HOW TO DEFEND AGAINST VIKINGS
The Viking first came to our house last week after my bed time. The roar of his car woke me. I heard him bang on the front door, trying to break it down. He must have bullied Mum’s name from a neighbour, because I heard him shout, “Sinead, are you there?” I thought about Dad, away on business, unable to defend our settlement. I was about to get out of bed and vanquish him when Mum raced downstairs.
“Will you be fucking quiet,” she said, and I could hear the anger in her voice.
“Sorry,” the Viking said, already on the brink of retreat. Good, I thought. She’s fighting him off. I stood on my bed and watched his red dragon of a car fly away.
I’d been studying Vikings at school before Dad left. I told him about all of it: how the boats Vikings used for raids were called “longships”; that the monks built round towers to protect themselves; the founding of Dublin; the Battle of Clontarf, and Brian Boru’s victory over the invaders.
