Magnus'' great grandfather, three, maybe four times removed, was a great boat builder – his name was Bj?rn Odinsson. He was the most pioneering builder of his day, many of his inventive techniques are used today by all boat builders in the north. Bj?rn''s most important innovation was his practice of ensuring that his technical advances were practical – he would do so by traveling with clans, on raids, in the boats he built, so he could see his work in action.  In this way, he could fine tune his latest innovations and make them better for the next boat he built. The fact that Bj?rn was such a perfectionist lends much to understanding why Magnus'' people are the greatest fighters of this land.


    Bj?rn began building boats with his father when he was just big enough to swing a mallet. By the time he entered manhood, he had built more boats than most shipwrights much older than him. As it just seemed to be his destiny, shortly after the village declared him a man, he departed the village with a group of explorers looking for a southern passage to a sea known as the Mediterranean. His goal was to learn how other builders plied their craft. It was a bold move, one that was inspired by the All Father – not Odin, not that Allfather. On his life changing journey, Bj?rn would become the first of his clan to change his beliefs away from the Norse pantheon to follow the One God, to the singular creator they refer to as the Allfather, same name – different creator, but using the same moniker keeps them from causing too much trouble amongst the other clans. It was Bj?rn''s dreams that inspired him and his fellow explorers to set south and know that they would be successful.


    The group took as much food and water as they could hold but were also planning to stop many times to hunt and restock. Part of the plan was to establish trade partners along the river system that would take them to the fabled city of Byzantium on the Mediterranean. Their trip took them initially west and south...there is no need to talk about the sailing and how hard it was, and how tough these twenty men were, so on and so on...it should be understood that the hard work of sailing is one of the things that makes Vikings physically superior to other tribes and countrymen - they exercise on the way to plundering.


    The group had to camp on the coast of the Danes the first few nights, they would have liked to avoid the Danes as much as possible - they were some real son''s o'' bitches, but it was a long trip and they had to rest, of course. The first evening the men were setting up camp on the Danish coast, a small number of locals stumbled across them.  It must be noted that initially, Bj?rn was a kind man, not prone to violence – on the raids he went on, he rarely left the boat. He preferred to stay with the boat and do what he could to ease the trauma of the slaves that were taken. In an un-Viking like fashion, the village of Elg Hjem did not approve of enslaving people. So, this is to say that as soon as the Danes found the explorers - Bj?rn nearly shat his breeches. There was no time to react to the attack - Bj?rn was the closest to them, unarmed, and poorly trained, he took a sword stab to his left shoulder leaving him incapacitated for the rest of the fight. Bj?rn curled up into the fetal position as the rest of the group, all seasoned fighters, dispatched the dozen or so Danes in a few minutes. Bj?rn''s friend Rognald picked him up, patched him, and set him down with a small mug of mead next to a fire. It was at this point in Bj?rn''s life that he decided that he would not be hurt in a fight ever again.


    The explorers kept making their way west and south to the region of Germania. It was slow going, rowing into the prevailing wind, but again, this made these men hard and tough.  While they traveled, Bj?rn made sure to spend as much time as he could at an oar – even if it was one handed for many days. He wanted to improve his physical being as well as show the men he was willing to do the hard work too - leading by example. When he was not rowing, he worked with Rognald learning the basics of combat. Each evening after the group landed and camp was set up, Bj?rn would spar with every fighter who would give him a moment...he was well respected, they all gave him time. This activity went on for more a couple of weeks...the group was practicing daily, and at times - all day long if they weren''t having to row. Sometimes they stayed longer in a spot if it had a good water source or plentiful game. Bj?rn was trying to get in as much practice as he could before they passed into the land of the Germanian''s. He did not want to get stabbed ever again.


    Intermission -


    Magnus paused for a drink, "Grandfather was a builder and engineer at heart, always wanting to do better - this distinctive trait carried over into everything he did, blacksmithing, cooking, learning how to fight – it didn''t matter what he did, he improved everything he learned how to do. As he was learning how to fight, he would constantly analyze, critique, and improve those skills he was learning. He had a knack for engineering and how bodies moved, how they would respond, react, so on and so on. He took learning how to fight to a new level. As he learned and adapted, he devised new forms too. He showed these ''moves'', so to speak, to his friends, and in turn and they all began to work and analyze their fighting styles, constantly making improvements, sometimes just the most subtle of foot spacing or elbow height...always making forms better."


    End Intermission -


    The river tributary that Bj?rn had dreamt of in the land of Germania was open like the top of a mead pitcher – they literally took a left and started heading south. The unknown territory excited the explorers. They were the discoverers of a new land – they would record the sites and tell the tales of this expedition, earning them fame and valor. Their names would be recorded in the Viking annals of history!


    Traveling was much easier on the glassy green river than on the turbulent ocean. Trees and brush reached out over the water, the shore keeping the travelers at bay with no place to land. Breaching an occasional glimpse back into the ancient forest, they could see giant fir and walnut trees imbuing the landscape with their spirit into atmosphere. Branches and roots offer safety to the animals that chose to stay within their confines. The power of God''s creation rolled off of the giants like heat waves from a smithy''s fire. It was several miles into the land that the explorers finally found space enough on the shore to land the long boat. Bj?rn''s plan was to stay here and relax for a few days. They could hunt, gather water, train...and a few days spent resting would be good for the men.


    The first evening at camp, Bj?rn could feel the forest calling to his soul. He wandered through the fir and walnut trees, feeling as if he was being guided – something was calling him...someone. Bj?rn signaled to Rognald, pointing at himself and then into the forest, that he would be heading off ''that'' way, he made his way through brush and bramble. Following the pull of the spirit on his heart he came upon the gnarliest old tree he had ever seen. Its giant gnarled trunk with mammoth branches soaring into the darkening sky. Bark so dark and tough, nearly black, protecting its life-giving inner core. Small mammals and birds were creating a chorus of sound that was naturally soothing. As Bj?rn walked a circle around the massive trunk, there was one specific spot, directly on the east side, at the base of the ancient behemoth, that looked as if someone had come and cleared it of debris just for him. The spirit of the forest was intense, he could feel the Allfather in all the things that surrounded him, encouraging him, building him up, strengthening his resolve. Bj?rn sat in the mysteriously clean spot, on the ground next to the Allfather tree for several hours, meditating and deliberating over his heaven-sent dreams – still not sure what to make of all he had just recently discovered. Bj?rn finally found himself feeling spiritually satiated and made his way back to camp.


    Over the remaining few days, in between hunting and sparring, Bj?rn would depart camp and meditate at the ancient Allfather tree. The meditation sessions were fortifying his plans and strengthening his belief in the One creator. Bj?rn now knew that he and his explorers were destined to do more than travel to Byzantium to learn boat building, blacksmithing, and combat – this trip would set the foundation for their clans - generations to come. They were going to create something new...and good.


    These few days of rest and simple training were refreshing, the explorer''s hearts and souls were once again in the frame of diligent and wanton voyager. In between training and eating, Bj?rn felt it prudent to take each one of his friends to the Allfather tree too, being one on one with them, bolstering their trust and building relationships with those who would be with him to the end of this strange, fortunate journey.


    The morning the crew packed up and headed south, they kept to their regimented schedule - either practicing fighting methods or rowing. Late that first morning, the crew passed through a settlement that was built on both sides of the river. Slowly passing through, Bj?rn watching one side and Rognald the other. This was the first sign of people they had found since setting into this new land. Not wanting to take anything for granted, Bj?rn decided they should just pass on through to avoid any initial fear they might cause – they were Vikings, not cuddly puppies. This seemed to be a small village, and it felt as though, by the look of the folk watching them, they would not be interested in making a trade deal right away. Bj?rn kept an eye on their stern after making it past the last of the small river dwellings, ensuring they were not followed – just in case.


    Pulling off the river and setting up camp for the night started out like one of those "normal" moments, but the light mood was soured - their kindly banter was broken by the sound of boats running up on to the shore. Two row boats to be exact, bearing a sun motif flag of the settlement they passed through, pulled up onto the tree lined cove behind them. Two men from each boat jumped out into the shallow water to finish dragging the boats up on to the beach. All were wearing matching blue tunics with the same sun motif on the flag, over chain mail, brown home spun pants, and brown leather boots. Nineteen of the men wore a simple steel helm. One man, in particular, stood out as his helmet was decorated with a horsehair plume dyed blue and his uniform had the addition of a blue cape with the sun motif emblazoned on it.


    Bj?rn''s crew all stopped and slowly gathered up - not drawing any weapons, they stood fifteen yards or so, inland from the visitors. There was an honest attempt to look peaceful...their raggedy beards, long braids, or bald heads - it could be imagined that it was a little difficult for those villagers, all dressed uniformly with well kempt clothing and beards, to understand the men they beheld. Bj?rn had his hands out to his front, away from his torso and axes, and slowly stepped away from his crew to head toward the militia leader. The plumed leader began speaking loudly and quickly, repeating something that Bj?rn could not understand. Bj?rn had stopped in his tracks, now ten yards away from the militia, and raised his hands a bit further, trying to look more reassuring – but it was not working. The plumed leader was still repeating the same phrase, and was now, attempting to make his point more forceful by raising his voice and drawing his sword – the two men could simply not communicate - with the plumed leader drawing his weapon, a line had been crossed.


    The clearly palpable tension finally snapped like a center mast in a lightning storm - something triggered the commander of the soldiers to order an attack. The Vikings had not drawn weapons initially, so they were taken aback at the surprise movement. Bj?rn was the closest to an enemy, followed by Rognald; their bodies simply shifted to autopilot – this was going to turn out badly for the blue men. Bj?rn''s hours of constant practice kicked in without a second wasted as he closed the gap on an attacker. He was inside the leader''s attack sphere, grabbing the sword wrist and elbow, then hip tossing him over, reversing the grip of the sword to instinctively stab his opponent in the heart for a kill...but he never finished that killing blow - a thunderous voice with the power of a winter squall froze all motion– "STOP!"


    All the men literally stopped in the middle of their movements – falling, swinging a sword, or running into the forest afraid. A man dressed in a homespun, dark brown habit was stepping from the boat, furthest away from the battle. He was older than Bj?rn, but not "old", brown, short, mussed hair and lacked any facial hair. Shaken to his core, tears coursing down his cheeks. That man began speaking frantically to the leader of the town''s men, using his hands to emphasize his fear, and clearly chastising the leader for his stupidity, a tirade of fear slowly coming to an end as he noticed that everyone was staring at him, and him alone.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Bj?rn stepped back from the leader and allowed him to roll over and up to his feet. The plumed leader took stock of the entire battleground, making sure no one was moving, and speaking some words that the Norsemen did not understand, the opposing force began to withdraw away from their combatants, moving toward the boats. The man in the homespun frock slowly moved toward Bj?rn, his hands out in front, indicating he was unarmed. The towns militia were gathering on the beach behind the strangely clothed man, stowing their weapons. Mister homespun brown began to speak, in broken Norwegian, "I am sorry, deeply, for the attack on your persons. Please forgive us, we are quick to judge and your appearance to these men is fearful – can you forgive us?"


    Bj?rn was a bit confused and changed the subject a bit, "You speak our language, who are you?"


    "My name is Fulton, I am a friar from port city of Treva – just back up the river", his hand still in front of him and shaking with fear. "I have travelled to many places, including the land of the Danes, stayed with them for many years in order to learn their language and to try and teach them of God the father."


    Bj?rn was caught off guard by Fulton''s last statement, "What do you mean God the father?" The militiamen were put out of Bj?rn''s mind at this point.


    "Please, can you let me know that you can forgive the commander and his men for being rash and attacking you without provocation...I-I am happy to stay here and talk about anything you wish, p-please let the other men go – you would have clearly destroyed them, th-they are not fighters like you."


    Bj?rn slipped his axe into his belt and turned a bit to his right, "Put your weapons away friends, we do not need to kill anyone today. Move back some, let''s give these men room before they shat themselves, and let them leave. I am interested in what the man in the brown dress has to say." Bj?rn''s men did as he requested, most began to finish the task of setting up, but the lieutenants kept an eye out for the sudden change of temperament, as the militia boarded their boats and began to shove off.


    Fulton turned to the commander and began speaking in their strange tongue. The commander, clearly agitated, was worried about Fulton staying behind with the Norsemen. Fulton, grabbing the commander by both shoulders, must have assured him of his own safety, as the commander eventually climbed into his boat, and the men rowed away – the commander watching Fulton for as long as the vegetation growing on the riverbank would allow. Fulton waved one last time to his people, and slowly turned to Bj?rn, chin down, eyes looking up, and thin frail looking shoulders slumped in defeat...a face of submission.


    "Don''t worry Fulton, we won''t harm you and you are not our slave – if that is your fear." Bj?rn assured Fulton, "Please come and sit with me by the fire."


    Bj?rn turned to his right and Fulton followed him to sit on a couple of stumps that acted as stools for the two men. "What did you tell the commander?" Bj?rn asked, back straight and head held high.


    Fulton, a bit hunched and head held down, still submissive, replied "I told him he had to go, and it was my job to keep you... the north men, from killing the Treva militia. I told him he needed to put in trust in God, that whatever happens here tonight is meant to be – that he must have faith, that I will meet the fate, that I am meant to have."


    "I told you Fulton, you''ve nothing to fear from us, so long as you don''t attack – I''m fairly certain you''re not a warrior. Please, sit up" Bj?rn mildly scolded, "... you are your own man, you do not have to submit to me, or my men. Now, tell me – who is this God the father you speak of, I would hear more of him?" Bj?rn, was easily able to change the subject away from that last fearful moment, where many men had almost died.


    Fulton squared his back and shoulders, composing himself, knowing that Bj?rn was sincere in what he said. He turned to look Bj?rn in the eye – man to man, "I can truly say I have never met a Dane, or other northman like you, what should I call you?"


    "My name is Bj?rn... Bj?rn Odinsson. My clan and I hail from the east side, of the south of Norge, north, across the sea from the Danes. We are looking for a passage to Byzantium as we wish to learn from the master ship and weapon builders of those ancient lands. We are looking to find these things that are only stories among my people - things that are regarded as mere legends, fanciful tales from fanciful story tellers, but things that I and my travelers feel are facts."


    "Well, Bj?rn of Norge, I think that we are both in for a treat – I can tell you of the one God the father, and, I have been to Byzantium, and it may be that I was planning to go back - and am in need of transport. See," Fulton grinned "I told James to have faith that the Lord would look out for me. So, Bj?rn, where shall I start, with Byzantium, or God the father?"


    Bj?rn was now excited, as well as pleased to hear about both, "Rognald, Asger, please come here. Fulton is going to tell us of his God, the father. It sounds very much like our Allfather – what say you?" Both men made their way to the fire to hear more about this new religion from this man in the strange garb. Grabbing wood for the fire on their way, they sat to hear the news.


    Fulton''s demeaner changed as he began telling his story to new ears. His voice cleared, back and neck were rod straight, his eyes moving to each man in turn, "I belong to a group of men known as the monks of Saint Anthony. We are traveling teachers that bring the news of our savior, Jesus Christ, to the ears of the untold. Now, as you have asked about God the father, He is the father of the Christ and the creator of all – the world as we know it and all of the plants and animals herein..."


    Fulton kept talking into the late hours of the night. Bj?rn''s men were joining the fire as they finished their tasks, all of them were eventually consumed by the words of Fulton. Bj?rn was incessantly asking questions, comparing his dream sequences of his Allfather, to the likeness of Fulton''s God the father, comparing what each knew to the other – confirming that both Fulton, and the clan of Bj?rn, were of the same belief in the same, one God and one Creator. The night turned to the wee hours of the morning - the men were so captivated by the news that Fulton was sharing, none of them could stop listening. Though, as the sun started to rise, the men had all they could to eventually stand, and they succumbed to exhaustion. Those men had been enraptured by Fulton, the monk of St. Anthony, the traveling teacher.


    Rognald woke Bj?rn, frantically, at the sound of a boat landing on the shore of their small cove, the two men scrambling for weapons – just in case. Rognald stood watch as Bj?rn woke Fulton, Bj?rn sure that they would need some interpretive assistance. The boat that pulled in only had four men in it, the commander was one, another dressed like Fulton, and two regular militia men at the oars.


    "Please stay here" Fulton implored to Bj?rn and Rognald, "the other man is one of my brethren, probably worried I was not going to go home alive." Fulton made his way to the boat. He greeted all the men cheerfully; his dialog was short, and the visitors departed.


    "I explained to my friends that I will be traveling with you to back to Byzantium. They tried to sway me to stay, but alas, I feel it is with God''s guidance that I go with you south – we don''t want any more casualties than necessary, seeing as I speak the language and you, do not. My brother is going to get my meager belongings and return later, if... that is, it is okay with you - that I guide you to Byzantium Bj?rn?"


    "Yes, yes!" Bj?rn shouted, "this is wonderful news Fulton, I was actually going to ask you to travel with us! I cannot wait to get back on the river... But, how about we stay here for a few days, we can stock up on food and water, we can talk more about God and the Allfather. Maybe we can even make better amends with that commander, begin some trade agreements with them? My people have many things to offer and many things we need that we cannot make ourselves..."


    So, on and on Bj?rn and Fulton went, making plans for travel, as well as setting the foundation for trade in the area that would someday be known as Hamburg, Germany, on the Elbe River.


    Five days later, ready for travel and trade agreements made for the benefit of the Norsemen and Hamburg''s future, the explorers began the trek south once again...


    "Men" Bj?rn shouted, "gather ''round before we set sail. Rognald, Asger and I have been discussing some things, talking about things with Fulton as well. Fulton will be guiding us to Byzantium, he has been there before." Bj?rn began to walk, weave in and out of his crew, "We are on a path of adventure, trade, and enlightenment – not conquest – am I right?", the question was raised with emphasis. The men replied with a solid "Hoo ahh!". Bjorn continued, "Therefore, I refuse to have an incident such as we had the other day. It is important that we establish many good trade locations, and I don''t really like having to kill someone because we don''t know the language. We are not killers like some of our kin – there is a much easier way to make money than pillaging and raping – trade. It is safer too" he grinned, "not to mention we can sell southern goods to our neighbors – at a huge profit!" Bjorn laughed at himself for being so savvy. "This is my proposal for you – mallets, quarter staffs, or fists. Leave axes, swords, and seaxes as the last option, or for raiders – we don''t kill unless there is no other option." Bj?rn had glanced up at Fulton, to gauge his response.


    "My new-found friends" Fulton stated loudly with his teaching voice, "the spectacle that I witnessed three days ago, was unfounded in my lifetime – I have never witnessed such a fighting force as you. Had the Lord not shouted through me for you to stop, you would have literally killed every man of the sheriff''s party in a matter of moments – I saw it all, and I was afraid. We are going to come across many villages as we travel south to Byzantium, most of these are peaceful and welcoming. We will have many opportunities for you to make trade deals with them, but to be honest – there are stories among those hamlets, about the raiders from the north and...you look like raiders from the north. So, we must go slow and let me talk and set the atmosphere for us to deal with them. I have taught and worked with these people for many years, I know them well, we will make it through, and when done right, you will be the first northerners to make trade with these river folk."


    "Now", Fulton followed up with a more serious tone, "don''t be fooled into thinking that we won''t run into any bandits now. Sections of the river are ripe with outlaws that take a ''toll'' from any boat that passes through their territory – these men are a menace to hard working people everywhere. I know I have been teaching you about the compassion of our Allfather, but he is also a God that will defend his proverbial sheep from the wolves. I know that you will do as you must when we pass into these waters."


    "Come now Bj?rn" Fulton shouted, "Let us be off. I am excited to show you - my new brothers in God -Byzantium!"


    Another Intermission:


    Magnus took a swig of his mead. "I''m not sure how you feel about this," he plainly stated to Is?lde, "but, to some people, killing is killing and it matters not if it is an animal or a person. I know that even now, life is tough and sometimes brutal, but so many generations ago - it was much worse. There was no value on life or for our fellow humans. Slavery, brutality, and murder was very normal. To our clan, belief in the Allfather has given us a different perspective, life is important. Now, don''t get me wrong, if someone comes to try and take my life or the life of one of my clan, and I am left with no other alternative, I will take a life - I won''t like it, but I will take a life if I have to, just like everyone else in my clan. The last thing that we learned from grandfather Bj?rn, some people are just bad, they have literally sold their soul to the Dark One, and they do not seek anything other than destruction - for the sake of destruction."


    Is?lde did not respond with words, the thoughtful look that crossed her face as she looked into Magnus'' eyes, told him that she agreed with his perspective, fully. She took a pull of her mead and tore off a hunk of bread, "Please go on, Magnus. This is a great story, and I''m learning much about your people."


    Magnus leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet out in front of him, "So, as we were talking - all of the men agreed that they would assess every volatile situation they were in, and choose appropriate action...


    End Intermission:


    Author''s note: The boat trip from Hamburg, Germany to the Adriatic Sea, exiting the European continent on the east side of Italy, is over 500 miles – as the crow flies, and a Viking long boat is NOT a crow. Sailing from that point to the south of Greece and then to Byzantium (Istanbul, Turkey) is over 1,200 miles. These men followed meandering rivers, so needless to say - this is a long trip of the same activity''s occurring day after day – I don''t want to bore the reader by writing about all of the repeated days of rowing, sparring, and education about the Allfather, yada, yada, yada - So, just know this, there was about four months straight of rowing – making our heroes lean and strong. That is about four months for Bj?rn to spar and train, and to learn and fine tune his fighting skills. Four months'' straight of Fulton teaching these "heathen" Vikings the ways of Jesus, a.k.a. God, a.k.a. el Elyon - The Allfather. The men were being molded in spirit, body, and mind...nonstop.


    Just like Fulton said, they did come across some bandit camps – that did not go good for the bandits. But as the way fate, God blessed, would have it – the results of clearing the bandit camps resulted in many good trade deals for Bj?rn''s long boats, northern furs, lumber, ore, and many other Viking related items for southern food staples, cloth, leather and more.


    We should though, talk about the time the sailors came across some rogue Roman centurion''s pillaging a small town close to Italy...