Men call me “King Alfred’s Viking,” and I think that I may be proud of that name; for surely to be trusted by such a king is honour enough for any man. Maybe I had rather be called by that name than by that which was mine when I came to England—though it was a good title enough that men gave me, if it meant less than it seemed. For being the son of Vemund, king of Southmereland in Norway, I was hailed as king when first I took command of a ship of my own.

One may ask how I came to lose my father’s kingdom, which should have been mine, and at last to be content with a simple English earldom; or how it was that a viking could be useful to Alfred, the wise king. So I will tell both.

Ranald Vemundsson was born to be king, but it was Harald Fairhair who unified Norway. There wasn’t room in the land for two kings, so Ranald took a ship down to England where he found another, better king, who ruled with admiration instead of fear. Alfred he was called, and made his royal seat in Wessex.

There were other vikings in England at the time all around Alfred—in Wales, Northumbria, East Anglia and Mercia. These were Danes under the command of the sons of Ragnar Lodbrok, and warred against the Saxons under Alfred.

So how did peace come to England? Charles Whistler told the tale back in 1898, and while it is historical fiction its plot draws directly from historical sources and its themes of honor, justice, mercy and understanding are no less powerful or relevant. The author provides helpful footnotes about Norse culture as well as medieval English customs and the life of Alfred the Great.

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King Alfred’s Viking