to Christ and the saints, ofttimes chose as a site for these buildings some lone island, or some bold headland over which the storms would dash on wild and wintry nights. It was easy for the sea-rovers to reach such sanctuaries.

One of the most famous of these monasteries had been founded by St. Cuthbert on Lindisfarne or Holy Island, a sea-girt island off the coast of Northumberland. Here, four years after their attack on the little Dorset town, the red sails of the Vikings were once again to be seen. The monastery was no fortress built for defence, and the Vikings having landed at Lindisfarne, had not any difficulty in entering it. They slew the defenceless monks, took all the gold and silver that they could find, and burnt the monastery to the ground. Then, well satisfied with their adventure, they sailed away from Lindisfarne.

Other bands of sea-rovers now appeared here or there. One such band was seen on the south coast of Wales, and, after harrying there, sailed to Dublin bay. Here they found an island monastery which they treated as their fellows had treated the monastery of St. Cuthbert.

The success of these expeditions encouraged the Northmen to come in ever greater numbers to our western shores, while some among them sailed to France, to Italy, and to Spain. Even on the shores of the Black Sea and in Greece the tall Northmen with fair skins, blue eyes, and golden hair were known and dreaded.

In our own land the Northmen were next seen by the inhabitants of Iona, on the west coast of Scotland.

Iona is hallowed to all boys and girls. They remember that on its lonely shore St. Columba landed when he was banished from the fair green isle of Erin. They remember, too, that he founded there his famous monastery, from which teachers went throughout Scotland and even to foreign lands to tell the story of the Cross. But the Vikings came to Iona, and they plundered the monastery there as ruthlessly as they had plundered any other sanctuary.

Then in many a church throughout the British Isles a new petition was added to the Litany, and the solemn and heartfelt cry arose, From the fury of the Northmen, good Lord deliver us.

These forays all took place before the ninth century was many years old. They were but summer expeditions which the Vikings undertook for the sake of adventure, and for the love of plunder.

But before the end of the ninth century the Northmen had ceased to sail away to sea as soon as they had plundered a town or district. They had begun to think that it would be well to settle in the places which they could so easily make their own.

Accordingly they dwelt during the winter months in the castles or strongholds which they had pillaged. These strongholds might be in Scotland, where the power of the Pictish kings was growing too weak to strive with the bold adventurers; they might be in Ireland, where the chiefs were too busy warring with each other to pay much heed to the tall, fair strangers who were settling along their coast or in any other district which they had subdued.

Here, then, in different strongholds, the wild men of the North would dwell, sometimes helping against their foes the chiefs among whom they had settled, sometimes aiding the foes against the chiefs. But when summer came, the longing to rove would come upon them once more and they would sail away to plunder fresh towns, to capture other ships.

So eager, indeed, were the Vikings for adventure, so keen their thirst for battle, that if they could find no strange foe to fight they would challenge another band of Vikings to combat. Then swords would flash, arrows speed their flight, until the deck of one or other of the Viking ships was cleared, the crew killed or taken prisoners, and the ship with its treasures became the property of the conqueror.

Years passed away, and now the attacks of the Northmen on England and other countries were no longer mere summer cruises undertaken by some Viking chief as the mood might move him. But the forays changed into frequent and well-planned expeditions, until the story of the Vikings became wellnigh the history of the kings of the north countries.

Even from the slight glimpse I have given you of these men, you can see that the Vikings were a bold and fearless race, that the age in which they lived was rough and warlike.

Yet it is not alone for their life of wild adventure that you will wish to know more of these roving Northmen. You will be interested in their history even as you are interested in the tales you sometimes hear of your great-grandmother or even your great-great-grandmother. For these old Pagans of the North are indeed relations of your own, as I am going to show you before this chapter ends.

Long before the summer day on which the three Viking ships appeared on the Dorsetshire coast, other three boats had sailed towards our shores. They came from north of the river Elbe in Germany, and sailed on and on until they reached the Isle of Thanet, on the south coast of England. In these ships were Saxons, who first conquered and then settled in the country. This was in the year four hundred and forty-nine.

The Anglo-Saxons, as these strangers were called after they had subdued England, were of the same race as the Northmen who about three hundred years later began to harry our coasts.

But during these three hundred years the Anglo-Saxons had lost the vigour and the independent spirit which had been theirs when first they left their own land. They had grown lazy, indolent, perhaps because having conquered the land there was no great need for them to use their strength. They had lost their free independent spirit through the tyranny of the priests who had been sent by the Catholic Church to teach and train the new settlers in England.

It was to these indolent priest-ridden people that the Northmen came in the eighth century, bringing with them a healthy vigorous life.

It is from these, Norsemen and Danes alike, that we may trace our descent, and it is from them that we learned at least one of our institutions, which we still cherish as one of our most priceless possessions.

In free assemblies of the people the Northmen took part by speech, and if need be by action, in the decisions of kings and chiefs, and in our parliament to-day we cling to the same rights.

It is of the customs and beliefs, of the battles and discoveries of these our northern ancestors, that you are now going to read.

It has been said that the name Vikings was first given to those Northmen who dwelt in a part of Denmark called Viken. However that may be, it was the name given to all the Northmen who took to a wild, sea-roving life, because they would often seek shelter with their boats in one or another of the numerous viks or bays which abounded along their coasts.

Thus the Vikings were not by any means all kings, as you might think from their name, nor, indeed, is the word pronounced Vi-kings, but Vik-ings (or men of the Viks); yet among them were many chiefs of royal descent. These, although they had neither subjects nor kingdoms over which to rule, no sooner stepped on board a Viking's boat to take command of the crew, than they were given the title of king.

The Northmen did not, however, spend all their lives in harrying and burning other countries. When the seas were quiet in the long, summer days, they would go off, as I have told you, on their wild expeditions. But when summer was over, and the seas began to grow rough and stormy, the Viking bands would go home with their booty and stay there, to build their houses, reap their fields, and, when spring had come again, to sow their grain in the hope of a plenteous harvest.

There was thus much that the Viking lad had to learn beyond the art of wielding the battle-axe, poising the spear, and shooting an arrow straight to its mark. Even a freeborn yeoman's son had to work, work as hard as had the slaves or thralls who were under him.

The old history books, or Sagas, as the Norseman called them, have, among other songs, this one about the duties of a well-born lad:

Indeed, it would have surprised you to see the fierce warriors and mighty chiefs themselves laying aside their weapons and working in the fields side by side with their thralls, sowing, reaping, threshing. Yet this they did.

Even kings were often to be seen in the fields during the busy harvest season. They would help their men to cut the golden grain, and with their own royal hands help to fill the barn when the field was reaped. To king and yeoman alike, work, well done, was an honourable deed.

Barley was the grain most cultivated by the Northmen, but they also grew oats, rye, and wheat. If the crops failed, as would often happen, there was great distress in the land.

Corn was threshed with a flail and then ground in handmills. Women usually turned the handles of these mills.

Once a man named Helgi, disguised himself as one of these women thralls in order to escape from his enemies.

It was in vain that his enemies searched for him, Helgi was nowhere to be found. At length in their search his enemies came to a barn in which was a handmill for grinding corn. A tall, strongly-built woman was turning the handle, but so violently did she work, that the mill stones cracked and the barn was shattered to pieces as fragments of the stone flew hither and thither. Then Helgi's enemies pounced upon the vigorous corngrinder, saying, More suited to these hands is the sword-hilt than the handle of the mill.

Helgi indeed it was whom his enemies had discovered under his guise of a female thrall. But with the quick humour that at times stole over these fierce Northmen, Helgi's enemies forgot to punish him as they laughed together over his disguise, and over the strength which had made it useless.

The Northmen built their own houses, for they were carpenters as well as skilful at many another trade. Their buildings rose and their weapons were forged by the strength and cunning of their own right hands.

These houses had only one room, the side walls of which were long and low, with neither windows nor doors. The entrance was at the gable end, where a small door opened into a tiny ante-room. Through the ante-room the Northmen stepped into their large living-room or hall.

Glass was unknown in the North in those days, and the windows were merely open spaces between the beams which formed the roof of the house. They could be closed by wooden shutters.

The spaces which were not left open for light were covered with turf or thatch, but a hole was left above the centre of the room by which the smoke from the fire escaped. For the Northmen had no chimneys in their dwellings.

Sometimes the walls of the house were bare, sometimes they were adorned with weapons and shields, and these were dearer to the men of old than any pictures could have been. On feast-days, however, the women would deck the walls with beautifully woven silks or cloths, which had been brought home from some raiding expedition.

As for carpets, they would have been useless. For the floor was made of clay which had been beaten hard, while the hearth was formed quite simply by placing several large flat stones on the centre of the clay floor. Here the fire blazed right merrily, the smoke escaping through the hole made for the purpose in the centre of the roof.

There was but little furniture in the long, low room, and what there was, was of the plainest. Benches, which were often used as beds, were fixed to the walls.

At meal-times long tables were placed on trestles in front of the benches, and removed again by thralls as soon as the meal was over.

For the rest, wooden stools were occasionally to be found, and a few chests, in which were kept the treasures of the household, jewels and silks, silver and gold, and these were all that the Vikings needed to furnish their houses in those early times.

There were many of the Northmen, however, who were not content to trust their treasures to the chests, whose locks were anything but strong. These would place their jewels and their silver and gold in a copper box or in a large horn; then, digging a hole in the earth they would bury their treasure, marking the spot with a stone, or by some other sign known only to themselves.

Unfortunately the times were dangerous. A stray arrow, a sudden flash of passion, and the owner of a hidden treasure might be slain before he had the chance to tell any one where his goods were buried. Long after the Viking age had ended, farmers, as they ploughed their fields, would discover these hoards and marvel at the riches of the old Viking chiefs.

In winter evenings the room or hall was lighted by the fire which blazed in the centre of the floor, or by torches made of pieces of pine-trees, which were stuck roughly into the walls.

The plates and dishes used by the Vikings were usually plain wooden trenchers. They fed on bread and milk, and used honey instead of sugar. Wild game, too, they would often have after the men came home from the hunt. Horns were for the most part used instead of cups, and these the daughters of the house would hand to the men, brimming over with home-brewed ale or mead.

In the houses of the rich, however, the meals were not so simple or the dishes so plain. Here is a curious old song which will tell you the kind of fare which was provided for the chiefs of the Vikings.

Thus you see that the chiefs who fought could also feast.

Skins, furs, woollen, linen and silken stuffs, all these were used for the dress of the people. Silk, however, was thought a great luxury, and was used only by the wealthiest. When a little Viking prince or noble was born he was wrapped in silk.

The Northmen delighted in bright clothing, scarlet being their favourite colour.

Their kirtle or coat, often of blue, was held together by a waist-belt. Over the kirtle was flung a scarlet cloak fastened at the shoulder with a buckle, which was often of gold or silver and studded with gems.

The Northmen wore boots of a tan colour, gold spurs and a golden helmet, or, if the helmet were laid aside, a grey hat.

Bright colours, too, were worn by the women. Their kirtle or gown had a train and usually long sleeves which reached to the wrist. It was fastened round the waist by a belt, often made, as were the men's, of gold or silver, and from the belt hung a bag in which the women kept their keys. These keys were the sign of the women's power in the household.

In their bag the women would also sometimes keep their rings and other jewels, for then they were sure that they would be well guarded. Over her kirtle a careful housewife would wear an apron.

Hats they did not use; instead they wore a linen cloth called a wimple. This came down over the ears and round the chin. On the top of the wimple they wore a high, twisted cap, which was sometimes bent at the top into the shape of a horn.

They were proud of their beautiful clothes, these women of olden days. Here is a picture the old Sagas draw for us of such housewives.

The Northmen, as I have told you, would often go to the hunt to bring home game for the household, as well as for the pleasure of the chase. Hawking, too, was a sport followed with keenness by kings and nobles alike.

A king named Olaf was used to be very well pleased with himself if he had a good day's sport, just as kings and their subjects still are in our own times. Olaf rode out early one bright morning with hawk and hounds. In its first flight the king's hawk brought down two blackcock, and a short time later three more of the same birds. The hounds darted upon them as they fell to the ground, and Olaf rode homeward with his quarry in great glee.

The king's little daughter ran into the courtyard to meet her father as he came home from the chase.

Hast thou ever heard of such sport in so short a time? he asked her, showing her the birds.

A fine morning's sport is this, my lord, she answered, laughing up into his face, in that you have bagged five blackcock, but Harald, king of Norway, made a better bag when he took in one morning five kings and laid their kingdoms under his sway.

While the men hawked and hunted the women would do their household duties and spin threads into woven stuffs, using, even in those early days, distaff and loom.

Then, their duties over, they would wander down to the nut groves together to gather nuts, or in yet gayer mood they would play at ball, their merry laughter echoing through the glades.

When a Viking baby was born, if he were a prince or noble, he was, as I told you, wrapped in a garment of silk. But before this was done he, and every other little baby, was laid on the cold ground outside the house. And there the poor little thing had to stay until its father was brought to see it. He, the father, would listen to its cry, and the louder it was the better he was pleased, for at least his little son was sound of lung. Then he would lift the baby and feel each limb, and if these were strong enough to satisfy him, he would hand the child to the women who stood anxiously waiting, bidding them tend and care for it.

The child was then washed and clothed, and almost before it could speak or walk it was trained to be brave and to endure hardness, that, when it was older, it might be strong to fight for the gods.

But some little Viking babies could not cry lustily, while their limbs were thin and feeble. Such weak and puny children the fathers would leave lying on the ground, nor without his leave did the women dare to lift them up from the cold earth. So they were left to perish from cold, or, more terrible still, left to be devoured by wild beasts which stole out of the woods in search of food.

At other times it happened that a neighbour would see the little babe by the wayside and be too kind to leave it there. He would stoop to lift it, and carrying it to his own home he would give it to his wife. She would then become the foster-mother of the little child, and he its foster-father.

The bond between the foster-parents and the child would grow stronger as each year passed away, until it seemed that those who had trained the boy and given him a home were indeed his own parents.

Sometimes the Sagas were sung in prose, at other times in verse. Sometimes they were tales which had been handed down from father to son for so many years that it was hard to tell how much of them was history, how much fable. At other times the Sagas were true accounts of the deeds of the Norse kings. For the Skalds were ofttimes to be seen on the battlefields or battleships of the Vikings, and then their songs were of the brave deeds which they had themselves seen done, of the victories and defeats at which they themselves had been present.

In the oldest Sagas you can read of the strange things that these Norsemen believed. If I tell you some of these beliefs you will see that the Vikings, though they were strong warriors, were yet, at the same time, very much like big grown up children.

They believed even as do you, in giants, good giants and bad ones, in dark and gloomy gnomes, in light and merry little elves.

Each man, they thought, was watched over by a guardian spirit. They could not always see this spirit, but that mattered little to these men of old, for though unseen, the spirit was there, real as the comrade whose hand they could clasp in right good fellowship.

On the battlefield they often saw strange maidens near them, and then they knew, these sturdy Northmen, that the gods had sent from Valhalla to guide the fate of the battle. The strange maidens were called Valkyries.

These Valkyries could ride through the air; of that the Northmen had no doubt. They could ride over the sea too, or on the shafts of lightning, which seemed as rays of sunshine from the face of the gods. The maidens rode their fiery steeds clad in glittering armour, and bearing with them spears sharpened for victory or death.

There were in the earliest days only six Valkyries, but as the years passed their number increased to nine. Once, indeed, Helgi saw as many as twenty-seven maidens on a battlefield.

At times these wondrous maidens came to dwell on earth. Listen, and I will tell you how they were discovered by three princes.

The princes were sons of one of the kings of Sweden, and used to spend much of their time running on snowshoes, for there was much snow in their country. They also hunted wild beasts.

One day the three princes came to a lake deep hidden in a forest, and there they tarried and built for themselves a house. Early one morning they were astir, and going down to the edge of a lake they beheld, to their great astonishment, three beautiful women who were spinning flax. Near to them lay the swanskins in which they usually disguised themselves before it was possible for any one to see that they were Valkyries. But this morning the three princes were so early that they caught the maidens unawares.

The three brothers spoke to them courteously, and took them to their home, where they dwelt for seven long winters. Then they grew restless, and one day they disappeared. They had heard again the cry of the battlefields and had gone thither. Nor did the three princes ever see them again, though they bound on their snowshoes and sought for them far and wide.

Valhalla, from which abode the Valkyries came, was the home of the gods. It was there that the warriors who had fought bravely and done great deeds were welcomed. It was also called The Home of the Slain, and had five hundred and forty doors, while each door was so wide that eight hundred warriors could pass through it at the same moment.

Death had no terror for these stalwart warriors. Indeed, some there were who, when the battle was over, sorrowed that they were not among the slain. For it was good to be welcomed to the glad halls of Valhalla, and to sit down to feast at the festive board spread to welcome the brave in the halls of the gods.

Death they did not fear, shame they did, but that could befall them only should they flee before the foe. To win fame, fame that would live in the Sagas of their nation and be handed down from generation to generation, that was the great ambition of these sturdy Northmen.

Another strange belief which the Northmen held will make you think of the fairy tales you know so well.

They believed that some people were able to change their own shape, and become, as they pleased, a bear, a wolf, or any other animal. Those who could not change their own shape, had often this dread power over others.

One of the kings of Norway had a son named Björn who suffered from this evil power of witchcraft. Björn's own mother had died when he was a baby, and he had a stepmother who did not love her little stepson. She therefore struck him with a wolfskin glove one day, saying, Thou shalt become a fierce bear, and thou shalt eat no food save thy father's cattle. So much cattle shalt thou kill that all men shall hear of it, and never shalt thou escape from this spell.

Then, as she finished speaking, a great bear ran out of the courtyard, and Björn was never seen again.

His father, the king, sought for him throughout his realm, but in vain. But from the day that Björn vanished, it is told that a fierce, gray bear was often to be seen prowling among the king's cattle, until their numbers speedily diminished.

Not only did the Northmen believe that they could change their own or another man's form, they believed that they could change their own tempers or characters as well, and that seems almost a more difficult thing to do. The way in which they could change their temper was to eat the flesh or drink the blood of some wild beast. No sooner did they do this, than they became strong and fierce as the animal of whose flesh and blood they had partaken.

In the old Sagas there are many tales of men who became changed in this way. Here is one which you will like to hear.

It was the merry Yuletide, but in a certain part of Norway gloom hung heavy over the king's court even at this the merriest season of the year. And it was scarce to be wondered at, for a terrible unknown animal with wings on its back had come for two winters to this land, doing much damage to man and beast.

The animal seemed weapon-proof, as the old Norsemen would say, for neither sword, spear, nor arrow seemed able to pierce its hide, so tough and strong it was. It was true that the king's greatest champions were abroad on Viking expeditions, else surely the beast would have been slain long ago.

But Bödvar, a brave hero, was ashamed that none dared to fight the beast. He arose in the king's court and said, The hall is not so well manned as I thought, if one creature is to lay waste the realm and property of the king. Then as no one spoke, Bödvar himself resolved to fight the unknown animal.

He left the hall, taking with him his comrade Hött; but Hött was so afraid to face the fierce creature who had wrought such havoc in the land, that he could scarce walk. Then, without more ado, Bödvar lifted him up and carried him out of the courtyard and down toward the forest. At length they stood before the beast, and Hött shouted as loud as he could that the animal was going to swallow him. Bödvar then flung his comrade on to the soft, green moss at their feet and bade him be silent. And Hött lay where he fell, nor did he dare to move or to utter a word.

Then Bödvar drew his sword, and, by some mischance, it stuck in its scabbard. However, he got it free, and thrust at the beast under its shoulder so hard that it fell, pierced through to the heart.

Well pleased then was the hero with his deed, and turning to Hött he carried him to where the beast lay dead. But still his comrade trembled for fear.

Now shalt thou drink the blood of the beast, said Bjorn; and Hött, though he was unwilling to do so, did not dare to refuse. Two large mouthfuls did Bödvar force him to swallow, and also he made him eat part of the creature's heart.

Thou shalt wrestle with me now, said Bödvar, and they struggled long together.

Henceforth I do not think that thou wilt fear man or beast, said Bödvar panting with his efforts; for thou hast become strong. And sturdily answered Hött, I will not be afraid of thee or of any wild beast, for I feel strength has entered into my heart.

That is well, my companion, said Bödvar: let us go lift up the beast. And this they did, and the realm rejoiced once more ere the Yuletide festivals were ended.

The greatest champions in the North were called Berserks. Neither fire nor weapons could harm these men, so it seemed to those against whom they fought. Yet they wore no coats of mail as a protection against their enemies, but fought in bare shirts. It was for this reason that they were called Berserks, for serk is just our word for shirt.

When they saw an enemy, the Berserks would be seized with a sudden, frenzy of rage. They would bite their shields, and then, flinging them aside, they would rush upon the foe with nothing but a club in their hands. But so great was their strength that a blow from one of these clubs was usually a deathblow.

There were times when this frenzy attacked the Berserks though no enemy was near. Then, should they happen to be at sea, they would row to the shore and wrestle with large stones or trees until their rage was spent. In these fierce fits of anger the Berserks were also believed to change their shapes and to take the form of the strongest beast that they knew.

Since the Berserks were never known to fight without gaining the victory, every king and chief tried to gather around him a band of these great champions. For they would stay with him in winter to guard his realms, and go with him in summer on Viking expeditions. If a king or chief were famed for his brave deeds and for the liberal rewards he gave to his followers, the Berserks would flock to his court from the most distant parts of the North.

I have told you that the Viking warriors did not fear death on the battlefields. Their belief in the joys of Valhalla, and the welcome that awaited them there, took away all such dread. But though they were without fear of death, they were careful to tell their sons or subjects where they wished to be buried.

The Northmen wished their bodies to rest near to their friends or near to the homes in which their families would still dwell. For they believed that then their spirits would talk one to the other, and even that they would still be able to watch over their households.

A large mound of gravel and earth was raised above the spot where the Northmen were laid. The mounds of great chiefs were shunned at all times, but especially at night, when flames were often seen to burst forth from them, while the ghost of the chief would appear walking upon the earth.

In very early times the bodies of the slain were laid on a ship, which was then set on fire and pushed out to sea. But in later days the ships were sometimes used as immense coffins, and buried under earth and stones.

If you were in Norway and went to the Museum at Christiania, you would see there the ruins of an old Viking ship which had once been used in this way.

The warrior who was buried in the Gökstad ship, as it is named, had been a chief of great renown. For the skeletons of at least twelve horses were found in the mound and also the remains of several dogs, while the bones and feathers of a peacock were scattered here and there inside the ship. Believing that the dead warrior was going with all speed to the halls of Valhalla, his friends had buried the ship with its prow towards the sea, as though ready for a voyage.

But I have still to tell you of a strange duty which the Northman believed he must do for his dead kinsman. Whether he were going to the bright, warm halls of Valhalla or to the realm of Hades, where all was cold and dark, he must be well shod for his journey.

Therefore the Northman would take shoes—hell-shoes they were called—and bind them firmly on to the feet of his kinsman. Sometimes it was not needful to use the hell-shoes even when they were bound on, for horses and carriages were buried with the dead man, so that if he willed, he might enter Valhalla driving or riding on horseback.

As I told you, many people were afraid to venture near the mounds in which great chiefs were buried. Yet some there were who cast away all fear, that they might break into these burial-places and seize for themselves the treasures hidden there. When, as often happened, the swords or other buried weapons were believed to have magic power, the flames and the ghosts of the dead chiefs were the more readily encountered.

Once, say the old Sagas, a woman dressed in a man's dress went to a band of Vikings and was with them for a while and was called Hervard. A little after, the chief of the Vikings died, and Hervard got command of them.

She wished to land at a certain spot where there were mounds, but her men said it would not do to stay out at night.

But said Hervard, Much property is likely to be in the mounds, and at sunset she went alone on the island.

There she met a herd-boy and asked him for tidings.

He said, Dost thou not know the island? Come home with me, for it will not do for any man to stay out here after sunset. I am going home at once.

Hervard replied, Tell me where are the mounds?

The boy said, Thou art unwise, as thou wantest to search for that at night which few dare search for at midday. Burning fire plays on the mounds after sunset.

But Hervard replied that she would certainly go to the mounds.

Then said the shepherd, I see that thou art a bold man though thou art unwise. I will give thee my necklace if thou wilt come home with me. 

Hervard answered, Though thou wouldst give me all thou ownest thou couldst not hinder me from going! 

So together the shepherd lad and the Viking set out towards the mounds, but when the sun set they heard hollow noises in the island and the mound fires appeared. The shepherd got frightened and took to his feet and ran into the forest as quickly as he could and never looked back.

Now when Hervard reached the mounds she sang aloud that the buried chiefs might hear her, and bade them give her the magic sword which was buried with them.

As she sang, slowly the mounds opened, and fire and smoke leaped out of them and a voice bade Hervard hasten back to her ships. But the Viking was fearless and refused to go without the sword. After many warnings of the harm it might bring to her, the weapon was at length flung into her hands.

Then Hervard was well pleased, for she thought the sword a better gift than the whole of Norway.

But the voice spoke again, Thou wilt not believe it, but this sword will destroy all thy kin.

I will go down to the steeds of the sea, said Hervard, meaning her ships. I fear little how my sons may hereafter quarrel.

If thou wouldst but believe that the sword has poison in both edges and is worse than disease, I would give to thee the strength of twelve men, said the voice from the mound.

But Hervard paid no heed to these words and turned away toward the sea. The dawn broke as she reached the shore, and Hervard saw that the ships had sailed away, for the Vikings had been afraid of the thunder and fire in the island and had forsaken their commander. Thus Hervard was left alone with the buried chiefs.

Their warships were called long-ships and were half-decked. The rowers sat in the centre of the boat, which was low, so that their oars could reach the water. Sails were used, either red or painted in different stripes, red, blue, yellow, green. These square, brightly coloured sails gave the boats a gay appearance, which was increased by the round shields which were hung outside the gunwale and which were also painted red, black, or white. At the prow there was usually a beautifully carved and gorgeously painted figurehead. The stem and stern of the ships were high. In the stern there was an upper deck, but in the forepart of the vessel there was nothing but loose planks on which the sailors could step. When a storm was raging or a battle was being fought, the loose planks did not, as you may imagine, offer a very firm foothold.

The boats were usually built long and pointed for the sake of speed, and had seats for thirty rowers. Besides the rowers, the long-boats could hold from sixty to one hundred and fifty sailors.

Merchant ships carried cargoes of meal and timber. They were built much as were the long-ships, but as they had no shields hung around the gunwale, it was easy to see whether a vessel were a warship or a merchantman.

On land or on sea the weapons which the Vikings used were the same—swords, spears, battle-axes, clubs, bows and arrows. When Viking fleets met an enemy, they would blow a ringing blast on their horns, hoist their standards, and then, tying the stems of their ships firmly together, they were ready to fall upon their prey.

As the ships drew closer together the Vikings would throw out grappling-hooks and drag the enemy's ships alongside their own. No sooner was this done than some of the bravest of the Viking crew, led by their chiefs, would leap on board the enemy's ships. Then using sword and spear, battle-axe and club unsparingly, they would rid themselves of their foes. The decks would soon be cleared, and the ship and its treasures become the prey of the victorious Northmen.

If a great battle were before them, the Viking chiefs picked their crew with the utmost care. No one younger than twenty or older than sixty years of age was chosen, and these were all noted for their valour and their strength.

The struggle was usually fiercest near the prow and the stern of the ship. Here the king and the chiefs would take their stand, while around them pressed their most valiant followers. Near them stood the standard-bearer waving on high his banner.

Sometimes the Vikings would stretch chains or cables across the entrance to a harbour, and these endangered the vessels of those who might seek to enter and attack them unawares.

Indeed, once a jarl named Hakon rowed his long-ship into the Sound between two vessels which he thought were merchantmen.

Perhaps it was not by any mistake that the war-shields had not been hung over the gunwale; perhaps the Vikings were hoping to catch Hakon jarl in a trap. Be that as it may, the ships which Hakon thought were harmless merchantmen were in reality Viking long-ships.

As the keel of Hakon's vessel was passing over the cable which had been stretched across the opening into the Sound, the Vikings began to haul it in with a windlass. Soon the cable touched the bottom of the vessel, and the stern began to rise while the prow was plunged forward so that the water rushed into the ship. Before Hakon and his men could do anything to save themselves the ship was filled and upset. Hakon jarl had indeed been caught in a trap.

If you ever go to Christiania you will see the ruins of one of these old long-ships in the museum there, for the Gökstad vessel of which I have told you was built very much as any other warship of the Viking age.