Above, milestones in my pilgrimage with Erling Skjalgsson. On top, me with Erling Skjalgsson’s memorial stone in Stavanger, sometime around 2003. Below that, me playing Viking at Hafrsfjord, on Erling’s turf, in 2022.

When I stand before the Last Judgment and the Lord asks me, “What did you do with the talent I entrusted to you?” my answer, I guess, will be, “Well, I spent about 50 years writing Erling’s saga.” Will that be a satisfactory answer? I don’t know.

Writing-wise, I’m deep in anticlimax territory now, just tying up loose ends. I don’t think I’ll be done with the first draft of The Baldur Game tomorrow, but it will be soon. There’ll still be plenty of work left to do, of course – editing, polishing, tying up plot threads. But the tale will essentially be told very soon now, the formation formed. A stage on my journey finished.

I don’t remember exactly when it was that I first settled on Erling Skjalgsson as the Viking hero I’d write about. Reading Heimskringla, the sagas of the kings of Norway, I always found him a puzzling character. The main episodes where he showed up were impressive. Snorri Sturlusson, the author, must have had a soft spot for him. We meet him first when his powerful kinsmen offer him as a bridegroom for King Olaf Trygvesson’s sister, and he surprises everyone by turning down the title of jarl (and the more you understand about Norse society, the more surprising that decision is). Then he gets mentioned here and there, first as a supporter of Olaf Trygvesson, then as an opponent of (Saint) Olaf Haraldsson. We learn that, to his credit, he runs a self-help program to help his slaves buy their freedom. He really stands out when he rescues his nephew Asbjorn from the king’s justice in a dramatic scene at Avaldsnes, And at last Snorri gives him a stirring, Alamo-style death scene. But there’s also the suggestion that he’s a traitor.

I realized Erling was local to me. Sola, where he lived, was not far at all from where some of my ancestors came from, near Stavanger. And Avaldsnes was where my great-grandfather Walker grew up.

But what clinched it for me was acquiring  enough historic insight to understand what Erling was all about. It may have been reading Prof. Torgrim Titlestad (whose book I’d later translate) that helped me to get it, or maybe I’d begun to work it out myself as my political sensibilities matured. I honestly can’t remember. But Erling suddenly fit all the criteria I’d begun setting when I first pondered writing a Viking novel as a kid.

Of course it still didn’t come together until, sometime in the late 1980s, I guess, while I was living in Florida, Father Ailill burst on my mind. Ailill would be my bridge character, my hobbit – the Everyman who’d interpret the Viking world for the reader. I thought, “I can make this work.”

Remains to be seen, of course, but I like how it’s coming along.

When I’m not feeling melancholy about saying goodbye.