The year of Our Lord is eight hundred and ninety-two, and the scene lies a couple of miles north of the village of Hessle, on the Yorkshire bank of the Humber.

Twenty-five years before this date a heathen army had crossed over the Humber on their march to York, and a good number of broken heads and hewn-off limbs had been the result of their visit to the province of Deira. Then, like sensible people, the invaders and the invaded had come to terms. Villages of the Angles were not too numerous in the district. At any rate there was plenty of unoccupied land lying around them, and this was just what the invaders wanted; for their brothers and sisters had grown so numerous in the lands across the sea that those who had left their homes had no great desire to go back to them.

Among the band of heathen Northmen had been a jarl named Anlaf, and between Anlaf and the ealdorman at Beverley it had been agreed that the former should choose land whereon to settle his men somewhere in the four miles of unoccupied country lying between Hessle and Cottingham. Also his men were to be allowed to choose wives from among the maidens of these two villages or the neighbouring ones of Weighton and Riplingham. In return the Northmen were to give their attention to clearing and tilling the land they had chosen, and to conduct themselves, as far as could reasonably be expected, in a manner harmless to the people of all the surrounding villages.

Such had been the beginnings of Anlafsbyr. The land for settlement was chosen—nice dry land on rising ground with a natural drainage to the river—rough shelters for the men were first made, and the ground was then marked out for the building of Anlaf’s hall. Three times was the ground measured for this, and each time after the first the measurements proved slightly larger than the previous ones. This boded good luck, and the work was therefore entered upon with spirit.

In the course of time the building of the hall was finished. Then came the rewards to Anlaf’s men for their labours. The surrounding land was marked out and divided up, each karl receiving a portion, large or small in accordance with his own worth; and a considerable portion was left over to belong to all the karls in common. The thralls of course got no land—they did not count as men but as cattle. Probably some of them were exchanged with the ceorls of Hessle for four-legged cattle.

In three years’ time Anlafsbyr was a thriving settlement. The omens had promised good luck and the good luck came. Meanwhile Ketil, the son of Anlaf, chose himself a wife from Riplingham. So did others for themselves; and some, not finding the looks of the maidens of Hessle and Beverley and Weighton and Riplingham to their liking, went farther afield and made raids on the villages of Hotham and Sancton, only to retire with several cracked heads and broken arms for their pains.

But this was an exception to the general rule. In most cases the Anglian maidens were quite willing to wed the handsome strangers, even if their language was at first difficult to understand, and their methods of wooing somewhat rough and unpolished. In fact they rather approved of the roughness than disapproved of it, and to be singled out for one’s good looks and carried off by one of those bold Northmen was something for a maiden to be proud of.

The result of the frequent marriages between the Northmen and the Angles quickly became apparent. Husband and wife spoke languages sufficiently alike for one to make out the other’s meaning in most cases. But the children were, quite naturally, brought up to speak the tongue of their mother and not that of their father; so that as time went on the language of the Northmen disappeared, or rather became merged in the language of the Angles. Thus although Anlaf and his karls spoke the Norse tongue, their grandchildren spoke the English. But for all that, they lived in the Danelagh, where Danish customs and Danish laws were observed.

When Anlaf died in 871, Ketil Anlafsson began to rule his father’s settlement. His two sons, Ulf and Hrafn, went, as custom decreed they ought to go, on Viking raids as soon as they reached the manly age of fifteen or sixteen. Four years of these raids sufficed to prove the prowess of Ulf Ketilsson, and his right eventually to succeed his father as jarl. Then he settled down to help his father, who had become a man past middle age; but Hrafn his brother continued at sea. In 890 Ketil Anlafsson died, and his son Ulf was proclaimed jarl. Hrafn was then away. But now in the Spring of 892 he has just returned, to be honoured by all men as the first among them to make the perilous voyage to an island lying far to the north-west, whose name was spoken of as ‘Iceland.’

Great therefore are the rejoicings at Anlafsbyr. Jarl Ulf has ridden at full speed to the river-shore on hearing that three ships have been sighted coming up the river with red, blue and green sails like those of his brother’s ships. Before he leaves home he has given instructions to his wife Helga that the hall is to be got ready for a great feast in case the ships are his brother’s. A messenger has quickly brought back the good tidings, and preparations are being pushed on rapidly, that the welcome Hrafn and his men receive shall be one fitting to the occasion.

Let us now glance round the hall built by Anlaf and see what it is like.

Picture to yourself an oblong hall built entirely of wood, and with a steep roof supported by upright and cross beams. It is built east and west and at each end is a door, one the men’s door, the other the women’s door. Along each side there is a low aisle, which is partitioned off into small sleeping-rooms for the jarl’s family and guests.

Down the middle of the hall are long stone hearths on which are smouldering three fires of wood and turf. Above each fire is a hole in the roof through which the smoke makes its escape after eddying round the rafters, which are covered with a thick layer of soot. The windows are high up, of just sufficient size for a man’s body to be able to squeeze through, and the holes are covered with the membrane obtained from the inside of a cow, which is almost as transparent as glass.

Along the hall will be two long tables, constructed of planks resting upon trestles. At the middle of the south side stands the high seat of the jarl, and opposite it is another which is always reserved for the most honoured guest. Thralls in white woollen clothes are now running hither and thither placing the long tables in position, and coaxing the smouldering fires into a big roaring blaze; for the nights are still very cold.

Adjoining the hall are numerous other buildings—the women’s sleeping rooms and the kitchens and storehouses. The last two are a scene of bustle. Bondwomen are hurrying about in all directions. If you look at this one you will perhaps notice that she has lost an ear. It has been cut off for an act of pilfering, but she tries to hide her loss by arranging her hair over the place where the ear should be. In the distance is another bondwoman who cannot possibly hide the marks of her punishment. Three times has she been caught pilfering, with the result that she now has to manage as best she can without an ear at all and without a nose.

But outside there is a great noise of shouting and the trampling of horses and of men. Hrafn Ketilsson has arrived with his men, and welcome is being given him by Jarl Ulf and his wife, Helga Eiriksson. It is not yet time for the meal now being prepared, and Hrafn declares that he is not hungry one little bit; so sports are hastily arranged on the green in front of the hall. There shall be a great horse-fight; for two of Ulf’s karls have horses which have been thoroughly trained to fight, and neither of which has yet been beaten.

The horse-fight takes place accordingly. Each karl makes his horse rise on its hind legs and attack the other, biting it wherever it can. As the contest goes on, the horses get enraged and their masters incite them by blows on their hind quarters. Finally one of the horses gives in and runs away, leaving the other the victor.

Then there is a running contest. Hrafn the Viking has among his troop a man from Ireland, named Gilli, whom he wagers to beat any horse in speed. A dozen horses are immediately offered, and the best of them, a horse belonging to a karl named Hrolf, is chosen. Gilli will race Hrolf’s horse; and if the horse wins, its owner shall have a gold ring given him by Hrafn. For half a mile they race along, Gilli being all the while at the horse’s shoulder, and the result being therefore a dead heat.

‘But,’ says Hrolf, ‘you had hold of the strap of my saddle-girth, and my horse pulled you along.’ ‘Then,’ replies Gilli, ‘we will have it over again.’

This time Gilli starts a yard in front of the horse, and at the end of the half-mile he is still the same distance in front. ‘Did I this time take hold of your saddle-girth?’ asks Gilli. ‘No,’ is Hrolf’s answer, ‘but my horse had no chance. You were just in front of him all the way, and I was afraid of riding you down.’

‘Very well,’ says Gilli, ‘we will have the race over again.’

So for the third time they race, and this time the horse is given twenty yards start. But Gilli catches Hrolf up, passes him, stands still till the horse is again in front, then starts again, and finishes ten yards in front. There is tremendous cheering, and Jarl Ulf gives Gilli a gold ring of weight equal to that offered by his brother to the horse’s owner.

Next a game of ball. Sides are chosen, and a hard wooden ball and two wooden bats are brought forth. The bats are given to one man on each side. The ball is thrown up into the air, and one of the batsmen hits it with all his force in the direction of the other. The second batsman tries to hit it back and not let it pass him, but before he can hit it he is pulled down by the men of the other side. So the game goes on. It is by no means a gentle game, for the occasion is a special one and all the players are on their mettle. When ‘time’ is called and bruises and wounds are reckoned up, it is found that the players have sustained three broken arms, a broken thigh-bone, and the loss of one eye. Lesser injuries go uncounted.

By this time the feast is ready, and so are the men. If good appetites are any indication of good health, the uninjured men are all in a state of very vigorous health. Jarl Ulf Ketilsson leads the way to his high seat, and Hrafn the Viking is shown to the high seat opposite. Swords, shields, and axes are hung on nails driven into the walls above the side benches. By the side of Ulf sits his wife Helga. The scene is one of varied colour, the blue, red, green, scarlet, and purple kirtles of the freemen contrasting strongly with the white garments of the thralls who serve the food.

Huge joints of beef and pork are brought in from the kitchens, and there are numerous calls for the former; for there has been little or no fresh meat since the beginning of last November, and men’s stomachs have a way of getting tired of salted pig, when they have fed on it for five months without a break. Plates are of wood, fingers serve for forks, and each man cuts off with his knife-dagger the amount of meat and of bread that he feels himself capable of eating. Ale is served to the jarl and his family in bullock’s horns adorned with gold and silver bands, to the others in wooden drinking-cups. Half-way through the feast Helga leaves her seat, fills a horn with wine, and offers it to Hrafn. As the Viking drains it at a draught there is a great cheer, which takes a long time to die down.

So the meal goes on. There is little variety in the food, but there is plenty of it, and that is the important thing where hungry men are concerned. As they eat, all are talking. This karl is describing to another how he has just been ‘had’ by a fellow at Weighton, who sold him a thrall guaranteed sound in wind and limb. But the thrall cannot run twice round Jarl Ulf’s hall without getting the stitch. His new master is vehemently explaining that he intends to get his money back.

Another is telling how he has seen a karl’s wife and her bondwoman take the ordeal at Hundmansbyr. The bondwoman had accused her mistress of wrong-doing, and the mistress had challenged her bondwoman to go to the ordeal.

So the priests had got ready a bucket of boiling water, at the bottom of which were placed two sacred stones. In sight of all, the mistress had plunged in her hand and brought up one of the stones. And her arm showed no signs of a hurt. Then the bondwoman had attempted the same. But her arm had been frightfully scalded. Thus the innocent had been distinguished from the guilty, and the bondwoman had been taken to the nearest ditch and drowned.

Meanwhile Hrafn the Viking’s karls have been pouring into eager ears tales of their adventures among the snow and ice of the seas far away to the north. One has a walrus tooth to show, and others have the claws of a huge white beast that can walk on its hind legs and can squeeze a man’s body in its arms till every bone is broken. They have the skin of one of these fearsome creatures on board down at the river-shore, intended by their Viking chief as a present to his brother’s wife. A fine bed it will make, but it cost the lives of three men to obtain. Would their listeners hear wonders? There are plenty to tell. In the seas from which they have returned they sailed for four days without a night, while the sun went round and round in a great fiery ring.

While this talk is going on, a shame-faced fellow is trying to slink in unobserved at the men’s door. But he is greeted with cries of ‘Nithing!’^[17] and receives a volley of beef bones that first bowls him over and then makes him depart more hurriedly than he had come in. Some of Hrafn’s men follow him, for he has been guilty of stealing from a comrade on one of the ships. His head will be shaven to-morrow, then dipped in tar and covered with eider down, so that he may remember for the future that honourable karls do not steal the belongings of their comrades.

Tables are eventually cleared much more quickly than they were filled. Places are now changed. The jarl and his brother play chess, others play at dice. A wrestling-match is soon fixed up, in which the combatants are strapped together at the waist and each will try to throw the other.

Following this there is a tug-of-war across the fire. An ox-hide is brought in and an end seized by each of two men standing on opposite sides of the hearth stones. Each tries to pull the other into the fire. But they are fairly equally matched, and for some time neither succeeds. Then tempers rise. The shouts of the supporters of each urge them on, and one succeeds in pulling the other on to the fire. As he has drunk deeply of strong ale, he is not content with his victory, but throws the ox-hide over his fallen opponent and then jumps upon him to mark his defeat. When the defeated karl’s friends succeed in pulling him out of the fire, he is, naturally, somewhat scorched.

Now comes in a juggler. He can perform many tricks, and among them is that of keeping three daggers in motion, so that one is always in his hand and the two others in the air. Further, he offers to show his skill on the following day by stepping from oar to oar on the outside of a ship while it is being rowed. He will step thus from stem to stern and back again, and moreover will keep his three daggers moving all the time. The challenge is accepted and he shall have his choice of presents from Hrafn if he can succeed in doing what he says he will.

Challenges are in the air, it seems. Here is Bersi, one of Hrafn’s karls, challenging Egil, a karl of Ulf, because he finds that while he has been away from home Egil has married the maiden to whom he was betrothed. And Bersi is not at all pleased with the course of events, so he has challenged the other karl for his wife. To-morrow they will go to the holmgang,^[18] and fight it out; and if Egil is not the victor, he will lose his wife and Bersi will gain one.

The excitement caused by Bersi’s challenge is dying down when further excitement arises from the entrance of a karl with news of a strange sight to be seen in the sky. It had been a dark, cloudy night, but suddenly the clouds broke up and there between two clouds appeared a star with a long light streaming from it like a tail of fire. It is there for all to see if they don’t believe him.

So a rush is made for the men’s door and the hall is left deserted. Outside there are groups of wondering men looking upwards at a bright ‘hairy star,’ and asking one another with bated breath what evil fortune to their land this marvellous sight portends.