Hrolf's Saga

 

"Where are my reapers that sing of war, and a lance-darting trembling of slaughter. The bite of the blue-headed spear in the flesh, the thirst of the deep-drinking arrows of wrath, and ravens…red with the warring ?"

 

Hrolf Arnisson at work in the village.

During the long, hot summer of 910, in the Danish-held City of Jorvik, a son was born to Godive, English wife of the Dane Arni Ingulfson. Grandson to Ingulf, a veteran warrior of the Great Army which had conquered much of Northern Britain, Hrolf was born into a family grown wealthy…… firstly by plunder, and later by trading fine skins and leathers along the dangerous trade-routes of Northern Europe.

With advancing years, the old warrior had come to rely increasingly on Arni and his younger brother Tostig, Arni gaining a reputation for ferocity in battle, and Tostig for his cunning in trade. Arni was determined that his son would learn all there was to know about the business that he would inherit, and Hrolf's boyhood was spent in the workshops and wharves of the busy port, learning from the skilled craftsmen and listening to the stories of the seamen on the dock. As manhood approached, he dreamed of the day when he would take out his own ship, leaving behind the crowded streets of Jorvik and the jealous wrangling of his cousins.

The fateful year of 937 saw Hrolf an established craftsman and even whispers of an impending invasion of the Irish Norse could not cloud Hrolf's vision of the future. Then, whilst spending the night with a pretty young thrall, he was awakened by the furtive sounds of men moving past the servants quarters. Silently collecting his weapons, he followed, and discovered his uncle and several others- Irish by their garb- standing over the lifeless body of his father. Suppressing his rage, he crept unseen to the hoard-chest, and vowing vengeance, fled to the dock with his uncle's silver. With heavy heart, Hrolf sought out his friend Thorfinn Gunnarson, master of the 'Thorr's Lady', and began a new life on the high seas.

 The following years brought both scars and profit to the young craftsman as he helped crew the knarr along the rivers, fjords and seaways with his friend, and many a tale could be told of how he won his sword, 'Blodwarp' in battle on the banks of the great Danube, or how he took terrible revenge upon his uncle in the hall of king Gorm the Old. Our story cannot wait, however, and it is in the year 942, that we see 'Thorr's Lady' moored at the Mercian trading port at Bewdlay, laden with furs from the North.

The inland port of Bewdlay lay near to the border between Mercia and the Danelaw, and was popular with traders as a safe place of business as King Edmund drove his army further North, striking deep into Danish Northumbria. One such man was Jarl Olaf Haroldson, supplier of fine cloth to the royal court, and a loyal supporter of the crown. A figure well-known among the sea-going adventurers of the North, the Jarl had come with only a light escort to Bewdlay in search of profit Seeing the pennant of his old friend Jarl Olaf, and anticipating feasting and trade, Thorfinn drew Hrolf swiftly toward the marketplace, where they came upon the Jarl and his men beset by an ugly crowd bent on thievery. Carving a bloody path through the press, the two seamen fought through to Olaf's side and helped put the mob to flight, but as Hrolf paused to draw breath, a seemingly dead attacker rose from the ground and plunged a seax deep into his side.

Fearing that the wound might be mortal, Olaf and Thorfinn carried the stricken Hrolf from the market, and sought the aid of Mistress Rowena, a young widow famed for her skill in herb-craft. In the long months that followed, the wound slowly mended and the seaman and widow became fond of each other. By the following Spring Hrolf was healed, and Rowena carried his child in her belly.

 Dark Age Leatherwork

(under construction)

Hrolf and Rowena

 Rowena's tale

(under construction)

With good reason now to settle, Hrolf accepted Olaf Haroldson's offer of a place in his service, and has since plied his trade at Dahrg de Belne, when not at sea or fighting at the word of his Jarl. His craftsmanship is much sought after by the Mercian nobility. Although his lord is a follower of Christ and supporter of the Church, Hrolf prefers the Gods of his fathers and is more likely to be found with his comrades at the 'Raven and Entrail' than in any chapel. He will pray to any god you please for the price of a horn of ale, but puts his trust only in silver and steel.