Jan-Maat’s Reviews > Wayward Heroes > Status Update

The man replies: "I am the Icelandic skald"
"Welcome, skald," says the king. "Did I hear correctly earlier tbis evening, that you composed a lay for me?"
"You did indeed, sire," days this man. "I have composed a very precious lay for the greatest hero on the North, & for you, his king. This lay I paid for with my blisd & sun, & my daughters, moon & star, & with my own beauty & health, hands, legs, hair & teeth,...

The future saint Olaf addresses his army:
"I bow designate you the defenders of the kingdom of Norway, & the time has come for us to burn the Norwegian peasants' dwellings to charcoal...whereever you see a churl...cut off his head. If you see a cow, slaughter it...wells - piss in them. You are the liberators & defenders of Norway...

" why are you lame in both legs?" They ask.
"Because," says he, " that is the only cure for being lame in only one leg."

- skål to that!

When we who composed this narrative came to Verdal one day a thousand years later, & beheld the blue heaths to the east - whence the king led his final march into Norway, bereft of clerics, firsaken by skalds, abandoned by friends & livers, but backed by a foreign, heathen army - the stones were then silent in Stiklestad, of course, & nothing remained of King Olaf's sagabut a soughing in the leaves.

Among this group is a stately, ruddy faced old man, who says: "I had toiled hard to dig a well, deep & clear, when King Olaf Haraldson turned up with 15 of his commanders, bearing the sign of the cross. The highest 3 in rank, he called his wise men from the east. The other 12, he called his apostles...all of these men, both the commanders of his army & the king himself, came & pissed in my well."

The daltmaker replies: "we have had plenty of kings in Norway, but the only ones that proved of any useto us were thise that we sacrificed for good harvests & peace"

It had not been long since 12 popes in 2 decades were laid low by their rivals, poisoned or murdered in some other clandestine way, while others were first beheaded & then hanged by their feet, not counting those who were blinded, had their noses chopped off or their tongues torn out, or ended their lives in dungeons or snakepits, or were paraded backwards on asses in the city streets

Bishop Grímkell was clad as a pauper, staff in hand. The accounts say that he carried in his scrio no treasure apart from an old fermented cheese - one of those sorts produced in the north that stibk most of all the things known in Christendom & cause thieves, pilferers & cutthroats to avoid any pilgrim who carries such an abomination.

This force comprised more highwaymen, bark-eaters, & brigands than any before it. The rank & file were fed gruel, those above them lutefisk, & the captains meat. At first, the men were not given weapons, so that they would not kill each other...the men were poorly clad & wrapped their feet in birch-bark until spring arrived with warmer air.

As glad asOlafwasof this fighting force, the lords in the east were no less gratified, in this time of famine, that the king of the Swedes should have thieves & paupers & other wicked rabble rounded up on the mainland & shipped off to be slaughtered west of the Baltic.