VIKING TALES - Classic Illustrated Viking Stories for Children E-Book

Anon E. Mouse

• Herausgeber: Abela Publishing
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

A GREAT READ FOR YOUNG VIKINGS! In ancient Iceland every midsummer there was a great meeting. Men from all over the country came and made laws. During the day there were rest times, when no business was going on. Then some skald would take his harp and walk to a large stone or a knoll and stand on it and begin a song of some brave deed of an old Norse hero. At the first sound of the harp and the voice, men would come running from all directions, crying out: "A skald! A skald! A saga!" There they would stand for hours listening and shouting applause. When the skald was tired, another would take his place. The best skalds were well travelled and visited many people. Their songs made them welcome everywhere. They were always honoured with good seats at a feast and were given many rich gifts. Even the King of Norway was known to sometimes send across the water to Iceland for a skald to attend his court. Initially these tales, or sagas, were not written for few men wrote or read in those days. When at last people began to read and write, they first recorded the sagas on sheepskin, or vellum. Many of these old vellum books have been saved for hundreds of years and are now in museums in Norway and Iceland. Some pages have been lost, some are torn and all are yellow and crumpled. But they are precious. They tell us all that we know about that olden time. There are the very words that the men of Iceland wrote so long ago—stories of kings and of battles and of ship-sailing. Some of the most significant old stories are now told in this book. 10% of the publisher’s profit from the sale of this book will be donated to UNICEF. ======= KEYWORDS/TAGS: Viking Tales, Jennie Hall, men, Thing, battle, beautiful, boat, died, door, Eric, father, feast, fight, fire, gold, great, Greenland, Gudrid, guests, hall, Harald, head, house, Iceland, Ingolf, king, King Harald, land, Leif Ericson, Leif Ericsson, man, night, Norsemen, Norway, Odin, Olaf, one, One, people, red, sail, sea, ship, shore, shouted, strange, sword, Thor, Thorfinn, thralls, three, together, Valhalla, vow, Vinland, America, USA, Canada, water, white, wife, Wineland, women, woods, Newfoundland, scald, saga

Leseprobe

Viking Tales

By

Jennie Hall

Illustrated by

Victor R. Lambdin

Originally Published by

Rand McNally & Co.

Chicago, New York, London

[1902]

* * * * * * *

Resurrected by

Abela Publishing, London

[2018]

Viking Tales

Typographical arrangement of this edition

© Abela Publishing 2018

This book may not be reproduced in its current format in any manner in any media, or transmitted by any means whatsoever, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, or mechanical ( including photocopy, file or video recording, internet web sites, blogs, wikis, or any other information storage and retrieval system) except as permitted by law without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Abela Publishing

London

United Kingdom

2018

ISBN-13: 978-1-XXXXXX-XX-X

email

[email protected]

Website

Viking Sagas

Acknowledgements

Abela Publishing acknowledges the work that

Jennie Hall

did in compiling and publishing

Viking Tales

in a time well before any electronic media was in use.

* * * * * * *

10% of the net profit from the sale of this book

will be donated to charity

* * * * * * *

Abela Publishing,

republishing

YESTERDAY’S BOOKS for TODAY’S CHARITIES

A map showing the journeys of the Vikings

Transcriber's Note

Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. In the Pronouncing Index the up tack diacritical mark over a vowel is represented by [+a], [+e], [+i] and [+o].

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

VIKING TALES

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

WHAT THE SAGAS WERE

PART I: IN NORWAY

THE BABY

THE TOOTH THRALL

OLAF'S FARM

OLAF'S FIGHT WITH HAVARD

FOES'-FEAR

HARALD IS KING

HARALD'S BATTLE

GYDA'S SAUCY MESSAGE

THE SEA FIGHT

KING HARALD'S WEDDING

KING HARALD GOES WEST-OVER-SEAS

PART II : WEST-OVER-SEAS

HOMES IN ICELAND

ERIC THE RED

LEIF AND HIS NEW LAND

WINELAND THE GOOD

DESCRIPTIVE NOTES

SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS

A READING LIST

GEOGRAPHY

CUSTOMS

MYTHOLOGY

INCIDENTS

CREDIBILITY OF STORY

OTHER SAGAS EASILY ACCESSIBLE

A PRONOUNCING INDEX

A GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION

A List of Illustrations

List of Illustrations

A map showing the journeys of the Vikings

"I own this baby for my son. He shall be called Harald"

"He threw back his cape and drew a little dagger from his belt"

"I struck my shield against the door so that it made a great clanging"

"Then he turned to the shore and sang out loudly"

"He drove it into the wolf's neck"

"I vow that I will grind my father's foes under my heel"

"King Haki fell dead under 'Foes'-fear'"

"I will not be his wife unless he puts all of Norway under him for my sake"

"Then he leaped into King Arnvid's boat"

"I, Harald, King of Norway, take you, Gyda, for my wife"

"In Norway they left burning houses and weeping women"

"Then he saw that Leif's ship was being driven afar off"

"Those Icelanders clapped them on the shoulders"

"He looked straight ahead of him and scowled"

"More than half the men in the hall jumped to their feet"

"It is a bigger boat than I ever saw before"

"He pointed to the woods and laughed and rolled his eyes"

"The chief held them out to Thorfinn and hugged the cloak to him"

What the Sagas Were

What the Sagas Were

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. Fathers looked at their children and thought:

"They are not learning much. What will make them brave and wise? What will teach them to love their country and old Norway? Will not the stories of battles, of brave deeds, of mighty men, do this?"

So, as the family worked in the red fire-light, the father told of the kings of Norway, of long voyages to strange lands, of good fights. And in farmhouses all through Iceland these old tales were told over and over until everybody knew them and loved them. Some men could sing and play the harp. This made the stories all the more interesting. People called such men "skalds," and they called their songs "sagas."

Every midsummer there was a great meeting. Men from all over Iceland came to it and made laws. During the day there were rest times, when no business was going on. Then some skald would take his harp and walk to a large stone or a knoll and stand on it and begin a song of some brave deed of an old Norse hero. At the first sound of the harp and the voice, men came running from all directions, crying out:

"The skald! The skald! A saga!"

They stood about for hours and listened. They shouted applause. When the skald was tired, some other man would come up from the crowd and sing or tell a story. As the skald stepped down from his high position, some rich man would rush up to him and say:

"Come and spend next winter at my house. Our ears are thirsty for song."

So the best skalds traveled much and visited many people. Their songs made them welcome everywhere. They were always honored with good seats at a feast. They were given many rich gifts. Even the King of Norway would sometimes send across the water to Iceland, saying to some famous skald:

"Come and visit me. You shall not go away empty-handed. Men say that the sweetest songs are in Iceland. I wish to hear them."

These tales were not written. Few men wrote or read in those days. Skalds learned songs from hearing them sung. At last people began to write more easily. Then they said:

"These stories are very precious. We must write them down to save them from being forgotten."

After that many men in Iceland spent their winters in writing books. They wrote on sheepskin; vellum, we call it. Many of these old vellum books have been saved for hundreds of years, and are now in museums in Norway. Some leaves are lost, some are torn, all are yellow and crumpled. But they are precious. They tell us all that we know about that olden time. There are the very words that the men of Iceland wrote so long ago—stories of kings and of battles and of ship-sailing. Some of those old stories I have told in this book.

PART IIN NORWAY

The Baby

King Halfdan lived in Norway long ago. One morning his queen said to him:

"I had a strange dream last night. I thought that I stood in the grass before my bower.[1] I pulled a thorn from my dress. As I held it in my fingers, it grew into a tall tree. The trunk was thick and red as blood, but the lower limbs were fair and green, and the highest ones were white. I thought that the branches of this great tree spread so far that they covered all Norway and even more."

"A strange dream," said King Halfdan. "Dreams are the messengers of the gods. I wonder what they would tell us," and he stroked his beard in thought.

Sometime after that a serving-woman came into the feast hall where King Halfdan was. She carried a little white bundle in her arms.

"My lord," she said, "a little son is just born to you."

"Ha!" cried the king, and he jumped up from the high seat and hastened forward until he stood before the woman.

"Show him to me!" he shouted, and there was joy in his voice.

The serving-woman put down her bundle on the ground and turned back the cloth. There was a little naked baby. The king looked at it carefully.

"It is a goodly youngster," he said, and smiled. "Bring Ivar and Thorstein."[2]

They were captains of the king's soldiers. Soon they came.

"Stand as witnesses," Halfdan said.

Then he lifted the baby in his arms, while the old serving-woman brought a silver bowl of water. The king dipped his hand into it and sprinkled the baby, saying:

"I own this baby for my son. He shall be called Harald. My naming gift to him is ten pounds of gold."

Then the woman carried the baby back to the queen's room.

"I own this baby for my son. He shall be called Harald"

"My lord owns him for his son," she said. "And no wonder! He is perfect in every limb."

The queen looked at him and smiled and remembered her dream and thought:

"That great tree! Can it be this little baby of mine?"

FOOTNOTES

[1] See note about house in Descriptive Notes

[2] See note about names in Descriptive Notes

The Tooth Thrall

When Harald was seven months old he cut his first tooth. Then his father said:

"All the young of my herds, lambs and calves and colts, that have been born since this baby was born I this day give to him. I also give to him this thrall, Olaf. These are my tooth-gifts to my son."

The boy grew fast, for as soon as he could walk about he was out of doors most of the time. He ran in the woods and climbed the hills and waded in the creek. He was much with his tooth thrall, for the king had said to Olaf:

"Be ever at his call."

Now this Olaf was full of stories, and Harald liked to hear them.

"Come out to Aegir's Rock, Olaf, and tell me stories," he said almost every day.

So they started off across the hills. The man wore a long, loose coat of white wool, belted at the waist with a strap. He had on coarse shoes and leather leggings. Around his neck was an iron collar welded together so that it could not come off. On it were strange marks, called runes, that said:

"Olaf, thrall of Halfdan."

But Harald's clothes were gay. A cape of gray velvet hung from his shoulders. It was fastened over his breast with great gold buckles. When it waved in the wind, a scarlet lining flashed out, and the bottom of a little scarlet jacket showed. His feet and legs were covered with gray woolen tights. Gold lacings wound around his legs from his shoes to his knees. A band of gold held down his long, yellow hair.

It was a wild country that these two were walking over. They were climbing steep, rough hills. Some of them seemed made all of rock, with a little earth lying in spots. Great rocks hung out from them, with trees growing in their cracks. Some big pieces had broken off and rolled down the hill.

"Thor broke them," Olaf said. "He rides through the sky and hurls his hammer at clouds and at mountains. That makes the thunder and the lightning and cracks the hills. His hammer never misses its aim, and it always comes back to his hand and is eager to go again."

When they reached the top of the hill they looked back. Far below was a soft, green valley. In front of it the sea came up into the land and made a fiord. On each side of the fiord high walls of rock stood up and made the water black with shadow. All around the valley were high hills with dark pines on them. Far off were the mountains. In the valley were Halfdan's houses around their square yard.

"How little our houses look down there!" Harald said. "But I can almost—yes, I can see the red dragon on the roof of the feast hall. Do you remember when I climbed up and sat on his head, Olaf?"

He laughed and kicked his heels and ran on.

At last they came to Aegir's Rock and walked up on its flat top. Harald went to the edge and looked over. A ragged wall of rock reached down, and two hundred feet below was the black water of the fiord. Olaf watched him for a while, then he said:

"No whitening of your cheek, Harald? Good! A boy that can face the fall of Aegir's Rock will not be afraid to face the war flash when he is a man."

"Ho, I am not afraid of the war flash now," cried Harald.

He threw back his cape and drew a little dagger from his belt.

"See!" he cried; "does this not flash like a sword? And I am not afraid. But after all, this is a baby thing!