Gyda, I have come to say goodbye to you properly. (…) Dear child, Gyda, you are not gone, because you are always in my heart. They say that a man most love his sons more, but a man can be jealous of his sons, and his daughter can always be the light in his life. I know very well that you are with the gods, but I will wait here awhile, and if you want to come and talk to me, then come and talk, and I will gently stroke your long and beautiful hair once again with my peasant hands.


When I lived at the court of the emperor Charlemagne, these northmen had already emerged from their lairs to attack parts of his empire. […] There was some confusion about their identity, but from the build of their ships and their speed through the water, the emperor recognized them at once as northmen. After a lightning attack… they made their escape. The emperor’s men took up the chase, but they were soon out-sailed. And now it is our turn to deal with these ruffians, these pagans. But deal with them we shall… And must.


"The sons of Ragnar Lothbrok will be spoken of as long as men have tongues to speak."

"They will enjoy that much fame?"

"One of them will marry the daughter of a King. Another will discover and sail around a sea that has no tides. All this and more, have I forseen."

"Then they will have more fame than I, their father?"


Thor was angry with us. He beat his anvil and the waves grew ever taller, soaked the boats, and one went down, heavy with water. We saw it, and heard the cries of the men hauled down into the deep. And then, at first light, we saw another had vanished, storm wrecked, the men all drowned.