The Vikings in Europe of the eighth and ninth century
were dedicated to a pagan god of war, Odin.
Cramped by the confines of their barren, icebound northlands,
they exploited their skill as shipbuilders
to spread a reign of terror then unequalled in violence and brutality
in all the records of history.
The greatest wish of every Viking
was to die sword in hand and enter Valhalla,
where a hero's welcome awaited them from the god Odin.
The compass was unknown,
and they could steer only by the sun and the stars.
Once fog closed in, they were left helpless and blind.
After all, the earth was flat.
Sail too far off course, and the black wind would blow them
across the Poison Sea that lay to the west
and over the edge of the world into limbo.
Their abiding aim was to conquer England,
then a series of petty kingdoms, each one the jealous rival of the next.
Thus, when the Vikings set forth to rob and plunder England,
they never sailed out of sight of land.
They confined their attacks to swift overnight raids.
It was no accident that the English "Book of Prayer" contained this sentence...
"Protect us, oh Lord, from the wrath of the Northmen."
Ragnar!
The king is dead. Long live the king.
For two months we have mourned the good King Edwin,
who by the cruel Viking Ragnar was foully murdered,
and still lies unrevenged.
The council of the kingdom now declare that Aella is of the true royal line
and welcome his succession to the throne.
Your Majesty.
Thank you, my gracious lady.
You may rest assured that the barbarians that murdered your husband, my cousin,
will soon feel the weight of my anger.
And though your union with Edwin was fruitless,
feel confident that you retain the respect of us all.
You may retire... Queen Enid.
We, Thurston Bishop and Matthew Bishop,
ask you, will you take Aella as your king and accept...
You need not fear, my lady. His words cannot hurt you.
He has no right to the throne.
There is no direct heir, my lady.
There is an heir.
What?
Brother Godwin, I am with child. But not Edwin's.
The child is that of the Viking, Ragnar.
A bad omen.
The holy sword Requitur, the sword of kings.
Long live the king!
He is the son of a barbarian... but I love him as if he were Edwin's child.
There are already rumours of his birth. If they were to reach Aella...
Where are you sending him?
To Italy, to be tended by monks who will not know his identity.
But his life will be safe, and yours too.
Father Godwin!
- The pommel stone of the sword Requitur. - It is his by right.
If you hope to identify him in years to come
by means of this stone, so can his enemies.
20 years passed. Queen Enid had died,
but the rumour that she had given birth to a son continued to plague King Aella.
Although his castle became the stronghold of all England,
Aella was unable to stop the Viking raids.
Now let it be known throughout the kingdom of Northumbria...
that I, King Rhodri of Wales, bestow on King Aella
the hand of my daughter, Morgana.
I will consent to this.
I, too, King Rhodri of Wales, consent.
Praise be to God.
Amen.
Please rise, child.
On the first day of spring, you will become my bride.
I trust, Lord Egbert, that you approve of this alliance?
With all my heart, sire.
Then why do you spread tales of an heir to the throne left by Queen Enid?
'Tis common knowledge, sire.
The queen on her deathbed spoke of a son sent off to Italy
with the pommel stone of the sword Requitur tied about him.
Your Majesty, is it wise to speak of things so long in the past?
I hope soon to silence these wagging tongues.
This beautiful child will present me with an heir to the throne.
And this marriage will combine the strengths of Wales and Northumbria...
and protect our people from the depredation of the Vikings.
That is not enough!
I must also expose a traitor in our midst.
Surely there are no traitors in this hall, sire.
Cousin Egbert... why have your lands never been attacked by the Vikings?
What do you mean, sire?
Neither your lands nor the lands of your fellow
conspirators have ever suffered any real harm.
- Conspirators?! - For years, you have schemed against me.
I'll not be made a scapegoat for your failure to stop the Viking raids!
You have conspired with the foes of England to unseat me from my throne!
- What foes? - The Vikings! Take him out!
Lies will not sustain a tyrant!
Use skill. It must appear as if he took his own life.
- He's gone, sire! - Hunt him down.
Bring me his head!
Hail, Ragnar!
- You're late. We've been waiting half the night. - I nearly didn't get here at all.
Aella knows of our meetings. I barely escaped
with my life. You've got to take me with you!
He's no more use to us. Send him back.
That's no way to reward a man who's guided our raids.
No, we'll find good use for him.
Come aboard.
- Make sail for Long Sound. - Make sail for Long Sound!
Shh.
Ragnar!
Come on.
Hail, Ragnar! Hail, Ragnar! Hail, Ragnar!
Hail, Ragnar!
Hail, Einar!
I drink to your safe return in English ale!
I wish that it were English blood.
Hold your mouth! This is an Englishman.
- Englishman? - Lord Egbert. An ally.
Then drink to my father's return, Englishman.
Do you want the English to think we're barbarians?
This is Einar, my only son in wedlock.
He's so vain of his beauty, he won't let a man's beard hide it.
He scrapes his face like an Englishman.
Hail, Ragnar. And hail, Ragnar's beard.
- I want you to teach Lord Egbert our customs. - I'll teach him.
- Remember, I live by brains, not brawn. - Yes, my lord.
- Then fetch him a horse. - Now?
Why not?
- Einar... Gently, gently. - I know. Brains, not brawn.
He's got to draw us maps of the English coast!
What man ever had a finer son?
Odin could have sired him, but I did.
Come!
Don't be frightened. She's forbidden to hunt Englishmen.
- Too much for her to swallow. - We have the same sport in England.
With hawks like this? Watch.
Kill.
You call that a hawk?
I think we have hawks to equal that one.
Here. Bring up Long Claw.
Look, now there's a hunting bird.
- You again. Whose bird is that? - It's mine.
Oh? A slave with a hunting hawk?
- I found her frozen to a tree. - Where'd you steal it?
Sandpiper was with me when I found her.
The perfect witness - deaf and dumb. Perhaps you'd like your own tongue cut out.
- Then you'll tell no more lies. - I'm not a liar.
Is this the way slaves talk to Vikings?
Tell the English lord that you're a liar.
Kill!
Kill him!
No!
Don't kill him.
Odin!
Bring in the slave.
Look how he glares at me.
If he wasn't fathered by a black ram in the full of the moon, my name is not Ragnar.
What would you do with him in your country?
We have a special reward which is rather entertaining in a noisy way.
- What's that? - It's nothing much... just a pit full of wolves,
half-mad with starvation and trained to appreciate the flavour of human blood.
Ah, you see! The English are civilized.
- Can you think of anything worse? - I can think of something far worse.
I guess you can, with your pretty dainty face spoiled.
But he was a good slave. Kill him quick.
- No. No quick death for him. - What do you suggest I do with him?
- Nothing. - Nothing?
I want this slave alive.
You want him to live after tearing your face apart?
Yes.
The sun will cross the sky a thousand times before he dies.
And you'll wish a thousand times that you were dead.
Kitala!
You can't kill the slave.
What do the runes say?
If Odin willed that Eric should die, Thor's hammer would sound his death knell.
But the sky is silent.
The curse of Odin waits on him who kills the slave.
Then no man shall kill him. Let the tide of the sea do it.
Bind him, cast him into the slop-pool at low tide! Take him out!
You'll not kill him but you throw him into
the slop-pool to be drowned and eaten by crabs!
Then let the crabs be cursed by Odin! That's my decision.
If he survives the pool, what then?
If he's still alive when the tide turns,
then any fool who fishes him out can have him!
Survives!
Odin! Odin!
Send a wind and turn the tide.
Odin! Odin!
Odin!
Put her on the testing board.
I think I'll go and watch that slave drowning.
Stay here! You'll see something more interesting.
It does look rather an interesting game.
It's not a game. It's Odin's test for unfaithful wives.
Is she an unfaithful wife?
- Ask Einar. - Her husband says she is.
- Which is he? - He's throwing the axes.
But, uh... if she's innocent?
Her husband will succeed, the braids will be cut.
Supposing he misses the braids and hits her?
- Well, then she's guilty. - Oh, I see.
But what happens if he misses both the girl and the braids?
Three misses and we drown him!
One!
You're too drunk! You'll split her wide open!
Drunk, am I? I haven't had enough!
You missed her, didn't you?
What a son!
Kitala.
Kitala, my legs, my legs...
Move your legs, Eric. You must move them.
- Where did this slave boy come from? - Bjorn brought him here from a raid.
He was taken from a ship on the sea.
- And this was found about his neck? - Yes.
It's the only possession he ever had. He has no need of it now.
He's going to die.
Listen to me, little slave. Einar is in the hall celebrating your death!
Einar is laughing at you!
Einar... Einar.
- Live, Eric. Fight the cold. - Live and fight Einar.
Fight Einar. Fight Einar.
Odin. Odin.
Odin!
- Odin has answered you. - They were only flying clouds.
You're blind. They were Odin's daughters.
I heard the singing of their battle swords as they rode across the sky.
They bring the wind.
They bring the wind!
Listen!
The north wind, it's turning back the tide. Cut him loose.
Tide is going out. Your job is done.
I'll take the slave.
He's mine, Einar! The wind turned the tide and I pulled him out.
I'll take him, Englishman.
If your father's word means anything, he's mine.
Why such a sudden interest in a slave, my lord?
Shall we say, an English passion for converting the wicked
to the paths of righteousness.
Well, you're not in England now.
And you never will be unless I draw maps of England for your father.
All right.
You can keep the slave... for as long as you live.
- Odin's thanks for saving him. - And at no little risk to myself.
Do you know what this is?
Some day, I'll tell you what it is.
And you'll remember then that I saved you.
I'm still a slave.
- You won't be when we get to England. - I'll never get to England.
You're like a wounded animal. You trust no one.
- Good day, my lords. - Hail, Egbert!
- How's the boat coming along? - She'll be ready in a week.
Well, she's no Sea Dragon, but she'll do for a toy.
Does Einar still bear me a grudge?
I still think you're a fool to anger my son. He'll kill you one day.
You're not still angry, are you, Einar?
- That depends. - On what?
On how well you draw maps.
See for yourself. This is a map of Wales.
Wales? That slag heap? That's not worth one night's raiding.
It holds the richest prize of all: King Rhodri's daughter, Morgana.
Ha! Rhodri couldn't raise enough to ransom a Skagerrak moose.
No, but Aella could. He's to marry her in the spring.
Oh?
Einar, I think our Englishman has a good idea.
She's leaving soon and must go round this point.
- Here? You're sure? - I'd stake my life on it.
You already have.
Let me intercept her and bring her back here.
- How many men would you need? - One boat.
- Only one boat? - No more.
What about him without the collar? Would you take him along?
Well, naturally I'd take along my slave.
You stay here and draw maps. I'll kidnap the girl.
Ragnar, try to get him to draw maps that'll guide a ship
through fog and then maybe he'll be worth having around.
- There is no map of any use in fog. - Then what use are you to us?
Think of that while I'm gone. And don't let anything happen to that slave.
It's a strange metal that fell to earth from the North Star.
Sandpiper brought it from far away.
The price he paid was his ears and his tongue.
No matter how you hold it, it always struggles to return homeward
to the star from which it fell. It always points to the north.
Not in the fog. It cannot see the stars in the fog.
Watch.
Can it see the star through these walls?
This could lead you to many places.
Even to the land beyond the Poison Sea, Valhalla.
You will go there one day.
Only great heroes have ever reached it.
See what the runes say.
Will this take me there?
No.
A woman will point the way.
- What will she look like? - You will know her when you see her.
- When will that be? - Soon enough.
Will she love me or hate me?
Love and hate are horns on the same goat.
What woman would ever look at a slave?
This one will.
You're lying, Kitala.
All your tales are lies.
Don't look so sad, my lady. It doesn't become you.
Bridget, how can I marry a man that I hate?
It's not easy to be a princess, but you have a duty.
This alliance will help your people. You must marry Aella.
I would rather that I were dead.
The Vikings! Turn back! It's the Vikings!
Quick, my ladies, inside.
Steersman, cut to the wind! Forecastle men forward!
Remember, she's not to be harmed or she's worthless in trade!
All pull at the bowline!
Bend your backs!
Oh! No! No!
Bridget!
- My lady! - No!
- No! No! - My lady... help!
My lady...
Bridget! Bridget!
My lady!
Bridget!
Welcome aboard, my lady.
Aella will kill you for this.
Aella? It would be a pity to send you back to him.
What do you know of Aella?
Well, I know he'll pay all the treasure he's got to get you back.
I'll keep you for myself.
By Odin, she'd make a fine Viking queen.
Get away from me!
Hey, now first a little kiss of welcome.
Get away!
- A little kiss of welcome. - No!
Yes.
Remember, she's not to be harmed or she'll be worthless in trade.
Pretty bird, pretty feathers. Build her a nest so she can hide.
Too many hawks around here!
- Make sail! - Make sail.
Einar!
Hail, Einar!
Hail, Einar! Hail, Einar!
Stop rowing.
Oars down!
- Hail, Einar. - Hail, Ragnar.
I give thanks to Odin for your safe return.
- Well, where is she? - Where's who?
Who do you think I mean your little friend with the pigtails?
Oh, stop shouting. You sound like a moose giving birth to a hedgehog.
- Einar! - Get this grain ashore.
I wanna know why you missed the wench you were sent to bring back.
- I didn't miss her. - Where is she?
Ah...
A little skinny, perhaps, but not bad. Not bad at all.
Restrain yourself, my lord.
If she is dishonoured, she'll be worthless
as a queen and Aella won't pay ransom for her.
I don't need traitors to plead my cause.
My quarrel is with Aella, lady, not with you.
We were all agreed you would be unharmed while you remained with us.
- Remember that, Einar. Leave her alone. - I haven't touched her... yet.
And you never will. I'd kill myself first.
- Ah. She doesn't seem to like you. - She likes me well enough.
I doubt it, from the looks of her.
So do I.
- But the time will come. - Never.
Never?
You like the scars on my face, don't you, hm?
Sure, my beauty stirs her little heart.
You have better luck with falcons. She'll never call you dainty-face!
Any objections?
Of course not, my lord. He's just a slave.
- Let's go ashore and take her along. - She stays here.
We'll talk about her again, when you're more drunk or more sober.
Olaf! Anchor the boat out on the fjord. And guard her well.
Ah, come. You'll soon forget the wench.
- She's too skinny anyhow. - She's beautiful.
Ah, all the bones sticking out, she's an old crow with all the feathers pulled out.
She said she'd kill herself if I touched her.
They all say that. What they really mean is they'll kill themselves if you don't.
Maybe, but I've never had one spit on me and bite.
Huh! They'll bite all the more now that you're Einar One-Eye.
I wanted to thank you for proving me innocent.
Go back to your husband.
Come. Drink. No one woman is worth all this fuss.
Well, my lady, as terrible as this captivity is,
at least we should be thankful that so far our honour has been spared.
Yes, Bridget, we have that to be thankful for.
Strange how things never turn out the way you expect.
I always thought Vikings attacked their women.
We've been very lucky.
It hasn't been due entirely to luck, Bridget.
He can't help the way he acts. He's a pagan, my lady.
- He's a mad dog. - Well...
If it weren't for the scars on his face, he'd be rather nice looking.
Oh, for a Viking, I mean.
I don't want to talk about him.
Scratches and bites won't hold him off for ever.
What a son!
How about my mother?
Tell me, did my mother fight you?
Ah, did she fight me?
I have the scars of her scratches and bites all over me.