Vikings in Corfe Castle

I have always had a fascination for Vikings - for their voyages, their art, their sagas, their impact upon the Anglo Saxon Kingdoms -

It all started, I'm sure, when I saw Tony Curtis and Kirk Douglas in The Vikings - I watched the film on my mum and dad's TV - the mad technicolour gave me a headache - but the savage antics of the Viking warriors kept me riveted to the screen -

I especially liked the scene where Erik was chained down, to await drowning by the rising tide - Odin listened to his prayer, and a strong wind turned back the sea - Erik was played by Tony Curtis -

Kirk Douglas played Erik's one eyed half brother, Einar - Einar spent most of his time sneering, downing horns of mead and slaying effete Northumbrians -

Perhaps inevitably, Ernest Borgnine played the part of a Viking warlord - I can remember him, laughing, jumping into a pit of wolves -

Later, I read The Battle of Maldon - I discovered the Anglo Saxon Chronicle - I stood upon the shore of Lindisfarne - the icy salty air blew over the ruins of the abbey - I imagined the viking fleet, sailing over the North Sea -

Last May, I went to Corfe Castle with Anne and Penny - there was a Viking Festival taking place within the grounds of the Castle -

A tented encampment had been set up - Viking warriors milled about in chain mail, wielding swords and axes -

I knew that these warriors were only pretending - the young man with the splintered shield would go back to Carphone Warehouse on Monday - but there was still something terrifying, something truly dreadful, about these figures - perhaps it was a portion of some deep memory -

I remembered that gentle Wareham had been torched by Viking armies -

I watched a mock battle - a palisade was stormed - I heard the sound of swords upon mail, the shouts of armed men - I saw arrows darken the air - axe blades cut down green boys -

I saw myself, in another time, frozen with fear, watching a dragon prowed boat, swooping up our river -