Ivar the Viking / A romantic history based upon authentic facts of the third and fourth centuries

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

Hjalmar, Sigurd, and Sigmund had joined Ivar, each with a handsome skeid.

After an uneventful voyage, the fleet sighted the shores of Svithjod, and soon afterwards arrived opposite the fjord leading to Lake Malar. The fastest vessels let down their sails, cast anchor, and waited for those lagging behind; and when they had come in sight of each other, the shields were hung outside of the gunwales of every vessel. The peace shields were hoisted, and the standards of the different Vikings were seen floating gracefully on the breeze. The fleet remained at anchor for the night, and next morning the horns were sounded for the anchors to be raised and to move forward. The wind was fair and fresh, and as the ships sailed they passed by many small hamlets nestling in nooks along the picturesque shore. Slaves in their white garments were seen tilling the soil, or cutting down trees that were to be used in the construction of houses or vessels. The harvest had taken place, and rye, barley, and oats were still stacked in the field. Everything was peaceful, but behind these hills and these forests lived the Sviar, or the Sueones of the Romans and their kindred, the bravest and most daring people the Roman Empire had ever come in contact with.

The fjord leading towards Lake Malar had, in those days, about the same appearance as to-day. Their granite walls protected them against the daughters of Ægir and Ran. Island after island lined the coast and the entrance of the fjord, and the shores were clad in many places with woods and forests of gigantic oak and pine, and some which witnessed the scenes I describe are still to be seen here and there. When evening came, the horns sounded for the vessels to cast anchor for the night.

The following morning, at dawn of day, the ships were again under way. The voyage drew towards its end, Lake Malar was entered, the old town of Sigtuna came in sight, and soon afterwards they cast anchor for the last time.

Then Ivar, two of his uncles, his three foster-brothers, and the men of high birth who had followed him, left their ships and landed. All were splendidly attired. Ivar wore over his shoulders a superb red cloak, and his followers likewise. These cloaks were so long that their swords could not be seen under them. They mounted their horses, which had been sent ashore. They rode slowly along, with their hawks resting on their shoulders or on their wrists. Ivar’s hawk was called Habrok, and was very famous on account of its skill in catching large birds and hares.

Every man in that retinue looked every inch a warrior; their mustaches, which only high-born men could wear, gave them a martial appearance; their hair hung gracefully on their necks from under their shining, bright helmets. Ivar wore a golden helmet.

The watchmen in the towers at Upsalir had seen Ivar and his following coming, and told Yngvi of their approach, saying to him: “There glitter in the sunshine, helmets, splendid shields and chain-armor, axes and spears. The men look very valiant. Those must be some of thy guests, and from their bearing they are high born.”

The people watched them as they rode towards Upsalir. When they arrived in front of the gate they stopped, and after it was opened they entered the large square, or town, and went to the great banqueting hall, dismounted near the door, and then went in.

Yngvi was seated on his high seat, and received Ivar and his kinsmen and warriors with great courtesy, and bade him be seated, as a mark of honor, in the second high seat. Yngvi was of medium height; he wore a long, flowing, white beard, for he was of that age when Hersirs wore beards, instead of a moustache; he had deep blue eyes and a benevolent countenance, and was clad in a long, flowing robe of great beauty, embroidered all over with gold. He looked at Ivar intently for a while. What were his thoughts nobody could tell; but probably he was trying to read the character of the son of Hjorvard, his kinsman. He, perhaps, also thought that one of his daughters would make a good match by marrying the son of Hjorvard.

Ivar was tall and strong; his physique, under the constant training of athletic games, was superb. His features were regular, his cheeks rather prominent; his nose was aquiline, his eyes of a most beautiful deep blue, and, when looking at you, seemed to search your innermost thoughts; and his long hair was fair and silky.