Alric and the Wolf Ch VIII

By Robbie Ashmore

Alric and Soden set off through the forest. The weather was lovely. A gentle breeze blew out of the South, carrying with it the scent of flowers. They walked along, side by side for most of the day, with Alric’s hand resting upon Soden’s back. Suddenly Soden came to a halt saying, “Alric, I must go on ahead to make sure Heimdal is ready to receive you. All you need do is follow the trail along this stream and it will bring you to the foot of the Rainbow Bridge. I will be there when you arrive.” And as quick as a thought Soden was gone.

Alric had traveled about an hour, when he heard a woman weeping. As he rounded a corner in the trail, he could see her there. She was a peasant woman, judging by her dress, sitting beneath an old oak and crying into her hands. He guessed she was about the same age as his own mother would be, about 35. A plain woman, but clean and well kept. “What is wrong my Lady?” Alric asked politely. The woman jumped up, startled, and started to run. “Please” Alric said, “Do not be afraid. I mean you no harm. If I can help you I will.” The woman looked at Alric with suspicion, but said softly, “My name is Anna, kind sir, My husband has been killed by the armies of Charlemagne and my children have been captured by an evil lord and put into slavery at his hall. He has offered to sell them back to me, but the price is beyond the reach of a widow woman such as I.”

Alric felt his pouch where the gold and silver coins rested. The coins he needed as a gift to Heimdal for the privilege of seeing his parents again. His heart went out to the woman, but he had nothing to spare! “My lady, I am truly sorry for your plight, but I have great need of the coins I carry now” Alric said sadly. “Then all is lost” said the woman and sat back down beneath the tree, placed her face in her hands and again started to cry. Alric gave her a small bow that she did not see, and backed away from her. When he got back to the trail he thought, “I am hoping to see my family for a few minutes only; while this woman’s children will spend a life time in slavery. As bad as it will hurt me, I must give her the coins”

Alric turned back, digging the coins from his pouch, as he neared the woman she looked up once again. Alric could see her grief. “Here” Alric said holding out the coins, “Take this and buy freedom for your children.” The woman’s face lit up with a huge smile. “Oh thank you, thank you Alric! You are indeed a Saxon Prince.” With that she stood up and starting walking away. Alric felt happy even though he knew that now he had no gift to give to Heimdal. Alric started back towards the trail then frowned, thinking, “How did she know my name?” He turned and called to the woman’s back, “Excuse me lady, but how did you know my name is Alric? The woman turned and looked at him and said, “Because the last time we met, I told you we would meet again!”

And then she started to transform and became the mare, Builders-Bane, she galloped to the edge of the stream, took a leap high into the air and dove head first towards the water. Just before hitting the stream the horse transformed into a huge salmon and swam away. Alric could hear the sound of laughter all around him. Angry and ashamed at being tricked so. Alric headed on to meet Soden at the bridge. As he arrived at the bridge an idea began to form, “It just may work” he thought. Standing at the foot of the bridge was Soden and a very tall, fair skinned man. The man was dressed finer than any man Alric had ever seen, at his side was a long sword and he had a shield slung across his back. The man eyes were bright blue and flashed golden whenever he looked around.

. Alric walked up to them and made a bow. “Alric” Soden said “This is Heimdal, the watcher of the Nine Worlds and Guardian of the Bifrost Bridge.” “I am very pleased to meet you sir” said Alric. “It is my pleasure to meet you Alric” Heimdal said. “My eyes see far and my ears hear all. I have followed you upon your quest, and you have done well indeed, so well in fact that I was willing to meet with you here. I will hear your request, and then, you and I may exchange gifts.” “My request is simple Master Heimdal, I wish to speak to my mother and father once more. I have no silver or gold to offer, for I have fallen prey to the Trickster, whose name I will not mention here! But someone once told me” Alric said with a look to Soden, “That at times, a poem was worth more than gold. If you will grant my request I will offer you this poem that I have written, and you can judge its worth.” “Hmmm…”said Heimdal, rubbing his chin, “If I do allow a visit, you must know that you may not set foot upon the bridge, and neither may your parents leave it. Now Alric, if you agree to those circumstances, let us hear your poem.” Alric stepped back and cleared his throat. He had finished the poem in his head after the Trickster had taken his coin. This was the first time he had recited it and he was nervous; nevertheless he looked up to sky, raised his arms and started:

“My fathers, my mothers, hear me now!

I stand here flesh and bone.

But inside my heart flows the blood;

That you have passed along.

Did you know the life you lived,

And the children you loved so;

Would spread like leaves, upon an oak,

And would forever grow?

From the mountains in the Northland

To ash trees on the Moors,

Forever pushing Westward;

To new and distant shores.

I wonder if you laughed and loved,

I wonder if you knew that your family name would carry on,

Our lives to honor you.

Were you warrior or a poet?

Or are they both the same?

Did you die bravely on some battlefield,

Calling Woden’s name?

The honor and the courage,

That meant so much to you.

I’ll try to pass on to my sons.

And teach them to be True.

I hope there in Valhalla,

Axe and Shield by your side.

You look down upon your bloodline;

And feel Saxon Pride.”

When Alric finished, Soden stood there with his lips pressed together nodding his head. Heimdal, made a small bow and said, “That was a fine gift indeed, a poem worthy of the Great Hall; and now here is my gift in return.” Heimdal then turned and pointed to the Bifrost. Alric turned to the Rainbow Bridge and tears filled his eyes as he saw his mother and father step forward. They were radiant and seemed to be clothed in the Northern Lights. They walked to the very edge of the bridge and stopped. “Hello son” his father said. “Hello Alric” said his Mother. Alric rushed towards them careful to stop short of touching the Bridge. Tears were streaming down Alric’s face. He was so ashamed of the things he had thought about them, they were beautiful and he missed them so much. “Shhhh…..my son… don’t cry now” said Alric’s mother. “We are so proud of you and the man you have become.” Alric’s tears became a fountain and he burst out, saying all at once:

“But mom..dad..I miss you so much.. I thought you were devil worshippers…. I forgot everything that you taught me..I love you both so much… I am so sorry… so sorry..I will never forget again.. if you can only forgive me.” “There is nothing to forgive my son” his father said “you have proven yourself honorable, and that is all any man could want of his son.” “I have a couple of things I would like to tell you Alric; and our time here is short. So listen closely my son: I know it hurts when we lose the ones we love, but your mother and I only ask that you celebrate our lives, our deaths were a small thing.

Remember us with love; and honor us with a horn of mead from time to time. Tell your children our story and in that way we shall live in the world forever. Remember son you are the fresh green leaves of a mighty oak whose roots are buried deep in this soil. No matter where you or your children go in this wide world; no matter what oceans you cross, those roots will remain. Pass on the knowledge that you have, and never forget the old gods and the old ways, and know that your mother and I will always love you.” Alric wiped the tears from his eyes, and stood up very straight. “I give you my word Da” Alric said. And to his mother he gave a small bow, “Ma, I will remember you fondly, always, you were both so good to me.” “Good-bye Alric” his mother said. “Good-bye Alric” his father said. “We will always love you, and miss you until we are re-united” they said together. And with that they turned and walked back into the light.

Alric turned back around to face Soden and Heimdal. Soden came forward and put one of his paws upon Alric’s shoulder and said, “Do you remember that I told you I would ask a gift of you some day, in return for the lessons you have received?” “Yes I remember” said Alric “Ask what you will Master Wolf, if it is within my power, it is yours.” “I have two things young Saxon; first I would tell you this: While on your quest I gave you nine virtues to live and follow, and now I give you a tenth. It is Joy, Alric. Live with Joy in your life. Find joy in all things and share it with those around you.

The last thing I would ask of you is that you write down what you have learned. The Saxon armies have lost the field, and the victors write the history. Write down what you have learned so that your children’s children may know the truth. Write down what you know of the old gods; so that one day, the children of the North will know their gods love them so. That is all Alric. This has been a grand adventure and now I must go.” The Wolf turned and began to walk away. “Good-bye my friend” said Alric quietly, then turned to Heimdal “And good-bye to you as well Heimdal. I must go back to my people and help them where I can, if you will but point the way.” Heimdal smiled and pointed to the South. “A day’s journey and no more, young Saxon. Fare you well Alric, until we meet again.” “Heimdal” Alric asked “Do you think I shall see Soden again?” “Soden?” Heimdal asked, looking confused, “Do you mean the Wolf?” “Yes, yes I do” replied Alric. Now he was confused. “Ah..well..” said Heimdal with a chuckle, scratching his chin “He has many names I suppose, but Soden is not one that I know.

The Wolf my boy was Woden. The All-Father himself…and you may rest assured he will always turn up where he is least expected.” Alric’s jaw dropped open as he turned back to watch the Wolf walking away in the distance. As he watched, the Wolf stood up and transformed into a tall man. The man placed his fingers to his lips and whistled. Two very familiar black birds circled down from the sky and came to rest on each shoulder.

*ADDENDUM FOLLOWS *

At the request of a friend I have decided to clarify a few things at the end of this story. Charlemagne was known as “The Holy Roman Emperor” and was instrumental in spreading Catholicism across Europe. The Massacre of Verden was an actual event and took place much as I’ve described here, the major difference being; the Saxons came willingly and surrendered themselves to Charlemagne. They truly did not fear death, as much as they loved their way of life; after all death is a small thing. Perhaps the smallest of things; after-all we actually play almost no part in it. It is how we live, not how we die that matters. The Massacre at Verden was not the only atrocity committed by Charlemagne in the name of the new religion. There were many more; for even after the Saxons submitted to his rule, he required them to go to mass and pay taxes to the church. Each time a group of Saxons refused or was caught honoring the old gods, they were branded as rebels and killed. It was just a few years after this, in 793, that the Norse starting raiding monasteries and other Catholic sites along the coast of England, Scotland and Ireland. As Soden said in the story “History is written by the victors” and it is for this reason that we now think of the Vikings and other Northern European tribes as blood-thirsty barbarians. But put into a true historical perspective; we can see how our ancestors would have hated the monasteries and all that they stood for. The loss of their way of life, the loss of their culture, even the loss of their freedom, they lay firmly at the foot of the cross. So who else would they strike out against? Most of the ‘history’ (and I use the term loosely) that we have been taught comes to us from the early priest. The sagas and epics of our people were known, but not recorded until the 13th century. But thanks to archaeologist and scholars determined to find the truth, we now have a much clearer picture of Christianity’s march across Europe. When the Saxons were first defeated, the early church let them keep their old gods, but only renamed them as ‘Saints’; below the Jewish god in a holy hierarchy. This became known as Germanic Christianity. This was true in most of Europe. However, as the Catholic Church slowly recognized they could not Catholicize the pre-existing cultures merely through the use of brute force, they developed the method of securing religious control of the people by placing churches and monastery foundations upon the people’s sacred sites. An excerpt of a letter from Pope Gregory to Abbot Mellitus in 601 AD illustrates that this reasoning had become policy for all of Christendom: “When, by God's help, you come to our most reverend brother Bishop Augustine, I want you to tell him how earnestly I have been pondering over the affairs of the English: I have come to the conclusion that the temples of the gods in England should not on any account be destroyed; only renamed for Christ. In this way, I hope the people; seeing their temples are not destroyed, will continue to frequent the places as formerly.” Many of the European festivals were kept as well. We still celebrate them today. The Winter festival known as Yule was renamed Christmas, the Fall festival that was called Samhain was renamed ‘All Hallowed Eve’ (which we know today as Halloween) and the Spring festival, honoring the Saxon goddess Eoster was kept as well. Easter kept its same name; and I’ve always wondered how they managed that. One interesting point to make about Easter is this: The goddess Eoster once found a little bird, too small to fly, half frozen in the snow. Taking pity on the poor animal, Eoster changed it into a rabbit with big feet to hop through the heavy snow and fur to keep it warm. It was called, Eoster’s Rabbit. When Spring came the rabbit still thought it was a bird and went around laying brightly colored eggs. It was considered good luck to find the eggs. So in celebration of Spring and the kindness of Eoster, the Saxons would color eggs and hide them for their children to find….much the same way we do today. Growing up I always wondered where the Easter egg tradition had come from. I told you this for one reason. I would like people to know that a lot of the traditions that we have today; a lot of our beliefs come from our ancestors long before the ravages of Charlemagne. I grew up thinking I was a descendant of Abraham; one of the twelve tribes of Israel. DNA and carbon dating have now proven this to be un-true. It is believed that Moses was leading the Jews out of Egypt about 1350 B.C. (3363 years ago) while 5000 years ago my ancestors were building Stonehenge, the Cordon des Druides and many, many other megalithic monuments, honoring their gods all over Europe. I feel that this is important for us to know. I feel that it is important to know our heritage. I feel like one of the biggest changes for our ancestors was ‘religion’ itself. I don’t think that our ancestors ‘worshipped’ the way we think of it today. Worship may have come easy to a race of people who were used to being subjugated; a group of people who were slaves to the Egyptians and the Babylonians. The people of Northern Europe didn’t even have kings at this time. They had leaders who were chosen because of their worthiness. Every man among them had equal voice in the Thing or community meeting. They honored each other with gifts, but to grovel and worship was unknown to the culture. The Forn Sidr, or Old Ways, wasn’t so much a religion, as a way of life. It was a way to relate to the divine and the world around them. They had no ‘Sabbath’ day. Every-day was holy. This has been passed down as well, although most of us don’t even realize it.

The days of the week are named after the Sun, the Moon and the gods of our ancestors. Sunday (Sun Day) was a day to honor (notice I said honor not worship) the Sun. Monday (Moon Day), Tuesday (Tiu’s Day), Wednesday (Woden’s Day), Thursday (Thor’s Day) and Friday (Freya or Frey’s Day). These names were ways to honor the gods. They didn’t believe the gods needed worship….after-all they were gods! They felt that we should honor the gods through ceremony and good deeds. The name Alric is an actual Germanic name and is the name of one of Charlemagne’s ancestors. A man who worshipped the old gods described in this story. I used to hate it in college when the professor would try to tell me what some author meant when he was writing a book. (J.R.R. Tolkien comes immediately to mind here) So in the admittedly slim chance, that my very humble story is ever discussed, I will state plainly. Alric is Us; all of the people who are descended from those European tribes. When we see the American Indian reconnecting with his roots after years of subjugation by the ‘White-man’; we think “Good for them!” We pay money to see them perform their dances and rituals at festivals out West each year. We buy their jewelry, with their holy symbols, at road side markets like the one at Four Corners and we think, “It is good for them to remember their roots.” I have never watched a rain dance ceremony and thought, “These people are worshipping the Devil.” But if a descendant of the Saxon people raises his drinking horn to honor the old gods or his ancestors, he is branded a Pagan and thought to be some kind of freak. I feel that this is wrong. We are a Native Tribe. Just as the American Indian is the indigenous tribe of North America; we are the descendants of the indigenous tribes of Northern Europe. No matter which religion you choose to follow today, I feel that it is important to know where you came from. The name Soden is actually the last name of a friend of mine (Ben Soden) who gave me the first book I ever read on Norse Mythology.

After reading it; I started my own research, and I can honestly say it changed my life. In all ways, he was my ‘Wolf’. When I was small, my mom used to read to me, a lot. She would read to me stories of the Tomten, and other tales from Germanic Myth, like Grimm’s Fairy-tales. These stories used to resonate with me. I could feel a sort of tug from them, like it was something I should remember; the way Alric felt when he first entered the Stone Circle. When I look at pictures of Northern Europe, of Ireland, England, Scotland, Norway, Germany, Austria and France, I feel drawn to them. I feel a sort of longing. Some may say it’s just the beauty of the land, the mysteries of the stone circles or the majesty of the castles. But when I see the Taj Mahal, I recognize its beauty and feel no yearning. When I see pictures of the gardens of Japan, I appreciate the intricacies of the design, but they have no pull on me. When I see pictures of the Great Pyramid, I am amazed by its size and the ingenuity required to build it; but do not feel that it is a part of me. I have no explanation for this… I do however have a theory. I believe that it is a genetic memory we have. Something within us that tells us, “This is our home, this is the lands from which we came.” The American Indian must feel longing when he looks across the untouched portions of America, where his ancestors lived for thousands of years. I feel that way about the Fjords of Norway, the wild Mountains of Wales, the Moors of England, the Dark Forest of Germany and the Highlands of Scotland. They call to me and their voice is almost a physical force. I think this is why I wanted to put the Tomten in this story; just a brief mention, but enough maybe that his story will be passed along for at least one more generation. The Tomten is a spirit who watches over our homes at night. He was most often described as a small man, with a grey beard and large red hat. Most of you would recognize him as the yard gnome that you see so often; still out there protecting our homes at night. They even made a cartoon about them; “Gnomeo and Juliet” but I heard nomention of the Tomten. This is another example of one of our traditions being passed down, but the story behind it being forgotten. I may or may not believe in the Tomten...but every once in a while…I leave a small plate of food out behind my house for him… just in case. (and honestly I’ve never been robbed, so take that for whatever it’s worth) The Huldra is much as I’ve already described; a beautiful young girl with a fox or some other animal’s tail or a hollow back. It was believed as long as you were polite to them and didn’t mention the tail or hollow back, they would let you go if you wanted to leave. The Otter skin above the fireplace is from the old Norse story of Otter. I won’t tell it here, but would encourage you to look it up. The great tree Yggdrasil or Tree of Life, is the Universe. It is prominent in all early European mythology. All life is contained within Yggdrasil, it is a beautiful story, another that I would suggest you to look up. There are nine worlds contained within Yggdrasil (and a squirrel that travels up and down its branches. I’ll bet you can guess his name); Asgard (the world of the Gods) being one of these. In some cases I have chosen to use the Germanic names for the Gods, instead of the more widely known Norse names. 

I did this for a reason. I wanted to show that these gods were worshipped by all Northern Europeans. These gods were worth dying for to our ancestors. Woden is of course Odin, the All-Father, the wisest of all gods. Donnar is Thor, the strongest, most courageous of the gods and protector of man-kind. Bragi is the god of poetry. Idun and Eir are the gods of healing. Heimdall is much as described in the story; watcher of the bridge between the worlds, he sees and hears all. Hugin and Munin are Ravens who are always associated with Odin. In most of the old paintings, they are shown perched upon the shoulders of the All-Father. Their names translate to “Thought” and “Memory”. Odin sends them out across the world each day to gather news for him. Our current culture tries to portray the raven as an evil bird, it is always prominent in any horror movie; but the raven was well thought of by our ancestors. 

That brings me to another point. Being raised in an Abrahamic faith, I was always taught men were the rulers of nature. But our ancestors saw it differently. Men were a part of nature. We were brother to the wolf and bear. When Alric first hears the voices of the trees, he describes it as paper over dry bones. The second time he hears it he thinks of a mother’s sigh. The same voice, different perspective. We have lost touch with the spirituality found in nature. We know it’s there, but it frightens us now. We feel it when we walk through the deep woods, but no longer know what we’re feeling. That is very sad to me. The horse in the story is L*ki. (* = o) It is bad luck to say the name of the Trickster, so I will not even type it here. The name Builders Bane comes from the Norse story of a man who built a wall around Asgard and was tricked by L*ki into doing it for free…hence ‘builders bane’. The concept of a ‘gift for a gift’ is also prominent in European Mythology, and it is an idea that I like! You get out what you put in, don’t ask or expect something for nothing. I think that I have covered the concept behind this story.

 The idea actually came to me one day when I saw that my cousin Margaret Yancey had posted something on Facebook about Charlemagne. I started thinking, “I wonder how much she actually knows about Charlemagne?” and that led to, “How much do most people know about Charlemagne?” and that led to “How much do most people know about their history at all?”….. and that led to this story. If you have stayed with me this far, then maybe you are willing to go a little farther. Pick up a book on Norse Mythology, Germanic Myths or Celtic beliefs; it will speak to you; and the voice will sound very familiar. And one more thing; the next time you’re sitting around having a beer, or even a glass of tea, pour out a little drink in honor of those who have gone before us; those ancestors whose blood still flows in our veins; all of the people who have made us who we are today. They will appreciate it. (And tell ‘em that Robbie sent you) Thank y’all. 

Robbie Ashmore 1-30-13