C.J. Adrien's Blog, page 17

Do You Have Viking Blood?

It’s no secret that the Vikings were prolific (and terrific) progenitors. They travelled far in search of riches, and often those they encountered were of interest to them in more ways than one. A recent study in the Orkneys found that the local population’s belief that their ancestry stemmed back to Ireland was in fact wrong. Instead, most of the island’s population are of Norse heritage genetically. Surprises such as these are actually common. Communities often build elaborate stories about their ancestry, but recent advances in genetic testing have allowed researchers to paint a very different picture of who is made of what. When it comes to the Vikings, for example, it turns out they did not simply show up, pillage, rape, and leave, but instead colonized favorable areas, leaving behind a highly pronounced genetic lineage. Thus begs the question: do you have Viking blood?

If you don’t think you have Viking blood in you, think again. The Scandinavians of the Viking Age spread their seed and their people across the known world. Below is a list of modern countries and how likely you are to be a Viking descendant if you are from one of them.

U.K. — the city of York was once the Norse city of Jorvik, and the Vikings at one time had carved out half of Britain for themselves in a territory called Danelaw. In 1066, England was invaded by William the Conquerer and his army of francophone Vikings, the Normans (French for ‘north men’). If your are British or Scottish, it is VERY likely you have Viking blood in you. In fact, recent studies have shown that nearly one quarter of all Britts are directly descended from the Vikings. In Scotland, it’s a slightly different story. Although not as widespread, Norse heritage is still a prominent piece of the genetic pie.

Ireland — the cities of Dublin, Wexford, Cork, Limerick, among others were founded by the Vikings. If you are Irish, it is VERY likely you have Viking in you. Interestingly, there are some who theorize that the iconic Irish red hair was a Norse import rather than a Celtic one, although without proper genetic testing it is just an unproven theory. Ireland struggled for many years to rid themselves of the Vikings. Particularly, the great kings of Leinster such as Muiredach Mac Ruadrach swore specific oaths to the church to help push back against the pagan invasion. In 847, the Irish scored several key victories across the island which effectively expelled most of the Norse settlers from their lands, but fewer than two decades later they returned. Viking settlements in Ireland played the game of politics well and over the course of the next century and a half established themselves firmly in Irish lands and the Irish genetic pool.

France — Normandy is the obvious region of France one thinks of when thinking of the Vikings. But Brittany (Bretagne) and the Vendée regions of France were also heavily settled by displaced Scandinavians in search of a new home. If you are from Western France, it is VERY likely you have Viking in you. If you are from Central or Eastern France, it is not likely—those regions are genetically German. Along the coast, the Vikings built more lofty settlements than they had in Ireland, most likely due to the fact that the Carolingian empire was a much more difficult foe to face than the kings of Leinster. According to sources, the Norsemen who pushed into Brittany were from Norway, having sailed around the U.K. and down through the Irish Sea to reach it. As they carved out swathes of land for themselves in the late 9th and early 10th centuries, the Norwegians came into conflict with the Danes in Normandy. It was by exploiting this conflict that the Bretons were able to push back their invaders and eventually expel them from the region. Still, their century-long presence left an indelible mark on the local genetic pool.

The Netherlands —  The Netherlands were heavily raided for centuries and colonized on multiple occasions by the Danes. In the long run, however, the Franks maintained too strong a dominion over the region, causing the Northmen to flee. If you are dutch, it is SOMEWHAT likely that you have Viking in you.

Spain — The coast of Asturias was attacked several times by the Vikings. What’s more, they successfully sacked Lisbon and captured Seville and inflicted great fear in the Moors. However, they did not colonize Spain heavily, therefore if you are from Spain or Portugal, you only have a SLIM chance of having Viking blood, but a chance nonetheless. Following the humiliating defeats at the hands of the Norsemen, the Moors quickly built up their navy which successfully repelled Viking attacks in the second half of the 9th century. Hastein, a supposed son of Ragnar Lothbrok, partook in an infamous excursion into the Mediterranean which ended mostly in disaster due to the strength of the Moorish fleet guarding the straight of Gibraltar.

Italy — If you are from an area in Italy that was once part of the Norman kingdom of Italy, you are VERY likely to have Viking blood in you.

Russia, Ukraine, Poland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Belarus — Russia was named after the Swedish Vikings known as the Rus. The Rus helped to found the city states of Kiev and Novgorod, as well as Moscow. The Tsars considered themselves direct and proud descendants of the Rus. If you are from these regions, you are EXTREMELY likely to have Viking blood in you, especially if you are light skinned. Over several centuries, the Rus exerted their power over the slavic states and added a great deal of their genetic material to the mix. They travelled as far as Constantinople and even served as the Emperor’s personal body guards, today referred to as the Varangian Guard.

The Balkans — The Rus travelled as far as Constantinople, and many stayed there to father children…lots and lots of children. There is a very slight genetic pool from Scandianvia in the Balkans today, but it is fairly limited.

Mongolia — Although the Vikings never travelled as far as Mongolia, the Mongolian Golden Horde did invade and occupy Eastern Europe and brought back to Mongolia their favorite new pets — blue-eyed blonds. Today there is a recessive gene in Mongolia by which children are born with light hair and blue eyes. Since we know about the Vikings in Russia, specifically their blue-eyed blond-haired descendants, we know that Norse genes were present in the areas conquered by the Mongols. Those with Norse traits were the more likely choices for slaves for the Mongols to take home and show off (and rape and make children and so on). It may be inferred that the recessive blue-eyed blond hair genome in Mongolia today is from the Vikings. For that, of course, we have Genghis Kahn to thank. See the picture below of the genetic trait in question:

Don’t forget that I wrote a couple of fun action/adventure books about the Vikings in France. They are:

 

The Shadow – A Historical Short

THE SHADOW

a historical short story

The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Preface

The following short story was inspired by an actual account as it is found in the Annals of Fulda. The original account describes strange events perpetrated by a maleficent entity who allegedly tormented the village of Bingen (modern day Germany) for three years in the latter portion of the 9th Century. The authors of the annals present the story not only as a mere side note of the greater history of the Carolingian Empire, but also as a stark reminder of the dangers presented by the spiritual world.

It must be noted that the medieval period as a whole was an age of belief, meaning nearly everyone would have accepted that there is a God unquestioningly. Therefore this story at the time would have been easily accepted as true and would have disturbed those who heard it. This story also happens to be one of the earliest accounts of a Christian exorcism, although the methods described are hardly reminiscent of what that practice has become today.

Was there a maleficent being causing trouble in a remote German village in the late 9th century? The answer is for the reader to decide.

The Shadow

I was eleven when He arrived in our village. No one knows where He came from nor why He came. There had been three generations of men since the great Charlemagne had brought Christ to our people. The priests told us the light of Christ would protect us from pagan evils, that we would be cleansed of pagan sin. But Christ was not there when He arrived. Christ did not protect us when He burned our houses and our fields.

My father was a farmer. His field was plotted between the edge of the village and the dark Bingen forest. Most houses were made of wood and straw, except for that of the priest who had begun to construct a stone church with money sent to him by the church in Ingleheim. Our town sat on the border with Lotharingie, a land that had changed hands so many times between bickering lords that there existed an anarchy. Bands of marauders often emerged from the forests to attack the rich villages along the Rhine, including Ingelheim. We were fortunate. As a poor farming village, the bands often passed through without stirring up trouble. We did, however, live under constant threat, for we did not know if one of these groups of bandits might someday attack our village. Fortunately the local lord pushed back against the raids and built a wooden watch tower on the edge of the Rhine and the forest. For a time at least, the raids subsided.

Within the community, my father held a prominent position on the village council which oversaw the laws governing farming. He was respected by his peers and our family was prosperous as far as poor farmers were concerned. We did not go hungry often. I brought pride to my family too at the age of ten by enrolling in the local priest’s school to learn how to read and write. All children did not earn such a privilege, as pupils were hand picked based on a brief aptitude test. This was good for my father because if I joined the church, I would not become a farmer, leaving my older brother Adalbert as the sole inheritor of our lands. Not until He arrived did our lives take a dark turn, when we were dragged unwillingly into the meddling of the next world.

Strange things began to happen on the eve of our first harvest of that year. Father remained awake much later in the night than usual to sharpen his tools by the central fire in our one-room house. I remember feeling safe and snug in my straw bed beside my brother along the far wall while the fire dwindled. As my eyes closed and my mind wandered into the realm of sleep, we heard a loud knock at the door. It awoke everyone. Father stood with a scythe in his hand, concerned who might have arrived at our door. Villagers seldom ventured outdoors at night. There were too many dangers, such as bandits and wolves. Living so close to the forest meant any number of things roamed our fields at night. Our minds wandered; our hearts raced.

“Who goes there?” father said.

He was answered by silence. Carefully, he pulled the latch that kept the door locked and pulled open a narrow gap, keeping his foot wedged against the bottom in case of trouble. In the darkness, he saw nothing. He closed the door and latched it. Relieved, he sat by the fire to continue sharpening his tools. He looked at me in the corner and saw the flames of the fire reflect off of my eyes.

“It was nothing. A bird must have struck the wall. Go to sleep,” he said.

I tried. I closed my eyes and prayed for my mind to wander into the world of sleep again, but the fear from the sound had invigorated me. My heart raced still. Beside me, my brother began to snore. I hated him for how easily he fell asleep. His snoring had kept me awake many a night. The fire continued to dwindle as my father remained awake at its side. Suddenly, we heard another knock. Across the room against the opposite wall, my mother sat up in her bed, struggling to raise herself with her hands to prop up her swollen belly. She was with child and ready to give birth at any moment.

“What is it?” she asked my father.

He said nothing as he approached the door, unlatched it, and looked outside. There was no moon that night, so he peered into utter darkness. I saw him kneel to the ground and reach his hand outside. As he pulled in his hand, he examined a smooth river rock, which was out of place in our village. The Rhine River was an hour’s walk away along the main road, and the rock could not have landed at our door on its own. Terrified, my father slammed the door shut and latched it. He sat beside the fire, gripped his scythe and knife, and stared at  the door. An eerie silence enveloped us. Even the crickets had ceased their chirping.

Another knock rang out, and we all jumped. Father stood to his feet, visibly stressed and anticipating the worst. I sat in my bed along with my brother, and we held each other in fear. Mother waddled her way to the fire and pulled from it a hot iron. Both my parents stood before the door, ready to confront whoever it was who was throwing rocks at our house. Finally my father’s patience waned. He dashed to a corner of the house to dig through a pile of items from which he drew a long wooden shaft with a tightly wrapped cloth on the end. It was the torch he had bought from the priest a few weeks past, which he was saving for exactly this kind of situation.

“All of you stay here,” he said.

He lit his torch and ventured into the village. We listened. At first there was nothing, but then we heard shouting. I recognized the voice. Our neighbor Gunther had also left his house. A third voice echoed out. Another neighbor came out from his house and then another. After a brief time it seemed the whole village had left their houses in the middle of the night.

“Which one of you is throwing rocks at my house?” yelled one man.

“My house too,” said Father.

“And mine!” another said angrily.

They bickered, blaming one villager or another for this outrageous disturbance on the eve of harvest. Some shouted far fetched conspiracies about others trying to steal their harvest, while others blamed someone’s unruly children for tormenting upstanding villagers. Even the priest joined in the fray. He had only joined the shouting match to broker peace, not yell about a disturbance.

“I found these river rocks at my door!” Father shouted.

“So did I!” another man said.

I looked out the door myself to see the commotion. My father stood at the center of a crowd, the only man with a torch. He would be angry in the morning for allowing such an expensive commodity to burn down for what increasingly seemed to be a false alarm, but his torch allowed the villagers to at least meet and discuss what had happened. They continued to blame one another for the disturbance, emotions running high and fear running rampant.

“It was your children, Theudman,” Gunther said, accusing my father. “A thirteen and a ten year old—they are the only boys in the village capable of this kind of mischief!”

“My children were at home with me,” Father said. “They are not to blame.”

“Then who?” asked another man.

“There is nothing to fear,” said the priest. “These disturbances must be related. Perhaps it was a flock of birds carrying stones for their nests.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing!” a villager said at the suggestion.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Father caught a glimpse of a shadow running from the village into the fields. “There!” he said. The villagers all turned in the specter’s direction. “Get him!” They all dashed toward the church with Father at the front of them carrying his torch. They chased the shadow to the edge of the village where it disappeared.

“I saw him!” Gunther said.

“So did I,” said another villager.

“We all saw him running for the forest,” said another.

“Bandits?” Gunther asked out of breath.

“I doubt it,” Father said. “Young men from Ingleheim I would guess, trying to get a rise out of us.”

“Little bastards!” Gunther said.

“I will travel to Ingleheim tomorrow and report this incident. I will get to the bottom of this,” the priest said. “For now, I suggest we return to our houses. The harvest begins tomorrow; you all need your strength.”

~

A few days after the first incident, the priest was still away in Ingleheim investigating the disturbance. I fell asleep early, exhausted after a hard day in the fields. In the dead of night as I slept, I jolted awake with a sudden terror. Coals still burned in our fire from a log my father had left, leaving the room in a dim red glow. I saw a figure standing over the fire, thinking at first it was my father, except this figure stood too tall and wore a long black cloak which obscured his face. As I stared, the figure turned to face me, and a chill ran down my spine. My heart pounded in my chest. I could not see a face—only blackness. Our bed began to shake as He stared at me, causing me to freeze with fear. Suddenly, He turned again and exited the house through the front door, stirring up the embers of the fire which swirled toward our thatched roof. Spurred by the draft, the embers set fire to the roof.

Smoke quickly filled the room, alerting my parents to the fire. They jumped from their bed, grasped my brother and me, and rushed the family out of the house. The fire consumed the structure, lighting up the village as though it were day. Other villagers left their homes to watch the fire, and some sprang to action to fetch water in buckets from the village well to protect the other houses. Gunther stood at my father’s side as they watched it burn.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “It rained today. The thatch should have been wet. How could it burn so?”

Father said nothing. He simply watched in grief. My brother and I stood by our mother in tears over watching all our worldly possessions vanish in the flames. I kept what I saw to myself, fearful of what the adults might say. Perhaps it was a dream, and perhaps the fire was just a coincidence. That did not stop the other villagers from whispering with suspicion. Everything happened for a reason. God controlled everything. This misfortune, we heard in their whispers, was our own doing.

“Come,” said Gunther as the flames subsided. “Stay in my house tonight.”

The following day we took to the fields. Our house may have burned to the ground, but the harvest was far more important—our food was more important. During the day, while our family toiled in our field, a mob of villagers assembled on the edge of our plot. They marched across our field shouting and screaming, their anger apparent and directed at my father. Gunther led the charge.

“Theudman!” he said. My father stood tall to face him. He was a great deal taller than our neighbor. “Theudman, you are cursed!”

“Explain yourself,” Father said.

“My house burned to the ground today. Fortunately no one was home. But it is the second house in less than a day to burn—and with a wet roof!”

We all wondered why there had been a smoke column rising from the village. “I am as much at a loss as you,” Father said.

“We have convened a council, Theudman. We have decided to banish you and your family from the village,” Gunther said.

“On what grounds?” Father asked angrily.

“God has sent a clear message. There is a sickness in this village—a sinner in hiding. He is punishing us for those sins,” Gunther said.

“I have no sin, no more than any other man here!” Father said.

“We have made our decision. If you return to the village, we shall be forced to execute you. It is God’s will.”

The mob left as quickly as they had arrived. We stood together as a family and watched them leave in their fury. A feeling of helplessness overcame us for we had committed no crime, yet we had been banished to our field with no roof over our heads. Worse, we would sleep on the edge of the forest that night, exposed to the elements, not least the wolves. Despite our misfortune, we worked the field the rest of the day in silence. To protect our yield, we gathered our wheat in batches near the edge of the forest. Father built a fire, and with the little we had, we made a small camp under a large oak tree for protection. We were lucky. The weather was fair and did not appear to be worsening. But the cold would prove difficult. My mother and my brother and I huddled together for warmth while Father stood watch over us.

“In the morning, I will speak with our priest. He should be back by now. I will tell him of our innocence.

In the dead of night, Father began to drift to sleep. As he hunched over and fell toward the ground, the smell of smoke reached his nostrils. The smell jolted him awake. He looked toward our batches of wheat and saw a shadowy figure standing in the flickering firelight. The wheat caught fire, the flames spurred by a northerly breeze. Father jumped to his feet and attempted to put out the flames, but the fire had taken hold. The commotion he made woke the rest of the family. Visibly terrified, he urged us to hide in the woods. His hands trembled feverishly.

“What is it?” Mother asked.

“I saw something,” he said. “I cannot explain it.”

Sleepy-eyed and dazed from being awakened so suddenly, I said, “you mean the Shadow?”

My father’s eyes opened wide, the fire reflecting off of his irises. He knelt at my side. “You have seen it?” he asked.

I froze in fear. To be honest, I do not know if I feared Him or my father more in this moment, but I nodded. Father stood again and looked to my mother with deep concern. They stared together at the fire, which had gained a completely new meaning after what Father had witnessed. As they looked on helplessly, my brother abruptly fell to the ground. He shook wildly and foamed at the mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Father dropped to his knees and held him, fear again taking hold of the family. This was not unusual for my brother; he had had episodes before. Father simply made sure he did not swallow his own tongue.

In that moment, I thought Gunther was right; we were cursed as a family.

~

The following day, Father returned to the village despite the warning from the mob. He walked bravely through the scattering of farm houses and made directly for the church. Luckily the priest had returned as he had hoped. To the side of the unfinished stone structure stood a wooden house where the priest lived as he awaited the completion of his church. Father approached him as he left his house, causing the priest to stand aback in surprise.

“Ah, Theudman. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.

“I am innocent of the sin you accuse me of,” Father said.

The priest smiled uncomfortably, as though he were afraid. “Of course. But how do you propose to demonstrate your innocence? The village has ample proof of your guilt.”

“You are the priest; you tell me,” Father said.

The priest pondered the request a moment. He fixed his robe and looked to Father’s left and right for other villagers. “Have you heard of the ordeal of hot iron?” he asked. Father nodded. “Seems a shame to burn your hands during the harvest, but should God intervene on your behalf, it would prove your innocence.”

Father agreed to the trial. By midday the village had assembled in front of the blacksmith’s workshop to watch my father undergo the ordeal. Our family was allowed in the village for this occasion, but we prepared for a quick escape in the event he failed. Before the crowd, my father presented himself in nothing but a loin cloth. His skin had been cleansed with holy water and his hair had been combed. He walked silently through a booing crowd, but they were forbidden from throwing stones at him during the ordeal. One woman threw her stone anyway and was promptly removed. At the blacksmith’s workshop, an open-air, repurposed stable with a flat wooden roof, my father held his hands forward to accept the ordeal. The blacksmith waited for the priest to address the crowd.

“People of Bingen! Before you stands the accused whose recent woes are evidence of a conflict with God. He has accepted the ordeal of hot iron to prove to you his innocence. Allow me to explain how the ordeal works. The iron will burn his hands. I shall examine the wounds in three days, and if they have not festered, he shall be declared innocent.” The priest turned to Father. “You must hold the iron until I say you may drop it.”

The priest gave a nod to the blacksmith who pulled a glowing red iron from the coals with his clamps and carefully hovered it over Father’s hands. Slowly, he lowered the iron. As it neared Father’s bare skin, we heard a sizzle followed by a putrid smoke as it burned his flesh. To my surprise, he did not scream. He held the iron steadily, his jaw clenched from the pain. I could see his chest expanding and collapsing as he breathed to ease the agony. My brother buried his head in our mother’s bosom, unable to watch the ordeal. It felt as though an eternity had passed, filled with the disturbing sound of a sizzle. Finally the priest allowed my father to release the iron. He dropped it to the floor and held his hands in the air. They curled with pain. The priest immediately wrapped the wounds and walked my father back to his own house. The crowd moaned with disappointment because they had thought they would stone him, but the priest deprived them of such a chance. I remember thinking how awful it was that these people whom we had known as our own neighbors could be so ready to murder my father for something he did not do. They needed someone to blame.

Our family and the priest returned to the priest’s house. Once arrived, my father soaked his hands in a wooden bowl full of cool water. The priest sat at his side, concerned over his fate. Nothing could have prepared him for the revelation that my father was about to give him. He fixed his robes, sat up in his creaky chair, and leaned his elbow on the table.

“If your hands fester or do not heal, I cannot help you,” he said sternly.

“They will heal. I have faith,” Father said.

“You are confident; that is good,” the priest said.

“I have seen what plagues us,” Father said. The priest appeared surprised. “I have seen him, this shadowy figure. My youngest son Childeric has also seen him.”

The priest rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes wandered in thought. “Describe him for me,” he said.

“A black cloak, a sturdy build. I saw no face,” Father said.

“And your son? He saw a face?”

“Childeric?” Father asked looking at me.

I shook my head. “No, no face.”

“I must meditate over this,” the priest said. “Please, rest.”

Three days passed without incident during which time our family lived at the priest’s house. Father surmised that the Shadow had stayed clear for the priest had erected holy totems to protect the building. On the morning of the third day, the priest examined Father’s wounds. They had not festered and had even begun to heal. Amazed, the priest declared that God had exercised a divine intervention, clearing my father of guilt. His proclamation offered relief to our family, as well as the priest. The priest sent me door to door to call for an assembly of the villagers at once. Most were not home but were toiling in the fields. I ran and ran to spread the word, often finding the villagers surprised to hear that my father had been healed. Some time later most of the villagers had assembled before the priest’s house to await his judgement.

“People of Bingen,” he said gleefully. “I declare this man innocent of sin. God has shown his mercy!”

“Why then all the ills in our village?” Gunther asked. “Why do we suffer so if not for this man’s sin?”

A gloom came over the priest. “I believe there are darker forces at work here—forces from beyond that have, for some reason, crossed over into our world.” His statement caused a panicked murmur among the villagers. He continued. “I will travel to Mainz to solicit the help of our bishop. I believe he may have the tools to combat this evil.”

~

The harvest ended and our house was nearly rebuilt when the priest returned with a procession of clerics behind him. One among them, the bishop I surmised, rode an ass into the village. He wore a preposterously tall hat and a white gown which was soiled at the bottom. With his congregation of robed priests, they toured the village, splashing holy water on houses and swaying a smoking thurible. They eventually made their way to the fields below the forest and examined the surrounding land. A mob of villagers followed them, curious to see what they might find. Since the harvest had ended, farmers had more time on their hands to spare.

The procession returned to the village to hold a meeting. Everyone attended this meeting, because it was not every day we had the opportunity to see a bishop. They began interrogating witnesses. The first was my father. As he described what he had seen in the fields, I felt a rush of terror at the realization that I would be next. I had seen the shadow too. As I had anticipated, my father called me forward before the entire village. I panicked.

“It is all right, boy. You are safe among us,” the bishop said. I remained silent. “Your father tells us you have seen this ‘shadow.’ Would you tell us where and describe what you saw?”

I drew in a deep breath. “I saw Him,” I said.

“Continue,” said the bishop.

“A black cloak—He had no face. He looked at me, and there was only darkness,” I said. I began to cry. “He set fire to our house and ran out the door!”

“Did it walk or glide?” a priest interjected.

“He glided, I think.”

The priests erupted in nervous chatter behind the bishop. Their faces told me that what I had said troubled them deeply. They avoided eye contact with me when they could, keeping to themselves behind their master. The bishop rubbed his cleanly shaven chin in thought. He said nothing at first, but anxiety among the villagers began to spiral out of control. His first duty was to maintain order.

“There is an evil presence here,” he said. “But none which we are not equipped to handle. Remain in your houses tonight. No matter what you hear, I beg you to remain in your houses.”

The village dispersed to return to their chores. Few hours remained in the day, creating a sense of urgency among the townsfolk. Father gathered our family and we returned to our house where mother put a pot of water over a fire. She threw in a mixture of vegetables, some grain, and a few pinches of herbs to help the taste of the potage. We ate potage most nights, except when Father returned from trade in Ingleheim where he bought cuts of meat to bring home for us. Peasants like us rarely ate meat. It was too risky to hunt in the forest, and it was also illegal. Gunther had owned a cow once, and when it died he sold some of the meat, but it was tough and lean. Father said the beast had died of hunger.

By nightfall, no villagers roamed outside their houses. Our new house, which still needed some work on the outside wall, was built with a new addition we did not have before—a window. From there I could see the center of the village, but just barely. It was a tiny aperture, mostly meant to allow in light during the day. I stood on my tiptoes atop a wooden stool to reach the window. My mother objected at first, but my father, also spurred by curiosity, joined me. We watched as the priests gathered in the dark with candles and torches, all wearing red robes this time rather than the brown habits they had worn earlier in the day. Two of them carried a chest from which they drew various religious tokens, including a wooden cross, a silver scepter, and a large, leather-bound book.

The bishop held the book open before him and began to read from it. I did not know Latin then, so I cannot recite what I heard. The words at first were repetitive. The bishop read the same sentence several times before moving on to the next one. Several other priests walked along the houses swinging smoking thuribles. Everything appeared to follow a well-prescribed sequence which unfolded uneventfully. That is, of course, until He began to feel threatened.

As the bishop read a particularly tricky passage aloud, a rock flew out from the darkness and struck him on the shoulder. He paused. The other monks looked at him to see why he had ceased reading. With a more nervous, quickened cadence, the bishop began to read again. Not two sentences later, a rock struck him in the chin. Blood dripped onto the pages of his book. Shocked, he turned around and dashed for the chest. One priest took the book from the bishop and continued to read aloud while another priest handed him a wooden cross. He made a cross with a trembling left hand, and then turned toward the darkness from which the rocks had flown. To our surprise, it appeared as though he had turned toward us.

Father pulled me from my perch and sat me in front of the smoldering fire. Mother remained terrified in her bed with her wool blanket pulled over her raised knees and gripped between her fingers. We listened as the bishop walked paces away from our house, followed eerily by the Latin recitation from his book. From the other side, another sound began. This sound was petrifying, like no animal we had ever heard. Whatever it was produced a low, grumbling growl. It grew louder as the clerics drew closer. Louder and louder, the growl soon filled our ears and filled our hearts with terror. My mother began to weep.

We heard the bishop yell in Latin, possibly to ward Him off. Instead, it seemed to have made matters worse. Loud scratches against the wall jumped from place to place. Our home was under attack. Growling and scratching, He was determined to frighten the priests. The bishop yelled more and we heard a struggle followed by a scream. Terrified, my brother could take no more. He panicked. With blinding speed, he dashed for the door to escape and managed to sneak through before Father could stop him. He ran for the courtyard where the priests had assembled. As he joined them, his malady seized him, causing him to fall to the ground, shake, and foam at the mouth. The priests immediately took notice.

“Stop!” yelled the bishop who ran from the other side of the house. “The beast has taken this child!”

Father ran out. “No!” he cried. “My son is sick but not possessed!”

Before he could reach my brother, the bishop lifted his wooden cross and drove its bottom end like a stake into my brother’s heart. Father screamed in horror. I stood at our door, too petrified to move. He had tricked the priests. They had fallen into His hand. My brother’s shaking stopped, and the foam on his lips faded. What happened next was burned into my memory, for He had finally been given the chance to take control.

The body that had once belonged to my brother arose, the wooden cross still protruding from his chest. He did not walk as a person would, but rather danced in the air as would a puppet under its master’s strings. The priests surrounded him. Father stood back believing his eyes to have betrayed him. Remembering that I had followed him out, he turned back, ran to me, and carried me back into our house and slammed the door shut. He took an old cross and placed it at the door and huddled with my mother and me in their bed. Outside our house, it sounded as though the priests were fighting an enraged bear. One of them continued to recite from the book as others screamed in pain. The forces of good and evil clashed that night. We did not leave our house again.

~

In the morning, Father had packed all our belongings into a few small satchels. He had carried our tools out to our cart and commandeered the bishop’s ass to pull it. Before leaving the house, he asked that my mother and I not look toward the center of the village. He asked that we wear sacks on our heads, so we would not be tempted. Slowly, he led us from our house toward the cart. Through the loosely woven fibers I could see shapes, but no detail. I tried to look toward where my brother had fallen but to no avail. All I could see was dirt upon the ground. I made a last attempt to see what had happened by patting down the sack on my face. I wish I had not done so. On the ground I could see the curled body of a priest, his skin discolored in shades of blue and purple. Father pushed me along.

Our family walked from the village along the main road toward Ingleheim. We left the village, never to return. That year we relocated to Ingleheim where my father took a job as a laborer for the local lord. Deprived of our land, we were destitute, but I was recruited into the church to be groomed as a priest for which my parents were well compensated. I learned to read and write, not in the least so that I might one day recount this tale. I have never returned to the village, but I heard from travelers that He continued to plague the village for three years thereafter. One day He simply left, presumably to find a new village to torment. I have always wondered, whose village will be next?

About the author:

C.J. Adrien, a French-American author with a passion for Viking history, developed his love for history at the Chateau de Noirmoutier, a site renowned for its influence by Scandinavian raiders. His debut novel, The Line of His People, was inspired by research he conducted in preparation for a doctoral program in early medieval history as well as his admiration for historical fiction writers such as Bernard Cornwell and Ken Follett.

Follow him on Facebook at facebook.com/cjadrien

Follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/christopheadri1

Add him on Goodreads at https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7546704.C_J_Adrien

See his other works:

The Line of His People (Kindred of the Sea Book I)

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EWP4OYW

The Oath of the Father (Kindred of the Sea Book II)

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00QO4J750

How Did the Viking Seafaring Tradition Develop?

Ask any schoolchildren today what they first think of when you say the word ‘Viking’ and you will find that the overwhelming majority will think first of their ships (or, woefully, their horns, but that’s a wholly different problem). Indeed, the most indelible mark the Vikings have left on the world is the awe and wonder associated with their powerful and advanced seafaring tradition. The origins of this tradition stem back further than one might expect, and it didn’t begin with the Scandinavians. Instead, it appears seamanship and the various technologies that led to the infamous Drakkar were the product of cross-regional contact between several Baltic populations who, over time, parted ways to create the political and geographic distribution that existed at the beginning of the Viking Age.

As far as historians can tell, the first recorded exodus from the Baltic region by way of seafaring was done by the Franks. As the Roman Empire consolidated in the 4th Century, their withdrawal from the British Isles was plagued by raids along the Armorican coast carried out by a seafaring Germanic tribe, the Franks. Yes, these are the same Franks who would later dominate the geo-political landscape of Europe in the 9th and 10th Centuries, but with Rome still in control, they had yet to make any considerable incursions into France. Their only solution was to strike at sea where they had an advantage—an advantage which stemmed from a shared seafaring tradition among the Baltic tribes who had long established trade routes by way of sea.

Rome withdrew further and eventually collapsed, a series of events which allowed the Franks, among others, to fill the vacuum of power. As the Franks withdrew from the Baltic to populate lands further south, they abandoned their seafaring traditions, leaving yet another power vacuum in the north. As Clovis was being baptized, a new civilization was emerging in Scandinavia, one which relied heavily on seafaring for trade and warfare, which they had learned from their predecessors. For three hundred years thereafter they honed their craft and improved their technology, culminating in the creation of their infamous ships. How exactly they developed their tools and techniques is still mostly unknown, although there are some impassioned scholars who have recreated them over the years, each with a slightly different idea.

Thus in retrospect, it is no real surprise that a powerful seafaring population emerged in the Baltic states considering the long, shared tradition that had existed there. It is also not difficult to imagine that part of the genius behind the Drakkar’s design was the fact that these populations moved around frequently and had experienced travel by sea and river, inspiring them to create ship designs that were both seaworthy and adaptable to river travel. This last point is of course pure speculation, but the possibility is there. The fact remains, the Baltic region had, for several centuries, begun to develop a seafaring tradition that created the conditions required to develop the most advanced seafaring technology in Europe at the time.

Check out my Viking novels for young adults!

Author Hiatus

Dear readers,

I will be on hiatus for a few weeks because, although I enjoy writing about Viking history and interacting with readers, I need to concentrate on my writing. My third novel is in need of some focused attention and I am finding that my blog and social media activities are a distraction.

I will still be reading comments, and perhaps even respond to them. But as far as providing the steady stream of content you have come to expect, I will be taking a step back to focus on the real work that needs to be done: writing.

Thank you all for your support,

C.J. Adrien

3 Must-Do’s for Aspiring Writers of Historical Fiction

1. Create a timeline of dates.

Historical fiction is more rigid than other fiction genres because there is the expectation by readers that some (if not most) elements in the story will have been based on true events. The closer to actual history you are the better. That is why it is important for authors of historical fiction to create a timeline of the history behind their story first. Add the fictional elements of the story later. Failure to create a timeline may lead to an incoherent story with holes in both the history and the narrative.

2. When it comes to names, simpler is better.

The English language as it is today is not all that old. Considering this, many historical fiction novels will inevitably be written about people who spoke a different language. This can lead to a plethora of complicated, non-anglophone names that may be challenging to readers to remember. This is why when assigning names to fictional characters it is advisable to chose names that are both easy to pronounce and to remember. Historical characters are of course the exception here, and their names cannot (or should not) be altered. For example, in my second novel my protagonist encounters an Irishman by the name of Muiredach Mac Ruadrach. It’s not a name that exactly rolls off of the tongue. His name I cannot change because he was a real person. What I am able to control are the names of my characters, such as Kenna, which is both an old Norse name and, luckily, a modern name used in Anglophone countries and therefore easy to remember.

3. Find your world-building balance.

World-building is something you hear often in science fiction and fantasy circles. But historical fiction similarly requires a great deal of setting development to help transport readers to the time period of your writing. This begs the question: how much time should I devote to world-building? The answer depends on the intended audience. For example, an author the likes of Bernard Cornwell will spend ample time and space describing some of the more intricate details of his setting. On the other hand, if one is writing for a Young Adult audience, the world-building may need less depth so as to not bore readers. It is important that you consider your audience when developing your world-building. You would never expect J.K. Rowling to droll on for two pages about the shade of green painted on the wall, whereas you would never expect Bernard Cornwell not to. Find your balance for your audience.

5 Major Factors That Ended the Viking Age

The internet is abound with a multitude of theories on why the Viking Age began. Why it ended is equally as interesting because it was a pivotal segue into the medieval period so romanticized by 19th Century historians. Scandinavian raiders ruled the seas and rivers of Europe for hundreds of years, yet their maritime hegemony did eventually end, although their seafaring technology would not be bested for another long while. Why did the Viking Age end? What led to the demise of their notorious raids? The following are brief summaries of five of the most pivotal themes and events that contributed to the end of the Viking Age. Keep in mind, however, that the end of the Viking Age was the result of a vastly complex interweave of issues and events and therefore this list is neither all-encompassing nor exhaustive.

The Christianization of Scandinavia

Over the course of their three-hundred-year-long reign of terror, a less pronounced force gradually chipped away at the Vikings’ roots. Charlemagne’s Christian empire sought to convert the world to their faith through force of arms, but he stopped short of Denmark and died before launching any significant invasions of it. Spared the constraints of a Frankish occupation, Danish rulers launched some of the most memorable raids of their day. However, they were not a unified people. Frequent civil wars plagued Jutland (the main Danish kingdom of the time) in the early 9th Century and some of the claimants to the throne sought support from their neighbors to help them ascend to power. Harald-Klak, one such claimant from the early 9th Century, allied himself with the Carolingian emperor Louis and even received baptism to show his dedication to the conversion. The Franks in turn sent weapons and supplies to the Danes loyal to Harald. These early conversions for political reasons were not initially considered a serious commitment, but they began a trend wherein they allowed the Christians to begin incursions into Scandinavia.

Later conversions were more aggressive. Missionaries in the 10th Century continued to convert Danes, Norwegians, and Swedes en masse. Certain rulers, such as Harald Bluetooth, made Christianity their official religion and instituted laws requiring their subjects to convert. By 1066, the date used by historians to demarcate the end of the Viking Age, a majority of Scandinavia was Christian.

The Peace and Truce of God

In the 11th Century, the Roman Catholic Church felt that the incessant, bloody wars between the various European kingdoms were a bane on their efforts to spread the true faith. Violence was a real existential problem for them at the time. To abate some of this violence, they instituted two edicts, dubbed The Peace of God and The Truce of God. These edicts banned violence between Christians under threat of excommunication. Both reforms helped to end the Viking Age by formally dissuading an increasingly christianized Scandinavian population from launching raids on fellow Christians. This did not entirely stop the flow of raiding parties, but they gradually diminished as time passed.

The Feudal System

As the feudal system took hold and spread across Europe, the societal structure which had allowed free men to sail to new lands to raid vanished. What were once considered free men became the indentured servants of the new feudal monarchs who depended on their labor to generate income. Where all men were once required to learn how to fight, they were now dissuaded from doing so. As part of a vast move to consolidate power, the monarchs of Scandinavia instituted reforms to convert their subjects into servants, much as their southern European neighbors had done. Putting together a crew to raid a faraway land became less and less feasible.

The Assimilation of Settlers Into New Societies

The Viking Age saw its twilight when the lands they had once raided were settled and defended by their own kin. This occurred in Britain, Ireland, Russia, France, among several others. Normandy is a prime example of how the Vikings assimilated into the culture of the people who had previously owned the land they settled. By 1066, the Normans were francophone (old French) and loyal to the French king. They obeyed the commands of the Pope and answered to the local church. They retained some vestiges of their Viking past and, arguably, those cultural traits later contributed to the political climate in England that led to the Magna Carta. But for all intents and purposes, the men who invaded Britain in 1066 were no longer Danes, they were French.

A Final Blow

One Scandinavian monarch defied the tide of history and continued to raid as his forefathers had done. This last raider, king Harald Hardrada, built a reputation for himself as a formidable warrior and tactician. In 1066 he attacked England as one of the many rival claimants to the English throne. He was killed at the battle of Stamford Bridge by the forces of Harold Godwinson. Thus ended the life of the last infamous Norse raider; thus ended the Viking Age.

Interested in the Vikings? Check out my novels about the Vikings in France:

Why did the Viking Age End?

The internet is abound with a multitude of theories on why the Viking Age began. But why it ended is equally as interesting because it was a pivotal segue into the medieval period so romanticized by 19th Century historians. Scandinavian raiders ruled the seas and rivers of Europe for hundreds of years, yet their maritime hegemony did eventually end, although their seafaring technology would not be bested for another long while. Why did the Viking Age end? What led to the demise of their notorious raids? The following are brief summaries of several of the most important issues to answer this question. Keep in mind, however, that the end of the Viking Age was the result of a vastly complex interweave of issues and events.

The Christianization of Scandinavia

Over the course of their three-hundred-year-long reign of terror, a less pronounced force gradually chipped away at the Vikings’ roots. Charlemagne’s Christian empire sought to convert the world to their faith through force of arms, but he stopped short of Denmark and died before launching any significant invasions of it. Spared the constraints of a Frankish occupation, Danish rulers launched some of the most memorable raids of their day. However, they were not a unified people. Frequent civil wars plagued Jutland (the main Danish kingdom of the time) in the early 9th Century and some of the claimants to the throne sought support from their neighbors to help them ascend to power. Harald-Klak, one such claimant from the early 9th Century, allied himself with the Carolingian emperor Louis and even received baptism to show his dedication to the conversion. The Franks in turn sent weapons and supplies to the Danes loyal to Harald. These early conversions for political reasons were not initially considered a serious commitment, but they began a trend wherein they allowed the Christians to begin incursions into Scandinavia.

Later conversions were more aggressive. Missionaries in the 10th Century continued to convert Danes, Norwegians, and Swedes en masse. Certain rulers, such as Harald Bluetooth, made Christianity their official religion and instituted laws requiring their subjects to convert. By 1066, the date used by historians to demarcate the end of the Viking Age, a majority of Scandinavia was Christian.

The Peace and Truce of God

In the 11th Century, the Roman Catholic Church felt that the incessant, bloody wars between the various European kingdoms were a bane on their efforts to spread the true faith. Violence was a real existential problem for them at the time. To abate some of this violence, they instituted two edicts, dubbed The Peace of God and The Truce of God. These edicts banned violence between Christians under threat of excommunication. Both reforms helped to end the Viking Age by formally dissuading an increasingly christianized Scandinavian population from launching raids on fellow Christians. This did not entirely stop the flow of raiding parties, but they gradually diminished as time passed.

The Feudal System

As the feudal system took hold and spread across Europe, the societal structure which had allowed free men to sail to new lands to raid vanished. What were once considered free men became the indentured servants of the new feudal monarchs who depended on their labor to generate income. Where all men were once required to learn how to fight, they were now dissuaded from doing so. As part of a vast move to consolidate power, the monarchs of Scandinavia instituted reforms to convert their subjects into servants, much as their southern European neighbors had done. Putting together a crew to raid a faraway land became less and less feasible.

The Assimilation of Settlers Into New Societies

The Viking Age saw its twilight when the lands they had once raided were settled and defended by their own kin. This occurred in Britain, Ireland, Russia, France, among several others. Normandy is a prime example of how the Vikings assimilated into the culture of the people who had previously owned the land they settled. By 1066, the Normans were francophone (old French) and loyal to the French king. They obeyed the commands of the Pope and answered to the local church. They retained some vestiges of their Viking past and, arguably, those cultural traits later contributed to the political climate in England that led to the Magna Carta. But for all intents and purposes, the men who invaded Britain in 1066 were no longer Danes, they were French.

A Final Blow

One Scandinavian monarch defied the tide of history and continued to raid as his forefathers had done. This last raider, king Harald Hardrada, built a reputation for himself as a formidable warrior and tactician. In 1066 he attacked England as one of the many rival claimants to the English throne. He was killed at the battle of Stamford Bridge by the forces of Harold Godwinson. Thus ended the life of the last infamous Norse raider; thus ended the Viking Age.

Interested in the Vikings? Check out my novels about the Vikings in France:

Can You Spot the Impostor? Three Truths and One Lie About the Vikings.

Of the four statements below, three are true and one is a lie. Can you spot the lie? (Scroll to the bottom to reveal the answers.)

1. The Vikings Shooed Away Eclipses.

Vikings believed that Ragnarok would come about when the two wolves, Skoll and Hati, devoured the Sun and the Moon. Skoll chased after the Sun and Hati chased the Moon. It was believed that during an eclipse Skoll had caught up with the Sun and the only way the men of Midgard could help was to create as much noise as possible to scare off the wolf.

2. The Viking Diet Changed from Fish to Meats and Breads While in England.

During their conquest of the British Isles, the land armies of the Danes adopted the local delicacies in favor of their traditional diet. In Scandinavia, the primary source of protein for coastal settlements was Herring, whereas in Jorvik (modern day York), they ate more meats and breads acquired from local farms.

3. The Vikings Who Fled to Iceland Were Exiles and Criminals.

The original migration to Iceland consisted of the outcasts of Norse society. The first expedition was even led by a woman who had notoriously slain her husband in the middle of the night in lieu of a divorce. Other Scandinavian kingdoms openly expressed their disdain for the new refuge of societal rejects, but made no effort to stop it.

4. Vikings Traded Black Slaves in Ireland.

During his expedition to the Mediterranean, the warlord Hastein initiated trade with the Moors of North Africa. There they traded various goods, including slaves, with the locals. According to two sources, he later traded these slaves in Ireland before returning to his plundering in the Loire River Valley.

Do you know which one is wrong? Scroll down to see if you’re right!

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#1: True:

In the Poetic Edda, particularly in the Grimnismal, there are instructions on how to ward off Skoll during an eclipse.

#2: True:

A coprolite found in York has revealed that the diet of the men in Jorvik consisted mostly of breads and meats. It also revealed that the man who had deposited it suffered from a bad case of intestinal worms. Read about the coprolite HERE.

#3: False:

The first settlers who travelled to Iceland were not criminals and exiles. Instead, many were communities who were pushed out of their homelands by war, famine, and many to flee the aggressive christianization of Scandinavia.

#4: True:

Hastein accomplished a great many things in his life, including the trading of black slaves to northern kingdoms. Read more about Hasten HERE.

As always, my series titled Kindred of the Sea is available for purchase on Kindle. Click the cover below to shop now!

Three Norse Customs that Christianity Killed.

When Christianity spread across Scandinavia during the Viking Age, it changed many  Norse cultural norms. The following are three of the most notable changes that took place as a result of their Christianization.

1. Grooming.

Reindeer Antler Comb from Ribe, circa 8th Century

Prior to converting to Christianity, Norse culture valued good grooming habits. We know this from several sources, including both Christian and Muslim texts, as well as archeological finds of combs, washbowls, and saunas. Christianity, however, viewed Norse grooming habits as signs of vanity. In Christendom, it was required of some people, especially clerics, to never bathe. In fact, monks actually thought the dirtier they were, the holier they were because they were rejecting vanity. As Christianity spread across Scandinavia, the Scandinavian people joined the rest of Christendom in their smelliness. Read more about Norse grooming.

2. Religious Tolerance.

The baptism of Harald-Klak of Denmark.

History has shown time and again that polytheistic religions tend to be more tolerant of other faiths. Norse paganism was no different. Their tolerance for other belief systems may have contributed to their Christianization as they may not have seen Christianity as a threat. Christ would have just been another deity among the many in the world to them. Christianity tends to be intolerant of other religions as all the Abrahamic religions are. And once Christianized, the once tolerant Norse people became as intolerant of other religions as the rest of Christendom. Read about the Norse culture of learning.

3. Separation of Church and State.

Charlemagne overseeing the massacre of the Saxons on the Elbe.

Prior to Christianization, Norse culture did not separate religion from politics. Religious festivals and observances were the duty of the Jarl or Chieftain of the community to organize and carry out, sometimes aided by other religious figures (with the temple at Uppsala as the main exception). Christianity put an end to this tradition and passed the duty of religious observance to clerics and the Church rather than to the leader of the community. This change took power away from local leaders and gave more power to the church. The separation of church and state was originally devised to consolidate power within the church because most governments were unreliable and changed leadership frequently. Not until much later in the medieval period would more powerful, stable monarchs begin to take a more active role in the church, eventually becoming figureheads associated with divinity.

Interested in the Vikings? You will love my novels! Buy my first in series below:

What Is the Danevirke?

Anyone interested in the Viking Age should know about this hugely important edifice which has over the centuries served as both a physical border and an ideological one. The Danevirke is a series of ditches and fortifications along the southern border of the Danish peninsula, effectively separating it from the rest of the continent. Archeological research estimates the first sections of the Danevirke as having been build as early as the sixth century. Current scholarship theorizes that such fortifications were encouraged by constant conflict between the inhabitants of the peninsula and their southern germanic neighbors. In fact, this conflict is thought to have led to the exodus of Angles, Saxons, and Jutes to Britain. This first construct has more recently been identified as a possible shipping channel between the Baltic and the North Sea rather than a fortification (to read about the new discoveries, CLICK HERE).

Later evidence of further fortification begins in the early 9th century in the Royal Frankish Annals in which the Danish king Gudfred is said to have rebuilt the Danevirke to repel Frankish invasion. Archeological finds place more extensive construction in the time of Harald Bluetooth, and scholars disagree over which monarch was most responsible for the expansion of the more extensive fortifications that earned the Danevirke its later reputation as a symbol of the separation between the Danes and their southern Germanic neighbors.

During the Viking Age, the Danevirka was an important construct for the Danes of Jutland who felt the very real threat of invasion by the Frankish Empire. Although Charlemagne never materialized a full scale invasion, his son Louis the Pious sent frequent bellicose incursions toward Jutland, but never launched a frontal assault on the Danevirka. Luckily for the Danes, after the death of Charlemagne the Frankish Empire was plunged into repeated civil wars, taking the pressure off of their border and allowing them to begin their own foreign exploits in Normandy, Britain, and Brittany. In more simple terms, the Danevirke prevented the invasion of Jutland by the Franks and allowed the Viking Age to have actually happened.

Further reading:

McKitterick, R. (2008). Charlemagne. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Scholz, B. (1972). Carolingian chronicles: Royal Frankish annals and Nithard’s Histories. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.

The Danevirke is mentioned in my historical fiction series about the Vikings. CLICK HERE to read it.