The Saga of Ollie Daneson
***************************
They sat within the smoke filled room
Clutching mugs of warm mulled ale,
They spoke of Hero's, and their doom,
And ghosts that roamed beyond the pale.
Then came the cry as the bard called out.
Silence! To you I have a tale to tell
The Vik of Ollie Daneson, hear me out.
Of how he fought and how he fell.
Not a sound, heard from the Hall,
As the teller of Sagas took his place.
A hundred warriors had heard the call.
They moved aside to give him space
The mead maids filled their mugs with Ale
Then took their places on the seats.
The warriors roared, the Bard to hail,
Then settled to hear of the Daneson's feats.
The bard then slowly raised his head
And gazed on those assembled there.
Filled with Ale, with soup and bread.
His tale with them he began to share.
Hear me now, and my tale I'll tell
Of Longships tall and a Warriors might
Of Viking men, they fought and died well.
How the Hero the Daneson, fell that night.
He sallied forth, in the eye of the storm,
To raid upon the English shore
Three hundred men his force did form
With dreams of plunder, of gold and more.
Five Dragon ships sailed that day
The masts stood tall, the sails unfurled.
A raven swooped and marked the way
On Danesons sail a serpent curled.
Carved into the prow a fearsome worme.
It's painted eyes appeared to glow,
Wide open jaws, a smile was formed
Striking terror wherever it goes.
The oars dipped into the churning sea,
Turned east towards the English shore.
The wind it howled into their lee
Steadfast he stood to the steering oar
Two days of sailing around the shore,
They found a place where they could land.
Hauled up their ships, to rocks they moored,
The Daneson gathered his men around.
Today we'll raid the town of York
We?re a hundred leagues from the English force.
Tis filled with gold I've heard the talk.
So gather your arms lets set our course
They marched into the misty dawn
Toward the object of their desire
Today the mothers of York would mourn,
They'd raise the town with Odin's fire.
Two leagues out from their landing place,
A panicked cry sprang from the wood.
There stood a Bondsman, fear on his face
He tried to run but it was no good.
They followed him to his village near.
Twenty met them with pike and rake,
They Battled in the village square
Danesons men, their lives did take.
They could not risk a general alarm
Reaching the town of York
They slaughtered all, none escaped harm
Dead peasants would never talk
They sacked and looted all that was there.
Then fired the village, burned to the ground
There was not enough loot for them to share,
So they drank all the ale and mead they found.
At last they arrived at the town of York
Prepared to attack, to take by surprise
To capture the gold and the slaves they sought
When from the Town came a rallying cry
A thousand troops came marching forth
At their head rode the Saxon King
Cross bearing monks, led the march from the north
Prayers for victory to their God they did sing.
The Norsemen spread out and drew their swords
Shields and axes flashed in the sun
They had no fear of these English Lords,
From this rabble army they would not run.
The Pikemen charged the Danesons men
With shouts of derision they stood their ground.
Sixty men died on that bloody Fen
The screams of the dying rang over the town
A duel of Archers followed that skirmish
And English longbows soon found their place
The Vikings retreated, left five who were finished.
Then tuned and regrouped, the English to face
Five hundred came charging on horse and on foot
Knights with their lances, footmen with swords.
Determined that no one would sack or loot
The Holiest places located in York
Ollie the Daneson was a Berserkers son
He roared as within his blood started to boil
He stood there half naked under the sun.
Determined his blood not stain English soil
He drew from its scabbard his two handed sword.
Odin! He screamed as he practiced his swing.
Stepped forward to meet the oncoming hoard
Of this days battle great Sagas they'd sing.
With ringing of steel they clashed on that field.
The Norsemen and Yoemen each gave of their best.
Ollie's great broadsword sliced all that would yield
Dispatching the English to eternal rest.
He slashed and he parried, no one could match
A Berserker in battle a man with no fear
King Ethelred saw, could do nothing but watch,
Five hundred slaughtered, his eye shed a tear.
The English retreated to the top of the hill
As the sun slowly sank in the west
The Vikings regrouped to kill or be killed
To the end of the fight they would give of their best
A Kingsman came forward white kerchief in hand
He shouted he carried King Ethelred's word
The Daneson came forward and tall he did stand
Cross his shoulder he rested his sword.
?The King dose admire the valour you've shown
This day on this great bloody field.
The King does desire when sun greets the dawn
You be gone, or lay down your weapons and yield.
The Dane turned his head, spat blood on the ground,
Then said to the Kingsman before him.
? A Norseman won?t yield to battles great sound,
No matter how things would look grim.
I'll carry your words to the rest of my men
I will not warrant the tone of reply.
I?ll heed what they say twixt now and then
And perhaps, tomorrow we'll die.
He returned and around him gathered his troop,
Of three hundred all but sixty were slain
He new if they stayed there'd be little hope
That they'd see a red sunset again.
They gathered their weapons, walked into the woods
Marched back to their ships by the shore.
Four they destroyed, they burned where they stood.
The Dragonship sailing for home once more.
But the Gods had decided that they?d not return.
They whipped up a mighty great storm
Thor?s thunder roared, Odin's light burned,
And great waves crashed upon the Worme
He lay upon the sunlit beach,
Waves gently rocked him back and forth.
Hand reaching out, as if to reach
A way to drag him up the shore
Around him driftwood scattered there
Crushed and splintered by the sea.
Unseeing eyes, they seemed to stare
At remnants of what he used to be
No memory of the storm last night,
The waves had crashed across the deck
The Gods had raged, Thor's lightning bright
Had caught the mast of that tiny speck
With a mighty roar He'd drawn his sword
And raised it to the blackened sky
Challenged the gods, his strength restored,
West wind answered with a mournful cry
His crew was filled with Viking Zeal
As against the waves they went to war
Across their heads the thunder peeled,
The Longship was pointed to the shore.
They'd ride the waves down to the shore,
A big one caught them across the beam,
Rolled them over, the crew were no more
His ears were filled with the drowning scream
Tied to mast, it would pull him down
He tried to cut the binding rope
If he failed he knew that he would drown
Sink to the bottom without a hope
Splintered decking struck his head
As he cut the masthead from his back
Crashing waves filled him with dread
Last thing he saw was the lightning crack.
The sun rose higher, seagulls screeched
As they hovered over the lifeless form
They did not care how his end was reached
To them he was flotsam of the storm
The sunlight glinted from the sand
The seagulls wheeled with one accord.
There clutched tightly in his hand,
Was the shining blade of his mighty Sword.
Odin looked down and saw him there
Saw that he?d died with sword in hand
Announced to Valhalla this man would share
The finest there is in Summerland.
He sits within the mighty halls
Of Asggard, drinking the finest meads.
His sword and shield adorn the walls.
Remembers with pride his greatest deeds
The bard turned then to the silent Hall
And gazed upon their silent faces
A Viking stood at six foot tall
Every one shuffled in their places.
He smiled as he lifted his jug of Ale
A toast to the Saga of Ollie Daneson.
A toast to the Bard for his mighty tale.
To Odin a toast from Ollie's grandson.
The Meadhall rose with one accord
Lifted their Jugs with a mighty roar.
The saga of Ollie Daneson, banging jugs upon the board
"May he rest, then sail among us once more."
They drank his health till morning light
Made merry there within the Hall
With many songs, the occasional fight
Then one by one, fell drunk to the floor.
Robin A Spicer © 2003-07-05
