Produced by Martin Robb
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 herois not an imaginary one; he was a real flesh and blood man who reignedas King of Norway just nine centuries ago. The main facts of hisadventurous career--his boyhood of slavery in Esthonia, his life at thecourt of King Valdemar, his wanderings as a viking, the many battles hefought, his conversion to Christianity in England, and his ultimatereturn to his native land--are set forth in the various Icelandic sagasdealing with the period in which he lived. I have made free use ofthese old time records, and have added only such probable incidents aswere necessary to give a continuous thread of interest to thenarrative. These sagas, like the epics of Homer, were handed down fromgeneration to generation by word of mouth, and they were not committedto writing until a long time after Olaf Triggvison's death, so that itis not easy to discriminate between the actual facts as they occurredand the mere exaggerated traditions which must surely have been addedto the story of his life as it was told by the old saga men at theirwinter firesides. But in most instances the records corroborate eachother very exactly, and it may be taken that the leading incidents ofthe story are historically true.
The Icelandic sagas have very little to say concerning OlafTriggvison's unsuccessful invasion of England, and for this part of thestory 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 KingEthelred the Second and Olaf still exists to fix the date of theinvasion, while the famous battle of Maldon, in which the Norseadventurer gained a victory over the East Anglians, is described atlength by a nameless contemporary poet, whose "Death of Brihtnoth"remains as one of the finest of early English narrative poems, full ofnoble patriotism and primitive simplicity.
I have given no dates throughout these pages, but for the convenienceof readers who may wish for greater exactness it may be as well tostate here that Olaf was born A.D. 963, that he started on hiswanderings as a viking in the year 981, that the sea fight between thevikings of Jomsburg and the Norwegians took place in 986, and thebattle of Maldon in the year 991. Olaf reigned only five years as Kingof Norway, being crowned in 995, and ending his reign with his death inthe 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 Eriksonjourneyed north into Esthonia to gather the king's taxes and tribute.His business in due course brought him into a certain seaport thatstood upon the shores of the great Gulf of Finland.
He was a very handsome man, tall and strong, with long fair hair andclear blue eyes. There were many armed servants in his following, forhe was a person of great consequence, and was held in high honourthroughout the land.
He rode across the marketplace and there alighted from his horse, andturned his eyes towards the sea. Before him stretched the rippling,sunlit bay with its wooded holms. A fleet of fishing boats was puttingout with the flood tide, and some merchant vessels lay at anchor undershelter of the green headland.
Nearer to the strand a long dragonship, with a tall gilded prow risinghigh above the deck tent, was moored against a bank of hewn rock thatserved as a wharf. At sight of the array of white shields along thisvessel's bulwarks his eyes brightened, for he knew that she was aviking 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 boldwarriors of the fiords.
Close by the ship there was a noisy crowd of men and boys. He strodenearer to them, and heard the hoarse voices of the vikings calling outin loud praise of a feat that had been performed by someone in theirmidst. Sigurd joined the crowd, and saw a boy step out upon thevessel's narrow gangplank, and there, standing between the ship and theshore, begin to throw a knife high up into the sunny air, catching itas it fell.
It seemed that the lad was of good station, for his clothing was offinely woven cloth, and there was a gold neckband to his kirtle, andhis long black hair was well combed and curled. Thrice he threw up hisglittering knife high above his head and deftly caught it again. Butsoon, thinking perhaps to excel those who had gone before him, he tooka second knife from his belt, and juggled with them both with suchskill that the shipmen watching him from under the awning swore by thehammer of Thor that the feat could never be surpassed.
"Well done, well done!" they shouted. And the boys on the bank criedout, "Well done, Rekoni!"
At this the youth put fuller strength into his arms and flung theknives yet higher into the air. But his ambition for the praise of thewarriors was greater than his caution, for, in reaching forward tocatch one of the weapons, he lost his balance and fell headlong intothe deep green water beneath. And as he swam to shore the vikingslaughed aloud, and some who had thought of giving him a reward put backtheir gold into their wallets and turned away.
Now, very close to where Sigurd Erikson was there stood two boys, whoseclose cropped hair and dress of coarse white vadmal showed them to beslaves. One of them was a tall, gaunt youth, with pale thin cheeks andlarge sad eyes. He was fair of skin, and by this Sigurd knew that hewas not an Esthonian. His companion seemed about twelve winters old,sturdy and broad backed, with very fair hair. His neck and bare strongarms were burnt by the sun to a ruddy brown. Sigurd could not see hisface, and might not have noticed him had not the elder lad urged himforward, 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 Ialready done in bidding Rekoni try the feat. Well is it for me that heis not hurt by his fall into the sea, else would his father's whip beabout my back. Even as the matter stands, my master will surely stop myfood for having left his sheep to stray upon the hills."
"I had but wished to see you succeed where your master's son hasfailed," sighed the elder lad. And at this the boy turned round andsaid more softly:
"Well, Thorgils, for your pleasure will I do it, and not for thevikings' 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 ofhis bare feet in the dust and then stepped to the middle of the narrowboard.
"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 atall, red bearded man, whose nose was flat against his scarred, bronzedface. 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 thewarriors. But those who were nearer made no answer, for they saw thatthe boy was very agile and strong beyond his years.
Sigurd watched him as he took his stand on the plank. The sunlightshone upon his fair young face. His clear blue eyes flashed like starsunder 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 kniveshigh up into the air. As it turned in its descent he flung a secondknife, then caught the first and again threw it high--higher even thanthe vane on the ship's tall mast. He stood with his bare feet firmlygripping the plank, and his head thrown back, and his lithe, wellbalanced body swaying in regular movement with his arms. Then as thetwo gleaming weapons were well in play, rising and falling in quicksuccession, one of his hands went to his belt, and he drew yet a thirdknife and plied it in turn with the other two.
At this there was a murmur o
f praise from both ship and shore, and thevikings declared that never before had they seen one so young displaysuch skill. And all the while Sigurd Erikson kept his eyes upon thelad's glowing, upturned face.
"Who is this child?" he asked of the tall youth at his side. But thesad eyed Thorgils paid no heed to the question, but only crept nearerto the end of the gangboard, and stood there earnestly watching. As helooked at the ship's bulwarks he caught sight of the man with the redbeard and broken nose--the chief of the vikings,--and he cried out tohis companion:
"Enough, Ole, enough!"
Then the boy caught his knives and thrust them one by one into hisbelt, and, turning shoreward, strode quickly down the plank and madehis way through the cheering crowd, followed by Thorgils. Many of thevikings called him back with offers of reward, and Sigurd Erikson triedto arrest him as he passed. But the young slave only gave a carelesslaugh and ran swiftly away.
Now it seemed that Sigurd had a mind to go after him. But as he wasleaving the crowd he met a certain rich merchant of the town, and hesaid:
"Tell me, Biorn, who is this yellow haired lad that has just provedhimself 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. Asto his feat with the knives, had I my will I'd have it instant death toany 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 camewith the west wind. It was I who bought him from the vikings, withanother of his kind--one Thorgils, who is to this day my bond slave. Ibought them in exchange for a good he goat from Klerkon Flatface. Verysoon I found the younger lad was worthless. There was little that Icould do with him; so I sold him to a dalesman named Reas, who gave mea very fine rain cloak for him; nor do I rue my bargain, for the cloakis still in use and the lad is scarcely of the value of his food andshelter."
"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 tohis name, if ever he had one, 'tis certain he has none now, and is onlyknown as Reasthrall, for he is the thrall of Reas the bonder."
"If it be that Reas will sell his thrall," said Sigurd, "then I wouldwillingly buy the lad, and take him back with me into Holmgard as anoffering to the Queen Allogia."
"Think twice ere you act so unkindly towards the queen," said themerchant. "A goodlier gift for Allogia would surely be the jewelledbrooch 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 sidethe tall red bearded viking chief, whose broken nose and coarse scarredface were now shielded from the sun's rays by a wide hat made of dryreeds.
"Well met, Hersir Sigurd!" said the warrior. "And what lordly businessbrings you north to the coast? 'Tis long since last we met--not sincethe yuletide feast at Holmgard, two winters back, when we had the horsefight. How fares the Flanders mare that won such glory at that time?"
"A sickness killed her," answered Sigurd. "But I have a foal intraining 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 willwith the best horses you can find. I wager you that mine will beat themall."
"If I meet not my death before the end of the cruising season," saidthe viking, "then will I engage to bring you the best horse in all theNorseland to fight against." He looked among the crowd of boys thatstill loitered near the ship, and added--"Where has the youngster gonewho stood just now upon the plank? He has in him the makings of a goodwar man. Such lads as he are scarce, and I would buy him if he be forsale."
And then the merchant spoke.
"Why," said he, addressing the viking, "'tis but six summers since thatyou sold that self same boy, here on this marketplace. 'Twas I whobought him from you, Klerkon. Have you forgotten the white haired hegoat that you got from me?"
"Life is too full for me to keep mind of such small events," answeredKlerkon. "But since the lad is yours, what price do you now put uponhim?"
"Nay, he is no chattel of mine," said the merchant. "He is the thrallof goodman Reas, over in Rathsdale--a morning's walk from here. If youwould 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 nexttime 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 befought 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. InThrandheim the folk are dying for lack of corn and fish, and inHalogaland the snow has lain over the valleys nigh until midsummer, sothat all the livestock have been bound in stall and fed upon birchbuds. Men lay the famine to the account of Gunnhild's sons, who areover greedy of money and deal hardly with the husbandmen. There islittle peace in the land, for the kings are for ever quarrelling overtheir jointures; but it seems that Harald Greyfell is having the upperhand over his brothers. Little joy is there in ruling over a realmthese days. I had rather be as I am, an honest sea rover."
"Doubtless the viking life is, after all, the most joyful that a mancan live," said Sigurd. "How fare our friends at Jomsburg?"
"Right well, as always," answered Klerkon. "Sigvaldi has built himselfa fine new dragonship of five and twenty seats, and the Jomsvikings nownumber in all seven times ten hundred men. They speak of making a sallyacross 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 oftreasure in their churches, with many a golden bowl and well wroughtdrinking horn as booty for those who are bold enough to make theadventure."
"But these Angles are good fighting men, I hear," said Sigurd. "Andthey 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 faresKing 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 hornof mead," said the viking. And he drew Sigurd with him across thegangplank, and they went below and sat drinking until one of theshipmen standing on the vessel's lypting, or poop deck, sounded ashrill 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 eveningtime.
It chanced then that he was again beside the sea.
Down there on the shore he stood alone, idly watching the white wingedseabirds--some floating in their own reflections on the calm pools ofwater left by the outgoing tide, others seeking food amid the green andcrimson weeds that lay in bright patches on the rocks--and often heturned his eyes in the direction of the setting sun, where, in the midsea, Jarl Klerkon's dragonship moved slowly outward, with her wet oarsglistening in the rosy light.
Suddenly from behind him there came a merry childish laugh, and heturned quickly round, and saw very near to him the white clothed slaveboy of t
he gangplank. The lad was standing at the brink of a deep poolof seawater, and had, as it seemed, started a fleet of empty musselshells to float upon the calm surface. He was dropping pebbles from hisfull 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 timeupon the tall strange man. Then he answered:
"Because, hersir, they are my warships, setting out upon a vikingcruise."
At this Sigurd smiled.
"It may be, my boy," said he, "that you will yourself command greatships of war in time to come."
"That is what I should wish," said the boy, "for then I might takeblood 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 largecrested helmet of bronze and gold. He glanced, too, at the man's greatsword and his cloak of rich blue cloth, and guessed rightly that he wasof noble rank. There was a smile upon his lips, and his eyes weretender 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 thewater, and wiped his wet hands on his coarse kirtle. Then steppingnearer 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 yetmore 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 meto be a king's son if I am also a slave, made to work hard for my dailyportion 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, butwith 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 TriggviOlafson? 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 ofwhat 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 ofrock, and sat him down before him, bidding him tell how it came aboutthat 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 myfather's voice. But my mother bade me ever remember that I was a king'sson, and to make myself worthy. Astrid was the name of my mother. Shewas the daughter of Erik Biodaskalli, who dwelt at Ofrestead, in theUplands, a mighty man. Now, after the slaying of Triggvi, Queen Astridwas forced to fly from the realm of Viken, lest she too should fallinto the hands of Gunnhild and her wicked sons and be slain. And shetravelled as a fugitive through many lands. In her company was herfoster father, Thoralf Loosebeard by name. He never departed from her,but always helped her and defended her wheresoever she went. There weremany other trusty men in her train, so no harm came to her. And at lastshe took refuge on a certain islet in the middle of Rand's fiord, andlay hidden there for many days. On that islet I was born, and I am toldthat they sprinkled me with water and named me Olaf, after my father'sfather. There, through the summer tide she stayed in safety. But whenthe days grew short and the nights weary and long, and when the wintryweather came upon us, then she left her hiding place and set forth withher folk into the Uplands, travelling under the shelter of night. Andafter many hardships and dangers she came to Ofrestead, her father'sdwelling, and there we abode through the winter.
"Little do I remember of these matters, which befell while yet I was ababe in arms. This that I tell you was taught to me by Thorgils, myfoster brother, who is the thrall of Biorn the merchant; and he cantell you more than I know, for he is older than I, and the son of ourfaithful Thoralf. Thorgils has said that when Gunnhild got tidings thatI had come into the world she sent forth many armed messengers, andbade them fare into the Uplands in search of this son of King Triggvi,that they might prevent my growing up to manhood and claiming myfather's realm. But in good time the friends of Erik were aware of themessengers; so Erik arrayed Astrid for departure, and gave her goodguides, and sent her east--away into the Swede realm to one HakonGamle, a friend of his and a man of might, with whom we abode in allwelcome for a long while."
"And what then?" urged Sigurd. For the boy had paused, and had pulled atangle of brown seaweed from the rock where he was sitting, and wascracking the little air bladders between his fingers.
"Now it chanced," continued Olaf, "that even again Queen Gunnhildsecretly learned our hiding place. So she sent a goodly company east tothe Swede king with good gifts and fair words, asking that he mightsend Olaf Triggvison back with them into Norway, where Gunnhild wouldfoster me, and bring me up as became a king's son. And the king sent toOfrestead. But my mother Astrid knew that there was treachery inthis--for in like manner had Gunnhild beguiled my father,--and shewould 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 mymother took me on board a trading ship that was eastward bound forGardarike; for in that land her brother was a great man, and she knewthat he would gladly succour us until I should be of an age to avengemy father's death and claim my rightful heritage."
At these words Sigurd grew very grave, and he put his hand gently onOlaf's arm, and asked to know what ill had befallen Queen Astrid, andwhether she had reached her journey's end.
"Alas!" answered Olaf. "You ask me what I cannot tell. Would that Iknew her to be still living! But never once have I seen her or heardtidings of her since the dread day when we were brought into this landand sold into bondage."
As he spoke the lad looked sadly over the sea to where the viking shipwas slowly drifting into the shadow of the holms. Sigurd's eyes dweltupon him with curious intentness.
"We set sail across the Eastern Sea," Olaf went on "and there were manymerchants 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 agreat viking ship, that bore down quickly upon us, and attacked ourseamen, 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 madecaptives the rovers took and shared us among themselves as their bondslaves, and it befell that my mother and I were parted. An Esthoniannamed Klerkon Flatface got me as his portion, along with Thoralf andThorgils. Klerkon deemed Thoralf over old for a thrall, and could notsee any work in him, so he cruelly slew him before our eyes and casthis body into the sea. But he had us two lads away with him, and hesold us here in the marketplace in exchange for a white goat. Then,being companions in our misfortune, Thorgils and I swore fosterbrotherhood, and we took an oath in handshaking that when we grewstrong enough we would go out upon the sea and take vengeance upon theman who had slain old faithful Thoralf."
Sigurd pointed outward to the ship that was afar off upon the dimhorizon.
"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 thevessel's gangplank I saw him standing on the lypting; and I knew him bythe token that his nose was flat against his face. I had a mind tothrow one of my knives at him, but there were over many of his menaround, who would soon have overpowered me had I been so rash. Andnow," the boy added, as he glanced up
at the darkening sky, "it is timethat 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 alreadyhave I tarried here."
And before Sigurd could put out his hand to detain him Olaf had boundedup the rocks, and was soon lost to sight.