Chapter 1
1035: OTL coastal Massachusetts
"Fleeing the violent skrælings of the north, and not deterred enough to leave, Thorfinn Karlsefni departed south in the early years of the 11th century. He and his settlers traveled down the east coast of the newly discovered land until they reached a great bay. It was here that they began anew."
Jarl Snorri Thorfinnsson closed his eyes as he listened to the skald read aloud the beginning of the saga. The monotone voice of the old man was begining to put Snorri to sleep. But, tradition mandated that he listen to it. It happened at every Thing. The skald continued.
"Thus, our forefathers, the karls and the Jarl Thorfinn founded Botnborg in this place, free from prying eyes. Our king and his wife, Gudrid Thorbjarnarddóttir, ruled with responsibility and kindness. It was here that we started our first farms, built our new homes, and our new lives. And this line continues with our Jarl Snorri Thorfinnsson."
The crowd of free men let out a collective sigh of relief as the skald ended his speech. The Thing began, starting with a dispute between a Skræling hunter from the Wampanoag tribe and a Norse hunter. The Norse man had apparently intruded onto the tribes private hunting grounds and killed several deer. The lawspeaker ruled in favor of the Wampanoag.
Such were the type of cases heard at the gathering. A boring a tedious process, the Thing is what helped keep order. When the gathering ended, Snorri retreated back to his longhouse.
Resting in front of the fire, the king relaxed as he laid on one of the many crude benches that lined the hall. His wife, Astrid, was already in the bedroom sleeping. She was often exaughsted due to being with child. He was often feeling tired of being Jarl. He sometimes wished his brother, Thorbjorn Thorfinnsson was the ruler. But then, if that was the case, perhaps it would be Snorri who would be leading the church services. With a lack of contact with the Holy See in Rome, Thorbjorn took it upon himself to preach to the masses, especialy since there had to be at least one closet pagan who still clung to Odin.
Snorri often wondered if he was living up to his father's expectations. The old man was out, burried in a small grove to the west. However, due to the lack of materials, Snorri could not afford to bury the sword with him. Instead, he kept it in the meager royal armory. Thankfully, he hasn't had to wield it in battle, peace holding with these "people of the dawn." That thought reminded him, he was to meet with his brother "Bishop" Thorbjorn tomorrow. With that, Snorri traveled to his quarters to go sleep.
"Fleeing the violent skrælings of the north, and not deterred enough to leave, Thorfinn Karlsefni departed south in the early years of the 11th century. He and his settlers traveled down the east coast of the newly discovered land until they reached a great bay. It was here that they began anew."
Jarl Snorri Thorfinnsson closed his eyes as he listened to the skald read aloud the beginning of the saga. The monotone voice of the old man was begining to put Snorri to sleep. But, tradition mandated that he listen to it. It happened at every Thing. The skald continued.
"Thus, our forefathers, the karls and the Jarl Thorfinn founded Botnborg in this place, free from prying eyes. Our king and his wife, Gudrid Thorbjarnarddóttir, ruled with responsibility and kindness. It was here that we started our first farms, built our new homes, and our new lives. And this line continues with our Jarl Snorri Thorfinnsson."
The crowd of free men let out a collective sigh of relief as the skald ended his speech. The Thing began, starting with a dispute between a Skræling hunter from the Wampanoag tribe and a Norse hunter. The Norse man had apparently intruded onto the tribes private hunting grounds and killed several deer. The lawspeaker ruled in favor of the Wampanoag.
Such were the type of cases heard at the gathering. A boring a tedious process, the Thing is what helped keep order. When the gathering ended, Snorri retreated back to his longhouse.
Resting in front of the fire, the king relaxed as he laid on one of the many crude benches that lined the hall. His wife, Astrid, was already in the bedroom sleeping. She was often exaughsted due to being with child. He was often feeling tired of being Jarl. He sometimes wished his brother, Thorbjorn Thorfinnsson was the ruler. But then, if that was the case, perhaps it would be Snorri who would be leading the church services. With a lack of contact with the Holy See in Rome, Thorbjorn took it upon himself to preach to the masses, especialy since there had to be at least one closet pagan who still clung to Odin.
Snorri often wondered if he was living up to his father's expectations. The old man was out, burried in a small grove to the west. However, due to the lack of materials, Snorri could not afford to bury the sword with him. Instead, he kept it in the meager royal armory. Thankfully, he hasn't had to wield it in battle, peace holding with these "people of the dawn." That thought reminded him, he was to meet with his brother "Bishop" Thorbjorn tomorrow. With that, Snorri traveled to his quarters to go sleep.
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