THE SAXONS
These sea robbers were the Angles and the Saxons, and Britain became
Angleland or England. They were fine men, tall and strong, with long
fair hair and blue eyes. The Britons gazed in wonder as boat after boat
glided into the bays. Graceful, brightly coloured boats they were, with
forty oars on each side and a magnificent sail, sometimes made of silk,
embroidered with a dragon or a serpent, the gift of a great prince may
be. Every sailor, as he stepped ashore, became a soldier, armed himself
with his shield which he took from the vessel's side, and a sword, the
best in the world, dearer to him than all other treasures, made by the
chief, or by a famous blacksmith.
The Britons marked the chief long before he landed, for he stood at the
prow or gave orders. His corselet was of beaten gold or bronze, his
helmet too. If indeed he were a great champion, he carried on his
helmet a pair of eagle's wings, or a cock's comb, as the reward of his
bravery and skill in battle. All these men had been soldiers since they
were twelve years old. They had learned "to run, to ride, to swim, to
wrestle and to leap," so it is no wonder that the Britons fled before
them in terror. Some fell into the hands of these stern warriors and
became their servants, but those who lived in peace in the mountains of
the west were called "Welsh," i.e. "foreigners," by all who heard of
them afterwards. The Scots vanished into their fastnesses and the
Saxons became lords of Britain.
The Saxons loved fighting and hunting, but when the hunt and the fight
were over they came back to their spacious halls, where they hung up
their swords and trophies and gathered round the banquet table or sat
by the fire, making rhymes and listening to the tales and songs of the
gleemen. While the mead cup was being passed round, they heard the
songs about the gods and the great heroes of old, and sometimes they
liked to think that Odin took a seat amongst them and told his tale.
Odin, the one-eyed father of all the gods, crept in with a scarlet
cloak wrapped round him, feasted with them, and, at dawn, the doors of
the hall opened mysteriously, a great wind blew, and he was gone.
They had many stories about the gods and Valhalla, the home of the
spirits, whither every good soldier hoped to journey at the end of his
life. Thor was the great god of thunder; you could see his red beard,
when the Northern light shone in the winter sky. Sometimes he drove by
in his chariot with the sound of a storm, the lightning was the flash
of his eye, and the thunder his mighty hammer striking the rocks as he
passed.
The most beloved of the gods of the northmen was Baldur, the god of
Spring. Once, he had a dream that a great cloud passed over him, and
his mother, in sorrow, summoned all the things upon the earth to
promise never to hurt her son. Everything promised, the mountains and
the trees and the rocks and the rivers, everything except the little
mistletoe, which grew at the palace gate and was so small that nobody
thought it could do any harm. But Loki, the god of mischief, Baldur's
brother, guided the hand of blind Hödur and so killed Baldur with an
arrow made from the mistletoe.
Odin was very angry when he heard the news and mounted his war horse to
ride to Valhalla, to fetch Baldur from the home of the spirits. But the
old witch, who sat at the gates, would not let Baldur return to the
earth until she heard that everything on the earth was weeping for him.
Everything did weep, except Loki and the little mistletoe. So the witch
allows Baldur to come back for three months every year, and then the
earth puts on her freshest green, the flowers blossom, the corn ripens,
and gods and men rejoice. Thus, the Saxons showed how much they loved
the sunshine and the warmth and the south winds that come in the summer
time.
When a hero died, the Saxons sent him on his journey to Valhalla, with
food enough to last a week and with all his treasures, his sword and
helmet, his hunting trophies and his most loved things. They liked best
of all to send him on his boat across the unknown seas. They towed it
to the harbour mouth, set fire to it, when the sun was going down,
shouting as they watched it drift away, "Odin, receive thy Champion."
They fancied Odin sat in the far North with all the gods waiting to
welcome a brave man and to give him a seat of honour in his hall. For
the Saxons thought a brave soldier the noblest of all men.