We touched horns and dedicated our deaths to St Olaf. It is good to get well and truly slaughtered now and then.

Heroic, virile and unsoftened by luxurious living, the Norsemen pointed their storm-tossed sea ploughs down the great rivers of Russia to the Caspian and the Black Sea.

In the west, these hairy-headed men of daring resoluteness, seekers after the ideal, sailed in their wave-kissed longboats along the Atlantic coast, past Arabic Spain, through the Straits of Gibraltar and into the Mediterranean.

The most courageous and battle-hardened warriors even voyaged as far as the Outer Hebrides.

Marauding hordes of Vikings, dexterous seal hunters and fearless drinkers to a man (and woman), reached across the wide unknown Atlantic and conquered as far afield as Iceland, Greenland and America.

Vikings don’t die and go to Valhalla. They go to Moesgaard in Denmark – where death is a moot point.

Every summer, hundreds of modern-day Vikings meet on the strand at the mouth of the Giber river at the city of Aarhus in Denmark for three days of mayhem.

This year, the fun runs from July 25 and 26 and tickets cost 50 Danish kroner (€6.70) for adults, while children go free.

The Moesgaard Moot is one of many Viking festivals held around Europe.

There is a zero-tolerance policy on raping and pillaging, but the drinking is mandatory. Wenching is optional.

“A true Viking never sheathes his seax [a type of dagger]! Moesgaard is our Woodstock,” said Andy from Cardiff, offering me a half-litre horn of Carlsberg.

“Everyone turns up very thirsty. They are all in flowing locks, braided smocks and by the end of the festival smell very like the Vikings must have.

“Pretty much every country is represented. Everyone seems to have Vikings, except Australia. I’ve not met many really committed modern-day Vikings from Down Under.”

The moot, which celebrates the festival of St Olaf, was started in 1977 by a local Icelandic horse group and a few keen archers.

Moesgaard has a well-known museum of pre-history, which is about two kilometres from the festival site.

Horse races are held in the surf. There is also a longboat regatta and popular market. Viking weddings are sometimes held.

But most of the 20,000-odd visitors come for the feasting and fighting, with two epic battles taking place each day.

Some people work off their aggression on a squash court. We do it by trying to gain entry to Valhalla

Frenchman Claude, a chartered accountant during the week and a Viking at the weekend, said: “I am a slave of civilisation during the week and an enemy of it over the weekend!

“But all I plunder is the beer tent. It’s is an alternative lifestyle offering an alternate social life.”

Alex, a London librarian, opined: “You can’t beat a bit of blood vengeance on the battlefield, then having a beer afterwards with the person you ran through with a yard of steel.

“Some people work off their aggression on a squash court or a rugby pitch. We do it by trying to gain entry into Valhalla! It’s all good fun and educational too.

“The Vikings have had some bad press. The chronicles of the ninth century branded them as murderous heathens. Actually, they were good lads out for a laugh.”

While Rob, a computer programmer from Ireland, said: “The Viking scene is very active. We can learn a lot from the Vikings. They were the last free men of a free society.

“To rediscover our past is to build our future. We all have an anarchic streak. I am pagan and proud of it.”

“Moesgaard gives good pre-history milieux,” added Dutch Viking Peter – an army tank driver and “living history freak”.

“Our century dulls spirituality. The Vikings had a unique way of doing things. They were frontiersmen. They were the first European explorers, the first long-haul travellers. All the raping and pillaging is Church propaganda.

“What do you expect? Christianity was imposed on people at the end of a sword in order to put the majority under the control of the select few.”

A burly arm went around my shoulder. “To take life as it comes, to learn by experience, to scorn death, to cherish friendship and not practise deceit. These are the cornerstones of Viking philosophy. Come join us. Do us the honour of joining us to die in battle.”

We touched our cow horns together and drank a deep toast to the great Odin.

“To the chief god of the northern pantheon! Giver of victory and god of the dead – receive our slain souls!”

“Frigg,” someone said. So we toasted his wife too. Then we toasted Olaf again. The tent was still serving so the toasts continued.

“To the son of Sitric, King of Deira. To the great Anlaf, Danish king of Northumbria and Dublin!” we cried, emptying our horns.

Then Phil from Wales let out a piercing scream and ran off down the field to weigh into the enemy.

I gulped down another beer and, with a deafening war cry, stumbled off after him, trying not to hiccup in my battle fury.

What’s the point in living if you can’t go berserk now and then?