Thorfinn and the Awful Invasion Page 2

  After drinking ale, the Vikings sang lots of songs. Then Thorfinn’s father got up onto the table and blew a huge horn, which brought silence to the whole hall.

  “Tomorrow morning at first tide we leave on another great voyage!” he cried. All the Vikings cheered.

  “Huzzah!”

  “Our plan is to sail across the great North Sea to the land of the Scots.”

  To Thorfinn this was really exciting. After all, he’d never been to Scotland. He held up his hand.

  “Pardon me, dearest Father.” All eyes turned to look at Thorfinn. Harald felt scared for the first time in his life. Battles and fistfights didn’t trouble him one bit, but his son embarrassing him? That was frightening.

  “What shall we do when we get there?” Thorfinn asked. His father looked down at him as if he were mad.

  “We all sit down and have a cup of tea, boy. What do you think?”

  The other Vikings burst out laughing, slapping their thighs, but Thorfinn didn’t get the joke. His eyes lit up.

  “Is that really what we’re going to do?”

  “Don’t be daft. We raid all the villages,” said one Viking.

  “We burn them to the ground,” said another.

  “We nick the gold from their churches,” said a third.

  To Thorfinn it seemed crazy to travel all that way just to burn everything. He thought it would be more fun to go sightseeing.

  “I have heard that there’s some wonderful scenery along the Scottish coast. Wouldn’t it be great if we all took paints and brushes? We could sit on the deck and paint pictures. We could even have a competition.”

  Suddenly, the great hall fell deadly quiet. The Vikings all stared at each other, completely stunned. Thorfinn’s father looked as if he’d just been asked to eat a salad.

  “Bah! The idea! Can you imagine my ferocious Viking warriors flouncing around deck wafting paintbrushes? Are you mad?”

  There was a huge burst of laughter, and then Olaf, Erik’s son, stood up. He was still determined to get revenge on Thorfinn for the dung-heap incident.

  “Listen to this one,” he said, “Thorfinn the Sightseer!” The table erupted again.

  Now Erik the Ear-Masher stood up. He drew his sword and whammed it down on the table, cutting the head off one of the roast pheasants and catapulting it into the air, along with a horn of ale. The pheasant head plopped into someone’s beer. The man just shrugged and went on drinking. The horn spun round a couple of times before landing upside down on a dog’s head. The dog yelped and then bolted out of the door. All eyes turned to Erik.

  “Harald the Skull-Splitter,” Erik said, “we do not want that son of yours on our voyage.”

  There was a big gasp from the other Vikings. Erik was challenging the chief of the village himself. It could only mean one thing.

  There was going to be a fight!

  CHAPTER 6

  Harald’s eye twitched dangerously. It would have been enough to send shivers up any man’s spine – even Erik the Ear-Masher.

  “Bah! Put that sword away, you one-eyed scoundrel!” said Thorfinn’s father. “You dare challenge me? My son will be going. He will make a name for himself, by Odin! He will be a hero, and legends will be told about him for years to come.”

  Erik roared with laughter.

  “You cannot be serious. This boy, the stuff of legends? My own son, Olaf, is a full year older than yours, and he is the strongest and fittest of all the boys, and yet he has never been on a voyage. This just isn’t fair!”

  Harald’s temper was about to snap. His knuckles were gripping his sword and getting whiter by the moment, and his teeth were grinding like two giant millstones. The other Vikings looked from their chief to Erik and back again They were waiting, even hoping, for a great fight to kick off.

  Suddenly, Oswald, the wise man, stood up.

  “If I may, Chief Harald?” he said. “I have a solution to the problem.”

  “What is your solution?” Harald replied, while still glaring at Erik the Ear-Masher.

  “Why don’t we take Erik’s son too?” Oswald continued. “It might be good for young Thorfinn to have company.”

  “Hmm…” said Thorfinn’s father, thinking. The stand-off continued. After a moment of further eye-twitching, he agreed.

  “Very well, it is to be. Olaf, son of Erik the Ear-Masher, will come with us too. But let this be known … if it were not for the boys, and for the fact that I’m in a very good mood, I would have lopped your head off, Ear-Masher!”

  Slowly, Erik put away his sword. Harald’s eye kept twitching until Erik sat down. The other Vikings cheered, and went back to guzzling their food, swallowing their ale and burping loudly.

  Thorfinn nudged his father.

  “Father, I am sorry to be such a bother. I do appreciate you taking me, you know. I’ll try my best to be good.”

  Thorfinn’s father roared, and bit the head off a stewed hare.

  “I don’t want you to be good, I want you to be bad! Understand?”

  “You are sooo lucky, Thorfinn,” said Velda after the feast. “I wish they would let me go with you.”

  Thorfinn wished she was going too. She was brave and clever, everything a good Viking should be.

  “When I am the chief I will let you go on voyages, I promise,” he said.

  Velda’s face broke into a smile.

  “I know you will,” she said. And she went off swinging her axe happily.

  Thorfinn went straight home. As he drifted off to sleep, Oswald’s tales of ancient legends and heroes ran through his head. Perhaps one day, he thought, people will sit round fires and tell stories about me.

  CHAPTER 7

  Dawn broke upon the fjord. The sun was shining brightly and the water was calm and peaceful. Thorfinn packed everything he could think of, including an extra-large jar of jam and a pouch of pinecones for making tea. He couldn’t go without Percy, so he put his pigeon in a cage and took him along.

  When he got to the longship, most of the other Vikings were already there. They stood on the deck with their giant oars held aloft.

  A warrior gave Oswald a piggyback on board, as he was too old to jump. Oswald hit the warrior with his stick and cursed him for nearly falling into the water.

  “Watch it, you wretched piece of reindeer dung!”

  Erik arrived, glaring at everyone with his one eye. Olaf brought along his hawk, a dark grey bird whose head was covered in a hood. Olaf stroked the bird’s head as he taunted Thorfinn.

  “Bet you’re scared,” Olaf said, and he barged past him.

  Thorfinn didn’t get angry. He just smiled back politely. He wasn’t remotely scared. He was excited. For the first time he was going out of the fjord to see the world.

  Thorfinn’s father barked orders from the back of the ship.

  “Cast off, you pigs!”

  The Vikings pushed the boat away from the pier with their oars. Thorfinn waved goodbye to his mother and the rest of the village. The longship turned round and they set off, singing rowdy songs all the way up the fjord towards the sea.

  It wasn’t long before the steep slopes of the mountains on either side opened out to a bright blue expanse of water. Harald ordered the men to hoist the sail. The boat caught the wind and they headed west.

  Thorfinn could hardly believe his eyes. He had never seen anything so beautiful or so flat as the North Sea before. He went up to the front of the ship to watch the breakers crash off the prow. Behind him, the coast of his homeland disappeared out of sight.

  “Next stop, Scotland!” cried his father.

  “Huzzah!” cried everyone.

  Thorfinn remained at the front of the ship well into the afternoon. He was too excited to tear himself away. But he couldn’t help wondering where Scotland was. Puzzled, he asked Oswald. The old wise man laughed.

  “Ha! You young fool! We’ve a long way to go yet. Scotland is still far over the horizon.”

  Thorfinn stroked his chin. He liked to do that
when he was thinking. It was a habit he’d picked up from Oswald himself, who stroked his beard nearly all the time.

  “Wait a minute,” Thorfinn said. “If the earth really is flat, like all Vikings say, then surely I should be able to see Scotland.”

  “Good thinking,” said Oswald. “You are a man of learning. What shape do you think the world is, then?”

  “Well, if Scotland is over the horizon, I would say that the earth is not flat at all, but curved. And, if I can’t see Denmark, which is south, or Iceland, which is north, then I guess the world must be round, not flat.”

  Erik the Ear-Masher and his son overheard this comment, and both of them burst out laughing.

  “Ha! Did you hear this nitwit?” said Erik. “He says the world isn’t flat at all. He says it’s round!”

  The other Vikings laughed and slapped their thighs. “The world is round, like a pudding! The world is a pudding!”

  “Somebody hold on to me,” said Olaf. “I’m going to fall off the ship from laughing!”

  Nearly every man on the ship was rocking back and forth and rolling around, laughing hysterically.

  “Round, indeed!” laughed Erik.

  Thorfinn looked at them all, smiling kindly. Only Oswald and his father failed to join in.

  Harald’s eye was twitching again. But now it was twitching at his own son. In fact both eyes were twitching. Harald had to wallop himself on the head to stop the other one. Then he gave a deep sigh, like an injured wild boar, and looked away.

  When the laughter died down, Oswald took Thorfinn by the arm and spoke to him quietly.

  “I’ll tell you something, young Thorfinn,” he said. “We men of learning have been trying to tell these idiots for years that the world is not flat. They won’t believe us.”

  As the sun started to sink into the horizon, Thorfinn caught sight of another ship. It was sailing in the other direction, towards the east.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Excuse me, dear Father,” Thorfinn said. “Would you please be so good as to look over there?”

  Thorfinn pointed the ship out to him, but his father struggled to see in the glare of the sinking sun. The twitchy eye didn’t help, of course. Thorfinn recognised the shape as a longship.

  “They are Vikings too,” said Thorfinn.

  “You have the eye of an eagle, my son,” said his father. “You might be of use to us yet.”

  Thorfinn’s father alerted the rest of the men, and they all gathered round the front of the ship to see who it was. There was a great deal of excitement.

  “They might be rivals of ours,” said Thorfinn’s father. “If they are, we will have to do battle with them. Or they might be friendly, in which case they can tell us where to find the best loot.”

  As the ship came closer, Erik the Ear-Masher spied a face he knew and declared that the ship was indeed friendly. This was met with a cheer. Vikings didn’t like fighting other Vikings, you see. There was no loot to be had in it, and, besides, it wasn’t half as much fun as fighting the Scots.

  “By Thor!” exclaimed Erik. “It’s the greatest Viking in Norway!”

  “The greatest?” said Olaf. “Not … not Ragnar the Granny-Wrestler!”

  “It is,” said Thorfinn’s father. “By Valhalla itself, it is. It is! Ragnar the Granny-Wrestler!”

  The whole crew grew very excited, whooping and cheering and waving their oars. Some of them even started belching the Viking national anthem, which they usually did only on special occasions, like holidays, royal weddings or village burnings.

  This man must be important, Thorfinn thought.

  “Excuse me, dear Oswald,” he said, “but what do you know of this Ragnar fellow?”

  “Ragnar the Granny-Wrestler is the toughest, most famous Viking in all the world. Legends are told about his feats all over Norway. The Queen Mother is one of his fans. Even the King asks for his autograph.”

  “I see,” said Thorfinn. “How interesting.”

  “We shall invite him over to our ship!” announced Thorfinn’s father.

  “Yes,” agreed Erik. “We must impress him.”

  “Ha! We will treat our very special guest like a prince,” said Harald. He turned to the rest of the crew. “Treat him like a guest should be treated, understand?”

  Thorfinn nodded obediently and went over to the fire to put the kettle on.

  The two crews exchanged a wave, and Ragnar’s longship drew closer. A rope was thrown across the divide between them.

  A giant man appeared at the other end of the rope. He started hauling himself across the gap with his hands, roaring and singing all the way.

  “Oh-oh-oh-oh, a-pillaging villaging we will go,

  Ay-ay-ay-ay, a-pillaging villaging every day.”

  A gigantic horn of ale hung round Ragnar’s neck, and he stopped every once in a while to take a giant slurp from it.

  The famous Granny-Wrestler reached the end of the rope and swung himself on board with his mighty arms. When he landed on the deck the whole boat seemed to shudder, as if it had been rammed by a whale. He cast a shadow over the other Vikings.

  Ragnar was as tall as a fir tree. He had a beard that reached his ankles, and a sword so big that it could steer the ship. In fact he looked more like a bear dressed in clothes than a man.

  Ragnar’s voice boomed when he spoke.

  “I am Ragnar, son of Hakon the Wolf-Hunter, brother of Sven the Mace-Smasher. Even my mother had a name. She was Monika the Head-Basher-Inner.”

  There was a strong mumble of approval amongst the crew, but Ragnar was far from finished.

  “I bully the meek, I spit on the weak, and I burp at the innocent. All before I even have my breakfast!” Applause started to break out. “I am a basher of peasants, an impaler of heads, a destroyer of cities and a scourge of nations!”

  “Huzzah!” the Vikings cried, jumping up and down. “Long live Ragnar the Granny-Wrestler!”

  “And who are you lot?” he asked, when they finally stopped cheering.

  Thorfinn’s father stepped forward and proudly introduced himself and his crew.

  “It’s a fine honour to meet you! Please accept the hospitality of our ship,” he said. “And, by the way, could we have your autograph?”

  Ragnar the Granny-Wrestler laughed, and he pulled out his sword and cut an X into the side of the boat.

  “There you go. You see, I cannot write, so that is my autograph. Now, where is my hospitality?”

  Thorfinn’s father was about to break open a barrel of their best ale, when Thorfinn appeared. He was carrying a tray of wooden cups filled with tea.

  “Good day to you, my dear Mr Granny-Wrestler,” he said, doffing his helmet with his free hand. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

  CHAPTER 9

  All the Vikings on the ship stood in horrified silence. They were absolutely gobsmacked.

  “A what?” said Ragnar. He looked down at Thorfinn like he was examining a small insect.

  “Pinecone tea,” said Thorfinn pleasantly. “As you can see, I’ve made enough for your men as well. It’s very refreshing.”

  The famous Viking’s face said everything. Ragnar the Granny-Wrestler looked as if he’d been slapped across the cheek with a large wet fish.

  He glared at Thorfinn’s father, who’d gone red, and then Erik the Ear-Masher, who’d gone white.

  Suddenly, Ragnar pulled out his sword and swung it round his head.

  “By Odin’s trousers!” he roared. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw this little twerp over the side!”

  “Goodness me. Did I say something wrong?” said Thorfinn.

  “Did you say something wrong?” said Chief Harald, trembling with shame. “Ragnar the Granny-Wrestler does not drink PINECONE TEA!”

  The rest of the crew were just as embarrassed. They were furious that Thorfinn could shame them like this. In fact, some of them (especially Erik the Ear-Masher and his son) agreed that he should be thrown over the side.


  “Make him walk the plank!” they shouted. “This imbecile is no Viking! He’s nothing but trouble! He’s made us look like a bunch of idiots!”

  “Thorfinn the Tea-Maker!” cried Olaf.

  “I don’t understand. You said to treat him like a very special guest,” said Thorfinn to his father.

  “Make Harald walk the plank too!” shouted Erik. “It’s his fault for bringing Thorfinn!”

  A few of the Vikings gasped. Once again, Erik the Ear-Masher had challenged their chief.

  Thorfinn’s father was having no more of this. He whipped out his sword, and Erik whipped out his. There was a mighty clash, and sparks flew everywhere. They locked their weapons together and came eye to eye, or rather, eyes to eye, as Erik only had the one.

  “You rat!” cried Thorfinn’s father.

  “You dog!” Erik responded.

  They duelled, splitting wood and ripping sails with every swipe and thrust. The crew gathered round, cheering, eager to see the action. Ragnar was thrilled to see such fine entertainment.

  “Aha, now we’re getting somewhere. A fight … to the death!” he cried.

  CHAPTER 10

  Meanwhile, Thorfinn went and sat down nearby. He wasn’t at all worried about his father, as he knew he was by far the best swordsman. He stretched a torn piece of sail across his knee, then he got a bit of charcoal and started to write.

  Thorfinn was right, as it turned out. Erik was no match for Harald. They didn’t call him the Skull-Splitter for nothing.

  With an almighty CRACK! Harald split Erik’s sword in two. Everyone applauded. Even Ragnar was impressed.

  Erik stared down at its shattered remains. “That was my fifth favourite sword!” he snarled, then tossed the hilt over the side and charged at Harald.