10: Reign of King Olaf the Saint
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The late two Jarls, now gone about their business, had both been
baptized, and called themselves Christians. But during their
government they did nothing in the conversion way; left every man to
choose his own God or Gods; so that some had actually two, the
Christian God by land, and at sea Thor, whom they considered safer in
that element. And in effect the mass of the people had fallen back
into a sluggish heathenism or half-heathenism, the life-labor of Olaf
Tryggveson lying ruinous or almost quite overset. The new Olaf, son
of Harald, set himself with all his strength to mend such a state of
matters; and stood by his enterprise to the end, as the one highest
interest, including all others, for his People and him. His method
was by no means soft; on the contrary, it was hard, rapid,
severe,—somewhat on the model of Tryggveson's, though with more of
bishoping and preaching superadded. Yet still there was a great
deal of mauling, vigorous punishing, and an entire intolerance of
these two things: Heathenism and Sea-robbery, at least of Sea-robbery
in the old style; whether in the style we moderns still practise, and
call privateering, I do not quite know. But Vikingism proper had to
cease in Norway; still more, Heathenism, under penalties too severe to
he borne; death, mutilation of limb, not to mention forfeiture and
less rigorous coercion. Olaf was inexorable against violation of the
law. "Too severe," cried many; to whom one answers, "Perhaps in part
yes, perhaps also in great part no; depends altogether on the
previous question, How far the law was the eternal one of God Almighty
in the universe, How far the law merely of Olaf (destitute of right
inspiration) left to his own passions and whims?"
Many were the jangles Olaf had with the refractory Heathen Things and
Ironbeards of a new generation: very curious to see. Scarcely ever
did it come to fighting between King and Thing, though often enough
near it; but the Thing discerning, as it usually did in time, that the
King was stronger in men, seemed to say unanimously to itself, "We
have lost, then; baptize us, we must burn our old gods and conform."
One new feature we do slightly discern: here and there a touch of
theological argument on the heathen side. At one wild Thing, far up
in the Dovrefjeld, of a very heathen temper, there was much of that;
not to be quenched by King Olaf at the moment; so that it had to be
adjourned till the morrow, and again till the next day. Here are some
traits of it, much abridged from Snorro (who gives a highly punctual
account), which vividly represent Olaf's posture and manner of
proceeding in such intricacies.
The chief Ironbeard on this occasion was one Gudbrand, a very rugged
peasant; who, says Snorro, was like a king in that district. Some
days before, King Olaf, intending a religious Thing in those deeply
heathen parts, with alternative of Christianity or conflagration, is
reported, on looking down into the valley and the beautiful village of
Loar standing there, to have said wistfully, "What a pity it is that
so beautiful a village should be burnt!" Olaf sent out his
message-token all the, same, however, and met Gudbrand and an immense
assemblage, whose humor towards him was uncompliant to a high degree
indeed. Judge by this preliminary speech of Gudbrand to his
Thing-people, while Olaf was not yet arrived, but only advancing,
hardly got to Breeden on the other side of the hill: "A man has come
to Loar who is called Olaf," said Gudbrand, "and will force upon us
another faith than we had before, and will break in pieces all our
Gods. He says he has a much greater and more powerful God; and it is
wonderful that the earth does not burst asunder under him, or that our
God lets him go about unpunished when he dares to talk such things. I
know this for certain, that if we carry Thor, who has always stood by
us, out of our Temple that is standing upon this farm, Olaf's God will
melt away, and he and his men be made nothing as soon as Thor looks
upon them." Whereupon the Bonders all shouted as one man, "Yea!"
Which tremendous message they even forwarded to Olaf, by Gudbrand's
younger son at the head of 700 armed men; but did not terrify Olaf
with it, who, on the contrary, drew up his troops, rode himself at the
head of them, and began a speech to the Bonders, in which he invited
them to adopt Christianity, as the one true faith for mortals.
Far from consenting to this, the Bonders raised a general shout,
smiting at the same time their shields with their weapons; but Olaf's
men advancing on them swiftly, and flinging spears, they turned and
ran, leaving Gudbrand's son behind, a prisoner, to whom Olaf gave his
life: "Go home now to thy father, and tell him I mean to be with him
soon."
The son goes accordingly, and advises his father not to face Olaf; but
Gudbrand angrily replies: "Ha, coward! I see thou, too, art taken by
the folly that man is going about with;" and is resolved to fight.
That night, however, Gudbrand has a most remarkable Dream, or Vision:
a Man surrounded by light, bringing great terror with him, who warns
Gudbrand against doing battle with Olaf. "If thou dost, thou and all
thy people will fall; wolves will drag away thee and thine; ravens
will tear thee in stripes!" And lo, in telling this to Thord
Potbelly, a sturdy neighbor of his and henchman in the Thing, it is
found that to Thord also has come the self same terrible Apparition!
Better propose truce to Olaf (who seems to have these dreadful Ghostly
Powers on his side), and the holding of a Thing, to discuss matters
between us. Thing assembles, on a day of heavy rain. Being all
seated, uprises King Olaf, and informs them: "The people of Lesso,
Loar, and Vaage, have accepted Christianity, and broken down their
idol-houses: they believe now in the True God, who has made heaven
and earth, and knows all things;" and sits down again without more
words.
"Gudbrand replies, 'We know nothing about him of whom thou speakest.
Dost thou call him God, whom neither thou nor any one else can see?
But we have a God who can be seen every day, although he is not out
to-day because the weather is wet; and he will appear to thee terrible
and very grand; and I expect that fear will mix with thy very blood
when he comes into the Thing. But since thou sayest thy God is so
great, let him make it so that to-morrow we have a cloudy day, but
without rain, and then let us meet again.'
"The king accordingly returned home to his lodging, taking Gudbrand's
son as a hostage; but he gave them a man as hostage in exchange. In
the evening the king asked Gudbrand's son What their God was like? He
replied that he bore the likeness of Thor; had a hammer in his hand;
was of great size, but hollow within; and had a high stand, upon which
he stood when he was out. 'Neither gold nor silver are wanting about
him, and every day he receives four cakes of bread, besides meat.'
They then went to bed; but the king watched all night in prayer. When
day dawned the king went to mass; then to table, and from thence to
the Thing. The weather was such as Gudbrand desired. Now the Bishop
stood up in his choir-robes, with bishop's coif on his head, and
bishop's crosier in his hand. He spoke to the Bonders of the true
faith, told the many wonderful acts of God, and concluded his speech
well.
"Thord Potbelly replies, 'Many things we are told of by this learned
man with the staff in his hand, crooked at the top like a ram's horn.
But since you say, comrades, that your God is so powerful, and can do
so many wonders, tell him to make it clear sunshine to-morrow
forenoon, and then we shall meet here again, and do one of two
things,—either agree with you about this business, or fight you.'
And they separated for the day."
Overnight the king instructed Kolbein the Strong, an immense fellow,
the same who killed Gunhild's two brothers, that he, Kolbein, must
stand next him to-morrow; people must go down to where the ships of
the Bonders lay, and punctually bore holes in every one of them;
item, to the farms where their horses wore, and punctually unhalter
the whole of them, and let them loose: all which was done. Snorro
continues:—
"Now the king was in prayer all night, beseeching God of his goodness
and mercy to release him from evil. When mass was ended, and morning
was gray, the king went to the Thing. When he came thither, some
Bonders had already arrived, and they saw a great crowd coming along,
and bearing among them a huge man's image, glancing with gold and
silver. When the Bonders who were at the Thing saw it, they started
up, and bowed themselves down before the ugly idol. Thereupon it was
set down upon the Thing field; and on the one side of it sat the
Bonders, and on the other the King and his people.
"Then Dale Gudbrand stood up and said, 'Where now, king, is thy God?
I think he will now carry his head lower; and neither thou, nor the
man with the horn, sitting beside thee there, whom thou callest
Bishop, are so bold to-day as on the former days. For now our God,
who rules over all, is come, and looks on you with an angry eye; and
now I see well enough that you are terrified, and scarcely dare raise
your eyes. Throw away now all your opposition, and believe in the God
who has your fate wholly in his hands.'
"The king now whispers to Kolbein the Strong, without the Bonders
perceiving it, 'If it come so in the course of my speech that the
Bonders look another way than towards their idol, strike him as hard
as thou canst with thy club.'
"The king then stood up and spoke. 'Much hast thou talked to us this
morning, and greatly hast thou wondered that thou canst not see our
God; but we expect that he will soon come to us. Thou wouldst
frighten us with thy God, who is both blind and deaf, and cannot even
move about without being carried; but now I expect it will be but a
short time before he meets his fate: for turn your eyes towards the
east,—behold our God advancing in great light.'
"The sun was rising, and all turned to look. At that moment Kolbein
gave their God a stroke, so that he quite burst asunder; and there ran
out of him mice as big almost as cats, and reptiles and adders. The
Bonders were so terrified that some fled to their ships; but when they
sprang out upon them the ships filled with water, and could not get
away. Others ran to their horses, but could not find them. The king
then ordered the Bonders to be called together, saying he wanted to
speak with them; on which the Bonders came back, and the Thing was
again seated.
"The king rose up and said, 'I do not understand what your noise and
running mean. You yourselves see what your God can do,—the idol you
adorned with gold and silver, and brought meat and provisions to. You
see now that the protecting powers, who used and got good of all that,
were the mice and adders, the reptiles and lizards; and surely they do
ill who trust to such, and will not abandon this folly. Take now your
gold and ornaments that are lying strewed on the grass, and give them
to your wives and daughters, but never hang them hereafter upon stocks
and stones. Here are two conditions between us to choose upon:
either accept Christianity, or fight this very day, and the victory be
to them to whom the God we worship gives it.'
"Then Dale Gudbrand stood up and said, 'We have sustained great damage
upon our God; but since he will not help us, we will believe in the
God whom thou believest in.'
"Then all received Christianity. The Bishop baptized Gudbrand and his
son. King Olaf and Bishop Sigurd left behind them teachers; and they
who met as enemies parted as friends. And afterwards Gudbrand built a
church in the valley."(13)
Olaf was by no means an unmerciful man,—much the reverse where he saw
good cause. There was a wicked old King Raerik, for example, one of
those five kinglets whom, with their bits of armaments, Olaf by
stratagem had surrounded one night, and at once bagged and subjected
when morning rose, all of them consenting; all of them except this
Raerik, whom Olaf, as the readiest sure course, took home with him;
blinded, and kept in his own house; finding there was no alternative
but that or death to the obstinate old dog, who was a kind of distant
cousin withal, and could not conscientiously be killed. Stone-blind
old Raerik was not always in murderous humor. Indeed, for most part
he wore a placid, conciliatory aspect, and said shrewd amusing things;
but had thrice over tried, with amazing cunning of contrivance, though
stone-blind, to thrust a dagger into Olaf and the last time had all
but succeeded. So that, as Olaf still refused to have him killed, it
had become a problem what was to be done with him. Olaf's good humor,
as well as his quiet, ready sense and practicality, are manifested
in his final settlement of this Raerik problem. Olaf's laugh, I can
perceive, was not so loud as Tryggveson's but equally hearty, coming
from the bright mind of him!
Besides blind Raerik, Olaf had in his household one Thorarin, an
Icelander; a remarkably ugly man, says Snorro, but a far-travelled,
shrewdly observant, loyal-minded, and good-humored person, whom Olaf
liked to talk with. "Remarkably ugly," says Snorro, "especially in
his hands and feet, which were large and ill-shaped to a degree." One
morning Thorarin, who, with other trusted ones, slept in Olaf's
apartment, was lazily dozing and yawning, and had stretched one of his
feet out of the bed before the king awoke. The foot was still there
when Olaf did open his bright eyes, which instantly lighted on this
foot.
"Well, here is a foot," says Olaf, gayly, "which one seldom sees the
match of; I durst venture there is not another so ugly in this city of
Nidaros."
"Hah, king!" said Thorarin, "there are few things one cannot match if
one seek long and take pains. I would bet, with thy permission, King,
to find an uglier."
"Done!" cried Olaf. Upon which Thorarin stretched out the other
foot.
"A still uglier," cried he; "for it has lost the little toe."
"Ho, ho!" said Olaf; "but it is I who have gained the bet. The less
of an ugly thing the less ugly, not the more!"
Loyal Thorarin respectfully submitted.
"What is to be my penalty, then? The king it is that must decide."
"To take me that wicked old Raerik to Leif Ericson in Greenland."
Which the Icelander did; leaving two vacant seats henceforth at Olaf's
table. Leif Ericson, son of Eric discoverer of America, quietly
managed Raerik henceforth; sent him to Iceland,—I think to father
Eric himself; certainly to some safe hand there, in whose house, or in
some still quieter neighboring lodging, at his own choice, old Raerik
spent the last three years of his life in a perfectly quiescent
manner.
Olaf's struggles in the matter of religion had actually settled that
question in Norway. By these rough methods of his, whatever we may
think of them, Heathenism had got itself smashed dead; and was no more
heard of in that country. Olaf himself was evidently a highly devout
and pious man;—whosoever is born with Olaf's temper now will still
find, as Olaf did, new and infinite field for it! Christianity in
Norway had the like fertility as in other countries; or even rose to a
higher, and what Dahlmann thinks, exuberant pitch, in the course of
the two centuries which followed that of Olaf. Him all testimony
represents to us as a most righteous no less than most religious king.
Continually vigilant, just, and rigorous was Olaf's administration of
the laws; repression of robbery, punishment of injustice, stern
repayment of evil-doers, wherever he could lay hold of them.
Among the Bonder or opulent class, and indeed everywhere, for the poor
too can be sinners and need punishment, Olaf had, by this course of
conduct, naturally made enemies. His severity so visible to all, and
the justice and infinite beneficence of it so invisible except to a
very few. But, at any rate, his reign for the first ten years was
victorious; and might have been so to the end, had it not been
intersected, and interfered with, by King Knut in his far bigger orbit
and current of affairs and interests. Knut's English affairs and
Danish being all settled to his mind, he seems, especially after that
year of pilgrimage to Rome, and association with the Pontiffs and
Kaisers of the world on that occasion, to have turned his more
particular attention upon Norway, and the claims he himself had there.
Jarl Hakon, too, sister's son of Knut, and always well seen by him,
had long been busy in this direction, much forgetful of that oath to
Olaf when his barge got canted over by the cable of two capstans, and
his life was given him, not without conditions altogether!
About the year 1026 there arrived two splendid persons out of England,
bearing King Knut the Great's letter and seal, with a message, likely
enough to be far from welcome to Olaf. For some days Olaf refused to
see them or their letter, shrewdly guessing what the purport would be.
Which indeed was couched in mild language, but of sharp meaning
enough: a notice to King Olaf namely, That Norway was properly, by
just heritage, Knut the Great's; and that Olaf must become the great
Knut's liegeman, and pay tribute to him, or worse would follow. King
Olaf listening to these two splendid persons and their letter, in
indignant silence till they quite ended, made answer: "I have heard
say, by old accounts there are, that King Gorm of Denmark
[Blue-tooth's father, Knut's great-grandfather] was considered but a
small king; having Denmark only and few people to rule over. But the
kings who succeeded him thought that insufficient for them; and it has
since come so far that King Knut rules over both Denmark and England,
and has conquered for himself a part of Scotland. And now he claims
also my paternal bit of heritage; cannot be contented without that
too. Does he wish to rule over all the countries of the North? Can
he eat up all the kale in England itself, this Knut the Great? He
shall do that, and reduce his England to a desert, before I lay my
head in his hands, or show him any other kind of vassalage. And so I
bid you tell him these my words: I will defend Norway with battle-axe
and sword as long as life is given me, and will pay tax to no man for
my kingdom." Words which naturally irritated Knut to a high degree.
Next year accordingly (year 1027), tenth or eleventh year of Olaf's
reign, there came bad rumors out of England: That Knut was equipping
an immense army,—land-army, and such a fleet as had never sailed
before; Knut's own ship in it,—a Gold Dragon with no fewer than sixty
benches of oars. Olaf and Onund King of Sweden, whose sister he had
married, well guessed whither this armament was bound. They were
friends withal, they recognized their common peril in this imminence;
and had, in repeated consultations, taken measures the best that their
united skill (which I find was mainly Olaf's but loyally accepted by
the other) could suggest. It was in this year that Olaf (with his
Swedish king assisting) did his grand feat upon Knut in Lymfjord of
Jutland, which was already spoken of. The special circumstances of
which were these:
Knut's big armament arriving on the Jutish coasts too late in the
season, and the coast country lying all plundered into temporary wreck
by the two Norse kings, who shrank away on sight of Knut, there was
nothing could be done upon them by Knut this year,—or, if anything,
what? Knut's ships ran into Lymfjord, the safe-sheltered frith, or
intricate long straggle of friths and straits, which almost cuts
Jutland in two in that region; and lay safe, idly rocking on the
waters there, uncertain what to do farther. At last he steered in his
big ship and some others, deeper into the interior of Lymfjord, deeper
and deeper onwards to the mouth of a big river called the Helge
(Helge-aa, the Holy River, not discoverable in my poor maps, but
certainly enough still existing and still flowing somewhere among
those intricate straits and friths), towards the bottom of which Helge
river lay, in some safe nook, the small combined Swedish and Norse
fleet, under the charge of Onund, the Swedish king, while at the top
or source, which is a biggish mountain lake, King Olaf had been doing
considerable engineering works, well suited to such an occasion, and
was now ready at a moment's notice. Knut's fleet having idly taken
station here, notice from the Swedish king was instantly sent;
instantly Olaf's well-engineered flood-gates were thrown open; from
the swollen lake a huge deluge of water was let loose; Olaf himself
with all his people hastening down to join his Swedish friend, and get
on board in time; Helge river all the while alongside of him, with
ever-increasing roar, and wider-spreading deluge, hastening down the
steeps in the night-watches. So that, along with Olaf or some way
ahead of him, came immeasurable roaring waste of waters upon Knut's
negligent fleet; shattered, broke, and stranded many of his ships, and
was within a trifle of destroying the Golden Dragon herself, with Knut
on board. Olaf and Onund, we need not say, were promptly there in
person, doing their very best; the railings of the Golden Dragon,
however, were too high for their little ships; and Jarl Ulf, husband
of Knut's sister, at the top of his speed, courageously intervening,
spoiled their stratagem, and saved Knut from this very dangerous pass.
Knut did nothing more this winter. The two Norse kings, quite unequal
to attack such an armament, except by ambush and engineering, sailed
away; again plundering at discretion on the Danish coast; carrying
into Sweden great booties and many prisoners; but obliged to lie fixed
all winter; and indeed to leave their fleets there for a series of
winters,—Knut's fleet, posted at Elsinore on both sides of the Sound,
rendering all egress from the Baltic impossible, except at his
pleasure. Ulf's opportune deliverance of his royal brother-in-law did
not much bestead poor Ulf himself. He had been in disfavor before,
pardoned with difficulty, by Queen Emma's intercession; an ambitious,
officious, pushing, stirring, and, both in England and Denmark, almost
dangerous man; and this conspicuous accidental merit only awoke new
jealousy in Knut. Knut, finding nothing pass the Sound worth much
blockading, went ashore; "and the day before Michaelmas," says Snorro,
"rode with a great retinue to Roeskilde." Snorro continues his tragic
narrative of what befell there:
"There Knut's brother-in-law, Jarl Ulf, had prepared a great feast for
him. The Jarl was the most agreeable of hosts; but the King was
silent and sullen. The Jarl talked to him in every way to make him
cheerful, and brought forward everything he could think of to amuse
him; but the King remained stern, and speaking little. At last the
Jarl proposed a game of chess, which he agreed to. A chess-board was
produced, and they played together. Jarl Ulf was hasty in temper,
stiff, and in nothing yielding; but everything he managed went on well
in his hands: and he was a great warrior, about whom there are many
stories. He was the most powerful man in Denmark next to the King.
Jarl Ulf's sister, Gyda, was married to Jarl Gudin (Godwin) Ulfnadson;
and their sons were, Harald King of England, and Jarl Tosti, Jarl
Walthiof, Jarl Mauro-Kaare, and Jarl Svein. Gyda was the name of
their daughter, who was married to the English King Edward, the Good
(whom we call the Confessor).
"When they had played a while, the King made a false move; on which
the Jarl took a knight from him; but the King set the piece on the
board again, and told the Jarl to make another move. But the Jarl
flew angry, tumbled the chess-board over, rose, and went away. The
King said, 'Run thy ways, Ulf the Fearful.' The Jarl turned round at
the door and said, 'Thou wouldst have run farther at Helge river hadst
thou been left to battle there. Thou didst not call me Ulf the
Fearful when I hastened to thy help while the Swedes were beating thee
like a dog.' The Jarl then went out, and went to bed.
"The following morning, while the King was putting on his clothes, he
said to his footboy, 'Go thou to Jarl Ulf and kill him.' The lad
went, was away a while, and then came back. The King said, 'Hast thou
killed the Jarl?' 'I did not kill him, for he was gone to St.
Lucius's church.' There was a man called Ivar the White, a Norwegian
by birth, who was the King's courtman and chamberlain. The King said
to him, 'Go thou and kill the Jarl.' Ivar went to the church, and in
at the choir, and thrust his sword through the Jarl, who died on the
spot. Then Ivar went to the King, with the bloody sword in his hand.
"The King said, 'Hast thou killed the Jarl?' 'I have killed him,'
said he. 'Thou hast done well,' answered the King." I
From a man who built so many churches (one on each battlefield where
he had fought, to say nothing of the others), and who had in him such
depths of real devotion and other fine cosmic quality, this does seem
rather strong! But it is characteristic, withal,—of the man, and
perhaps of the times still more.(14) In any case, it is an event worth
noting, the slain Jarl Ulf and his connections being of importance in
the history of Denmark and of England also. Ulf's wife was Astrid,
sister of Knut, and their only child was Svein, styled afterwards
"Svein Estrithson" ("Astrid-son") when he became noted in the
world,—at this time a beardless youth, who, on the back of this
tragedy, fled hastily to Sweden, where were friends of Ulf. After
some ten years' eclipse there, Knut and both his sons being now dead,
Svein reappeared in Denmark under a new and eminent figure, "Jarl of
Denmark," highest Liegeman to the then sovereign there. Broke his
oath to said sovereign, declared himself, Svein Estrithson, to be real
King of Denmark; and, after much preliminary trouble, and many
beatings and disastrous flights to and fro, became in effect such,—to
the wonder of mankind; for he had not had one victory to cheer him on,
or any good luck or merit that one sees, except that of surviving
longer than some others. Nevertheless he came to be the Restorer, so
called, of Danish independence; sole remaining representative of Knut
(or Knut's sister), of Fork-beard, Blue-tooth, and Old Gorm; and
ancestor of all the subsequent kings of Denmark for some 400 years;
himself coming, as we see, only by the Distaff side, all of the Sword
or male side having died so soon. Early death, it has been observed,
was the Great Knut's allotment, and all his posterity's as
well;—fatal limit (had there been no others, which we see there were)
to his becoming "Charlemagne of the North" in any considerable degree!
Jarl Ulf, as we have seen, had a sister, Gyda by name, wife to Earl
Godwin ("Gudin Ulfnadsson," as Snorro calls him) a very memorable
Englishman, whose son and hers, King Harald, Harold in English
books, is the memorablest of all. These things ought to be better
known to English antiquaries, and will perhaps be alluded to again.
This pretty little victory or affront, gained over Knut in Lymfjord,
was among the last successes of Olaf against that mighty man. Olaf,
the skilful captain he was, need not have despaired to defend his
Norway against Knut and all the world. But he learned henceforth,
month by month ever more tragically, that his own people, seeing
softer prospects under Knut, and in particular the chiefs of them,
industriously bribed by Knut for years past, had fallen away from him;
and that his means of defence were gone. Next summer, Knut's grand
fleet sailed, unopposed, along the coast of Norway; Knut summoning a
Thing every here and there, and in all of them meeting nothing but
sky-high acclamation and acceptance. Olaf, with some twelve little
ships, all he now had, lay quiet in some safe fjord, near Lindenaes,
what we now call the Naze, behind some little solitary isles on the
southeast of Norway there; till triumphant Knut had streamed home
again. Home to England again "Sovereign of Norway" now, with nephew
Hakon appointed Jarl and Vice-regent under him! This was the news
Olaf met on venturing out; and that his worst anticipations were not
beyond the sad truth all, or almost all, the chief Bonders and men of
weight in Norway had declared against him, and stood with triumphant
Knut.
Olaf, with his twelve poor ships, steered vigorously along the coast
to collect money and force,—if such could now anywhere be had. He
himself was resolute to hold out, and try. "Sailing swiftly with a
fair wind, morning cloudy with some showers," he passed the coast of
Jedderen, which was Erling Skjalgson's country, when he got sure
notice of an endless multitude of ships, war-ships, armed merchant
ships, all kinds of shipping-craft, down to fishermen's boats, just
getting under way against him, under the command of Erling
Skjalgson,— the powerfulest of his subjects, once much a friend of
Olaf's but now gone against him to this length, thanks to Olaf's
severity of justice, and Knut's abundance in gold and promises for
years back. To that complexion had it come with Erling; sailing with
this immense assemblage of the naval people and populace of Norway to
seize King Olaf, and bring him to the great Knut dead or alive.
Erling had a grand new ship of his own, which far outsailed the
general miscellany of rebel ships, and was visibly fast gaining
distance on Olaf himself,—who well understood what Erling's puzzle
was, between the tail of his game (the miscellany of rebel ships,
namely) that could not come up, and the head or general prize of the
game which was crowding all sail to get away; and Olaf took advantage
of the same. "Lower your sails!" said Olaf to his men (though we must
go slower).
"Ho you, we have lost sight of them!" said Erling to his, and put on
all his speed; Olaf going, soon after this, altogether
invisible,—behind a little island that he knew of, whence into a
certain fjord or bay (Bay of Fungen on the maps), which he thought
would suit him. "Halt here, and get out your arms," said Olaf, and
had not to wait long till Erling came bounding in, past the rocky
promontory, and with astonishment beheld Olaf's fleet of twelve with
their battle-axes and their grappling-irons all in perfect readiness.
These fell on him, the unready Erling, simultaneous, like a cluster of
angry bees; and in a few minutes cleared his ship of men altogether,
except Erling himself. Nobody asked his life, nor probably would have
got it if he had. Only Erling still stood erect on a high place on
the poop, fiercely defensive, and very difficult to get at. "Could
not be reached at all," says Snorro, "except by spears or arrows, and
these he warded off with untiring dexterity; no man in Norway, it was
said, had ever defended himself so long alone against many,"—an
almost invincible Erling, had his cause been good. Olaf himself
noticed Erling's behavior, and said to him, from the foredeck below,
"Thou hast turned against me to-day, Erling." "The eagles fight
breast to breast," answers he. This was a speech of the king's to
Erling once long ago, while they stood fighting, not as now, but side
by side. The king, with some transient thought of possibility going
through his head, rejoins, "Wilt thou surrender, Erling?" "That will
I," answered he; took the helmet off his head; laid down sword and
shield; and went forward to the forecastle deck. The king pricked, I
think not very harshly, into Erling's chin or beard with the point of
his battle-axe, saying, "I must mark thee as traitor to thy Sovereign,
though." Whereupon one of the bystanders, Aslak Fitiaskalle, stupidly
and fiercely burst up; smote Erling on the head with his axe; so that
it struck fast in his brain and was instantly the death of Erling.
"Ill-luck attend thee for that stroke; thou hast struck Norway out of
my hand by it!" cried the king to Aslak; but forgave the poor fellow,
who had done it meaning well. The insurrectionary Bonder fleet
arriving soon after, as if for certain victory, was struck with
astonishment at this Erling catastrophe; and being now without any
leader of authority, made not the least attempt at battle; but, full
of discouragement and consternation, thankfully allowed Olaf to sail
away on his northward voyage, at discretion; and themselves went off
lamenting, with Erling's dead body.
This small victory was the last that Olaf had over his many enemies at
present. He sailed along, still northward, day after day; several
important people joined him; but the news from landward grew daily
more ominous: Bonders busily arming to rear of him; and ahead, Hakon
still more busily at Trondhjem, now near by, "—and he will end thy
days, King, if he have strength enough!" Olaf paused; sent scouts to
a hill-top: "Hakon's armament visible enough, and under way
hitherward, about the Isle of Bjarno, yonder!" Soon after, Olaf
himself saw the Bonder armament of twenty-five ships, from the
southward, sail past in the distance to join that of Hakon; and, worse
still, his own ships, one and another (seven in all), were slipping
off on a like errand! He made for the Fjord of Fodrar, mouth of the
rugged strath called Valdal,—which I think still knows Olaf and has
now an "Olaf's Highway," where, nine centuries ago, it scarcely had a
path. Olaf entered this fjord, had his land-tent set up, and a cross
beside it, on the small level green behind the promontory there.
Finding that his twelve poor ships were now reduced to five, against a
world all risen upon him, he could not but see and admit to himself
that there was no chance left; and that he must withdraw across the
mountains and wait for a better time.
His journey through that wild country, in these forlorn and straitened
circumstances, has a mournful dignity and homely pathos, as described
by Snorro: how he drew up his five poor ships upon the beach, packed
all their furniture away, and with his hundred or so of attendants and
their journey-baggage, under guidance of some friendly Bonder, rode up
into the desert and foot of the mountains; scaled, after three days'
effort (as if by miracle, thought his attendants and thought Snorro),
the well-nigh precipitous slope that led across, never without
miraculous aid from Heaven and Olaf could baggage-wagons have ascended
that path! In short, How he fared along, beset by difficulties and
the mournfulest thoughts; but patiently persisted, steadfastly trusted
in God; and was fixed to return, and by God's help try again. An
evidently very pious and devout man; a good man struggling with
adversity, such as the gods, we may still imagine with the ancients,
do look down upon as their noblest sight.
He got to Sweden, to the court of his brother-in-law; kindly and nobly
enough received there, though gradually, perhaps, ill-seen by the now
authorities of Norway. So that, before long, he quitted Sweden; left
his queen there with her only daughter, his and hers, the only child
they had; he himself had an only son, "by a bondwoman," Magnus by
name, who came to great things afterwards; of whom, and of which, by
and by. With this bright little boy, and a selected escort of
attendants, he moved away to Russia, to King Jarroslav; where he might
wait secure against all risk of hurting kind friends by his presence.
He seems to have been an exile altogether some two years,—such is
one's vague notion; for there is no chronology in Snorro or his Sagas,
and one is reduced to guessing and inferring. He had reigned over
Norway, reckoning from the first days of his landing there to those
last of his leaving it across the Dovrefjeld, about fifteen years, ten
of them shiningly victorious.
The news from Norway were naturally agitating to King Olaf and, in the
fluctuation of events there, his purposes and prospects varied much.
He sometimes thought of pilgriming to Jerusalem, and a henceforth
exclusively religious life; but for most part his pious thoughts
themselves gravitated towards Norway, and a stroke for his old place
and task there, which he steadily considered to have been committed to
him by God. Norway, by the rumors, was evidently not at rest. Jarl
Hakon, under the high patronage of his uncle, had lasted there but a
little while. I know not that his government was especially
unpopular, nor whether he himself much remembered his broken oath. It
appears, however, he had left in England a beautiful bride; and
considering farther that in England only could bridal ornaments and
other wedding outfit of a sufficiently royal kind be found, he set
sail thither, to fetch her and them himself. One evening of
wildish-looking weather he was seen about the northeast corner of the
Pentland Frith; the night rose to be tempestuous; Hakon or any timber
of his fleet was never seen more. Had all gone down,—broken oaths,
bridal hopes, and all else; mouse and man,—into the roaring waters.
There was no farther Opposition-line; the like of which had lasted
ever since old heathen Hakon Jarl, down to this his grandson Hakon's
finis in the Pentland Frith. With this Hakon's disappearance it now
disappeared.
Indeed Knut himself, though of an empire suddenly so great, was but a
temporary phenomenon. Fate had decided that the grand and wise Knut
was to be short-lived; and to leave nothing as successors but an
ineffectual young Harald Harefoot, who soon perished, and a still
stupider fiercely-drinking Harda-Knut, who rushed down of apoplexy
(here in London City, as I guess), with the goblet at his mouth,
drinking health and happiness at a wedding-feast, also before long.
Hakon having vanished in this dark way, there ensued a pause, both on
Knut's part and on Norway's. Pause or interregnum of some months,
till it became certain, first, whether Hakon were actually dead,
secondly, till Norway, and especially till King Knut himself, could
decide what to do. Knut, to the deep disappointment, which had to
keep itself silent, of three or four chief Norway men, named none of
these three or four Jarl of Norway; but bethought him of a certain
Svein, a bastard son of his own,—who, and almost still more his
English mother, much desired a career in the world fitter for him,
thought they indignantly, than that of captain over Jomsburg, where
alone the father had been able to provide for him hitherto. Svein was
sent to Norway as king or vice-king for Father Knut; and along with
him his fond and vehement mother. Neither of whom gained any favor
from the Norse people by the kind of management they ultimately came
to show.
Olaf on news of this change, and such uncertainty prevailing
everywhere in Norway as to the future course of things, whether Svein
would come, as was rumored of at last, and be able to maintain himself
if he did,—thought there might be something in it of a chance for
himself and his rights. And, after lengthened hesitation, much
prayer, pious invocation, and consideration, decided to go and try it.
The final grain that had turned the balance, it appears, was a
half-waking morning dream, or almost ocular vision he had of his
glorious cousin Olaf Tryggveson, who severely admonished, exhorted,
and encouraged him; and disappeared grandly, just in the instant of
Olaf's awakening; so that Olaf almost fancied he had seen the very
figure of him, as it melted into air. "Let us on, let us on!" thought
Olaf always after that. He left his son, not in Russia, but in Sweden
with the Queen, who proved very good and carefully helpful in wise
ways to him:—in Russia Olaf had now nothing more to do but give his
grateful adieus, and get ready.
His march towards Sweden, and from that towards Norway and the passes
of the mountains, down Vaerdal, towards Stickelstad, and the crisis
that awaited, is beautifully depicted by Snorro. It has, all of it,
the description (and we see clearly, the fact itself had), a kind of
pathetic grandeur, simplicity, and rude nobleness; something Epic or
Homeric, without the metre or the singing of Homer, but with all the
sincerity, rugged truth to nature, and much more of piety, devoutness,
reverence for what is forever High in this Universe, than meets us in
those old Greek Ballad-mongers. Singularly visual all of it, too,
brought home in every particular to one's imagination, so that it
stands out almost as a thing one actually saw.
Olaf had about three thousand men with him; gathered mostly as he
fared along through Norway. Four hundred, raised by one Dag, a
kinsman whom he had found in Sweden and persuaded to come with him,
marched usually in a separate body; and were, or might have been,
rather an important element. Learning that the Bonders were all
arming, especially in Trondhjem country, Olaf streamed down towards
them in the closest order he could. By no means very close,
subsistence even for three thousand being difficult in such a country.
His speech was almost always free and cheerful, though his thoughts
always naturally were of a high and earnest, almost sacred tone;
devout above all. Stickelstad, a small poor hamlet still standing
where the valley ends, was seen by Olaf, and tacitly by the Bonders as
well, to be the natural place for offering battle. There Olaf issued
out from the hills one morning: drew himself up according to the best
rules of Norse tactics, rules of little complexity, but perspicuously
true to the facts. I think he had a clear open ground still rather
raised above the plain in front; he could see how the Bonder army had
not yet quite arrived, but was pouring forward, in spontaneous rows or
groups, copiously by every path. This was thought to be the biggest
army that ever met in Norway; "certainly not much fewer than a hundred
times a hundred men," according to Snorro; great Bonders several of
them, small Bonders very many,—all of willing mind, animated with a
hot sense of intolerable injuries. "King Olaf had punished great and
small with equal rigor," says Snorro; "which appeared to the chief
people of the country too severe; and animosity rose to the highest
when they lost relatives by the King's just sentence, although they
were in reality guilty. He again would rather renounce his dignity
than omit righteous judgment. The accusation against him, of being
stingy with his money, was not just, for he was a most generous man
towards his friends. But that alone was the cause of the discontent
raised against him, that he appeared hard and severe in his
retributions. Besides, King Knut offered large sums of money, and the
great chiefs were corrupted by this, and by his offering them greater
dignities than they had possessed before." On these grounds, against
the intolerable man, great and small were now pouring along by every
path.
Olaf perceived it would still be some time before the Bonder army was
in rank. His own Dag of Sweden, too, was not yet come up; he was to
have the right banner; King Olaf's own being the middle or grand one;
some other person the third or left banner. All which being perfectly
ranked and settled, according to the best rules, and waiting only the
arrival of Dag, Olaf bade his men sit down, and freshen themselves
with a little rest. There were religious services gone through: a
matins-worship such as there have been few; sternly earnest to the
heart of it, and deep as death and eternity, at least on Olaf's own
part. For the rest Thormod sang a stave of the fiercest Skaldic
poetry that was in him; all the army straightway sang it in chorus
with fiery mind. The Bonder of the nearest farm came up, to tell Olaf
that he also wished to fight for him "Thanks to thee; but don't," said
Olaf; "stay at home rather, that the wounded may have some shelter."
To this Bonder, Olaf delivered all the money he had, with solemn order
to lay out the whole of it in masses and prayers for the souls of such
of his enemies as fell. "Such of thy enemies, King?" "Yes, surely,"
said Olaf, "my friends will all either conquer, or go whither I also
am going."
At last the Bonder army too was got ranked; three commanders, one of
them with a kind of loose chief command, having settled to take charge
of it; and began to shake itself towards actual advance. Olaf, in the
mean while, had laid his head on the knees of Finn Arneson, his
trustiest man, and fallen fast asleep. Finn's brother, Kalf Arneson,
once a warm friend of Olaf, was chief of the three commanders on the
opposite side. Finn and he addressed angry speech to one another from
the opposite ranks, when they came near enough. Finn, seeing the
enemy fairly approach, stirred Olaf from his sleep. "Oh, why hast
thou wakened me from such a dream?" said Olaf, in a deeply solemn
tone. "What dream was it, then?" asked Finn. "Idreamt that there
rose a ladder here reaching up to very Heaven," said Olaf; "I had
climbed and climbed, and got to the very last step, and should have
entered there hadst thou given me another moment." "King, I doubt
thou art fey; I do not quite like that dream."
The actual fight began about one of the clock in a most bright last
day of July, and was very fierce and hot, especially on the part of
Olaf's men, who shook the others back a little, though fierce enough
they too; and had Dag been on the ground, which he wasn't yet, it was
thought victory might have been won. Soon after battle joined, the
sky grew of a ghastly brass or copper color, darker and darker, till
thick night involved all things; and did not clear away again till
battle was near ending. Dag, with his four hundred, arrived in the
darkness, and made a furious charge, what was afterwards, in the
speech of the people, called "Dag's storm." Which had nearly
prevailed, but could not quite; victory again inclining to the so
vastly larger party. It is uncertain still how the matter would have
gone; for Olaf himself was now fighting with his own hand, and doing
deadly execution on his busiest enemies to right and to left. But one
of these chief rebels, Thorer Hund (thought to have learnt magic from
the Laplanders, whom he long traded with, and made money by),
mysteriously would not fall for Olaf's best strokes. Best strokes
brought only dust from the (enchanted) deer-skin coat of the fellow,
to Olaf's surprise,—when another of the rebel chiefs rushed forward,
struck Olaf with his battle-axe, a wild slashing wound, and miserably
broke his thigh, so that he staggered or was supported back to the
nearest stone; and there sat down, lamentably calling on God to help
him in this bad hour. Another rebel of note (the name of him long
memorable in Norway) slashed or stabbed Olaf a second time, as did
then a third. Upon which the noble Olaf sank dead; and forever
quitted this doghole of a world,—little worthy of such men as Olaf
one sometimes thinks. But that too is a mistake, and even an
important one, should we persist in it.
With Olaf's death the sky cleared again. Battle, now near done, ended
with complete victory to the rebels, and next to no pursuit or result,
except the death of Olaf everybody hastening home, as soon as the big
Duel had decided itself. Olaf's body was secretly carried, after
dark, to some out-house on the farm near the spot; whither a poor
blind beggar, creeping in for shelter that very evening, was
miraculously restored to sight. And, truly with a notable, almost
miraculous, speed, the feelings of all Norway for King Olaf changed
themselves, and were turned upside down, "within a year," or almost
within a day. Superlative example of Extinctus amabitur idem. Not
"Olaf the Thick-set" any longer, but "Olaf the Blessed" or Saint, now
clearly in Heaven; such the name and character of him from that time
to this. Two churches dedicated to him (out of four that once stood)
stand in London at this moment. And the miracles that have been done
there, not to speak of Norway and Christendom elsewhere, in his name,
were numerous and great for long centuries afterwards. Visibly a
Saint Olaf ever since; and, indeed, in Bollandus or elsewhere, I
have seldom met with better stuff to make a Saint of, or a true
World-Hero in all good senses.
Speaking of the London Olaf Churches, I should have added that from
one of these the thrice-famous Tooley Street gets its name,—where
those Three Tailors, addressing Parliament and the Universe, sublimely
styled themselves, "We, the People of England." Saint Olave Street,
Saint Oley Street, Stooley Street, Tooley Street; such are the
metamorphoses of human fame in the world!
The battle-day of Stickelstad, King Olaf's death-day, is generally
believed to have been Wednesday, July 31, 1033. But on investigation,
it turns out that there was no total eclipse of the sun visible in
Norway that year; though three years before, there was one; but on the
29th instead of the 31st. So that the exact date still remains
uncertain; Dahlmann, the latest critic, inclining for 1030, and its
indisputable eclipse.(15)
__________
(13)
(14) Snorro, ii. pp. 252, 253.
(15) Saxon Chronicle says expressly, under A.D. 1030: "In this
year King Olaf was slain in Norway by his own people, and was
afterwards sainted."
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