449 & All That

It was VK-day along Britain's Kentish coast. The 80-foot, dragon-prowed Viking-style Hugin* was beached, and from it poured 53 warriors with knives between their teeth and spears in their hands. Several of the invaders wore horn-rimmed spectacles under their horned helmets; all had month-old beards. None of the 50,000 waiting Britons ran away.

The invasion was a promotion stunt cooked up to encourage tourist trade and to commemorate the landing in 449 of the Saxon chiefs Henges & Horsa. To greet last week's seafaring Danes (and put them in their place), a British band struck up Britannia, Rule the Waves.

Viking Chief Eric Kiersgaard was glad of a chance to stand up, even under the hot sun; he had developed abscesses from sitting on the Hugin's wooden thwarts. The big red-and-white-striped sail had helped; but the crew had worked so hard at the oars that they had worn out the seats of their Wagnerian costumes, borrowed from Copenhagen's Royal Opera Company.

The welcoming Britons were in holiday mood; children carried British and Danish flags and ice-cream cones. The crowd was so anxious to see the warriors (in private life Danish dockers, policemen, tradesmen and bricklayers) that they crashed the press seats and part of the official committee's platform. Toasts were drunk in mead, a drink brewed from honey. Hengest & Horsa used to love mead, but 1949's perspiring Vikings gave the impression that they would rather have had some cool beer. The Danes plan to sell the Hugin (it cost $12,000) and go back to Denmark on the oarless Danish patrol vessel Thetis.* They have already arranged to sell their beards, for $1,000, to a Danish manufacturer of razor blades.

* Named for one of the two ravens that, according to Norse mythology, brought to the god Odin the world's news.

* The former British corvette H.M.S. Geranium.

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