AUTHOR’S FOREWORD

Alfred’s third war is reasonably well recorded. Two fleets attacked his lands. The larger fleet of 200 ships by an unnamed king, the smaller fleet of 80 ships by an enemy named Haestan. There is little known of Haestan save the short references in the Chronicles that describe Alfred’s final war.

There was no major or decisive engagement like Ethandun in 878. Instead there are apparently confusing accounts of armies marching all about the land to no apparent or clear plan. Great generals like Alfred ought not just be judged by the results of engagements with their enemies. Wars can be won by avoiding decisive actions. This was demonstrated by the Roman general Fabius and in his refusal to engage with Hannibal. It seems to me that Alfred did something like this in his final wars. He adapted and he confused his opponents. Eventually they left with no gain from all their efforts. You do not need a decisive battle victory to achieve a decisive war victory. Alfred died soon after these final struggles but he had laid secure foundations for the eventual unification of England.
His opponents in this war were as vicious as any others he had faced but the old fox had become quite wily so the invaders were, it seemed foredoomed to fail.

I have made Haestan vicious and vengeful. As a casualty of the battle of Ashdown he has a head injury that causes him to become mute and to have amnesia. (Some of my descriptions here are based on my recovering from a head injury and the sensations I experienced at the time.)
After years of toil as a slave his memory returns and he promises Odhinn and Thor a sacrifice of the “first of these people” he meets after he has escaped. A small girl crosses his path and he kills her as this sacrifice.

His is a soul in conflict between avenging wrongs done him by the English and his heathen belief system which is divided between his initial following of the Vanir or nature god, Freyr, and his developing devotion to the more warring spirits of Odhinn, Thor and Tyr.

No man in a constant state of internal conflict can find an easy road to happiness or indeed any road to happiness. His life is lived through wrath and through unfulfilled desires and in effect he ends up ineffectual in all save survival against dire odds.

Trevor Morgan
Rockwell Green 2007

Wessex Sagas
SAGA OF A DARKENED SOUL
The Saga of Alfred and Haestan

Prologue

Two Very Different Boys Grew Up

Two boys grew up, became grown men
Now one of them became a king
He drowned strong foes in some dank fen
The other boy he went Viking [2]

With eighty ships he went to raid
And plunder this king’s land
He thought his gods would lend their aid
But their ways none could understand

He followed every sacred rite
Gave sacrifice of blood and gore
These rites they lasted many a night
Besides a cold deep fjord shore

Two boys as men they never met
Though they were mired in war and strife
Their armies fought and blood was let
In yet more pointless loss of life

Now hostages are good for trade
You get gold if you hand them back
Now if a contract can’t be made
Their heads come off with one swift hack

The King, the Viking fought and fought
The Viking lost the final fight
At end no vengeance could be wrought
All ended with a headlong flight

The king victorious tired and died
Most his kin wept beside his grave
His dry-eyed daughter never cried
This green-eyed girl was firm and brave

The Viking sailed the dark cold sea
He sailed to north and then to east
Some say his soul’s still wandering free
And that his bloodline has increased

Some say his line, the Rus, now live
In cold far flat lands to the east
That they’ve now learned how to forgive
And all their wrath and rage has ceased

Though fanciful this may be so
They fought and failed and then were gone
They left bereft and full of woe
They left their foe no longer wan

Saga of a Darkened Soul – The Saga of Alfred and Haestan

The Slaves of Rage

Hot rage is soon burned out the mind is cleared
And so returns the cold clear light of day.
But cold rage of the soul ought be well feared,
For raging men themselves becomes its prey.
Cold rage when it controls the hearts of men
It has a way to justify all wrong.
When men remain a slave to it, it’s then
They go to where such rage filled folk belong.
They go upon a tour of Purgatory.
They purge themselves with their own rage and hate.
The wrathful on themselves are predatory.
They drain themselves and seal their own sad fate.
Though slaves of rage bring havoc to a land
They lose to little things they may not understand.

The Bull of Ashdown

A sickly Atheling stood in rank
He was the youngest son
He seemed so pale and thin and lank
Yet how that lad could run

The Army that Ingvar had led
Had come into their land
The might of Mercia now had fled
So horrors were at hand

The last of seven realms of old
This realm now stood alone
The Ashdown morning dews were cold
And fear chilled to the bone

The main block of the Wessex men
Formed in a static wall
The Danes prepared to charge them then
And see this last land fall

But Atheling Alfred saw a gap
And led his men downhill
Sometimes a chance falls in your lap
And winning brings a thrill

Convention had been thrown aside
Old ways had led to loss
There’s luck upon this young man’s side
And blood on his shield boss

Sling shot and arrow, axe and spear
Came at Danes from their flank
At last these Danes were now taught fear
Taught by an Atheling pale and lank [7]

Injury and Forgetfulness

A single slingshot knocked him out
His battle ended there
He was not slaughtered in the rout
So he would know despair

His mind it took him off afar
Away from this defeat
He seemed before some radiant star
All bright but with no heat

He seemed to float he seemed all warm
It seemed someone was there
But he could not discern their form
And yet he did not care

He hoped a Valkyrie might come
And not dark Lady Hel
He felt subdued he felt all numb
Was he held in some spell?

His soul seemed like a sparrow now
And fluttered round about
That light it seemed alive somehow
He tried but could not shout

Was he now in a void somewhere?
Was this where dead souls go?
He heard faint music on the air
So he swayed to and fro

There seemed all rhythm in this place
All here seemed vague yet firm
Was he now in some mystic space?
Where he would seethe and squirm

And yet he felt contentment here
This place it held allure
For it was free of hope, of fear
And all here seemed secure

Far off he heard the faintest sound
Where he lay cold and still
As battle raged there all around
Upon that open hill

But all of this seemed faint and far
And battered brains conceal
So much of what we really are
And brains take long to heal

When he awoke he would not know
Who he was or his name
But where he lay he knew not woe
Nor understood his shame

Light from that star it shone through him
He basked there in its glow
About him Death stalked dark and grim
But how was he to know

His head it bled he seemed as dead
Friends died there all about
This did not reach inside his head
Where he now roamed about

The dreamscape of his mind seemed real
All there seemed so complete
The mind has ways it may conceal
And act out some deceit

Most memories had got hid away
Much got concealed from him
They would return some distant day
Before then life was grim.

His body lay there on the field
Amongst the slaughtered Danes
He lay all day there part concealed
Death-like he felt no pains

For in his mind there was that light
That light from that cold source
And phantoms passed before his sight
And then he felt some force

The phantoms would not speak at all
The light it was that spoke
In tones that seemed to rise then fall
It prophesied the yoke

“You will not know the man you are
Till time come near to run
Alone you’ll wander long and far
Towards the summer sun

You must go north and then go east
Where old kin you may find
Your foe will know you for a beast
Though one Norn may prove kind

I, Freyr, ought now tutor you
Within your gloomy soul
Whilst memories may stay hid from you
Your body will stay whole

The Aesirs they form just a part
Of powers you ought know
You have a mind yet lack a heart
You lack that tender glow

We Vanirs from this day will see
Your life’s not brief nor long
The Norns have shown us what will be
They know that you’ll be strong

But mist now of forgetfulness
Will wrap around your mind
Through toil and rage and dark distress
You will cease to be kind

The weakest things defeat the strong
Sweet kindness kills old rage
Forgiveness can defeat great wrong
When Midgard comes of age”

The light of Freyr it seemed to fade
A fog closed Haestan’s mind
Some voice said “He’ll be good to trade”
Then life became unkind…

The Past Got Lost

Each memory is a wispish glow
That drifts about like mist
Devoid of them men know but woe
Fate gives her knife a twist

There is no hate in this dull state
All vistas now seem new
The spirit and the soul stagnate
From nought, nought may ensue

Men herded him like some tame beast
Blood matted all his hair
Confusions mounted and increased
He had the blankest stare

He gazed from out an empty void
All here seems strange and new
Some ranting men seem quite annoyed
Then passed from out his view

Now noises here seem all about
He felt this meant a lot
Yet all about were clouds of doubt
As most had been forgot

Apart from this his mind just span
His senses seemed so dim
He felt that he was Odhinn’s man
Thor seemed to care for him

Now all that Freyr could hide away
Was hidden in his mind
His emptiness began that day
Slaves toil and life’s a grind

The Captives

The trade in captive men is sound
It yields a good return
Strong slaves get traded all around
Especially those who learn

“This heathen has a damaged head
He’s mute yet gentle too
He’ll work long years before he’s dead
And he’ll work hard for you”

Quite unaware of all his past
Haestan worked through each day
The years moved on until at last
Freyr’s mist would fade away

This happened one night as he slept
Some loud noise wakened him
He knew not why, but how he wept,
For all about seemed grim

Glastonbury Burns

The slave he worked at his dull chore
He heard some slave girl cry
And as he gazed towards the Tor
Smoke rose up in the sky

And all about some panic rose
The strangest things got said
He caught some scent he stood he froze
As pain raged through his head

Faint phantoms flitted through his brain
They rose, they glowed, they shone
Good voices chanted some refrain
That in a trice were gone
Confused he fell upon one knee
His aching head hung low
There in the lea of some ash tree
He felt a strange warm glow

Where churches burn then war is near
And Glastonbury now blazed
These folk about him wailed with fear
But Haestan just felt dazed

One day some Danes passed so forlorn
They seemed all tame and cowed
Their clothes were drab and wet and torn
And to their foe they bowed

He heard one say at Dundon Hill
Foul Loki blocked their way [11]
This god they said by his dark will
Had made them lose the day

One said that Njord had brought them low
He’d seen men swept away
This haunted land that seem aglow,
Here Vanirs hold their sway

And neither Odhinn now nor Thor
Could help for Hope’s all done
They seemed enmeshed in some dark lore
In all the yarns they spun

They talked of strange worlds of the lost
Of Death and its allure
Defeat it bears the saddest cost
Faith fails, all’s insecure

Serving at Table

He served at table in some hall
He served defeated men
He went about at beck and call
All seemed beyond his ken

His face looked blank, his mind a mask
His looks were dumb and dull
He mutely did his every task
Before a storm’s - a lull

Defeated men they went their way
All cowed by their defeat
Inside his mind Rage turned at bay
And Wrath slow gained some heat

Slow Dawn

Remembering all was, oh, so slow
Things came just bit-by-bit
A glimpse, a glint he came to know
But was not sure of it

A name would come perhaps a face
With vagueness all about
He did recall a special place
But all seemed clothed in doubt

A woman’s face he saw one night
Her scent aroused in him
A rage about his present plight
His lot was hard and grim

So slowly she became so real
She had once been his wife
He felt a love that hurt to feel
It wrenched his soul with strife

What was her name where was she now?
How he yearned deep within
He heard the words of some old vow
He seemed to faint and spin

A slave there said he’d had a fit
His tongue now bled and hurt
His clothes were soaked with blood and spit
And he lay in the dirt

The pains within his head were cruel
He raised himself to spew
He threw up all his bread and gruel
Dear Gods - there were things that he knew… [13]

The Mute May Listen

Remaining mute he listened now
He noted what was said
He’d flee from out this place somehow
Yes, he’d be free or dead

Free of the yoke of slavery
Yes, free out of this land
He dreamed great feats of bravery
He listened and he planned

He stayed to learn this folk’s strange ways
To find where they were weak
He picked up chance words through those days
Before a mute - men speak!

And these folk here spoke of their king
Of how he trapped his foe
They spoke of many a detailed thing
Things that might bring them low

And Haestan then would note it all
Remembering what was said
With what he learned he’d see them fall
He’d see this land well bled

Well bled and drained of all its wealth
How they might feel his sting
But he knew not the guile and stealth
Of their deceptive king

That King who passed him by when here
That King who seemed so frail
That King who taught Old Gudrum fear
Haestan would fight – but fail

Dark Crime and Escape

Though Freyr had hoped to reach this man
To turn his back on ire
Though Vanirs may reach those they can
Some good plans turn to mire

A Vanir may have saved his life
Saved him but at such cost
He’d lived through so much deadly strife
Stood mute whilst Gudrum lost

He felt Vanirs betrayed his hope
Stole his pure destiny
For weeks he seemed to fade, to mope
Though he schemed to be free

To Odhinn and to Thor he prayed
At night when locked away
Inside he raged a dark tirade
Though he worked mute each day

And so a cold man driven to hate
Had learn his lesson well
This fact his sad foes learn too late
When sorrow tolled a knell

Remembering Then Embittered

For so much time he’d been their slave
Reviled and spat upon
But his heart now was stout and brave
He did not now fell wan

He’d been a guardsman for a king
His king died in a fray
Then shot struck Haestan from a sling
On that dark dismal day

Unconscious he was captured there
He came too bound in rope
His life got burdened down by care
Now he’d rekindle hope

He seemed to find his voice but now
Concealed this from all men
He knew he ought escape somehow
From this place and this fen

He knew that death could take away
The power his captors had
They worked him long hours every day
A cold rage turned him mad

Some nights he prayed to Lady Hel
To set his wild soul free
The ways of gods none may foretell
So he sought ways to flee

In prayer to Odhinn and to Thor
He sought great strength for strife
His fervour and his faith now bore
A keen edge like some knife

Freyr’s Test

Not all that’s sacrificed is right
A sweet child ought be safe
None ought be harmed by rage or spite
Nor left as stray or waif

The Cycle of a Faith

One day in every seven here
He’d faced their Christian charm
He kept from folk the wondrous cheer
He’d get if he could harm

Each foe who caused him such disgrace
Who’d put him through such shame
He’d learned the lay of this old place
So he’d try his endgame

The curfew bell tolled end of day
When toil of day was done
‘Twas just the time he’d get away
He took off at a run

He’d worked besides the river there
It flowed swift dark and deep
He prayed the water gods might care
As he prepared to leap

His foe they thought their slave had drowned
They saw some bubbles rise
A few had cheered and none had frowned
For none who watched were wise

He could swim far could hold his breath
He swam against the flow
His freedom brought both grief and death
His rage then caused deep woe

He’d sworn that pledge to sacrifice
The first foe that he met
His dark soul was as cold as ice
A child redeemed that debt

A little girl had crossed his way
He cut her slender throat
He left her dead upon that day
And then he stole a boat

Foul sacrifice it now was made
How could this please Asgard?
Such dark deeds all ought be forbade
None ought be cold and hard

The Weeping Vanir

In Asgard Freyr wept out loud
That child had caused no harm
Aesirs to him seemed over proud
Their wrath caused such alarm

His fate he knew was tied with them
And with them he must die
Child slaughter all Vanirs condemn
So Freyr could not cease to cry

It’s he makes nature bountiful
He loves each tiny thing
All life to him is beautiful
For him the thrush must sing

At harvest time great bounty flows
For Freyr brings our land good cheer
With war and rage there’s no repose
And all are ruled by fear

And now some oath had killed a child
In Thor and Odhinn’s name
Now goodly Freyr turned dark and wild
Haestan he ought now tame.

Freyr would seek out devious ways
To see Haestan would fail
He’d stalk him now throughout his days
Make him live ‘til he’s and frail

He’d see he’d have no hero’s death
See Asgard closed to him
And then there at his dying breath
See that his end be grim

But Loki watched sad Freyr there
And Loki too could plan
For Loki feeds on dark despair
Brings altered thoughts to man

For Loki loathed what would not change
Mischief and change are him
The order dear Freyr sought seemed strange
All seemed too pure too prim

So Haestan then became a pawn
A toy for feuding gods
It’s for this, men of wrath are born
And few defy the odds

When two conflicting powers rage
Deep in a man’s dark mind
He turns a deaf ear to the sage
And is to conscience blind

Funeral Sermon

“It’s Lucifer,” the old priest said
“He hates each hapless child
He ought be held in darkest dread
His ways are harsh and wild

That murdering slave must have been him
That creature could not drown
For Lucifer he kills at whim
He yearns to bring us down

Although great horrors are about
And Danes may be his kin
In God have faith, shed now all doubt
Through Christ we know we win

This single act this single crime
Reminds us of God’s Grace
For God will judge all in his time
And purge the low and base…”

The daughter of a king stood there
Inside she was afire
She looked so sweet with neat-combed hair
But her soul filled with ire

The priest proceeded words flowed out
She railed against this fate
All statue like devoid of doubt
Her heart here learned to hate!

So Aethelflaed stood by her king
Her strange and lovely dad
Now grief too is the strangest thing
It makes us strong or mad

The gritty soul of this small child
Would help her fight the Danes
Though they rage all about so wild
She would seize back their gains

For now she stood here with dry eyes
She held her daddy’s hand
She looked to him as good and wise
She loved him and this land

She’d listen to her father well
Throughout the next few years
And at his craft she would excel
Cause foe to shed their tears

Unforgiving Beast

His gods had got his sacrifice
And they would get more yet
Enslaving him, it has a price
And he’d redeemed the debt

He travelled off towards northeast
Towards where Danes might live
That slave seemed as a slavering beast
And beasts do not forgive

A Conscience Makes Men Craven

It’s conscience now we all must know
Makes craven any man
Resolve is gone, all’s ebb and flow
They dither they don’t plan!

Resolve is best in hearts turned cold
Turned cold and dark and grim
Yet Haestan was to prove too bold
Wrath’s rage burned hot in him

His passion not his intellect
Would guide him in his strife
When foes don’t do as you expect
Wrath might cost you your life

He loved his woman to the full
He loathed his soulless foe
His rage was like some raging bull
He yearned to strike a blow

He fled east there across that land
Then north into Danelaw
When freedom then seemed close at hand
A new dark oath he swore

He swore that if he lived he’d fight
He’d come back to this land
He’d show these folk the darkest spite
And kill them out of hand

He’d wreck a vengeance burn with fire
Make this land black with ash
He’d live his life through wrath and ire
His rage all bold but rash

For goshawk like it was his way
To aim straight and to go
Directly at his sought for prey
And swoop down all aglow

It seemed he raged but had not guile
His strategies all clear
The like of him the wise beguile
His rage might not cause fear

His raging dreams gave him a thrill
But dreams are dreams not more
Freyr it seemed would work his will
Against Odhinn and Thor

In time he got to his own kind
Half starved but free at last
He laughed like one who’d lost his mind
His darkest times seemed past

He took a ship across the sea
To take up his old life
It seemed as though he was now free
And he yearned for his wife

Half a Husband

Sometimes it seemed he was not there
Though he was by her side
Oft times he had an empty stare
She’d not seen as his bride

He tossed and turned much in his sleep
Asleep he’d talk at night
Or groan or moan or oft times weep
She yearned to ease his plight

But who can reach a damaged soul
Oh, who can mend a mind?
Or make a wounded psyche whole
Oh, why is life unkind

Her lovely groom seemed broken now
She cherished what she had
Abiding by her wedding vow
She stayed strong yet seemed sad

She thought of all that might have been
Had those past wars been won
What dreadful sights had her man seen
What dark deeds had he done?

She was with child within one moon
She was so filled by Hope
She hoped that Haestan might mend soon
For he now seemed to cope

But he talked most about that land
Where he had been a thrall [15]
Now day and night he schemed and planned
To bring about its fall

He thought he knew that strange land well
Men talk before a mute
Their king at cunning might excel
He might well be astute

But Haestan now knew all he did
He knew that Gewisse’s [16] way
Enslaved he’d done all he was bid
But now he’d have his day

Unforgiving Man

His gods would get more sacrifice
Blood eagled foe die slow
All Alfred’s lands would pay the price
He would bring them fresh woe

Variously Tyrannous

Now tyrants are a varied lot
They come in many a hue
So look inside that heart you’ve got
There may be one in you

And tyrants may not see therein
The way their victims do
And so for them each extra sin
Does not cause them to rue

They oft times start to learn their art
With one small nasty deed
And as they get a colder heart,
Well, then, they will proceed

Across a land they cause such blight
They leave good souls to yearn
They do this with a clear foresight
They plunder and they burn

Winner’s Truth

To every tale there are two sides
Two truths in every war
The winner’s tale, now that abides,
Where victors are secure

Impose your truth impose your will
Now winners they do those
Now those who win are those who kill
And their truths they impose

A sacred truth can well be lost
Where vanquished men spoke true
Defeated folk they bear this cost
And truth is sent askew

Haestan’s Soul

Haestan was just a sinful man
All men are filled with sin
He’d strive, he’d scheme, he’d dream, he’d plan
Like all he sought to win

If Haestan was in fact the beast
Then all men may be so
Until the flow of time is ceased
It seems men live through woe

His heart was stout his soul was strong
He fought because he must
Avenge what he saw as a wrong
Where hopes had turned to dust

Like all he justified each deed
All arson and each death
He hoped to make a whole land bleed
Until his final breath

With help he rallied many men
Who dreamed they’d gain great wealth
But they all failed in these dreams when
Their foe used guile and stealth

Folk Lore

Much lore is not a barefaced lie
Myths may contain some gem
Some nostrum that folk might apply
That maybe might help them

And tales of wealth and tales of gain
Leads men to rove and raid
It matters not they might cause pain
So long as they get paid

And putting right some old past wrong
Can justify it all
It’s easy for the young and strong
To answer each such call

And myths were wove and tales got told
As men prepared for war
To brave young men who may be bold
This holds a strange allure

They feel enduring as some ash
But trees outlive the young
But even trees in time will crash
And rot away unsung

Rosemary for Rememberings

Thank Rosemary for remembering
All that was done by spite
There may be some a trembling
Before a wrong’s put right

Gathering and Deploying Forces

Ambition is a wondrous thing
That can sweep men along
Hopes fly but on a fragile wing
But who cares when you’re strong

Young fit strong men who hear the call
Feel they are near divine
And few expect that they might fall
And all expect to shine

They dream about each clash and fight
They do not dream they’ll die
Ambition leads men to such height
It seems they touch the sky

The Serpent Ships

The serpents there on each ships’ prow
Rose high with each wave crest
And then each serpent seemed to bow
As they rode to the west

Landing and Building the Forts

Now Haestan brought good smiths along
And carpenters of skill
He built two forts secure and strong
Then sought to fight, to kill

Seeking Plunder, Finding Uncertainty

Ambitions are a risky thing
They may lead men astray
Or help a man become a king
Or die and rot away

The young, the hope filled rush to war
There’s glory and there’s gain
When they get to that foreign shore
All’s gory with great pain

A childhood friend is soon cut down
His guts spilled on the earth
There’s not much here of great renown
Nor is there much of worth

The foes appear then melt away
Pursuit seems all in vain
And then upon another day
The foes appear again

Three years of indecisiveness
Of stratagem and ploy
Leaves hopes congealed into some mess
No vengeance means no joy

Ambition was a pointless thing
Once hope had gone astray
Despondency it has a sting
This causes most decay

Losing To the Foe Within

For those who seek they may well find
Where their intent is pure
But lack of gain becomes a grind
And leaves all insecure

Haestan had learned of Alfred’s way
Who fought Gudrum and won
But this now seemed another day
His good plans came undone

No sacrifice improved the odds
Blood eagling altered nought
All seemed abandoned by the gods
When signs from them were sought

And Freyr came often to his dreams
When Haestan slept at night
As Freyr worked his ways, his schemes
He sought to set things right

Freyr he likes things that are mild
So he came in disguise
Appearing as a small girl child
All blood soaked yet all wise

Each night the child asked for her life
That Haestan took away
His mind became all torn with strife
Each night and then each day

That little girl came in each dream
Grey ashen smeared with blood
She knelt beside that brackish stream
Then sank down on the mud

“My name is Osburg” she would say
“My Mummy weeps aloud,
Why did you cut my throat that day?
Do such things make you proud?

Odhinn All Father weeps as well
Thor sees such things as vice
He hopes you’re claimed by Lady Hel
And her sad realm of ice

And Fri, dear Fri must always cry
Should she now hear your name
Ah, hear the west wind hear it sigh
It sings of guilt and blame

You’re now a blemish and you blight
The progress of your kind
What once was good has turned to spite
All’s darkness in your mind”

Repeated Dreams

The child would rise from out that mud
She’d flit through every dream
He’d try to wash away that blood
In that cold awful stream

But water there it all was red
Both his hands bore that stain
The nagging child remained quite dead
As he got steeped in pain

Each hardest man or hardest heart
Or man of wrath and war
May see their strength seep and depart
May face this fatal chore

In time your deeds catch up with you
The mind gets in a spin
Dream times present the direst view
For conscience it must win!

The god of joy the god of hope
Of bounty and of life
Leaves murdering men to sag and mope
Plants in their souls, dark strife

And some may face it their life long
And some may end their life
The souls of men are truly strong
If they survive such strife.

Defeat Within

Each Soul may have its darker side
Its torment and its pain
Some sink beneath their bloated pride
Or hide some secret stain

All at some time may act the liar
In part all may seem grim
Some souls contain the darkest ire
Haestan had much in him

An oath, a promise, easy made
A child so easy killed
But after rage and dark tirade
The soul may then be chilled

He feared he’d hurt his children too
He learned self-loathing well
In all of this there’s nothing new
There’s hosts like him with Hel

Now Hel she has an icy realm
Haestan could know that place
For guilt we know must overwhelm
The foul, the low, the base

And foul and low and base he seemed
His dreams tormented so
It mattered not how well he schemed
He failed against one foe

His self-belief it slowly went
His hope it would recede
For guilt within may not relent
When haunted by one deed

Losing to the Foe Outwith

Haestan had thought he knew this foe
These beasts that served the Cross
His war was long all ebb and flow
Illusion leads to loss

For Alfred knew how to adapt
Deception was his way
He lured then got his foes entrapped
Once caught he made them pay

The River Lea became a snare
Where Haestan lost his ship
But flight as rapid as the hare
Saw Haestan make his slip

An empty Roman town was then
Used as a base by him
But lack of food drove him on when
Starvation turned things grim

Long roads they travelled mile on mile
All plunder gained was lost
He failed in every game of guile
And his force bore the cost

Depleted by this ebb and flow
Endurance seemed to fade
Cold vengeance leads most souls to woe
And his woe was self-made

Puzzlement Fades

He made himself a good defence
At Bridgenorth to the west
His wrath continued dark immense
All hardship seemed a test

He offered sacrifices to
His gods and still they slept
This many berserks seemed to rue
And many berserks wept

And alder trees seemed all about
Where Saxons camped at night
And none would care to share a rout
By Vanirs and their spite

If not by woods by water then [19]
Their foe would bivouac
And water spirits of each fen
Sent his men reeling back

It seemed the Vanirs ruled this land
As old Gudrum once said
No Aesir ever seemed at hand
There slowly rose cold dread

Cold agéd Njord he has a son
And Freyr is his name
Through him it was the foe had won
And Haestan took some blame

Attack, defence, they both had failed
All faded to illusion
From failures it seemed he ailed
As war lead to conclusion

The Draining Of Desires to Avenge

Men may desire what’s out of reach
But all in time may learn
And failing Hopes have much to teach
At end most cease to yearn

As hunger gnaws at each mans gut
Self-righteousness must wane
It’s hard for starving souls to strut
With bellies gnawed by pain

Guile

Cold guile does not fall to rage
It’s rage that falls to guile
This is the same in every age
Though guileful men be vile

Defeated wrath fades far from sight
A woeful cause now lost
It mattered not its strength or might
Rage often bears this cost

Bridgenorth and Defeat

The slaughter at Bridgenorth
Was not just some mishap
It seemed their foe that caused this woe
Had set for them a trap

The Long Retreats

He stopped, he slumped, his feet they hurt
This march had been so long
His legs were flecked with dust and dirt
His plans had all gone wrong

Most of their horses they had ate
Still hunger gnawed them here
The Norns dictate our every fate
And death it seemed was near

He fell into a fitful sleep
Besides the winding road
He seemed to twitch, to moan, to weep
Like one who bore a load

But he had brought himself to this
His wrath had caused his woe
What vengeful quest can lead to bliss
Against a wily foe?

Stars That Night

Good stars were there on that dark night
As they put out to sea
In that dark sky they glistened bright
The land was to the lee

They heaved on oars for several hours
The wind it veered about
They seemed protected by some powers
They had survived a rout

But Haestan knew that Saxon king
Would write of his disgrace
They’d make his name a loathsome thing
They’d call him low and base

Though perjurers may perjure well
A lie is still a lie
He prayed his foe go to their hell
To torment when they die

They say their God will judge each soul
And purge them when they’re dead
They think souls burn in some dark hole
Their God is Love, it’s said

But how can Love quite act this way?
It seemed the strangest fate
Though those who wrong they ought to pay
Torment ought come from Hate

What Love can cause eternal pain?
What Love in afterlife
Can seek to get some twisted gain
To see that pain is rife

His life long he might not yet know
Or want the Christian creed
‘Twas Christians caused him pain and woe
But he had made some bleed

He knew they’d darken his true name
They’d demonise him too
Defeat comes with that gift called ‘blame’
But what here could he do?

He stood and called a curse aloud
He cursed King Alfred’s name
His undefeated soul was proud
And he could feel no shame

“May your bloodline know shame as well
And may your house decline
I pray that you go to your hell
As I must go to mine”

Onwards

A hope arose amongst that crew
This few would reach their land
And many dreamed of what they’d do
And as they dreamed they planned.

Driven Northwards by a Gale

A meteor shower lit up the sky
Each man heaved on his oar
It seemed as if the gods might die
Right here so far from shore

And far from shore in this cold sea
Great monsters loomed afar
These beasts of ice were floating free
Beneath the cold North Star

All insecure we heaved each oar
Each soul was filled with dread
Those giants of ice held no allure
Now sore hands ached and bled

Through blood and pain we’d heave and strain
Great strength comes from great fear
But all this pain achieved no gain
Great towers of ice loomed near

And mountain like these giants seemed
With ridge and crest and peak
Here nightmares were now lived not dreamed
And all was cold and bleak

Old tales of dread were known not said
Of giants who fight the gods
The last of courage soon had fled
For who can face such odds

These giants of ice it seemed they slept
They drifted by inert
In desperation some men wept
Ah, how our bodies hurt

We shipped our oars we worked as one
The ships main sail was spread
For long days we’d not seen the sun
To south the sky seemed red

That redness though was just a glow
These seas seemed ruled by night
Long darkness fills men’s souls with woe
And fear’s a ghastly blight

And fear it was now stalked each man
This place seemed filled with ire
And then a torrid scene began
The north sky filled with fire

Great flames reared in that northern sky
We saw land eerie red
It seemed as if Midgard might die
The ice, the fire, brought dread

It seemed this was where Loki dwelt
We heard a distant roar
No man could think but all here felt
Dread for this fiery shore

A wind came up and bore us on
Towards that shore ablaze
Like doomed souls now we all were wan
And all seemed in a haze

Now slowly then a mist arose
We heard surf on some shore
The ship it jerked and all there froze
The bowman gave a roar

“We’re on a sand bar I see fire
A mountain burns afar
This shore looks like some marshy mire
And we’re on some sand bar”

Our seaman’s instincts came to play
We toiled hard and with skill
We beached our ship in some small bay
The cold night air was chill

We stayed there for a week or more
And then we saw the sun
And so we left that awesome shore
But our dark times weren’t done

We sailed away towards southeast
That way we thought was best
But our dark trials had not yet ceased
Is all of life a test?

Storms drove us eastward all seemed lost
Long days we prayed and bailed
Sea spray it froze to us like frost
One maddened man then wailed

“Odhinn all father save us now
I give myself to you”
He threw himself from off the bow
And swiftly sank from view

A silent awe went round the crew
The storm seemed to abate
Strange are the deeds some men may do
Where gods control our Fate

After the Gale

“The sun then rose above the bow
We had lived through the gale
The gods it seems are with us now
So let us rig the sail

The waves still crest all white with foam
Shearwaters glide on by
The cold dark seas may be their home
Beneath this sombre sky

Last night we saw vast giants of ice
To west across the sea
We turned to east then in a trice
Wise men know when to flee

We fled before those monstrous things
The great foes of all hope
The cloying fear each giant brings
In seas where few may cope

With Dragon prows now in the sun
Our fear may ebb at last
The past is gone bad times are done
And this great sea is vast

This wind ought bear us on to land
Yes, new lands and good cheer
Perchance some better times at hand
Good fortune may be near”

Beside The Old Grave

Haestan stood at his father’s grave
He’d stood and felt dismayed
Long years ago he’d felt so brave
Right here he felt betrayed

His young hopes had all gone awry
He now felt old and bleak
Old joyous thoughts now made him cry
He seemed all wan and weak

His fists he clenched with knuckles white
His knees slumped to the earth
The welling tears now blocked his sight
He felt he had no worth

A worthless thing a pointless man
Self-loathing rose in him
He knew he’d soon live out his span
Death seemed so sweet not grim

For Death at last might take away
The burdens that he bore
Hope left him on this fateful day
When life lost all allure

The Eastern Priest

An eastern priest came to the hall
Of Haestan’s only son
Leaves flurried by him this cold fall
As this damp day was done

The sun had set and light grew dim
The great hearth fire burned bright
The priest he seemed content not grim
His flowing beard was white

This Byzantine he wore no sign
No crucifix nor charm
He was content he seemed so fine
For here he feared no harm

For several years he’d come this way
This good and kindly Greek
Each year he came upon this day
But left within the week

The Black sea and the White he knew
He journeyed far and wide
His Bishop gave him tasks to do
For where he went he spied

His task was to prepare a way
That his old faith [20] might grow
In this dark place on this cold day
He felt the strangest glow

An old man with a deep scared head
Sat by the fireside glow
That firelight was the palest red
The old man pale with woe

The good Greek sat long days with him
They talk long hours night
Haestan told tale of wars so grim
And of each former plight

Haestan’s Guilt, Haestan’s Remorse

He talked of how he’d been a slave
And how he had got free
He’d seen men die who had been brave
Seen thing no man ought see

He told that Greek of his night mares
Of sins none may recant
This sad old man born down by cares
Had found his confidant

The Byzantine was shocked at first
This old man seemed depraved
How could his soul not be accursed?
Yet sinners can be saved

He learned how Haestan had been hurt
How he had been enslaved
And treated just like filth, like dirt
By men who were depraved

Though sin he knew begets more sin
Christ says all ought forgive
Atonement saves the soul within
And help the soul to live

To live eternal in true grace
To face a judgement day
This old man knew his dark disgrace
He ought be shown the way

The Greek told Haestan of the time
When Christ was crucified
Of that foul thief who lived by crime
Left men all mystified

The thief it was who saw the wrong
That was done on that day
The thief it was whose faith was strong
And so was shown the way

Christ did not come for lord nor king
He came for troubled souls
That they might hear the angels sing
For Christ alone consoles

That Greek consoled an aging man
And Haestan found true Grace
The sands of time they swiftly ran
He soon died in that place

He had not come to save a soul
That Greek priest was a spy
But as he left he felt more whole
And had to stop to cry

It seemed he helped a tortured mind
And saved a soul from hell
Till then he felt he had been blind
But who was he to tell?

It seems it’s God alone who says
Who will be called to him
He is not saved who simple prays
To hide a soul that’s grim

Alfred beside the Old Grave

He’d stood beside his father’s grave
He’d stood and felt quite wry
Long years ago he’d felt so brave
Right here he had to sigh

The ways of God none understand
He felt quite weak and old
He knew his end was close at hand
He shook but not with cold

His young hopes had not come about
Fate made of him a king
He’d lived by faith, defeated doubt
Ah, Death where is thy sting

With open hands he prayed aloud
He thanked God for his life
His people bloodied but unbowed
Had lived through all that strife

“Dear God I thank you, you are wise
All wisdom comes from you
From total rout you helped us rise
Show my son what to do

Do guide my kin to do what’s right
May they do as you say
And in your name resist dark spite
Until your judgement day”

This worthy and this canny man
Survived through times so grim
He knew he’d soon live out his span
This held no fear for him

For Death at last might take away
The burdens that he bore
Hopes filled him on this winters day
Yet life still held allure

Now even kings return to dust
For all of us must die
And so Death came just as it must
Beneath a sombre sky

The Mystery of God

Whilst thieves get borne to paradise
Through purgatory good souls must drudge
It seems the smallest sin’s a vice
And who knows how our God may Judge

Whilst Alfred prayed and worshipped well
How would souls who died in each war
Greet him in heaven where they may dwell?
None know their fate none are secure

God could call Haestan up to grace
Despite his ways all cruel and grim
God will choose each his final place
And none of us may challenge him

From Edington some dead young men
Whose souls in Heaven with God now dwell
May curse King Alfred’s poor soul when
He’s purged and see him sent to Hell

For who knows how our God may Judge
The souls of all men who must die
For all through purgatory must trudge
Of God no man may question ‘Why?’

Alfred’s Line

So Alfred died we all needs must
His son became the king
For dust in time returns to dust
Yet skylarks love to sing

They sing on high above each down
They sing to gain a mate
Is all ordained and is all planned
Or are we pawns of Fate?

Edward his son fought war on war
Reconquest was so slow
Yes, Alfred’s line gained more and more
But all would turn to woe.

All bloodlines may beget a fool,
An evil soul or knave
With kings this leads to foul misrule
Then poor folk must be brave

There is a tide in all affairs
For all there’s ebb and flow
In time misfortune would be theirs
But how were they to know?

Praying To Be Saved

Where some men kill through their dark rage
And some slay for a creed
When drained of blood, when drained of life
The dead, they cease to bleed

They cease to know both joy and woe
They die and they are gone
Some killers’ souls get torn with strife
With age turn pale and wan

No killing ever cured a thing
It’s just a dark misdeed
What use is wrath, what use is strife?
Save that fat crows might feed

When some men kill to stay a king
Great lands are caused much woe
For wars they are a wasteful thing
Yet winners feel aglow

Aglow because they are not dead
Perhaps puffed up with pride
As victors of some mighty strife
They feel God’s on their side

But who are they to think as such
A king is but a man
And no man knows the will of God
And none may know his plan

Some men who kill may well grow old
To ponder each misdeed
When those dead they killed are then long gone
There’s solace in some creed

They know they too will soon be dead
And dread their judgement day
As fear grows near the end of life
It’s then some men may pray

But who are they to seek reprieve
To plead for their own soul
‘T were better they had never killed
Through sin none may be whole

The Purging of a King’s Soul

A leper stood in purgatory
A king’s soul entered in
That leper seemed placatory
But ten souls screamed of “sin”

The souls of ten drowned men were there
An angel held a book
Each drowned soul had a ghastly stare
And each one cried and shook

“A promise is an empty thing
A promise is a lie
The promise of a cunning king
Left us to drown and die”

Not all kings may have reached the goal
To be called straight to Grace
Triumph at end could soil a soul
Here in this judging place

The angel seemed calm and serene
Long was the list of sin
A host of souls now could be seen
Here few may hope to win

And dead men from each battlefield
Who died still in their prime
Before the angel now appealed
Against each kingly ‘crime’

A Brother came denounced the will
That left his sons bereft
His soul it bore an icy chill
And he screamed out “Dark Theft”

A swineherd’s wife bemoaned the life
Of her poor dead sweet boy
She blamed it all on kingly strife
“Great men know nought of joy”

Kingship may well turn dark the soul
Some kings may pass to hell
Long lists of sin upon the scroll
Mean we’ve no way to tell

END

[1] Norse god of uncertainty of change and of fire, a trickster and an enemy of Odhinn the leader of the gods of Asgard

[2] Viking, a noun and a verb meaning to go on piratical raids or to be a pirate.

[3] Goddess of the Norse underworld

[4] Meaning takes council with the elves or elfish council

[5] For a good source on beliefs in the first millennium see: “The Real Middle Earth” by Brian Bates

[6] Midgard: the realm of men

[7] At the Battle of Ashdown (AD 871) Alfred as a young prince broke the Danish ranks with an unexpected charge on their flank as they prepared to attack. This earned him the title of “The Bull of Ashdown”.

[8] This is a personal experience of coming around after a concussion.

[9] A herb said to improve memory

[10] Summer capital of Wessex sacked and burnt by Gudrum in 878

[11] This event is in The Saga of Soft Glimmering Lights

[12] See The Saga of Aethelflaed for this section about the Baptism of Gudrum

[13] This section is part based on my own experience when recovering from a head injury. Lost memories did not return all at once nor could they be forced to return by some act of will. The strange dreamscapes associated with head injury can sometimes seem quite real.

[14] One of these girls is Aethelflaed. See: “Saga of Aethelflaed Lady of the Mercians”.

[15] Slave

[16] A West Saxons or a person from Wessex

[17] The fungus, Daldinia concentrica, rots and kills old ash trees. The Ash tree is symbolic of Odhinn. The English have a colloquial name for this fungus; it is known as “King Alfred’s Cakes”. The dried Fruiting body when powdered was used as tinder to start fires.

[18] Loki is the god of fire and will fight with Odhinn at Ragnorok. It seems the Alfred story of burning the cakes and the battles between Loki and Odhinn are tied together in some sort of symbolic tale that had more meaning to people in the ninth and tenth centuries than it may have today.

[19] There is a strange reference in the Chronicle for the year 893. This says: “Then Alfred gathered his troops and went so that he camped between the two forces, near to the fort in the woods and the one by the water…” This seems a meaningless detail today. The Chronicle is generally brief in its descriptions save where a detail is necessary to the understanding of contemporaries. We can only guess what it means but for the purpose of these yarns it is assumed the Alfred used his opponents’ superstitions against them.

[20] The Orthodox Christianity of Byzantium as opposed to the Roman Church

[21] I am told the biblical quote of a “camel passing through a needle’s eye” is a mistake in translation and it ought to refer to a rope being threaded through the eye of a needle.