Autumn 780 CE

    It is dark now. The strange men are nowhere to be seen. I have very few memories about anything. So many unanswered questions float around in my head. Why am I here? More importantly, where am I? I am starting a journal with this sheepskin I found within my sack, so I can keep track of what is happening. A throbbing pain in my head brings me many images, which disappear as I close my eyes. No, I must remember, I must try to remember. The images come back to me as a memory. I see bright candles, a cross. I remember a church; yes a church in my town on the Spanish march. I was praying for someone sick. A couple of blood drops that fall from my face bring me back to reality. Someone is speaking. The language and voice are unfamiliar. As the person approaches, I see that they are a female with blue eyes and dirty, brown hair. Her clothes are nothing more than rags. She too must be a Viking thrall like. Nothing more than a useless slave. A sweet smile spreads across her face as she hands me a piece of bread that she was carrying with her apron. She reminds me so much of my sick sister Mary. Tears run down my cheeks like streams of pain and sorrow. The bread, that I chew, has lost its flavour of rich tasting food. All it tastes like now is rotten, dry bread. I put down the bread, as I have lost my appetite, I now feel sick in my stomach. By remembering my sister, I remember what had happened to me, just minutes ago before I ended up here. As I was praying for Mary, I heard horse's feet thumping louder and louder against the dirt floor outside of the church. I heard people screaming and cursing. I also heard a cruel laughter. I realized what was happening. Vikings were attacking our monastery! I ran out of the church as fast as I could, trying to avoid the savage beasts. But there were too many of them spread across the land. I eventually tripped and fell. Then the Vikings punched and kicked me. The Viking chieftain punched me one more time, and then I was knocked unconscious. Then somehow I ended up here. I must try to get some sleep now, in order to be ready for the struggles the next day can bring, Good night.

Autumn 780 CE

    It is morning, and I have gone exploring. I know where I am now, what I need to find out is where I am going. I am in a wooden ship with a large square sail. I remember in school, during class, we learned how to tell different types of wood. Judging by the colour of this ship, I say it is made of Oak Tree Wood. This ship seems to be highly decorated, carved with Viking alphabet and a huge fierce dragonhead on the prow. As the Viking men paddle, I notice that the ship can move quickly and swiftly, probably an advantage for leaving after an attack or a burglary. In the distance I can see land! I am tough, but not so strong on the sea. As we reach Sweden , I am overwhelmed with emotions of fear and a loss of belonging.

Summer 781 CE

    A year has passed from that day on the Viking ship. The new foreign land that I feared of is now so familiar. I remember that day, as I got out of the ship, I could see many turf, stone and clay houses. Now I know more about them, because I now live in a shack-like building that is attached to the houses. They are made for slaves like me. My landowners and I live on a salt water bay with cliffs around the sides called a ‘Fjord ‘. The Vikings are skilled wood workers as well as farmers. Although as a thrall I do most of the heavy farm work and try to prove myself worthy of living and a useful server. They make wonderful works of art and splendid foods. They eat fresh porridge, milk, meat, bread and cheese. We slaves eat some dry bread, and maybe some leftover meat, if we are lucky. It is hard to think that these people who have s culture at home, can be vicious and cruel while on raids.

Winter 781 CE

    Today I thought that I was going crazy! I missed the Carolingian Empire. I missed my home, family, and my friends. Most of all I missed Mary. I hoped she has gotten better, but I knew that if I wanted my life back I had to fight for it. I had a plan, I was so sure that it was going to work that I forgot about the major obstacle in my way, not getting captured. This evening I ran away from my landowners and crept inside the Viking ship hoping that it would take me back to the Spanish March. That brings us to the present. I am hiding behind a huge wooden crate. Although I cannot see the Vikings, I can hear them. The Folkmoot, which is the Viking who makes the decisions to go raiding, speak to the Berserkers, who are the fiercest worriers. I picked up some Viking language during the hardworking years I have spent in Sweden . The Folkmoot is giving the Berserkers the directions to Rome . Well that is close enough to my destination; at least it is in the same empire. Maybe from there I will find a way to...

Winter 781 CE

    I remember the day I was escaping so well. As I was drenched in my thought, I was interrupted by a scream. The chieftain fell onto the crate I was hiding behind. He seemed to have wounded his stomach in the fall. I remember the terror look in his eyes when he shouted, “Thrall did this” to the men. I remember being dragged away to a dungeon like house. I was in there for hours until a Viking soldier came and toke me away to the Thing, which was the center for law or parliament. There I saw the chieftain. A Viking seemed to be giving him a test meal. I froze, expecting the obvious. As the chieftain ate the strongly onion, herb porridge, I closed my eyes and hoped that the smell of the onions would not come out of his stomach, indicating that the wound is not major. I could hear the chieftain's wife praying to Odin, the god of battle and death. I could tell that she did not want the chieftain to die. Our prayers were interrupted, as the Viking told us that the chieftain's intestine had been pierce that he would die. In a land so cultured, where people including woman had rights and could own property, slaves were not worth anything and did not own any rights. I could do nothing as the free adults declared me an outlaw. Of course It did not change the fact that I had no rights to begin with, but it made me seem weaker like an old spider ready to collapse into dust and be blown away by the wind. Tears ran down my cheeks as I realized that I could die. Anyone could kill me at anytime. I would not be able to see Mary get better. I would not be able to become a novice, then a monk. I have no rights in a foreign country filled with savage Vikings all ready to kill. I cannot forget reality; I must fight against my fait. I must go now and spend what time I have left to live. I promise to write about anything new… of I am still alive tomorrow.