The single steeple of the old Lutheran church at the bottom of the hill loomed behind Bente Larsen and her mother as they walked hand-in-hand across the frozen sheet of snow.
The church had been standing in that very spot for over one thousand years. It had been constructed entirely of cordwood pine from the surrounding forest. Builders carved each piece of wood with hand tools and carefully put them into place. Not a single nail had even been used to hold the entire church together. It was one of the few lasting testaments to the carpentry skill of the ancient Norsemen.
Bente exhaled breaths of hot air as she stomped up the footpath. The ground crackled beneath their feet as each footstep broke through the icy shell, each foot disappearing and reappearing again.
There were few things Bente loved more than winter. One of those, however, was walking home from church with her mother on Saturday nights.
Bente and her mother were not alone. Other shapes and shadows crossed through the icy snow leading from the church. Some were headed for their cars, while others walked home, just like Bente and her mother.
They hiked the same pine-covered grove through which they traveled earlier that night. The needle-laden trees shaded the narrow wilderness path leading up and over the hill. A few streams of moonlight managed to light the ground and guide their way.
The solemn moonlight made Bente think.
“Mamma?”
“Ja?”
“Hvorfor kaller de det Lørdag?”
…Why did Norwegians call it Lørdag? Unlike many of her friends from the Internet who lived across Europe and the Americas, the Norwegians did not call this day Saturday, but Lørdag instead.
Her mother explained it easily. Lør-dag was bath-day.
“But I don’t always bathe on Lørdag and my friend from Spain calls it ‘Sabado’”
“Just like modern-day Norwegians, the Vikings considered Lørdag as the day to clean up at the end of a long week. It’s the same thing for Spanish. Sabado is the Sabbath-day, a day of rest.
Only the North Sea separates the Norwegians from the English or the Germans. The ancient Norwegians sailed between these lands. They shared many things with the Germans and English. Among them was their language.
The English call tomorrow Sunday. The Germans call it Sonntag. The Norwegians call it Søndag. Do you see?”
Bente nodded.
“Søndag means Sun-day. Mandag means Moon-day. Tirsdag means Tues-day.”
“Tirsdag? What does that stand for?”
“You know that. Tirsday, Onsdag, and Thorsdag…those days are named for the Gods. Teiwaz is the Norse God of war. Wodanaz, also known as ‘Odin’, is the ruler of Asgard, the heavens to the ancient Norwegians. Of course, you know all about Thor.”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Bente, “What about Fredag? What about Frøya’s-day?”
Fredag meant Friday. It also meant the end of the school-week and Bente’s day of rest. It was also her favorite because she loved Frøya, the ancient Norwegian goddess of love and beauty.
“It’s not that simple, Bente.”
“What do you mean?”
“History scholars don’t agree on the origins of Friday or Frøya. According to some scholars, the word Fredag could’ve come from one of many places. It could be Frigg. It could be Frøya. Some even call her Freyja.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I think the difference may be very subtle. You know the Brothers Grimm, right?”
“The German storytellers?”
Mrs. Larsen nodded. “They spent much of their time studying folk tales and myths, like those of the ancient Norwegians. Jacob Grimm said ‘Fria was related to the goddess-word Frigg, which meant free and beautiful while Freyja was something different, meaning sweet and lovely.’”
“It sounds just the same. Why can’t scholars just agree?”
“Historians don’t just make a best guess. They need proof. They use sources. Ancient Norwegians, even before the Vikings, used oral tradition to pass stories from one generation to the next. These stories were told by the light of a roaring bonfire, at the end of a long journey.”
“What kind of journeys?”
“All kinds of journeys. Maybe they went fishing. Maybe they went on Viking raids. Maybe they just went for a weekend cruise. They shared stories to educate and entertain their friends and family. There is no knowing what really happened because historians cannot find a written record. They only have the oral tradition.”
“How did the ancient Vikings even know what day it was?”
“There is one thing…”
“Yes?”
“The historians did come across the Rune Staff.”
“I’ve seen Rune Staves at the museum. They’re like walking sticks”
“The Rune Staff was much more than that. It was a large stick that was carved with an ancient alphabet script called Runic. This script noted when the sun and moon would rise and set.
The sun and moon were almost always in the skies over the Vikings, watching over them. The knew the moon revolved around the earth once every twenty-eight days. They called this a ‘måned’. They also observed the Earth orbit around the sun. They knew it took about 365 days. The Norse called it an ‘ar.’”
“But my teacher says ancient astronomers thought the sun revolved around the earth.”
“Ancient middle European astronomers may have thought that, but the Vikings knew about the magic number 19. It’s proven by looking at their Rune Staff.”
“Why nineteen?”
“It’s the number of years when the 28-day cycle of the moon and the 365-day cycle of the sun match up. The ancient Norwegians also observed the different orbits of the stars. Because of all this, they knew the sun was the center of the their galaxy, not the Earth.”
“How?”
“One reason was because the Earth wobbles.”
“What?!?!”
“The Earth has an axis on which it spins, right?”
Bente nodded.
“The ancient Norse noticed that the stars did not always rise or fall on the same places of the horizon. They documented that wobble on their Rune Staves and in their folk tales, too. The wobble is mentioned in the “Prose Edda”, a collection of myths and fables. As the Earth wobbled, the sun seemed to rise in different places in the sky. Each of these positions had a different effect on the Earth, creating volcanoes and earthquakes and other things like that.”
“They knew all that?”
“They certainly did. It is one of the two reasons the Norwegians have a long and proud sailing heritage.”
“What’s the other?”
As Bente reached the top of the tiny hill, her mother pointed down towards Bergen’s bay. Rows of houses faced the bay and the cluster of ships huddled near the docks.
“The ships.”
“Of course,” nodded Bente.
Bente released her hand from her mother’s grip as she headed toward the house. It sat near the top of the tiny hill facing the bay. The shipping heritage was something she had known all her life, just like every good Norwegian from Bergen.
Like many Saturday nights, Mr. Larsen was waiting at home, watching Bergen futbol club. As Bente came home, he poured a glass of milk for everyone and also served her a piece of krumkake. The milk was mildly sweet and icy cold. The krumkake looked like a narrow waffle cone, lightly dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar.
“Can I have a bite?” asked Mr. Larsen.
Bente broke off a piece and handed it to her father. After they enjoyed their late night dessert, Bente changed into her pajamas and headed for bed.
“God natt,” said Mrs. Larsen.
“God natt, mamma.”
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