Helgi

Hegie Butherson / Helgie rig Skeleg


Birthed in Roskilde in the land of the Danes, I am Helgie, the second son of a minor theign called Buther and his wife Gila.
This high social standing allowed me the opportunity to take an apprenticeship as a jeweller as well as the luxury to bow hunt for enjoyment not just for food. However, as with many of my peers, I also trained in the art of war. Not only with the axe, but with spear and sword as befitting my status.


Inheritance was not in my fate, but summer raids were, as the plunder of Saxon gold was an opportunity too good to forgo. And these raids fared well enough for a few years, until I met with a Danish warband under the command of Jarl Orm, a nomadic collective who went on to call England home. This roaming village happily took me into their fold, and before long I married a member of the jarls household, Broomhilda.


Ensuring a full belly, overflowing mead cup and all in all, a comfortable life for my wife and myself was priority, so I turned to my semi precious metal and leather working skills, as jewellery commanded a coinage that people increasingly lacked.


Viking blood still runs through these veins though, so if I cared not for you, false weights would see our transaction to my benefit. And the gullible are glorious fodder for my sarcasm.

Age and many years worth of hard won wounds have taken their toll however, and cynicism is its price. So I have left the sword and spear to the eager youth in favour of the bow. No longer shall I sacrifice myself to the shield wall and falling axes. No longer shall I sacrifice my comfort. No longer shall I sacrifice my good life. And no longer shall I suffer fools, especially when they are so much fun to play with.


My fate is now to enjoy life. To be enjoyed by my wife. To make merry in comfort, with our kin and clan. And finally, to derive much pleasure from the ill gotten gains of Saxon duping. Side by side with my wife and partner in crime, our creative talents are far from laid waste, as it turns out that Saxons pay a pretty price for manuscript, and when we obtained the Lichfield Gospels, many a page was recreated by our own hands, and in parts, sold and bartered to the unwitting clergy.

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