Tracking down Eric Bloodaxe

THEY were a bloodthirsty lot, those Vikings. When Danish marauders first attacked York in 866, storming the remains of the Roman city walls, there was, according to the Anglo Saxon Chronicle, 'great slaughter'.

It's not difficult to believe. The last Viking King of York was called Eric Bloodaxe, after all. Hardly a name with which to comfort mothers and babes in arms.

It's easy to see why the Vikings should have been drawn across the North Sea. England in the ninth and tenth centuries was a rich, prosperous, fertile land - and almost entirely unprotected. Rich pickings, for those ready to take them.

At first, says archaeologist and director of the Jorvik Centre Richard Kemp, they didn't stay. They raided and pillaged, then headed back across the North Sea in their longships. But by 865 AD a Danish army had spent a winter on English soil: and the Viking occupation truly began.

Even today the name Bloodaxe can send shivers down the spine. But who was this man, and where did he come from? How did he live in his own land: and why did he come here?

I decided to find out: to track Bloodaxe back to his ancestral home at the great Norwegian royal residence of Avaldsnes, dominating the sea-lanes on the island of Karmoy at the south west tip of Norway.

With me on my mission of discovery came Richard Kemp and one of York's own Vikings: a tall, blond-haired Valkyrie in full Viking dress named .... Shona Griffiths.

Not a Viking name, Shona agreed in a broad Scots accent, looking at me out of Viking eyes. "You're talking to a Scottish Viking married to a Welshman."

Shona, it turns out, spends much of her time greeting visitors to the Jorvik Centre and giving them the full Viking experience.

She has, though, almost certainly got Viking blood in her veins, she insists. "I think it would be difficult to live in the North of England or Scotland and not have some."

It probably took the Vikings up to three days to cross the storm-lashed North Sea. Shona, Richard and I made it from Newcastle to Stavanger in southern Norway in an hour flat - courtesy of Braathens, Norway's premier, private-owned airline.

Our journey in search of Eric Bloodaxe wasn't all plain sailing, though.

From Stavanger, we made for the port. There, an ocean-going launch was waiting to greet us. Like the Vikings before us, we set sail across the grey, choppy waters of the Boknafjord: the great inlet of the North Sea that is gateway to the southern fjords.

Our little boat butted against the waves, sending up clouds of spray. Islands - jagged outcrops of rock - passed to left and right. There's an island in these waters, we were told, for every day of the year.

In the boat, we brushed up on our history. Eric Bloodaxe was, apparently, the son of the great Norwegian king Harald Fairhair, who unified Norway into one kingdom in about AD 870. Karmoy, the island home of Harald's royal palace at Avaldsnes, is a long, thin strip of land, lashed by the North Sea waves, that dominates the entrance to Norway's southern fjords.

The Bloodaxe was a great warrior, apparently, but violent and bloody. This made him unpopular: so when Harald Fairhair died, Eric's half-brother Hakon the Good became King. Eric fled to England, where in 848 he became King of York.

As we left Stavanger behind, we moved out of the shelter of the Sande headland into open water and the full force of the waves hit us, rocking our little boat like a piece of matchwood. Easy to imagine what these waters must have been like in a frail longship.

To the west of Karmoy island, our Norwegian skipper Frank Suanes told us, the sea is treacherous - filled with underwater currents and skerries. Instead, we butted through the heaving, flinty grey water towards the Karmsundet: the narrow passageway that separates Karmoy from the mainland. Karmsundet is the main sea route north: the name, in Norwegian, means the 'way north' or Norway.

Here, the water is relatively calm: but grey and icy. Low rocky land lay to either side. Occasionally, an ocean-going cargo ship passed, dwarfing our little boat.

After an hour, a narrow wooden pier jutted out from a small bay on Karmoy's sheltered eastern side. Avaldsnes.

No sign of the royal palace now. But a Viking longship lay in the water. The wind sighed in the pines lining the shore and across the bay, St Olav's Church, first built by the Christian king Hakon Hakonson in about 1250 AD, was outlined against the sky. Archaeologists have uncovered a hidden secret passage nearby - which they believe could have been an escape route from the ancient royal residence itself.

It could have been from this very spot, I thought, as we edged in to the pier, that Eric Bloodaxe set sail with his men 1,150 years ago to claim the throne of York.

In a little clearing in the pines above the bay, archaeologists have reconstructed a Viking farm: a long, low, wooden building with a roof like an upturned Viking longboat. Inside, it was dark. Orange light from a central fire flickered on the walls. Wolfskins were stretched to dry on racks: beside the fire spears and wooden shields rested against the wall. Smoke from the fire streamed up to a hole in the roof: but the air was filled with woodsmoke nonetheless.

Here, in this education centre and living museum, where parties can come for Viking banquets and spend the night in a Viking farmhouse, we met some real Vikings at last: fierce-looking men with swords buckled round their waists and cloaks draped over their shoulders.

Their leader's name was Andy De Martine from Stamford Bridge: but don't let that put you off. He knows his Vikings.

We talked around the fire. Before we left, Andy did his best to convince us that despite his fierce appearance the Vikings had been misrepresented. They weren't - as staff at the Jorvik centre will be quick to confirm - just bloodthirsty pirates but farmers too; growing oats and barley, keeping cows, pigs, goats and chickens.

"This particular area of Norway is very rich," he said. "It always has been. There was no problem with food. A raid was a risk. If you've got a nice life here, you can support your family, why do you need to dash off across the North Sea?"

They did, though, in search of English plunder. And who knows how many Vikings are walking around York today - descendants, perhaps, of the soldiers of York's last Viking king, Eric Bloodaxe.

Stephen Lewis travelled to Newcastle courtesy of GNER and flew to Stavanger with Braathens. Return flights are available from Newcastle for £75 plus tax (about £120 in total). For information call Braathens on 0191 214 0991.

PICTURE: York's own Scottish Viking Shona Griffiths sitting by the landing stage at Avaldsnes where Eric Bloodaxe may have set sail for England.