Vikings Page #5

22.

EARL HARALDSON:

Granted. Your execution will take

place tomorrow. And afterwards we

shall feast and discuss the summer

raids.

EXT. KATTEGAT - DAY

To jeers and shouts, Olaf Anwend runs the gauntlet of stones

and turf. He staggers down the line of people, women as well

as men, throwing the missiles at him.

Bjorn watches with Ragnar, at first enjoying the comic

aspects of the scene - then wincing slightly as Olaf is

struck by stone after stone, staggers, and starts to bleed.

Ragnar offers the boy a stone. Bjorn looks uncertain.

RAGNAR:

You have to.

A beat. Ragnar turns and throws the stone himself at Anwend,

hitting his leg. Anwend struggles on, everyone still enjoying

the comedic aspects. With a laugh Rollo throws a large rock

at Anwend, which hits his head and makes him cry out with

pain.

Bjorn grabs a handful of turf and throws it, missing easily

and deliberately.

Bleeding heavily, but alive, Anwend crawls the last few yards

to the end of the line, where with renewed hilarity a bucket

of cold water is poured over his bleeding head, and he

emerges - grinning like a madman.

Then Earl Haraldson and his entourage appear, the housecarls

bringing Eric Trygvasson to his execution. Trygvasson’s

hands, unlike at the trial, are now unbound, and he walks

resolutely up to the wooden block on which he will be

decapitated.

He smiles at the crowds gathered around him, and acknowledges

the dead man’s family.

BJORN:

Why is he smiling, father?

RAGNAR:

He wants to die well, of course,

without fear. To atone for his

sins.

23.

Bjorn looks puzzled.

ROLLO:

Cattle die, kinsfolk die, we

ourselves must die. But one thing I

know will never die - a dead man’s

reputation. Remember that, young

Bjorn.

Trygvasson kneels on the grass and puts his head on the

stone. A HOUSECARL with an axe approaches, first lays the

blade of the axe flat on his head, then presents the blade

for him to kiss. Trygvasson kisses the blade eagerly, and

almost tenderly.

Bjorn turns his head away.

RAGNAR:

You must watch - for his sake. This

is his only hope of reaching

Valhalla.

Bjorn forces himself to watch.

The axe falls, striking off Trygvasson’s head, which rolls

away into the grass.

Earl Haraldson picks up the head and contemptuously tosses it

to the dead man’s family.

EARL HARALDSON:

Here. Feed it to your pigs. I curse

him. May he never enter Valhalla.

Ragnar looks shocked. He’s not the only one.

BJORN:

Why did he do that?

RAGNAR:

I don’t know. He should not have

done. Not according to our law. He

must have wanted that land himself.

And he exchanges a meaningful glance with Rollo.

EXT. BOAT - DAY

The oars of a small boat slice cleanly into the waters of the

fyord. Bjorn stares down silently into the water, but the

reflections on its surface make it seem like the mountains

are in the water.

24.

Ragnar rows, keeping close to the shore, beneath the lee of

the overhanging cliffs and slopes of scree which fall sheer

to the fyord.

Bjorn drops a smooth round pebble into the water and watches

it drop and drop, deeper and deeper into the clear depths.

Bjorn watches his father row.

BJORN:

Now where are we going, father?

RAGNAR:

To visit a friend.

BJORN:

A friend? What’s his name?

RAGNAR:

His name is Floki.

Bjorn stares at the high, snow-capped hills, the great,

almost overwhelming beauty of it.

BJORN:

Like Loki, the god?

RAGNAR:

Yes, like Loki. Only... different.

BJORN:

How is he different?

RAGNAR:

Well...

(thinks)

He’s not a god.

Bjorn laughs.

BJORN:

Why didn’t he come to the Thing?

A long beat. Oars slice through the deep still waters. One

could well imagine that the gods were here, among these

unnaturally beautiful, silent places.

RAGNAR:

Because he’s...because he’s shy.

CUT TO:

25.

EXT. BAY - DAY

They’ve pulled the boat onto a narrow beach in a hidden bay.

There’s no sign of habitation.

They walk up a steep path through the trees.

When a FIGURE leaps out at them, wearing a fierce mask, and

with a hideous screech.

Bjorn is shocked...but still calm enough to draw out his

hunting knife.

Ragnar laughs.

RAGNAR:

It’s all right. Put your knife

away.

(beat)

Floki, meet my son. Bjorn...this is

my dear friend Floki.

FLOKI rips off his mask, and grins. He has a strange,

mischievous, almost ageless face, ugly but animated, with

bright, piercing eyes.

FLOKI:

Hello. How are you?

BJORN:

Well, thank you...sir.

Floki stares at his face.

FLOKI:

Let me see. You have your father’s

eyes - unfortunately.

RAGNAR:

Why unfortunately?

FLOKI:

It means he will be like you. And

therefore he will want to do better

than you. And you will hate him for

it.

RAGNAR:

He’s only twelve years old.

26.

BJORN:

How can you tell that by just

looking at my face?

FLOKI:

It’s the same with trees.

BJORN:

With trees?

FLOKI:

Yes. I can tell which trees will

make the best planks just by

looking at them. I can look inside

the tree.

RAGNAR:

Floki is a boat-builder.

Bjorn stares around at the deeply-forested hill they are on.

BJORN:

So - you could tell which of these

trees would make the best planks

for a ship?

Floki grins...then abruptly walks off the path, and into the

trees. They follow him.

For their POV - and from ours - all the trees look the same,

virtually identical.

But Floki stares at them with a strange, bewitching

intensity....touching the trunks of some of them, laying his

cheek against the bark, staring up at the uppermost branches.

Whatever amusement Bjorn might derive from seeing a man

staring at trees is quickly confounded by the aura of

spiritual intensity which surrounds Floki. He’s no ordinary

mortal. It’s not possible to laugh at the way he examines the

bark of tress, or caresses them, or simply just looks at

them.

Floki is different. Strange but compelling. Authentic.

FLOKI:

(suddenly)

This is one.

He indicates a tree - to the others, just like the rest of

the trees...and yet. Floki strokes the trunk.

27.

FLOKI (CONT’D)

Inside this tree are two almost

perfect planks. They will bend,

then curve, like a woman’s body,

from the thigh to the back. When I

split the tree I will find them.

He marks the tree with a couple of blows from his axe.

Bjorn laughs.

BJORN:

You can see that?

FLOKI:

Do you think I’m joking? I joke

about many things, son of Ragnar,

but never about ship-building. Our

boats are our souls.

Bjorn looks abashed - embarrassed.

RAGNAR:

So - how is our boat?

Floki looks back at him. And grins.

FLOKI:

Ah...

CUT TO:

INT. BOAT-YARD - DAY

A secret, turf-covered shed close by the edge of the water.

Gloomy - but slightly “religious” in the way the space is lit

by tallow candles.

Watched by Ragnar and Bjorn, Floki uncovers the skeleton of a

a new boat. It’s still in a rudimentary shape, its spars

naked. Even so, Ragnar is immediately entranced.

FLOKI:

What do you think, Ragnar Lothrok?

RAGNAR:

It’s bigger! The hull’s deeper.

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