The week passed by, much to Bente and her classmate’s surprise, all too fast. Bente thought it was amazing, since Mr. Hagen had spent the entire week talking about Barbarians and drawing on his plastic map overlay. His lectures on the Migration Period – where different nomadic tribes traveled throughout Europe, including Scandinavia – included color-coded arrows running all over Europe.
By the time Friday came, Mr. Hagen turned his attention to the Vikings.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is time to go to the Faroe Islands and then on to Vinland.”
As Mr. Hagen unreeled the projector screen from the hanger over the chalkboard, the class perked up. Many of them knew they’d be talking about Scandinavian longboats again.
“Are we going to talk about Erik the Red?”
“All in good time, Bente. We have other boats to sail first.”
Mr. Hagen moved the slide projector into place and motioned for a student to turn off the lights. He flipped a switch and the projector threw a pcitre of an old Viking ship on the screen. The children cheered.
“During the time of the Migration period, the Vandals and Goths and other tribal nomads of Europe were fighting against the Roman Empire. Like all people, they simply wanted a suitable place to live. Of course, that included the Norsemen.”
Mr. Hagen clicked the slide projector. The portrait of a horn-helmed Viking posed proudly, his hair and beard covered his neck and shoulders. His twin ponytails were braided and adorned with leather straps and jeweled beads. His bronze breastplate gleamed brightly as it hung over his war dress. He held his sword and shield at his side.
“Who knows who this is?”
The classroom was silent.
“It’s supposed to be Naddoddr, the great-grandfather of the Vinland.”
“What do you mean, supposed to be? It looks like an ancient Viking,” said a student.
Mr. Hagen clicked the slide projector. A pencil sketch showed a statue, clad in only wool and cotton long dress, covered in leather armor with a simple leather helmet. The only thing the same as the first drawing was his long beard and hair, still ornamented with beads.
“This is what scholars think he actually looked like. The Viking warrior often wore simple things they could easily make and carry. The ancient Vikings raised sheep and cattle. Making armor from cattle is surely easier than building the many tools the blacksmith would need to cast bronze armor. Plus, Vikings couldn’t call carry large pieces of battle armor and carry massive amounts of treasure in their small ships. Even the sturdy longboat would sink.”
Bente raised her hand.
“You said Naddodr was the grand-father of Vinland. How can that be?”
“He was the first in the long line of Viking Explorers. Who was the first explorer to discover America?”
“All the children raised their hands.”
“Leif Erikson,” answered a student.
“You’re somewhat correct,” said Mr. Hagen, “although some credit Christopher Columbus in 1492, we all know that Leif Erikson and a band of Viking explorers founded Vinland – in Newfoundland – half a millennium earlier, around the year 992.”
“How is Leif Erikson related to Naddo…”
“Naddoddr,” corrected Mr. Hagen, “He lived in the Faroe Islands, to the west of Norway just across the North Sea. He was the great grand-father of Thorvald Asvaldson. Thorvald’s son was Erik Thorvaldson, or Erik the Red. Erik’s son was Leif Erikson. Each son journeyed farther west than the father. In this way, Naddoddr was the great-grandfather of Vinland.”
Mr. Hagen flipped through the slides of the various fathers and sons, describing each one’s achievements built upon each other.
“Naddodr found Iceland,” stammered Mr. Hagen. Then, he stopped to correct himself.
“Let me clarify. Naddoddr wasn’t exploring when he found Iceland. He had been to Norway and was returning to his home in the Faroe Islands. Back then, the Vikings used star charts to find their way across vast seas and oceans. When Naddoddr returned home, it was dark and cloudy. He got lost. That is how he found Iceland.”
“What about Erik the Red?”
“Yes…some years later, Erik’s father Thorvald had been banished from Norway. Thorvald and his family journeyed to Iceland. After Erik became an explorer, just like his ancestors, he journeyed to Greenland. Although many people credit him as the founder of the giant island-country of Greenland, the is a written record which clearly states that he was one of many Vikings who sailed through the North Atlantic to Greenland.”
The next slide showed several color-coded arrows traveling right to left on a very old map of Norway, Iceland, Greenland, and North America.
Bente raised her hand.
“Mr. Hagen, why is there a sea serpent drawn in the middle of the map?”
“Back in that time, as you know, there were myths about the sea. In fact, the main source for this information is a book called the Icelandic Saga.”
Mr. Hagen turned off the projector and turned on the overhead lights. He drew a simple diagram on the chalkboard. A small collection of grave-shaped stones stood at the top of a grassy hill. He then drew one of his famous arrows. This bright yellow chalk line led to a square. Inside the square, he drew a single oblong stone. He then drew ancient letters, known as runes, on the stone.
“The Icelandic Saga is a mix of history and myth. Vikings gathered around bonfires. They shared stories. These included the stories of their Viking raids and trading caravans.”
Mr. Hagen then pointed to the map of the vast North Atlantic Ocean.
“They also included stories about the Viking explorers. Some Viking Explorers did not meet a happy end. Although Viking Longboats were seaworthy, some still sank. The Ocean was a wild wilderness of water. In fact, when Erik the Red first ventured to Greenland, he took 25 ships. Only 14 made it the whole way to Greenland. Fascinating, if not factual, stories explained some of the Viking disappearances and deaths. This was part of the Viking storytelling tradition. Eventually, as Vikings developed writing, like the runes on my rock tablet, the stories were literally written in stone.”
Mr. Hagen moved on to through the slides of Greenland’s settlement towns. There were longhouses, built directly into the ground.
“Just like they did in Norway and Iceland, the Vikings built longhouses. These houses sheltered as much as an entire village worth of people in one place. Grassy mounds protected the Vikings from Greenland’s harsh Arctic winters. The slides showed the few thatched houses, shaped much like the buildings of Bryggen, plain and sturdy with steep A-shaped roofs.
“Because of Erik the Red, these stories of a new land reached Iceland. Many Icelanders, and even Norwegians, immigrated to Greenland.”
Mr. Hagen moved through slides of overhead diagrams of the longoats. He then showed pictures of burial mounds of a similar boat-like shape.
“The Vikings truly loved their ships. Many chieftains were given a Viking funeral.”
“I know all about that,” said Bente, “that’s where the chieftain was placed inside his boat after his death and set to sea. Then, his Bondi would use flaming arrows to set it on fire. The ship would burn and the chieftain would be buried with his boat in the sea.”
“That’s part of it, but really, most chieftains were simply buried in their boats as if it was a coffin. The boat would be placed into the ground with the chieftain inside. Then, they would form a burial mound for the chieftain, in the shape of the ship. Standing stones, like the runic stone tablet I’ve drawn here, mark the boundaries of these gravesites.”
“There’s a cemetery just like that outside Bergen,” noted a student.
Mr. Hagen nodded.
“These burial mounds are called stone ships. They are a very important part of Norwegian heritage,” said father.
“I still think the Viking funeral at sea sounds better,” said the student..
“Again,” stated Mr. Hagen, “that is just the movies and television. Vikings are not all about hand axes and raiding parties. Some are just like you and me.”
“With longer beards,” said Bente as she pinched her bare chin.
“I suppose you’re right,” said Mr. Hagen.
He looked up at the clock. Finally, the week was over.
“All right, I’ll see everyone on Monday, when we talk about the arrival of the National Church.”
Students stuffed their backpacks and put on their winter clothing. Outside, winds had started to howl. Bente fetched Erik from class. They ran home. Bente looked out at the snowstorm.
“We’d better call our mother.”
Mrs. Larsen showed up at school some time later. The children ran out to meet her, shielding their eyes and face from the harsh wind. Mrs. Hagen turned the heat to high.
“Buckle up,” she said to her children.
After a long week at school, Bente was ready for the weekend. Erik was, too.
“I’ve got a stockpot full of fish chowser at home. Who’s hungry?”
Both children raised their hands.
Then, Mrs. Larsen carefully navigated the car through the blinding snow. Even though it was a familiar course, Mrs. Larsen patiently drove through Bergen’s city streets. Unlike the treacherous North Atlantic, Mrs. Larsen followed familiar streets up and around the edge of the fjord. When they finally made onto their very own street, Bente and her brother breathed a sigh of relief. The faint outline of their house stood in the distance. Finally, they were home.
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