OLAF THE GLORIOUS
A STORY OF THE VIKING AGE

BY ROBERT LEIGHTON



PREFACE


The following narrative is not so much a story as a biography. My
hero is not an imaginary one; he was a real flesh and blood man who
reigned as King of Norway just nine centuries ago. The main facts
of his adventurous career--his boyhood of slavery in Esthonia, his
life at the court of King Valdemar, his wanderings as a viking, the
many battles he fought, his conversion to Christianity in England,
and his ultimate return to his native land--are set forth in the
various Icelandic sagas dealing with the period in which he lived. I
have made free use of these old time records, and have added only
such probable incidents as were necessary to give a continuous
thread of interest to the narrative. These sagas, like the epics
of Homer, were handed down from generation to generation by word
of mouth, and they were not committed to writing until a long time
after Olaf Triggvison's death, so that it is not easy to discriminate
between the actual facts as they occurred and the mere exaggerated
traditions which must surely have been added to the story of his
life as it was told by the old saga men at their winter firesides.
But in most instances the records corroborate each other very
exactly, and it may be taken that the leading incidents of the
story are historically true.

The Icelandic sagas have very little to say concerning Olaf
Triggvison's unsuccessful invasion of England, and for this part
of the story I have gone for my facts to the English chronicles
of the time, wherein frequent allusion to him is made under such
names as Anlaf, Olave, and Olaff. The original treaty of peace
drawn up between King Ethelred the Second and Olaf still exists to
fix the date of the invasion, while the famous battle of Maldon,
in which the Norse adventurer gained a victory over the East
Anglians, is described at length by a nameless contemporary poet,
whose "Death of Brihtnoth" remains as one of the finest of early
English narrative poems, full of noble patriotism and primitive
simplicity.

I have given no dates throughout these pages, but for the convenience
of readers who may wish for greater exactness it may be as well
to state here that Olaf was born A.D. 963, that he started on his
wanderings as a viking in the year 981, that the sea fight between
the vikings of Jomsburg and the Norwegians took place in 986, and
the battle of Maldon in the year 991. Olaf reigned only five years
as King of Norway, being crowned in 995, and ending his reign with
his death in the glorious defeat at Svold in the year 1000.

ROBERT LEIGHTON.



CHAPTER I: THE FINDING OF OLAF


It happened in the beginning of the summer that Sigurd Erikson
journeyed north into Esthonia to gather the king's taxes and tribute.
His business in due course brought him into a certain seaport that
stood upon the shores of the great Gulf of Finland.

He was a very handsome man, tall and strong, with long fair hair and
clear blue eyes. There were many armed servants in his following,
for he was a person of great consequence, and was held in high
honour throughout the land.

He rode across the marketplace and there alighted from his horse,
and turned his eyes towards the sea. Before him stretched the
rippling, sunlit bay with its wooded holms. A fleet of fishing boats
was putting out with the flood tide, and some merchant vessels lay
at anchor under shelter of the green headland.

Nearer to the strand a long dragonship, with a tall gilded prow
rising high above the deck tent, was moored against a bank of hewn
rock that served as a wharf. At sight of the array of white shields
along this vessel's bulwarks his eyes brightened, for he knew that
she was a viking ship from his own birth land in distant Norway,
and he was glad. Not often did it chance that he could hold speech
with the bold warriors of the fiords.

Close by the ship there was a noisy crowd of men and boys. He
strode nearer to them, and heard the hoarse voices of the vikings
calling out in loud praise of a feat that had been performed
by someone in their midst. Sigurd joined the crowd, and saw a boy
step out upon the vessel's narrow gangplank, and there, standing
between the ship and the shore, begin to throw a knife high up into
the sunny air, catching it as it fell.

It seemed that the lad was of good station, for his clothing was
of finely woven cloth, and there was a gold neckband to his kirtle,
and his long black hair was well combed and curled. Thrice he threw
up his glittering knife high above his head and deftly caught it
again. But soon, thinking perhaps to excel those who had gone before
him, he took a second knife from his belt, and juggled with them
both with such skill that the shipmen watching him from under the
awning swore by the hammer of Thor that the feat could never be
surpassed.

"Well done, well done!" they shouted. And the boys on the bank
cried out, "Well done, Rekoni!"

At this the youth put fuller strength into his arms and flung the
knives yet higher into the air. But his ambition for the praise of
the warriors was greater than his caution, for, in reaching forward
to catch one of the weapons, he lost his balance and fell headlong
into the deep green water beneath. And as he swam to shore the
vikings laughed aloud, and some who had thought of giving him a
reward put back their gold into their wallets and turned away.

Now, very close to where Sigurd Erikson was there stood two boys,
whose close cropped hair and dress of coarse white vadmal showed
them to be slaves. One of them was a tall, gaunt youth, with pale
thin cheeks and large sad eyes. He was fair of skin, and by this
Sigurd knew that he was not an Esthonian. His companion seemed
about twelve winters old, sturdy and broad backed, with very fair
hair. His neck and bare strong arms were burnt by the sun to a ruddy
brown. Sigurd could not see his face, and might not have noticed
him had not the elder lad urged him forward, bidding him step upon
the plank and show his skill.

"Not I," said the younger, with an impatient toss of his cropped
head. And he thrust his thumbs into his belt and drew back. "Too
much have I already done in bidding Rekoni try the feat. Well is
it for me that he is not hurt by his fall into the sea, else would
his father's whip be about my back. Even as the matter stands, my
master will surely stop my food for having left his sheep to stray
upon the hills."

"I had but wished to see you succeed where your master's son has
failed," sighed the elder lad. And at this the boy turned round
and said more softly:

"Well, Thorgils, for your pleasure will I do it, and not for the
vikings' praise. Lend me your dirk."

So he took the knife from Thorgils' belt, and, leaving the crowd,
walked boldly to the end of the gangplank. Here he rubbed the soles
of his bare feet in the dust and then stepped to the middle of the
narrow board.

"Now what thinks this child that he can do?" cried one of the
vikings.

The boy turned sharply and looked at the man who had spoken. He was
a tall, red bearded man, whose nose was flat against his scarred,
bronzed face. At sight of him the boy drew back a pace as if in
fear.

"Ay. What thinks the babe that he can do?" echoed another of the
warriors. But those who were nearer made no answer, for they saw
that the boy was very agile and strong beyond his years.

Sigurd watched him as he took his stand on the plank. The sunlight
shone upon his fair young face. His clear blue eyes flashed like
stars under his knitted brows. He ran his fingers over his short
yellow hair, and then, turning with his back to the sun, flung one
of his knives high up into the air. As it turned in its descent
he flung a second knife, then caught the first and again threw it
high--higher even than the vane on the ship's tall mast. He stood
with his bare feet firmly gripping the plank, and his head thrown
back, and his lithe, well balanced body swaying in regular movement
with his arms. Then as the two gleaming weapons were well in play,
rising and falling in quick succession, one of his hands went to
his belt, and he drew yet a third knife and plied it in turn with
the other two.

At this there was a murmur of praise from both ship and shore, and
the vikings declared that never before had they seen one so young
display such skill. And all the while Sigurd Erikson kept his eyes
upon the lad's glowing, upturned face.

"Who is this child?" he asked of the tall youth at his side. But
the sad eyed Thorgils paid no heed to the question, but only crept
nearer to the end of the gangboard, and stood there earnestly
watching. As he looked at the ship's bulwarks he caught sight
of the man with the red beard and broken nose--the chief of the
vikings,--and he cried out to his companion:

"Enough, Ole, enough!"

Then the boy caught his knives and thrust them one by one into his
belt, and, turning shoreward, strode quickly down the plank and
made his way through the cheering crowd, followed by Thorgils. Many
of the vikings called him back with offers of reward, and Sigurd
Erikson tried to arrest him as he passed. But the young slave only
gave a careless laugh and ran swiftly away.

Now it seemed that Sigurd had a mind to go after him. But as he
was leaving the crowd he met a certain rich merchant of the town,
and he said:

"Tell me, Biorn, who is this yellow haired lad that has just proved
himself so skilful at the knife feat? And whence came he into
Esthonia?"

The merchant shook his head and said:

"He is a wild and wilful loon, hersir, and of no account to any man.
As to his feat with the knives, had I my will I'd have it instant
death to any thrall who should so much as touch a sharpened weapon."

"By his looks I would judge him to be Norway born," said Sigurd.

"That may well be," returned the merchant, "for it is true that he
came with the west wind. It was I who bought him from the vikings,
with another of his kind--one Thorgils, who is to this day my bond
slave. I bought them in exchange for a good he goat from Klerkon
Flatface. Very soon I found the younger lad was worthless. There
was little that I could do with him; so I sold him to a dalesman
named Reas, who gave me a very fine rain cloak for him; nor do I rue
my bargain, for the cloak is still in use and the lad is scarcely
of the value of his food and shelter."

"How do men name the lad?" inquired Sigurd. "And whose son is he?"

"Whose son he may be is no concern of mine," answered the merchant.
"Some viking's brat, it may be; for he has the viking spirit in
him, and the salt of the sea is in his veins. No landman can tame
him. As to his name, if ever he had one, 'tis certain he has none
now, and is only known as Reasthrall, for he is the thrall of Reas
the bonder."

"If it be that Reas will sell his thrall," said Sigurd, "then I would
willingly buy the lad, and take him back with me into Holmgard as
an offering to the Queen Allogia."

"Think twice ere you act so unkindly towards the queen," said the
merchant. "A goodlier gift for Allogia would surely be the jewelled
brooch that I showed you yesternight; and you shall have it very
cheap. The price is but twelve gold marks."

But before Sigurd could reply a heavy hand was laid upon his
shoulder, and a gruff voice called out his name. He turned and saw
at his side the tall red bearded viking chief, whose broken nose
and coarse scarred face were now shielded from the sun's rays by
a wide hat made of dry reeds.

"Well met, Hersir Sigurd!" said the warrior. "And what lordly business
brings you north to the coast? 'Tis long since last we met--not
since the yuletide feast at Holmgard, two winters back, when we had
the horse fight. How fares the Flanders mare that won such glory
at that time?"

"A sickness killed her," answered Sigurd. "But I have a foal in
training that will soon beat any horse in Holmgard; ay, even in
Norway. So if you have a mind to see a good horse fight, come when
you will with the best horses you can find. I wager you that mine
will beat them all."

"If I meet not my death before the end of the cruising season,"
said the viking, "then will I engage to bring you the best horse
in all the Norseland to fight against." He looked among the crowd
of boys that still loitered near the ship, and added--"Where has
the youngster gone who stood just now upon the plank? He has in
him the makings of a good war man. Such lads as he are scarce, and
I would buy him if he be for sale."

And then the merchant spoke.

"Why," said he, addressing the viking, "'tis but six summers since
that you sold that self same boy, here on this marketplace. 'Twas
I who bought him from you, Klerkon. Have you forgotten the white
haired he goat that you got from me?"

"Life is too full for me to keep mind of such small events,"
answered Klerkon. "But since the lad is yours, what price do you
now put upon him?"

"Nay, he is no chattel of mine," said the merchant. "He is the
thrall of goodman Reas, over in Rathsdale--a morning's walk from
here. If you would deal with him a guide will soon be got to take
you over the hill."

"Young flesh will keep," returned the warrior. "I will buy the lad
next time we come to Esthonia."

Sigurd said: "It may be that ere that time he will already be
sold, Jarl Klerkon; for it chances that I also have taken a fancy
to him."

"In that case," said the viking, "we may make him the stake to be
fought for in our coming horse fight. And if my horse overcomes
yours, then the lad shall be my prize, and I will make a viking of
him."

"And how if the victory be mine and not yours?" asked Sigurd.

"You shall have value equal to the boy, be assured of that, hersir."

"Agreed," said Sigurd. "And now, what news have you from west over
sea?"

"Ill news and good. There has fallen a great famine in Norway. In
Thrandheim the folk are dying for lack of corn and fish, and in
Halogaland the snow has lain over the valleys nigh until midsummer,
so that all the livestock have been bound in stall and fed upon
birch buds. Men lay the famine to the account of Gunnhild's sons,
who are over greedy of money and deal hardly with the husbandmen.
There is little peace in the land, for the kings are for ever
quarrelling over their jointures; but it seems that Harald Greyfell
is having the upper hand over his brothers. Little joy is there in
ruling over a realm these days. I had rather be as I am, an honest
sea rover."

"Doubtless the viking life is, after all, the most joyful that a
man can live," said Sigurd. "How fare our friends at Jomsburg?"

"Right well, as always," answered Klerkon. "Sigvaldi has built
himself a fine new dragonship of five and twenty seats, and the
Jomsvikings now number in all seven times ten hundred men. They
speak of making a sally across the sea to Angle land, where there
is corn and ale in plenty, with fine clothes, good arms, and vessels
of silver and gold to be won; for these Christian folk are very
rich, and there is abundance of treasure in their churches, with
many a golden bowl and well wrought drinking horn as booty for
those who are bold enough to make the adventure."

"But these Angles are good fighting men, I hear," said Sigurd. "And
they have many well built ships."

"They are ill matched against the vikings, with all their ships,"
returned Klerkon. "And I am told that their king is a man of peace;
Edgar the Peaceable, they name him. And talking of kings, how fares
King Valdemar?"

"As sunny as a summer's noon," answered Sigurd.

"Come, then, on board my ship, and let us pledge to him in a full
horn of mead," said the viking. And he drew Sigurd with him across
the gangplank, and they went below and sat drinking until one of
the shipmen standing on the vessel's lypting, or poop deck, sounded
a shrill horn as a sign that the ship was about to leave the harbour.

Then Sigurd came ashore and went about the town on the king's
business, and he thought no more of the yellow haired slave boy
until the evening time.

It chanced then that he was again beside the sea.

Down there on the shore he stood alone, idly watching the white
winged seabirds--some floating in their own reflections on the
calm pools of water left by the outgoing tide, others seeking food
amid the green and crimson weeds that lay in bright patches on
the rocks--and often he turned his eyes in the direction of the
setting sun, where, in the mid sea, Jarl Klerkon's dragonship moved
slowly outward, with her wet oars glistening in the rosy light.

Suddenly from behind him there came a merry childish laugh, and he
turned quickly round, and saw very near to him the white clothed
slave boy of the gangplank. The lad was standing at the brink of
a deep pool of seawater, and had, as it seemed, started a fleet of
empty mussel shells to float upon the calm surface. He was dropping
pebbles from his full hand into the water, to give movement to the
tiny boats.

Sigurd stepped quietly behind him, and then said:

"Why do you thus set these shells to sail?"

The boy looked up in surprise, and his blue eyes rested for a long
time upon the tall strange man. Then he answered:

"Because, hersir, they are my warships, setting out upon a viking
cruise."

At this Sigurd smiled.

"It may be, my boy," said he, "that you will yourself command great
ships of war in time to come."

"That is what I should wish," said the boy, "for then I might take
blood vengeance upon my enemies."

"Not often do I hear one so young thus speak of enemies," said
Sigurd. "What is your age?"

"Ten winters."

"And your name?"

The boy looked up once more into the stranger's face, and at his
large crested helmet of bronze and gold. He glanced, too, at the
man's great sword and his cloak of rich blue cloth, and guessed
rightly that he was of noble rank. There was a smile upon his lips,
and his eyes were tender and kindly, winning confidence.

"My name is Olaf," answered the boy.

"Whose son?" asked Sigurd.

At this question Olaf turned aside, threw his pebbles away into the
water, and wiped his wet hands on his coarse kirtle. Then stepping
nearer to the stranger he stood upright and said, almost in a
whisper, as though fearing that even the seagulls might overhear
him:

"I am King Triggvi's son."

Sigurd drew back with a little start.

"King Triggvi's son!" he echoed in surprise. And then he looked yet
more keenly into the boy's face, as if to seek some likeness there.

"Even so," returned Olaf. "And what of that? Little good can it do
me to be a king's son if I am also a slave, made to work hard for
my daily portion of black bread and tough horse flesh. Triggvi
is in Valhalla, with Harald Fairhair and the rest of them, and he
cannot help me now. But Odin be thanked, he died not like a cow
upon a bed of straw, but with sword in hand like a brave good man."

"A brave good man in truth he was," said Sigurd. "But tell me,
boy, what token have you to prove that you are indeed the child
of Triggvi Olafson? You are but ten winters old, you say; and yet,
as I reckon it, Triggvi was slain full ten winters back. How can
I know the truth of what you tell?"

"No token have I but my bare words," answered Olaf proudly.

Sigurd caught him by the hand and led him up the beach to a ledge
of rock, and sat him down before him, bidding him tell how it came
about that he was here in bondage in a foreign land.

So Olaf answered him thus:

"I came into the world an orphan," said he, "and never heard
my father's voice. But my mother bade me ever remember that I was
a king's son, and to make myself worthy. Astrid was the name of
my mother. She was the daughter of Erik Biodaskalli, who dwelt at
Ofrestead, in the Uplands, a mighty man. Now, after the slaying of
Triggvi, Queen Astrid was forced to fly from the realm of Viken,
lest she too should fall into the hands of Gunnhild and her wicked
sons and be slain. And she travelled as a fugitive through many
lands. In her company was her foster father, Thoralf Loosebeard by
name. He never departed from her, but always helped her and defended
her wheresoever she went. There were many other trusty men in her
train, so no harm came to her. And at last she took refuge on a
certain islet in the middle of Rand's fiord, and lay hidden there
for many days. On that islet I was born, and I am told that they
sprinkled me with water and named me Olaf, after my father's father.
There, through the summer tide she stayed in safety. But when the
days grew short and the nights weary and long, and when the wintry
weather came upon us, then she left her hiding place and set forth
with her folk into the Uplands, travelling under the shelter of
night. And after many hardships and dangers she came to Ofrestead,
her father's dwelling, and there we abode through the winter.

"Little do I remember of these matters, which befell while yet I was
a babe in arms. This that I tell you was taught to me by Thorgils,
my foster brother, who is the thrall of Biorn the merchant; and
he can tell you more than I know, for he is older than I, and the
son of our faithful Thoralf. Thorgils has said that when Gunnhild
got tidings that I had come into the world she sent forth many armed
messengers, and bade them fare into the Uplands in search of this
son of King Triggvi, that they might prevent my growing up to
manhood and claiming my father's realm. But in good time the friends
of Erik were aware of the messengers; so Erik arrayed Astrid for
departure, and gave her good guides, and sent her east--away into
the Swede realm to one Hakon Gamle, a friend of his and a man of
might, with whom we abode in all welcome for a long while."

"And what then?" urged Sigurd. For the boy had paused, and had pulled
a tangle of brown seaweed from the rock where he was sitting, and
was cracking the little air bladders between his fingers.

"Now it chanced," continued Olaf, "that even again Queen Gunnhild
secretly learned our hiding place. So she sent a goodly company
east to the Swede king with good gifts and fair words, asking that
he might send Olaf Triggvison back with them into Norway, where
Gunnhild would foster me, and bring me up as became a king's son.
And the king sent to Ofrestead. But my mother Astrid knew that there
was treachery in this--for in like manner had Gunnhild beguiled
my father,--and she would by no means let me go into the care'
of my father's murderers, and so Gunnhild's messengers went back
empty handed.

"By this time I was full three winters old and strong of limb, and
my mother took me on board a trading ship that was eastward bound
for Gardarike; for in that land her brother was a great man, and
she knew that he would gladly succour us until I should be of an
age to avenge my father's death and claim my rightful heritage."

At these words Sigurd grew very grave, and he put his hand gently
on Olaf's arm, and asked to know what ill had befallen Queen Astrid,
and whether she had reached her journey's end.

"Alas!" answered Olaf. "You ask me what I cannot tell. Would that
I knew her to be still living! But never once have I seen her or
heard tidings of her since the dread day when we were brought into
this land and sold into bondage."

As he spoke the lad looked sadly over the sea to where the viking
ship was slowly drifting into the shadow of the holms. Sigurd's
eyes dwelt upon him with curious intentness.

"We set sail across the Eastern Sea," Olaf went on "and there
were many merchants on our ship with great store of money and rich
merchandise. And, as always, Thoralf and his son Thorgils were with
us. Now, scarcely was our vessel beyond the sight of land when we
were met by a great viking ship, that bore down quickly upon us,
and attacked our seamen, first with arrows and stones, and then
with spear and sword, and there was great fighting. So the vikings
killed many of our people, and took our ship and all that was in it.
When we had been made captives the rovers took and shared us among
themselves as their bond slaves, and it befell that my mother and
I were parted. An Esthonian named Klerkon Flatface got me as his
portion, along with Thoralf and Thorgils. Klerkon deemed Thoralf
over old for a thrall, and could not see any work in him, so he
cruelly slew him before our eyes and cast his body into the sea.
But he had us two lads away with him, and he sold us here in the
marketplace in exchange for a white goat. Then, being companions
in our misfortune, Thorgils and I swore foster brotherhood, and
we took an oath in handshaking that when we grew strong enough we
would go out upon the sea and take vengeance upon the man who had
slain old faithful Thoralf."

Sigurd pointed outward to the ship that was afar off upon the dim
horizon.

"Jarl Klerkon, of whom you speak," said he, "is now upon yonder
ship."

"And well do I know it," returned Olaf. "Today when I stood upon
the vessel's gangplank I saw him standing on the lypting; and I
knew him by the token that his nose was flat against his face. I
had a mind to throw one of my knives at him, but there were over
many of his men around, who would soon have overpowered me had
I been so rash. And now," the boy added, as he glanced up at the
darkening sky, "it is time that I go back to the hills to gather
my master's sheep into the fold, for the night will be dark, and
wolves will be about. Too long already have I tarried here."

And before Sigurd could put out his hand to detain him Olaf had
bounded up the rocks, and was soon lost to sight.



CHAPTER II: SIGURD ERIKSON.


On the next morning, as the red sun rose above the mist capped hills
of Rathsdale, Olaf was at work among his master's swine, cleaning
out the styes and filling them with new straw. As he worked he
asked himself who the tall man could be who had spoken with him last
night upon the beach, and he began to regret that he had told so
much, believing now that the stranger might be an enemy--perhaps
even a spy of the wicked Queen Gunnhild, who had so often sought to
add to her own security by clearing her path of all who had power
to dispute her rights. Gunnhild was a very wily woman, and it might
well be that she had secretly discovered the abiding place of the
young son of King Triggvi, and that she had sent this man into
Esthonia to entrap him.

"Never again shall I be so free in telling my story to a stranger,"
said Olaf to himself. "Thorgils was wise to counsel me to keep
secret my kinship with Triggvi Olafson. When I am a man, and can
fight my own battles, then it will be time enough to lay claim to
my father's realm; and it may be that if I remain in thraldom till
that time no one will guess who I am. As a thrall, then, I must
work, even though that work be no better than the cleaning of my
master's stables and pig styes--Get back, you greedy grunter!"

This last command was addressed to a great bristly boar that brushed
past the boy and made its way to the bed of new straw. Olaf caught
the animal by its hind leg and struggled with it for a moment,
until the boar was thrown heavily on its side, squealing and kicking
furiously. Then three of the other pigs rushed forward, and one
knocked against the lad with such force that he fell on his knees.
This made him very angry, and he rose quickly to his feet and wrestled
with the pigs, driving them back with blows of his clenched hands.
But the boar was not easily turned. It stood stubbornly glaring
at him with its small bloodshot eyes, then suddenly charged at him
with a savage roar. Olaf leapt up, but too slowly, for his left
foot was caught by the boar's high back, and he rolled over in the
mire. And now his wrath got the better of him, and he leapt at the
boar with a wild cry, seizing its ears in his two hands. Then they
struggled together for many minutes, now rolling over, now breaking
asunder and again returning to the charge. But at last Olaf gained
the mastery, and his adversary lay panting and exhausted on the
coveted straw. Olaf sat upon the animal's side with his bare foot
upon its snout. His arm was bleeding, and there was a long scratch
upon his cheek. But he did not heed his wounds, for he had conquered.

As he sat thus a shadow moved across the yellow straw. He raised
his eyes, and beheld the faces of two men, who looked down upon
him from over the barrier of the pig sty. One of the men was his
master, Reas. The other he quickly recognized as the tall man who
had spoken with him last night. Sigurd Erikson was seated on a
beautiful white horse, and he was arrayed as for a long journey.

"This is the boy you mean," said Reas, as Olaf rose and went on
with his work--"an ill favoured loon you will think him. But had
I expected you I should have seen that he had been well washed and
decently clothed. If you would have him for hard labour, however,
he is at least strong, and I will warrant you that he is healthy,
and has no bodily faults. It may be that he is a little wild and
wilful, but you can tame him, and a sound flogging will do him no
harm, as I have ofttimes found. What price do you offer for him,
hersir?"

Olaf looked up in anxious surprise, wondering if in truth the stranger
had come to buy him, so that he might carry him off to the wicked
Queen Gunnhild.

"I will give you two silver marks for him," said Sigurd, "and that
is the value of a full grown man slave."

Reas demurred, looking at Olaf as if regretting that the lad was
not more presentable.

"No," he said at last. "You will not find such a thrall as he in
every day's march. If he were but a little cleaner you would see
that he is a very pretty boy. Look at his eyes--keen as a young
snake's! Why, no woman's eyes are more beautiful! Look at his skin,
there where his kirtle is torn. Is it not fair? And he is skilled
in many feats. My own son Rekoni is not more clever than he. He can
run for half a day without being wearied. He can climb the highest
pine tree in Rathsdale--as he did last seed time to harry a
bluejay's nest; and no seamew can swim more lightly on the water."

"As to his climbing," said Sigurd, with a curious look in his blue
eyes, "I do not doubt that he will some day climb much higher than
you list. But swimming is of little avail where there is no sea.
And if he runs so well there is all the more danger of his running
away. I think you will be well paid if I give you two silver marks.
But since you set so high a value on him for his beauty and his
skill, then I give you in addition this little ring of gold for
your good wife's wearing. What say you?"

"It is a bargain!" said Reas, eagerly grasping the ring that Sigurd
took from his belt pouch; "and you may take the lad at once."

Olaf drew back to the far corner of the pig sty. There was a frown
on his brow, and his blue eyes flashed in quick anger.

"I will not go!" he said firmly, and he made a rapid movement to
leap over the barrier; but he forgot the wound in his arm, and the
pain of it made him so awkward that Reas caught him by his wrists
and held him there until Sigurd, springing from his horse, came and
put an iron chain round the lad's neck. Then the two men forcibly
drew him to the gate of the pig sty. So, when Reas had opened the
gate, Sigurd, who was a very powerful man, caught Olaf in his arms
and carried him to the horse's side, and, holding the end of the
chain, mounted. Olaf struggled a little to free himself, but finding
the chain secure about his neck, resolved to await a better chance
of escape. Then Sigurd gave Reas the two silver marks in payment
of his purchase, and urged his horse to a quick walk, dragging Olaf
behind him.

Very soon Reas and his straggling farmstead were hidden from sight
behind a clump of tall pine trees. Then Sigurd halted at the side
of a little stream.

"You have done well," he said to Olaf, "in thus coming away with
seeming unwillingness. But do not suppose that I value you so
lightly as did your late master, who thinks, foolish man, that you
are no better than many another bond slave whom he might buy in
the marketplace. Had Reas exacted an hundred gold marks instead of
two paltry marks of silver, I should willingly have given him them."

"And why?" asked Olaf with a frown. "Is it that you think to take
me west to Norway, and cast me like a young goat among wolves? I
had thought when you so blandly spoke to me yesternight that you
were a man of honour. Haply Queen Gunnhild would reward you well if
you should deliver me into her clutches. But this you shall never
do!"

"Rash boy," said Sigurd as he stroked his horse's mane, "do you not
recognize a friend when you meet one? Or is friendship so strange
to you that you take all men to be your enemies?"

"Enmity comes so often in the guise of friendship," said Olaf,
"that it is well to be wary. I had been wiser last night if I had
refused to speak with you."

"The time will soon come," said Sigurd, "when you will not be sorry
that you so spoke. But I will warn you that it may go very ill with
you if you tell your story to all strangers as you told it to me."

Olaf was perplexed. He looked into the man's face and saw only
kindness there, and yet there was something very suspicious in the
stranger's eagerness to possess him.

"If you are indeed my friend," said the boy, "why do you keep this
chain about my neck? Why do you drag me after you like a dog?"

"Because I am not willing that you should escape me," answered
Sigurd. "But if you will shake my hand and tell me that you will
not run away, then I will take off your chain and you shall ride
in front of me on my horse. You are King Triggvi's son, and I know
that, once spoken, your word will be sacred."

Now, Olaf had never taken any man's hand since he swore foster
brotherhood with Thorgils Thoralf son. He looked upon handshaking
as a most solemn covenant, only to be made when great matters were
at stake. Also, he had never yet told or acted a lie, or been false
to anyone. He answered promptly:

"No, I will not take your hand. Neither will I give you my word
that I shall not escape from you very soon. You may keep the chain
about my neck. It is more easily broken than my promise."

Sigurd looked at the lad and smiled.

"I think," he said, "that I would admire you even more if you were a
little cleaner. Here is a stream of water. Get in and wash yourself."

"I cannot take off my clothes without removing the chain," said
Olaf, "and if the chain be removed I shall run away to where even
your horse cannot follow me. But if you will give me one boon I
will promise you that I will wash myself clean and then come back
to the chain."

"What is your boon?" asked Sigurd.

"It is," said Olaf, "that since I am now your lawful thrall, and
must go with you wheresoever you wish, you will go to Biorn the
merchant and buy from him my foster brother Thorgils."

Sigurd leapt from his horse and at once unfastened the chain from
Olaf's neck, and even helped him to draw off his kirtle and woollen
sark. And when Olaf stood before him naked, Sigurd drew back amazed
at the pure fairness of his skin, the firmness of his well knitted
muscles, and the perfect beauty of his form.

In the stream near which they had halted there was a deep, clear
pool of water, with a high cascade tumbling into it in creamy foam.
Olaf ran lightly over the mossy boulders and plunged into the pool,
as though he knew it well. Sigurd watched him rolling and splashing
there in childish delight. Sometimes the boy seemed lost in the
brown depths of the water, but soon his white body would be seen
gliding smoothly along under the surface, and then emerging amid
the spray of the waterfall, where the shafts of sunlight made
a rainbow arc. And at last Olaf came out and ran swiftly backward
and forward on the grassy level until he was dry. Then returning
to his new master he took up his woollen sark. But his kirtle was
gone.

Sigurd said: "I have thrown it away, for it is not well that a
king's son should wear a garment that is sullied by the marks of
slavery."

He took off from his own shoulders a riding cloak of scarlet cloth
and added, "Take this cloak and wear it. And when we reach the town
I will buy you more fitting clothes, with sandals for your feet,
and a cap to shield your head from the sun."

Olaf blushed, and took the cloak and put it over him, saying nothing.
Then he caught up an end of the chain and signed to his master to
fasten it about his neck. Signed fastened it and then remounted
his horse.

They had gone a little distance seaward down the dale when they
were met by three armed horsemen, who seemed to have been waiting
for them. Sigurd gave Olaf into their keeping, bidding them guard
him well, and himself rode on in advance. Soon from the top of a
hill they came in sight of the blue sea, and then the little town
with its wooden huts nestling at the foot of the cliffs.

When they entered the town, two of Sigurd's servants took Olaf with
them to the house of a certain merchant, where they gave him some
roasted eggs and wheaten bread, and there they kept him until after
noontide, never speaking to him, but only watching him while they
played countless games of chess and drank many horns of ale.

Now Olaf, as he sat on the floor, chained to the door post, set
to wondering where his new master intended taking him to, and he
could think of no likely destination but Norway. Why else should
this man have bought him but to deliver him to Gunnhild? So thereupon
he began to question how he could escape. And he determined in his
mind very quickly, that when they were on the sea he would free
himself from his chain and jump overboard and swim to land. But
then came the thought that if he did this he would be quite alone
in the world, and no one would ever believe him if he told them
that he was the son of Triggvi Olafson, and perhaps he would again
be taken into slavery. If Thorgils were with him they might do very
well together, because Thorgils was full of the world's wisdom,
and could by his wit earn food and shelter until they were both old
enough and skilled enough to join some viking ship and win renown
and power. But if Thorgils was to be left behind in Esthonia then
it would not be so easy. Nothing could be done without Thorgils.
So then Olaf thought it would be much wiser in him to try to escape
at once, before he should be taken on board ship.

The chain was tight about his neck and it was fastened behind, so
that he could not loosen it without arousing the men's suspicions
by the noise it would make. He looked at the other end of it, and
saw it was so fastened that he might easily undo it. Little by
little he crept nearer to the post as the men went on with their
game. Before he could do more, however, there was the sound of horse's
feet outside. The two men sprang up from their seats. One of them
went to the door and presently returned with a bundle of clothes,
which he threw down on the floor, bidding Olaf dress himself. Olaf
saw at once that the garments were of very fine woven cloth, and
he wondered much. Even his old master's son Rekoni had never worn
such rich attire as this, and it was passing strange that he, a
bond slave, should be told to clothe himself in such finery.

He was dressing himself--albeit with great trouble, for the
things were strange to him who had hitherto worn naught but a poor
slave's kirtle--when a shrill horn was sounded from without. Then
one of the men came and helped him to lace his sandals and to don
his cloak, and hurried him out into the courtyard. Here were three
horses waiting. The men pointed to one of them, a shaggy brown
pony, and told Olaf to mount.

"I cannot ride," said the boy.

"You will be able to ride long before you reach our journey's end,"
returned the man. "And, lest you should be afraid of falling off,
you will be tied with strong ropes to the horse's back."

"I had rather walk," objected Olaf.

"Slaves must obey their masters," said the man; and he took hold
of the boy to help him to mount. But Olaf drew quickly aside with
a flash of rebellion in his eyes.

Now at that moment a company of horsemen came in sight, led by Sigurd
Erikson, and followed by many mules that were laden with bags of
food and merchandise. All the men were well armed with swords and
spears, bows and arrows. The sight of so many horses at once showed
Olaf that the journey, whatever its destination, was to be made
by land. As they came nearer and halted, his eyes quickly searched
among the men for Thorgils Thoralfson. Yes, there indeed was his
foster brother, mounted on one of the pack mules, with the sunlight
falling on his white kirtle and downbent head! Then Olaf grew calm,
for his master had kept his promise, and it mattered little where
he was to be taken now that Thorgils was to be with him in his
bondage. Sometime--not today, perhaps,--they would have a chance
of speaking together and of contriving an escape.

Sigurd, seated on his beautiful white horse, looked like a king
surrounded by his bodyguard. He watched Olaf springing on the pony's
back, and saw the men securing the boy with ropes. One of the men
took the end of the chain, while the other held the pony's halter;
and thus, with a mounted guard on each side of him, the young slave
was led out through the gates.

Very soon the little town in which he had lived in bondage for
seven long years, and the sea that he loved so well, were left far
behind. Sigurd and his followers rode southward over the hills,
and then through long dreary dales, that were strewn with large
boulder stones that made travelling very difficult. There was only
a narrow horse track to guide them, and soon even this was lost in
the rank herbage, and the land became a wild desolate waste without
sign of human dwelling, but only the bare rugged hills, with here
and there a thread of water streaming down them into the lower
land. Olaf began to feel very weary, and the jolting of the pony
over the rough ground became painful to his untrained limbs. But
at last the hot sun sank in a blaze of gold, and the first day's
journey came to an end.

A halt was made within the shelter of a vast forest of pine trees,
at the side of a wide, deep stream. Here the horses and mules were
unburdened and allowed to wander, with dogs to watch them lest they
strayed too far. Some of the men then set to raising tents, others
gathered cones and dry twigs to build a fire, while two mounted
guard over their master's moneybags. When all was ready, food and
drink were served round to all alike.

At nightfall, Olaf and Thorgils, still chained, were put to sleep
on a bed of dry ferns. Near them was another slave, a young man
who seemed to be of a foreign land. They watched him silently until
he was asleep, then as they lay there with the stars shining down
upon them through the dark tree branches, they questioned one the
other concerning what had happened to them that day. Olaf asked
Thorgils if he had heard the name of their new master.

"No," answered Thorgils. "Nor can I guess why it is that he has
bought us. All that I know is that he is a Norseman, and that he
is very rich."

"I can only think," said Olaf, "that he intends some treachery by
us, and that he means to take us west over sea and deliver us into
the hands of Gunnhild's sons."

"There is little cause to fear such a thing," said Thorgils. "To him
we are but as any other slaves that he might buy in the marketplace,
and I think he has only chosen us because we are of his own country.
Had he discovered that you were your father's son he might indeed
design to take us to Norway. But that is not possible. There are
none but our two selves in all Esthonia who know that you are Olaf
Triggvison, and this man could not by any means have discovered
it."

Olaf was silent for many moments, then at last he said:

"Thorgils, I cannot deceive you. This man knows full well whose
son I am, and it was I who told him."

Thorgils drew in his breath, as if he had received a blow.

"You told him?" he cried. "Oh, rash that you are! Have I not
always bidden you keep this secret close in your heart? What need
was there to tell your story to the first inquiring stranger who
crossed your path? You are over ready with your tongue, and now,
alas! our misfortunes must only be greater than before."

"He spoke kindly to me," explained Olaf, "and I could not refuse
to answer him when he asked me how I came to be a bond slave. I
little thought that he was an enemy."

"You are unskilled in the knowledge of men, Ole," returned Thorgils.
"There is a look in his eyes that might soon have told you that
there is evil in his heart, and such smooth tongued men as he are
not to be trusted. But there is one good thing that your thoughtlessness
has done: it has brought us again under one master, so it will go
ill if, working together, we cannot contrive to run away, and join
some viking ship."

"That will not be easy if our new master should take us to an inland
place," said Olaf. "None of his men have the marks of the sea upon
them; they are landmen."

Thorgils glanced up into the sky and searched for the polar star.

"We are journeying southward," he said presently.

"And what country lies to the south?" asked Olaf.

Thorgils could not tell. But he remembered that on a time some
merchants had come to the coast from a great city in the south called
Mikligard--which was the Norseman's name for Constantinople, --
and he guessed that that might be their journey's end.

Then Olaf crept nearer to their sleeping companion and wakened him.

"Tell me," he asked, "who is this man, our master, and whither is
he taking us?"

"I cannot tell," answered the youth. "It is but three days since
that he bought me, and I can ill understand the tongue these men
speak, for I am not of this land. My home is far across the seas."

"In what realm?" asked Thorgils.

"In England."

"That must be far away indeed," said Olaf, "for never have I heard
of such a land."

"It is an island, out across the Western Sea," explained Thorgils;
"often have I heard it named. In that same land it was that King
Erik Bloodaxe lived and died. Many vikings out of Norway have
crossed the seas for the sake of the wealth they can win from the
Angles. And if I were a viking it is to England I would steer my
course."

"Gladly would I go with you," said the English youth; "ay, even
now, if we could but escape. But it seems that we are journeying
away from the seacoast, and there is little hope that we can win
our way on board a ship."

"There is hope enough if we do not delay our escape," returned
Thorgils, looking out to where the campfires burned. He was silent
for many minutes, then, laying his hand on the stranger's arm, he
asked:

"What name have you?"

"Egbert," the lad replied.

"And how came it," inquired Thorgils, "that you were brought into
Esthonia?"

Egbert then told his story. He was born, he said, in Northumberland.
His father, a wealthy armourer and silversmith, had been slain by
one of the Northmen who had made a great settlement in that part of
the country, and his mother, whose name was Edith, had then wedded
the man who had made her a widow. The man was named Grim, and he
was a warrior in the service of Erik Bloodaxe, the ruler in those
parts. On the death of King Erik, Grim and many of the Norsemen
went back to Norway in the train of Queen Gunnhild and Erik's sons,
and with him he took his wife and young Egbert. Edith did not live
to reach Norway, and Grim, unwilling to be burdened with her son,
had sold Egbert into slavery. For ten years the boy had suffered
in bondage under different masters, the last of whom--Klerkon
Flatface--had brought him into Esthonia.

"My one wish during all these years," said Egbert, has been
to return to England, where the people are Christian, and do not
worship your heathen gods. Many times I have tried to escape, but
always without success; for I have had no companions, and it is
not easy for one so young as I am to make his way alone through
foreign lands."

"What is your age?" Olaf inquired.

"Fifteen summers," answered Egbert.

Thorgils stood up and leaned his hand against the trunk of a tree,
looking down at his two companions.

"I think," said he, "that it would be a very good thing if we
three should run away from this new master of ours--now, while
the darkness lasts,--and, keeping in company, try to get back
to the coast. There we might take possession of a small sailboat,
and so make our way over sea to the land of the Angles. What say
you, Ole?"

Olaf was silent for a while. At last he said:

"It were much wiser in us to wait until we are old enough to fight
our way in the world."

"And you will not try to escape?" asked Thorgils.

"No," answered Olaf firmly. "We have a good master. Why should we
leave him?"

"It is because he has given you that fine cloak that you think him
good," returned Thorgils tauntingly; "but, believe me, he has his
private reasons for so bribing you. I can well guess what he means
to do with you, and I tell you that you will surely rue it if you
do not escape while we may; for, if men bear their true nature in
their faces, then this man who has bought us has an evil heart."

"And what would it avail if we were to escape?" asked Olaf. "Boys
as we are, we should be of little use in the world, I think."

"You are afraid!" cried Thorgils.

"Yes," echoed Egbert, "you are afraid." Then turning to Thorgils,
he added: "But why should we urge the lad against his will? He is
but a child, and would only be a burden to us. Let us leave him
and go our ways without him."

"You are not of our folk, Egbert," returned Thorgils, flinging
himself down upon the dry leaves, "and you do not know what the vow
of foster brotherhood means. You ask me to do that which I would
sooner die than do. Ole and I will never part until death parts
us. And if either should be slain, then the other will avenge his
death. If Ole wills to remain in slavery until he is old and gray,
then I will always be his companion in bondage. But to escape
without him, that will I never do!"

Nothing more was said. The three boys, weary after their long
journey, curled themselves up to sleep.

So soundly did young Olaf sleep, that at midnight, when a man's
hands unbound the chain about his neck he was not awakened. Very
cautiously the man took him up in his strong arms, and carried him
away among the dark shadows of the trees to a part of the forest
far removed from the campfires. And at last he laid the lad down
on a bed of dry reeds and moss at the side of the stream, where
the bright moon, shining through an open glade, shed its light upon
his fair round face and his short gold hair. There the man stood
over him, watching him as he dreamed his childish dreams. Then he
knelt down and gently drew aside the lad's cloak and opened the
front of his kirtle, so that the moonlight fell upon the white skin
of his throat and breast.

Suddenly Olaf awoke and saw the dark figure bending over him.

"Thorgils, Thorgils!" he cried in alarm.

"Be silent!" commanded Sigurd Erikson, gripping the boy's arm. "No
harm will come to you."

Olaf struggled to his feet and was about to take to flight, but
his master's firm grip held him.

"Silly child!" muttered Sigurd. "Why do you fear me? Have I not
already told you that I am your friend?"

"I do not trust your friendship," answered Olaf angrily, remembering
Thorgil's warning. "And now I believe that you have brought me here
only that you may secretly put me to death."

"I have brought you here for your own good, my child," said Sigurd
softly; "and I give you my solemn word that no man, whosoever he
be, shall do you any injury while I live to be your protector. Be
silent, and listen to me."

Olaf grew calmer.

"Yester eve," said Sigurd, "when you told me that you were the son
of King Triggvi Olafson, I could not easily believe your tale. But
when you spoke your mother's name and told me that she was from
Ofrestead, in the Uplands of Norway, then I knew very well that you
were telling me the truth. I looked into your eyes and I saw that
they were the eyes of Queen Astrid--the fairest woman in all the
Northland. In your very words I thought I could hear the music of
Queen Astrid's voice --"

"Can it be that my mother is known to you?" cried Olaf eagerly.
"Can it be that you can take me to where she lives?"

"Well do I know her," answered Sigurd. "But, alas! it is many
summers since I saw her last, nor had I heard any tidings of her
for a long, long while, until you told me that she had taken flight
from Norway. Tell me now, what is the name of him whose succour
she wished to seek in Gardarike?"

"Her brother's name," said Olaf, "is Sigurd Erikson."

"I am that same brother," smiled Sigurd, taking the boy by the
hand; "and it is because I am your uncle that I now take you with
me into Holmgard." He drew Olaf nearer to him and put his arm about
his neck. "And you shall live with me as my own dear foster son,"
he added, "and I will take care of you and teach you all that a
king's son should know, so that in the time to come you may be well
fitted to claim your dead father's realm. But it is not without
great risk that I do this thing, for I well know that there are
many men in Norway who would gladly hear of your death. Now, if
Gunnhild's sons should learn that you are living in Holmgard they
would offer a rich reward to the man who should compass your end.
You will be wise, therefore, if you breathe no word of your kinship
with Triggvi Olafson. Also, you must betray to no man, not even to
your foster brother Thorgils, that I am your uncle, or that I know
your name and kin; for it is a law held sacred in Gardarike that
no one of royal birth shall abide in the land without the sanction
of King Valdemar. If it be known that I am wilfully breaking that
law, then both you and I will fall into the sorest trouble."

Amazed at hearing all this, and at learning that the man he had
taken for a secret enemy was none other than his own uncle, Olaf
was speechless. He silently put his hand into Sigurd's great palm,
and let himself be led back to the place where Thorgils and Egbert
still lay sound asleep.



CHAPTER III: GERDA' S PROPHECY.


On the morrow, when Olaf awoke, he told nothing of this that he had
heard concerning his kinship with Sigurd Erikson, and if Thorgils
saw that he was very moody and quiet, he no doubt thought that
the lad was but sorrowing at being taken away from the sea that he
loved so much. And yet Olaf seemed strangely unwilling to favour
any plan of escape. Both Thorgils and Egbert were for ever speaking
of flight, but Olaf always had some wise reason to offer for yet
further delay, and would only shake his head and say that their
plans were ill formed. On the second evening of the journey into
the south, a halt was made upon the shores of a great inland lake.
Thorgils declared that it was a part of the sea, and he urged his
two companions to steal away with him under the cover of night so
that they might find some fisher's boat and make off with it. But
Olaf quickly pointed out that there were no boats to be seen, and
that, as the horses and dogs were drinking of the water, it could
not be salt like the waters of the great sea. Every day during the
long and weary journey Thorgils brought up some new plan. But Olaf
was obstinate. So at last the two elder boys, seeing that he was
bent upon remaining in bondage, yielded to his stronger will, and
agreed to wait in patience and to go with him wheresoever their
master had a mind to take them.

The country into which they were taken was in old times called
Gardarike. It lay to the southeast of Esthonia, and it was a part
of what is now known as the Russian Empire. Many Norsemen lived
in that land, and King Valdemar was himself the son of the great
Swedish viking, Rurik, who had made conquests and settlements in
the countries east of the Baltic Sea. Valdemar held his court at
Holmgard--the modern Novgorod. He was a very wise and powerful
ruler, and his subjects were prosperous and peaceable, having many
useful arts, and carrying on a commerce with the great city of
Mikligard. The people were still heathen, worshipping Odin and Thor
and the minor gods of the Scandinavians; for the faith of Christendom
was as yet but vaguely known to them and little understood.

Sigurd Erikson, who was Valdemar's high steward, lived in the king's
palace in great dignity and had many servants. So when he returned
with all the treasure that he had gathered as tribute he took Olaf
Triggvison into his service. But Thorgils and Egbert were still
held as bond slaves and put to hard labour in the king's stables.

The steward was very good to Olaf, and soon grew to love him as
his own son, guarding him from all harm, speaking with him whenever
chance brought them together, yet never betraying by word or act
that the boy was other than a mere thrall, whom he had bought with
other chattels during his journey through the king's dominions.
Neither did Olaf whisper, even to his foster brother, any word
of his close kinship with their new master. Thorgils, who had not
forgotten the name of Queen Astrid's brother, might indeed have
discovered Olaf's secret. But it so chanced that the king's steward
was spoken of only by his title as the Hersir Sigurd, and not as
the son of Erik of Ofrestead.

For many months Olaf fulfilled his little duties very meekly, and
no one paid great heed to him, for he still bore the traces of his
rough work. Sigurd was well satisfied that his secret was safe, and
that Valdemar would never discover that his steward was breaking
the law. But soon the lad's fair hair grew long and bright, his
hands lost their roughness, and his growing beauty of face and
limb attracted many eyes. Then Sigurd began to fear, for he knew
the penalty he would be forced to pay if it should be discovered
that he had wittingly brought a king born youth into the land.

This danger grew greater when it chanced that the Queen Allogia
took notice of young Olaf, for the queen was in some sort a spae
woman; she was skilled in foretelling the future, and she quickly
perceived that the boy's beauty had come to him from some noble
ancestor. It seemed that she was bent upon knowing his history,
for she besought many persons about the court to tell her whence
he had come, and to discover for her the names of his parents. But
none could tell.

Now, Allogia was still but two and twenty years of age, and very
fair, and the king did not like that she should be seen holding
speech with his handsome steward, for fear that Sigurd should win
her heart. But one day in the early winter time the queen came upon
Sigurd in the great hall, where he was alone with Olaf, teaching
the boy to read the runes carved in the black oak behind the king's
high seat.

Olaf stood back as she entered, but his eyes rested fearlessly upon
her. She wore a blue woven mantle ornamented with lace, and under
it a scarlet kirtle with a silver belt. There was a band of gold
round her head, and her fine brown hair reached down to her waist
on both sides. She approached the steward, and said as he turned
to withdraw from the hall:

"I pray you, go on with your lesson, hersir."

"Your pardon, lady," said Sigurd, "I was but teaching the lad the
rune of King Rurik, and it is of no account that I should continue."

"Not often have I heard of a mere slave boy learning runes,"
returned Allogia; "such knowledge is only meant for those who are
of high estate." She paused and looked round at Olaf, who stood
apart with his hand caressing the head of a great dog that had risen
from before the fire. "And yet," added the queen thoughtfully, "I
would say that this boy Ole, as you call him, has no serf's blood
in him. His fairness is that of a kingly race. What is his parentage,
Hersir Sigurd? You who have shown him so much favour, who have
dressed him in such fine clothes, and who even go so far as to teach
him the reading of runes, surely know him to be of noble birth.
Who is he, I say?"

This question, coming so directly and from the queen herself, whom
he dared not disobey, brought the guilty blood to Sigurd's brow.
But Allogia did not observe his confusion. Her large dark eyes were
gazing full upon Olaf, as though in admiration of the boy's silky
gold hair and firm, well knit figure.

"I bought the lad in North Esthonia," Sigurd answered after a
moment's pause. "I bought him from a bonder in Rathsdale, and the
price I paid for him was two silver marks. It may be that he is some
viking's son, I cannot tell. He is quick witted and very clever at
all games, and that is why it pleases me to teach him many things."

There was a look of doubt in Allogia's eyes, as though she knew
that the steward was telling her but a half truth. He saw her doubt
and made a sign to Olaf to draw nearer. The boy obeyed, and stood
before the queen with bowed head.

"Of what parentage are you, boy?" demanded Sigurd. "Who is your
mother, and what is her condition of life?"

Olaf answered promptly, as he looked calmly into his master's face:

"My mother is a poor bondswoman, hersir," he said. "The vikings
brought her into Esthonia from west over sea. I have not had tidings
of her since I was a little child."

The queen smiled at him pityingly.

"And what of your father?" she asked.

Olaf shook his head, and looked vacantly at the queen's beautiful
hands with their many gold rings.

"I never knew my father, lady," he replied, "for he was dead before
I came into the world."

"But do you not know his name?" pursued Allogia. Now Olaf feared
to tell a deliberate lie, and yet, for his uncle's sake, he dared
not answer with the truth. He stammered for an instant, and then,
feeling the dog's head against his hand, he caught the animal's ear
between his fingers and gave it a hard, firm pinch. The dog howled
with the sudden pain and sprang forward angrily. And the queen,
startled and alarmed, moved aside and presently walked majestically
from the hall.

Not again for many weeks did Allogia seek an answer to her question.
Sigurd, still fearing that his secret might be revealed, kept the
boy away from the court so that he might not be seen. But for all
his care the danger was for ever recurring.

King Valdemar had a mother named Gerda, who was so old and infirm
that she always lay abed. She was wonderfully skilled in spaedom,
and it was always the custom at yuletide, when the guests assembled
in the king's hall, that his mother was borne in thither and
placed in the high seat. There she prophesied touching any danger
overhanging the country, or similar thing, according to the questions
put to her.

Now it happened in the first winter of Olaf's being in Holmgard,
that at the yule feast, when Gerda had been borne in after this
fashion, Valdemar asked her whether any foreign prince or warrior
would enter his dominions or turn his arms against his kingdom
during the following year.

The old mother ran her bent fingers through the thin locks of her
white hair, and gazing with dim eyes into the vast hall, thus spoke
her prophecy:

"No token of any disastrous war do I discern," she said, "nor any
other misfortune. But one wondrous event I see. In the land of
Norway there has lately been born a child who will be bred up here,
in Holmgard, until he grows to be a famous prince; one so highly
gifted that there has never before been seen his equal. He will
do no harm to this kingdom; but he will in every way increase thy
fame. He will return to his native land while yet he is in the flower
of his age, and he will reign with great glory in this northern
part of the world. But not for long, not for long. Now, carry me
away."

While these words were being spoken, Queen Allogia's eyes rested
upon Olaf Triggvison, who was acting as cup bearer to his uncle
Sigurd. She saw the drinking horn tremble in his hand, so that the
wine it held dripped over the silver rim, and fell upon the front
of his white kirtle; and she divined that it was to him that the
prophecy referred. But no sign of this suspicion did she betray,
either at that time or in the after days. Yet none the less she
watched him always, with her mind fixed upon the thought of his
nobility, and the glory that had been promised him. In all that he
did she was well pleased, for already she had found that he excelled
all others of his age, not only in personal beauty but in skilful
handling of all warlike weapons, in the training of dogs and horses,
in wrestling and riding, in racing on snowshoes, and in all other
exercises. Often she would have spoken with him, but, saving at
the time of a great feast, he was never to be seen in the hall.

Throughout the long, cold winter months, Olaf saw nothing of his
foster brother or of Egbert the Briton, for they had both been
taken across the river to labour on one of the king's farmsteads.
There they remained until the early summer, when they brought over
their flocks and herds for the sheep meeting. At that time there
was held a great fair in Holmgard, with sports and games and manly
contests. Many parties of men came into the town from distant parts
of the kingdom.

On the second morning of the fair, Sigurd Erikson entered the
room in which Olaf slept. The boy was dressing himself in his fine
clothes, and girding on his leather belt with its small war axe,
which Sigurd had had made for his young kinsman.

"My boy," said Sigurd, "there is little need for you to dress
yourself in this holiday attire, for it is my will that you do not
attend the games. You must not show yourself amid the crowd."

Now, Olaf had engaged to take part in a great wrestling bout with
three young champions from Livonia. Also, he was to have run in a
footrace, for which the prize was a silver hilted sword, awarded
by the queen. So at hearing his uncle thus forbid him to appear,
he became very indignant.

"It is too late for you to try to keep me within doors," he protested.
"I have given my word to the wrestlers, and I cannot now withdraw.
Do you wish me to be jeered at as a coward? Why do you deny me the
honour of taking all the prizes that I may so easily win?"

"It is for your own happiness that I forbid you to show yourself
before strangers," returned Sigurd. "But, more than all, I wish
you to keep in hiding for this great reason. There has come into
Holmgard a man whom I met many months ago. I engaged with him to
pit my best horse against his in the horse ring, and the prize was
to be --"

"What was the prize?" asked Olaf, seeing that his uncle had paused.

"The prize was to be yourself, my son," said Sigurd gravely. "The
man coveted you, and would have bought you from your old master
Reas."

"And why did you agree to this, knowing that I am your own kinsman
and your sister's son?" asked Olaf.

"I did not then know that you were of my kin," answered Sigurd.
"But having given my word, I cannot go back from it. I have seen
this man's horse, and I judge it to be a finer animal than mine.
Therefore do I fear that I must lose you. But if you will keep
within the house, I will tell the man that you are dead, and will
offer him the young Englander Egbert in your stead."

"Would you then tell the man a falsehood?" cried Olaf.

"Gladly, if by doing so I still keep you with me, for I would not
lose you for all the world."

Olaf, obedient to his uncle's word, began to unbuckle his belt. But
his face was very gloomy, and it was easy to see that it was only
out of his love for his uncle that he would by any means agree to
forego his pleasures. Olaf was already very proud of his own skill.
Never yet had he been beaten in any contest, and he had hoped to
add to his glory by overcoming all who might come against him on
this great day. Moreover, it was a sorry sacrifice for him to make
if he was not to be allowed to witness the games.

As Sigurd turned to leave him, the boy suddenly caught his arm.

"I will not promise!" he cried. "I cannot give you my word. I have
set my heart upon the wrestling, and in spite of your forbiddance
I shall go. Tell me what manner of man this is that you speak of,
and I will avoid him. Even though he overcome you in the horse
fight he shall not take me from you."

"He is a great viking," answered Sigurd. "Men name him Klerkon
Flatface. It is the same who sold you into bondage."

A cloud came upon Olaf's brow, and he sat down upon the side of
the trestle bed.

"Klerkon Flatface?" he repeated slowly. Then raising his eyes
he looked into his uncle's face and added: "Do not fear, hersir.
Klerkon shall not take me from you."

Now, very soon after Sigurd had gone out to attend upon the king,
Olaf quitted the house and went by secret ways to the stables,
where he found his foster brother at work combing out the mane of
Sigurd's fighting steed. A very tall and powerful animal it was,
with a glossy brown coat and a long tail that reached nearly to
the ground. It was well trained, and many a well won fight had it
fought. Sleipner was its name, and it was so called after the eight
footed horse of Odin.

Olaf went to Thorgils' side and greeted him with friendly words.
Then, when they had spoken for a while together, Olaf bent his head
close to Thorgils' ear, and said he:

"I have news, brother."

"Ill news or good?" asked Thorgils.

"Judge for yourself," answered Olaf. "It is that our old enemy
Klerkon the Viking has come into Holmgard, with many men and a
mighty horse that is to be pitted against Sleipner."

Thorgils drew back with a sudden start.

"Then has our good time come," he cried. "Our vow of vengeance
must be fulfilled. No longer are we little boys, weak of arm and
failing in courage. Never again shall Klerkon sail the seas."

"And who will hinder him?" asked Olaf, looking the while into the
other's brightened eyes.

"He shall be hindered by me," returned Thorgils. "With me alone
must the vengeance rest, for it is not well that you, who stand
so high in honour with the king and his court, should sully your
white hands with blood. It was my father whom Klerkon slew that
day upon the ship, and it is my part to avenge him."

Then Olaf shook his head.

"Not so shall it be," said he. "Thoralf was my own good foster
father, and I am not afraid to face the man who sent him so cruelly
to his death. I and not you shall bring the murderer to his bane."

"Rash that you always are!" cried Thorgils. "Will you never learn
to be cautious? Keep your peace. If I should fail, then will it
be your turn to avenge my death as our vow of foster brotherhood
demands. Now bring me a good weapon, for I have none but an oak
cudgel."

"You shall not want for a good weapon," said Olaf, and he drew a
small sword from under his blue cloak and handed it to Thorgils.
"Here is my new handsax. Take it, and use it to good purpose. But
in the matter of Klerkon, it may be that I shall be before you.
Odin be with you!"



CHAPTER IV: THE SLAYING OF KLERKON.


It was yet early in the forenoon when the games began. They were
held on the great plain beyond the gate, where fences were raised
as a girdle round the course. Upon the sunny side was the king's
tent, where Valdemar and Allogia sat, attended by many guests and
courtiers, among whom was Sigurd Erikson.

For a long while Sigurd, who sat near to the queen, was at his
ease in the belief that young Olaf was keeping within doors, and
he paid little heed to those who were within the ring. First there
were jumping matches. Olaf did not join in these, for he was not
yet tall enough to compete with full grown men, and there were
no youths of his own height who were skilled enough to match him.
Neither, for a like reason, did he take part in the sword feats.
But at last it came to a trial of skill with the longbow. The bowmen
were at the far end of the course, and their faces could not well
be seen from the tent, even had Sigurd searched among them for the
face of his wilful nephew. There was one, however, who saw better
than he, and this was Queen Allogia.

She waited until it came to the turn of those who were younger than
eighteen years, and then she watched with keen eyes. Among them she
soon discerned the youth whom she sought; nor did she lose sight
of him until his well aimed arrow shot full into the mark, and he
was proclaimed the victor. Then, when Olaf came before the tent
to make his obeisance, Sigurd saw him, and was very wroth, for he
knew that Klerkon the Viking was among the king's guests.

Now, when Olaf was thus near, it seemed to Klerkon that the lad
was not wholly a stranger to him. Indeed, had it not been for the
long gold hair and the disguise of better clothing, he might have
known him to be the same whom he had seen in the last summer playing
at the knife feat on the gangplank of the viking ship. But Klerkon
only admired the lad's skill with the longbow, and thought what a
goodly warrior he would make. So having this in his mind, he watched
Olaf closely when again the boy ran past in the footrace, leading
his competitors by many yards.

And now, being first in the race, Olaf came once more before the
tent, and the queen gave him his well won prize.

As he took the silver hilted sword from Allogia's hand, one of the
vikings went to Klerkon's side, and said he:

"Master, this youth is the same who appeared in the last summer as
a bond slave at the time when the Hersir Sigurd came on board of
us. Was it not this same lad who was to be the prize in our horse
fight?"

Then Klerkon fixed his eyes more keenly on the lad, and thought
of him as he might be with his fair hair cropped short, and with
a slave's white kirtle in place of the fine clothes he now wore.

"It is the same!" he answered. "And now I mind that someone told
me it was he whom we captured among others many summers ago off
Alland isle. It was we who brought him into Esthonia. Much would
I give to have him with us on our longship. And by the hammer of
Thor, I swear that if I win him not over the horse fight, then I
will take him by force!"

So then Klerkon made his way to the side of Sigurd Erikson, and
told him that he had recognized the boy. At which Sigurd grew very
pale, and blamed himself in that he had not kept Olaf within doors
by main force.

Now, at high noon when the king and queen departed from the tent,
Sigurd made his way round to the entrance of the lists, and there
searched for Olaf and found him. He spoke to the lad very gravely,
and, telling him of the viking's recognition, cautioned him against
appearing again within the circle of the course. Olaf, seeing now
that it was a serious matter, agreed to abandon the wrestling, and
gave his word that he would thereafter be more cautious of showing
himself.

"Much do I fear," said Sigurd, "that the mischief is already done.
Your future welfare, your happiness, your claiming of your father's
kingdom--all depends upon the result of this horse fight. If
Klerkon the Viking's horse should overcome Sleipner there is no
help for us. You must go with the victor."

Then Olaf smiled almost mockingly.

"Be not afraid, my kinsman," said he. "Should Klerkon come to
claim me as his prize he shall not find me. But he will never need
to claim me. I have seen this great stallion that he has so much
boasted of, and I know full well that it is no match for Sleipner
in a fair fight."

"We shall see very soon," returned Sigurd; "meanwhile, if you
intend to witness the combat, I beg you to take your stand as far
as possible away from the vikings. And when the fight is over --
whatever be the result--make your way over the river and keep
well hidden in old Grim Ormson's hut. There you will be safe from
all discovery until after the vikings have departed."

Now Olaf had no notion of hiding himself thus. He was not personally
afraid of Klerkon, neither did he believe that the viking would
go to much trouble to secure his prize even if his horse should be
successful. Olaf had heard that that horse had been brought from
England, and he did not believe that anything good could come from
a country so far away. His uncle's horse, on the other hand, was
celebrated all through Gardarike, and it had never been beaten
either in the race or in the fight. Why, then, should there be any
fear for the result of the coming contest?

But Sigurd Erikson was wiser, and knew better that his steed
was at last to meet its equal. Never before had he seen an animal
so strong and fierce as the stallion that Klerkon the Viking had
matched against Sleipner.

Many horses were led forth into the circle, and they were taken in
pairs to the middle, where they fought one against the other. Each
horse was followed by its owner or the trainer, who supported and
urged it on, inciting it with his stick. The crowd of onlookers was
very large, for among the Northmen no amusement was more popular
than the horse fight, unless it were the combat between men. But
at first there was not much excitement, because many of the horses
would not fight, and others were too easily beaten. At last Sleipner
and the English horse were led forth into the centre. When they
were let loose they came together fiercely, and there followed
a splendid fight, both severe and long. Little need was there for
the men to urge them or to use the sticks. The two horses rose
high on their hind legs, biting at each other savagely until their
manes and necks and shoulders were torn and bloody. Often the animals
were parted, but only to renew the fight with greater fierceness.
The combat went on until eleven rounds had passed. Then Klerkon's
stallion took hold of the jawbone of Sleipner, and held on until
it seemed that he would never yield his hold. Two of the men then
rushed forward, each to his own horse, and beat and pushed them
asunder, when Sleipner fell down from exhaustion and hard fighting.
At which the vikings set up a loud cheer.

King Valdemar was the umpire, and he said now that the fight must
cease, for that Klerkon's horse had proved himself the victor in
eight rounds, and that it could easily be seen that the steward's
horse was no longer fit. Then the king asked Sigurd what prize he
had staked, and Sigurd answered:

"The prize was staked many months ago when I met Klerkon over in
Esthonia, and it was arranged that if the viking's horse should
overcome mine he was to take the young thrall Ole."

"Let the boy be given up to him, then," said the king; "for he has
won him very fairly."

"I will take the boy tonight," said Klerkon, who stood near, "for
my business in Holmgard is now over, and at sunrise I go back to
the coast."

Now Sigurd believed that Olaf had surely taken his advice, and gone
at once across the river to hide himself in Grim Ormson's hut, so
he was not in any way anxious.

"Take the lad wheresoever you can find him," said he to the viking.
"And if you cannot find him before the sunrise, then I will pay
you his just value in gold."

"Though you offered me all the gold you are worth," returned
Klerkon, "I would not take it in place of the boy. No thrall born
lad is he, but of noble descent, and I intend to make a viking of
him and take him with me west over sea to England. It is not well
that a youth so clever as he should waste his years in an inland
town. He was meant by his nature for the sea, and I think that he
will some day prove to be a very great warrior."

At this Sigurd Erikson grew sick at heart, for he knew that the
viking was a man of very strong will, and that no half measures
would serve to turn him from his purpose. Also, he felt that it was
now useless to attempt any deception concerning Olaf. The vikings
had recognized the boy, and none other could be passed off in his
stead.

With a gloomy cloud on his brow, Sigurd left the tent and made
his way back to the king's hall in search of his nephew. Olaf was
not there. The hours went by, and still there was no sign of him.
Neither did Klerkon come to make claim to his prize.

It was in the evening time. Sigurd sat alone in his room at the back
of the great hall. He was thinking that Olaf had become strangely
restless and unruly of late. Many times the lad had disappointed
him and caused him trouble, but never so much as today, when his
wilfulness threatened to bring about very serious consequences.
Had Olaf taken the advice that had been given him in the morning,
the coming of Klerkon might have been a matter of small moment;
but the thoughtless boy had boldly shown himself before the tent,
and had never striven to hide himself from the quick eyes of the
shipmen. He had been recognized--as how would one so distinguished
from all other youths fail to be?--and now Klerkon would not rest
until he had safely secured his coveted prize.

Very different now was Olaf from what he had seemed on that day
when he stood near the viking ship in the guise of a poor slave.
In the year that had passed Sigurd had grown to love the lad with
the love of a father, had taught him many useful arts and handicrafts,
had given him fine clothes to wear, and had so improved his bodily
condition and moulded his mind that no king's son could ever hope
to excel him either in physical beauty or in skill of arms, in manly
prowess or moral goodness. Never once had Olaf done anything that
was mean or unworthy; never once had he told an untruth or gone
back from his promise. At any time when Sigurd had told him to do
what was not to his liking the boy had simply shaken his golden
curls and said, "I will not promise"; but always when he had given
his word he held to it firmly and faithfully. He could be trusted
in all things. But for all this he had lately become most wilful,
and the trouble he was now causing made his uncle very anxious.

Sigurd knew full well that Olaf loved him, and that all the possible
glory of being a viking would not lead him away from Holmgard of
his own free will. But in the present case he might not be able to
help himself, despite his having so positively said that Klerkon
should never carry him off alive. So in his heart Sigurd feared that
Olaf would take some mischievous and unwise measure of his own to
evade the vikings. It might be, indeed, that he had already gone
across the river to the security of Grim Ormson's hut; but it was
greatly to be feared that he had fallen into the hands of Klerkon
Flatface.

Suddenly, as Sigurd sat there in moody thought, the door of the
room was flung open, and Olaf rushed in. He was strangely agitated.
His hair was rough and his clothing was torn; his large blue eyes
flashed in anger, and his breathing was heavy and uneven.

Sigurd sprang up from his seat. He saw that something ill had
happened.

"Why are you here?" he cried. "Why are you not in hiding? Have I
not warned you enough that you are running into danger by letting
yourself be seen? Klerkon has won you from me, and he may be here
at any moment to claim you and carry you away!"

Olaf did not reply for a long time. He only bent down and took
a handful of rushes up from the floor, and began to quietly clean
the blade of his axe that he held under his arm.

"Speak!" cried Sigurd, driven to anger by the boy's silence.

Then at last Olaf said in a steady, boyish voice:

"Klerkon will never claim me from you, my kinsman; for he is dead."

"Dead?" echoed Sigurd in alarm.

"Yes," answered Olaf, "I met him in the gate. He tried to take me.
I raised my axe and buried it in his head. Well have you taught me
the use of my axe, Hersir Sigurd."

As he spoke there came a loud hum of angry voices from without.
They were the voices of the vikings calling aloud for the blood of
him who had slain their chief.

Without a word Sigurd Erikson crossed the room, and drew the heavy
bar athwart the door. Then he turned upon Olaf.

"Well do I discern," said he, "that you are of King Harald's
race. It was ever so with your forefathers; thoughtless, fearless,
ruthless! And so all my teaching of you has gone for nothing! Oh,
foolish boy! To think that you, who might have lived to be the king
of all Norway, have ended in being no more than a common murderer!"

"Murderer?" repeated Olaf. "Not so. It is but justice that I have
done. Klerkon was the slayer of my dear foster father. He slew him
cruelly and in cold blood, and for no other reason than that poor
Thoralf was old and infirm. I have done no murder. I have but taken
just and lawful vengeance."

"Just and lawful it may be in our own birthland, Olaf," returned
Sigurd gravely; "but in this kingdom wherein we now live the peace
is held holy, and it is ordained by law that he who kills another
man in anger shall himself lose his life. I cannot save you. You
have broken the peace; you have taken the life of one of the king's
own guests, and you have insulted the king's hospitality. I fear
that you must die."

He broke off, listening to the furious cries of the crowd outside.
"Hark!" he went on. "Those wild sea wolves are calling for blood
vengeance. Come! come with me quickly. There is but one hope left,
and in that hope lies my own despair and my own undoing."

So, while yet the people were clamouring for the young peace breaker's
life, Sigurd took Olaf through the back part of the house and by
many secret passages into the queen's garth. Here, in a large hall
that was most splendidly adorned with carved wood and hung with
tapestry, sat Queen Allogia with two of her handmaids working with
their needles upon a beautiful robe of embroidered silk.

Sigurd passed the armed sentinel at the door and strode into the
apartment, followed closely by the boy. The queen looked up in
surprise at the unexpected visitors.

"I crave your help, O queen," cried the steward excitedly.

The queen stood up in alarm. She had heard the turmoil of voices
from without.

"What means all this shouting?" she inquired.

Then Sigurd told her how Olaf had killed the viking, and implored
her to help the boy out of his trouble.

"Alas!" said she, when she had heard the tale. "Little power have
I to meddle in such affairs. The penalty of murder is death, and
I cannot hinder the law." She looked at Olaf as she spoke, and saw
the pleading in his eyes. "And yet," she added with quick pity,
"such a handsome boy must not be slain. I will save him if I can."

She then bade Sigurd call in her bodyguard fully armed to protect
the lad, while she went out into the king's chamber and pleaded
with Valdemar to prevent the shedding of blood.

Now, by this time, the enraged vikings and many men of the town
had gained entrance to the outer court, and they rushed forward to
claim the life of the offender according to their custom and laws.
Long they waited, hammering noisily at the oaken doors of the hall
wherein Olaf was now known to have taken refuge. But at last the
door was flung open, and King Valdemar appeared on the threshold,
guarded by many armed men. The crowd drew back, leaving only the
chief of the vikings to speak for them and ask for justice. He told
the king how Klerkon, standing within the gate, had been attacked
by young Ole of the golden hair, and how without word or warning
the boy had suddenly raised his axe and driven it into Klerkon's
head, so that the blade stood right down into the brain of him.

The king then declared that he could not believe a boy so young
as Ole could have either the skill or the boldness to attack so
powerful a man as Klerkon Flatface. But the viking turned and called
upon some of his shipmates to bring forward the dead body of their
chief, which they laid down before the king. Valdemar looked upon
it and examined the death wound. The skull was cloven with one
clean blow from the crown right down to the red bearded chin.

"A wondrous strong blow!" murmured Valdemar. "But I see that it was
struck from the front. How came it that Klerkon could not defend
himself?"

"Little time had he for that," answered the viking, "for the lad
fell upon him with the quickness of an eagle's swoop, and although
my master was well armed, yet he could not raise his sword ere he
fell dead at our feet, and then Ole turned and fled with such speed
that none could follow him."

"Such an act as this," said the king, "cannot have been without
some cause. What reason of enmity was there between this boy and
Klerkon?"

"No reason but wanton mischief," answered the warrior. "It was a
causeless murder, and we claim the full and lawful punishment."

"Justice shall be done," returned the king. "But I must first know
what the peace breaker may have to say in his own defence. I beg
you, therefore, to keep truce until the sunrise, when the penalty
shall be adjudged."

At hearing this promise the crowd dispersed in peace. Many grumbled
that the customary sentence of death had not been instantly pronounced.
But in causing this delay King Valdemar was but yielding to the
pleadings of the queen, who had implored him to spare the life of
the handsome young murderer, or at the least to save him from the
fury of the vikings.

When the crowd had gone from the courtyard Allogia returned to the
hall in which the steward and Olaf had been kept under the protection
of the guards. Dismissing the men, she turned to Sigurd Erikson.

"You have asked me to save the boy's life, hersir," said she, "but,
alas! I cannot do it. All that the king will do is to give a few
hours' respite. At sunrise the law is to take its course, and much
do I fear that its course will be death."

Olaf heard her words, but did not show any fear of the expected
punishment. It seemed, indeed, that he had become suddenly hard
of heart and dauntless, as though he thought that the killing of
a man was a matter to be proud of. Certainly, in his own mind, he
did not look upon the taking of Klerkon's life as an act of guilt
deserving punishment. He recalled what he had seen on the viking
ship years before. The old man Thoralf had fallen to Klerkon's share
in the dividing of booty. Thoralf had held little Olaf by the hand
as they stood apart on the ship's deck, and Klerkon had come up
to them and roughly separated them, flinging Olaf across to where
young Thorgils stood. Then, tearing off Thoralf's cloak, the viking
had said: "Little use is there in an old toothless hound, but his
flesh may serve as food for the fishes;" and, drawing his sword,
he had given the aged man his death blow and tilted him over into
the sea. So Olaf and Thorgils had sworn to take vengeance upon this
viking, and Olaf had now fulfilled his vow.

The queen came nearer to Olaf, and looked at him tenderly. "It is
a great pity," said she, "that one so fair should be doomed to die
before he has grown to manhood. It might be that with good training
he would become a very famous warrior, and I would gladly see him
enlisted in the service of the king."

She broke off and turned to Sigurd. "Hersir Sigurd," she said,
looking keenly into the steward's face, "I have noticed many times
that you take a more than common interest in this boy. Even now,
when he has broken the law of the land, it is you who take it
upon yourself to plead his cause. It must surely be that you have
powerful reasons for keeping him from harm. Whose son is he? Of
what kin is he? It is but right that I should know."

Sigurd demurred, remembering that it was forbidden by the law of
the land that any king born person should live in Gardarike, except
with the king's permission. He thought that it would go very ill
with himself if Olaf's kingly birth should be known.

"Lady, I cannot tell you," he murmured.

"Would you then rather that the boy should die?" she asked with
anger in her tone.

"Not so," answered Sigurd, drawing himself up to his full height.
"If the boy is to be condemned to death, then I will offer to take
the punishment in his stead."

The queen glanced at him quietly.

"If that be so," said she, "then the sacrifice of your own life
can only be taken as showing that you count the boy of more value
to the world than yourself." She paused for a moment, then added:
"I am your queen, Hersir Sigurd, and I command you to tell me what
I ask. What is the boy's true name, and what is his parentage?"

She went across to the side of the great fireplace, and, seating
herself in one of the large oaken chairs, signed to Sigurd and Olaf
to approach her. Then, taking up an end of the silken robe upon
which she had before been working, she threaded her needle.

"I am ready," she said.

So Sigurd, seeing that there was no way out of his difficulty and
hoping that the telling of his secret might after all be of benefit
to Olaf, obeyed the queen's behest, relating the story of the kings
of Norway and showing how this boy, Olaf, the slayer of Klerkon,
was descended in a direct line from the great King Harald Fairhair.



CHAPTER V: THE STORY OP THE NORSE KINGS.


"On a time very long ago," began Sigurd, as he sat beside Olaf on
a bench facing Queen Allogia, "there reigned in the south of Norway
a young king named Halfdan the Swarthy. His realm was not large,
for the country was at that time divided into many districts,
each having its independent king. But, by warfare and by fortunate
marriage, Halfdan soon increased the possessions which his father
had left to him, so that he became the mightiest king in all the
land. The name of his wife was Queen Ragnhild, who was very beautiful,
and they had a son whom they named Harald.

"This Harald grew to be a very handsome boy, tall and strong and
of great intelligence. He was fond of manly sports, and his skill
and beauty brought him the favour and admiration of all men of the
northland. Well, when Harald was still a youth of ten winters, his
father was one day crossing the ice on the Randsfjord when the ice
broke under him and he was drowned, so his kingdom fell to his son.
The kings whom Halfdan the Swarthy had conquered then bethought
them that they might win back what lands they had lost, and they
accordingly made war against the young king. Many battles were
fought, but Harald was always victorious. Instead of yielding to
his enemies he soon extended his dominions until they stretched as
far north as Orkadale. And then he was content."

Sigurd here raised his eyes and looked across at Allogia as she
silently plied her busy needle.

"It is a long story, lady," he said; "and it may be that it is not
new to you."

"Tell it to the end," returned the queen.

"There lived at that time in Valders a maid named Gyda," continued
Sigurd. "She was the daughter of King Erik of Hordaland, and King
Harald, hearing that she was exceedingly fair and high minded would
fain have her to be his wife. So he sent forth messengers to her,
asking her to wed with him. Now the maid was proud as well as
beautiful, and when she received this message she answered thus:
'Tell your master,' she said, 'that I will not sacrifice myself
to be the wife of a king who has no more realm to rule over than a
few counties. Marvellous it seems to me that there is no king who
can make all Norway his own and be the sole lord thereof, as King
Erik in Sweden, and King Gorm in Denmark. Give this message to
King Harald, and tell him that I will only promise to be his wedded
wife on this condition, that he will for my sake lay under him all
Norway. For only then can he be accounted the king of a people."

"Now these words of Gyda were taken duly to the king, and they
awakened in his mind a thought which had never before occurred to
him, and he said, in the presence of many men: 'This oath do I now
solemnly make, and swear before that God who made me and rules over
all things, that never more will I cut my hair nor comb it until
the day when I have conquered all Norway, and have made myself the
sole ruler of the Northmen. And if I do not fulfil my vow, I shall
die in the attempt.'"

"Spoken like a true king!" interrupted Allogia. "I trust, for the
proud maiden's sake, that he did not take long to fulfil his vow."

"Ten long years it took him," returned Sigurd.  "Northward he sallied
with a vast army and conquered Orkadale, Trondelag, and Naumdale,
and all the country about Thrandheim, making himself the overlord
of all the old kings who thereafter became his earls and vassals.
Those who would not be subdued he killed or maimed. He made new laws,
took from the peasants their odal estates, and declared all land
to be the king's property. Many of the conquered people rebelled
against his rule and his strict feudal laws, and some of his
provinces had to be conquered twice over. But with every year he
came nearer to his goal, and those who opposed him only brought
about their own ruin.

"At last the old kings, smarting in their subjection, banded
themselves together, resolving to assert their ancient rights in
a pitched battle. They assembled a great fleet of warships and met
the conqueror in the Hafrsfjord. In the sea fight that followed
many of Harald's bravest men were slain; spears and stones fell
about them on every side; the air was filled with the flying arrows
as with winter hail. But the king's berserks at length took on
their fury and won for their master the greatest battle that has
ever been fought in Norway. Thus, after a ten years' struggle, did
Harald fulfil his vow.

"At a feast which followed this fight his hair was cut and combed.
Men had formerly named him Harald Shockhead; but now they marvelled at
his new made beauty and called him Harald Fairhair. Then, having
done what he set out to do, he married Gyda and lived with her
until she died.

"From that day forth," continued Sigurd, "Harald Fairhair ruled
with great rigour, and so severely did he tax his people that many
of the nobler and prouder sort grew discontented and straightway
abandoned Norway to seek new homes across the sea. Many were
content to roam upon the waters as vikings; others sailed west to
the Faroe Isles, some settled in Shetland and the Orkneys, while
others went far north into Iceland--a country so rich that, as
I have heard, every blade of grass drips with butter. But Harald
followed these adventurous men who had thus sought to escape his
rule, with the result that he reduced all these islands to his
sway."

At this point of the steward's narrative the queen moved impatiently
and said:

"All this may be very well, Hersir Sigurd. But I fail to see how
this history can bear upon the story of the boy Ole."

"You shall see its bearing very soon," returned Sigurd. "But, if
you so wish, I will cut it short."

"Nay, tell it in your own way," said the queen, "for my time is of
no account."

"You must know, then," pursued Sigurd, "that King Harald Fairhair
had many wives, other than Gyda. And as he had many wives, so had
he many sons. These sons as they grew up to manhood became to him
a serious trouble. They were jealous of each other and for ever
quarrelling among themselves. A chief cause of their disagreement
was their bitter jealousy of Erik, the son whom Harald favoured
above all the rest.

"When Erik was but a mere boy--no older than young Ole, here --
his father gave him the command of five great ships of war, and
with a picked crew of hardy warriors the boy went a-viking along
the coasts, harrying and plundering, fighting and slaughtering
wherever he fell in with ships less powerful than his own. He became
a terror to all peaceful folk, and for his murderous deeds by sea
and land he won the name of Erik Bloodaxe.

"It was through his foolish love of this wild hearted son that
Harald Fairhair was led to commit an act whereby he undid all the
great work of his life. He had succeeded in uniting all Norway into
one nation, and this was good. But now nothing would suit him but
that he should once more divide his great realm into many provinces.
He therefore created all his sons kings, and gave to each his portion
of the country, on condition that after his own death they should
all acknowledge Erik Bloodaxe their overlord.

"But no sooner had this unwise course been taken than the sons began
to quarrel more wildly than ever. There was but one son among them
who was wise enough to enjoy his share in contentment and keep
peace. This was Olaf, the son of Queen Swanhild. To him King Harald
had given the country of Viken, in the south of Norway. Olaf was
the father of Triggvi, and the grandfather of the boy who is now
before you."'

Allogia's eyes were now fixed upon young Olaf, who sat at his ease
in front of her with his arm resting on the back of the bench and
his fingers playing idly with his long gold curls.

"Truly did I guess," said she, "that the boy had kingly blood in
him. Such silken hair, such clear soft skin, and beautiful blue
eyes could not possibly have come of lowly birth. And now do I
well believe that it was he whom the king's mother meant when, at
the yuletide feast, she spoke of the child who was destined to be
brought up here in Holmgard, and who was to grow to be a famous
prince." She smiled softly on the boy as she said this.  "And now,
hersir," she added, "we will hear the rest of your saga."

Sigurd rose from the bench and began to pace slowly to and fro with
his hands clasped behind his back.

"Of all King Harald's sons," said he, "Erik Bloodaxe was the one
who had the most ambition and who fought hardest to win worship from
his brothers. In his strivings he did not scruple to act unfairly.
He stooped to treachery, and even to murder. He first killed his
brother, Ragnvald Rattlebone, because he was said to be a sorcerer.
Next he killed his brother Biorn, because he refused to pay him
homage and tribute. None of Harald's sons could be safe while Erik
was thus allowed to take the law into his own hands; so two other
of the brothers attempted to take Erik's life, by setting fire to
a farmhouse in which he was feasting. But Erik escaped with four
men, secured his father's protection, and for a time there was
peace.

"Now King Harald Fairhair had a young son named Hakon, the child
of his old age, and this son became in the after years a very great
man in the land, and was called Hakon the Good.

"The King of England in those days was named Athelstane the Victorious,
and it is told that on a time Athelstane, who was passing jealous
of the power of Harald Fairhair, sent a messenger to Norway bearing
a precious sword as a gift to King Harald. The sword was done with
gold about the hilt and set with dear bought gems, and well tempered
in the blade. So the messenger fared to Lade, in Thrandheim, where
Harald dwelt, and said he: 'Here is a sword which the King of England
sendeth thee, bidding thee take it withal.' So the king took the
grip of it. Then said the messenger: 'Thou hast taken the sword
even as our king wished, and thou art therefore his sword taker
and vassal.'

"Well, Harald was angry at being thus tricked, and he pondered how
he might pay back King Athelstane, so the next year he got ship and
sent his young son Hakon to England, along with a great berserker,
or champion, named Hawk, and thirty warriors. They found the king
in London town, and, being fully armed, they entered his feasting
hall where he sat. Hawk took the child Hakon and placed him on King
Athelstane's knee, saying: 'The King of Norway biddeth thee foster
this his child.'

"Athelstane was exceeding wroth, and he caught up his sword that
lay beside him and drew it as if he would slay the lad. Then said
Hawk: 'Thou hast set the child on thy knee and mayest murder him
if thou wilt, but not thus withal wilt thou make an end of all the
sons of King Harald Fairhair.'

"Thus did the King of Norway pay back the King of England in his
own coin, for men ever account the fosterer less noble than him
whose child he fosters. Howbeit, King Athelstane kept the lad and
fostered him right well. Thereafter he treated young Hakon with
great kindness, taught him good manners and all kinds of prowess,
and in the end grew to love him more than any of his own kin. In
England, Hakon abandoned his faith in the gods of Scandinavia, and
became a worshipper of the White Christ, for in that land all men
are Christians, and Thor and Odin have no power.

"Now, while Hakon was away in England, his elder brother, Erik
Bloodaxe, went a-warring in his viking ships to many lands --
Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and Normandy, and north away in Finland.
And in Finland he found a certain woman, the like of whom he had
never seen for fairness in all his roamings. She was named Gunnhild,
and had learned all kinds of sorcery and witchcraft among the
Finns. Erik wedded with this woman, and it afterwards befell that
she wrought more evil in Norway than even Erik himself. She was
his evil genius, egging him on to deeds of treachery and violence
which made him detested of all men.

"Glad was Gunnhild when Harald the Fairhaired, being stricken in
years, declared that he felt no longer able to bear the burden of
the government. This he did when he was eighty years old. He led
his son Erik to his royal high seat and put him there as the king,
so that Gunnhild by this became the queen, and could work her evil
as she willed.

"Three years afterwards Harald Fairhair died in his bed, having
ruled over Norway for seventy-three years."

Sigurd paused in his narrative and sat down beside Olaf. He felt
that the queen's interest in his nephew was now secure and that
it boded well for Olaf. Allogia set aside her needle and nodded to
the steward as if she would tell him to continue his saga. Sigurd
leaned back in his seat, crossed his legs, and went on.

"King Erik now held dominion over the larger part of Norway," said
he. "But there were two of his brothers who would not yield to him,
and who yet peacefully ruled in the realms over which their father
had placed them. Olaf--the son of King Harald and Queen Swanhild
-- was the sovereign king in Viken, and his brother Halfdan in
like manner ruled in Thrandheim. Full ill content was Erik that he
could not truthfully call himself the lord over all Norway. But,
as he could not be king by favour alone, he resolved to become so
by other means. Two winters after Erik's enthronement his brother
Halfdan died a sudden and painful death at a feast in Thrandheim.
It is told that he was cunningly poisoned by Queen Gunnhild. Erik
straightway claimed his dead brother's kingdom; but the Thrandheimers
would have none of him; they declared against him, and took another
brother, Sigrod, for their king. To protect themselves against their
overbearing brother, Sigrod and Olaf joined their forces. But Erik
attacked them unawares with a great army at Tunsberg and won the
day. Both Olaf and Sigrod, champions in the battle, were killed.
Olaf's son, Triggvi, escaped, however, and fled away to the Uplands,
where he remained as long as Erik Bloodaxe was master in the land.
Triggvi was the biggest and strongest of men, and the fairest of
face of all that have ever been seen.

"Erik Bloodaxe had now killed four of his brothers and caused the
death of a fifth. He had made himself the king of all Norway, even
as his father had been. Yet the people misliked him sorely, they
were for ever striving to displace him and to set up Triggvi Olafson
in his stead. Then Queen Gunnhild swore that, if Erik would not
make his rule a certainty, she at least would not rest until she
had exterminated all the race of Harald Fairhair outside of her
husband's line."

Here Olaf spoke, leaning forward and looking round into Sigurd's
face.

"I think," said he, "that if I had been in my father's place I
would have rid the earth of so murderous a traitor as Erik Bloodaxe."

"Your father was a peace lover," returned Sigurd, "though, indeed,
there was not in all the land at that time a more splendid warrior
than he. But there were other reasons. The first was that Triggvi
was passing content in the place where he was living, away in the
Uplands, for there he had become the friend of a great earl who
had most fruitful lands at Ofrestead, and he had won the love of
the earl's daughter, Astrid, the most beautiful maid in all Norway.
Her he had wedded, and they were very happy together and free from
all the cares of state and war. This do I know full well," added
Sigurd, addressing Allogia, "for Queen Astrid was my own dear
sister, and Earl Erik of Ofrestead was my own father."

"Then," said Queen Allogia, "it must be that Astrid was the mother
of this boy whose cause you are now pleading; and in that case you
yourself must be our young Ole's uncle?"

"It is even so," replied Sigurd. "And now I must tell the second
reason why Triggvi did not try to compass the death of King Erik.
It was that Queen Gunnhild had already been seeking to fulfil her
vow, and had been attempting through her wicked sorcery to bring
about young Triggvi's death. So Triggvi thereupon left Astrid in
the care of her father, and went a-warring as a viking. He sailed
west over sea to Scotland, and there harried the coasts; and then
to the Orkneys, where he had many battles with the vikings of the
isles. So that when the people sought for him, wishing to make him
their king, he could not be found.

"Well, in the meantime there had appeared another who had rightful
claim to the throne. Hakon, Athelstane's foster son, had come back
from England on hearing of King Harald's death. He was now a full
grown man and a valiant warrior. When he landed in Trondelag the
people hailed him with great rejoicing, and declared that old Harald
Fairhair had come back once more, gentler and more generous than
before, but no less mighty and beautiful. They claimed him as
their king, calling him Hakon the Good, and he reigned in Norway
for many years, nor did he seek to do any ill to his nephew, Triggvi
Olafson, but confirmed him as king in Viken.

"Now when Hakon the Good returned it was an ill day for his elder
brother Erik Bloodaxe, for the people had become so wroth against
him that he could find no peace. At first he tried to raise an army,
but none would serve him, and he was forced to flee from the land
with his wife and children and a few weak followers. He thereupon
took a ship and roamed about as a viking. He fared westward to the
Orkneys, and got many vikings to join him, then he sailed south
and harried all about the north parts of England. So greatly did
he trouble the English people that at last King Athelstane, to win
his peace, offered Erik the dominion over Northumberland, on the
condition that he would become the king's vassal and defend that
part of the realm against the Danes and other vikings. Erik agreed,
allowed himself to be christened, and took the right troth.

"Now Northumbria is accounted the fifth part of England, and the
better bargain was on Erik's side. He made his abode in the town
of York, and he warded the country well, for full oft did the Danes
and Northmen harry there in the earlier time. But very soon, urged,
it may be, by Queen Gunnhild, he sought to increase his wealth
and to add to his lands; and when Athelstane died and King Edmund
became the monarch of England Erik Bloodaxe went far into the land,
and forcibly drove the people from their homes. Too greatly did he
reckon upon success, for it happened that there was another who,
like himself, had been set there by the king for the warding of
the country. This other gathered an army and fell upon Erik. There
was a great battle, and many of the English folk were killed; but
ere the day was ended Erik lay dead upon the field, and that was
the last of him.

"No longer could Queen Gunnhild hope to dwell at peace in England.
Her husband's estates were forfeited, and she had no home. So she
took her children and sailed east to Denmark. There she was well
received by the Danish king, Harald Bluetooth. But in spite of
her misfortune her ambitions were not dead, for she had many sons
growing up, and she had a mind to make them all kings in Norway.
These sons, as you may well suppose, had little goodwill for Hakon
the Good, who had dispossessed them of their inheritance. The
eldest of them had roved for a while as vikings, and were already
skilled in warfare, so Gunnhild contrived to get them ships and
followers, and sent them across to Viken, the part of Norway where,
as I have said, King Triggvi Olafson reigned. They had many battles
with Triggvi, but they could not conquer him. But at last King
Hakon came to his nephew's help, and with him pursued the sons of
Gunnhild into Denmark.

"This attack upon Danish soil brought about a war between the kings
of Denmark and Norway, and in a battle at Sotoness Triggvi Olafson
was defeated. He was forced to abandon his ships and save himself
by flight. In a later battle Hakon the Good was killed. It is said
that Gunnhild had bewitched the arrow that slew him.

"Hakon had never tried very hard to make his people Christians,
and he had himself drifted back to the worship of Thor and Odin.
One of his friends, when he was dying, offered to take his body
over to England, so that he might be buried in Christian soil, but
Hakon replied: 'I am not worthy of it. I have lived like a heathen,
and therefore it is meet that I should be buried like a heathen.'"

Queen Allogia drew a heavy breath at this point in Sigurd's narrative,
as if she thought that the story would have no end.

"Your voice gets tired, hersir," said she, "and it may be that you
would wish to keep the rest of the saga for another time!"

"There is but little more to tell," returned Sigurd, looking up
with anxious eyes. "And as what is left is the more important part,
I beg you to hear it to the end."

The queen assented, and Sigurd took up the thread of his story:

"Little time did the sons of Gunnhild lose," said he, "in claiming
the kingdom of their fathers; but it was only the middle part of
Norway that they could possess in safety. To gain the whole country
they had need to break the power of Triggvi Olafson and Gudrod
Biornson, both grandsons of Harald Fairhair, who ruled as independent
kings. To do this in open warfare was not easy. Gunnhild, who now
forced her sons to action, as she had formerly forced Erik Bloodaxe,
found treachery an easier means; so she got one of her sons to
feign hostility to his brothers and to make a show of friendship
for Triggvi Olafson. King Triggvi was invited by this son to go out
on a cruise with him. Triggvi yielded to his false friend's wish,
and on reaching the place of meeting he was foully murdered with
all his men. His cousin, King Gudrod Biornson, was at about this
same time surprised at a feast by Harald Greyfell and slain after
a desperate fight.

"Thus did the sons of Gunnhild clear their path. Thus, too, did the
wicked queen fulfil the vow that she had sworn many years before,
to exterminate the whole race of Harald Fairhair outside her
husband's line.

"But," added Sigurd, in a deep and solemn voice, "the flower that
is trampled under foot may yet leave its seed behind to come forth
in its own season and flourish. The race of King Harald was not yet
dead, and Queen Gunnhild presently found that there was a woman in
Norway whose true love and faithfulness were better than all the
guile and treachery that jealousy could devise. Triggvi Olafson's
widow, Queen Astrid, when she heard tidings of his murder, guessed
rightly that Gunnhild would pursue her, so she fled from Viken,
and journeyed north towards the Uplands, taking with her her two
young daughters, Ingibiorg and Astrid, together with such chattels
as she might have with her. In her company was her foster father,
Thoralf Lusaskegg by name, and his young son Thorgils. Thoralf
never left her, but guarded her always most faithfully, while other
trusty men of hers went about spying for tidings of her foes.

"Now very soon Astrid heard that Gunnhild's sons were pursuing her
with intent to kill her, so she let herself be hidden on a little
island in the midst of a certain lake. There on that island her
son was born, and she had him sprinkled with water and named Olaf,
after his father's father."

Sigurd paused, and laying his hand on Olaf's shoulder, "This," said
he, "is that same child, Olaf Triggvison, and he is the one true
flower of which King Harald Fairhair was the parent stem. An ill
thing would it be for Norway if, for the slaying of Klerkon the
Viking, he were now to lose his life. And I beg you, oh, queen! to
deal kindly with this king's son so hardly dealt with, and to deal
with King Valdemar concerning him that his life may be spared."

Then Queen Allogia answered, looking on the lad, that she would do
as Sigurd wished.

"And now," she added, "tell me how it came to pass that the boy
was ever brought across the sea to Esthonia."

So Sigurd told how Queen Astrid journeyed farther into the Uplands
until she came to her father's manor at Ofrestead; how, dwelling
there, she had been at last discovered by Gunnhild's spies, and
been forced to take flight that she might save young Olaf from
their murderous hands. For Gunnhild had now heard of the birth of
this son of King Triggvi, and nothing would content her, but that
he should die ere he could grow up to manhood, and so dispute with
her own sons the realm that they now usurped.

He told how Queen Astrid, leaving her two daughters at Ofrestead,
had fared east away into Sweden, and of what privations she had
borne for her son's sake, and of how, still pursued by her enemies,
she had at length taken safe refuge with Hakon Gamle, a friend of
her father's.

"But even here," continued Sigurd, "Queen Gunnhild's enmity followed
her. This time it was not with the sword but with soft words that
Gunnhild sought to gain her ends. She sent a message through the
King of Sweden, asking that she might have Olaf back in Norway to
live in her court, and to be taught and nurtured as behoved one
of such exalted birth. But Astrid knew full well that there was
falseness underlying this message, and she sent word back to Norway
saying that her boy stood in no need of such help, and that she
would herself see that he was both well nurtured and fitly taught.

"I have told you," said Sigurd, "that Queen Astrid was my own
sister. Now, at the time I speak of I was already in the service
of King Valdemar; so Astrid thought that the best means of escaping
her enemies and of saving her son was that she should come here
with Olaf into Holmgard. The boy was then three winters old and
full sturdy. So Hakon Gamle gave her a good company of men, and
took her down to the seacoast and gave her into the care of certain
traders whose ship was bound eastward.

"But now as they made out to sea vikings fell on them, and took
both men and money. Some they slew, and some they shared between
them for bondslaves. Then was Olaf parted from his mother, and the
captain of the vikings, an Esthonian named Klerkon Flatface, got
him along with Thoralf and Thorgils. Klerkon deemed Thoralf over
old for a thrall, and, seeing no work in him, slew him and flung
him overboard, but he had the lads away with him, and sold them
into slavery. Olaf and Thorgils swore foster brotherhood, and they
took oath in handshaking that they would bring this viking to his
bane. That oath did Olaf fulfil this day, when he drove his axe
into Klerkon's head."

Sigurd rose from his seat and stood before the queen.

"And now," said he, "my story is at an end, and you know of what
kin this boy has come. Well am I aware, oh, queen! that in fostering
a king's son I have broken the law of this land. I seek no pardon
for myself. For Olaf alone do I ask your help. And if King Valdemar
condemn him to death for his crime, then do I crave that my life,
and not the boy's, be taken."

"Go with the boy to your home," returned the queen. "None shall
hurt either him or you. Wait in patience until the sun rise, and
then you shall know the issue of my pleadings with the king."

And so saying, she signed to them to leave the hall.



CHAPTER VI: THE TRAINING OF OLAF.


Very much of this story that Sigurd had told was strangely new to
Olaf, and even the parts that he had before been familiar with came
to him with fresh meaning. He had known all along of his descent
from King Harald Fairhair, but not until now did he fully and
clearly understand that by the death of his father and of all his
father's brothers he was himself at this moment the sole heir to
the throne of Norway. Now for the first time he realized that during
all that past time, when he had been living as a poor and wretched
bondslave in Esthonia, he had held this glorious birthright.

As he lay on his bed that night, thinking over all that he had
heard, he tried to comprehend all that it must mean to him in the
future, and in his own boyish way he made great resolves of how,
when the fitting moment should come, he would sail across the sea,
and, landing on the shores of Norway, tell his people the story
of his royal birth and heritage, so that they might know him and
acknowledge him their king, even as they had acknowledged Hakon
the Good. But in the midst of his dreaming there came to him the
remembrance of the crime that he had just committed, and he began
to dread that King Valdemar might hold him guilty, and order him
to be slain.

All through the long night this dread haunted him. He had killed
Jarl Klerkon, and the sense of his own guilt now preyed upon him
like a terrible nightmare. He wondered by what means they would
take his life. Would they smite off his head with a sharp sword or
shoot an arrow into his heart, or would they slowly torture him to
death? Perhaps they would deem him too young to be thus punished by
the taking of his life; but if they spared his life he would none
the less be punished, for they would throw him into the dark prison
that he had once seen under the king's castle, and there they
would leave him to languish in chains for many years, so that his
strength would go from him, and he would be no longer fit to be
called a king.

Not for a moment did Olaf think of allowing his Uncle Sigurd to
take the punishment for his crime. He knew that Sigurd had made
no idle offer when he had said that he would give up his life for
his sake; but Sigurd was guiltless, and it would be a coward's act
to allow him to make this sacrifice. With all his newborn hopes
burning within him, it was a hard thing for Olaf to think of death.
Nevertheless, before the night was half spent he had resolved to
take whatever punishment should be meted out to him, and if need
be to face even death with a brave heart.

Early on the next morning he was awakened from his sleep by the
touch of rough hands upon him. His own hands were seized, and heavy
chains were bound upon his wrists and ankles. Then he was taken away
and thrust into a dark cell that was cold, and damp, and airless.
No food was given to him, and very soon the pangs of hunger made
him wild and restless. A sudden dread came upon him that they meant
to starve him to death. But not long had he been imprisoned before
the heavy door was again thrown open, and he was summoned forth. Two
men of the king's bodyguard led him into the great hall, where he
was met by a loud clamour of voices. He looked about him fearlessly
at the crowd of townsfolk and vikings, who were there, as he now
well knew, to bear witness against him and to hear him condemned.
As he stood facing them the vikings broke into fierce cries for
speedy vengeance, and he felt the hot blood rush to his cheeks and
brow. His clear blue eyes flashed in bold challenge as one of the
seamen called out aloud:

"Death to him! Death to the slayer of our chief!" Then one of the
king's lawmen demanded silence, and Olaf was made to turn with his
face to the high seat. There sat King Valdemar in his robes of
justice, and with his naked sword lying before him on the oaken
table. At his right side sat Queen Allogia, with her eyes fixed
gravely upon the young criminal.

Presently, when there was complete silence, Olaf's accuser stepped
forward, and making the sign of Thor's hammer, spoke aloud. He was
named Rand the Strong, and the vikings had chosen him as their captain
in the place of the dead Jarl Klerkon. He told very truthfully how
the young prisoner had made his attack upon Klerkon, and showed
that it was in no mean and underhand way that he had committed
this crime, but with such boldness that none had guessed what was
happening until they saw Klerkon fall to the ground with the lad's
axe buried deep in his skull.

Then came others, both townsfolk and seafolk, declaring that Rand
had spoken truly. And so when all who accused the boy had spoken,
Sigurd, the king's steward, was bidden to rise and say what he knew
in Olaf's favour.

"The boy is my own servant," said he, "and I bought him as a thrall
from a certain yeoman in Esthonia. I know no ill against him, and
it was not in his nature to commit any violent act without cause.
Rash he certainly was in killing this viking without due warning.
But Jarl Klerkon was a man whose skill and prowess have made him
well known on all the seas where the vikings are wont to do battle,
and I think he might easily have defended himself against this
child, who, as you have heard, attacked him face to face in the
full daylight. As to the cause of this attack it was this: some
seven summers back Jarl Klerkon assailed and captured a certain
merchant ship, on board of which were this boy Ole, his mother,
and his foster father. Klerkon slew the boy's foster father and
sold the mother and her child into bondage. The boy took oath of
vengeance, which oath he has now fulfilled. Now," continued Sigurd,
raising his voice so that all could hear, "it is not lawful for
any Esthonian viking to attack a peaceful trading ship; but Klerkon
assuredly did this, and I therefore hold that it was he who was
the aggressor. For this reason, and also on account of his youth,
I crave that the boy's life be spared."

While Sigurd was speaking, Olaf's eyes rested upon the queen. He
saw her lean over and whisper in the king's ear. The king nodded
and smiled, waited until there was silence, and then said briefly:

"Little question is there that the offender is guilty. He is guilty,
and must suffer the penalty of his crime. But as he is still little
more than a child in years the penalty will not be death, but the
payment of a heavy fine. He will, therefore, pay to the vikings
whom he has injured the sum of two hundred gold marks."

Now Olaf deemed this judgment very hard, for he had not the money
wherewith to pay this fine. But his life had been spared, and that
was a great matter. It might be that Sigurd Erikson, who was as he
knew very wealthy, would help him to meet the weregild.

Meanwhile the vikings had put their heads together in council. They
decided that as the young murderer's death would in no way profit
them they would accept the fine. But there was yet something that
seemed to trouble them, and at last Rand the Strong came forward
before the king.

"We are well content with thy judgment, O king," said he, "and we
agree that on receiving this money we shall not molest the lad any
longer on account of this matter. But we are told that he is only
a thrall, and that there is no hope of our getting the gold from
him. Therefore we claim that he shall die the death."

Olaf looked towards his uncle as if expecting that he would at once
offer to pay this gold. But Sigurd's eyes were fixed upon Queen
Allogia, who now slowly rose from her seat and held up her hand to
silence the loud murmur of voices that filled the hall.

"As to this money," said she, addressing the vikings in a clear
ringing voice, "there is no need that you concern yourselves. The
gold shall now be paid to you in full. It is here!" she cried,
throwing down a bag of coins upon the table. "Now, loosen the boy's
chains! Loosen his chains and set him free."

Then Olaf's warders unbound him, and at a sign from the queen he
stepped to the table and took up the bag of gold and carried it
to Rand the Strong, who received it from him with willing hands,
bidding the boy have no further fear.

On that same day the vikings departed out of Holmgard not ill
pleased, for they went away much richer than they had come, and
none of them seemed at all sorry at the loss of their chief. Jarl
Klerkon had gone to Valhalla, they said, and he was surely happier
than they.

Now on the day after the paying of the weregild Olaf had audience
with Queen Allogia, and he thanked her well for the great friendship
she had shown him.

"Little do I deserve your thanks, Prince Olaf," said she. "What I
have done is no more than I would wish any other woman to do for
my own son if he were so hardly dealt with in a foreign land. And
now," she added, "since I have at length learned of what great kin
you are, it is my wish that you shall be received here as becomes
your royal birth, and that you shall be educated as behoves a
king's son. Too young are you yet to bear arms as a warrior. For
the present, therefore, you shall attend upon me as my page, and
you will be treated with all kindness."

Not as a servant, but rather as an honoured courtier was Olaf
Triggvison received after this time. He was twelve winters old
when he came into Holmgard, and he abode in King Valdemar's service
other five winters. Little can be told of his life during those
years. They were years of preparation for his great work in the
after time; and although he learnt very much and acquired a large
part of the skill that was to make him famous among men, yet his
days were without adventure.

There was one matter which had sorely troubled him for many a long
day, and this was the thought of his mother living in bondage. Little
did he remember of those early times when she had done so much for
his sake; he had been too young then to understand what sacrifices
Queen Astrid had made and what privations she had endured. But ever
as he grew older he thought more of her, and it pained him very
much to know that even now, when he was living in comfort, with good
food and rich apparel, she, to whom he owed so much, was perhaps
labouring as a bondswoman under some cruel master.

On a certain summer morning he sat in the queen's presence, playing
upon a little harp that Allogia had given to him. And as his deft
fingers touched the trembling strings he chanted a little song,
telling of how the giant Loki, in punishment for all the ills he
had done to gods and men, was bound by strong cords against the
walls of a cave, with a serpent suspended over him dropping venom
into his face drop by drop; and of how Sigyn his wife took pity on
him and stood by him for hundreds of years, catching the drops as
they fell in a cup which she held.

Suddenly in the midst of his song Olaf stopped. The queen looked
round at him and saw that there were tears in his eyes.

"Why do you weep?" she asked. "Are you not happy, Olaf?"

"Happy enough am I for my own sake," he replied. "It was the thought
of my mother that brought the tears to my eyes. I was thinking
that what Sigyn did for the wicked giant was just such a good act
as my mother would do for anyone whom she loved."

"Marvellous it seems to me," said Allogia, "that we can never learn
what has become of the good Queen Astrid."

"I think," returned Olaf, "that if ever I were to journey into
Esthonia I might get some tidings of her. The last that I heard of
her was that she had been sold to a rich fisherman named Hallstein,
who made her labour at cleaning the fish for him and mending his
nets."

"A sorry occupation for a queen to be at!" Allogia said with a
sigh. "But if it be that you have any hope of finding her, then it
would be well if you made that journey you speak of. Sigurd Erikson
goes north to Esthonia in three days' time, on business for the
king. Will you not go with him?"

"Gladly will I go with him," answered Olaf, "if it be that I may."

Well, on the third day Olaf and Sigurd mounted their horses, and
with a good company of men-at-arms set off on their journey over
the rocky plains. Five days were they riding before they came within
sight of the blue sea with its ships and its quiet green islands.
That sight brought a restless yearning into Olaf's spirit. It seemed
as if nothing would now content him but that he should go out upon
the wide ocean and spend all his days in roving. And so much did
he speak of the ships and of the viking life that when at last the
time came for the return to Holmgard, Sigurd Erikson had hard work
to win the boy away with him.

While Sigurd was dealing with the people concerning the king's
business, Olaf Triggvison went about from place to place in quest
of tidings of Queen Astrid. But nothing certain could he learn,
for he dared not say that the woman he sought was the widow of King
Triggvi, and when he told of her fairness those whom he questioned
only shook their heads. They had seen many bondswomen who were
fair, they said, and how could they tell that any one of them was
she whom the young hersir was now seeking? At last Olaf found his
way to the house of Hallstein the fisher, only to hear that Hallstein
had been drowned in the sea full five winters before. But Olaf
described his mother to the fisher's widow, who bade him fare
to a certain yeoman named Einar Ulfsson, at a farmstead over the
hills. So Olaf took horse and rode away to this man and questioned
him concerning Astrid. Einar remembered her, for she had been his
bondwoman for two summers. He had sold her, he said, to a stranger,
who had taken her on board his ship and carried her away across
the seas. This was the last trace of his mother that Olaf could
discover, and he went back to Sigurd Erikson and told him what he
had learned. Sigurd was very sad at this, for he loved his sister,
and it pained him to think that she was still in slavery, when, if
she could but be found, she might live in comfort and happiness.
But he bade Olaf to be hopeful, "for," said he, "I think it may be
that some friendly man has bought her and taken her home to Norway.
And if that be so, then we shall soon learn the truth. I will send
messengers to Ofrestead, and my father, Earl Erik, will surely find
her if she is to be found."

Now when Olaf returned to Holmgard it was with the resolve that
he would not long remain in this foreign land, but would take his
first chance to go west over sea to the country of his birth. He
had seen the ships passing along the rocky coasts of Esthonia; he
had breathed the fresh free air of the sea, and the viking blood
in him had been roused. His spirit was filled with the ambition to
be the commander of a great warship, and to rove the ocean as his
father had done, to visit distant lands and to make himself glorious
in battle. But well he knew that to fit himself for the viking
life he must increase his strength of body and acquire even greater
skill than he now had in the use of all warlike weapons. So he set
himself the task of excelling in the games and exercises that were
then known and practised.

Already he had been taught by his uncle to read runes, to recite
sagas, to play upon the harp, to carve wood, to twist string, to
bend a bow, and to shaft an arrow. These and many other arts had
come easy to his active mind and his deft fingers. All that a man
of peace need know he knew full well. Nor had he neglected to give
thought to the religion of his times. Every day he went into the
temple to bow down in devout worship of the heathen gods, to take
part in the rites and ceremonies of his faith, and even to offer
sacrifice to Thor and Odin. The graven image of Odin was to him,
as to most of the Norsemen, a sacred and a holy thing. When he took
oath it was by the sign of Thor's hammer that he swore; he knew
the names and the special powers of all the gods in Asgard, and
Valhalla was the heaven to which, after death, he hoped to go.

But these arts and this religion would not alone fit him for
fulfilling his ambition. To be such a great viking as he dreamed
of becoming he must learn how to use his sword, how to wield his
battleaxe, how to throw a spear and to shoot an arrow with greater
skill than any other man could boast. He must learn, too, how to
defend himself, and how, if wounded, to bear pain without shrinking.
He was a king's son, and to be worthy of his father it was well that
he should excel even the full grown men who had been well tried in
battle and who had never known the meaning of defeat.

To this end Olaf remained three other years in Holmgard, which time
he spent in making himself strong. In the neighbouring waters of
Lake Ilmen he practised swimming, and with such success that at
last he could remain under the surface for many minutes, diving
off a ship's prow and coming up again under her steering board.
So quickly and strongly could he swim that no man rowing in a boat
could keep level with him. He could ride the wildest horse in the
king's stable. At running and jumping no man could surpass him.
In the use of the sword he was so expert that he could wield the
weapon with either hand, and he could throw two spears at once.
Never was he known to shoot an arrow without hitting the mark. So
long as daylight served him he was always to be found performing
some manly feat.

But in these matters it was not his training alone that aided him.
Nature had given him a very beautiful and powerful frame, with well
proportioned limbs, clear quick eyesight, and wonderful strength to
endure all fatigue. Also, through all his life he was never known
to be afraid of any danger or to shrink before any enemy. Other men
of his race have won undying renown, but Olaf Triggvison has ever
been accounted the fairest and tallest and strongest of all the
heroes of Scandinavia, and in prowess surpassing all the warriors
told of in the sagas.



CHAPTER VII: THE CAPTAIN OF THE HOST.


It befell at a time when Olaf had been in the queen's service
some four summers that Sigurd Erikson went out into the far parts
of the king's dominions to levy the yearly taxes upon the people,
and among those that went with him on his journey were Thorgils
Thoralfson and the young Egbert of England. These two had, by
Olaf's favour with King Valdemar, been liberated from their bondage
and hard labour, and Sigurd had taken them into his service as
men-at-arms. Brave and handsome they looked as they sat upon their
chargers with their swords hanging at their sides and the sun
shining on their burnished bronze helmets and coats of ring mail.
Olaf watched them with admiring eyes as they rode away through
the town, and wished that he might be of their company. But their
journey was one of peace, and it was only their martial array that
made him for the moment envious.

Sigurd was expected to be absent for little more than two weeks,
but the time went by, the weeks passed into months, and he did not
return.

On a certain day Olaf was beyond the gates training a pair of young
hounds. As he watched one of the dogs running in pursuit of a hare
that had been started he espied afar off a horseman riding swiftly
across the plain, almost hidden in a cloud of dust. Nearer and nearer
he approached until Olaf at last saw his face, and knew him to be
his young friend Egbert. Leaving the dogs in the care of two of
the king's servants who were attending him, he set off at a quick
run to meet the horseman.

"What brings you back alone, Egbert?" he cried as he came near.

Egbert drew rein. His garments were torn and dusty; he had lost his
helmet and sword, and his face was so begrimed and travel stained
that he was scarcely to be recognized.

"I have brought ill news," he answered, "and am hastening with it
to King Valdemar. It is full five days since I parted company with
my fellows. They are all made captive--the Hersir Sigurd, Thorgils
Thoralfson, and the rest of them--and I alone have escaped."

Olaf turned, and taking Egbert's stirrup strap in his hand trotted
on at the horse's side.

"Seven days ago," Egbert went on, "we crossed in one of the king's
ships to an island that lies out to the west of Esthonia. Dago is
the name of the island.

"There Sigurd landed, meaning to gather taxes and tribute from the
people. But no sooner was he ashore than the people told him that
they were no longer the subjects of King Valdemar but of a new king
whom they had chosen for themselves. Sigurd disputed their right
to elect a new king for themselves, and he asked to see this man
and to know the name of him who had dared to set himself up in
opposition to Valdemar. Then there was a commotion among the crowd,
and one stepped forward and cried out, 'I am the king, and my name
is Rand the Strong!' and we all knew him to be the same viking who
four summers ago was here in Holmgard in the train of Jan Klerkon.
Sigurd grew ill at ease seeing the vast crowd of islanders that
had now gathered there, but he spoke boldly, and told them all that
they were a pack of rebels, and that King Valdemar would speedily
prove to them that he would not brook the interference of this
upstart sea rover. At that Rand drew his sword and called to his
men to stand by their rights and drive these intruders from their
shores. There was a brief fight, in which I know not how many men
were slain or wounded, and in the end the islanders got the victory.
Sigurd fought bravely until he was disarmed and made prisoner.
Thorgils and five others of our men were carried off with him.
Our ship, too, was captured. Darkness came on ere the fight was
finished, and under the cover of night I crept down to the seashore
and waded out into the sea. By the light of the stars I took my
bearings and swam out eastward to the mainland. All through the
night I swam on and on. The sun rose, and still the land was afar
off. But at the midday I came to a firm footing on the beach. At
a farmstead I got food and a horse, and for two days I have been
travelling without rest."

"You have done wondrous well," cried Olaf. "And much do I envy you
your adventure."

"There is little cause for envy," returned Egbert. "My limbs are
so weary that I can scarcely sit upright upon my horse's back, and
he, poor dumb brute, is so wind broken that he can be of little
more use in the world. As to adventure, you might now have it in
plenty if the king would but agree to your being of those who must
go to the rescue of our comrades. You are young, and have had no
experience in warfare; but you can, for all that, wield a sword as
well as any man in Valdemar's service."

Olaf was silent, and when they entered the gates he did not seek
to accompany Egbert into the presence of the king. Instead, he made
his way into Queen Allogia's apartments, and there told the news
that he had just heard.

Not long had he been in the hall wherein the queen sat when the
door opened and King Valdemar entered, looking very grave. Olaf
rose from his seat and bowed before him.

"What is your age, my boy?" asked Valdemar.

"Sixteen summers, lord," answered Olaf, wondering at the reason of
the question.

The king eyed him from head to foot.

"It is still very young," said he with a smile. "But your strength
is greater than your years. Not often have I seen one so young
with limbs so sturdy and with figure so nobly upright. I have been
thinking that you have lingered long enough about the skirts of
our womenfolk. Such skill as yours should be put to more manly uses
than fingering the harp and carrying the wine cup, and I have now
a mind to see what you can do in active warfare. There is trouble
among the people over in the Isle of Dago. I have had news that
a rebellion has broken out, and that the islanders have chosen a
new king to themselves and refused to acknowledge their rightful
sovereign. These rebels must be instantly quelled, and I have
therefore resolved to despatch a company of men against them and
force them to submit. What say you to your taking the command of
the expedition?"

"The command?" repeated Olaf, drawing back in astonishment. "But
I am no more than a boy. My heart is willing and bold; but surely
I am too young to undertake so grave a trust!"

"Yes," cried the queen, growing white even to the lips at thought
of her favourite being thus thrust into a post of danger. "Yes,"
she cried, "he is assuredly too young for such a charge!"

But King Valdemar shook his head.

"Not so," said he with confidence. "Young though he may be in years,
I am well assured that there is no man now living in this kingdom
who is better fitted for the leading of an armed host, and I will
trust him to the full." Then turning to Olaf he added: "The matter
is already settled. It so chances that there are at this present
time six of our best warships, with their full number of seamen and
warriors, now lying in the haven behind Odinsholm. You will depart
hence at daybreak, with such armed horsemen and footmen as you
choose to take in your company. Ere you reach the coast the ship
captains will have been informed that I have placed you over them
as their chief and commander."

Scarcely able to believe in the reality of what he heard, Olaf
stood before the king in silent perplexity. He lacked not faith in
his own personal prowess, for that had many times been amply proved
in the games and exercises that he had daily engaged in, nor did
his courage fail him. But to be placed at the head of Some hundreds
of well tried warriors and told to lead them against an enemy, this
was a matter of which he had as yet only vaguely dreamed. For many
moments he stood in doubt. But suddenly it seemed that a new light
came into his clear blue eyes, and a fuller vigour into his strong
young limbs.

"If it be your wish, lord," he said at last, "then I will undertake
the trust. My great forefather, King Harald Fairhair, was younger
than I now am when he led forth his hosts to battle; and, as I am
of King Harald's blood, so will I seek to make myself a worthy man
of war."

Thereupon King Valdemar led the boy away, and for a long while
they sat together, making their plans of how Olaf's forces were to
invade the island and rescue Sigurd Erikson from the hands of the
rebel islanders.

On a certain calm summer evening Olaf Triggvison, mounted upon
a splendid white horse, and followed by some two score of picked
men-at-arms, rode into the little town wherein, four years before,
he had lived as a humble thrall. None knew him now for the same wild,
wilful boy whom they had been accustomed to see playing barefooted
upon the beach or tending his master's sheep upon the hillside. Even
Reas the bonder himself, who had many a time flogged him for his
disobedience and idleness, and who now watched him riding downward
to the ships, did not recognize his former bondslave in the handsome
and gaily attired young warrior. The people spoke among themselves
of Olaf's beautiful fair hair, of his crested helmet of burnished
brass, of his red silk cloak that fluttered in the breeze, and
his glittering battleaxe that hung pendant from his saddle. They
admired his easy seat upon horseback, and, when he spoke, they
marvelled at the full richness of his voice. But none could say
that they had ever before set eyes upon him.

Out in the mid bay the king's six longships lay at anchor, with
their sails furled and their high gunwales set with shields from
prow to stern. The largest vessel had at her prow the towering
figure of a winged dragon ornamented with beaten gold. She was the
longest ship that Olaf had ever seen, and he counted that she was
fitted for twenty pairs of oars. Her hull was painted red and green
above the water, and the tent that covered her decks was made of
striped red and white cloth. As he stood gazing at her, with wonder
and admiration, a small boat came round from her further side, rowed
by six seamen and steered by a stalwart, red bearded warrior, whom
the young commander had once before seen at the king's court in
Holmgard. Jarl Asbiorn was his name. When the boat touched at the
wharf Asbiorn greeted Olaf very humbly and bade him step on board.
Olaf called Egbert to his side and together they were taken out to
the dragon ship and received with great honour by the six captains,
who each in turn took vows of submission and obedience to him.
Then, while the ships were being got ready for sea, Olaf was shown
into a large room under the poop and told that this was to be his
private cabin. Here he held counsel with his officers touching the
expedition they were now entering upon.

It was a proud moment for Olaf when, just at the sun's setting and
at his own word of command, the oars of the six ships were thrust
out from the bulwarks and the vessels began to move slowly out of
the bay.

The warlike spirit that had been lying quiet within him now filled
him with a strange new energy. The fresh sea air and the sense
of his own power seemed to have entered every vein in his body,
thrilling him with an eager desire for glory, which amounted almost
to a madness. As he trod his ship's deck the seamen and fighting
men watched him in wondering interest, and declared among themselves
that Balder himself could not have been more beautiful. At first
they thought that he was too young to be trusted with the sole
command of six great vessels of war, but very soon he showed them
that he was well able to do all that was expected of him; and there
was something in his voice, in the quick glance of his eyes, and in
his alertness that made them acknowledge him as one who was born
to be a leader of men. So they obeyed him in all things and yielded
to his will in such wise that he had no trouble of any sort.

Before this time he had had no experience in the working of a ship;
so in the early part of the voyage he gave his mind to the learning
of all matters wherein he knew himself to be most ignorant. He
watched the setting of the sails and asked many questions concerning
them, until he could understand why at any time a certain rope was
hauled or loosened, and why when the wind blew strong a reef was
taken in. Always he took great interest in the working of the oars.
There were in his own ship four score of rowing men--two at each
oar--and as he watched them he marvelled how they could endure
the hard labour without breaking their backs or tearing out their
arms; and to prove to himself what amount of strength the work
required he went down into the ship's waist and, taking off his
shirt of chain mail, took his turn upon one of the benches, thus
winning the praise of all on board. But most of all he loved to take
the tiller in his hand and steer the vessel through the dangers of
the wind swept sea.

On the evening of the third day the ships came within sight of
the island of Dago, and the young commander bade his men get ready
their weapons lest the islanders should offer resistance. During
the night he brought his fleet to an anchorage under a small holm,
whose high cliffs sheltered the ships from the view of the larger
island. Then launching a small boat and disguising himself in a
rough seaman's cloak, he took Egbert and four of the men with him
and they rowed across the channel and made a landing.

Olaf questioned a shepherd whom he met on the upland pastures, and
from him learned that Rand the Strong was still recognized among
the islanders as their king and that the power of King Valdemar was
broken. So Olaf returned to the ships and brought them round into
a wide bay, upon whose shores the town was built.

Not long was Rand the Strong in mustering his little army of vikings,
for he had seen the six ships approaching; he knew them to be the
ships of King Valdemar, and quickly guessed with what intent they
had come.

At sight of the islanders massed in battle array upon the beach
Olaf bade his rowers draw yet nearer into the shallows. Then the war
horns were sounded on both sides, the warriors set their arrows to
the bowstring and a fierce fight began. More than once the islanders
retreated before the heavy rain of arrows and stones, but again
and again they rallied and assailed the ships. Many of the vikings
rushed into the water and swam outward to the ships, but before they
could climb the bulwarks and set foot upon the decks they were cut
down by Olaf's swordsmen or slain, even as they swam, by arrow or
spear.

Olaf himself stood at the prow of his dragon ship, surrounded by
his berserks, whose shields protected him, and coolly he drew arrow
after arrow from his sheath and sent it with unerring aim into
the midst of the islanders. Stones and arrows fell about him in a
constant rain, crashing upon his helmet and breaking against the
close-knit rings of his coat of mail. At last he singled out the
tall figure of Rand the Strong, who, rallying his vikings, led them
nearer to the water's edge. Olaf chose one of his best arrows and
fixed it to his bowstring, then bent his bow with the full strength
of his arms, aiming very steadily. The bowstring twanged and the
arrow flew whizzing through the air. Olaf watched its quick flight
and followed it until it struck its intended mark and stood quivering
in the bare part of the viking's throat. Rand staggered and fell.
Then the islanders, seeing that their chief was slain, drew back
once more to the higher beach, while Olaf brought his ships yet
closer into the shallows and ordered his forces to land. With his
sword in hand he led his men to the attack. There was a sharp hand
to hand fight, in which many were killed on both sides; but at last
the islanders gave way before the invaders and Olaf got the victory.

So, when the fight was at an end, Olaf called the chief rebels
before him and forced them to acknowledge King Valdemar as their
rightful and sole sovereign. When peace was restored he demanded
that Sigurd Erikson and those who had been of his following should
be set at liberty. Among the first who were freed from the prison
in Rand's stronghold was Thorgils Thoralfson. But Sigurd Erikson
was found dead in his cell. The islanders declared that he had died
of his wounds, but Olaf believed that hunger and hardship were the
cause of it.

Greatly did Olaf Triggvison grieve over the loss of his uncle.
Sigurd had been as a father to him, had lifted him up out of his
sordid life of thraldom and raised him to his present high position
in the favour of the court. And now he was dead and there was an
end of all his loving kindness.

For the rest of that day Olaf was engaged in the burial of the
brave islanders and vikings who had fallen in the battle, and he
had a mound built over them and raised stones above them to mark
the place. But at night he had Sigurd Erikson's body carried down
to the beach with all the other men who had been of King Valdemar's
host. One of the smaller ships was then brought in to the beach,
and a pyre of tarred wood and dry peat was built upon its upper
deck. Olaf placed the dead body of his uncle upon the pyre, with
all the armour that Sigurd had worn. The ship was further loaded
with the dead men and with weapons. Then, when the tide had risen
and the vessel was afloat with her sail hoisted, Olaf went on board
alone with a lighted torch and kindled the pyre. The wind blew off
shore and the ship sailed slowly out upon the dark sea. There was
a loud crackling of dry twigs and the flames rose amid a cloud of
black smoke, showing Olaf standing at the stern with the tiller in
his hand. Very soon the fire caught the logs of tarred wood, and
when the pyre was all aglow and the heat became too great for him
to bear, he fixed the steering board with the end of a rope, gave
a farewell look at the prostrate body of his uncle, and then stepping
to the rail threw himself overboard into the sea and swam back to
the land. When he got his feet upon the rocks he climbed up to a
grassy knoll and sat there watching the burning ship. The leaping
flames lit up the sky and cast a long track of light upon the
rippled sea. Presently both sail and mast fell over with a crash,
and a cloud of fiery sparks rose high into the black night. Still
Olaf sat watching; nor did he move away until at last the ship had
burned down to the water's edge, and there was no more to be seen
but a tiny gleam of light shining far out upon the dark and silent
waves.

On the next morning, having ended this work of quelling the rebel
islanders, Olaf led his fleet out of the bay and set forth on his
return to the mainland. In three days' time he was once more in
Holmgard. There he remained for two other years, enjoying great
favour in the court and performing many important services. He
sustained a great company of men-at-arms at his own cost from the
wealth that he had inherited from his Uncle Sigurd, and from such
riches as the king bestowed upon him; and the leading of this host
throve so well in his hands that all the younger men of the realm
flocked to his side, eager to be enlisted in his service.

Now it befell--as oft it must when outland men win fame and power
beyond those of the land--that many folks envied Olaf the great
love he had of the king, and of the queen no less. His bravery and
his great success in all that he undertook brought him many secret
enemies, who whispered all sorts of evil whispers to King Valdemar.
They declared that Olaf was but increasing his influence and power
so that in the end he might do some hurt to the king and to the
realm. They slandered him and spoke all manner of evil against him,
representing him as a dangerous rival to Valdemar in the affections
of both the queen and the people. So the king, hearing these false
charges and believing them, began to look coldly upon young Olaf
and to treat him roughly. Olaf then knew that it was time for him
to be going, for that confidence once lost could never be wholly
restored. So he went to King Valdemar and spoke with him, saying
that as he was now grown tall and strong he was minded to travel
and to see the land wherein his ancestors had ruled and his own
father had been sovereign.

Little sorrow did the jealous Valdemar show at hearing of this
resolve. And to hasten Olaf's departure he gave him great gifts of
well wrought weapons--a splendid sword inlaid with gold on the
blade and set in the hilt with dear bought gems, and a shield of
embossed brass. Also he furnished him with a dragonship and four
longships, ready manned and equipped for the sea, and bade him go
a-roving wheresoever he willed in search of adventure and worldly
furtherance.

Queen Allogia, however, was very sad at thought of thus losing her
favourite, and it was long ere she would make up her mind to let
Olaf leave her. But in the end she saw that it was for his own
good and advancement that he should go; so she gave him a beautiful
banner of silken embroidery that she had worked with her own hands,
told him that he would be accounted a noble and brave man wheresoever
he should chance to be, and then bade him a last farewell.



CHAPTER VIII: THE YOUNG VIKINGS.


So Olaf quitted Holmgard and went on shipboard, and stood out with
his viking fleet into the Baltic Sea. He now owed no allegiance
to any man, but was free to journey where he pleased, a king upon
his own decks. At this time he was scarcely eighteen summers old;
but his limbs were so well knit and strong, and he was withal so
tall and manly, that he seemed already to have attained to man's
estate. Yet, feeling that his youth might be against him, he had
chosen that all his ship companions should be as near as possible
to his own age. He had a score or so of bearded berserks on each of
his ships--men who feared neither fire nor steel, but who gloried
in warfare, and loved nothing better than to be in the midst of a
great battle. These indeed were full aged men; but for the rest, his
crew of seamen and his band of trained men- at-arms was comprised
of youths, none of whom were older than Thorgils Thoralfson, or
younger than Olaf himself.

Olaf made his foster brother the chief in command under himself,
giving him power over both seamen and warriors. He made his friend
Egbert the sailing master, while one Kolbiorn Stallare became his
master-of-arms.

Kolbiorn was the son of a powerful viking of Sognfiord in Norway.
He was of an age with Olaf Triggvison, and so much did the two
resemble one the other that, when apart, they were often taken to
be brothers. Both had the long fair hair and the blue eyes of the
Norseland, both were of nearly equal height; and it was Kolbiorn's
habit to strive, by wearing similar clothing, to increase the
likeness between himself and his young master. But when the two
were side by side the resemblance ceased, for then Olaf was seen
to be both the taller and the more muscular; his hair was seen to
be more golden and silken, his skin more purely fair; his eyes,
too, were brighter and larger than those of Kolbiorn, and his teeth
more even and white. So, too, when it came to a test of skill, Olaf
had ever the advantage, notwithstanding that Kolbiorn had spent
all his young days on shipboard, had been taught by the vikings to
perform all manner of feats, and had taken part in many battles on
both land and sea.

On a certain calm morning, very soon after Olaf had set out on
this his first viking cruise, he stood with Kolbiorn at the ship's
rail, looking out over the sunlit sea as his vessel crept along
propelled by her forty long, sweeping oars, and followed by his
four longships.

"I think," said he, "that we will amuse ourselves today, and try
our skill in some new game."

"I am very unfit to try my skill against yours," returned Kolbiorn
modestly, "for you have already beaten me at chess, at swimming,
at shooting, and at throwing the spear. Nevertheless, it shall be
as you wish."

"Choose, then, what feat we are to perform," said Olaf; "I am willing
to join in any exercise that you may know, and I do not doubt that
there are many in which your skill must be greater than mine."

"There is one," said Kolbiorn, "that I would be glad to see you
attempt, although there is danger in it, and I may be doing wrong
in suggesting it."

"If it be new to me, then I shall be all the more pleased," said
Olaf; "and none the less so though the risk be great."

Kolbiorn drew the young commander across to the shady side of the
ship.

"It is that we shall climb over the bulwarks," said he, "and walk
outboard along the oars while the men are rowing."

Olaf looked over the side, and for a few moments watched the regular
motion of the oars as they dipped into the green water and rose
dripping into the air. He measured with his eye the space between
each of the twenty blades.

"It seems not so difficult as I had hoped," he said, "but let me
see you do it, and then I will follow."

Kolbiorn climbed over the ship's quarter, and worked his way forward
to the first rower's bench. Steadying himself for a moment as he
hung by one arm from the gunwale, he dropped with his two feet upon
the aftermost oar, and stepped out thence from oar to oar until he
reached the one nearest to the forecastle. Then, still balancing
himself with outstretched arms, he turned and walked aft by the
same way to where Olaf and many of the ship's company had stood
watching him. All thought it a very wonderful feat.

Olaf praised Kolbiorn's skill, but promptly prepared to follow his
example. Throwing off his red silk cloak, lest, by falling into
the sea, he should injure it, he climbed overboard, and without
hesitation dropped down upon the square shank of the aftermost
oar; then going out near to the blade, he ran forward with quick,
well measured strides. Once or twice, as the oars were dipped, he
faltered and nearly lost his balance, but he reached the foremost
one without accident, and returned with greater ease. When he again
stepped upon the deck he appealed to Thorgils Thoralfson to decide
which had shown the more skill. But Thorgils was unable to determine
the matter.

"The game has not yet had sufficient trial," said Olaf; "it must
be gone through once more. But this time I will myself take the
lead, and let Kolbiorn or any other of our company follow."

Then he asked Thorgils and Kolbiorn to lend him their handsaxes,
and taking his own from his belt he again climbed over the side, and
walking along the row of moving oars played with the three dirks,
throwing them in turn up into the air, so that one was ever aloft
and one hilt ever in his hand. Thus he played as he strode forward,
without once dropping one of the weapons, and without once missing
his sure footing. Climbing over the forecastle deck he then returned
along the oars on the other side, and reached the deck with dry
shoes.

No one on board could understand how Olaf had done this surprising
feat without having practised it many times before, and when he
gave back the two dirks to their owners, Kolbiorn stood before him
and looked at him in silence.

Olaf said: "Why do you stand thus and not try after me?"

"Because I own myself beaten," answered Kolbiorn. "And yet," he
added, "I cannot believe that you did this feat by your skill alone
and without some secret power. Either you have the favour of Odin
to aid you, or else you are descended from some mighty king whose
natural skill you have inherited. Marvellous does it seem to me
that whatsoever exercise you attempt, in that you are certain to
surpass all other men."

Olaf laughed lightly and turned away towards his cabin, while his
ship fellows continued to talk among themselves of this new example
of his great agility.

Thus, even at the beginning of his free life as a sea rover, he
had made upon his companions so deep an impression that they one
and all respected him, and openly acknowledged him their superior
in all things.

But most of all, they wondered of what kin he had been born that
he should so easily and with such little effort excel all men they
had known. For although they well knew that he had been a favourite
at the court of King Valdemar, yet none even guessed at the truth
that he was a blood descendant of the great Harald Fairhair; and
less still did any imagine that he was even now heir to the throne
of Norway. None but Thorgils Thoralfson knew his true name. At this
time, and indeed throughout the whole course of his after adventures
in Britain, he was known only as Ole the Esthonian.

Now although Olaf had spoken of his wish to return to the land of
his fathers, yet now that he was upon his own dragonship, and free
to follow where fortune should lead him, he showed no haste to make
a landing in Norway. He bent his course across the Gulf of Finland,
and then westward among the many green islands and rocky holms that
lie in the mid sea between Finland and Sweden, and for many sunny
days and calm starry nights simply enjoyed the idle pleasures of
his new life of freedom.

It was the summer season, when all the channels of the sea were
clear of ice, and there were many trading ships abroad which might
have been an easy prey had Olaf so chosen to fall upon them. But
although he was a viking, and had all the viking's lust for war and
plunder, he yet remembered the time when his own mother had been
taken by Jarl Klerkon and sold into bondage. So he determined to
let all peaceful merchant ships alone, and to join battle only with
such vessels as were intent upon warfare. In token of this resolve
he had the great dragon's head lowered from his prow, so that its
wide open jaws and terrible aspect might not strike fear into the
hearts of the peaceable traders; and the shields that were ranged
along his outer bulwarks were peace shields, painted white, as
showing that he meant no harm to those who might chance to meet
him on the seas.

His berserks, and many of the young men who had joined his fellowship
in the hope of gain, grumbled sometimes when they saw him allow
some richly laden ship to go by without attacking her, and they
declared that after all he was a viking only in name. Olaf bade
them wait in patience, reminding them that there was no lack of
good food and well brewed ale on board, and that they had no need
to feel discontent so long as their daily life was passed in bodily
comfort.

"And as to fighting," he added, "I cannot think that any of you
would take pleasure in drawing arms against men who have not been
trained in warfare."

Not long did they need to wait ere their instinct for fighting was
in part satisfied.

One gloomy forenoon his ships with their sails full set were speeding
before a strong wind through the wide channel of sea dividing the
two large islands of Gottland and Eyland. Thorgils was at the tiller
of the dragon ship--a post which, in the viking times, was always
held by the chief man on deck. As he stood there, his eyes swept
the wide stretch of the grey sea in search of ships; for Olaf
Triggvison had now put his red war shields out on the bulwarks,
and the winged dragon reared its great gilded head at the prow, as
if in menace. Olaf himself was below in his cabin under the poop,
watching a game of chess that Kolbiorn and Egbert were playing.

The chessboard was a very beautiful one, its squares being of inlaid
silver and gold, with little pegs in the centre of each space upon
which the pieces might be fixed, and so prevented from being upset
or from changing place when the vessel rolled. It was accounted
a great privilege by Olaf's companions to be allowed to play upon
this costly board, and Olaf had made it a condition that all who
used it must do so without dispute. For a long time Kolbiorn and
Egbert went on peaceably with their game. But while Olaf watched
them, he noticed that Egbert became more and more ruffled, as he
found himself being constantly baffled by his opponent's better
play. So great was Kolbiorn's skill that Egbert at length became
desperate, and only made matters worse by his hasty moves. He wanted
to move back a knight which he had exposed, but Kolbiorn would not
allow it. Olaf advised them to leave the knight where it now stood,
and not to quarrel. At this Egbert's anger grew hot, and declaring
that he would not take Olaf's advice, he swept his hand over the
board, upset the pieces upon the cabin floor, and leaning forward
struck Kolbiorn a blow upon the ear, so that blood flowed.

Kolbiorn rose from his seat and quietly turned towards the door.
There he was met by one of his shipmates, who called out in an
excited voice that there was a large viking ship in sight, and that
she was bearing down towards them as though to give battle.

Olaf followed Kolbiorn from the cabin, and together they mounted
to the deck. Looking out across the sea they saw the viking ship
rowing towards them against the wind. In her wake there was a second
vessel, drifting helpless and untended, with her sail flapping
wildly in the wind and her oars all inboard. Olaf quickly noticed
that there were people on her forward deck, and that she was slowly
sinking. It was evident to him that she was a trading ship, which
the vikings had but newly attacked and plundered. For a moment he
hesitated, wondering whether he should hasten to her rescue or at
once enter in battle with the vikings. He saw that his men were
already eagerly preparing for a fight. Some, according to their
custom before a battle, were busily washing themselves and combing
their hair, while others were eating and drinking. There was no
need for them to make ready their weapons, for these had been kept
well prepared ever since the beginning of the cruise, and there
was nothing further to be done than to bring the arrows up on deck
and serve them round among the bowmen, twenty arrows to each man's
quiver; and as for swords, spears, and armour, every man on board
knew well where to put his hand on his own.

Bidding Kolbiorn go forward to the forecastle and marshal his
berserks and bowmen, Olaf took down his war horn and blew a loud
blast as challenge. At the same moment a red painted shield was
hoisted to the yardarm. Then he went aft and took the tiller from
Thorgils, and steered his bark as though to meet the approaching
foe. But when he got within arrow shot of the stranger he suddenly
altered his course, crossing her bows. The vikings, who could not
yet have noticed the four consort ships that were still far behind,
no doubt thought that he meant to make his escape, and they bore
round in pursuit of him. But now Olaf had managed to get his vessel
between the two other ships, and, having the wind in his sail and
his oars at work, he quickly outdistanced the viking, and sped
along at a great rate towards the sinking trading ship.  Not too
soon was he in getting alongside of her, for the vikings had scuttled
her, and she had already settled down with her quarter bulwarks on
a level with the water's edge. He rescued a full score of helpless
men from her decks, and stood by her until she went down. By this
time the viking ship had again come within bow shot of him, and
his four longships had appeared in sight from behind the headland
of one of the islands.

Olaf had now his sail brailed up to the yard, and his vessel's
prow turned towards the oncoming enemy. Having resigned the helm
to the charge of one of his seamen, he donned his war armour and
went forward to the prow. Here the strongest and most experienced
of his men were stationed as stem defenders, armed with swords and
spears, and protected by their shields. Among them stood Olaf's
standard bearer, round whom they were ranged in battle order. The
station abaft that occupied by the stem defenders was manned by
the berserks, and behind the mast were the spearmen, archers, and
stone slingers.

Olaf and Kolbiorn, who were both armed with their longbows and a
large number of picked arrows, as well as their swords, stood side
by side by the banner bearer. Olaf again blew his war horn, while
Kolbiorn fired an arrow of challenge high over the mast of the viking
ship. When the two vessels drew near, Olaf saw that the stranger's
forward decks were crowded, with fighting men, whom, by their
dark hair and brown skin, he rightly judged to be Danes. The ships
crashed together stem to stem, and then grappling hooks were thrown
out from either side, and the vessels were bound close together,
so that neither might escape until the fighting was at an end.

Thus at close quarters the battle began, and very soon the air
was thick with swift flying arrows, and with showers of spears
and stones. The chiefs on either side shouted aloud, urging their
fellows to the fray, and many a well tried warrior was sent that
day to Odin's halls. For a long while it seemed that the Danes
were getting the upper hand, for they greatly outnumbered the men
on Olaf's dragonship. But as the fight grew fiercer Olaf's berserks
worked themselves to a wild fury, and, led by Olaf and Kolbiorn,
they made a rush upon the enemy's forecastle, carrying all before
them as an autumn wind carries the withered leaves. For three long
hours the battle continued, man to man; but at last Olaf got the
victory, and took the Dane ship as his prize, with all the treasure
and costly armour, all the slaves and stores on board of her. His
four longships had not joined in the contest, because it was always
considered unfair to oppose an adversary with unequal force. But
now they were brought nearer, and when all the wreckage of the
fight was cleared away he placed some of his own men on board the
prize, divided the spoil among all his fellowship, and once more
sailed off, well satisfied with his first success.

Southward he sailed down the Swedish coast, and met with adventures
too many to be told. And at length he made for Borgund holm,
an island that lies out in the Baltic to the south of Sweden. By
this time his stores had run short, so he fell upon the island and
harried there. The landsmen came in great force and waged battle
against him; but Olaf again won the victory, and got great plunder
of horses and cattle.

He lay by Borgund holm for many weeks, with his tents ranged in
order along a stretch of the beach, and his ships drawn up to the
high water mark. Every day his men held sports, and at night they
all sat in their tents drinking and throwing dice, or listening to
the sagamen's stories of the great deeds of byegone warriors. Olaf
himself joined always in their feasts and revels, and he was ever
the merriest and gamesomest in the company.

One day while his ships were still at Borgund holm, his two
chief men, Kolbiorn and Thorgils, were boasting of their skill at
climbing. They contended as to who could climb the steepest rock,
and at last they made a bet. Kolbiorn wagered his gold neck ring
against Thorgils' best bronze drinking horn. After this they both
climbed the high cliff. Thorgils went so far that he was in danger
of falling down, and he returned in fear, saving himself with
difficulty. Kolbiorn climbed up to the middle of the precipice;
but there he dared go neither forward nor backward, nor even move,
for he had no hold upon the rock for either feet or hands. His
position was so perilous that he foresaw certain death if he should
make the least movement. He shouted in great fear for Olaf or his
men to rescue him. Olaf called some brave man to venture the deed
and offered a large reward; but not one of his company stirred.
Then Olaf threw off his cloak and ran up the face of the rock as
though it had been a level plain, took Kolbiorn under his arms,
and went farther up with him. He then turned to descend with the
man under his arm and laid him unharmed on the ground. All praised
this as a great feat, and the fame of it was widely spread. Long
afterwards he performed the similar feat of climbing to the topmost
peak of the mountain called Smalsarhorn, in Norway, and there
suspending his shining shield upon the summit, so that it shone
like a sun across the sea.

Many tales are told of his strength and agility--of how he
could smite alike with either hand, of how he could shoot with two
spears at once. It is said that he could jump higher than his own
height both backwards and forwards, and this with his weapons and
complete armour on. He was the swiftest and strongest swimmer in
all Scandinavia, and at running and climbing no man was his equal.

And yet he was no boaster. His great deeds came of his eagerness
in all matters, and not from a desire to belittle his companions.
He was kind and lowly hearted, bountiful of gifts, very glorious
of attire, and before all men for high heart in battle. It may be
that he also was cruel, for it is told that he was stern and wrathful
with all who offended him, and that in punishing his enemies he
knew no mercy. He, however, sought only to do all things that it
was customary for a viking to do. To win fame, to gain wealth, to
plunder, and to slay--these were the passions that ruled him. The
ocean was his only home. He derided the comforts of a warm fireside
and scorned the man who should sleep under a sooty rafter or die
on a bed of straw. To give up his last breath amid the clamour of
battle was his one unalterable ambition; for only those who died
thus, besprinkled with blood, could ever hope to win favour of the
pagan gods, or to enter the sacred halls of Valhalla. In the spirit
of his times he believed that the viking life was the noblest and
most honourable that a man could follow; he believed that the truest
title to all property was given by winning it with the sword, and
very soon he became as wild and reckless as any sea rover on the
Baltic. No danger, howsoever great, had power to daunt him, or to
lessen his joy in the fresh freedom of the open sea with its wild
hoarse winds and its surging perilous storms.

It was in the autumntide that Olaf encountered the first serious
storm. By this time he had added to his fleet many vessels which
he had captured in battle, and some that he had had built by his
shipwrights; and he bethought him that he would now sail out of the
Baltic Sea and make his way round to the coasts of Norway, where,
with his great force of men and ships behind him, he might surely
hope to win the glory that he coveted. He had kept his favourite
companions and his chosen warriors on board his dragonship, so that
they might ever be near him in case of need. But Egbert of Britain
and Kolbiorn Stallare, after their quarrel over the game of chess,
had not been friendly towards each other, so Egbert was placed in
command over one of the other vessels of the fleet--a Longship
named the Snake.

On a certain day the ships were making westward under easy sail
when the storm burst suddenly upon them, with a bitter cold wind
from the north that quickly whipped the sea into great towering
waves. The hail and sleet fell so heavily that the men in the bow
of each ship were hidden from those in the stern, and the seas broke
over the bulwarks, deluging the decks and cabins, so that the men
in the baling room were kept constantly at work with their scoops
and buckets. All cried upon Njord, the sea god, and upon Thor and
Odin no less, to save them out of their peril; but the raging storm
continued throughout the night and the whole of the next day, and
all the time Olaf stood at the helm, bravely facing the tempest and
keeping his vessel's prow pointing northward to meet the towering
waves. Often it seemed that he would be swept overboard by the
wild rush of water, but his great strength endured the strain, and
though nearly blinded by the pelting hail he still held on.

With the evening of the second day the wind's force abated, and
the heavy clouds that had darkened the sky melted away in a glow
of sunset gold. Then Olaf looked around upon the wide turbulent
sea and counted his ships. Some had lost their masts, and others
had been swept far away towards the dim horizon. One of them alone
was missing: it was the longship of Egbert of Britain. Olaf had
little doubt that she had foundered with all on board, and yet he
knew that Egbert was a brave and skilful seaman, and he thought
it strange that he should have failed to weather the storm, so,
finding no other explanation, he declared that it was because Egbert
was a Christian that this disaster had happened. Had he been a true
believer in the mighty gods of the northmen, said Olaf, he would
surely have surmounted all dangers, and his ship and crew had been
saved! And all who heard them regarded the young chief's words as
words of wisdom, for they did not know, and neither did Olaf himself
at that moment dream, that Egbert and his ship's company were safe
and sound in the shelter of the high headland of Borgund holm. Not
for many years thereafter did Olaf and Egbert again meet, and when
they did so, it was face to face as foemen on the battle plain of
Maldon, in far off England.

When the storm had spent its force, and the sea was calm, Olaf
brought his ships together, made the needful repairs, and led the
way southward to the shores of Wendland. There he got good haven
and, faring full peacefully, abode there throughout the winter
months.



CHAPTER IX: THE VIKINGS OF JOMSBURG.


Burislaf was the name of the king in Wendland. He was a very wealthy
monarch and held in high esteem throughout the countries of the
Baltic, and his court was the frequent meeting place of the great
men of that time. Now Burislaf had three very beautiful daughters
-- Geira, Gunnhild, and Astrid--whom many noble and kingly men
sought vainly to win in marriage. Geira, the eldest of the three,
held rule and dominion in the land, for it was much the wont of
mighty kings in those days that they should let the queen, or the
eldest daughter, have half the court to sustain it at her own cost
out of the revenues that came to her share. So when Geira heard that
alien folk were come into Wendland, with a great fleet of viking
ships, and that the chief of them was a young man of unusual prowess
and noble mien, she sent friendly messengers to the coast and bade
the newcomers be her guests that wintertide, for the summer was
now far spent, and the weather hard and stormy. And Olaf Triggvison
took her bidding, and went with his chosen captains to the court,
where he was well received and most hospitably entertained.

It is told that when Geira saw how kingly of aspect Olaf was, and
how handsome and courteous withal, she at once yearned for his
love and craved that he should wed with her and become a ruler in
the land. Many legends which have come down to us from that time
even state that she straightway fell a-wooing him, and that in the
end they were married, and ruled the realm side by side. But it is
not easy to believe that one who was heir to the throne of Norway
would be content to remain in Wendland at the bidding of a woman
he did not love, and it is to be remembered that Olaf was still
little more than a youth, while Geira was already well advanced in
years. Moreover, Olaf had at this same time met Thyra, the daughter
of the king of Denmark--a princess who was not only more beautiful,
but also much nearer his own age than Geira, and who afterwards
became his wife and queen. Howsoever it be, Olaf had lived but a
few months in Wendland when Geira was stricken with an illness and
died.

Among the guests of King Burislaf were two men who in the later
time had a large share in the shaping of Olaf's destiny, first as
his friends, and afterwards as his enemies. Their names were Earl
Sigvaldi of Jomsburg and Sweyn of Denmark.

Earl Sigvaldi was the son of Strut-Harald, sometime King of Skaney,
and at the time of his meeting with Olaf in Wendland he was lord
over the great company of vikings who had their stronghold in
Jomsburg. He was a very mighty man, and his wealth and personal
prowess were such that Burislaf's daughter Astrid encouraged his
wooing of her with the result that they were wedded.

Earl Sweyn was a younger man, the son of Harald Bluetooth, King
of Denmark. He had come into Wendland in the company of his friend
Sigvaldi, for they had both been a-warring together, and, being
beaten in a great sea fight, they had taken refuge in the court
of Burislaf. Their warring had been against Sweyn's own father,
King Harald. Sweyn had craved dominion in his father's realm, but
Harald Bluetooth preferred to retain his throne undivided. Then
Sweyn gathered warships together and got the help of the Jomsburg
vikings, and stood towards Zealand, where King Harald lay with his
fleet ready to fare to the wars against Norway. So Sweyn fell upon
his father's ships, and there was a great battle, in which Harald
Bluetooth got the victory, but also his death wound. Now the arrow
with which King Harald was killed was one bearing marks which showed
it to be of his own son's making, and Sweyn fled lest vengeance
should overtake him.

Now Sigvaldi, knowing that it would not be long ere the Danes
claimed Sweyn as their king, was anxious to assure a peace between
Wendland and Denmark, and with this purpose he had brought Sweyn
in his company to King Burislaf's court, and it was then arranged
that Sweyn should wed Gunnhild, daughter of Burislaf, and that
thereafter there should be peace between the two lands. So when the
wedding was over, King Sweyn fared home to Denmark with Gunnhild
his wife, and they became the parents of Canute the Mighty--the
same who in his manhood fought against Edmund Ironsides and reigned
as King of England.

In those days the Danes and their neighbours the Wends made great
threats of sailing with a host to Norway, and Olaf Triggvison
heard much talk of this threatened expedition from Earl Sigvaldi.
He learned, too, something of what had been taking place in his
native land since the time of the death of King Triggvi.

By their evil work Queen Gunnhild and the sons of Erik Bloodaxe
had, as they thought, put an end to the family of Harald Fairhair,
for they had lost all trace of Queen Astrid and her boy Olaf, and
none remained to dispute the throne of Norway. In the province of
Thrandheim, however, there reigned a certain Earl Sigurd, who yet
gave them great trouble. To rid themselves of all danger from him
they resorted to treachery. They had murdered King Triggvi and his
four brothers, and they had little scruple in employing the same
means towards Earl Sigurd, so they entrapped him and put him to
death. After this deed Harald Greyfell reigned as King of Norway
for five troublous and unfruitful years. By the slaying of Earl
Sigurd, however, the sons of Erik raised up against themselves
an enemy who proved more dangerous to them than any they had yet
encountered. This was Earl Hakon, the son of Sigurd, a most powerful
and sagacious warrior, whose one desire was to avenge his father's
death and drive the whole race of Erik Bloodaxe from the land. Nor
was he long in fulfilling his designs. By a daring intrigue, and
with help from Denmark, he succeeded not only in bringing King
Harald Greyfell to his bane, but also in winning his own way to the
throne of Norway. Queen Gunnhild and her two surviving sons then
fled over sea to the Orkneys, and that was the end of them.

Now, when Olaf heard these things and understood that Earl Hakon,
although not of royal birth or lineage, was still recognized as
the king in Norway, he resolved to join issue with the Danes and
Wends in their projected expedition, and he spoke with Earl Sigvaldi,
offering the support of all his ships and men. Well satisfied was
Sigvaldi at hearing this offer made, and he gladly accepted it,
for he had quickly discerned that Ole the Esthonian was a young
warrior whose help would be most valuable, even apart from the great
force of battleships and fighting men that were under his command.

So when the winter had passed by, and the sea was clear of ice,
Olaf had his ships refitted, mustered his men, and set sail along
the Wendland coast towards the island of Wollin, at the mouth of
the river Oder, upon which stood the great stronghold of Jomsburg.

Jomsburg had been founded and built by King Harald Bluetooth of
Denmark, who possessed a great earldom in Wendland. He had garrisoned
the place with vikings on the condition that they should defend the
land, and be always ready to support him in any warlike expedition.
There was a very fine harbour or dock made within the Burgh,
in which three hundred longships could lie at the same time, all
being locked within the strongly built walls of granite with their
massive gates of iron. The Jomsburg vikings were a well disciplined
company of pirates who made war their exclusive business, living by
rapine and plunder. Their firm belief in the heathen gods justified
them in following this mode of life, and often they fought for
mere fighting's sake. They were bound by very strict laws to obey
their chief. No man older than fifty or younger than eighteen
winters could be received into the fellowship; they were all to be
between these two ages. No man could join the band who was known
to have ever yielded in fight to an opponent his match in strength
of arms. Every member admitted swore by the hammer of Thor to revenge
all the rest as his brother. Slander was forbidden. No woman or
child was ever to be molested or carried away as captive, and all
the spoil or plunder of war was to be equally divided. One very
important law was that no member of the band was ever to utter
a word of fear or to flinch from pain, or to attempt to dress his
wounds until they had bled for four and twenty hours. Nothing could
occur within the Burgh over which the chief should not have full
power to rule as he liked. If any broke these rules he was to be
punished by instant expulsion from the community.

For two days after the time when Olaf's fleet anchored abreast of
the gates of Jomsburg, there was the work of inspecting all his
men and ships and arms. Some two score of the men were rejected
by Earl Sigvaldi, some because they were at enmity with certain
vikings who were already of the band, others because they had killed
some near kinsman of one of the members, and yet others who refused
to follow or obey any other chief than Olaf Triggvison alone. But
the ships and their equipment were all pronounced seaworthy and in
good condition; so, after the vows had been made, there was held a
great feast, and Olaf was chosen as a captain under Earl Sigvaldi,
holding the command of his own division of the Jomsburg fleet.

Now, during the summer months of that same year, Olaf went out upon
a viking cruise into the Gulf of Bothnia. On the coast of Jemptland
and Helsingialand he encountered many Swedish warships, cleared
them, and slew many men, and took all the wealth of them. It was his
habit to lie hidden behind some rocky promontory, or at the mouth
of some vik, or creek, and thence dart out upon his unsuspecting
prey; and he would thus creep along the coast from vik to vik,
harrying and plundering wheresoever he went. And in all his battles he
never received a wound or lost a ship, but always got the victory.
He was accounted the most favoured by the gods among all the vikings
of Jomsburg, and his renown spread far and wide.

When Olaf returned at the beginning of the winter to Jomsburg he
heard that Earl Sigvaldi's father, Strut-Harald of Skaney, had just
died. Now it was the custom in those days that a high born man,
before he could take possession of any inheritance left to him by
his father, should hold an arvel, or inheritance feast. King Sweyn
was at this time preparing to hold such a feast before taking
possession of the Danish kingdom, so it was arranged that Sweyn
and Sigvaldi should make one arvel serve for them both, and Sweyn
sent word to Sigvaldi inviting him with all his captains and chosen
warriors to join him in Zealand, and so arrange it that the greatest
possible honour should be done to the dead.

Sigvaldi accordingly left Jomsburg with a large host of his vikings
and two score of ships. Among his captains were Olaf Triggvison,
Kolbiorn Stallare, Bui the Thick of Borgund holm, Thorkel the High,
and Vagn Akison. It was winter time, and the seas were rough, but
the fleet passed through the Danish islands without disaster, and
came to an anchorage in a large bay near which now stands the city
of Copenhagen. King Sweyn welcomed Earl Sigvaldi and all his men
with great kindness.

The feast was held in a very large hall, specially built for the
reception of guests, and ornamented with splendid wood carvings and
hung about with peace shields and curtains of beautiful tapestry.
King Sweyn was dressed in very fine clothes of purple, with gold
rings on his arms and round his neck, and a band of burnished gold,
set with gems, upon his head. His beard, which was as yet but short,
was trimmed in a peculiar way--divided into two prongs--which
won for him the nickname of Sweyn Forkbeard. The tables were loaded
with cooked food and white bread; sufficient to serve all the
great company for three days. The ale and mead flowed abundantly,
and there was much good cheer in the hall. Many high born women were
present, and the guests sat in pairs, each man and woman together.
Olaf Triggvison had for his partner the Princess Thyra, sister of
the king.

In the midst of the feasting Thyra turned to Olaf and asked him
his true name.

"Men call me Ole the Esthonian," answered Olaf.

"I had known so much already," returned Thyra. "It is the same
name that you bore at the time we first met in Wendland. But when
I look at you, and see your silken hair and your fair skin, it
seems to me that you must be of kingly birth."

"It is not well always to judge by appearances," Olaf said with a
smile. And he drew down the gold ring from the thick part of his
bare left arm. Thyra's eyes rested upon his arm for a moment, and
she saw imprinted there the seared brand that showed him to have
been a slave; and from that moment she ceased to regard him with
personal interest.

It was the custom at such feasts as this that the high seat,
or throne, of the man whom the guests were met to do honour to,
should be left vacant until the memorial toast of the deceased, and
of the mightiest of their departed kinsmen, had been proposed. In
accordance with this custom King Sweyn stood up and drank the cup
of memory to his father. Then he stepped into the high seat, and
by this act took possession of his inheritance. The cup was filled
and emptied to the last drop by each man in turn.

The Jomsburg vikings drank eagerly on that first evening, and
ever as their drinking horns were emptied they were filled again,
brimming of the strongest. After it had gone on thus for a while,
King Sweyn saw that his guests were nearly all drunk.

"Here is great merriment," said he, rising and holding aloft
his silver drinking horn. "And I propose that we shall find a new
entertainment which will long hereafter be remembered."

Sigvaldi answered, "We think it most becoming and best for the
entertainment, that you, lord, should make the first proposal, for
we all have to obey you and follow your example."

Then the king laughed and said: "I know it has always been customary
at great feasts and meetings that all present should make vows
to perform great and valorous deeds, and I am willing to try that
now. For, as you, Jomsvikings, are far more famous than all other
men in this northern half of the world, so the vows you will make
here will be as much more renowned than others, as you are greater
than other men. And to set you an example, I will myself begin."

He filled his drinking horn to the brim and held it high, while
all waited eagerly and silently to hear what vow he should make.

"This it is," said he in a loud voice which those at the farthest
end of the hall could clearly hear. "I vow that I will, before the
third winter nights hereafter have passed, have driven King Ethelred
of England out of his realm, or else have slain him, and thus have
got his kingdom to myself!"

And so saying he quaffed his deep horn.

All wondered at this great vow, for not many had heard even the
name of King Ethelred.

"Now it is thy turn, Sigvaldi," cried Sweyn, wiping his wet lips
with the back of his hand, "and make no less a vow than mine."

Then the drink bearers bore to the vikings the biggest horns of the
strongest drink that was there, and Sigvaldi rose to his feet. He
first proposed the memory of his dead father, and before raising
the drink to his lips added this oath:

"I swear," said he, "that before three winters are worn away I will
sail over to Norway and slay Earl Hakon, or else drive him from
the land."

Now, this was the selfsame oath that Olaf Triggvison had resolved
to swear when it should come to his turn, and he was annoyed that
Earl Sigvaldi had, as it were, snatched it from his lips. He now
thought over what other vow he could make in its stead. But it
chanced that ere his turn came round all the company were either
asleep or so full of strong drink that they could not listen, so
in the end he made no vow whatsoever. Yet to the last he was as
sober as when he first entered the hall, and he remembered ever
afterwards the boastful oaths that had been made. Many of his fellow
vikings--as Thorkel the High, Bui the Thick, and Vagn Akison --
declared that they would but follow their chief to Norway, while
others of Sweyn's following in like manner vowed to accompany the
king to England; and once having made these promises, none dared
to go back from them.

On the morrow, when the vikings regained their senses, they thought
they had spoken big words enough, so they met and took counsel how
they should bring about this expedition against Earl Hakon, and
the end of it was that they determined to set about it as early
as might be. For the rest of that wintertide the men of Jomsburg
accordingly bestirred themselves in making preparations for the
journey. They fitted out their best warships and loaded them with
weapons, and their warriors were mustered to the number of eight
thousand well trained men, with eighty chosen battleships.

So, when the snows of that winter had melted in the vales and the
seas were clear of ice floes, Sigvaldi led his host north through
the Eyr Sound and lay for a time in Lyme Firth. There he divided
his forces, leaving twenty of Olaf Triggvison's longships in the
firth, so that they might perchance intercept Earl Hakon should he
escape the main fleet. This was an ill judged measure, but Sigvaldi
was not aware that the forces of Earl Hakon were vastly superior in
number to his own. Olaf's ships were left in the charge of Kolbiorn
Stallare, while Olaf himself went aboard the dragonship of Vagn
Akison.

Earl Sigvaldi then sailed out into the main with sixty ships, and
came to Agdir, in the south of Norway. And there he fell to pillaging
in the dominion of Earl Hakon.



CHAPTER X: THE BATTLE OF JOMSVIKINGS.


The rumour of the bold vows that the Jomsvikings had made spread
quickly throughout the land, and tidings of the great war gathering
soon reached Norway. Earl Erik Hakonson heard them in good time at
the place where he abode in Raum realm, and he straightway gathered
his folk about him and fared to the Uplands, and so north over the
fells to Thrandheim to meet Earl Hakon, his father. Now Earl Hakon
greatly feared the vikings of Jomsburg, and on hearing this news
he sent abroad the war arrow all about the Thrandheim country, and
to Mere and Raumsdale, north also into Naumdale and Halogaland; and
in answer to this summons there assembled a vast fleet of warships
to the number of one hundred and eighty keels, and a force amounting
to eleven thousand men. So many vessels and warriors had never
before been seen together in the fiords.

Now there was a man named Giermund who was out sailing in a fishing
skiff among the Her isles. He fared north to Mere, and there he
fell in with Earl Hakon, and told the earl tidings of a host that
had come to the land from Denmark.

"How can I know that what you tell is true?" asked the earl. "And
what token have you to show?"

Giermund drew forth his right arm with the hand smitten off at the
wrist.

"By this token may you know that these ships have come," said he.

Then Earl Hakon questioned the man closely concerning this new come
enemy, and Giermund told him that the men were vikings of Jomsburg,
and that they had slain many people of the land, and had robbed
far and wide.

"Swiftly northward are they coming," said he, "and full eagerly,
and no long time will wear by ere they are come upon you."

So thereupon the earl rowed through the firths with his fleet to
meet his foes.

The Jomsvikings had sailed northward along the coast, plundering
and ravaging wherever they landed. They made great coast raids,
and often burned towns and hamlets. They were lying in Ulfasound,
off Stad, when they and Hakon Jarl heard of each other. They were
in want of food at this time, and Vagn Akison and Olaf Triggvison
went on their skiff to the island of Hoed, not knowing that the
earl lay in the bay near the island. Vagn and Olaf landed with their
men, wishing to make a shore raid if they could, and they happened
to meet a shepherd driving three cows and twelve goats.

Vagn cried to his men: "Take the cows and goats and slaughter them
for our ships."

The shepherd asked: "Who commands the men on board your ship?"

"Vagn Akison, of Jomsburg," was the answer.

"I think then, that there are not very far from you bigger cattle
for slaughter than my poor cows and goats," said the shepherd.

Vagn did not understand his meaning. But Olaf Triggvison looked at
the man with quick apprehension, and said:

"If you know anything about the journey of Hakon Jarl, tell us at
once. And if you can truthfully tell us where he is, then your cows
and goats are safe."

The shepherd did not speak for many moments, but at last he answered
calmly: "Jarl Hakon lay yesternight with one or two ships under
shelter of the island of Hoed, and you can slay him when you like,
for he is still anchored in the bay waiting for his men."

"Then your cattle are safe," rejoined Vagn. "And you shall have a
good reward if you will come aboard our ship and show us the way
into the bay."

Ulf--for such was the shepherd's name--went on board the skiff
early in the day, and Vagn Akison, as quickly as he could, returned
to the Jomsburg fleet and told the news, which spread speedily
round the ships. Earl Sigvaldi at once weighed anchor and rowed out
north of the island, giving word meanwhile to his vikings to make
ready for battle.

Greatly did Olaf Triggvison rejoice at this immediate prospect of
attacking and vanquishing the proud man who had for sixteen years
held sovereign sway in Norway. If, as Ulf the shepherd had reported,
Earl Hakon had but one or two ships, then it would be a very easy
matter for the Jomsburgers to vanquish him, and who could tell
what glorious results might not follow? Despite the fact that he
was not himself the leader of this present expedition, Olaf was
confident that the expected victory must bring about the furtherance
of his own personal plans. It might indeed be that Earl Sigvaldi,
on proving himself the easy conqueror, would attempt to place himself
in possession of the realm, and to assume the name and dignity of
King of Norway. But Olaf, ever hopeful and buoyant, trusted that
with very little trouble on his own part, he could readily prove
to the people that he, the direct descendant of Harald Fairhair,
had claims of which neither Sigvaldi nor even the great Earl Hakon
could justly boast.

In his passage with the viking ships up the coast of western Norway,
Olaf had looked for the first time upon the wild splendour of the
fiords, with their deep blue reaches of the sea penetrating far
inland between steep precipices braided with sparkling waterfalls.
He had seen the giant mountains rising high into the sky, with
their rugged summits capped with snow and their lower slopes covered
with vast forests of tall pine trees. Often some fertile valley had
opened out before him, with verdant pastures and narrow strips of
arable land. This was the country over which King Harald Fairhair
had ruled, and now, for the first time, Olaf had realized the greatness
of his heritage. He determined to fight boldly and fearlessly in
this coming battle, so that he might thus win his way nearer to the
possession of his birthright and the goal of his growing ambitions.

He had been placed in command of one of the largest dragonships,
and while the fleet was sailing round the island--his own vessel
being side by side with that of Vagn Akison--he went below and
dressed himself in his strongest armour, and took up his heavy
battleaxe and the well tempered sword that King Valdemar had given
him. The weather was bright and warm, and he wore no cloak, but
only his closely knit coat of chain mail, with his brass helmet,
crested with a winged dragon, and his bossed shield. His long fair
hair that fell down over his broad shoulders, his finely marked
features, his beautiful blue eyes and clear ruddy complexion were
on this day more evident than ever before; and his firm muscular
limbs and stalwart figure distinguished him as the noblest and
handsomest man in all the company of the vikings.

When he returned on deck he went at once to his post at the tiller
and looked out over the blue sunlit sea. A lusty cry rose at this
instant from the prow of Sigvaldi's dragonship. The fleet was now
abreast of a low lying point of land at the inner coast of Hoed Isle,
and it was now seen that the wide bay beyond was crowded all over
with vessels of war. Ulf the shepherd had betrayed the vikings into
the hands of their awaiting foe. When his treachery was discovered
he ran to the rail of Vagn Akison's ship and leapt overboard,
intending to swim to the shore without waiting for his reward. Vagn
threw a spear at him, but missed his aim. Olaf Triggvison, who saw
the shepherd swimming astern, caught up a spear with his left hand
and flung it at him. It hit him in the middle and killed him.

The Jomsvikings rowed with their sixty ships into the great bay.
They were formed into three divisions, and Earl Sigvaldi laid his
flagship in the centre of the line of battle. To the north of him
he arrayed twenty ships under the command of Bui the Thick and Sigurd
Kapa, while Vagn Akison and Olaf Triggvison held the southern wing.

Earl Hakon determined which of his captains should fight against
these champions. It was customary in such battles for ship to fight
against ship and man against man; but in most cases Hakon, whose
forces greatly outnumbered those of his enemies, placed three of his
longships against one of the vikings'. He himself was not matched
against any one, but had to support the whole line and command
it. His son Sweyn held the chief position in the centre of battle,
facing the leader of the vikings. Against the division of Bui was
placed a great Norwegian warrior named Thorkel Leira. The wing
held by Vagn Akison and Olaf Triggvison was opposed by Earl Hakon's
eldest son, Erik. Each chief had his own banner in the shield burg
at his prow.

War horns were sounded, arrows of challenge were fired over the
opposing fleets, the berserks on either side clashed their arms
and bit the rims of their shields, working themselves into a wild
war fury. Then the fleets closed in upon each other amid a storm
of arrows, and the grim battle began.

The ships of the vikings were higher in the hull than those of the
Norwegians, and this gave them an advantage, for, when the grapplings
were thrown out and the ships were lashed together, the Jomsburgers
could fire their arrows and spears down upon the heads of their
foes. The onset and attack were faultlessly made, and for a long
while it seemed uncertain which side was getting the better hand.
But at length Earl Hakon, who was supporting his son Sweyn against
Sigvaldi, saw that his northern wing was being forced backward, and
he hastened to its aid. Nevertheless, Bui the Thick still pressed
the Norwegians back with heavy blows and a ceaseless rain of arrows
and spears, and it seemed that at this point the vikings were quickly
gaining the victory. On the southern wing, however, the fight was
more equal, and Earl Erik thought that he would go to his brother's
help. He went thither, accordingly, but could do no more than set the
wing in line again. Hakon then returned to fight against Sigvaldi.

Now, by this short absence, Earl Erik had weakened the southern
wing, and, when he came back to defend his ships, he found that
Vagn Akison and Olaf Triggvison had broken through the line and
made great havoc. Erik was a brave warrior, however, and he did
not hesitate to make a bold attack upon the ships of these two
champions. He encountered them with four of his best longships
against their two. The battle at this point now grew furious, and
the carnage on both sides was tremendous. Vagn and Olaf, followed
by their berserks, jumped on board Erik's ship, and each went along
either side of her, clearing his way, so that all fell back before
the mighty blows. Erik saw that these two warriors were so fierce
and mad that he would not long be able to withstand them, and that
Earl Hakon's help must be got as quickly as possible. Yet he goaded
his men on, and they made a brave resistance. Olaf was often attacked
by three or four berserks at once, but he guarded every blow, and
received but little hurt. He fought whiles with his sword and whiles
with his battleaxe, and at times even with both weapons, one in
either hand, dealing many hard and heavy blows, and slaying many
a man. And ever when the decks were cleared there came on board
other hosts of men from the neighbouring ships. Olaf wanted to come
to a hand to hand combat with Earl Erik, but Erik always avoided
him.

In the midst of this conflict one of Erik's men went forward and
cut the lashings that bound the ships together, so that Olaf's
dragonship drifted apart. Olaf noticed this, and he fought his way
across the deck to where Vagn Akison was. At this moment there was
a great onrush of Norwegians, and Vagn and Olaf sought the safety
of one of their own ships. They jumped on board of her, and had
her rowed some distance away, so that they might rest themselves
and make ready for a new attack.

There was then a pause in the battle, and it was seen that Earl
Hakon's ship had been taken landward, out of reach of the Jomsvikings'
arrows. The legend tells that, seeing the battle going against
him, he took some men ashore with him, together with his little son
Erling--a lad of seven years of age. Entering a forest glade he
prayed to the gods, and offered to propitiate them by making human
sacrifice. When he thought that his vows and prayers were heard,
he took young Erling and put him to death. Then he returned to
the battle, and there was a sudden change in the weather. The sky
began to darken in the north, and a heavy black cloud glided up
from the sea, spreading quickly. A shower of hailstones followed
at once, and the Jomsvikings had to fight with their faces against
the blinding storm, which was so terrible that some of the men could
do no more than stand against it, as they had previously taken off
their clothes on account of the heat. They began to shiver, though
for the most part they fought bravely enough.

Hakon Jarl now had the advantage, confident that the gods had
accepted the sacrifice of his son, and intended to give him the
victory. It is said that some saw the maidens of Odin, the Valkyrias,
standing at the prow of Hakon's ship, sending forth a deadly hail
of unerring arrows.

The vikings fought half blindly, though they were sorely pressed,
and their decks were slippery with the slush of blood and melting
hail, and in spite of the twilight and the raging storm they still
held their own. But at last Earl Sigvaldi began to lose heart.

"It seems to me," he cried, "that it is not men whom we have to
fight today, but the worst fiends."

Some one reminded him of the vow he had taken at King Sweyn's
inheritance feast.

"I did not vow to fight against fiends!" he answered; and, seeing
Earl Hakon making ready for a renewed onslaught, he added: "Now
I will flee, and all my men with me, for the battle is worse than
when I spoke of it before, and I will stand it no longer."

He turned away his ship, shouting to Vagn and Bui, whose ships
were now close to his own, to follow in all haste. But these two
champions were braver than their chief. Vagn Akison saw Sigvaldi
retreating, and cried out to him in a frenzy of rage:

"Why dost thou flee, thou evil hound, and leave thy men in the
lurch? That shame shall cling to thee all the days of thy life!"

Earl Sigvaldi made no reply, and it was well for him that he did
not; for at the same instant a spear was hurled from Vagn's hand
at the man who was at the helm, in the post usually occupied by
the chief. But Sigvaldi, being cold, had taken one of the oars to
warm himself, so that the man at the rudder was killed instead.

Confusion now spread throughout the fleet of the vikings. The line
was broken, and five and twenty of their ships followed in the wake
of Earl Sigvaldi. At last only Vagn Akison and Bui the Thick were
left. And now Earl Hakon pulled up alongside the ship of Bui, and a
combat ensued, which has scarcely had its equal in all the battles
of the Northmen. Two great berserks of Jomsburg--Havard the Hewer
and Aslak Rockskull--vaulted over the gunwale of Hakon's ship
and made tremendous havoc, until an Icelander seized an anvil that
lay on the deck and dashed it against Aslak's head. Havard had both
his feet cut off, but fought on furiously, standing on his knees.
The spears and arrows whizzed about the head of Earl Hakon, and
his coat of mail was so rent and cut that it fell off from him. It
seemed now that the few Jomsvikings who were left would have the
glory of victory all to themselves. But in the thick of the fight
Earl Erik Hakonson, with a throng of men, boarded the galley of
Bui the Thick, and in the first onslaught Bui received a sword cut
across his lips and chin. He did not flinch, but tried to pass off
his injury with a jest.

"The pretty women in Borgund holm will not now be so fond of kissing
me," said he.

Then the Norwegians pressed in a great throng against him, and
he saw that further resistance was useless. He took up two chests
of gold, one in either arm, and mounting the gunwale of his ship,
cried out: "Overboard all folk of Bui!" and sprang into the sea.
Thereupon many of his men followed his example, while the rest were
slain. So was Bui's ship cleared from stem to stern.

Vagn Akison and Olaf Triggvison were now the only two champions
remaining out of all the vikings of Jomsburg, and they had no
more than fifty men to support them. Earl Erik now boarded their
dragonship, and there was a fierce fight. But the Norwegians had
the larger company, and when all but thirty of the vikings were
slain, Vagn Akison surrendered and called upon Olaf to follow his
example.

"Never shall it be said that I surrendered to any man!" cried Olaf
proudly. "Rather would I die fighting."

And, gripping his battleaxe, he prepared to resist all who should
come near him. But strong and valiant though he was, he could not
hold his own against the crowd of warriors then gathered about him.
He was seized from behind, disarmed, and bound hand and foot with
strong ropes. In like manner were Vagn Akison and all the other
captives bound.

At nightfall they were taken to the shore where Earl Hakon had
landed and pitched his tents.

Now, it was a question with Earl Hakon what he should do with these
thirty captives. He did not doubt that, because they were all that
remained of the Jomsburgers, they were therefore the bravest and
stoutest of all the vikings who had engaged in the great battle,
and he feared that if they were allowed to live they would surely
bring some great trouble upon him. So he ordered them to be
slain. This order, added to the fact of his having sacrificed his
own son for the sake of victory, was remembered against him by the
Norwegians in the after time, and it went far towards gaining for
him the hatred of his people.

Early in the morning Vagn and Olaf, with their thirty comrades,
were led out in front of the tents for execution. They were made to
sit in a row on the trunk of a fallen tree. Their feet were bound
with ropes, but their hands were left free. The man who was to act
as executioner was one Thorkel Leira, a stalwart warrior, who had
done great deeds in the battle. Now, this same Thorkel was an old
enemy of Vagn Akison, and at the arvel of King Sweyn, Vagn had
taken a solemn oath that he would be the death of him. It seemed
that, like all the other vikings who had spoken so boldly at that
feast, Vagn was to be cheated of his vow, yet he resolved to meet
his death bravely.

When all was ready Thorkel appeared before the captives, carrying
a great axe. He put Vagn Akison at the end of the log, intending
to keep him to the last in order to increase his agony. But Vagn
sat chatting and joking with his companions, and there was much
laughter. Earl Hakon wanted to know if these men were as hardy,
and if their disregard of death were as firm, as report told, and
each of them, when his turn came to be dealt with by the executioner,
was asked some question, as--"How likest thou to die?" and each
answered in his own fashion.

"I should not be a worthy Jomsviking if I were afraid of death,"
said one; and then Thorkel dealt him the blow. Another said: "It
is a great satisfaction to die by the hand of a brave warrior,
although I would like better if I were allowed a chance of first
striking a blow at him." And a third: "I shall at least die in
good company; but first, let me tighten my belt." One of them said:
"I like very well to die, but strike me quickly; I have my cloak
clasp in my hand, and I will thrust it into the earth if I wot of
anything after my head is off." So the head was smitten from him,
and down fell the clasp from his nerveless hand.

Eighteen of the vikings had been slain when it came to the turn of
Olaf Triggvison, and at this moment Earl Erik came upon the scene.
Olaf bared his neck, and swept up his long golden hair in a coil
over his head.

"Let none of the blood fall upon my hair!" said he. So Thorkel told
one of the bystanders to hold the coil of hair while he struck off
Olaf's head. The man took the beautiful hair in his two hands and
held it fast, while Olaf stretched forth his neck. Thorkel hove
up his axe. Then Olaf snatched back his head sharply, and so it
happened that the blow hit the man who had hold of his hair, and
the axe took off both his hands.

"Who is this goodly young man?" asked Earl Erik, stepping forward
in front of Olaf.

"The lads call me Ole the Esthonian," Olaf replied.

"You are no Esthonian born," returned Erik. "Of what land are you,
then?"

"What matters it, so long as I am from Jomsburg?" asked Olaf.

"I had thought you were of Norway," Erik said, "and if that be so
it were not well that you should die. What is your age?"

Olaf answered: "If I live this winter I shall be three and twenty
winters old."

Erik said, "You shall live this winter if I have my will, for I do
not like to see one so handsome and strong put to such a death as
this. Will you have peace?"

"That depends upon who it is that offers me life," said Olaf.

"He offers it who has the power--Earl Erik himself," answered
the earl.

"Then I gladly accept," said Olaf. And Earl Erik ordered his men
to set Olaf free from his tether.

At this Thorkel Leira grew wrothful, fearing that since the earl
was in a forgiving mood he himself would perhaps be thwarted in
his vengeance on Vagn Akison.

"Though you, Earl Erik, give peace to all these men," he cried,
"yet never shall Vagn Akison depart hence alive."  And brandishing
his axe he rushed towards his enemy. One of the men on the log,
however, seeing his chief's danger, flung himself forward so that
Thorkel stumbled and fell, dropping his axe. Instantly Vagn Akison
sprang to his feet, seized the axe, and dealt Thorkel Leira his
death blow.

Thus Vagn Akison was the only one of the Jomsvikings who accomplished
what he had vowed to do.

Earl Erik, full of admiration of this feat, then said to Vagn:

"Will you have peace, Vagn Akison?"

"I will take peace gladly if it be that all my comrades have it
also," answered the viking.

"Let them all be set free," ordered the earl. And so it was done.
Eighteen of the captives had already been executed, but fourteen
had peace.

These remaining fourteen, as the price of their liberty, were
expected to take service under Earl Hakon. Even Olaf made a pretence
of agreeing to this condition, and he helped the Norwegians to clear
the devastation of battle and to take possession of the various
viking ships that had been either deserted by their crews or whose
fighting men had all been slain. But he had no intention to abide
by his compact. In the general confusion he contrived to get on
board his own disabled dragonship. There he exchanged his tattered
armour for a good suit of seaman's clothes, with a large cloak,
a sword, and a bag of gold. He remained on board until nightfall,
and then, dropping into a small sailing boat that he had been careful
to provide himself with, he stole out of the bay and was soon far
away among the skerries, safe from all pursuit.

The disappearance of Olaf Triggvison was scarcely remarked by the
Norwegians, who were at that time holding high revel in celebration
of their victory. But had Earl Hakon of Lade been able to look into
the future, and see the disasters that awaited him at the hands
of this fair haired young viking, he would surely have swept every
fiord and channel in Norway in the endeavour to drag the runaway
back and bring him to the doom that he had so easily escaped.



CHAPTER XI: WEST-OVER-SEA.


Now when Earl Sigvaldi, finding that the chances of war were going
so directly against him, fled from the battle, many of the vikings
followed him in the belief that he was but intending to make a new
rally and to presently return to the fray. That the chief of Jomsburg
could be guilty of mean cowardice surpassed their understanding;
moreover, they were bound by their oaths to obey him in all
things. Some twenty of his ships followed him out of the bay, and
the captains watched him, ready to turn back with him at his first
signal. But Sigvaldi made no signal whatsoever, and only showed, by
his extreme haste, that he was indeed bent upon making an unworthy
and cowardly retreat.

Justin and Guthmund, two of the viking captains who were sailing
in the chief's wake, turned their ships and cried aloud to their
neighbours to go back with them to the battle and to the rescue
of the brave men who had been so heedlessly deserted; and many put
about their prows. But already it was too late: not only were the
fortunes of the fight now entirely in the hands of the Norwegians,
but the storm of hail and wind, which was growing every moment more
severe, made it impossible for the ships to make headway against
its fury. All who followed Sigvaldi were therefore ever afterwards
accused of cowardice, notwithstanding that the larger number of
them were both willing and anxious to return.

Southward before the wind sailed Sigvaldi in all haste, until he
entered one of the wider channels; and then the storm ceased as
suddenly as it had begun. In the evening the ships took shelter
under the lee of one of the islands, and there they were anchored,
so that the decks might be cleared and put in good order. That
night, unknown to the chief, a council was held, and the captains,
headed by Guthmund, decided that they would no longer serve or obey
a leader who had so far forgotten the strict laws of the vikings
as to show fear in the face of an enemy.

In the early morning, therefore, when Earl Sigvaldi hoisted
his standard and made out for the open sea, none followed him. He
quickly guessed the reason, and, instead of attempting to win over
his former friends, he had his sail set to the wind and sped out
westward across the sea.

Guthmund was then elected commander of the twenty longships, and
when Sigvaldi's vessel had passed out of sight the anchors were
weighed and the little fleet moved southward among the isles. Here,
where the channels were narrow, and dangerous with hidden rocks,
sails were of little use, and the men, wearied with fighting and
smarting from their wounds, had little strength left for labouring
at the oars, so that progress was slow.

The ships were still but a few miles to the south of Ulfasound very
early on the third morning, when they fell in with a small sailing
boat far out beyond the sight of land. The boat had only one man
in it, and he sat at the stern, holding the sheet in one hand and
the tiller in the other. His head was bowed, and his chin rested
on his chest. He was sound asleep.

Guthmund, whose ship was nearest, called aloud to him, asking if
he had caught any fish that night. But the boatman still slept.
Then Guthmund took up an arrow and fired it so that it struck the
boat's mast. In an instant the man started to his feet, threw off
his cloak, and stood up. The morning sunlight shone on his head of
tangled gold hair and on part of his coat of chain mail. He looked
very noble and beautiful, and all the shipmen stared at him in
amazement.

"By the ravens of Odin! It is young Ole the Esthonian!" cried
Guthmund. And he called to Olaf to come aboard.

Olaf at first refused, saying that although he had been without
food for two days and was also sick and weak from loss of blood
and the want of rest, yet he would never demean himself by taking
the hospitality of men who had deserted their comrades in the heat
of battle.

"Where is Earl Sigvaldi?" he cried. "Let me see him that I may tell
him to his face that he is a coward!"

"We have broken off from him, and are no longer his men," answered
Guthmund. "He has sailed west over the sea towards the Orkneys.
We are now without a chief, and would be very well satisfied if
you, who are a well proved champion, would take the command over
us; and we will one and all take oath to serve you and follow you
wheresoever you may choose to lead us."

"If that be so, and if there are none but brave men among you,"
said Olaf, "then I will do as you suggest."

And he brought his boat to the quarter and climbed on board.

When he had taken drink and food and had washed himself and combed
his hair, he told of how the battle had ended and of how he had
escaped.

Now the vikings were well pleased to have such a chief as Olaf
Triggvison, for not only had they the fullest confidence in his
prowess, in his skill as a leader of men, and in his unfailing
bravery, but they also remembered that he was the owner of the
squadron of battleships which had been left in Jutland in charge of
Kolbiorn Stallare; and they rightly guessed that Olaf, with these
combined fleets, would not rest long ere he should start on some
new and warlike expedition.

During the southward voyage nothing was said by Olaf concerning his
plans. But when he joined his other fleet in Lyme Firth, he went
straightway on board his dragonship and held council with Kolbiorn.
Glad was Kolbiorn to see his master once again, and they greeted
each other as brothers.

"It seems to me," said Kolbiorn, when Olaf had told him of the
defeat of the Jomsvikings, "that now with these forty ships that
are ours we might very well fare to Norway, and take vengeance upon
Earl Hakon. If we could take him unawares our chance of defeating
him would be great, and who can tell but you would succeed where
Sigvaldi failed, and so make yourself the King of Norway?"

But Olaf shook his head.

"Not so," said he; "Earl Hakon is a much greater man than you think,
Kolbiorn. His power is well established in the land, and his people
are well content and prosperous under his rule. I am not afraid
to meet him in battle. But our forces are very small compared with
the great host of men and ships that Hakon could muster at any
moment, and to attempt this journey you propose would only mean
disaster. A better plan have I been nursing in my mind these three
days past."

"What plan is that?" Kolbiorn asked.

Olaf answered: "When we were at King Sweyn's inheritance feast the
oath that Sweyn made was, that he meant to fare across the seas to
England and drive King Ethelred from his realm. Now it appears to
me that England offers a far easier conquest than Norway, or Sweyn
Forkbeard would never have resolved to make such an attempt. I have
heard that King Ethelred is but a youth--five years younger than
myself--that he is not a fighting man, but a weak fool. Certain
it is that he has very few ships to defend his coasts. Moreover,
the people of England are Christians, and it seems to me that we
should be doing a great service to Odin and Thor, and all others
of our own gods, if we were to sweep away all the Christian temples
and restore the worship of the gods of Asgard. Whereas, if we make
war in Norway we fight against those who worship as we ourselves
worship, we slay men who speak the same tongue as we speak, whose
blood is our own blood, and whose homes are the homes of our own
birthland. Many Norsemen have reaped great plunder in England and
have made great settlements on the English coasts. Why should not
we follow their example?--nay, why should we not conquer the
whole kingdom?"

Kolbiorn strode to and fro in the cabin without at first expressing
any opinion on this bold scheme.

"We have now between seven and eight thousand men," continued Olaf.

"A small enough force with which to invade a great nation such
as England," said Kolbiorn. "I think there would be a far greater
chance of success if we joined with Sweyn Forkbeard."

"My experience with Earl Sigvaldi has already taught me that I can
manage with better success when I am my own master," said Olaf.
"Moreover, King Sweyn is at present at enmity with the Danish people,
and it would not be easy for him to go a-warring in foreign lands
without the risk of losing his own throne. The glory or the failure
of this expedition must be ours alone, and so soon as we can make
ready our ships I intend to set sail."

Now it was at about this time that Olaf Triggvison's followers gave
him the name of king. It was a title which the sea rovers of the
north often gave to the man whom they had chosen as their chief,
and it implied that he was a leader who ruled over warriors and
who had acquired a large number of warships. Not often did such a
king possess lands. His realm was the sea--"Ran's land"--and
his estates were his ships. In the English chronicles and histories
of this period, Olaf is referred to as King of the Norwegians; but
he was not yet a king in the sense that Sweyn Forkbeard was King of
Denmark or Ethelred King of England. The fact that he was of royal
birth was held a secret until long after his invasion of England
and his subsequent friendship with King Ethelred. Nevertheless, his
companions called him King Ole, and the name clung to him throughout
all his wanderings.

There were many wounded men on board the ships, and, while Olaf was
still lying in Lyme Firth, some of them died; others, whose limbs
were lamed and who were no longer able to work at the oars or to
engage in battle, were left behind in Jutland. Only those who were
in every way fit and strong were allowed to remain in the fleet.
When all was ready Olaf hoisted his standard and arrayed his war
shields and set out to sea.

To Saxland first he sailed. There he harried along the coasts and
got a good store of cattle and corn, and won many men and two other
ships to his following. Then about Friesland and the parts that
are now covered by the Zuyder Zee, and so right away south to the
land of the Flemings. By this time the autumn was far advanced, and
Olaf thought that he would seek out some creek or river in Flanders
where he might lie up for the winter.

On a certain sunny evening he was out upon the deeper sea in one
of his fast sailing skiffs. He chanced to look across the water in
the direction of the setting sun, and far away on the line of the
horizon he espied a ridge of white cliffs. Thorgils Thoralfson
was at his side, and the foster brothers spoke together concerning
this land that they saw. They presently determined that it could
be no other country than England. So they put about their skiff
and returned to the fleet.

At noon on the following day the forty-two ships were within a few
miles of the North Foreland of Kent. The cliffs stood out white as
snow against the gray autumn sky, and where the line of the headland
dipped the grassy slopes of a fertile valley could be seen dotted
over with browsing sheep.

Olaf Triggvison steered his dragonship down the coast, until at
length he saw a film of blue smoke that rose in the calm air above
the little seaport of Sandwich. The town stood at the mouth of a
wide creek whose banks sloped backward into sandy dunes and heather
covered knolls. The river lost itself in a forest of beech trees
that still held their trembling leaves that the summer sun had
turned to a rich russet brown. Across one of the meadows a herd of
cattle was being driven home to the safety of one of the farmsteads.
Olaf turned his ship's head landward and blew a loud blast of his
war horn. The shrill notes were echoed from the far off woods. His
fleet closed in about his wake, and he led the way inward to the
creek, rowing right up to the walls that encircled the town. A few
arrows were fired. But already the folk had fled from their homes
alarmed at the sight of so large a force, and the invaders landed
without the shedding of a drop of blood.

When the ships had been safely moored in the harbour, with their
masts lowered and their figureheads taken down, Olaf had his tents
sent ashore, and he made an encampment along the margin of the
river and in the shelter of the beech woods. His armourers built
their forges and his horsemen their stables. A small temple was
formed of heavy stones and dedicated to Odin; and so the northmen
made ready their winter quarters and prepared to follow their daily
lives in accordance with old time customs. There was pure water to
be got in abundance from the higher parts of the river, while fish
could be got near hand from out the sea. When corn and meat fell
short, it was an easy matter to make a foraging raid upon some
inland farm or monastery. At such times Olaf would send forth one
of his captains, or himself set out, with a company of horsemen, and
they would ride away through Kent, or even into Surrey, pillaging
and harrying without hindrance, and returning to the camp after
many days driving before them the cattle and swine that they had
taken, each bullock and horse being loaded with bags of corn or
meal.

These journeys were undertaken only for the sake of providing food
for the vikings and not with the thought of conquest. And, indeed,
Olaf would often give ample payment to the folk who were discreet
enough to show him no resistance, for he had a great store of gold
and richly wrought cloth upon his ships, and his heart was always
generous. But at the monasteries and holy places he made no such
return, for he vas a great enemy of Christianity.

All through that winter he remained unmolested, in peaceful possession
of the two towns of Sandwich and Richborough.

Now the monks of Canterbury and Rochester were greatly annoyed by
the near presence of the heathen pirates, and they sent messengers
to their king, telling him that the Norsemen had made this settlement
upon his coasts and imploring his protection. It was no great news
to King Ethelred, however. The Danes and Norwegians had so often
made descents upon the English shores that it seemed to him useless
to oppose them; so he sent word back to the monks that if their
monasteries and churches were in danger it would be well to build
them stronger, but that, for his own part, he had quite enough
to trouble him without raising armies to fight against a pack of
wolves. As well, he said, fight against the sea birds that eat the
worms upon our fields.

This calm indifference of the English king only gave greater boldness
to Olaf Triggvison, who very naturally considered that the monarch
who would thus allow an alien foe to settle upon his shores must
be a very child in weakness--a man with no more spirit than a
shrew mouse.

Not without cause was King Ethelred nicknamed The Unready. The
name stands not as meaning that he was unprepared, but that he was
without counsel, or "redeless". His advisers were few and, for the
most part, traitorous and unworthy; they swayed him and directed
him just as it suited their own ends, and he had not the manly
strength of will that would enable him to act for himself. Of energy
he had more than enough, but it was always misplaced. In personal
character he was one of the weakest of all the kings of England,
and his reign was the worst and most shameful in English history.
In the golden days of his father, Edgar the Peaceable, all things
had gone exceeding well in the land. There was a strong and well
disciplined navy to protect the coasts, and all intending invaders
were held in defiance. Edgar did much for the good order and
prosperity of his kingdom, and he personally saw to the administration
of justice and the forming of good laws; trade and husbandry were
encouraged by him, and commerce with foreign lands was increased.
Archbishop Dunstan was his friend and counsellor. After the death
of Edgar came the short reign of Edward the Martyr, whose murder at
Corfe Castle brought about the fall of Dunstan and the enthronement
of Ethelred.

Ethelred was but ten years old on his coronation at Kingston. Little
is told of the early years of his reign, and nothing to the young
king's credit. Already the great fleet raised by Edgar had disappeared,
and the vikings of the north had begun once more to pillage the
coasts. There were other troubles, too. London was burnt to the
ground, a great murrain of cattle happened for the first time in the
English nation, and a terrible plague carried off many thousands of
the people. For some unknown reason Ethelred laid siege to Rochester,
and, failing to take the town, ravaged the lands of the bishopric.
And now, with the coming of Olaf Triggvison, a new danger was
threatening.

Olaf was the first of the vikings to attempt anything like a planned
invasion on a large scale, and his partial success was the signal
for a yet greater descent of the northmen, which had for its object
the conquest of the whole kingdom. It was Olaf Triggvison who, if
he failed in his own attempt, at least pointed out the way by which
King Sweyn of Denmark and his greater son Canute at length gained
possession of the throne of England and infused the nation with
the blood which now flows in the veins of every true born Briton.
The ocean loving vikings of the north were the ancestors of the
English speaking people of today. Our love of the sea and of ships,
the roving spirit that has led us to make great colonies in distant
lands, our skill in battle, our love of manly sports, even perhaps
our physical strength and endurance--all these traits have come
to us from our forefathers of Scandinavia. Nor must it be forgotten
that the Normans, who conquered England just five and seventy years
after the landing of Olaf, were themselves the sons of the vikings.
Rolf the Ganger was a famous warrior in the service of King Harald
Fairhair. Exiled by Harald from Norway, he made a settlement in
northern France, whither many of his countrymen followed him. That
part of France was thereafter named Normannia, or Normandy--the
land of the Norsemen. Rolf was there made a duke. His son William
was the father of Richard the Fearless, who was the grandfather of
the great William the Conqueror.

Now, when that same wintertide had passed, and when the new buds were
showing on the trees, Olaf Triggvison arrayed his ships ready for
the sea. Leaving some of his older men in occupation of Sandwich,
he stood out northward past Thanet and across the mouth of the
Thames towards East Anglia, where, as he understood, the bravest of
the English people dwelt. His four best dragonships were commanded
by himself, Kolbiorn, Guthmund, and Justin. His foster brother
Thorgils had command of one of the longships. The fleet numbered
forty sail, and each ship was manned by some two hundred warriors
and seamen. When the men were landed to fight, one third of the
company remained behind to guard the ships. Thus the forces that
Olaf usually took ashore with him numbered between five and six
thousand warriors.

The first place at which the vikings landed was at the mouth of a
wide vik, leading far inland. A man named Harald Biornson was the
first to leap ashore. Olaf named the place Harald's vik, but it
is in these days spelled Harwich. Olaf followed the banks of the
river for many miles, pillaging some steads, and carrying off much
treasure from a certain monastery. The monks and friars fought well
against him, but were soon defeated, and their houses and barns
were left in flames. Farther inland the northmen went until they
came to a made road, which crossed the river by a stone bridge.
Olaf thought that this road must lead to some large town, so he
took his forces over it northward into Suffolk, and at length he
came within sight of Ipswich, and he resolved to attack the place.
But he was not then prepared to enter battle, as many of his men
had come ashore without their body armour and shields, deeming
these too heavy to carry in sunny weather. So they returned to the
ships and approached the town by way of the sea. They sailed up
the Orwell river, and fell upon the town first with arrow and spear
and then with sword and axe. The men of Ipswich met their foes in
the middle of the town, and there was a great fight. But ere the
sun went down Olaf had got the victory. He pillaged the houses and
churches, and having emptied them of all that was worth taking he
carried off the booty to his ships. He found that this was a good
place to harbour his fleet in for a time, so he remained in Ipswich
until the blossom had fallen from the trees.



CHAPTER XII: THE BATTLE OF MALDON.


Now this sacking of the town of Ipswich brought terror into the
hearts of the men of East Anglia, who well knew how useless it
would be for them to appeal for help to King Ethelred. There were
brave men in that part of the country, however, who, at the first
alarm of the landing of the Norsemen, made themselves ready to
defend their homes and the homes of their neighbours. Chief among
these was a certain holy and valiant man named Brihtnoth. He was
at this time Earldorman of East Anglia. He had already done great
work in spreading the Christian faith among the poor and ignorant
people over whom he stood in authority, and his beneficent gifts
to the monasteries of Ely and Ramsey had won for him the reputation
almost of a saint. The monks regarded him as a man of quiet and
thoughtful life, absorbed in acts of charity; but he proved that he
could be a man of action also, for he was soon to become the hero
of one of the most famous and disastrous battles ever fought on
English soil.

When Brihtnoth heard that the vikings had taken possession of Ipswich
he put aside his books, and, taking down his sword, rode about the
country side gathering men about him. He assembled a goodly army of
soldiers, both archers and swordmen, and marched towards the coast.
It is told that during this march he came to a certain monastery
and asked for food for his army. The abbot declared that he would
willingly entertain the Earldorman and such well born men as were
with him, but would not undertake to feed the whole host. Brihtnoth
answered that he would take nothing in which all his soldiers could
not share, so he marched on to the next monastery, where he fared
with more success.

Now it speedily came to the ears of Olaf Triggvison that this army
was being assembled against him, and he sent out spies, who in time
came back with the news that Brihtnoth was encamped upon a hillside
near the town of Maldon, in Essex.

Olaf at once weighed anchor, and took his fleet southward past the
Naze until he came to the mouth of the river Panta (now called the
Blackwater). He led his ships inward on the top of the tide. Two
hours' rowing brought him within sight of the houses of Maldon. The
town stood upon a hill overlooking the river, which at this point
branched off in two separate streams, one stream passing by the
foot of the hill, the other flowing at a little distance to the
north and passing under a strong stone built bridge. Olaf brought
his ships into the branch nearest to the town, and his men, on
landing, gathered in a confused crowd in occupation of the space
between the two streams.

Brihtnoth had already taken up a position of vantage to the north
of the bridge, having both streams between his army and the town.
He had arrayed his troops in a compact mass in the form of a wedge or
triangle, whose narrower point was opposite to the roadway of the
bridge. The men occupying the outer lines stood with their large
shields locked together so closely that they made a strong rampart
or shield fortress, behind which the archers and spearmen might remain
in safety while assailing their advancing foes. It was considered
very important in the early part of a battle that the shield fortress
should not be broken or opened, nor could such a breach be easily
effected except by overpowering strength or stratagem. Mounted on
a sturdy little white horse, the Earldorman rode backward and forward in
front of the lines to see that his men stood firm in their ranks.
When all was ready he alighted, sent his horse to the rear, and
took his place among his troops, determined to share every danger
of his lowlier comrades. From where he stood he could see the fair
haired vikings making a landing. Their great numbers appalled him,
but he spoke no word of fear. Presently he noticed two men whom,
by their glittering gold helmets and beautiful shields, he took to
be chiefs. They walked some distance apart from the host of shipmen,
and took their stand on a grassy knoll overlooking the opposing
armies.

"Not wrong were the reports we heard concerning these sea wolves,"
said he to a young man at his side. "Look but at those two chiefs
standing apart! Giants they are in sooth. The younger one--he
with the flowing yellow hair, and with the belt of gold about his
thick arm--is surely a head and shoulders taller than any East
Anglian I have seen. It will be a tough encounter if we come hand
to hand with that man. But let us all be brave, for we have our
homes to defend, and God will not desert us in our hour of danger.
And we have many good chances on our side. Very often the more
numerous host does not gain the victory, if there are bold and
fearless men against them."

The yellow haired chief was Olaf Triggvison, and Guthmund was his
companion. They had climbed the higher ground, so that they might
better calculate upon the chances of the coming battle, and great
was their surprise to see how skilfully Brihtnoth had arrayed his
men. That triangle form in which the English stood was called by
the Scandinavians the "swine array", and it was believed to have
been introduced by Odin himself. Olaf well knew how strong that
formation always proved to be against the assaults of an enemy,
and how almost impossible it was for human force to break through
it.

"The man who has marshalled that little army is no unworthy foe,"
said he; "and I think we shall do well to carefully consider our
plans before making an advance. Well has he foreseen that we should
land upon this spot, and he has so placed his host at the farther
side of the river that we shall not reach him without great difficulty.
The water is deep, and the rising tide flows quick and strong."

"But there is the bridge by which we may cross," returned Guthmund.

Olaf smiled and shook his head.

"The bridge is very narrow," he said, "and the old chief has
wisely placed three of his champions there to defend it and bar
our passage."

"Though he had placed there three score of champions, I see no
danger in our crossing," said Guthmund.

"Nevertheless, the bridge would still be secure to those who hold
it," answered Olaf. "Indeed, I would myself engage to hold such a
position with my own hand against a far greater force than ours.
It is but a matter of endurance, and one good sword, well wielded,
is as good as the strongest gate ever made."

As he spoke he noticed the figure of Earldorman Brihtnoth, who
now left his place in the ranks, and advanced towards the three
champions at the bridge. The old man stood there awhile giving some
directions to the bridge defenders. He was about to return when he
saw that Olaf was sending Guthmund down to him with some message,
and he waited.

When Guthmund stepped upon the bridge he laid down his sword upon
the ground. Brihtnoth went forward to meet him.

"What is your will?" asked the Earldorman.

"I have come with a message from my king," answered the viking.

"What says your king?"

"He says that since it appears to be the common practice in this
country for kings and earls to buy off an unwelcome foe with offers
of gold, he will engage to withdraw and go back to his ships on
your paying him a sum of money that he will name."

Brihtnoth drew back in anger at such an offer, not guessing that
King Olaf was but testing his bravery.

"And who is it that has told your chief that such is the habit of
our English kings?" he demanded.

"Little need was there for anyone to tell the tale," answered
Guthmund, "for it is well known throughout the countries of the
vikings that King Ethelred has not so many brave warriors at his
call that he can afford to lose them for the sake of a few bags
of gold. Not once but many times has he thus sought to buy off the
Norsemen."

"Go back to your chief," cried Brihtnoth, with an indignant sweep
of his arm; "go back and tell him that steel, and not gold, is the
only metal that can now judge between him and me!"

"It is the metal that King Olaf has ever favoured," returned Guthmund;
"and right glad will he be to hear that there is at least one man
among the English who is brave enough to be of that same opinion."

So, when Olaf's messenger returned, there arose a loud cry from
the deep throats of the vikings. The cry had scarcely died away ere
the air was filled with arrows, that fell in a heavy shower among
the English. Then Brihtnoth's archers answered the challenge, and
the battle began in good earnest. For a long time the two armies
stood facing each other, with the river running between, and arrows
alone were the weapons used. But at last one of Olaf's captains
-- Justin it was--ran forward, sword in hand and shield on arm,
towards the bridge. He was closely followed by a large number of
the vikings.

Bravely did the three champions stand at their post. With their
feet firmly set, and their shields before them, they met the onrush
of their foes, wielding their long swords with such precision and
strength that Justin and five of his fellows fell dead without
striking a single blow. Onward the vikings pressed, leaping over
the bodies of their fallen companions, but only to be themselves
driven back again under the terrible blows that met them. Very soon
the roadway of the bridge was so crowded with the slain that many
of the men fell over the parapet into the deep water of the river.
A party of Olaf's bowmen stood by the nearer end of the bridge,
assailing the three dauntless defenders with their arrows. Again
the northmen charged. This time they were led by Kolbiorn Stallare,
who advanced slowly, and not with a heedless rush as the others had
done. He carried his heavy battleaxe; but before he could raise his
weapon to strike, the nearest of the defenders stepped unexpectedly
forward and dealt him a tremendous blow which made him stagger
backward. The blow was met by his strong shield, and he received
no hurt; but in stepping back he tripped upon the arm of one of
his fallen comrades, and was borne down under the weight of the
men who, following close behind him, rushed headlong to the death
that he had escaped. There Kolbiorn lay for a long while, and Olaf
Triggvison, who had seen him fall, believed him to be dead.

Now it was Guthmund and not Olaf who had given the command to the
Norsemen to attempt the taking of the bridge, and Olaf was very
angry at seeing so many of his best men sacrificed. He had seen
that the tide in the creek was ebbing, and that very soon the bridge
would cease to be an important post. Accordingly he ordered that
those who were still endeavouring to cross should be withdrawn.

The three champions who had thus succeeded in keeping the bridge
were named Wulfstan, Elfhere, and Maccus. Wulfstan was the man who
had struck Kolbiorn Stallare, and he knew that the blow could not
have killed him. So when the vikings had left the bridge he rescued
Kolbiorn from under the weight of slain men who had fallen over
him, and Kolbiorn limped back to the rear of the Norse archers
who, all this time, had kept up a constant firing of arrows upon
the Englishmen.

When at last the tide had fallen, and the ford could be passed, the
bridge defenders retreated, and Brihtnoth allowed the northmen to
cross over unhindered. Olaf led his chosen men across by the road,
while the larger number of his warriors waded through the stream.
And now the fight began in desperate earnest.

Separating his forces into three divisions, Olaf advanced to the
attack. He directed his left wing, under the command of Guthmund,
upon Brihtnoth's right flank; his right wing, under Harald Biornson,
wheeled round to the attack of Brithnoth's left. He reserved for
himself the position which was considered the most difficult to deal
with--the point where the English chief himself stood, surrounded
by his strongest and most experienced soldiers. This was the
narrowest part of the formation, and Olaf knew that if he could but
break through the wall of shields at this point the whole mass of
men, now so compact and impregnable, would quickly be thrown into
confusion.

Kolbiorn fought at Olaf's right hand, and Thorgils Thoralfson at
his left. Behind and about them were a thousand of the most valiant
vikings and berserks.

The attack began on all sides with the hurling of javelins, but very
soon the northmen approached closer to their enemies, and carried
on a closer combat with their swords, and at first the vikings got
the worst of it.

Olaf and his fellows had already caught sight of the white bearded
Brihtnoth, and they were making their way towards him when Thorgils
Thoralfson fell forward, pierced to the heart with a spear. Now,
the spear was one which Olaf himself had before thrown into the
midst of the English ranks, and it had now been returned in such
a manner that Olaf at once knew it had been hurled by some man
trained as the vikings were in the use of the weapon. Advancing
yet nearer, he searched with quick eye among the faces of the men
before him. As he did so another spear was flung; this time it was
aimed at Kolbiorn, who caught it on his uplifted shield.

Kolbiorn had seen the face of the man who had thus picked him out,
and throwing his shield aside he gripped his battleaxe, and flinging
himself with all his great strength against the wall of men he
burst through the ranks. Olaf saw him fighting his way into the
midst of the soldiers, who fell back before the weighty axe. At
last Kolbiorn reached the man he sought, and engaged with him hand
to hand, while Olaf and the vikings followed into the breach. In a
very few moments Olaf was at Kolbiorn's side, and then he too saw
the face of the man who had killed Thorgils. It was the face of his
own fellow-slave in far off Esthonia, his companion in Holmgard,
his shipmate Egbert, whom he had believed to be drowned.

The duel between Kolbiorn and Egbert lasted for several minutes,
but it was evident that Kolbiorn was but playing with his adversary,
for he gave him many chances.

"Less skilful are you than when we last met," he said with a laugh,
"and your wrist is not so strong. Gladly would I have given you
a few more lessons had opportunity served; but instead I must now
repay the blow you gave me over our game of chess."

Egbert then fell, and Kolbiorn turned to the help of Olaf, who was
now engaged with the English chief and three of his special comrades.

Brihtnoth wanted to fight Olaf sword to sword, but Olaf respected
his bravery and his grey hairs, and chose rather to encounter a
very broad chested Englishman, who had already slain three of the
vikings. As Kolbiorn entered the fray he saw Brihtnoth turn away
from Olaf and cross swords with one of the berserks. The berserk
fell, with a great cut across his head. His place was taken by one
of his shipmates, whom the old chief also overcame. The Earldorman
was wounded, but he went on bravely fighting until at last he was
cut down by a viking named Harek the Hawk.

The spot where the English chief had fallen became now the centre
of the battle. Here, in defence of their dead leader's body, the
bravest among the English fought and fell. Wulfstan, Maccus, and
Elfhere--the three who had held the bridge--again fought shoulder
to shoulder at this place. Wulfstan was vanquished by Olaf, and
his two companions fell to Kolbiorn's blade. The names of some of
the other English warriors are Alfwine, a lord of the Mercians,
Eseferth, Brihtwold, Edward the Long, Leofsuna, and Dunnere; all of
whom fell in defending the body of Brihtnoth. One of the vikings,
thinking that Olaf meant to gain possession of it, carried off
the body of the dead hero; but Olaf would not allow his men to do
dishonour to so brave a foe, and he afterwards delivered the body
to Brihtnoth's friends, who gave it a worthy resting place in Ely
cathedral.

Meanwhile the battle had fared ill with the East Anglians on the
other parts of the field. The breaking of the fortress of shields
had thrown the ranks into confusion. The vikings, under Guthmund
and Harek, followed up their advantage and fought with fierce
onslaught. The English were but ill armed; many of them had bills
and swords, others had spears and arrows, but some had no better
weapons than such as they had themselves contrived out of their
farm implements.

When it was seen that the northmen were gaining the victory on all
hands many of the English began to lose courage, and one, a caitiff
named Godric, mounted the horse on which Brihtnoth had ridden to
the field, so that many thought that it was the Earldorman himself
who had fled. After this there was a general retreat, and so the
battle of Maldon ended.

Olaf Triggvison made no assault upon the town, but pitched his tents
on the high ground between the two streams where he had landed.
He allowed the East Anglians to carry off their dead and give them
Christian burial. His own dead numbered over four hundred, and he
had them laid in a mound with all their armour and weapons, and
built a cairn over them according to the heathen custom.

He lay with his ships off Maldon during the rest of the summer,
and raided in Essex and Suffolk without hindrance.

Now it might be thought that King Ethelred, hearing, as he soon
heard, of the taking of Ipswich and of the defeat of the East
Anglians at Maldon, would lose no time in gathering an army to
expel the invaders.

The spirit of the nation was ready for a vigorous resistance of
the northmen, and with a few such men as Brihtnoth to lead them
the English might without much difficulty have driven every viking
out of the land. But Ethelred was a man of quite another stamp from
the valiant Earldorman of East Anglia, and he adopted the fatal
system of looking to gold to do the work of steel.

Olaf Triggvison and a party of his captains returned to the camp
one day, after a great boar hunt, and they found that in their
absence certain messengers had arrived from Andover, where the
king held his court. Olaf directed that the men should be brought
to him in his tent, and there he held speech with them. On entering
the tent the messengers set down before the viking chief two heavy
bags containing the sum of ten thousand pounds in gold, This money,
the men said, had been sent by King Ethelred as a gift to the leader
of the Norsemen.

"And for what reason should King Ethelred send such a gift to me
who have done him no good service, but have only been despoiling
his lands and disturbing his peaceful subjects?"

"It is because the king wishes you to cease your ravaging in East
Anglia and take away your ships and men," returned the spokesman.
"That is the condition he imposes on your accepting the gold."

"And how if I refuse the gold and say that it does not suit my
purpose to remove my ships?" asked Olaf. "Will your king then march
with his armies against the vikings, and give us the exercise of
another good battle?"

The messenger shrugged his shoulders.

"King Ethelred does not doubt that you will take the gold," said
he. "And as to his marching against you, of that matter he has said
no word."

"In that case you may leave the money in my keeping," said Olaf.
"And I charge you to thank King Ethelred for his generosity. It so
happens that this part of the country is already becoming somewhat
bare of food and we are wearying for new scenes. I think, therefore,
that before the winter days are far advanced we shall weigh anchor
and set sail. But our going shall not be one day earlier on account
of Ethelred's desire to be rid of us."

The messengers wanted a more definite promise from Olaf that
he would not only sail away at this present time but also that he
would not again invade the English coasts. But to this Olaf would
not agree. Either the king must be satisfied that the vikings
intended to quit the shores of East Anglia in a few weeks' time,
or he might take back his gold and suffer his kingdom to be invaded
and ravaged at whatever point the Norsemen chose to make a landing.

It seemed for a long time that they could come to no agreement;
but finally the matter was so arranged that the gold was delivered
into Olaf's hands and the messengers departed, with a mere half
promise of peace and the assurance that Olaf would remove his ships
within twenty days. Olaf did not hold himself bound to keep these
conditions; nevertheless he resolved to abide by them. He had
already discovered that his forces were too small to attempt, with
any certainty of success, a deliberate conquest of England; and,
indeed, even before the arrival of Ethelred's messengers, he had
determined to presently withdraw his fleet until such times as he
had gathered about him a host large enough and strong enough to
lay siege to London. His departure from Maldon was therefore of
his own choosing and not the result of any threats upon the part
of the English king.

Meanwhile Olaf did not lose sight of the fact that the foolish
policy of King Ethelred, instead of having the effect of securing
the kingdom against invasion, only set forth a very strong
encouragement to the vikings to repeat their incursions as often
as they were in want of money. Ethelred and his advisers seem never
to have learned this lesson, and for many years after the battle
of Maldon the sea rovers, both Danish and Norwegian, continued to
harry the English coasts, with the invariable result that, so soon
as they had plundered a few monasteries and reduced a few villages
to ashes, they were sure to receive the offer of a very handsome
bribe as an inducement to put to sea again.



CHAPTER XIII: THE HERMIT OF THE SCILLYS.


On a certain day in the late winter of the next year Olaf Triggvison
led his fleet across the turbulent waters of the Pentland Firth, and
steered his course for the islands of Orkney. On his way northward
along the coasts of England he had many times made a landing to
plunder some seaside village and to replenish his stores of food
and water. He had harried wide on both shores of the Humber and
in Northumberland, had stormed King Ida's fortress of Bamborough,
and made a raid upon Berwick. In Scotland, also, he had ravaged and
plundered. But of these adventures there remains no record. Before
the time of his crossing to the Orkneys he had lost five of his
ships and a large number of his men, and from this it may be judged
that he had either encountered very stormy weather or suffered some
reverse at the hands of his enemies.

The snow still lay deep upon the islands when he entered the wide
channel named Scapa Flow, and anchored his fleet under shelter of
the high island of Hoy. Many of his vessels were by this time in
need of repair, so he crossed the sound and beached them near to
where the port of Stromness now lies, and at this place he took up
his quarters until the coming of the summer.

The Orkney Islands were then, and for many generations afterwards,
peopled by Scandinavian vikings and their families, who paid tax
and tribute to Norway. Olaf therefore found himself among men who
spoke his own tongue, and who were glad enough to make friends
with a chief, of whom it could be said that he had done great and
valiant deeds in battle. One thing which more than all else won
these people to him was their knowledge that he was the same Ole
the Esthonian who, with Vagn Akison, had stood out to the end in
the great sea fight against Hakon of Lade. Earl Hakon was now the
ruler over the Orkney islanders, but he was beginning to be so
bitterly hated by them that they looked upon all his enemies as
their own particular friends. For a little time they had centred
their hopes in Earl Sigvaldi of Jomsburg, who had lately taken refuge
in the Orkneys. But Sigvaldi had now gone back to his stronghold
on the Baltic, in the hope of restoring his scattered company of
vikings. The coming of Olaf was therefore regarded with great favour
by the Orcadian vikings, who thought it possible that he would join
them in an attempt to drive Earl Hakon from the Norwegian throne.

In order to delay Olaf's departure from the islands the people got
him to help them in building a great temple on the shores of one of
their lakes, and, when the temple was finished and duly dedicated
to Odin, they proposed to Olaf that he should lead an expedition
across to Norway. Olaf replied that he did not consider the time
ripe for such an attempt, and that for the present he had other
plans in hand; but he bade them, in the meantime, busy themselves
with the building of ships.

Now while Olaf was still in Orkney there came one day into Scapa
Flow one of the ships of King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark. Olaf
learned from her captain that the Dane folk had rebelled against
Sweyn, for the reason that, having accepted Christianity and
compelled his people to follow his example, he had now thrown off
the true belief and turned back to the worship of the heathen gods,
demanding that his subjects should again acknowledge Odin and Thor
to be greater than the God of the Christians. Rather than do this,
the Danes had resolved to drive their unbelieving king into exile;
and Sweyn Forkbeard, having lost his throne, had taken to vikingry.

On hearing this, Olaf Triggvison gave the ship captain a message
to take back to his master, bidding Sweyn remember the vow he had
sworn at his inheritance feast, and saying that if he had a mind to
fulfil that vow he might now make the attempt, for that he--Ole
the Esthonian--was now preparing his forces for a great invasion
of England, and would be well pleased if Sweyn would join him in
the expedition. The place of the gathering of the forces was to
be Ipswich, in East Anglia, and the time of meeting was to be the
middle of the harvest month in the next summer.

Olaf did not wait in the Orkneys for an answer to this message.
His vikings were already growing weary of idleness and eager to be
again upon the sea. So the ships were put in readiness, and when
a fair wind offered, the anchors were weighed and the sails set,
and the fleet sped westward through Roy Sound towards Cape Wrath.
Thence they sailed down among the Hebrides--or the Southern Isles,
as the Norsemen always called them. Here Olaf had many battles
and won many ships from the descendants of Harald Fairhair's rebel
subjects, who had made settlements in the Isles. Here, too, he
gained some hundreds of men to his following. He harried also in
the north parts of Ireland, and had certain battles in the Island
of Man. By this time the summer was far spent, so he sailed east
away to Cumberland and there rested throughout the winter.

His men thought that this part of England, with its mountains and
lakes, was so much like their own birthland in distant Norway,
that they showed great unwillingness to leave it. Many did, indeed,
remain, and the settlements they made in the lake country have left
traces which even to the present day may be recognized, not only
in the remains of heathen temples and tombs, but also in the names
of places and in certain Norse words that occur in the common speech
of the Cumbrian folk.

From Cumberland Olaf sailed south to Wales. There again he harried
wide about, and also in Cornwall, and at length he came to the
Scilly Isles. King Athelstane had conquered these islands half a
century before, and had established a monastery there, the ruins
of which may still be seen.

Now when Olaf Triggvison lay at Scilly, sheltering from a storm
that had driven him out of his intended course, he heard that in
the isle of Tresco there was a certain soothsayer who was said to
be well skilled in the foretelling of things which had not yet come
to pass. Olaf fell a-longing to test the spaeing of this man.

"I will try him by means of a trick," Olaf said one day to Kolbiorn;
"and in this wise: You shall go to him instead of me, and say that
you are King Ole the Esthonion; and if he believes you, then is he
no soothsayer."

Now Olaf was already famed in all lands for being fairer and nobler
than all other men, and he chose Kolbiorn as his messenger because
he was the fairest and biggest of his men and most resembled himself,
and he sent him ashore, arrayed in the most beautiful clothing.

Kolbiorn searched long among the trees and rocks before he found the
little cave in which the lonely hermit dwelt; and when he entered
he saw a gray bearded old man, deep in meditation before a crucifix,
and wearing the habit of a Christian priest.

The hermit looked up at the tall figure of his visitor, and waited
for him to speak. Kolbiorn answered as Olaf had bidden him, saying
that his name was King Ole. But the hermit shook his head.

"King thou art not," said he gravely; "but my counsel to thee is,
that thou be true to thy King."

No other word did he speak, and Kolbiorn turned away and fared back
to Olaf, who, on hearing of the answer that had been given, longed
all the more to meet this hermit, whom he now believed to be verily
a soothsayer.

So on the next day, while the wind was high and the waves broke
with a heavy roar upon the rocks, Olaf dressed himself very simply,
without any body armour, and went ashore, attended by two shieldmen.
When he entered the hermit's cell he found the old man sitting at
an oaken table with a roll of parchment before him, upon which he
was inscribing some holy legend. He greeted Olaf most kindly, and
when they had spoken together for a while, Olaf asked him what he
could say as to how he should speed coming by his rightful inheritance
or any other good fortune.

Then the hermit answered:

"In the time that is to come, thou shalt be a very glorious king
and do glorious deeds. Many men shalt thou bring to the right troth
and to christening, helping thereby both thyself and thy fellow
men."

"As to the first part of your prophecy--that I shall become a
great king, that I can well believe," returned Olaf; "but that I
shall ever help men to christening, I cannot believe, for I am now,
and always shall be, a faithful worshipper of the gods of Asgard
and an enemy to all believers in Christ."

"Nevertheless," answered the hermit, "the second part of what I
have said is even more certain to come true than the first; and,
to the end that my words may be trusted, take this as a token:
Hard by thy ship thou shall presently fall into a snare of a host
of men, and battle will spring thence, and thou wilt be sorely hurt,
and of this wound thou shalt look to die and be borne to ship on
shield; yet thou shalt be whole of thy hurt within seven nights
and be speedily christened thereafter."

Olaf laughed at the good man, and presently went his way. But as he
passed downward towards the boat that awaited him among the rocks,
he was met by a party of unpeaceful men who fell suddenly upon him
with their swords. Olaf called upon his two guards, who had lagged
behind, but ere they came to his help he, being without any arms,
received a great sword thrust in his chest. His assailants fled
when they saw the two guards approaching from among the trees, and
Olaf was left bleeding where he fell. His two men lifted him upon
one of their shields, and carried him down to the boat and bore
him wounded upon his ship. For six days he lay unconscious, and,
as all thought, upon the point of death. But on the seventh night
the danger was passed, and thereafter he speedily grew well.

Then Olaf deemed that in having foretold this matter so exactly the
old hermit had proved himself to be indeed a very wise soothsayer.
So he went ashore a second time, and the two talked much and long
together.

It seemed that Cerdic was the hermit's name. He had once been a
bondslave among Norsemen, and had known Olaf's father, King Triggvi,
whom Olaf personally resembled. He could speak very well in the
Norse tongue, and his soft and gentle voice was very soothing to
all who heard it. At first he spoke of the ways of heathen men,
of their revengeful spirit and their cruelty in warfare, and he
condemned their offering of blood sacrifices and their worship of
graven images. Such gods as Odin and Thor, Njord and Frey, were,
he said, but the creations of men's poetic fancy, and had no real
existence. Odin was at one time but an earthly man, with all man's
faults and sins. The earthquake and the thunder had nothing to do
with the rolling of Thor's chariot or the throwing of Thor's hammer.
The waves of the ocean would rise in anger or fall into calm peace
though the name of Njord had never been spoken; and the seasons
would change in their order, fields and pastures would grow, without
the favour of Frey.

So spoke the hermit, and then he told the story of the Creation and
of Adam's Fall, and showed how Christ had come to preach peace on
earth and to save the world. It was a principle of the Christian
faith; said Cerdic, that men should remember the Sabbath day and
keep it holy, that they should not bow down to graven images, that
they should not steal, nor be covetous, nor do murder, nor bear
false witness; that they should love their enemies and bless those
who cursed them.

Olaf listened in patience to all these things, asking many questions
concerning them. At last Cerdic appealed to him and besought him
most earnestly to come to repentance and to make himself a faithful
follower of Christ, so that he might at the close of his earthly
life be worthy to enter into the kingdom of heaven.

Now Olaf Triggvison had until this time lived always in the firm
hope that when he died he would be admitted into the shining hall
of Valhalla, where he might expect to meet all the great heroes
of past times. He believed that Odin would receive him there, and
reward him well for all the glorious deeds that he had done. So he
was not at all willing to abandon this Norseman's faith in a future
life which, as men promised, should be full of warfare by day and
of merry carousing by night.

Yet it was evident that Cerdic had not spoken without good effect;
for Olaf agreed--as many of the Scandinavians did in these times
-- that he would at once be christened, on the one condition that,
while calling himself a follower of Christ, he should not be expected
to abandon either his belief in Odin or his hopes of Valhalla.
The holy man of Scilly well knew that this divided faith would not
last long, but he was also assured that in the contest the victory
would certainly rest with Christ.

Accordingly Olaf was christened, with all his warriors and shipmen.
He lay among the Scilly Isles for many days thereafter, and learned
the true faith so well that it remained his guiding light throughout
the rest of his life, and made him, as shall presently be seen,
one of the most zealous Christians of his time.

Now, as the summer days passed by and it drew near to the harvest
time, Olaf bethought him of his tryst with King Sweyn Forkbeard,
so he raised his anchors and sped out into the open main and round
by the forelands, and so north to Ipswich. It was three years since
he had first besieged the East Anglian town, and in the interval
the folk had returned to their devastated dwellings and built them
anew. Olaf now took forcible possession of the town for a second
time. He was not yet so entirely a Christian that he had any scruples
in attacking Christian folk and turning them out of their homes.

He lay with his ships in the Orwell for three weeks, and at the
end of that time King Sweyn and his fleet arrived from the Baltic.
Olaf had already gathered about him some fifty-five vessels of war,
fully manned and equipped; and with those which Sweyn added to the
number, he had now a force of ninety-four ships of all sizes, from
small skiffs of ten banks of oars and a crew of a hundred men, up
to great dragonships with thirty pairs of oars, two towering masts,
and a complete company of about four hundred seamen and warriors.
The whole force of ninety-four ships carried with them some thirty
thousand men.

This was not to be one of the old plundering raids of a body
of adventurers seeking merely to better their fortunes by winning
themselves new homes at the point of the sword. It was an expedition
greater than any that Brihtnoth had ever met with steel or Ethelred
with gold, and its purpose was one of deliberately planned invasion
and conquest.

At first when Olaf and Sweyn met and joined their fleets and armies
there was a disagreement between them as to which chief was to
assume the higher command. Sweyn declared that the leading position
was his by the right that he was a king, and should be accorded
the more power in all things over Olaf, who (as Sweyn supposed)
was lowly born. But Olaf stoutly maintained that as it was he who
had proposed the expedition, and as he had the larger number of
men and ships, the sole command should be his own, Sweyn taking
the second place. In the end it was agreed that this should be so,
and that, in the event of their success, they were to divide the
kingdom of England between them--Sweyn taking the Northern half,
including Northumbria and the upper part of Mercia, and Olaf the
Southern half, including East Anglia and the whole of Wessex.

The first point of attack was to be London--a city which, although
not yet the capital of the kingdom, was a chief bulwark of the land
and daily becoming one of the most important centres of trade in
Western Europe. Alfred the Great, who had himself rescued the city
from the Danes, had built a strong fortress for her defence, and
her citizens had always been regarded as among the most valiant
and patriotic in all England. Olaf Triggvison was well aware that
if he should succeed in taking London, his conquest of the rest of
Ethelred's realm would be a comparatively easy matter. Unfortunately
for his plans, he did not foresee the obstacles which were to meet
him.

He led his procession of battleships up the Thames. Never before
had such a splendid array been seen upon those waters. The early
morning sun shone upon the gilded birds and dragons on the tops
of the masts. At the prow of each vessel there was reared the tall
figure of some strange and terrible animal, formed of carved and
gilded wood or of wrought brass, silver, or even amber. Many of
the ships had sails made of the finest silk, woven in beautiful
designs. The decks were crowded with men whose glittering spears
and burnished helmets gave them a very warlike aspect, and struck
terror into the hearts of the people who saw them from the river's
banks.

The alarm spread quickly from point to point, and before the invaders
had come well within sight of the city the gates were securely
closed and barricaded, and the valiant burghers were fully prepared
to make a stout resistance.

As the ships came abreast of the Tower they were assailed by
volleys of well aimed arrows, fired from the battlements. Heedless
of Olaf's plans, King Sweyn drew his division yet nearer under the
walls, with the intention of making an assault upon the citadel.
But the attempt was useless. The defenders were hidden behind the
ramparts and beyond reach of all missiles, while Sweyn's forces
were fully exposed to the ceaseless hail of arrows and stones which
seemed to issue out of the very walls. So many of his men fell that
Sweyn was forced to retire.

The garrison could frustrate an assault upon the fortress, but they
could not prevent so vast a number of ships from passing higher up
the river and making an attack upon the old Roman rampart. While
King Sweyn crossed to the opposite side of the stream and led an
attack upon Southwark, Olaf effected a landing near Billing's Gate
and directed all his strength upon the wall. He lost many men in
the attempt, but at last a breach was made, and at the head of many
hundreds of desperate warriors he entered the city. He had depended
upon Sweyn following him; and had the Danish king been content to
obey, London might indeed have been taken by sheer strength. As it
was, however, Olaf quickly found that he had made a fatal mistake.
Vast crowds of armed citizens met him at the end of each narrow
street and dealt the invaders such lusty blows, with their bills
and swords and volleys of heavy stones, that those who were not
maimed or killed outright were forced back by overpowering strength,
their ranks being driven into hopeless confusion. At one moment
Olaf Triggvison found himself, with some six or seven of his men,
surrounded by several scores of the defenders. He fought his way
through them back to the city wall, where, through the breach that
had been made, his hosts were escaping on board the ships. The
besiegers were utterly defeated. Once again had the men of London
rescued their city from its foes.

Sweyn Forkbeard had fared no better than Olaf had done. He had
made a bold attempt to burn the town, but, like Olaf, he had been
driven back to his ships with great slaughter.

On that same day the two defeated chiefs sailed away in wrath and
sorrow, and with the loss of seven ships and two thousand men.

Now, under Alfred or Athelstane such a reverse as the invaders had
met with before London would surely have been followed up by some
crushing victory. But under the wretched Ethelred there was no
attempt made to prevent the more fearful desolation of other parts
of the kingdom. Olaf and Sweyn were calmly allowed to avenge their
defeat by ravaging the coast at pleasure, and to pillage, burn and
murder without meeting the slightest resistance. At the mouth of
the Thames the two chiefs had divided their forces, Sweyn sailing
northward towards the Humber, while Olaf took his course southward,
and ravaged far and wide in the old kingdoms of Kent and Sussex.

Late in the summer, Olaf crossed into Hampshire, and now at last
King Ethelred was roused, for the invaders threatened not only the
royal city of Andover but also the royal person. The king had no
army of sufficient strength to encounter his Norse enemy, and his
navy was of still less consequence. The only course he seems to
have thought of, therefore, was the old cowardly policy of again
buying peace with gold. Olaf was allowed to anchor his fleet for
the winter at Southampton, and in order to avert any raiding into
the surrounding country, Ethelred levied a special tax upon the
people of Wessex to supply the crews with food and pay. He also
levied a general tax upon all England to raise the sum of sixteen
thousand pounds as a bribe to the invaders to quit the kingdom.

This large sum of money was conveyed to Olaf Triggvison by the king's
ambassadors, among whom was a certain Bishop Elfheah--a zealous
Christian, who, in addition to gaining Olaf's solemn promise that
he would keep the peace, took upon himself the task of converting
the young chief to the Christian faith. Olaf had already been baptized
by the good hermit of the Scillys; but he had not yet received the
rite of confirmation. He now declared that he was willing to become
entirely a Christian, and to set aside his belief in the old gods
of Scandinavia. The bishop then led Olaf to the court at Andover,
where Ethelred received him with every honour and enriched him
with royal gifts. At the confirmation of Olaf, which took place
with great pomp, King Ethelred himself was present, and even stood
sponsor.

Olaf lived for many weeks at Andover, as King Ethelred's friendly
guest, and before he left to join his ships he signed a treaty in
which he engaged never again to invade England. This promise he
faithfully kept, and for a time there was peace in the land. Ethelred
believed that he had now rid his kingdom of all danger from the
vikings. But he did not reckon with King Sweyn Forkbeard. Tempted
by the great sums of money that had been extorted from the English,
Sweyn returned again and again, and at last succeeded in expelling
Ethelred from the land. For many years Sweyn was the virtual ruler
of England, and he thus prepared the way for his son, Canute the
Mighty, who was afterwards the chosen king of the English people.

Now, while Olaf Triggvison was still the guest of King Ethelred,
there also lived at the court a certain princess named Gyda.
She was the sister of the King of Dublin, in Ireland, and she was
considered very beautiful. A great many wooers sought to wed with
her, and among others a man named Alfwin, a renowned champion and
man slayer. A day was fixed on which Gyda had promised to choose
a husband, and many high born men had come together, hoping to be
chosen. All were splendidly attired.

Olaf Triggvison, clad in a coarse, wet weather cloak with a fur
hood, stood apart with a few of his comrades, merely to look on.

Gyda went here and there among her wooers, but seemed to find none
that pleased her. But at length she came to where Olaf stood, with
his head half hidden under his fur hood. She went nearer to him,
lifted up his hood and looked long and earnestly into his eyes.

"A taller and handsomer man I have never seen," said she. "Who art
thou, and whence came you?"

"I am an outland man here," he answered; "and I am named Ole the
Esthonian."

Gyda said, "Wilt thou have me? Then will I choose thee for my
husband."

Olaf replied that he was not unwilling to take her at her word.
So they talked the matter over and, being of one mind, they were
forthwith betrothed.

Alfwin was ill content at this, and in great wrath he challenged
Olaf to fight. It was the custom of those days in England that if
any two men contended about a matter they should each bring twelve
men and dispute their rights in a pitched battle. So when these
two rivals met, Olaf gave the word to his men to do as he did. He
had a great axe, and when Alfwin attacked him with his sword, he
quickly overpowered him, and then bound him fast with ropes. In
like wise were all Alfwin's men defeated; and Olaf forced them to
depart from the land and never come back. Alfwin was a very wealthy
man, and his wealth was forfeited to Olaf. Then Olaf wedded Princess
Gyda, and went with her to Ireland, and lived in great happiness
for many days.



CHAPTER XIV: THORIR KLAKKA.


During all this time of Olaf Triggvison's wanderings Earl Hakon of
Lade continued to hold the sovereign rule in Norway, and there was
great peace in the land, with fruitful harvests and good fishing.
In his early years he was very popular for his kindliness and
generosity, his fearless courage and his great strength in battle.
But it seems that the greater power which he afterwards acquired
disturbed the fine balance of his mind, and he became deceitful,
even to his nearest friends, and cruel to a degree which presently
won for him the hatred of his people, who murmured against him in
secret while fearing to break out into open rebellion.

Earl Hakon knew nothing of the strong feelings that were rising
against him, nor did he doubt that he should enjoy his power
unmolested to the end of his days. One thought alone disturbed his
sense of security. It chanced that rumours had reached him concerning
a certain viking who called himself Ole, and who was said to have
won great renown in the realm of King Ethelred. Now Hakon was told
that this same Ole had spent his younger days in Gardarike, and he
deemed that the lad must be of the blood of the Norse kings, for
it was no secret that King Triggvi Olafson had had a son who had
fared east into Gardarike, and been nourished there at the court
of King Valdemar, and that he was called Olaf.

Earl Hakon had sought far and wide for Olaf Triggvison, but in vain.
Some men had, indeed, said that in the battle of the Jomsvikings
they had seen a young champion, named Ole the Esthonian, whose
aspect was that of the race of Harald Fairhair, and it was said
that this same champion was one of those who had been made prisoners
and put to death. But, in spite of this story, Hakon still believed
in the later rumours. He believed that the adventurous Ole the Viking
was none other than Olaf Triggvison, nor could he doubt that this
daring young rover would sooner or later lay claim to the kingdom
of Norway.

As his own popularity grew less and less, Hakon looked forward with
increasing uneasiness to the inevitable conflict. He well understood
the devotion of the Norse people to the family of Harald Fairhair,
and he now considered that his own safety could only be secured by
the death of this possible rival.

Earl Hakon had a great friend named Thorir Klakka, a man who
had been many years at viking work, and had often gone on trading
voyages to England and Ireland and other lands bordering on
the Western Sea. The earl spoke with Thorir and confided to him
his plan, bidding him go on a trading voyage to Dublin, where Ole
the Esthonian was then supposed to be living, and if it was found
that this man Ole was indeed the son of King Triggvi, or any other
offspring of the kingly stem of the north, then Thorir was either
to kill him or to entice him over to Norway where Hakon himself
would deal with him.

So without delay, Thorir went forth upon his mission, and sailed
west into Ireland. It was in the early springtime when he reached
Dublin, and he was not long in learning that Ole was then living
at the court of King Kuaran, his brother-in-law.

On a certain day Thorir was in the marketplace, buying some Irish
horses that were for sale. There was a beautiful white pony that
he greatly coveted, and he offered a high price for it. But there
was another who offered yet more--a tall young man, with long fair
hair and very clear blue eyes, who wore a very beautiful cloak of
crimson silk bordered with gold lace. Thorir at once knew him to
be a Norseman, and he also guessed that this was the man of whom
he was in search. Now the pony at last fell to Thorir's bidding.
Then Thorir took the animal by its halter and went and stood by
the side of the handsome Norseman.

"I beg you will take the pony as a gift from me," said he, speaking
in the English tongue; "for I see that you are a great lord in this
land, and such a beautiful animal is better suited to such as you
than to a mere seafarer who has little use for it."

"And why should I take such a gift from a stranger, who owes me
nothing in the world?" returned Olaf Triggvison. "The pony is yours,
my man, for you have bought it and paid for it in fair market. If
it indeed be that you have no wish to keep the animal, then I will
gladly buy it from you at the price you paid. But I cannot take it
as a free gift."

Olaf paid him his price in gold of Ethelred's coinage, and sent
the pony away in charge of one of his servants. But even when the
business was over, Thorir did not seem willing to leave, but stood
near to Olaf looking searchingly into his face.

"Why do you linger?" asked Olaf. "Is there something so very unusual
about me that you stare at me so?"

"There is much that is unusual about you, lord," answered Thorir;
"and little marvel is there that I should look upon you with
interest. Nowhere, save in my own birthland of Norway, have I ever
seen a man so tall and strong and fair."

"Certainly, there are many such men in Norway," said Olaf; "but
also there are many in these western lands; as to which witness
those who are about us here in this marketplace."

He glanced across to where his friend Kolbiorn Stallare was standing.

"There is one at your back who seems not less strong than I."

Thorir looked round at Kolbiorn, then back at Olaf. "You are well
nigh a head and shoulders taller than that one," said he; "and
there is that about you which seems to tell me you have spent the
larger part of your life in Norway."

Olaf said: "Since I was a babe in arms, I have been but once
in that land; and then only during two changes of the moon or so.
Nevertheless, I will not deny that there is indeed a vein of the
Norse blood in me, and for that reason I should be well enough
pleased to hear from you some news of what has been happening in
Norway these few summers past."

"Little is there to tell," returned Thorir; "for, since the rascally
sons of Erik Bloodaxe were driven from the land, there have been no
great wars. True it is, that Earl Sigvaldi of Jomsburg did lately
make an attempt to win dominion in Norway. He led his host of
vikings, with I know not how many battleships, against Earl Hakon;
but he was defeated with great slaughter and took to flight."

"Of that famous fight I have already had tidings," said Olaf. "I
have heard that many well known vikings were vanquished on that
day, and that Vagn Akison was the only chief who stood his ground
to the end."

Thorir looked with quick eyes into Olaf's face, and said: "Yes,
Vagn proved himself a valiant warrior in that encounter. But there
was one who was quite as brave and mighty as he--one who named
himself Ole the Esthonian. Men say that this same Ole has since
won great renown in England."

Olaf smiled, but was silent for some moments. Then at last he began
to ask many questions concerning the Upland kings, and who of them
were yet alive, and what dominion they had. Of Earl Hakon also he
asked, and how well beloved he might be in the land.

Thorir answered: "The earl is so mighty a man that he now has the
whole of Norway in his power, and none dares to speak a word but
in his praise. And yet," he added, remembering the terms of his
mission, "Earl Hakon is not all that a peaceful people would wish.
Many would prefer some other monarch if they but knew where to
find one better to their taste. A pity it is that there is no man
of the blood of King Harald Fairhair living, whom the Norsemen
could put upon the throne. None such have we to turn to; and for
this cause it would little avail any man not kingly born to contend
with Earl Hakon."

Now, when Olaf Triggvison heard these things, there came upon him
a certain impatient desire to fare across to Norway and proclaim
himself a direct descendant of Harald the Fairhaired and the rightful
heir to the throne. So on the next day he again sought out the man
Thorir, and when they had spoken together for a little while, Olaf
said:

"A long time ago, as I have heard, there was a young son of King
Triggvi Olafson who escaped with his mother, Queen Astrid, into
Sweden. Has no one heard whether that lad lived or died? Why do none
of the Norse folk seek him out and set him to reign over them in
place of this Hakon, who is neither kingly born nor kingly mannered?"

Thorir answered: "It was not for lack of trying that Queen Gunnhild
did not bring the child to his death. She pursued him far and wide;
but the gods protected him and he escaped. It is said by many men
that he fell into bondage; others say that he took refuge in Holmgard,
where King Valdemar reigns; and I have even heard it hinted that
the viking naming himself Ole the Esthonian, who has lately been
warring in England, is none other than Olaf Triggvison. Howbeit,
there now lives in Viken a woman who is said to be the widow of
King Triggvi--Astrid is her name--and she has declared that her
son Olaf is surely dead, else would he have come back to Norway of
his own accord to claim his great inheritance."

As he spoke these last words Thorir saw for the first time that
a change had come into Olaf's face, and he deemed that here truly
was the man whom Earl Hakon had sent him to entrap. Yet he held his
own counsel for a while, believing that if this were indeed Olaf
Triggvison the fact would speedily be brought to light, and that
he would soon have some chance of either putting him to death or
of beguiling him into the hands of Earl Hakon.

For many moments Olaf strode to and fro in silence. There was a new
light in his eyes, and his cheeks were flushed, and when he spoke
there was a tremor in his voice that showed how deeply this news
of his long lost mother had affected him.

"How long time is it since this woman, this Queen Astrid, came back
into Norway?" he asked.

"Many years," answered Thorir.

"Then it may be that she is already dead?" said Olaf.

But Thorir shook his head.

"That is not likely," said he, "for I saw her with my own eyes at
Yuletide past, and she was then living very happily with her husband
in Viken."

"Her husband?" echoed Olaf. "And what manner of man is he? A king
surely, for none but a king is worthy of such a wife."

"He is no king, but a wealthy man and of good kin," returned Thorir.
"His name is Lodin, and he went oft on trading voyages aboard a
ship which he owned himself. On a certain summer he made east for
Esthonia and there did much business. Now, in the marketplace of
one of the Esthonian seaports many thralls were brought for sale,
and, among other thralls who were to be sold, Lodin saw a certain
woman. As he looked upon her he knew by the beauty of her eyes
that she was Astrid, Erik's daughter, who had been wedded to King
Triggvi Olafson. And yet she was very unlike what she had been in
her earlier days, being pale now, and lean, and ill clad. So Lodin
went up to her and asked her how it fared with her, and how she
came to be in such a place, and so far away from Norway. She said:
'It is a heavy tale to tell. I am sold at thrall markets and am
brought hither now for sale,' and therewith she, knowing Lodin,
prayed him to buy her and take her back with him to her kindred
in Norway. 'I will give you a choice over that,' said he. 'I will
take you back to Norway if you will wed me.' Then Astrid promised
him so much, and he bought her and took her to Norway, and wedded
her with her kindred's goodwill."

Then Olaf said, "This is indeed the gladdest news that I have heard
for many a long year!" But the words had scarcely fallen from his
lips when he realized that he had unwittingly betrayed his long
kept secret, for why else should he look upon this as such glad
news if he were not himself the lost son of this same Queen Astrid?
And it seemed that Thorir had already guessed everything, for he
said:

"Glad news must it always be when a son hears that his mother, whom
he thought dead, is still alive."

"I did not tell you that Queen Astrid was my mother," Olaf cried
in assumed surprise.

"There was no need to tell me," returned Thorir. "For even before
I had spoken a word with you I had guessed both your name and kin.
You are the son of King Triggvi Olafson. It was you who, in your
infancy, were pursued through the land by Queen Gunnhild's spies.
It was you who, escaping from Sweden with your mother, were captured
by Esthonian vikings and sold into slavery. Then, by some chance
which I know not of, you were received at the court of King Valdemar
the Sunny. Afterwards you joined the vikings of Jomsburg and passed
by the name of Ole the Esthonian. It was you who, in the sea fight
against Earl Hakon, rivalled in skill and prowess the most famous
vikings of all Scandinavia. A pity it is that instead of going
a-warring in England you did not again direct your force against
Earl Hakon and drive him from the throne which you, and you alone
of all living men, should occupy. It is you, and not Earl Hakon,
who are the rightful king of all Norway. The realm is yours by the
right of your royal descent from King Harald Fairhair, and I make
no doubt that were you to sail into Thrandheim fiord, you would
at once be hailed by the people as their deliverer and accepted as
their sovereign king."

Thus with guileful speech and subtle flattery did Thorir Klakka
seek to entice Olaf over to Norway, to the end that Earl Hakon might
secretly waylay him and bring him to his death, and so clear his
own path of a rival whom he feared. And Olaf, listening, received
it all as the very truth, nor doubted for an instant that the people
were waiting ready to welcome him back to the land of his fathers.

There were many reasons urging him to this journey. In the first
place, his beautiful young wife, the Princess Gyda, had died very
suddenly only a few weeks after their coming to Dublin. She had
been taken off by a fever, and her death gave Olaf so much sorrow
that he found no more happiness in the home to which she had
brought him. There was all her wealth for Olaf to enjoy if he had
so wished, and he might even have become the king in Dublin. But
he had wealth of his own and in plenty, and had no great desire to
wait for the death of his brother-in-law before being raised to the
Irish kingship. There was also the thought of again joining Queen
Astrid, his mother, who had done so much for him in his infancy, and
who now, doubtless, believed him to be dead. For her sake alone,
if for no other, he wanted more earnestly than ever before to go
back to Norway. Moreover, he had heard from Thorir that the people
of Norway were still strong believers in the old gods, and in blood
sacrifice and the worship of wooden images; he had heard that Earl
Hakon was a bitter enemy of the Christians, that he forebade his
people to give hospitality to any christened man or woman; and this
knowledge had put a new ambition into Olaf's mind--the ambition
to establish the Christian faith throughout the length and breadth
of Norway.

So not many days had passed by ere he got ready five of his ships
and set sail. He took with him several Christian priests who had
followed him from England, and Thorir was in company with him.
He sailed first to the South Isles, and thence up north into the
Pentland Firth. Here he encountered a terrible storm. His seamen
were afraid, but he called upon them to put their trust in God, and
they took new courage. Yet the storm did not abate, so Olaf made
for the Orkneys, and there had shelter in a quiet haven.

Right glad were the Orkney folk to see him among them once again,
for now they deemed that he had come to fulfil his former promise
and deliver them from the oppressive rule of Earl Hakon.

Now Thorir had charged Olaf not to reveal his true name to any
man until he should be safe in Norway and sure of his success.
Accordingly the islanders regarded him as a brave viking and nothing
more. Nevertheless, they gathered round him, saying that they were
ready and willing to follow him across the sea and to help him to
drive Earl Hakon to his deserved doom. To test their fidelity Olaf
summoned a great meeting of the folk and called one of their jarls
before him. Few words were spoken before Olaf, to the surprise of
all present, declared that the jarl must let himself be christened
or that there and then he should die.

"If you and your people refuse to be baptized," Olaf said, "then
I will fare through the isles with fire and sword, and I will lay
waste the whole land!"

Thorir Klakka laughed to himself at hearing this bold threat, and
he thought how ill it would go with any man who should attempt such
a thing in Norway.

But there was something in Olaf Triggvison's nature which compelled
obedience. The Orkney jarl saw well that the threat was made in
serious earnest, and he chose to be christened.

Now this meeting of the islanders was held on the margin of one of
the lakes, where stood the heathen temple which Olaf himself had
helped to build. And now he had his men pull down this temple to the
ground, so that not a stone of it remained standing in its place.
Having thus made a semblance of banishing the old faith in Odin
and Thor, he set about teaching the greater faith in Christ. He
had in his company a certain priest named Thangbrand, a mighty man
who could wield the sword as well as any viking, and whose voice
was as the sound of thunder. Thangbrand stood up to his knees in the
lake, and as the people came out to him, one by one, he sprinkled
them with water and made upon them the sign of the cross. Thus were
all the islanders, men, women, and children, made Christians. So
when these ceremonies were over, Olaf weighed anchor and sailed
out eastward for Norway.

Ill content was Thorir Klakka at seeing with what ease Olaf Triggvison
had gained influence over these people, and how ready all men were
to follow and obey him. If his power were so strong over men who
owed him no allegiance, and who did not even know of his royal
birth, how much greater must it be over the people of Norway, whose
adherence to the family of Harald Fairhair would give them a double
reason for obeying him? If Olaf should ever set foot in Norway and
proclaim his real name then it might go far more ill with Hakon
of Lade than the earl had supposed, when he sent his friend Thorir
across to Ireland. As the ships sailed eastward across the sea Thorir
thought this matter over, and it came into his mind that it would
be better for Hakon's safety that Olaf Triggvison should never be
allowed to reach his intended destination.

On a certain night Olaf stood alone at the forward rail of his
ship, looking dreamily out upon the sea. The oars were inboard,
and there were but few men about the decks, for a good wind that
was blowing from the southwest filled the silken sails and sent
the vessel onward with a rush of snowy foam along her deep sides,
and there was no work to be done save by the man who stood at the
tiller. To the south the sea and sky were dark, but in the northern
heavens there was an arch of crimson, flickering light, from which
long trembling shafts of a fainter red shot forth into the zenith,
casting their ruddy reflections upon the waves. The gaunt, gilded
dragon at the prow stood as though bathed in fire, and the burnished
gold of Olaf's crested helmet, the rings on his bare arms, the hilt
of his sword, and the knitted chains of his coat of mail gleamed
and glanced in the red light as though they were studded with gems.

This red light, flashing in the midnight sky, was believed by the
Norsemen to be the shining of Thor's beard. But as Olaf Triggvison
now looked upon it from his ship's bow, he understood it to be a
message of hope sent from Heaven, beckoning him onward to his native
land in the north, there to avenge his father's death, to reconquer
his realm, and to reign as the first truly Christian King of Norway.
And yet as his vessel sailed on, plunging through the dashing foam,
with her prow rising and falling within the wide span of that great
rosy arch, strange doubts came over him, the old beliefs still
lingered in his mind, and he began to think that perhaps his new
learning was false, that Thor might after all be supreme in the
world, and that this red light in the sky was an evidence of his
continued power, a visible defiance of Christ.

Olaf was thinking these thoughts when, above the wailing of the
wind and the swishing of the waves, he heard, or fancied he heard,
someone walking behind him across the deck. He turned quickly. No
one could be seen; but his eyes rested upon the shadow cast by the
hilt of his sword upon the boards of the deck. The shadow was in
the form of the cross. The sign was prophetic, and in an instant
all his doubts vanished.

"Christ is triumphant!" he cried.

The words were still on his lips when he heard the creaking of
a bowstring. An arrow flashed before him, struck against the peak
of his helmet and fell at his feet upon the deck. Then he saw the
cloaked figure of a man steal quickly away into the shadow of the
sails.

Olaf picked up the arrow and examined it. By a mark upon its shaft
and the trimming of its feathers he knew it to be an arrow taken
from his own cabin. He also knew that its point was poisoned.

"Never did I suspect that I had a traitor in my following," he said
as he went aft towards his cabin. "Some man has attempted to take
my life. But whosoever he be, I shall surely find him and punish
him!"

He searched among the shadows of the bulwarks and down among the
rowers' benches, but saw no trace of his secret enemy. When he
entered his cabin he found only Thorir Klakka, lying, as it seemed,
asleep upon the floor with an empty drinking horn beside him and
breathing heavily. Olaf thought that the man had been taking over
much mead, so left him there and went out upon the deck to tell
his friend Kolbiorn of this attempt upon his life. But as soon as
Olaf was out of the cabin Thorir rose, wakeful enough now that he
was alone, and took from under him a longbow which he placed in
the rack.

"The man bears a charmed life!" muttered Thorir, "or else he has
eyes in the back of his head. Ill luck is mine! Had I but aimed a
finger's breadth lower he would now have been dead, and Earl Hakon
might have been saved the trouble of laying traps for him!"

Throughout that night Olaf was engaged searching for his unknown
enemy; but without avail. He questioned every man on board, but all
swore by the sign of the cross that they had seen nothing. For a
time Olaf was forced to suspect Thorir Klakka; but he soon dismissed
the thought. Thorir's conduct towards him had been from the time
of their first meeting so full of goodwill and seeming friendliness
that it was impossible to fix suspicion on him, and indeed there
was no man among all the ship's company who showed more concern
over this matter than did Thorir, or who made greater efforts to
discover the miscreant who had dared to attempt the life of the
well beloved chief.



CHAPTER XV: THE EVIL EARL.


Early on the next morning the ships were within sight of the high
lying coast of Norway. By Thorir's treacherous advice, Olaf had
steered his course for a part of the country where Earl Hakon's
power was greatest, and where it was expected that Hakon himself
might at that time be staying. Steering in among the skerries Olaf
made a landing on the island of Moster, in the shire of Hordaland.
Here he raised his land tent and planted in front of it the cross,
together with his own standard; and when all the men were ashore
he had his priests celebrate the mass. He met with no opposition,
for the people of the place were then busy on their fields, and
there was nothing unusual in the sight of a few peaceful ships
anchoring off their shores.

Thorir had advised a landing on this particular island because, as
it had been arranged, he knew that here he would gain private news
of Earl Hakon, and learn how he might best betray King Olaf into
Hakon's clutches. When Thorir heard, therefore, that the earl was
at Trondelag, he told Olaf that there was nothing for him to do
but to keep it well hidden who he was, and to sail northward with
all diligence, so that he might attack Earl Hakon unawares and
slay him. At the same time he sent secret word to Hakon, bidding
him prepare his plans for the slaying of Olaf Triggvison.

Believing every word that Thorir told him, and trusting in the man's
seeming honesty, Olaf accepted the advice, and fared northward day
and night until he came to Agdaness, at the mouth of the Thrandheim
fiord, and here he made a landing.

Now a great surprise was in store for Thorir Klakka. All this
time, since his setting out west to Ireland in search of Olaf, he
had rested assured that the power of Earl Hakon was unassailable,
and that the bonders, or landholders, were not only well disposed
towards him, but also ready to stand firmly by him through all dangers.
He had intentionally deceived Olaf Triggvison by representing that
the earl might easily be overthrown and his subjects as easily won
over to the side of a new king. To his great dismay he now discovered
that, while telling a wilful untruth, he had all the time been
unwittingly representing the actual condition of the country. During
the absence of Thorir from Norway, Hakon had committed certain
acts which had gained for him the hatred and contempt of the whole
nation. The peasants of Thrandheim were united in open rebellion
against him; they had sent a war summons through the countryside,
and had gathered in great numbers, intending to fall upon the Evil
Earl and slay him.

Olaf Triggvison could not, therefore, have chosen a more promising
moment for his arrival in the land. He had only to make himself
known in order to secure the immediate allegiance and homage of
the people.

When Olaf entered the mouth of the fiord with his five longships
and anchored off Agdaness, he heard that Earl Hakon was lying with
his ships farther up the firth, and also that he was at strife
with the bonders. So Olaf made no delay, but weighed anchor again
and rowed east into the sunlit fiord. He had not gone very far
when, from behind a rocky headland, three vessels of war appeared
upon the blue water, rowing out to meet him, with their red battle
shields displayed. But suddenly, as they drew nearer to him, they
turned about towards the land and fled in all haste. Olaf made no
doubt that they were Hakon's ships, so he put extra men to the oars
and bade them give chase.

Now the retreating ships were commanded, not by Earl Hakon, but
by his favourite son Erland, who had come into the fiord to his
father's help against the bonders. When Erland found that he was
being pursued a great fear came upon him lest he should be driven
farther into the fiord and into the clutches of the bonders, whom
he knew to be waiting to give him battle, so when he saw that Olaf
was coming close upon him he ran his ships aground, leapt overboard,
and straightway made for the shore.

Then Olaf brought his five ships close in upon him and assailed
him with arrows, killing many of his men as they swam to land. Olaf
saw a man swimming past who was exceedingly fair; so he caught up
the tiller, and, taking good aim, flung it at him, striking him on
the head. This man was Erland himself, and so he lost his life.

Olaf and his folk took many of the men prisoners and made them
take the peace. From them he heard the tidings that Earl Hakon had
taken flight and that all his warriors had deserted him.

Now, when this little battle was over, and Erland's ships had
been captured, Olaf Triggvison rowed yet farther into the fiord to
Trondelag, where all the chieftains and peasants were assembled.
Here he went ashore and, dressed in his finest body armour, with
his towering gold helmet and his cloak of crimson silk, walked up
into the midst of the people, attended only by his friend Kolbiorn
Stallare and two guards.

The peasants stared at him amazed, wondering what manner of great
man this was who had so suddenly appeared before them. And two of
their chieftains went forward to meet him, uncovering their heads.
One asked him his name and the reason of his coming.

"Your questions are soon answered," said he; and the clear ring of
his voice was heard even by those who stood far apart. "I am come
to offer myself to the people of this land, to defend them against
all wrong, and to uphold their laws and rights. My name is Olaf.
I am the son of King Triggvi Olafson, who was the grandson of King
Harald Fairhair."

At hearing these words the whole crowd of people arose with one
accord and rent the air with their joyous greetings, for it needed
no great proof for them to be assured that he was indeed of the
race of the old kings of Norway. Some of the elder men, seeing him,
declared that he was surely King Hakon the Good come back to earth
again, younger and fairer and nobler than he had been of yore. The
young warriors who stood near were lost in admiration of his tall
and handsome figure, of his giant strength, his large clear eyes and
long golden hair, and they envied him the splendour of his costly
armour and beautiful clothing. To follow such a man into battle,
they thought, would be worth all the glories of Valhalla.

"All hail to King Olaf!" they cried. And the cry was echoed upon
every side.

Many of those present wanted Olaf to be at once formally proclaimed
king of all Norway, but others of the more sober sort objected.

"King he shall surely be," they said. "But let him be made so
without undue haste. Let him first prove his worthiness by some
act of prowess."

"I am ready to prove it in whatsoever way you wish," said Olaf.
"What would you have me do?"

One of the chieftains then stepped in front of him and said:

"There is one thing, lord, that we would have you do; and by the
doing of it you would gain the gratitude of every man and woman in
Thrandheim."

"And what thing is that?" asked Olaf.

"It is that you shall follow in pursuit of Earl Hakon and bring
him to his bane."

"Gladly will I pursue him," returned Olaf, "if I may know what
direction he has taken, or in what part of the land I may most
surely find him."

Then the chieftain called one of the young warriors to him and
questioned him closely concerning Hakon.

The young man explained that the earl had escaped from out of
Gauldale, where he had been in hiding, and that he had gone off
attended only by a certain thrall named Kark. Men had given chase to
him, and at the edge of a deep morass they had found the footprints
of the earl's horse. Following the footprints they had come into
the middle of the morass, and there they found the horse itself
struggling in the mire, with Hakon's cloak lying near, seeming to
show that the morass had been his death.

"Earl Hakon is wily enough to have put both horse and cloak in
the morass with intent to deceive his pursuers," said one of the
bystanders. "For my own part I would stake my hopes of Valhalla
upon it that he might even now be found at the farmstead of Thora
of Rimul; for Thora is his dearest friend of all the dale folk."

Thora of Rimul sat spinning at the doorway of her home in a sheltered
dale among the hills. The birch trees were breaking out into fresh
buds, the young lambs gambolled on the flowery knolls, and the
air was musical with the songs of birds. Thora was considered the
fairest woman in all Thrandheim. Her hair was as fair as the flax
upon her spindle, and - her eyes were as blue as the clear sky
above her head. Her heart was lightsome, too; for she had won the
love of the great Earl Hakon--Hakon, the conqueror of the vikings
of Jomsburg, the proud ruler of all Norway. It was he who had given
her the gold ring that was now upon her white finger, and he had
promised her that he would make her his queen. She did not believe
that what people said of him was true--that he was black of heart,
and cruel and base. His hollow words had not sounded hollow to her
ears nor had she seen anything of deceitfulness in his eyes.

He had praised her beauty and declared that he loved her, and so
she loved him in return.

As she sat there spinning, there was a sudden commotion among the
ewes and lambs. She looked up and beheld two men standing in the
shadow of the trees. One of them presently left the other and came
towards her. He was a low browed, evil looking man, with a bushy
black beard and long tangled hair. She rose and went to meet him,
knowing him for Kark, Earl Hakon's thrall. He bade her go in among
the trees, where the earl was waiting. So she went on into the wood,
wondering why Hakon had not come forth and greeted her in the open
as was his custom.

Now, so soon as she saw him she knew that some great ill had
happened, for his hands trembled and his legs shook under him. His
eyes that she had thought so beautiful were bleared and bloodshot,
and there were deep lines about his face which she had never before
seen. It seemed to her that he had suddenly become a decrepit old
man.

"Why do you tremble so?" she asked as she took his hand.

He looked about him in fear.

"Hide me!" he cried. "Hide me! I am in danger. Shame and death
are overtaking me. The young King Olaf is in the land, and he is
hunting me down!"

"And who is the young King Olaf that he has power to fill the heart
of the great Earl Hakon with terror?" asked Thora. "You who have
vanquished the vikings of Jomsburg can surely withstand the enmity
of one weak man."

"Not so," answered Hakon in a trembling voice. "King Olaf is mightier
far than I. And he has the whole of Norway at his back, while I --
I have but this one faithful servant. Saving him alone every man
in the land is against me."

He looked round in renewed fear. Even the rustling of the tree
branches struck terror to his heart.

"Hide me! hide me!" he cried again.

"Little use is there in hiding you in this place," returned Thora.
"King Olaf will be seeking you here before very long, for many men
know that I would fain help you, and they will surely lead him here
and search for you in my household both within and without. Yet,
for the love I bear you, Earl Hakon, I will indeed hide you so that
neither shame nor death shall come near you."

She led him through among the trees to the back of the steadings.
"There is but one place where I deem that King Olaf will not think
of seeking for such a man as you," she said; "and that is in the
ditch under the pig sty."

"The place is not one that I would have chosen," said Hakon. "But
we must take heed to our lives first of all."

Then they went to the sty, which was built with its back against a
large boulder stone. Kark took a spade and cleared away the mire,
and dug deep until by removing many stones and logs he opened up
a sort of cave. When the rubbish had been borne away Thora brought
food and candles and warm rugs. Earl Hakon and the thrall hid
themselves in the hole and then Thora covered them over with boards
and mould, and the pigs were driven over it.

Now, when evening was falling there came along the strath certain
horsemen, and the leader of them was King Olaf Triggvison. Thora of
Rimul saw them coming, with the light of the setting sun glittering
on their armour, and when they halted at her door she greeted them
in good friendship.

King Olaf dismounted and asked her if she knew ought of Earl Hakon
of Lade. At sight of the handsome young king she for a moment
hesitated, thinking to betray the earl. But when Olaf asked her
again she shook her head and said that she was not Earl Hakon's
keeper, nor knew where he might be.

Nevertheless, King Olaf doubted her, and he bade his followers make
a search within and without the farmstead. This they did, but none
could find trace of the man they sought. So Olaf called all his
men about him to speak to them, and he stood up on the same boulder
stone that was at the back of the swine sty. He declared in a loud
voice that he would give a great reward and speedy furtherance to
the man who should find Earl Hakon and bring him to his death.

Now, this speech was plainly heard by both Earl Hakon himself and
his thrall as they crouched together in the cave, and by the light
of the candle that stood on the ground between them each eagerly
watched the other's face.

"Why are you so pale, and now again as black as earth?" asked Earl
Hakon. "Is it not that, tempted by this offer of reward, you intend
to betray me?"

"Nay," answered Kark. "For all King Olaf's gold I will not betray
you."

"On one and the same night were we both born," said the earl, "and
we shall not be far apart in our deaths."

For a long time they sat in trembling silence, mistrustful of each
other, and neither daring to sleep. But as the night wore on Kark's
weariness got the better of him, but he tossed about and muttered
in his sleep. The earl waked him and asked what it was that he had
been dreaming.

Kark answered, rubbing his eyes: "I dreamt that we were both on
board the same ship, and that I stood at the helm as her captain."

"That must surely mean that you rule over your own destiny as well
as mine," said Earl Hakon. "Be faithful to me, therefore, and when
better days come you shall be well rewarded."

Again Kark curled himself up to sleep, and again, as it seemed, he
was disturbed by dreams; so Hakon roused him once more and asked
him to tell his dream.

"I thought I was at Lade," answered the thrall, "and there I saw
King Olaf Triggvison. He spoke to me, and I thought that he laid
a gold necklace about my neck."

"The meaning of that must be that Olaf Triggvison will put a
blood red ring about your neck whensoever ye meet," said the earl.
"Therefore beware of him, Kark, and be faithful to me. Then you
will enjoy good things from me always, as you have done before; so
betray me not."

Thereafter they both sat wakeful, staring at each other with the
flickering candlelight between them. Neither dared to close his
eyes. But towards morning Earl Hakon leaned back against the rock,
with his head thrown back. Sleep overwhelmed him, yet he was troubled,
for he started and rolled uneasily as though in a nightmare, and at
times he moaned and muttered as if in anguish, so that Kark could
not look upon him but with horror. At last, when the earl was quiet,
Kark sprang up, gripped a big knife from out of his belt and thrust
it into his master's throat.

That was the bane of Earl Hakon.

On the next day Olaf Triggvison was in Lade, and there came to him
a man naming himself Kark, bringing with him the severed head of
Earl Hakon, which he offered to the king. When Olaf had received
proof that the head was indeed that of the earl, he asked Kark how
he had come by it, and the thrall told all that had befallen and
claimed his reward.

Now King Olaf hated a traitor beyond all men, so he had Kark led
away, and ordered one of his berserks to smite the head off him,
thus fulfilling the murdered earl's prophecy, for a ring not of
gold but of blood was put about the traitor's neck.

King Olaf then fared with many of the bonders out to Nid holm. This
island, at the mouth of the river Nid, was kept in those days for
the slaying of thieves and evil men, and a gallows stood there upon
which the head of Earl Hakon was now hung, side by side with that
of his thrall. The bonders crowded round the foot of the gallows,
throwing stones and clods of earth at the heads, and crying out
that there they fared meetly together, rascal by rascal.

And now that Earl Hakon was dead the people did not shrink from
speaking their minds concerning him, and giving free vent to their
hatred of his low cunning and his faithlessness, his cruelty and
his profligacy. Even his zeal for blood offering and his strong
belief in the pagan gods were now regarded with wide disfavour, for
it could not be forgotten that he had sacrificed his own son to
propitiate the god of war, and this act, added to the evil deeds that
he had more recently committed had brought upon him such contempt
that the whole of Norway rejoiced at his death.

Olaf Triggvison's claim to the throne of Norway was not for a moment
disputed. In the first place his manly beauty and his resemblance
to King Hakon the Good gained him immediate favour, and his personal
strength and prowess might have been in itself sufficient to warrant
his being chosen as a successor to Earl Hakon. But in addition to
this there was the undoubted fact that he was a direct descendant
of Harald Fairhair, and had therefore the greatest of all claims to
the kingdom in which his fathers had reigned. So, very soon after
the death of Hakon, a general Thing, or gathering of the people,
was held in Trondelag, and Olaf was formally proclaimed the king
of all Norway, and the rule given to him according to ancient laws.

The district of Thrandheim was at that time the most populous and
important in the land, and the Thranders had exercised the right (a
right which they reserve to this day) of proclaiming a new monarch
in the name of the whole nation. Nevertheless it was necessary for
King Olaf to travel throughout the country to lay personal claim
to his dominion, and to receive the allegiance of his subjects
remote and near. The news of his coming into Norway was not long
in reaching the farthest extremities of the realm. Everywhere it
was told how, having by help of his mother's bravery escaped the
wrath of the wicked Queen Gunnhild, he had lived as a slave in
Esthonia, how he had been rescued by Sigurd Erikson and educated
at the court of King Valdemar, how he had roved as a viking on the
Baltic, and, after invading England, had at last come back to his
native land to claim his own. So that wherever he journeyed he
found that his fame had gone before him to prepare the way. He was
greeted everywhere with enthusiastic homage. His natural kindliness,
his manly bearing, and his winning manners attracted everyone with
whom he came in contact, and he was recognized as a king of whom the
nation might well be proud. In token of the glory that he had won
in foreign lands the people gave him the name of Olaf the Glorious.



CHAPTER XVI: THE CHRISTENING OF NORWAY.


King Olaf's first thought on ascending the throne of Norway was that
he would make it his mission to convert the country to Christianity.
This had been once before attempted by his own uncle, King Hakon
the Good, the foster son of Athelstane of England; but Hakon the
Good was a weak man, who, instead of winning his people to the
true faith, had allowed himself to drift back into paganism. Olaf
was by nature better fitted for the task, being zealous in the
faith and strong in the conviction of the sanctity of his cause.
He resolved to stand firm against all opposition, and if gentle
persuasion should not avail he would have no scruple in employing
physical force. To abolish the custom of blood sacrifice, to destroy
all heathen temples, and to supplant the worship of the pagan gods
by preaching the gospel of Christ--this was to be his life work.

He was, however, wise enough to recognize that in order to succeed
in his mission it was necessary for him first to make his own
position as monarch perfectly secure and unassailable. So rapidly
did he establish himself in the hearts of the people that even
at the end of the first summer he found that he might with safety
begin his task. His one possible rival and natural enemy, Earl
Erik Hakonson, with some few others of the kin of the late earl,
had fled in fear from the land, leaving him in absolute possession;
and the lords of Viken and other districts of the south, who had
hitherto held their lands of the King of Denmark, now became King
Olaf's men, and paid him homage and tribute.

At this time Olaf could only depend upon his priest Thangbrand
for practical help. Thangbrand was a Saxon who had formerly been
attached to the see of Canterbury. He was a man of very violent
temper, and his readiness to enter a quarrel and to draw his sword
must have made him a very singular exponent of the gospel of peace.
Olaf saw very soon that he would require further help than this
pugnacious priest could give; so he sent Thangbrand over to England,
bidding him fare to Canterbury and bring back with him as many holy
men as might be willing to serve him as missionaries.

Meanwhile King Olaf, with some of his chosen companions, journeyed
south into Viken, where his mother lived with her husband Lodin
-- the same who had bought her out of her bondage. There he abode
throughout the winter among his own kindred as well as many who
had been great friends with his father. They welcomed him with very
great love.

And now, while the king was living with his friends in quiet
comfort and homeliness, he laid his plans most earnestly before
them, craving that they should help him with all their might. He said
that he intended to have the Christian faith set forth throughout
all his realm, and that he would bring about the christening of
Norway or else die in the endeavour. Accordingly he began by going
about in Viken, bidding the peasants take baptism, so it came
to pass that the district which his father, Triggvi, had formerly
ruled over was the first part of Norway to receive the true faith.

He was still in Viken when at the end of the winter Thangbrand
returned from England with a company of priests. Among them was
a certain Bishop Sigurd, a man of grave and gentle spirit, most
learned and eloquent, who stood at Olaf's right hand during the
whole five years of his reign.

Now Bishop Sine, of Canterbury, had presented Thangbrand with a
very costly and curiously wrought shield. It was made of burnished
bronze, inlaid with gold and precious stones, and it bore the image
of the crucified Christ. Olaf admired this shield and desired to
buy it. Thangbrand loved money more than ornament, and he sold the
shield to the king for a very large sum. Finding himself suddenly
rich, the priest went off to enjoy himself. He fell into a drunken
brawl with a certain viking, who challenged him to fight. A desperate
duel was fought and the viking was killed. Great ill feeling was
aroused against Thangbrand by this unpriestly incident, and he went
back full of penitence to King Olaf.

Olaf foresaw that he would have trouble with this man, and he would
no longer bear to have him about his house; so, to get rid of him,
he sent him on a mission to Iceland, to convert the heathen there.
Thangbrand was absent in Iceland for three winters, and although
he had great success and brought the country to the true faith,
yet he was not well liked, and the people vexed him by making songs
about him. Here, as in Norway, he was boisterous and boastful and
over fond of the drinking horn. It is told that in a quarrel with
the islanders he slew three men. Howbeit, he was obliged to return
to Norway with his mission only half fulfilled.

King Olaf met with no opposition in his endeavour to convert the
people of Viken and Agder. In the district of Ringarike he christened
a certain little boy, the son of Harald Groenske, who was of the
race of Harald Fairhair. The king named the boy Olaf, and in giving
him his blessing said that he would one day be a very great man.
This same Olaf Haraldson afterwards became the King of Norway and
a very great evangelist. He is known in history by the title of
Olaf the Saint, and he is to this day regarded as the patron saint
of Norway. He fought many battles in England, and, for this reason
perhaps, he is often wrongly confused with his godfather, Olaf
Triggvison.

To tell of all the good and ill happenings that King Olaf met with
in his progress through the land would make a long story. In many
districts he had but to announce his mission, and the people at once
yielded. In other places the people were very slow to understand
that there could be any advantage in changing their religion; but
Olaf never left them before every man and woman had been christened.
Often, however, he was met by bands of armed men who declared
that they would sooner die than consent to give up their old faith
in Odin and Thor, and then the king enforced his doctrines at the
point of the sword, or even by torture. When moved to anger he
was guilty of committing cruelties which in his calmer moments he
sorely regretted, but it is to be supposed that he never took to
violent measures unless when very severely provoked. For the most
part he generally found that wise words were a better argument than
either the sword or fire.

Always when he came to a place where the people were still pagan
it was his custom to summon a great meeting, and then he would tell
of how the folk of another district had accepted Christianity and
torn down their sacrificing houses, and now believed in the true
God, who shaped heaven and earth and knew all things. Then perhaps
he would fall into argument with one of the leading men of the place
and show how the God of christened men was almighty, and how Thor
and Odin must therefore be rejected.

On one such occasion a chief named Gudbrand answered him thus:

"We do not know about whom you are talking, O king. Do you call
him God whom neither you nor any other man can see? We have a god
whom we may see every day, but he is not out today because the
weather is so wet. He will look terrible and great to you, and
fear will creep into your breast if he comes to the gathering of
our people."

The king then asked how their god was made, and Gudbrand answered
that he was made in the image of Thor, that he had a hammer in
his hand, was of large size and hollow inside, and that there was
a platform made under him on which he stood when outside the temple.

Olaf said, "I would very much like to see that god. But for my own
part I have made up my mind never to believe in logs and stones,
though they be in the shape of fiend or man, whose power I do not
understand; and although I have been told that they have great
power, yet it seems to me very unlikely, for I find that those images
which are called gods are in every way uglier and less powerful
than myself. How much less powerful are they therefore than the
great God who rules over the whole universe, who makes the rain to
fall and the sun shine!"

"If, as you say, your God is so powerful, then let him send sunshine
tomorrow and not rain as we have today," said Gudbrand.

On the next day, as it chanced, there was no rain, and when the
people were all gathered together in the early dawn Bishop Sigurd
rose in his gown, with a mitre on his head and a crozier in his
hand, and preached to the peasants and told them many tokens which
God had shown. And presently King Olaf saw a crowd of men approaching,
carrying a large image, ornamented all over with gold and silver.
The people all stood up and bowed to the monster, which was placed
in the middle of the meeting place.

"Where is your God now, O king?" cried Gudbrand, rising and addressing
Olaf. "It seems to me that your boasting, and that of the horned
man, whom you call your bishop, is far less than yesterday. It is
because our god, who rules all, has come, and looks on you with
keen eyes. And I see that you are full of terror at sight of him!
Now throw off this new superstition of yours--this belief in a
God who cannot be seen--and acknowledge the greatness of Thor!"

King Olaf whispered to Kolbiorn, who was at his side: "If during
my speech it happens that the people look away from this idol of
theirs," said he, "then go you forward and strike the thing a lusty
blow with your club."

And aloud he said: "The god with whom you have threatened us is
blind and deaf and can help neither himself nor others; nor can
he move anywhere from his place unless he be carried. Of what use
is such a god? Now look into the east!" he added, pointing to the
rising sun. "Behold! There comes the messenger of our God, bringing
light and warmth into the world!"

The people all turned with their faces to the sun. At the same
moment Kolbiorn raised his club and struck their god so that the
image fell to pieces; and it is said that vipers and rats and mice
ran out of it and that the peasants were afraid.

"You see what has become of your god!" cried King Olaf. "What folly
it is to believe in such things! One blow has shattered your Thor
into fragments. Now I demand that you shall never again make images
of wood or stone, nor worship any but the one true God. And I offer
you two choices. Either you accept Christianity here on this spot,
or you fight a battle with me today."

So the people, unwilling to take to arms and seeing that the king
had a great host of warriors at his back, agreed to listen to the
teachings of the bishop, and finally to have themselves baptized.
Olaf left a priest among them to keep them steadfast in the faith,
and to keep them from lapsing into paganism.

King Olaf stood north along the land, christening all folk wheresoever
he came. But in the wintertime he went back into Trondelag. He built
a town on the bank of the river Nid, and a great hall for himself
up above Ship Creek. He called the town Nidaros, and it is to this
day the capital of Norway, although its name has been changed to
Trondhjem, or Drontheim.

Now on a certain winter's night the king had been feasting in his
hall. His guests had been drinking deeply, and the gray haired scalds
had been singing and reciting until a late hour. But at last Olaf
was left alone beside the fire, with the doors locked. He sat in his
oaken chair gazing into the glowing wood upon the hearth. Suddenly
the door swung wide open, and a blast of cold night air came in.
He looked round and saw upon the threshold a very old man whose
cloak was sprinkled with snow. Olaf saw that the stranger had but
one eye.

"Oh, pale and shivering graybeard!" cried the king. "Come, warm
your vitals with this cup of spiced ale. Be not afraid. Sit here
at my side in the light of the flames."

The aged guest obeyed, quaffed the foaming draught, and then stretched
out his withered hands before the fire. Then he began to speak to
the king and to tell him of things that had happened many hundreds
of years before and of many lands whose very names were strange to
the king. And it seemed that he would never bring his tale to an
end.

At last Bishop Sigurd entered and reminded Olaf that the night was
far spent and that it was time for him to go to sleep. But still
the guest spoke on, and the king listened enthralled until sleep
came over him and his head fell back. Yet even in his sleep he
fancied that he still heard the old graybeard's voice telling him
of the gods of Asgard and the glories of Valhalla.

When King Olaf awoke he was alone before the black hearth, and it
was full morning. He asked after the guest and bade his men call
him; but nowhere could the guest be found, nor had any man seen
him. They found the doors securely locked, the watchdog was asleep
in the yard, and the snow bore no trace of footprints. All declared
that no such stranger had ever entered the hall, and that the king
had but been dreaming.

Then Olaf called the bishop to his side and, crossing himself,
said:

"It is no dream that I have had. I know that my guest will never
return, and yet I know that he was here. The triumph of our faith
is sure. Odin the Great is dead, for the one eyed stranger was his
ghost!"

So certain was King Olaf that the power of Odin was broken that
after this time he was less eager to follow up his mission, for
he believed that he had already established the Christian faith.
He said to his bishop that all the old gods were no more and that
Christ alone was supreme.

"Not yet is it so," answered the bishop, "for Thor still reigns
among the sea rovers of the far north. I have heard that there
lives a great viking in Salten fiord who is skilled in sorcery. A
wizard he is, for he has power over the wind and the sea, and he
and his great horde of heathens still worship Odin and Thor and
offer them blood sacrifice. Rand is his name, and he is chief over
all the Godoe Isles."

Roused from his apathy, Olaf declared that he would conquer this
bold viking and bring him to christening or himself be conquered.
So he got together his ships and sailed into the north.

At the mouth of Salten fiord he encountered foul weather, and was
forced to lie there storm stayed for many days. So long did the
storm continue that at length he questioned the bishop, asking if
he knew any remedy.

Bishop Sigurd answered that it was surely Rand the Wizard who, by
his sorcery, had caused the winds to blow, and he ascended to the
ship's forecastle and raised a large crucifix, lighting tapers
around it and sprinkling holy water about the decks. It is told
that the storm abated near to the ships while it still roared wildly
some distance away from them. The lashed waves stood like a wall
on either side, leaving a track of calm water, through which the
vessels sailed.

When at last King Olaf came abreast of Rand's stronghold he saw the
viking's dragonship lying at anchor in the bay. It was the largest
and most splendid ship that he had ever seen. The king landed
with his priests and fighting men, and went straightway up to the
wizard's homestead and broke open the door. Rand was taken prisoner
and bound hand and foot, as were also a great many of his men.

King Olaf had the viking brought before him, and bade him take
christening.

"I will not take your possessions and your riches from you," said
the king, "but will be your friend if you will be worthy thereof,
and accept the true faith."

But Rand cried out at him, saying that nothing would induce him to
believe in Christ. He blasphemed so much that Olaf became wrothful
and said that Rand should die the worst of deaths. This threat had
no effect upon the blasphemer. So, according to the legend, he was
taken and tied to a tree. A gag was set between his teeth to open
his mouth, and a live adder was forced down his throat. The adder
cut its way through his side, killing him with its poison.

This cruel act has always been regarded as a blot upon the fame
of Olaf Triggvison, but Olaf's fanaticism led him to believe that
praise rather than blame was due to him for thus punishing the
enemies of God. Moreover, this man Rand had been the terror of
all peaceful men. He had laid waste many villages, and made human
sacrifices to the pagan gods. In bringing him to his death Olaf
was, in his own way, but giving just punishment to a criminal.

King Olaf took very great wealth from Rand's stronghold, and all
the men who had been in the viking's service were allowed to go free
on condition that they would first be christened. The dragonship
which Rand had commanded now became King Olaf's property, for it
was the most beautiful vessel in all Norway, and very much larger
than the Crane, which Olaf had had built for himself. Forward at
the prow there was a very tall dragon's head, overlaid with thick
gold, and at the stern was a long dragon's tail, also of gold. When
the sails were aloft they took the form of dragon's wings. The king
named the ship the Serpent.

While Olaf was in Halogaland he deemed it well to sail yet farther
north; so he fared out to the Lafoden Isles, and thence along the
coasts of Finmark as far even as the North Cape. He baptized all
those regions and destroyed many heathen temples and established
Christianity far and wide.

In that same summer King Olaf was back again in the Thrandheim
country, and had his fleet anchored off Nidaros. Now it was in this
part of Norway that Earl Hakon's power had always been greatest,
and so zealous had Hakon been in the keeping up of pagan customs
that many of the chief men of those parts withstood all King Olaf's
efforts to win them over to Christianity, and during his absence
in Halogaland these men did all they could to undo the good work
that he had done in the earliest days of his reign.

Not many days had Olaf been back in Nidaros when he heard that the
Thranders had re-established their temples, restored their idols,
and offered blood sacrifice to their gods. The young king was
so disturbed in mind over this that he resolved to put a speedy
stop to it. He therefore sent his messengers through all the lands
bordering on Thrandheim fiord summoning a great meeting of the
bonders at a place named Frosta.

Now the bonders quickly guessed the meaning of this summons. They
knew that the king would have them abandon their old customs and
accept the new faith. But they considered that he had no right to
dictate to them; so they turned this summons into one of war, and
drew together, both thane and thrall, from all parts of Thrandheim.

When King Olaf came to the meeting, thither also had come the hosts
of the bonders, all fully armed, ready to confront him.

When the Thing was established the king rose and spoke before his
lieges, first concerning matters of peace and law, and finally he
bade them take christening again.

There was one among the bonders named Skeggi Ironbeard, a very
rich farmer who cared little for king or earls, but loved only
the freedom of his farm, his ale at night, and the warmth of his
fireside. He was a huge and cumbersome man with an iron gray beard,
and as he stood by the side of his horse his feet were seen to be
covered with the mud of his ploughed fields. Near him there was a
beautiful girl with very black hair and dark brown eyes. She was
his daughter Gudrun.

Well, when King Olaf began to rebuke the people for having gone
back from Christian worship, many men looked round at Ironbeard
with wise glances.

"Now hold your peace, O king!" cried he, addressing Olaf. "Say not
another word of this Christian faith of yours, or, by the hammer
of Thor and by the ravens of Odin, we will fall upon you and drive
you away out of the land. Thus did we with King Hakon the Good,
nor do we account you of a whit more worth than him."

So when King Olaf saw with what fierce minds the bonders confronted
him, and how great a force of armed men there were, he felt that
he was not prepared to withstand them, and he so turned his speech
that it appeared he was at one accord with them.

"It is my wish," said he, "that we make peace and good fellowship
together, even as we have hitherto done. I am willing, therefore,
to be present at your worship at any time, and to witness your greatest
ceremony of blood offering. We may then take counsel together and
consider which form of worship shall prevail."

Then the bonders thought that the king might easily be persuaded
to adopt their old time customs, and their indignation against him
was appeased. Thereafter all the talk went peacefully, and at the
last it was determined that a great midsummer feast of offering
should be held at Mere, and thither should come all the lords of
the land and chiefs of the bonders. King Olaf promised also to be
present.

When it wore towards the time appointed for the sacrifice, Olaf
gave a great feast at Lade, to which were invited all the chieftains
and most powerful land owners of the country side. The guests were
royally entertained, and when the feast was over the king ordered
his priests to celebrate the mass. A crowd of armed men from Olaf's
ships attended the service. The guests saw that they were powerless
to resist, so they joined in the worship and awaited the course of
events.

When the service was at an end the king rose and addressed his
guests. He said:

"When we held Thing the last time, at Frosta, you will remember
that I demanded of the peasants that they should accept baptism;
and they, on the other hand, demanded that I should join them in
sacrifice and make blood offering, even as my kinsman King Hakon
the Good had done. I made no objection to this, but promised to be
present at the sacrificial feast at Mere. Now I wish to tell you
that if I am to make human sacrifice, then I will make the greatest
offering of blood that has ever been made in Norway. I will offer
human sacrifice to Odin and Frey for good crops and fine weather.
But, mind you, it will not be thralls and evildoers that I shall
offer to your gods. I will sacrifice the most high born men among
you."  He then pointed to several of his guests in turn, saying,
"You, Ligra of Middlehouse, shall be offered as a sacrifice; and
you, Kar of Griting; and you, Haldor of Skerding."

Eight other of the nobles he named, and bade them prepare themselves
for death. They all stood back aghast. King Olaf laughed at their
craven fears.

"Plainly do I see that you do not relish this proposal," he said.
"But if I am to be king in this land I will be obeyed. I have
commanded that Norway shall be a Christian land, and I shall have
it so, even if I lose my own life in bringing it about. Here is
my bishop, ready to baptize you. Take christening, therefore, and
you shall still live. Refuse, and you shall surely be sacrificed
in the manner I have said."

Not long did they meditate before choosing the easier alternative.
They agreed to be christened there and then, and Bishop Sigurd at
once baptized them, and all the bonders who were present. Before
they were allowed to depart King Olaf demanded that they should
give him their sons or brothers as hostages. Thus by a peaceful
stratagem he gained his ends.

Now, when the time arrived for the midsummer sacrifice at Mere,
Olaf went thither with a great host of followers. But such of
the peasants and land owners who had still resisted Christianity,
gathered once more, armed to the teeth and defiant as ever. Skeggi
Ironbeard was the ringleader of the pagans, and he was everywhere
active in the forefront of the opposition.

The king attempted to speak, but the tumult was so great that no
one could hear him. At last, when he got a hearing, he repeated
his commands that all present should accept baptism and believe in
Christ the White.

Ironbeard stepped forward, sword in hand, and, confronting the
king, said:

"Now, as before, O king, we protest against your interference with
our liberty, and we are here to prevent your breaking our laws and
ancient customs. It is held as a sacred custom among us that we
shall make sacrifices to our gods, and we now hold that, although
you are our king, you have no power to decide which gods we are to
believe in, or in what manner we shall worship. It is our intention,
therefore, that you shall make blood offering here as other kings
have done before you."

King Olaf listened patiently to this speech and declared himself
ready to keep his promise. So, accompanied by many of his men, he
entered the temple.

It was a very large and splendid building. The door was of
beautifully carved oak, and the handle was in the form of a large
gold ring which Earl Hakon had had put there. In the inside there
were two great rooms, the first or outer one being the chamber in
which feasts of sacrifice were held; the inner one was the more
sacred, for here the images of the heathen gods stood on their
various altars. The walls were hung with tapestries and adorned
with costly metals and precious stones. Even the roof was covered
with gold plates.

All who entered were unarmed, for no one was allowed to go through
the door bearing a sword or other weapon. But the king carried a
stout stick with a heavy gold head. He watched the bonders preparing
the pyre for the sacrifice, but before it was lighted he went into
the inner chamber and inspected the images of the gods. There sat
the figure of Thor, chief among all, with his hammer in his hand
and gold and silver rings about him. He was in a chariot of gold,
into which were harnessed a pair of goats made of wood and silver.

"What god is this one?" asked Olaf of the bonders who stood near
him.

"It is our god Thor," answered one of the chieftains. "He is the
most celebrated of all gods, saving only Odin. His eyes flash in
the lightning, the wheels of his carriage rumble in the thunder,
and the blows of his hammer ring loud in the earthquake. The most
powerful of all gods is he."

"And yet," said Olaf; "it seems to me that he is made of nothing
more strong than wood. You call him powerful; but I think even I
am more powerful than he."

As he spoke these words he hove up his gold headed stick, and while
all were looking, he smote Thor a great blow, so that he fell down
from his seat and tumbled to fragments upon the stone floor. At
the same instant Olaf's men struck down the other idols, while at
the temple door Ironbeard was assailed and slain.

Olaf took possession of many of the treasures of the temple, and
then razed the building to the ground. And none of the bonders
dared to oppose him. After the death of Ironbeard they had no leader
bold enough to encounter the king and his men. So the end of it
was that they all forsook their heathenish customs and yielded to
the king's demands that they should take christening.

After this time King Olaf had no more trouble in Thrandheim, and
in the whole of Norway no man dared to speak a word against the
faith of Christ. In all places where the temples had been destroyed,
the king had Christian churches built. He instituted monasteries
throughout the land, governed by bishops and abbots brought over
from Rome and Canterbury. From these monasteries many missionaries
were sent out into the remoter parts of the country to preach the
gospel and to hold the people firmly to the faith. Never again, so
long as King Olaf lived, did the Norwegians attempt to return to
paganism, and after his death his good work was taken up by his
godson and namesake, Olaf the Saint.



CHAPTER XVII: SIGRID THE HAUGHTY.


Now, although the peasants of Thrandheim yielded to King Olaf in the
matter of their faith and the forms of their religious ceremonies,
yet they were none the less enraged against him on account of
the destruction of their beautiful temple and the slaying of Iron
Skeggi. This man had been a great chief among them, much honoured
for his bodily strength, for his wealth, and for his spirit
of independence. Some of his nearer kin had even looked upon the
possibility of his being a successor to the great Earl Hakon, and
accordingly they regarded Olaf Triggvison as an interloper, who had
come to spoil all their hopes of worldly advancement. When their
favourite was slain they therefore cast about to find some pretext
for either picking a quarrel with King Olaf or of forcing him
to make some atonement for the wrong that he was supposed to have
done them. And then they thought of Ironbeard's daughter, Gudrun,
and of what a good thing it would be for them if the king could
be made to wed her. So on a certain day they took Gudrun to where
King Olaf was and made their proposals to him.

King Olaf looked at the girl and thought her very fair of feature.
Her hair was black as charred wood, and her cheeks were rosy red;
but there was an evil glance in her dark eyes that mispleased him.
Yet he saw that it was good that there should be a queen in Norway,
and urged by his bishop, he allowed himself to be betrothed to Gudrun.
It was arranged that they should be wedded at the next yuletide.

In the midwinter King Olaf gave a great bridal feast to his friends
in his new banqueting hall at Nidaros. His bishops and priests
were there, as also his chief captains and warmen, his scald and
his saga men. His mother, Queen Astrid, was at his right hand,
while at the other side of him sat Gudrun. The fare was of the best,
both food and drink, and there was much merriment around the board,
with singing of songs and playing of harps, making of riddles and
jests and telling of stories; and of all the company the king was
the merriest and the lightsomest. No story was for him too long, nor
song too boisterous, nor ale too strong. As often as his drinking
horn was emptied, it was filled again to the brim by his cup bearer,
and always before he quaffed it he made over it the sign of the
cross.

Brightly gleamed the firelight upon helmet and shield and spear,
but brighter gleamed the gladness in the young king's eyes; for
his realm was now assured to him, his mission was fulfilled, and
his glory was complete. It seemed to him that there would now be
a lasting peace in the land, with good fellowship among all his
subjects, and no more bloodshed or quarrelling or discontent for
ever after. He was to wed with Gudrun upon the morrow, and this,
he believed, was to be the crown of his happiness.

Now, as the night wore late, and the festivities flagged, the guests
rose from the board, and either departed to their several rooms or
drew their cloaks about them and lay upon the side benches of the
hall, and at length King Olaf was left alone at the table. Very soon
he too fell asleep and lay back in his high backed chair, dreaming
peaceful dreams. At his feet lay Einar Eindridson, a sturdy lad
of sixteen years, whom Olaf had adopted as his favourite page and
cup bearer, even as he himself had been adopted by King Valdemar.
Between the folds of the silken curtains that overhung the open
air spaces in the wall the light of the full moon came in, falling
upon King Olaf's handsome face and long golden hair. The sapphires
and diamonds studding the band of gold about his head shone out like
glittering stars in the pale light. The cross of blood red rubies
that hung from his neck chain rose and fell with the regular heaving
of his broad chest on which it rested.

All was dark in the hall, save for that one shaft of moonlight.
All was silent, save for the crackling of the dying embers on the
hearth and the heavy breathing of the men who lay asleep upon the
benches and about the rush strewn floor. But as King Olaf slept
there came a movement at the far end of the hall, where the darkness
was deepest.

Presently a woman's figure glided slowly and cautiously into the
fuller light. Her black shadow moved across the floor and crept
nearer and nearer to the sleeping king, until at last it halted,
shielding his closed eyes. She stood before him. Suddenly her
right hand went to her bosom, and she drew forth a long glittering
dagger. She stood over him, holding her hand aloft, ready to strike
the fatal blow.

"Your hour is at hand, proud king!" she murmured; and her voice
sounded through the hail like the soughing of the wintry wind among
the pines. "Your hour is at hand, Olaf Triggvison. Never shall my
warm lips touch yours. Cold steel shall kiss you now."

She stepped back a pace, so that the moonlight, falling upon him,
might show her where to strike. As she did so the hem of her long
robe swept across the face of young Einar. The boy awoke and leapt to
his feet. He saw a white arm upraised; he saw the gleaming dagger
poised over his master's breast. Quick as an arrow's flight the
blade flashed to its mark. But quicker still was Einar. In that
instant he had caught the white arm in his two strong hands, staying
the fatal blow, so that the dagger's point but struck against the
ruby cross and did no harm.

The scuffling of feet, the clatter of the dagger upon the floor,
and the woman's cry of alarmed surprise awoke the king. Starting
from his seat he caught his assailant and held her in the light of
the moon. He gazed into her pale and terror stricken face. It was
the face of Gudrun.

Then Olaf besought Einar to tell him all that had happened, and
Einar picked up the dagger and gave it to his master, telling him
how Gudrun had attempted to slay him.

With the earliest peep of dawn Gudrun went forth upon her lonely
way, and never again did she come under the same roof with King
Olaf.

At this time there lived in Sweden a certain queen named Sigrid.
She was the widow of King Erik the Victorious and the mother of King
Olaf the Swede. She was very rich and possessed many great manors
in Sweden and large landed estates among the islands of the Baltic.
Many of the kings of Scandinavia sought to wed with her, wishing
to share her wealth and add her dominions to their own. But Sigrid,
who, by reason of her great pride and the value that she set upon
her own charms, was named Sigrid the Haughty, would have none of
them, although often enough she welcomed them as wooers and listened
to their fine speeches and their flatteries.

One king there was who wooed her with such ardour that she resolved
to rid herself of him at all costs. His name was Harald Groenske
(the father of Saint Olaf), and, as he was of the kin of King
Harald Fairhair, he considered himself in all respects her equal.
Three several times did he journey into Sweden to pay court to
her. On the third time he found that there was another wooer at
her manor house, one King Vissavald of Gardarike. Both kings were
well received, and lodged in a great hall with all their attendant
company. The hall was a very old building, as was all its furniture,
but there was no lack of good fare. So hospitable, indeed, was
Queen Sigrid, that, ere the night was half spent, the two suitors
and all their men were drunk, and the guards slept heavily.

In the middle of the night Queen Sigrid surrounded the hall with
dry faggots and set a lighted torch to them. The hall was quickly
burned to the ground, and all who were within it lost their lives.

"I will teach these little kings what risks they run in wooing me!"
said the queen, as from her chamber window she watched the rising
flames.

Now Queen Sigrid grew weary of waiting for the coming of a king
whom she could consider in all ways worthy of her. Her eyes were
lustreless, and her hair was besprinkled with gray, and yet the
right man did not offer himself. But in good time she heard of King
Olaf the Glorious, and of his great wealth and his prowess, and of
how in his person he was so tall and handsome, that men could only
compare him with Balder the Beautiful. And now she deemed that
she had at last discovered one whose magnificence would match with
her own. So she caused messengers to fare across the frontier into
Norway to sing her praises, so that King Olaf might learn how fair
she was, and how well suited to reign by his side. And it seemed
that her messages had the effect that she wished.

On a certain summer day Queen Sigrid sat at her chamber window,
overlooking a wide and beautiful river that lay between her own
kingdom and Norway. From afar she saw a company of horsemen. They
came nearer and nearer, and at last they halted at the gates. Their
leader entered and the queen went down to meet him, guessing that
he had come upon some errand of great importance.

When he had greeted her, he told her that he had come all the way from
Thrandheim, in Norway, with a message from King Olaf Triggvison,
who, hearing of her great charms, now offered her his hand in
marriage. And as a token of his good faith the king had sent her a
gift. The gift was a large ring of gold--the same that Olaf had
taken from the door of the temple at Lade.

Full joyous was Queen Sigrid at this good news, and she took the
heavy ring and slipped it upon her arm, bidding the messengers take
her hospitality for three days and then return to their master,
with the word that she favoured his proposal, and agreed to meet
him at her manor of Konghelle in three weeks' time.

Now the queen admired that ring, deeming it a most noble gift. It
was most beautifully wrought and interwoven with scrolls and circles
so delicate that all wondered how the hand of man could achieve
such perfection. Everyone praised it exceedingly, and among others
to whom Sigrid showed the ring were her own goldsmiths, two brothers.
These handled it with more care than others had done, and weighed
it in their hands as if they would estimate its value. The queen
saw that the smiths spoke in whispers one with the other; so she
called them to her and asked if they thought that any man in Sweden
could make such a ring.

At this the smiths smiled.

"Wherefore do you mock at the ring?" demanded Sigrid. "Tell me what
you have found?"

The smiths shrugged their shoulders.

"If indeed the truth must be spoken," said the elder of the two,
"then we have found this, O queen, that there is false metal in
the ring."

"Prove what you say!" cried the queen. And she let them break the
ring asunder--and lo! it was shown to be made of copper and not
of gold.

Then into Sigrid's eyes there flashed an angry light.

"If King Olaf of Norway can be so false in his gifts, he will be
faithless also in his love!" she cried. And she snatched the pieces
of the ring and flung them furiously away from her.

Now when the three weeks of his appointment had gone by Olaf
Triggvison journeyed east to the trysting place at Konghelle,
near the boundary line between Norway and Sweden, and there Queen
Sigrid met him. Amazed was Sigrid to see the splendour of the man
who offered her marriage. Never before had her eyes rested upon
one so tall and handsome and so gloriously attired. Arrived now at
his full manhood Olaf looked nobler and more majestic than ever in
his life before. His cloak of fine crimson silk clung to his giant
frame and showed the muscular moulding of his limbs. His step was
light and elastic, and, in spite of his great strength, his movements
were gentle and easy as those of a woman. His hands were very
large and powerful, yet the touch of them was soft and delicate;
and his voice, which could be loud and full as a trumpet blast,
could also be lowered to the musical sweetness of a purling brook.
His forehead, where his helmet had shielded it from the heat of
the sun and from the briny freshness of the sea air, was white and
smooth as polished marble; but the lower part of his face was of a
clear, rich golden brown. He wore no beard, but the hair was left
unshaven on his upper lip and it streamed down on either side of
his chin as fine as silk. When he smiled, his white and even teeth
gleamed like a row of pearls between the coral redness of his lips.
Queen Sigrid, as she beheld him for the first time, had no thought
of the ring that he had given her, nor of its falseness.

King Olaf, on his part, was more than a little disappointed with
the looks of the queen whose praises had been so often whispered
in his ears. He had heard that she was young, yet he now saw that
her hair was sprinkled with gray, that her eyes had lost the fire
and fervour of youth, and that her brow was wrinkled with age.
Younger and more comely was his own mother Astrid than this much
exalted queen. But, having given his word that he meant to woo her
and wed her, he had too much honour to draw back.

They sat together and talked over the matter of their wedding, and
of how they would unite their domains and rule together over all
the Swedes and Norsemen. And at last he took her hand and swore by
the holy rood that he would be true to her.

Now Sigrid the Haughty was still a heathen, and she liked not to
hear King Olaf swear by Christian tokens. So she turned upon him
with a quick glance of suspicion and contempt in her eyes.

"Such vows do not please me, King Olaf," she said. "It is told that
great Odin once swore on the ring. Will you swear by this ring to
be true?" And she rose and took up the ring he had sent as a gift,
which ere this time her two smiths had repaired.

"O speak not of Odin to me!" cried the king. "He is dead as the
stones in the street. By no other symbol than the cross will I swear.
Sorry am I to hear that you, Queen Sigrid, are still a believer in
the old dead gods. Since this is so, however, there is little use
in my being in this place, for I have made up my mind that the
woman who weds me shall be a true Christian and not a worshipper of
senseless idols hewn out of trees and rocks. Abandon these things,
take christening, and believe in the one true God who made all
things and knows all things, and then I will wed with you; but not
else, O queen."

Queen Sigrid, astonished that any man dared to speak to her in this
wise, looked back at King Olaf in anger.

"Never shall I depart from the troth that I have always held," she
cried. "And although you had twice the wealth that you have and
were yet more glorious than you are, yet never should I obey such
a bidding. No, no, King Olaf. I keep true to my faith and to my
vows; and can fare very well without you and your new religion. So
go back to your bald headed priests and to your singing of mass.
I will have none of them!"

Then the king rose in wrath and his face was darkened with gloom.
For a moment he forgot his manliness, and in his anger he struck
her across her cheek with his glove.

"Why, then, should I care to wed with thee?" he cried; "thou withered
old heathen jade!"

With these taunting words on his lips he turned and strode from
the chamber. But while the wooden stairway was still creaking under
his tread, Queen Sigrid called after him in bitterest anger:

"Go, then, O proud and stubborn king. Go where you will. But remember
this, that the insult you have offered me and the blow you have
struck me shall be your death!"

So Olaf departed, ere yet he had broken bread, and he went north
into Viken, while Queen Sigrid the Haughty went east into Sweden.

King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark had by this time regained full
possession of his kingdom, and was contemplating an invasion of
England which should be more complete and decisive than the attempt
which he had made in company with the viking whom he had known as
Ole the Esthonian. Sweyn had now, of course, discovered that this
man Ole and King Olaf of Norway were one and the same person, and
he began to be very jealous of the glory that was gathering about
Olaf's name. A new cause for jealousy had now arisen.

Sweyn, it will be remembered, had married the Princess Gunnhild,
daughter of Burislaf, King of the Wends. But in these days even now
told of it befell that Queen Gunnhild was stricken with an illness
and died. King Sweyn, ever ambitious of winning great dominion,
had a mind to take unto himself a new wife in the person of Queen
Sigrid of Sweden. He was on the point of setting out to woo her
when he heard by chance that King Olaf Triggvison was already bent
upon a similar journey. Envy and jealousy and bitter hatred welled
up in Sweyn's breast against his rival, and he swore by Thor's
hammer that sooner or later he would lower King Olaf to the dust.

But in good time King Sweyn heard of the quarrel that had befallen
between Queen Sigrid and her young Norwegian suitor. So he at once
fared north into Sweden to essay his own fortune with the haughty
queen. He gained a ready favour with Sigrid by speaking all manner
of false and malicious scandal against the man whom she had so
lately rejected. Sigrid probably saw that by marrying the King of
Denmark she might the more easily accomplish her vengeance upon
Olaf Triggvison. She therefore accepted Forkbeard's proposals, and
they were wedded in accordance with the rites and customs of their
pagan faith.

Earl Erik, the son of the late Earl Hakon, was at this time the
guest and friend of Sigrid's son, Olaf the Swede King; and these
three--King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark, King Olaf of Sweden, and
Earl Erik of Lade--had each a private cause of enmity against
Olaf Triggvison. It was they who, two years afterwards, united their
forces in the great sea fight in which Olaf the Glorious lost his
life.



CHAPTER XVIII: THE "LONG SERPENT".


King Olaf had now ruled over Norway for three years. In that brief
time he had done more for the country than any king who had gone
before him. He had succeeded in establishing Christianity--not
very thoroughly, it is true, for during the rest of his reign, and
for long enough afterwards, there was plenty of heathenism in Norway;
but he did all that he could to make men Christians, as far as he
knew how himself, and, by his own example of a pure and upright
life, he did much to deepen the feeling that, even in a social
sense, the Christian religion' offered advantages which had never
before been enjoyed in the land. It was noticed almost immediately
that there was less bloodshed among the people than formerly, and
that the peasants lived in greater security. The doctrine of peace
upon earth was set forth as one of the first principles of Olaf's
mission, and he was never tired of showing that, while Odin and
Thor took pleasure in bloodshed and rejoiced in war, Christ the
White was a lover of peace, and accorded no merit to the manslayer.

Olaf made it a law throughout his realm that all men should keep
the Sabbath holy, that they should always fast on Fridays, and that
they should teach their children the Ten Commandments. He could not
hope that grownup people, who had all their lives been accustomed
to worship graven images, would all at once become fervent and
devout Christians; but he clearly saw the importance of bringing
up all the children to a full knowledge of the Christian faith, and
accordingly he bade his priests give constant care to the education
of the young.

What King Olaf achieved in Norway he achieved also in the outlying
parts of his dominions. He sent priests into the lands of the
Laps and Fins. It has been told how he sent his priest Thrangbrand
to Iceland. He also sent missions to the Orkney Islands, to the
Shetlands, and the Faroes, and even to so distant a country as
Greenland. All these lands were converted to Christianity during
Olaf's brief reign.

But it was not in religious matters alone that Olaf Triggvison
exercised his wisdom and his rule. He encouraged fisheries and
husbandry and handicrafts, and men who had given up their lives
to warfare and vikingry now occupied themselves with useful arts
and industries. Himself a rare sailor, he loved all seamen and
shipmen and shipbuilders, and so that these might have work to do
he encouraged commerce with the lands over sea--with England and
Scotland and Ireland, with Russia, Wendland, Friesland, Flanders,
and France.

When he had been in England he had learned something of the good
laws established in that country by King Alfred the Great. He strove
to introduce many of these laws into his own kingdom. Like Alfred
the Great, King Olaf recognized the value of a strong navy, and,
so soon as he had assured himself of the goodwill of his subjects,
he levied taxes upon them, and set about the work of building ships.

The great dragonship which he had taken as a prize of war from Rand
the Wizard was the largest and finest vessel in the Norwegian seas
at this time. The king determined to have a much larger and finer
ship built, one which should surpass in splendour and equipment
every vessel that had been launched in Norway or any other land
throughout the ages. On the banks of the river Nid, at the place
where he had built the town of Nidaros, a great forest of pine
trees had been cleared, and there was timber in plenty ready at
hand. There had been two most fruitful seasons, with good crops,
and the country was rich. Olaf himself possessed more wealth than
any monarch in all Scandinavia, and also he was fortunate in having
about him a number of men who were highly skilled in the work of
designing and building ships. So he had a shipyard prepared under
the cliffs of Lade, and he appointed a man named Thorberg Shafting
to be his master builder.

Rand's dragonship, which was named the Serpent, was taken as a model
of the new ship that was to be made, but all her measurements were
exactly doubled, for the new craft was to be twice as long in the
keel, twice as broad in the beam, and twice as great in the scantling.
Olaf himself helped at the work, and laboured as hard as any other
two men. Whenever any difficulty arose he was there to set it right,
and all knew that every part of the work must be well done, that
every piece of timber must be free from rot, and every nail and
rivet made of the best metal or the king would discover the fault
and have it undone,

Many men were in the shipyard, some to hew timbers with their heavy
axes, some to fashion iron bolts and bars, and others to spin the
shining flax into the ropes that were to form the rigging. Burly
blacksmiths stood at the roaring forge, wielding huge hammers;
sawyers worked in the pits, making the stout beams and ribs and
cutting great trunks into thin planks. Black cauldrons of boiling
tar smoked and bubbled over the fires. The clattering of hammers,
the rasping of saws, the whirring of wheels, and the clamour of
men's voices sounded from earliest morning until the setting of
the sun; and the work went on apace all day and every day, saving
on Sunday, when no man was allowed to touch a nail or lift a hammer.

On a certain morning in the midsummer, King Olaf was down in
the shipyard. He wore his coarsest and oldest clothes; his thick,
strong arms were bared above the elbows, and his hardened hands
were smutched with tar and nail rust. His head was shielded from
the hot sun by a little cloth cap that was torn in the crown, and
his long hair and his broad back and shoulders were besprinkled
with sawdust. Save for his greater tallness and strength he looked
not very different from any of the workmen about him; and indeed
Kolbiorn Stallare, who stood near him in courtly apparel, might
well have been mistaken for the king and the king for the servant.

Olaf had paused in his work, and was talking with Kolbiorn concerning
some matter of state. As he stood thus, leaning with one elbow
on the long handle of his great sledgehammer, he saw young Einar
Eindridson coming towards him, followed by a woman. The woman seemed
to be of middle age, and she looked weary with travel. As she came
nearer, her eyes rested upon Kolbiorn as though she wished to speak
with him.

"Go to her," said the king. And Kolbiorn left Olaf's side and went
to meet her.

"Long have I searched for you, King Olaf," said she, drawing back
the cloak from her head, and letting the sun shine full upon her
face. "But I have found you at last, and now I crave your help for
the mercy of God!"

"You make a mistake, lady," said Kolbiorn; "I am not King Olaf, but
only his servant. Yonder is the king at work among his shipwrights.
But if you would speak with him I will take you to him, for I see
that you are in distress."

So he took her to where Olaf was, and when she stood near him she
looked at him in disbelief, taking him to be but a workman. But
when the king laid down his hammer and stood up at his full height
and uncovered his head, she saw that he was no ordinary man. Her
eyes went to his bare arm, where there still remained the mark
branded there in the days of his bondage in Esthonia.

"By that token do I know you, O king," said she. "But you are taller
and stronger than when last we met."

"In what land and in whose company was that meeting?" asked King Olaf.
"Methinks I have indeed seen you before, but in what circumstances
and at what time I do not call to mind."

"We met long years ago," said she. "First in Wendland, when you
were a guest at the court of King Burislaf; and again when we sat
side by side at the inheritance feast of King Sweyn of Denmark.
My name is Thyra. Harald Bluetooth, king of Denmark, was my father,
and I am the sister of King Sweyn of the Forked beard, who now reigns
over all Denmark, and who has lately wedded with Queen Sigrid of
Sweden."

"Right well do I now remember you," returned Olaf. "And well do I
mind that, at that same feast in Denmark, you scorned me because
I had been a slave."

There was a frown upon his brow and a look of mistrust in his eyes;
for he guessed that the coming of this woman was some guileful
trick of her brother Sweyn, whom he knew to be an enemy of his own.

"At the time you speak of," said she, "you were but a heathen
viking of Jomsburg, a lover of warfare, a man who lived by plunder
and bloodshed, who worshipped the pagan gods, and knew not the
sweetness of a peaceful life. But now you are a king--a great and
glorious king. And, what is more, you are a Christian, worshipping
the true God, and doing good deeds for the good Christ's sake."

The look of mistrust now vanished from Olaf's eyes, and gave place
to a look of softness and pity.

"It is because you are a Christian that I have come to you now,"
she went on. "For days and weeks I have travelled on foot across
the mountains; and now that I have found you I crave your pity and
your help, for I am in sore distress, and know of none other than
you, O king, to whom I can go for shelter. At the same time that
you were yourself in Wendland, and at the time when Earl Sigvaldi
of Jomsburg was wedded with the Princess Astrid, and my brother
Sweyn with her sister Gunnhild, it was arranged that I too should
be wedded. And the husband whom Sigvaldi and Sweyn chose for me was
their father-in-law, King Burislaf. Now, Burislaf was an elderly
man, while I was but a little girl, and I was sorely against this
matter. So I craved that they would not press me to the marriage,
and they yielded so far that I was left alone for a while.

"Early in this present summer King Burislaf renewed his pleadings
that I should wed with him, and he sent Earl Sigvaldi into Denmark
to carry me away. So well did the Earl prevail with my brother
that Sweyn delivered me into his hands, and also covenanted that
the domains in Wendland which Queen Gunnhild had had should be my
dowry.

"Now, already I had become a Christian, and it was little to my
satisfaction that I should become the wife of a pagan king and live
for ever after among heathen folk, so on a certain dark and stormy
night I fled away. A poor fisherman brought me over into Norway,
where I knew that the people were all of the Christian faith, and
so, after much trouble and privation, I have found my way hither."

Thus Thyra spoke with King Olaf. And when she had told him all her
trouble he gave her good counsel and a kindly welcome, and said
that she should always have a peaceful dwelling in his realm.

Now, Olaf Triggvison knew full well that in giving succour to Thyra
he was doing that which would give great offence to King Sweyn of
Denmark; and that Sweyn, when he heard that his sister was here in
Norway, would speedily come over and carry her back to Wendland.
Nevertheless, Olaf thought well of her ways and saw that she was
very fair, and it came into his mind that this would be a good
wedding for him. So when Thyra had been in Nidaros some few weeks
he spoke with her again, and asked her if she would wed him.

Little loth was Thyra to obey his behests, for she deemed herself
most fortunate in that there was a chance of her marrying so noble
a king. So she yielded to him, and their wedding was held in harvest
time, and celebrated according to the Christian rites. From that
time onward they reigned together as king and queen of Norway.

All through that summer King Olaf busied himself in his shipyard, and
in the early autumn the great ship's hull was well nigh finished.
At this time Thorberg, the master shipwright, went home to his
farmstead in Orkadale to gather in his harvest, and he tarried there
for many days. When he came back the bulwarks were all completed.

On the same day of his return the king went down with him to the
yard to see how the vessel looked, and they both agreed that never
before had they seen its equal in size and in beauty of form. All
had been done as Thorberg had designed, and great praise did he win
from his master. But Thorberg said, nevertheless, that there were
many things that he would have improved.

But early the next morning the king and Thorberg went again to the
ship. All the smiths had come thither, but they stood there doing
no work.

"Why are ye standing idle?" demanded Olaf in surprise.

"Because the ship is spoiled, O king," said one of the men, "and
there is no longer any good in her! Some evil minded man has been
at work in the night, undoing all that we have done!"

The king walked round to the ship's side, and lo! every plank along
her bulwarks was hewn and notched and deeply gashed as with an axe.

"Envious mischief maker!" cried the king in a sorrowful voice. Then
as he realized the full extent of the wreckage he swore an oath,
and declared that the man who had thus spoiled the ship should die,
and that he who should discover the evildoer would be well rewarded.

Then Thorberg went to his side, and said he: "Be not so wrathful,
O king. I can tell you who it is that has done this mischief. It
was I who did it."

"You!" cried the king. "You in whom I have trusted so long? You,
who have taken so much pride in the building of this ship? Unhappy
man! Know this, that you shall repair this mischief and make it
good, or else you shall lose your life!"

Thorberg laughed lightly and said: "Little the worse will the ship
be when I have done, lord."

And then he went to the ship and planed out all the notches and
cuts, and made the bulwarks so smooth and fair that all who saw
what he did declared that the ship was made far handsomer than she
had been before. So well pleased was King Olaf that he bade Thorberg
do the same on the other side, and gave him great praise and reward.

Late in the autumn the hull was finished and painted, ready for
launching. Bishop Sigurd sprinkled the vessel's bows with holy
water, and as she slipped over the rollers into the sea King Olaf
named her the Long Serpent.

There was yet much to be done before she would be ready for sea; but
such work as the stepping of her two masts, fitting her standing
rigging, caulking her deck planks, fashioning her cabins, and
adorning her prow and stern could best be done when she was afloat.

The Long Serpent would not be considered a very large vessel in
these modern days, but she was the largest ship known to have been
built before the time of King Canute, and she was, so far as it
is possible to calculate, exactly double the size of the ship in
which Columbus crossed the Atlantic. Her length was not less than
two hundred feet. Her breadth between the gunwales was about forty
feet. It is not probable that she was very deep in the water; but
of this there is no record. She was fitted with thirty-four "rooms"
amidships, each room being divided into two half rooms. These half
rooms accommodated eight men whose duty it was to attend to one of
the long oars. Thus, there were thirty-four pairs of oars and five
hundred and seventy-four rowers. Between the half rooms, and also
along the bulwarks, there were wide gangways, running fore and aft.
There was a large forecastle in which the warriors slept and took
their meals, and abaft the main mast there was another cabin called
the "fore-room", in which King Olaf had his high seat, or throne.
Here he held his councils. Here, too, he had his armour chests.
Thirty men lived in the fore-room.

King Olaf's own private cabin was under the "lypting", or poop. It
was very splendidly furnished, with beautifully carved wood and
tapestries of woven silk. Only his chosen companions and his personal
servants were allowed to enter this apartment. Above it there was
a large deck which in the time of battle was occupied by the king
and his most valiant warriors.

The prow of the Long Serpent, which rose high above all other parts
of the hull, took the form of a dragon's head and shoulders. This
ferocious looking monster, with wide open jaws and staring eyes, was
covered with beaten gold. At the vessel's stern stood the dragon's
twisted tail, and this also was plated with gold. Close beside it
was the handle of the steering board, which was usually held, when
at sea, by King Olaf himself or his chief captain.

It was not until the middle of the next springtime that the ship
was ready for sea. Then Olaf had his fair weather sails hoisted.
They were as white as newly fallen snow, with a large blood red
cross in the middle. Banners of silk streamed from the masthead and
from the yardarms, and a most beautiful standard fluttered from a
tall staff on the lypting. The midships tent, which shielded the
rowers from the glare of the strong light, was striped with red
and blue. The weather vanes and the dragon glittered in the sun,
and the men on the decks were arrayed in their best, with their
polished brass helmets and gaily coloured cloaks. King Olaf himself
was most splendidly attired. He had on a newly wrought coat of
chain mail, which was partly covered by a mantle of fine crimson
silk. His helmet was made of burnished copper, inlaid with gold
ornaments and surmounted by a gold dragon. Near to him, as he stood
at the tiller, his shield was hung up. It was the same shield that
he had bought from Thangbrand, bearing the image of the crucifix.

Great crowds of people assembled on the banks of the Nid. They all
thought it a most wonderful sight, and they cheered lustily as,
in answer to a loud blast from the king's bugle horn, the rowers
began to pull. As the great vessel glided out of the river with
her eight and sixty oars moving in regular strokes she looked
like a thing of life. Never in all time or in all lands had such
a magnificent ship been seen.

Olaf steered her out into the blue waters of Thrandheim Fiord, and
then as the wind caught her sails the oars were shipped and she
sped onward with such even speed that all were astonished. Not far
had she gone when she came in sight of Olaf's other dragonship --
the Short Serpent, as she was now called--which had been sent out
an hour in advance. In spite of the long start that she had had,
the smaller vessel was quickly overhauled and passed, as though
she had not been moving. Olaf had wanted to have a race; but now he
saw that this was useless; for the Long Serpent had proved herself
to be not only the most beautiful ship to look upon, but also the
quickest sailer of all vessels afloat.

Out into the sea he took her. There was a strong breeze blowing
and the sea was rough. She rode easy upon the waves, both before
and against the wind, and Olaf was well pleased. So, when the trial
cruise was over, he returned to Nidaros, satisfied that if ever he
should be drawn into a war with any foreign power he had a battleship
which no enemy could equal.

Now King Olaf lived in happiness and contentment with Queen Thyra,
and there was great love between them. But there was one thing
which gave the queen much trouble, and over which she was for ever
fretting. It was that, by reason of her flight from Wendland, she
had forfeited all the possessions that had been reserved as her
dowry. She felt that, here in Norway, she had no private wealth
of her own such as beseemed a queen, whereas there were her great
estates in Wendland and Denmark, from which large revenues were
due. Again and again she spoke to the king on this matter, praying
him with fair words to go and get her her own. King Burislaf, she
declared, was so dear a friend of King Olaf that so soon as they
met he would surely give over to him all that he craved. But Olaf
always shook his head and asked her if she did not think that
there was wealth enough for them both in Norway. But Thyra was
not satisfied with this constant delay. Whenever her husband spoke
with her she always contrived to bring in some peevish mention of
her estates. She wept and prayed and pleaded so often that Olaf's
patience was well nigh exhausted. It seemed that if only for
the sake of domestic peace an expedition to Wendland must soon be
brought about. Nevertheless, all the friends of the king, when they
heard of this talk, advised him against such a journey, for they
knew full well that it must end in a war with the queen's brother,
Sweyn Forkbeard. On a certain day in that same spring, when it was
nearing Eastertide, King Olaf was passing down the street, when by
the marketplace a man met him, and offered to sell him some very
fine spring vegetables. Olaf noticed that he had some large angelica
heads. This was a herb very much valued in those days and eaten as
we now eat celery. The king took a great stalk of the angelica in
his hand and went home with it to Queen Thyra. He found the queen
in her hall weeping for her lost estates.

"See here the big angelica I give thee," said he.

The queen rose and thrust the vegetables contemptuously aside,
and, with the tears streaming down her cheek, cried: "A pretty
gift indeed! Greater gifts did my father, Harald Bluetooth, give
me when, as a child, I got my first tooth! He did not fear to come
over here to Norway and conquer this land; whereas you, with all
your boasted glory and your great ships, are so much afraid of my
brother Sweyn that you dare not venture into Denmark to get me what
belongs to me, and of which I have been shamefully robbed!"

Then up sprang King Olaf and retorted with an angry oath: "Afraid?"
he cried. "Never have I gone in fear of your brother Sweyn, and
I am not afraid of him now. Nay, if we ever meet, he shall surely
give way before me! Now--even now--I will set sail for Wendland,
and you shall have your wretched estates!"



CHAPTER XIX: SIGVALDI'S TREACHERY.


So, when Eastertide with all its religious ceremonies had passed
by, King Olaf summoned a great gathering of his people, whereat he
set forth that he intended to make an expedition into the Baltic,
and that he required a levy from every district, both of men and
of ships. He then sent messengers north and south along the land,
bidding them muster his forces. The ships were to assemble in
Thrandheim Fiord in the first week in summer.

Olaf paid great attention to the manning of the Long Serpent, and
his seamen and warriors were so well chosen that it was said that
the crew surpassed other men as far in strength and bravery as the
Long Serpent surpassed other ships. Every man was picked by King
Olaf himself, who determined that none should be older than sixty
years, and none younger than twenty. He made only one exception
to this rule. It was in the case of Einar Eindridson, surnamed
Thambarskelver. Einar was but eighteen years old; but, young though
he was, he was considered the most skilful archer in all Norway.
With his bow, called Thamb, he could fire a blunt arrow through
a raw ox hide, and not even King Olaf could aim more true or hit
the mark at a greater distance. In after years Einar became a very
famous warrior and lawman, and his name is often mentioned in the
history of Norway. Wolf the Red was King Olaf's banner bearer, and
his station was in the prow of the Serpent, together with Kolbiorn
Stallare, Thorstein Oxfoot, Vikar of Tiundaland, and others.
Among the forecastle men were Bersi the Strong, Thrand Squinteye,
Thorfinn the Dashing, Ketil the Tall, and Ogmund Sandy. Thirty of
the best men were in the fore-room, in front of the poop. Young
Einar Eindridson was stationed in the main hold among the rowers.
The complete ship's company numbered seven hundred men.

The Short Serpent was commanded by Thorkel Nefja, a kinsman of
Olaf's; and Thorkel the Wheedler (brother of Queen Astrid) commanded
the Crane. Both these ships were very well manned. Eleven other
large ships left Thrandheim with Olaf, also some smaller vessels
of war, and six that were loaded with stores. He set sail with this
fleet in the early days of the summer, and Queen Thyra went with
him. Southward he sailed, and as he came in turn to fiord after
fiord many vikings and wealthy warriors joined him with their
ships. When at length he stood out across the Skager Rack, he had
a fleet of sixty longships and sixty smaller transports, and with
these in his wake he sailed south along Denmark through the Eyr
sound, and so to Wendland.

This expedition was not made with any warlike intent. Olaf did not
expect that war would follow. But he knew that King Sweyn Forkbeard
was his bitterest enemy, and that there was danger in passing so
near to Denmark, and he thought it well to have a large number of
battleships in his train in case of need.

He arrived off the Wendish coast without being in any way molested,
and he anchored his fleet in the great bay of Stetten haven. Thence
he sent messengers to King Burislaf appointing a day of meeting.
Burislaf invited him to go inland and be his guest at his castle,
and Olaf went, leaving Queen Thyra behind on board the Serpent,
for she would by no means consent to come into the presence of the
man whom she had jilted.

King Burislaf received him well, and gave him splendid hospitality.
Olaf spoke of his queen's estates and of the revenues that were
due to her. Burislaf was a just man in his own heathen way, and he
answered that, since he had not got the wife that had been promised
him, he did not think it right that he should enjoy her dowry. So
he yielded to Olaf's claims, and at once delivered to him the full
value of Queen Thyra's estates. Olaf abode in Wendland for many
days, and at length returned to the coast, carrying with him a
great store of gold and jewels, which, when he went on board his
ship, he gave to his queen.

Thyra was now well satisfied, and never again did she attempt to
taunt King Olaf concerning her estates. On the contrary, she gave
him all praise for having done so much for her sake, and all her
contempt of his seeming cowardice was turned to admiration of his
courage.

Now, at this same time King Sweyn Forkbeard was in Denmark, living
with his new wife, Queen Sigrid the Haughty. Even as Thyra had
taunted Olaf Triggvison concerning her possessions in Wendland, so
had Sigrid taunted Sweyn Forkbeard concerning her hatred of King
Olaf of Norway. She could never forget how Olaf had smitten her in
the face with his glove, and from the earliest days of her marriage
with King Sweyn she had constantly and earnestly urged him to wage
war against Olaf Triggvison. Sweyn, knowing the risks of such a
war, turned a deaf ear to his proud wife's entreaties. But when at
last Sigrid heard that Olaf had given protection to Sweyn's sister,
and made Thyra his queen, she renewed her urging with increased
earnestness, and so well did she succeed that Sweyn was roused to
great anger against King Olaf, and he resolved to get ready his
forces and abide by Queen Sigrid's counsel.

He was in this belligerent mood when the rumour reached him that
Olaf Triggvison was at sea with his fleet, and was minded to make
the voyage to Wendland. With this rumour also came news of the
splendid dragonship that the Norse king had built.

Now, Sweyn Forkbeard was a very cautious man in the affairs of
war, and he well knew that he was himself no match for so powerful
a warrior as Olaf the Glorious. But he remembered that he was not
alone in his desire to humble the monarch of the Norselands. His
own son in law, Olaf the Swede King, had sworn by Thor's hammer to
avenge the insult to his mother Queen Sigrid the Haughty, and the
help of the Swede King in this war would be of great account. In
addition to the King of Sweden there was Earl Erik of Lade, who
was eager to take vengeance upon Olaf Triggvison for the slaying of
his father Earl Hakon. Since the coming of King Olaf into Norway,
Earl Erik had become famous as a viking; he had engaged in many
battles both on land and on the sea. It has already been told how
he fought in the sea fight against the vikings of Jomsburg. He was
now one of the strongest war men in all Scandinavia, and his fleet
of battleships was equal to that of either Sweyn of Denmark or Olaf
of Sweden.

So when Forkbeard heard that Olaf Triggvison had entered the Baltic
he sent men east into Sweden, bidding them give word to the Swede
King and to Earl Erik that now was their time if they would join
in battle against their common foe.

Sweyn Forkbeard was at this time very friendly with Earl Sigvaldi,
the chief of the Jomsvikings, and he enlisted his help. It happened
that Sigvaldi's wife, the Princess Astrid, was then staying at the
court of her father King Burislaf, in Wendland. It was, therefore,
a very natural thing that the earl should go thither also. Sweyn
urged him to make the journey, to spy upon King Olaf's fleet, and to
lay such a trap that Sweyn and his allies should not fail in their
object. Earl Sigvaldi undertook this mission, and fared eastward to
Wendland with eleven longships. Meeting King Olaf he made pretence
to renew his old friendship with the man whom he had formerly known
as Ole the Esthonian. He flattered him, praised his great wisdom,
and, more than all, spoke highly of his fleet and the surpassing
splendour of the Long Serpent. Their discourse was most friendly
at all times, nor did Olaf for a moment suspect the treachery that
underlay the earl's soft speeches and his seeming goodwill. Deep
into the king's open heart Sigvaldi wormed his way, until they were
as brothers one with the other. When Olaf hinted that he would be
going back to Norway, that the weather was fair for sailing, and
that his men were homesick and weary of lying at anchor, Sigvaldi
made some plausible excuse and still held him back; and the time
went on, the summer days grew shorter, and yet Olaf made no move.

But on a certain day there came a small fishing boat into the bay,
and dropped anchor near to the earl's longship. In the darkness of
the next night one of her men had speech with Sigvaldi, and gave
him the tidings for which he had so long waited. These tidings were
that the host of the Swede King had now come from the east, that
Earl Erik also had arrayed his forces, and that these lords had
joined with Sweyn Forkbeard, and all were sailing downward to the
coast of Wendland. They had appointed to waylay King Olaf Triggvison
in a certain channel running between the mainland and the island
of Svold, and Sweyn had now sent this messenger bidding the earl
to so bring it about that they might fall upon King Olaf in that
place. On the next morning Sigvaldi put out one of his boats, rowed
alongside of the Long Serpent, and stepped upon her deck. He found
King Olaf sitting at his ease against the rail, carving runes upon
the lid of a wooden box that he had made for the holding of the
queen's jewels. Sigvaldi did not disturb him, but took a few turns
across the deck and looked up into the sunlit sky. The king blew
away the chips of wood that he had been cutting from the box lid
and looked up.

"A fairer and finer day for sailing I have never yet seen," said he.
"Why should we not heave anchor this very morning? The wind bodes
well for a free run westward, and in truth, Sigvaldi, I am getting
wearied of this idleness and the sight of these sandy shores."

"Let it be so by all means if you so wish it," answered the earl
in a light tone of unconcern. "I, too, should be not ill pleased to
be once more upon the open sea, although I shall be sorry to make
an end to our close intercourse, for the sooner we sail the sooner
must we part."

"The parting need not be for long," said the king. "I am hoping that
you will soon see your way to coming north to Thrandheim, there to
spend many happy summer months with us. And we may take a cruise
in the Long Serpent across to the Orkneys, or north even to Iceland."

A mocking smile played about the earl's lips.

"You are ever ready with your bright plans for the future, King
Olaf," he said, as he raised his great hand to stroke his bushy
black beard. "But the next summer is a long while off, and it may
be--who can say?--it may be that we shall not then be both
alive."

King Olaf gave a playful laugh.

"Your thoughts are passing gloomy this morning," said he. "Why should
you speak of death? You are still but in the prime of manhood, and
are blessed with the best of health. As to a death in battle, you,
who are still a believer in Odin and Valhalla, can have no fear of
warlike enemies."

"It was not of myself that I was thinking," returned Sigvaldi.

"Then why should it be for me that you fear?" asked Olaf. "I am of
a long lived race, and, since I am now a man of peace and no lover
of bloodshed, I am not likely to be mixed up in any wars--at
least, not wars of my own making. And there is but one man I know
of who has any wish to wage battle with me."

"Who is that?" questioned Sigvaldi.

"King Sweyn of Denmark," answered Olaf. "And it seems that he is
at this very time abroad with his hosts in search of me."

A look of alarm came upon the earl's dark face. He marvelled how
Olaf had come to hear this news, and he feared also that his own
schemes might end in failure.

"These are strange tidings you tell, King Olaf," he said. "One
would think that, like Odin, you employed the birds of the air to
bear you news."

"The bird that told me these matters was but a poor fisherman,"
said Olaf. "Yesternight I met him on the shore, and, seeing that
he was a Dane, I had speech with him, and he said that King Sweyn,
with two or three longships, had been seen bearing southward to
Wendland."

Earl Sigvaldi breathed a deep breath of relief. There was still
great hope of his scheme succeeding. He glanced round the bay at
Olaf's great fleet, and thought of the reward that Sweyn had offered
as the price of his treachery.

"Little would it avail King Sweyn to enter unaided into a battle
with so well equipped and so brave a warrior as you, King Olaf,"
he said. "But, for my own part, I do not believe this tale. I
have known the Dane King in past times, and he is far too wary to
attempt so bold an attack. Howbeit, if you misdoubt that war will
beset your path, then will I be of your company with my ships. The
time has been when the following of the vikings of Jomsburg has
been deemed of good avail to mighty kings."

Then when the earl had gone off to his own ships, Olaf turned to
go below to his cabin.

At the head of the cabin stairs he was met by young Einar Eindridson.

"So please you, O king," said the lad in a halting voice, "it
chanced yesternight that I had a dream --"

"Well," smiled the king, "and what of that? The people of heathen
lands deem it a grave misfortune if a man cannot dream; therefore
you may be accounted fortunate."

"Dreams may sometimes avert misfortune," said the lad, "and this
that I dreamt yesternight may be of service to you, my master. While
I slept, it seemed to me that I saw you standing at the brink of a
deep well of water. At your side stood the Earl Sigvaldi. Suddenly
he put his hand upon your back and pushed you forward, so that you
fell into the water and sank deep, deep down, and then all was dark.
I am no great reader of dreams, O king; but this one has sorely
troubled me, for I fear that Earl Sigvaldi is a treacherous friend,
and that he is now minded to do you an injury."

"Leave the reading of such sleeping fancies to wizards and witches,
Einar," said King Olaf. "It is not for Christian folk to inquire
into the future. We are in God's hands, and He alone can determine
what path we shall tread. As to my good friend Sigvaldi, I will
hear no word against him."

Now when Olaf went into the cabin, he found there Sigvaldi's wife,
the princess Astrid, who had been for some days in companionship
with Queen Thyra. Astrid warned him, as openly as she dared, that
her husband was working against him. But Olaf turned aside her
warnings with a jest. A strange infatuation bound him to his false
friend, and nothing would shake his confidence. He resolved to
abide by the earl's advice in all things.

It was yet early morning when King Olaf again went on deck. The
wind blew light from the southeast, and all was favourable for
departure. Loud over the bay sounded the bugle horns. Mariners cried
aloud in their joy as they hoisted the yards. The sails fluttered
out in the breeze, and the anchors were weighed. Gaily the ships
sped out of the wide bay, and forth through the western channel
past the vikings' stronghold of Jomsburg. Seventy-one keels in all
there were, and the smaller vessels led the way, right out into
the open sea, nor waited to know which course the king should take,
for all knew that they were homeward bound for Norway, and that
although there were many ways, yet they all led north beyond Denmark,
and so onward into the breezy Skager Rack.

Little did Olaf see the need of keeping his fleet together. He feared
no foe, and was well aware that every craft had a trusty crew who
were fully able to look after their own safety. His own knowledge
of these seas told him also that, however much his ships might be
scattered in crossing the Baltic, they must all gather together
again, as he had commanded, before entering the Eyr Sound.

Now the treacherous earl, whose craft and cunning had been busily
at work throughout that morning, saw, in this scattering of the
ships, the fulfilment of his dearest hopes. King Sweyn had enjoined
him beyond all things to so manage that Olaf Triggvison should be
separated from the main body of his fleet, so that he might thus
fall into the trap that was laid for him, and be speedily overcome
by the superior force that now awaited him behind the island of
Svold. Sweyn Fork Beard's plans were well laid; and if Earl Sigvaldi
could but contrive to lead Olaf between the island and the mainland,
instead of taking the northward course across the open sea, success
for the allies was certain.

The earl was careful to keep his own vessel within the close
neighbourhood of the Long Serpent. In the wake of these two sailed
the earl's ten other viking ships and a similar number of King
Olaf's largest dragons, including the Short Serpent and the Crane.

The remaining portion of the king's fleet had already passed in
advance, bending their course due north. Sigvaldi had tried, by
delaying Olaf's departure out of the haven, to still further reduce
the number of the king's immediate followers. But he knew the extent
of Sweyn Fork Beard's forces, and he was content that Olaf should
retain such chances as were afforded by the support of eleven of
his best battleships.

Now Olaf was about to steer outward into the sea when Sigvaldi
hailed him.

"Follow me!" cried the earl. "Let me be your pilot, for I know all
the deepest channels between the isles, and I will lead you through
them by such ways that you will come out far in advance of your
other ships!"

So King Olaf, over confident and never dreaming of treachery,
followed westward into the Sound, and went sailing onward to his
doom.



CHAPTER XX: CAUGHT IN THE SNARE.


King Sweyn of Denmark and his allies lay with their war hosts
in a large sheltered vik, or bay, on the western side of the isle
of Svold. This position was well chosen, as the bay formed a part
of the channel through which--if Earl Sigvaldi fulfilled his
treacherous mission--King Olaf Triggvison was certain to pass
into the clutches of his foes. There were seventy war galleys in
all, and each vessel was well manned and fully prepared for battle.
The larger number belonged to King Sweyn; but the longships of Earl
Erik were in all respects superior to those of either Denmark or
Sweden.

Earl Erik himself, too, was the most valiant warrior. Excepting
only Olaf Triggvison there was not a braver or more daring chief
in all the lands of Scandinavia. Trained from his earliest youth
to a life of storm and battle, Erik had never known the meaning of
fear, and it might almost be said that he had never known defeat.
His own bravery and skill had inspired every one of his viking
followers with the same qualities. As his men were, so were his
ships--they were chosen with the main view to their fitness for
encountering the battle and the breeze. His own dragonship, which
had stood the brunt of many a fierce fight, was named the Iron Ram.
It was very large, and the hull timbers at both bow and stern were
plated with thick staves of iron from the gunwales down to the
waterline.

For many days had these ships lain at anchor in the bay, and as
each day passed the three chiefs grew more and more impatient for
the coming of their royal victim. Many times and again had they
sat together in King Sweyn's land tent, discussing their prospects
and planning their method of attack. Their purpose was not alone to
wreak vengeance upon King Olaf for the supposed wrongs that each
of the three had suffered at his hands. The idea of vengeance,
indeed, stood only second to the great hope of conquest and of
personal gain, and they had made this secret bargain among themselves,
namely, that in the event of Olaf Triggvison being slain, they
should each have his own third share of Norway. To Earl Erik were
to be given all the shires along the western coast from Finmark
to Lindesness, with the exception of seven shires allotted to Olaf
the Swede King. All the shires from Lindesness, including the rich
district of Agder, to the Swedish boundary, were to be taken by
Sweyn Fork Beard; excepting only the realm of Ranarike (to this
day a part of Sweden), which was to be given to the Swedish king.

It was further agreed among the three chieftains, concerning
the expected battle, that he who first planted foot upon the Long
Serpent should have her for his own, with all the wealth that was
found on board of her; and each should take possession of the ships
which he himself captured and cleared of men.

Touching this same arrangement Olaf Sigridson was not well content,
for he knew that both Erik and Sweyn were better men than himself,
and that in contending for the prize he would have but a sorry
chance if either of his companions should enter the battle before
him.

"It seems to me," said Sweyn, on a certain morning when they were
talking this matter over, "that the fairest way of all would be
that we should cast lots or throw the dice; and let it be that he
who throws the highest shall be first to attack King Olaf's own
ship."

So they brought out the dice box and each cast his lot in turn.
Earl Erik threw a two and a five. Then the Swedish king took up
the dice and he threw two sixes.

"No need is there for a third to throw!" he cried. "Mine is the
first chance, and, by the hammer of Thor, the Long Serpent shall
be mine also!"

But King Sweyn had still to take his throw.

"There are yet two sixes on the dice," said he, "and it is easy
for the gods to let them turn up again."

He made his cast, and there were again two sixes. But one die had
broken asunder, showing a three as well as the two sixes. Thus
Sweyn was the victor, and it was agreed that his ships should take
the centre of battle and lead the attack upon the Long Serpent.

When this matter was decided the three chiefs went up upon the
heights of the island, as they had done every morning since their
coming to Svold, and stood there with a great company of men. They
looked eastward along the line of the Wendic coast, and as they
watched they saw a great number of ships upon the sea, bearing
outward from Stetten haven. The weather was very bright and clear,
and the sunlight, shining upon the gaily coloured sails and upon
the gilded prows, made a very fine sight.

Earl Erik noticed with some concern that the fleet was making due
north. But Sweyn said: "Wait, and you will see what our good Sigvaldi
will do when he comes into sight!" So they waited and watched.

In about an hour's time they saw many larger and finer vessels
appearing. But they were yet too far off to be clearly recognized.
Sweyn was very silent for a time, and he kept his eyes fixed upon
the ships, noting their every movement. At last he cried aloud:

"Now I can see that Sigvaldi is doing as we bade him. No longer do
the ships stand outward into the main. They are bearing westward
for Svold! Let us now go down to our ships and not be too slow in
attack."

So they all went down to the lower land and Sweyn sent boats out
to bid the shipmen weigh anchor and prepare for battle as quietly
as might be.

Now the channel through which Sigvaldi was to lead the Norsemen was
full wide, and deep, but it had many turns and twists, and before
the ships could enter the bay, where their enemies awaited them in
ambush, they had need to pass round an outstretching cape. On the
ridge of this cape, and hidden by trees, King Sweyn and his companions
took their stand, knowing that although they might wait to see the
whole of King Olaf's fleet pass by, they would still have ample
time to board their ships and be in readiness to meet their victim
ere he entered the bay.

It was not very long before they saw a large and splendid dragon
sailing proudly into the channel. It was the ship of Eindrid of
Gimsar.

"A great ship, and marvellous fair!" cried King Sweyn. "Surely it
is the Long Serpent herself!"

Earl Erik shook his head and answered: "Nay; though this ship is
large and fine it is not the Long Serpent."

Shortly afterwards they saw another dragon, larger than the first;
but the dragon's head had been taken down from the prow.

King Sweyn said: "Now is Olaf Triggvison afraid, for he dares not
sail with the head on his ship!"

"This is not the king's ship," returned Earl Erik with confident
denial; "for by the green and red striping of her sails I know that
her captain is Erling Skialgson. Let him pass on! If, as I believe,
he is himself on board, we shall be better served if he and his
band are not found among those with whom we are to fight this day."

One by one, in irregular order, the great ships of the Norse
chieftains sailed by, and with each that passed, King Sweyn or Olaf
of Sweden cried aloud: "Now surely this one is the Long Serpent!"
But Earl Erik the Norseman recognized every one, and told her
captain's name.

Presently Earl Sigvaldi's viking ships went by, holding close
inshore; and at length the earl's own dragon, with a red banner at
her prow, by which token King Sweyn understood that all was going
as had been intended. Following close behind came the Crane.

"Now let us hasten on board!" cried King Sweyn, "for here comes
the Serpent at last!"

But Earl Erik did not move.

"Many other great and splendid ships has Olaf Triggvison besides
the Long Serpent," said he, "yet only nine have sailed past. Let
us still wait."

Then one of Sweyn's Danish warriors who stood near gave a hoarse
mocking laugh and said:

"We had heard that Earl Erik was a brave and adventurous man. But
now it is clear that he has but the heart of a chicken, for he is
too cowardly to fight against Olaf Triggvison and dares not avenge
his own father's death. Great shame is this, to be told of through
all lands, that we, with all our great host, stand here, while
Norway's king sails out to sea past our very eyes."

Erik became very angry at hearing these taunting words.

"Go, then, to your ships," said he; "but for all your doubts of my
courage you shall see before the sun goes down into the sea tonight
that both Danes and Swedes will be less at their ease than I and
my men!"

As they moved to go, yet another of King Olaf's ships hove in sight.

"Here now sails the Long Serpent!" cried the son of Queen Sigrid.
"Little wonder is it that Olaf Triggvison is so widely renowned
when he has such a splendid ship as this!"

All turned to watch the great vessel as she floated by. Her gilded
dragon glistened in the sunlight; her striped red and blue sail
swelled in the breeze; crowds of stalwart men were on her decks.
No larger or more magnificent battleship had ever before been seen
on these waters.

King Sweyn Fork Beard cried aloud in his exultation:

"Loftily shall the Serpent carry me tonight when I steer her north
into Denmark!"

Then Earl Erik added with a sneer:

"Even if Olaf the Glorious had no larger ship than the Short Serpent,
which we now see, methinks Sweyn with all his army of Danes could
never win it from him without aid."

King Sweyn was about to give an angry retort when Earl Erik pointed
towards the headland from behind which all these ships had in their
turn appeared. And now did Sweyn at once understand how greatly
he had been mistaken in what he had expected of King Olaf's famous
dragonship, and how much his fancy had fallen short of the reality.
He stood in dumb amazement as the towering prow of the Long Serpent
glided into view, shooting long beams of golden light across the
sea. First came the glistening dragon head, and then a long stretch
of gaily painted hull; next, the tall mast with its swelling white
sail, and, in the midst of the snowy expanse, the blood red cross.
The dense row of polished shields along the bulwarks flashed in
the sunlight. Sweyn marvelled at the ship's great length, for the
stern did not appear in sight until long after he had seen the
prow. His companion chieftains murmured their astonished admiration;
while fear and terror crept into the breasts of many of the Swedes
and Danes, who felt that for some of them at least the great ship
carried death.

"This glorious vessel is worthy and fitting for such a mighty king
as Olaf the Glorious," declared Earl Erik, "for it may in truth be
said of him that he is distinguished above all other kings as the
Long Serpent is above all other ships."

All unconscious of the guiles of Sigvaldi, King Olaf steered his
ship in the earl's wake. At the first he took the lead of his ten
other dragons, Sigvaldi sailing in advance. But as they neared the
island a thing happened which caused him to fall back to the rear.
Young Einar Eindridson, ever full of sport and play, had perched
himself astride of the yardarm, and there, with his longbow and
arrows shot at the seagulls as they flew by. Presently he espied a
large bird flying over from the westward. Its wings and body were
perfectly black. Slowly it came nearer and nearer, as though it
would cross the Serpent's bows. Einar worked his way along to the
end of the yard, and, steadying himself, fixed an arrow to the
string. As the bird came within easy bow shot the lad took aim.  But
as he drew the string he saw the great dusky bird open its stout
beak. He heard a hoarse croak, and knew it to be the croak of a
raven. Now the croaking of a raven was held in those times to be
a sound of very ill omen; it was also considered that the man who
killed one of these birds was certainly doomed to meet with speedy
misfortune. Einar slackened his bow, and the arrow slipped from his
fingers. In trying to catch it, he dropped his famous bow, Thamb,
and it fell into the sea. Now Einar treasured that bow beyond all
his worldly possessions. Without an instant's hesitation he stood
up upon the yard and leapt into the sea.

King Olaf, standing at the tiller, had seen all this, and he quickly
put over the helm and, bringing the Serpent round head to wind,
lay to while a boat was launched. Einar and his bow were rescued.
But meanwhile the Long Serpent was overtaken by all her companion
ships; and so it was that she was the last to enter the straits.

Earl Sigvaldi still held on in advance. But it was noticed that when
he came abreast of the cape whereon the three chiefs had stood, he
lowered his sails and steered his ships nearer inshore. The Norsemen
suspecting nothing, followed his example, and very soon King Olaf's
fleet gathered closer together. But when Thorkel the Wheedler came
up with the Crane he shouted aloud to Sigvaldi, asking him why he
did not sail. The earl replied that he intended to lie to until
King Olaf should rejoin him. So Thorkel struck sail also. But the
ships had still some way on them and the current was with them. They
drifted on until they came to a curve in the channel which opened
out into the bay where the host of King Sweyn and his allies waited
in ambush.

Now by this time the Short Serpent had come alongside of Sigvaldi,
and her captain, espying some of the enemy's fleet, questioned the
earl concerning them.

"Strangers they all are to me," answered Sigvaldi with an evil
look in his eyes. "But whoever they be, it seems that they are not
altogether friendly to us. I see their red war shields from where
I stand, and it looks very much as though a battle awaited us."

Then Thorkel Nefja had his oars brought out, and he steered the
Short Serpent round against the stream and went back with all speed
to meet the king.

"What do I see?" cried King Olaf. "Why have the ships struck sail?
And what is the meaning of your coming back?"

"It is because a great host of war galleys are lying in the farther
bay," answered Thorkel. "It is the host of King Sweyn of Denmark,
for I saw the banner on one of the longships, and it was like unto
the banners that Sweyn Fork Beard carried at the time when we were
with him in England. Turn back, I implore you, O king! Turn back
by the way we have come! For our fleet numbers but eleven keels,
while our foes have fully two score of dragons!"

The king stood on the lypting of the Long Serpent as he heard these
tidings. He turned to his mariners.

"Down with the sails! Out with the oars!" he cried with a loud
voice that could be clearly heard across the waters; and the men
quickly obeyed.

Still holding the tiller, Olaf kept his ship's prow ahead as before.

"Never yet have I fled from a battle," he called out to Thorkel
Nefja. "And although Sweyn Fork Beard had thrice two score of
warships, I would rather fight him than turn tail like a coward
hound. God rules over the lives of all Christian men, and why should
we fear to encounter King Sweyn and all his heathens? Let our cry
be 'Onward, Christ men; onward, Cross men!'"

Now when the Long Serpent, sweeping quickly along with all oars at
work, came nigh to her companions, Olaf saw that Earl Sigvaldi and
his vikings had passed on beyond the cape, while his own captains
had turned their prows about and were rowing back against the
current.

"Why do ye take to flight?" roared Olaf in an angry voice of thunder.
"Never will I fly from any earthly enemy. He is no worthy king who
shuns his foes because of fear. Reverse your ships and follow the
Long Serpent, be it to glory or to death!"

And now, taking the lead, he arrayed his ships in order, with the
Short Serpent and the Crane together in his immediate wake, and his
eight other longships following close behind. Proudly, and with all
his banners flying, he sailed into the bay. Before him, at about
a mile's distance, he saw the seventy warships of his foes. Their
vast number and their compact battle array might well have struck
fear into the heart of one who had but eleven galleys at his back.
But not for an instant did Olaf Triggvison shrink from the unequal
encounter. He brought his vessels to a halt, but it was not from
hesitation. It was only that, taken wholly unawares, he had need
to prepare for the coming battle. Taking down his great war horn
from the mast, he blew a resounding blast. His warriors understood
the call, and they hastily donned their armour, brought their arrows
and spears on deck and stood at their stations with a readiness
which showed how well their royal master had trained them.

Olaf himself went below into his cabin. He knelt for a time before
the crucifix in silent prayer, and then, with his stout heart well
prepared for all that might happen to him, put on his finest armour
and returned to the deck.

As he stood beside his fluttering banner--a snow white banner
with its blood red cross--he could easily be distinguished from
all who were near him. His tall majestic figure was crowned with
a crested helmet of pure gold. Over his well wrought coat of mail
he wore a short tunic of scarlet silk. His shield, with its jewelled
image of the crucified Christ shone in the sunlight and could be
distinctly seen by his awaiting foes.

Some of his companions warned him of the danger of thus exposing
himself and making himself a mark for his enemies. But he answered
proudly that he wished all men, both friends and foes, to see that
he shunned no danger.

"The more I am seen," he said, "and the less fear I show in the
battle, the more shall I inspire my brave friends with confidence
and my foes with fear and terror."

As he spoke, he saw that King Sweyn with his ships was rowing slowly
out into the mid bay to meet him, leaving two detachments in his
rear. There was no sign of haste on board of any one of the ships,
for all men knew that there was a long day's fight before them, and
that it was well to make all their preparations with slow caution.

For some time after he had come on deck King Olaf was more intent
upon observing his enemies than in arraying his own small armament.
He had seen from the first that it would be his place to assume the
defensive, and he had given the order for his ships to be drawn up
in line, broadside to broadside.

This order was being carried out as he now stood watching the
advance of his enemy's battle.

"Who is the captain of the host now drawing up against us?" he asked
of Bersi the Strong, one of his chieftains who stood near him. "By
the standard on his prow methinks I should know him well."

"King Sweyn of the Forkedbeard it is, with his forces from Denmark,"
was Bersi's answer.

"That is even as I thought," returned Olaf. "But we are not afraid
of those cowards, for no more courage is there in Danes than in
wood goats. Never yet were Danes victorious over Norsemen, and they
will not vanquish us today. But what chief flies the standards to
the right?"

"Those, lord, are the standards of Olaf the Swede King."

"The son of Queen Sigrid the Haughty stands in need of a little
practice in warfare," said Olaf. "But for the harm that he can
do us, he might well have stayed at home. And his heathen Sweden,
I think, would find it more agreeable to sit at the fireside and
lick their sacrificial bowls than to board the Long Serpent under
the rain of our weapons. We need not fear the horse eating Swedes.
But who owns those fine ships to the left of the Danes? A gallant
man he must be, for his men are far better arrayed than the rest
and much bolder of aspect in all ways."

"Earl Erik Hakonson is the owner of them," answered Bersi.

"He is the noblest champion who will fight against us today," said
Olaf, "and from him and the high born men that I see upon his decks
we may expect a hard battle. Earl Erik has just cause for attacking
us, and we must not forget that he and his crews are Norsemen like
ourselves. Now let us make ready!"

Then the king turned to his own ships. The eleven dragons had been
ranged side by side as he had ordered, with the Long Serpent in the
middle and the Crane and the Short Serpent at either side of her.
To right and to left of each of these four ships were placed. This
was a very small force, compared with the overwhelming numbers of
the enemy, and as Olaf glanced along his line he sorely missed the
fifty of his fleet that had gone out to seaward. Nevertheless he
did not allow his men to see that he was in any way anxious.

The seamen were now lashing the ships together stem by stem. Olaf
saw that they were tying the beak of the Long Serpent on a level
with the other prows, so that her poop stood out far behind. He
called out loudly to Ketil the Tall:

"Bring forward the large ship. Let her prow and not her stern stand
out. I will not lie behind my men when the battle begins!"

Then Wolf the Red, his standard bearer, whose station was forward
in the bow, mumbled a complaint:

"If the Serpent shall lie as far forward as she is longer than your
other ships, then there will be windy weather today in her bows."

The King answered: "I had the Serpent built longer than other ships,
so that she might be put forward more boldly in battle, and be well
known in fighting as in sailing. But when I chose her crew, I did
not know that I was appointing a stem defender who was both red
and adread."

This playful taunt ruffled Red Wolf, who replied insolently: "There
need be nothing said, lord, if you will guard the poop as well as
I shall guard the forecastle."

The king had a bow in his hand. He laid an arrow on the string and
turned it on Wolf, who cried:

"Shoot another way, king, and not at me but at your foes, for what
I win in the fight I win for Norway, and maybe you will find that
you have not over many men before the evening comes."

The king lowered the arrow and did not shoot. When the men had
finished lashing the ships together he again took his war horn
and blew a loud blast upon it that echoed and re-echoed along the
rocky shores of the island. As he turned to put the horn aside he
saw that Queen Thyra, alarmed by the growing tumult, had come up
on deck.

She looked out upon the bay, and seeing the enormous hostile fleet
that was closing in upon Olaf's diminished force she burst into
tears.

Olaf went to her side and laid his hand on her shoulder.

"You must not weep," he said gently. "Come, dry your tears; for now
you have gotten what was due to you in Wendland; and today I mean
to demand of your brother Sweyn the tooth gift which you have so
often asked me for."



CHAPTER XXI: THE BATTLE IN SVOLD SOUND.


King Olaf stood on the poop deck of the Long Serpent, a conspicuous
figure among his fighting men, with his gold wrought helm towering
high above the others' heads. From this position he could survey
the movements of his foes, command the actions of his own shipmen,
and direct the defence. From this place also he could fire his arrows
and fling his spears over the heads of his Norsemen. His quivers
were filled with picked arrows, and he had near him many racks of
javelins. The larger number of his chosen chiefs--as Kolbiorn
Stallare, Thorfinn the Dashing, Ketil the Tall, and Thorstein
Oxfoot--had their stations forward on the forecastle deck or in
the "close quarters" nearer the prow. These stood ready with their
spears and swords to resist boarders, and they were protected by
the shield men, who were ranged before them at the bulwarks with
their shields locked together. At various points of vantage groups of
archers had been placed, the best marksmen being stationed before
the mast, where no rigging or cordage would mar their aim. At this
part stood Einar Eindridson throughout the whole battle. Loud and
shrill sounded the war horns from both sides. Nearer and nearer King
Sweyn of Denmark drew onward to the attack. The wind had fallen,
the sea was calm; the sun hung hot and glaring in a cloudless sky,
flashing on burnished helmet and gilded dragon head. King Olaf's
prows were pointed towards the north, so that the enemy as they
came down upon him had the strong midday sunlight in their eyes.
King Sweyn Fork Beard opened his attack with a shower of arrows
directed at the stem defenders of the Long Serpent. King Olaf's
archers at once replied in like manner. This exchange of arrows
was continued without ceasing while Sweyn's ships came onward at
their fullest speed. Then, as the Danes drew yet closer under the
Norsemen's prows, arrows gave place to javelins and spears, which
were hurled with unerring aim from side to side.

Sweyn's men turned their stems towards both bows of the Long Serpent,
as she stood much further forward than any others of Olaf's ships.
Many who could not approach this coveted position turned their
attention to the Short Serpent and the Crane. And now the battle
raged fiercely. Yet the Norsemen stood firm as a wall of rock, while
the Danes, assailed by a heavy rain of spears and arrows from the
Serpent's decks, began to lose heart ere ever a man of them was
able to make his way through the close bulwark of shields. Olaf's
prows were so lofty that they could not be scaled, while the defenders,
from their higher stand, had full command over their foes. Thrand
Squint Eye and Ogmund Sandy were the first of the Norsemen to fall.
These two leapt down upon the deck of King Sweyn's dragon, where,
after a tough hand to hand fight, in which they vanquished nine
of the Dane King's foremost warriors, they were slain. Kolbiorn
Stallare was very angry at these two having broken the ranks, and
he gave the order that none of the Norsemen were to attempt to
board the enemy's ships without express command.

Sweyn's ship lay under the larboard bow of the Serpent, and Wolf
the Red had thrown out grappling hooks, holding her there. She was
a longship, of twenty banks of oars, and her crew were the pick of
all the warmen of Denmark. Sharp and fierce was the fight at this
side, and great was the carnage. While Kolbiorn and others of Olaf's
stem defenders kept up an incessant battle with their javelins and
swords, King Olaf and his archers shot their arrows high in air so
that they fell in thick rain upon the Danish decks. Yet the Danes,
and the Swedes from the rear, were not slow to retaliate. Although
they found it impossible to board the Serpent, they nevertheless
could assail her crowded decks with arrows and well aimed spears,
and the Norsemen fell in great numbers. In the meantime Sweyn's
other ships--not one of which was larger than the smallest of
King Olaf's eleven dragons--made a vigorous onset upon Olaf's
left and right wings. The Norsemen fought with brave determination,
and as one after another of the Dane ships was cleared of men it was
drawn off to the rear, and its place was occupied by yet another
ship, whose warriors, fresh and eager, renewed the onset. All along
Olaf's line there was not one clear space, not a yard's breadth of
bulwark unoccupied by fighting men. The air was filled with flying
arrows and flashing spears and waving swords. The clang of the
weapons upon the metal shields, the dull thud of blows, the wild
shouts of the warriors and cries of the wounded, mingled together
in a loud vibrating murmur. To Earl Sigvaldi, who lay with his
ships apart at the far end of the bay, it sounded like the humming
of bees about a hive. Not only at the prows, but also behind at
the sterns of Olaf's compact host, did the Danes attempt to board.
The Norsemen, indeed, were completely surrounded by their foemen.
King Olaf fought from the poop deck of the Serpent with no less
vigour than did Kolbiorn and his stem defenders at the prow. He
assailed each ship as it approached with showers of well directed
arrows. Then, as the stem of one of the Danish longships crashed
into his vessel's stern, he dropped his longbow and caught up his
spears, one in either hand, and hurled them into the midst of his
clamouring foes. Time after time he called to his followers, and
led them with a fierce rush down upon the enemy's decks, sweeping
all before him. Seven of King Sweyn's vessels did he thus clear;
and at last no more came, and for a time he had rest. But a great
cry from the Serpent's forecastle warned him that his stem men
were having a hard struggle. So he gathered his men together and
led them forward. Many were armed with battleaxes, others with
spears, and all with swords. Calling to his shield bearers to make
way for him, he pressed through the gap and leapt down upon the
deck of Sweyn Forkbeard's dragon.

"Onward, Christ men, Cross men!" he cried as full three score of
his bravest warriors followed close at his back. And he cut his way
through the crowd of Danes, who, led by Sweyn himself, had been
making a final rally and preparing to board the Serpent. King
Sweyn was wounded in the right arm by a blow from Kolbiorn's sword.
Kolbiorn was about to repeat the blow when several of the Danes,
retreating aft, crowded between him and their king. Sweyn drew back,
and crying aloud to his men to follow him, turned tail and led them
over the bulwarks on to the deck of a ship that was alongside of
him. This ship, which had not yet been secured by the Norsemen's
grappling irons, he now withdrew to the farther shores of the bay.
As he thus retreated from the battle he sounded his horns, calling
off those of his ships that were not yet altogether vanquished.
Tired, wounded, and despairing, he owned himself no match for Olaf
the Glorious. He had made the attack with five and forty fully
manned warships, and yet all this great force had been as nothing
against the superior skill and courage of the defenders. Thus it
befell, as Olaf Triggvison had guessed, that the Danes did not gain
a victory over the Norsemen. While the Danes were in full retreat
the Swedes hastened forward to renew the attack. The Swedish king,
believing that Olaf Triggvison must certainly have suffered terrible
loss at the hands of the Danes, had the fullest hope that he would
take very little time in turning the defeat of King Sweyn into a
victory for himself. He had already, from a distance, kept up an
intermittent fire of arrows into the midst of the Norse ships, and
it may be that he had thus helped to reduce King Olaf's strength.
He now rowed proudly upon the left wing of the Norse fleet. Here
he divided his own forces, sending one division to an attack upon
Olaf's prows, and himself rowing round to the rear. Many of the
disabled Dane ships barred his way, but he at last brought his
own longship under the poop of the Long Serpent. This interval had
given the Norsemen a brief respite in which to clear their disordered
decks and refresh themselves with welcome draughts of cooling water
which their chief ordered to be served round.

Vain were the Swede king's hopes. When he advanced upon the Serpent
Olaf Triggvison was ready to meet him, refreshed by his brief rest,
unwounded still, and with his warlike spirit burning eager within
him.

"Let us not lose courage at the sight of these heathen devourers
of horse flesh!" he cried as he rallied his men. "Onward, my brave
Christians! It is for Christ's faith that we fight today. Christ's
cross against Thor's hammer! Christian against pagan!"

Then, when the anchors and grappling hooks were fastened upon the
Swede king's ship, Olaf hastened to the rail and assailed her men
first with javelin and long spear, and then with sword. So high
was the Serpent's poop above the other's stem that the Norsemen
had to bring their weapons to bear right down below the level of
their sandalled feet, and whenever the Swedish soldiers, emboldened
by seeing an occasional gap in King Olaf's ranks, tried to climb
on board, they were hewn down or thrown back into the sea.

At last Olaf of Sweden came forward with a strong body of swordsmen
and axemen, intent upon being the first of the three hostile princes
to plant his foot on the deck of the Long Serpent. Olaf Triggvison
saw him approaching, and again calling his Norsemen to follow him,
he leapt over the rail and landed on the enemy's deck. The son
of Queen Sigrid stood still on his forecastle. His face suddenly
blanched, but he gripped his sword, ready to encounter Norway's
king. Here the two Olafs met and crossed swords, and a desperate
duel ensued. Scarcely had they made half a dozen passes when Olaf
Triggvison, with a quick movement of his wrist, struck his opponent's
sword from his grasp and it fell on the deck.

"Too bold is Queen Sigrid's son," cried Olaf, "if he thinks to board
the Long Serpent. Now have I got you in my power and might put an
end to you and your worship of heathen idols. But never shall it be
said that Olaf Triggvison struck down a foe who was unarmed. Pick
up your blade, proud King of the Swedes, and let us see who is the
better man, you or I."

So when Swedish Olaf stood again on guard, the two crossed swords
once more.

"Now will I avenge the insult you offered my mother!" cried Olaf
Sigridson, "and you who struck her on the cheek with your glove
shall be struck dead with a weapon of well tempered steel instead
of foxskin."

"Guard well your head," returned Triggvison, "lest I knock off your
helmet. The man who taught you the use of the sword might have been
better employed, for in truth he has taught you very little."

"He has taught me enough to enable me to slay such a man as you!"
cried the Swede, gathering his strength for a mighty blow.

"That remains to be proved," retorted Olaf Triggvison. "Wait! you
have got the wrong foot foremost!"

But without heeding, the Swede king brought down his sword with a
great sweep, aiming at Olaf Triggvison's head. As with a lightning
flash Olaf raised his sword to meet the blow. His opponent's blade
was broken in two halves, while at the same moment he fell severely
wounded upon the deck.

"Swedish sword blades are good," said Olaf Triggvison, "but the
swords of the Norsemen are better."

He thought that he had made an end of the King of Sweden. But
some of the Swedish soldiers who had been watching the duel rushed
forward, and, raising their fallen king, carried him off on board
another of his ships, while Olaf Triggvison went aft along the
crowded decks, and men fell beneath his blows, as the ripe grain
falls before the mower's scythe. It happened to the Swedes, as to
the Danes, that notwithstanding their superior numbers they found
that they were ill matched in skill and prowess with the Norsemen.
Their picked champions were speedily killed or wounded, their best
ships were disabled, and although they had indeed reduced Olaf
Triggvison's forces by about half, yet they had not succeeded in
boarding any one of his ships, much less in carrying any of them
off as prizes. As King Sweyn had retreated, so did King Olaf of
Sweden. His ships were called off from the combat and withdrawn
out of range of the Norsemen's arrows. He had won no fame by his
daring attack, but only ignominious defeat, and he was fain to
escape alive, albeit very badly wounded.

Thus Olaf Triggvison had made both the Danes and the Swedes take
to flight, and it had all befallen as he had said.

And now it must be told how Earl Erik Hakonson fared in that fight.
True to the agreement which he and the two allied kings had come to
over their dice throwing on the morning of that same fateful day,
he had stood apart from the battle while Sweyn had vainly striven to
make a prize of the Long Serpent; and during the midday and until
the retreat of King Sweyn he had engaged no more in the conflict than
to direct his arrows from afar into the thick of Olaf Triggvison's
host. Now, Earl Erik was wise in warfare, and a man of keen judgment.
He had fought with his father in the great battle against Sigvaldi
and the vikings of Jomsburg, and from what he had seen on that day
of Olaf Triggvison's prowess, and from what he had since heard of
Olaf's warfare in England and other lands, he had made a very true
estimate of the man who now fought in defence of the Long Serpent.
He had also seen Sweyn Forkbeard in the thick of battle, and Olaf
of Sweden no less. He was, therefore, well able to judge that neither
the king of the Danes nor the king of the Swedes was capable of
overcoming so brave and mighty a warrior as the king of the Norsemen,
or of wresting the Long Serpent from the man who had built her and
who knew so well how to defend his own. Pride in his own countryman
may have had some share in the forming of this opinion. But Earl
Erik had fought against the men of every land in Scandinavia. He
had a firm belief that the men of Norway were braver and bolder,
stronger in body, more skilful in the use of their weapons, and
had greater powers of endurance than any of their neighbours. And
it may be that in this he was right. He at least saw cause for
thinking that the only men who could succeed in vanquishing King
Olaf's Norsemen were the Norsemen of Earl Erik Hakonson. Earl Erik's
vikings and berserks, eagerly watching the fray, had seen how the
Danish ships had one after another been driven off, disabled and
defeated. They had watched every movement of the tall and splendid
form of the Norse king as he fought in his shining armour and his
bright red tunic on the Serpent's lypting. For a time they had not
been certain whether Olaf Triggvison was at the stem or on the
poop of his great dragonship, for it was seen that at each of these
important points there was a tall chief whose prowess and whose
attire alike distinguished him from all other men; and these two
champions so resembled one the other that it was not easy to tell
which was Kolbiorn Stallare and which King Olaf. But Earl Erik
had not a moment's doubt. He would have known Olaf Triggvison had
a score of such men as Kolbiorn been at his side. Earl Erik was the
eldest son of the evil Earl Hakon who had fled from Thrandheim at
the time of Olaf's coming into Norway, and been slain while taking
refuge at the farmstead of Rimul, and Erik had naturally hoped
that on his father's death he would succeed to the throne. Olaf
Triggvison had shattered all his plans of future glory; and during
the five years that had already passed of King Olaf's reign he
thirsted for such an opportunity as now presented itself, not only
of avenging his father's death but also, it might be, of placing
himself upon the throne of Norway. His only uneasiness at the present
moment arose from his fear lest King Olaf should be overcome in the
battle ere he had himself encountered him face to face and hand to
hand.

While the King of Sweden and his forces were engaged with their
attack upon Olaf's centre of battle, Earl Erik adopted a plan which,
although seemingly more hopeless, was in the end more successful
than any that had yet been attempted by either the Danes or the
Swedes. He saw that while the Long Serpent continued to be supported
on either side by five strong and well manned dragonships she was
practically unassailable. Her poop and her prow were the only points
of her hull that were exposed, and these towered so high above the
bulwarks of all other vessels that to attempt to board her was both
useless and dangerous. Herein lay the secret of Olaf's successful
defence, the proof of his forethought and wisdom in building the
Serpent so much larger and higher than all other vessels in his
fleet. Earl Erik, indeed, had observed that every ship that had
approached her, either fore or aft, had been in its turn completely
cleared of men or forced to withdraw out of the conflict.

Urging his rowers to their fullest speed, Erik bore down with his
ships upon the extreme of King Olaf's right wing. The heavy, iron
bound bow of the Ram crashed into the broadside of Olaf's outermost
longship, whose timber creaked and groaned under the impact.
Vikings and berserks leapt down upon her decks, and now Norseman
met Norseman in a terrible, deadly combat. The king's men were
well nigh exhausted with the long day's fighting under the hot sun;
their bronzed faces streamed with perspiration, their limbs moved
wearily. But, however, tired and thirsty they were, they could
give themselves no respite. Every man that fell or was disabled by
wounds left a gap in the ranks that could not be filled. The earl's
men were fresh and vigorous; they had waited for hours for their
chief's orders to enter the fray, and now that those orders had
been given to them they fought with hot fury, yelling their battle
cries and cutting down their foemen with ponderous axe and keen
edged sword.

So fierce was the onslaught that many of Olaf's men, for the first
time that day, fell back in fear and clambered over the bulwarks
of the next ship. Very soon the decks of the first longship were
completely cleared of defenders. Then Earl Erik backed out with the
Iron Ram, while the seamen on his other ships cut away the lashings
that had bound Olaf's outermost vessel to her neighbour, and drew
the conquered craft away into the rear, leaving the next ship
exposed.

Again Earl Erik advanced with the Ram and crashed as before into
the exposed broadside of the outermost ship. As before, the vikings
leapt on board and renewed the onset. Five of the viking ships lay
with their high prows overshadowing the broadside bulwarks, and
their men swarmed and clamoured upon the decks from stem to stern,
clearing all before them. Again the lashings were cut and the
conquered longship was withdrawn.

Two of King Olaf's dragons had now been captured by Earl Erik. It
was not very long ere yet two others followed; and then the Short
Serpent was exposed, even as her four companions had been. At this
juncture Earl Erik paused, for he saw that Thorkel Nefja's decks
were densely crowded with men who had retreated from vessel to
vessel before the onslaught of the vikings. With the caution which
long years of viking work had taught him, the earl decided that
the Short Serpent might best be assailed by means of arrows, fired
from a safe distance, until her numbers had been sufficiently
diminished to warrant his attacking her at closer quarters. So he
arrayed six of his ships near hand and set his archers to work,
and for a long while this method of assault was continued.

There was no lack of arrows on the Short Serpent, or indeed, on any
other of King Olaf's battleships. But it was noticed by the earl's
vikings that the larger number of the shafts that were shot at
them by the defenders were of Danish or Swedish make, and by this
it was judged that the king's men were using the arrows that had
been fired upon them by their enemies.

Leaving his six ships where he had stationed them, Earl Erik now
rowed the Iron Ram round to the left wing of Olaf Triggvison's
array. Four of his best longships followed him. He passed astern
of the king's fleet. As he rowed by under the poop of the Long
Serpent he saw the majestic figure of the King of Norway, looking
brilliant in gold and scarlet as he stood in flood of the afternoon
sunlight, sword in hand and shield at breast. The eyes of the two
bravest of Norse warriors met. Waving his sword in mock salute,
Earl Erik cried aloud:

"Short will be Olaf's shrift when Erik boards the Long Serpent!"

King Olaf saw that near to where Erik stood, on the Iron Ram's
forward deck, the image of the god Thor was raised, and he cried
aloud in answer:

"Never shall Erik board the Serpent while Thor dwells in his stem!"

"A wise soothsayer is the king," said Earl Erik to one of his
warriors as he passed onward astern of the Crane. "And I have been
thinking, ever since this battle began that the great luck of Olaf
may be due to that sign of the cross that we see on all his banners
and shields. Often have I felt a wish to turn Christian, for it
seems to me that all Christian men have something noble and honest
about them--a greatness which we heathens can never achieve. Now
do I swear upon the hilt of my sword"--he raised his sword hilt
to his lips--"that if I win this battle and take the Long Serpent
for my prize I will straightway allow myself to be christened. And,
to begin with, I will have that image of Thor thrown overboard into
the sea. It is ill made and cumbrous, and a figure of the cross
will take less room in our stem and bring us more luck withal."

So speaking, Earl Erik stepped forward and, gripping the idol
in his strong arms, flung it over the bulwark. Then he lashed two
spars together, a long plank crossed with a shorter one, and raised
this rough made crucifix high in the stem of the Iron Ram. By this
time his vessel had passed beyond the extreme of King Olaf's left
wing. He bade his rowers stop their rowing on the starboard side.
They did so, and the ship turned about. Then at fullest speed he
bore down upon the king's outermost dragon, crashed into her side
and renewed his onslaught.

Erik dealt with the left wing as he had done with the right, and
one after another of the four ships was cleared and unlashed. And
now the Long Serpent lay with only two companions, the Short Serpent
at her starboard and the Crane at her larboard side.

Already the Short Serpent was greatly crippled. Her commander,
Thorkel Nefja, had fallen, and the larger number of her men had
retreated on board of Olaf's ship, driven thither by the vikings of
the six vessels that were now ranged close against her. Earl Erik
now made a vigorous attack upon the Crane. He boarded her with a vast
crowd of his vikings. On the mid deck he encountered her captain,
Thorkel the Wheedler, and the two engaged in a sharp hand to hand
fight. Regardless of his own life, Thorkel fought with savage fury.
He knew how much depended upon his preventing Erik from boarding
the king's ship. But he had already received a severe wound from a
javelin across the fingers of his right hand, and he was full weary
from the heat and long fighting. His assailant speedily overcame
him, and he fell, calling upon God to save the king. As Thorkel had
fought, so fought his men--desperately, furiously, but yet weakly,
and at last both the Crane and the Short Serpent were cleared;
their lashings were unfastened, they were withdrawn to the rear,
and King Olaf's great dragonship stood alone among her foes.



CHAPTER XXII: THE DEFENCE OF THE "LONG SERPENT"


The sun was sinking lower and lower to the sea; light clouds were
gathering in the western sky. But there would yet be three hours
of daylight, and Earl Erik deemed that this would be ample time in
which to win the Long Serpent. His own decks were thickly strewn
with dead; his men were weary and athirst, and he saw need for
a respite from fighting, if only for a very brief while. Also he
saw on coming nearer to King Olaf's ship that it would be no easy
matter to win on board of her; for the Iron Ram was but a third of
her length, and her highest bulwarks reached only to a level with
the oar holes in the Serpent's wales.

Erik blew his horns for a short truce. His ships were drawn off,
and for a time the battle ceased. In this interval the combatants
on both sides rested themselves and took food and drink. King Olaf
had his decks cleared of the dead, sent the wounded below into
the shelter of the holds, and arrayed his men anew. He was himself
unwounded still, but his silken tunic was tattered, so that the
links of his coat of mail showed through. His helmet was battered
by the many spears and swords that had struck upon it, and his
shield bristled with broken arrows.

When he had freshened himself and got together a new supply of
arrows and spears, he mounted to the poop deck, and there, standing
in the sunlight, looked around the bay. The water was strewn with
wreckage, an arrow floated on every wave. Small boats had been put
out to pick up the men who had fallen, or been thrust overboard
from the ships. All was silent now, save for the suppressed cries
of the wounded and the hoarse voices of the chiefs who were giving
rapid orders to their men for the renewal of the fight.

Earl Erik's ships, among which there were also some of the Swedes
and Danes, stood off from the Serpent at a distance of an easy
arrow's flight. They surrounded the Serpent like a pack of eager
wolves held at bay; and the most eager of all men there present
was Earl Erik.

When he had prepared his men he said to a chief who stood near him
-- Thorkel the High, it was, brother of Earl Sigvaldi:

"Many fierce battles have I fought; but never before have I found
men equally brave and so skilled in warfare as the men fighting
for King Olaf today; nor have I ever seen a ship so hard to win as
the Long Serpent. Now, as you are one of the wisest of men, Thorkel,
give me the best advice you know as to how that great ship may be
won."

"I cannot give you sure advice," Thorkel answered: "but I can say
what seems to me the best; and I would say that you would do well,
when we presently come alongside, to take heavy timbers or such
like weighty things, and let them fall across the gunwale of the
Serpent, so that the ship will lean over. You will then find it
easier to board her, for she will be brought down by the weight to
a level with our own bulwarks."

"The advice is good," said Erik, "and I will follow it."

As he spoke, there came the loud blast of King Olaf's war horns,
calling to his foes to come on.

The Iron Ram, and other ships, to the number of fifteen, then closed
in about the Serpent, and, as they advanced, the archers on their
decks opened battle by shooting their arrows high in air, so that
they fell into the midst of Olaf's men in an unremitting shower.
Olaf's warriors, one and all, raised their shields above their
heads and held them there while the rain of shafts pattered upon
them with a loud drumming noise that could be heard far across
the bay. Many of the men were killed and many more wounded by this
terrible hail, and when at length the shooting ceased, every shield
was found to be closely bristled with arrows.

Earl Erik bore down upon the Serpent with the Iron Ram, whose heavy
stem struck her amidships with tremendous force, so that the men
on her decks were thrown off their feet. The good ship creaked in
all her beams, but no great damage was done. Erik shipped his oars
and drew his vessel close alongside, and at once his men began to
heave great planks and logs of wood over the Serpent's gunwale.
In this work they were speedily stopped, for Olaf's spearmen and
archers on the deck of the foreroom assailed them with their weapons
in such wise that they dared not continue. Not to be outdone, Erik
had all his long oars brought on deck, and with these he made a
bridge from the top of his foreroom across to the Serpent's gunwale.
In this work he lost many of his men, who were shot down by Einar
Eindridson and others of the king's best marksmen. But a gangway
was made, nevertheless, and the chief difficulty was surmounted.

Not yet did Earl Erik attempt to board King Olaf's dragon. He sent
many of his best men on board, armed with axe and sword. Most of
them crossed the gangway to certain death; but many of the king's
men also fell, both from wounds and from sheer exhaustion. It
was amidships that the toughest fighting went on, and it was here
that the larger number of the defenders met their death. But at
the foreroom and the stem of the Serpent the fray was also of the
fiercest. Company after company of the vikings clambered on board,
for so fully were the king's men occupied in guarding their own
lives that they could give little heed to their foes, who seemed to
come from every point, not only from the Iron Ram, but also from
other ships that were now drawn close in against the Serpent's
hull. For every viking or Dane or Swede who fell, there were ten
ready to take his place. The clang of weapons was now at its highest.
Spears and arrows flew in the midst, not aimed at random, but each
at its own particular mark, and each carrying death on its keen
point.

King Olaf, surrounded by a burg of shields, flung his spears and
shot his arrows with untiring vigour; but often he paused to watch
how the battle fared or to give some new order to his men. He saw
that his stem defenders were quickly becoming fewer and fewer, and
that those who yet remained wielded their weapons with slow and
heavy strokes. In a momentary lull of the conflict he left his own
post and went forward.

"Why do you raise your weapons so slowly?" he cried. "I see they
do not bite!"

Bersi the Strong replied: "Our swords are both dull and broken,
lord."

The king then went into the foreroom, unlocked the high seat chest
and took therefrom many bright and sharp swords which he carried
out in his arms and put down among his men. As he bent over the
weapons and picked out a very fine one to give to Bersi the Strong,
Kolbiorn saw that blood flowed out of the sleeve of his coat of mail.
Others saw the blood; but no one knew where the king was wounded.
Then Olaf strode back to the lypting deck and once more surveyed
the battle from on high. He saw that his stem defenders, to whom he
had served new weapons, had now become so furious that they leapt
upon the gunwales in order to reach their foes with their swords
and kill them. But many of Earl Erik's ships did not lie so close
to the Serpent as to afford any hand to hand fighting. The vikings
were still cautious of Olaf's champions. Still, many of the king's
men thought of nothing but going constantly forward, and in their
eagerness and daring they seemed to forget that they were not on
dry land. They went straight overboard, and several sank down with
their weapons between the ships. Olaf was very angry at their want
of care, for he now deemed every man of more value than ten had been
at the beginning of the battle. Nevertheless, it was easy to see
that the greater loss was on the side of Earl Erik. Olaf's archers
and spearmen dealt such destruction that the victory for Norway
seemed to become more possible with every moment.

Now Earl Erik had found very soon that his gangway of oars was by
no means satisfactory, because while his men were crossing they
became so fully exposed to King Olaf's marksmen that of every
three who started only one succeeded in gaining a foothold on the
Serpent's deck. Many hundreds of men--vikings, Swedes, and Danes
-- lost their lives on this bridge. So when Erik saw that King
Olaf was gaining the upper hand of him he got his berserks to take
down the oars and to fling them over the Serpent's nearer gunwale,
together with all logs of wood, spars, ballast stones, and other
weighty things that could be found. And as the weight increased so
did the Serpent lean over, until at last her bulwarks were almost
on a level with those of the Iron Ram.

While the vikings were at this work a constant rain of arrows and
javelins was showered upon them by King Olaf himself and his marksmen
on the poop, and as Erik saw his best men falling he half repented
having taken them from the fight. But when the great obstacle that
had baffled him so long was overcome, he rallied his vikings, and
placing himself at their head, led them on board the Serpent. And
now ensued one of the sharpest combats that had been seen that day.

Olaf's voice sounded loud above the tumult, calling to his chiefs
in the bow to leave their station and resist the boarders in the
waist. Wolf the Red, Ogmund Sandy, and Thrand Squinteye had already
fallen, and Ketil the Tall and Vikar of Tiundaland had been sent
below seriously wounded. But there still remained Kolbiorn Stallare,
Thorstein Oxfoot, Bersi the Strong, and Thorfinn the Dashing; and
these champions gathered a score of men about them, and hastening
aft to the midships deck, turned against Earl Erik and made a very
hard resistance.

Bersi the Strong encountered the earl hand to hand, their swords
clashed, a few blows were exchanged and dexterously guarded; then
Bersi fell. Thorfinn the Dashing took his place, and while the earl
and he were fighting their hardest, Thorstein Oxfoot and Kolbiorn
engaged with four of the earl's vikings. Kolbiorn felled two of
them and turned to a third. Then Thorstein Oxfoot's sword was struck
from his hand. Thorstein doubled his fist and struck his opponent
on the cheek. The viking stumbled, and Thorstein snatched up the
half of a broken oar and wielding it above his head rushed among
the vikings, belabouring them right and left. When King Olaf saw
this he called aloud to Thorstein in a loud voice of command:

"Take your weapons, man, and defend yourself with them fairly.
Weapons, and not fists or timber, are meant for men to fight with
in battle!"

Thorstein then recovered his sword and fought valiantly.

There was still a most fierce fight going on between the earl's men
and Olaf's champions. Kolbiorn vanquished the third viking he had
engaged with, while Earl Erik was pressed back and back by Thorfinn
the Dashing. Then Thorfinn caught sight of King Olaf, and at a sign
from the king he lowered his blade and drew back a pace. Before
Earl Erik could understand, a javelin whizzed past his left ear
and buried its point in the bulwark behind him. He turned to see
who had flung the javelin and saw King Olaf standing by the poop
rail poising a second spear. The king flung his weapon, taking
good aim; but this spear missed its mark as the first had done.
King Olaf bit his lip in vexation, but as the earl turned quickly
to beat a retreat on board the Ram, Olaf flung a third javelin
after him. It struck the crest of Erik's helmet, but did no harm.

"Never before did I thus miss a man!" cried the king as he watched
his enemy's retreat. "Great is Earl Erik's luck today. It must be
God's will that he now shall rule in Norway; and that is not strange,
for I see that he has changed the stem dweller on the Iron Ram.
I said today that he would not gain victory over us if he had the
image of Thor in his stem."

Now young Einar Eindridson had by this time taken up his position
in front of the poop deck, where he found he could command a better
sweep of the Iron Ram's deck, and so pick off Earl Erik's champions.
Einar saw the vexation in King Olaf's face, and when he got a good
chance he levelled his aim against Earl Erik. He drew his bow. The
arrow flew from the string and went straight to its mark. But in
the same instant the earl suddenly moved round his head, so that
the arrow, meant for his bared temple, only grazed his ear.

"Shoot me that tall, beardless youth!" cried the earl, pointing
at Einar. "Full fifty of our best men has he slain with his arrows
this day!"

Finn Eyvindson, to whom Erik spoke, aimed an arrow at Einar just
as the lad was bending his bow for a second shot at the earl. The
arrow hit Einar's famous bow in the middle and broke it with a loud
snap.

"What was it that broke?" asked King Olaf.

Einar answered sadly as he dropped the pieces of his bow:

"Norway from thy hands, my king!"

"So great was not the breach, I hope," King Olaf said. "Take my
bow and shoot with it instead."

Einar seized the king's bow and straightway drew it right over the
arrowhead, bending it almost double.

"Too weak, too weak is the king's bow," said he, casting it aside.
Then, for the first time that day, he took his shield and sword
and rushed into the fray. No man in all King Olaf's host had slain
more men in that battle than Einar with his arrows; and now the
lad made himself no less distinguished with his sword.

Earl Erik presently saw that the sun was sinking nearer and nearer
to the line of the sea. The number of his men had become woefully
small, and yet, as he believed, Olaf Triggvison was still unwounded,
undaunted, and as full of confident hope as he had ever shown
himself to be. So the earl decided to make one more effort after
the victory and to risk his all in a final hand to hand encounter
with the King of the Norsemen. Gathering all his available men
together he prepared to make a rush upon the Long Serpent's deck.

King Olaf, seeing the earl's design, called his men aft, and ranged
them in a compact body in front of the poop deck, ready to meet
their foes.

At the same time Kolbiorn Stallare went up to Olaf's side, and the
two, so much alike in size and dress, stood shoulder to shoulder,
with their shields before them and their swords in their hands. A
row of shield bearers stood in front of them. Then, with wild yells,
the vikings, led by Earl Erik, rushed upon the mid deck.

As it had been throughout the whole day's battle, so was it now.
King Olaf's men were greatly outnumbered; it was a conflict of
skill and endurance against overwhelming odds. This final contest,
while it lasted, was fierce and terrible. In a short time, however,
many of King Olaf's champions fell. Brave and strong though they
were, they could not withstand the furious onslaught of the ambitious
and valiant Earl Erik. For a moment Olaf Triggvison was tempted to
rush down and join the poor remnant of his men. He pressed forward
to the stairs; but Kolbiorn Stallare drew him back.

"Wait, lord!" he cried; and then he whispered in Olaf's ear, and
they both strode slowly aft to the rail. Here King Olaf turned and
spoke to one of the shield bearers.

"How many of our men now remain?" he asked.

The man counted.

"Twelve are still left," he answered.

In a little while the king repeated his question.

"There are now but six," was the answer.

And then there came the sound of hurried feet upon the stairs,
and Einar Eindridson rushed upon the upper deck, followed by three
of his shipmates, and pursued by Earl Erik and a great crowd of
clamouring vikings.

"Death to King Olaf!" cried the earl, in a voice which, in the silence
that suddenly fell upon the ships, could be heard far across the
bay. In that moment King Olaf and Kolbiorn leapt upon the rail,
paused there amid the red light of the setting sun, and then,
raising their shields above their heads, threw themselves over into
the sea.

A cry that was half a groan escaped Earl Erik's lips. Flinging
his sword aside, he went to the rail where King Olaf had stood.
He looked down into the sea. Shadows were creeping over it. For a
moment he saw the two swimmers. So much alike were they, each with
his flowing gold hair, his crested helm, and his tattered red silk
tunic, that it was impossible to tell which was the king. Presently
one disappeared. The other was assailed by arrows and spears, but
instantly he turned over and held his shield above him.

"It is the king! It is Olaf the King!" was the cry and boats were
put out to rescue him. But Einar Eindridson kept his eyes upon the
waves until at last, in the midst of a bright beam of sunlight far
away he saw the shield of King Olaf appear, with its glistening
image of the holy cross. And when the word went round that the
rescued man was Kolbiorn Stallare and not the king, the lad pointed
outward upon the sea and all looked in amaze upon the shining
crucifix as it rose and fell with the motion of the waves.

The tale is told that the king, as he swam beneath the cover of his
shield, stripped off his armour and, making his way to the land,
went away on a pilgrimage to Rome. But the young grew old, and the
world went on, and never again did King Olaf the Glorious come back
to his realm in Norway.








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