Book 1 — CHAPTER I. DENMARK. (continued 3)

|867 to 882.|

From Orkadal Harald transferred his arms to Ganlardal, which is now also a portion of Drontheim, immediately to the east of the Swedish province of Jamtland. In this expedition he is said to have been joined by Hako, a powerful jarl, by whose aid he subdued the whole province, and the adjoining one of Strinda. In reward for this timely service he placed Hako over the new conquest, with the dignity and rights of jarl. Proceeding still to the north, the conqueror subdued Stiordal, Veradal, Scaunia, and Sparbyggia, all situated in the modern government of Drontheim. The islands in the west were, at the same time, subjected to his sway. Still Harald proceeded to the north, and the two kings of Naumdal submitted, one of them being invested with the dignity of jarl. Thinking that he had now penetrated far enough into the north, since there was nothing beyond Naumdal but vast marshes and trackless forests, scarcely habitable by men^[172], Harald returned into Drontheim, where he resolved to await the return of spring, before pursuing his conquests in the south. In that province he fixed his abode, and built a town, which he resolved to make his usual seat of government. There he forgot Gyda, so far as to marry Asa, the daughter of jarl Hako; but perhaps he was merely tired of celibacy, and relied on his royal prerogative of obtaining another wife whenever he pleased. He did not, however, pass this season in mere indulgence; most of it was spent in constructing new vessels, and in the discipline of his 171followers. No one, says the historian, was allowed to enter his palace, except such as excelled in bodily strength or courage. To them he committed the building of his ships, and the command when built. The rewards which he held out to all champions were so ample that hundreds flocked to his standard. When spring arrived he had a formidable fleet, and a large army,—large, we mean, in comparison of those which northern kings usually brought into the field. The first people were the Möre Fylke, or the maritime inhabitants immediately south of Drontheim. Here he had to oppose two kings, and, as usual, victory shone on his banners,—both chiefs being sent to Odin’s hall. With the two provinces over which they had presided he adopted the same policy as with those of the east and north; that is, he subjected them to feudal obligations. They were intrusted as fiefs to jarl Rognevald, and with them both ships and men to defend the coast no less than the interior. This Rognevald was celebrated alike for valour and wisdom, and was the father of Rollo, first duke of Normandy, to whose exploits we shall advert in a future chapter. The summer and autumn were passed in consolidating their conquests; the winter was spent in Drontheim in preparing for new wars; nor did Harald affect to conceal his intention of subduing Sunmore, a province immediately south of Raumadal, as Raumadal was south of Nordmore,—both subject to Rognevald. In one respect this announcement of his views—this manifest approach to universal empire—was imprudent, since it enabled the king of Sunmore to form alliances with the neighbouring reguli, whom the same common danger served to unite. But before the confederation could acquire much strength, he met and defeated the three chiefs who had brought their powers to oppose him. Sunmore was the reward of this victory. The king of the Fiords was next vanquished, and the two districts added to the two other conquests by jarl Rognevald. Not that these conquests were obtained without bloodshed. 172They were sometimes dearly purchased by the loss of his valiant jarls and bravest followers. Sometimes, too, the ambition of those chiefs was injurious to the progress of the royal arms. Thus Hako, the father-in-law of Harald, and another jarl, contended with each other for the government of Sogne (Sygna-fylke); and one died in the field; the other received a mortal wound, and died soon afterwards.^[173]

|882 to 884.|

The success of Harald gave equal umbrage and alarm to Eric, the son of Emund, king of the Swedes.^[174] Taking the field, the latter subdued Vermeland, and placed over it a jarl, whose jurisdiction should extend to Swinasund in the south. Nor was he satisfied with this acquisition: on the contrary, he asserted that he would not lay down his arms until he had incorporated with his dominions Westfold, Raumarik, and the whole of southern Norway as far as the ocean,—possessions which he claimed on the pretext that they had once belonged to his ancestors. This was an unexpected blow to Harald; but he hoped to arrest its consequences by negotiation; and for this purpose he solicited an interview with Eric, in Vermeland. As he had reason, far more than suspicion, that some of the chiefs in these provinces were in communication with Eric, he assembled the Thing, or provincial assembly, in each, and complained of the traitors. Some cleared themselves by the ordeal; some redeemed themselves by the ordinary pecuniary mulct; others were punished in various ways. From these states he hastened to Vermeland, to the house of Aki, a vassal of his, celebrated alike for his riches and dignity, who had readily undertaken to be the host of the two kings. On this occasion Aki is said to have adopted the strange expedient of lodging Eric in old apartments, and Harald in new ones; and of making the same distinction between the plate, the furniture, and drinking horns. The interview was not satisfactory to Eric, and, perhaps, brought no advantage to Harald; but the latter was grateful for the hospitality of Aki, while the former 173resented the manner in which he had been treated. Having seen Harald on horseback, and, as if he had a presentiment of his fate, confided to that king the interests of his son, he next attended Eric to the neighbouring wood. Being asked by this monarch the reason of the distinctions which he had made, he replied that he hoped king Eric had no reason to complain of ill-treatment; that, because Eric was an elderly and Harald a young man, he had thus acted. This reply did not lessen the anger of Eric, who reminded Aki that he had once been his vassal. “I have not forgotten that,” replied Aki, “and I also remember that thou wast once mine.”^[175] The king immediately drew his sword, and killed the man whose hospitality he had so lately shared. Harald, being informed of the deed, rode in pursuit of Eric, whom, had he overtaken him, he would certainly have sacrificed to his vengeance. This unfortunate circumstance embittered the enmity already subsisting between the rivals. From year to year hostilities were renewed, chiefly in Gothland, or the confines of Vermeland; but they were not of importance enough to recall Harald from the east and centre of Norway, especially after he had placed his uncle Guthrum as jarl over all the regions which he held in Sweden.^[176]

|885.|

On his return to Drontheim, where he passed the following winter, Harald found that the reguli of the provinces were still unconquered; and even many of the chiefs who lay within his hereditary jurisdiction were confederating to crush, or, at least, to resist him. It was, indeed, a formidable confederacy. To crush it, Harald, with his usual celerity, collected his forces, both maritime and land, and proceeded towards the south. The armament which he encountered in the bay of Hafursfiord was very different from those which he had hitherto encountered: here were more kings, more 174vassals, more men, among whom were the greatest heroes of Norway. The fate of that country manifestly depended upon the fate of the ensuing battle. It was a struggle between monarchy and aristocracy,—between the sovereign power and a multitude of independent states,—between an established government and perpetual anarchy,—between society and domestic piracy. They whose ancestors had for ages been accustomed to the piratical life, and had considered it their proudest calling, were eager to fight for what they deemed their privileges. The struggle was worthy of the occasion; prodigies of valour were performed on both sides; but, in the end, victory declared for Harald. Long was this victory celebrated in the north. It was held equal to the most celebrated in ancient times. It was the subject of several poems, among which is one by Hornkloft, the Icelandic bard attached to the court of Harald, whose metrical history was of such service to Snorro, the compiler of Heimskringla.^[177]

175|885.|

After this victory, Norway was unable to resist the conqueror. The reguli, and jarls, and native chiefs, who refused to submit, were driven into exile. Some, preferring liberty, or rather an unbridled licence, to an established government, voluntarily exiled themselves. From this year may be dated the colonisation, by Norwegian settlers, of the Orkneys, the Hebrides, the Shetlands, the Feroes, Iceland; the depredations on the coasts of Great Britain, and Ireland, and Spain; the invasion of Russia and Normandy by successful hordes of pirates. So great an emigration might, one would suppose, greatly weaken the physical resources of Harald; but this does not appear to have been the fact: on the contrary, he spared numerous families to people the wilds of Jamta, Helsingia, and other regions more to the north, which, prior to his time, are said to have been wholly or partially desert. But if Norway was thus his, he had no idle life. The pirates whom he had banished infested his coasts, until he, in person, must dislodge them from their strong holds in the islands of the western ocean. To their and his maritime transactions we shall advert on a future occasion.—Harald, being now the monarch of Norway, says the Saga, remembered that he had accomplished his vow, and that his hair might be cut and combed. It was surely high time, if, as we are told, he had resembled, previously, a wild beast rather than a man, and had been called Harald Lufa, or “Harald with the Horrid Hair.” When this deformity was removed,—when the shears and the bath had done their work,—he obtained the epithet of Harfager, or Fair-hair. And he now remembered the saying of the maiden who had excited him to all his successes. Sending for her, he made her the partner of his throne; and by her had a daughter and four sons.—All this is fabulous, but unequal to 176what follows, which appears to have occurred some years before this marriage. One winter, the king hastened to the uplands to hold the festivities of Yule; and he ordered the banquet to be prepared in the villa of Thopte. The evening before the opening of the feast, as he sat at table, a domestic advanced to say that a Finn, waiting at the door, wished to see him. At this bold message the anger of the king and the surprise of all present may be conceived, and an indignant answer was returned. But Swaso was resolute: he bade Harald be informed that he was the Finn whose hut was on the other side of the mountain, and whom he had promised to visit. The monarch went to the door, and immediately said that he would accompany him to the hut. On their entrance, the daughter of Swaso—a wondrous beauty—arose, and presented a horn of mead to the royal visitor. It was a magic drink, designed to make the king amorous, and it had its effect. He wished to take her as his mistress; but she had too much art for this; she would be the affianced bride, or nothing. That ceremony was promptly and easily performed, and the royal wish was gratified. So much was he captivated with the beautiful Snæfrida, that for years, though he visited, he forgot his country, capital, his subjects, his throne, his very existence. Four sons were the issue of this connection,—Sigurd, Halfdan, Gudred, Rognevald. She then died; but her corpse preserved the same spotless white as when living. Corruption could not take hold of it. During three whole years he sat by the corpse, thinking that every moment life would revisit it; and his subjects deeply bewailed his infatuation. To dissolve the spell was the work of Thorleif the Wise, one of his jarls. The corpse was removed from the bed on which it lay, when suddenly the most offensive odour was emitted by it. It was hastily borne to the funeral pile: serpents, and lizards, and toads, and every species of venomous reptile continued to issue from it; yet the king did not regain his sound mind until the corpse was consumed. 177Ashamed of his weakness, he resumed his royal duties, and at once became the pride of his people. Magic drinks, we need scarcely observe, are of perpetual occurrence in the annals of the ancient north. Saxo alludes to many; but none surely was ever so potent as this,—none before or since, in the wildest dreams of fancy, could preserve the empire of love for three years after the death of its object.^[178]

This fable has been noticed that the reader may be prepared for the dissensions which soon took place among the sons of Harald. The four whom Snæfrida had borne him he learned to detest, through hatred of the mother; and at length he dismissed them from his palace, with the resolution to see them no more. After some time, however, one of them, Gudred, went to Hiodulf, the jarl, who was in great power, and besought him to procure him an interview with the king. Both proceeded to the royal palace, which they reached late in the evening, and they sat on the benches outside the doors unknown to everybody. Harald happened to be walking on the pavement in the court-yard—probably to enjoy the nightly breeze—and his eyes carelessly wandered over the seats. But the two strangers attracted his notice, and he asked the elder what had brought him there? Uncovering his head, Hiodulf was immediately recognised and welcomed. The veteran now pleaded for the exiled sons. He observed that if the mother’s race was bad, the father’s was not; and that the excellency of the one might more than counter-balance the evil of the other. The king was persuaded; Gudred was received into the palace; the three brothers were sent into the provinces and occupied in military exercises, in which they excelled other men.^[179]

|869 to 900.|

The sons of Gyda and Snæfrida were not the only 178ones born to Harald. By his numerous wives—and he is said to have had nine at the same time—he had a numerous progeny, who were destined to trouble his declining years. By Gyda, as we have before related, he had one daughter, Alofa, and four sons, Sigtrug, Ruric, Frode, and Thorgils. By Ragnilda, a princess of Jutland, he had Harald Blodöxe. By Swanhilda, the daughter of a Norwegian jarl, he had three sons, Olaf, Biorn, and Ragnar. By Alfhilda, daughter of the jarl of Ringarik, he had three sons and one daughter, Dag, Ring, Gudred, and Ingigerda. By the Finnish witch he had the four sons we have just enumerated. By Asa, the first of his mistresses, the daughter of jarl Hako, he had Guthrum, Halfdan the Black, Halfdan the White, and Sigfred. That he had other children by his numerous wives is undoubted. Of these, was Rognevald, and another that must be particularly mentioned,—Hako the Good, whom, in his old age, a Norwegian lady, named Thora, bore to him, and who eventually sat on the throne of Norway. All these, in conformity with the manners of the times, were educated by their maternal relatives. Few of these children survived the father. Their ambition was great, their crimes greater; and as the king descended into the vale of years, he lost all authority over them. The deaths of many were deservedly tragical. The four sons of the Finn excelled the rest in wickedness. Incensed that they were not admitted to a participation in the government, and hating the experienced jarls, whose advice was so useful to their father, they burnt Rognevald, the most obnoxious of all, in his own house, together with sixty of his followers. After this hellish deed—a deed, however, so common in northern history, as to excite little surprise—Halfdan fled to the Orkneys, but Gudred remained. The only chastisement which Harald inflicted on the latter, was to send him into Agder, probably to fill some honourable post; but Thorer, a son of Rognevald, was raised to the vacant dignity of jarl of Moria. Soon afterwards, Halfdan, who 179had usurped the government of the Orkneys, was taken and put to death by Einar, the lawful jarl; Harald, at the instigation of Halfdan’s brothers, sailed to revenge the death of his son; but on reaching these islands, he accepted a pecuniary mulct, and left Einar in possession of the government. Guthrum, the eldest of Harald’s sons by Asa, was the next victim; he was slain in Gothia by the Swedish governor. Halfdan the White, while absent on a piratical expedition on the eastern coast of the Baltic, was killed by the inhabitants. But the worst evil that the king dreaded was their wars with one another. To avert this calamity, on reaching his fiftieth year, he divided his provinces among them, giving to each the regal title, yet reserving to himself the supreme title of monarch. Thus, to Olaf, Biorn, Sigtrug, Frode, and Thorgils, he ceded Vingulmark, Raumarik, Westfold, and Thelamark; to Dag, Ring, and Ragnar he resigned Hedmark and Gudbransdal; to the sons of Snæfrida he gave Ringarik, Hadaland, Thotnia, and the adjacent districts; Ruric and Godred had extensive domains in the central provinces, and were generally resident at the court of Harald; Eric had Halogaland, Nordmore, and Ramsdal; over Drontheim were Halfdan the Black and Sigurd, and the same dignity had been shared by Halfdan the White. To Thorgils and Frode he gave a certain number of vessels, with permission to raise kingdoms for themselves, if they could, in the British islands. They are said to have conquered Dublin; but both perished fatally,—Frode by poison, Thorgils by the hands of the natives. Nor did he forget the offspring of his daughters. While the eldest children of his sons were for ever to enjoy the regal title, those of his daughters were to possess the dignity of jarl, and their seat in the assemblies of the state to be just one step below that of the male descendants.^[180]

180|920.|

In the preceding paragraph, we have seen the tragical deaths of five among the sons of Harald. These were Halfdan, Haleg, Guthrum, Halfdan the White, Frode, and Thorgils. Others were to be soon added to the number. Rognevald being accused of magic,—a science which, ever since his adventure with Snæfrida, Harald held in the utmost abomination,—Eric Blodöxe, the favourite son of the monarch, was sent into Hadaland, where Rognevald was then residing. Finding, or, perhaps, pretending to find, the prince surrounded by eighty wizards,—poor wizards they, not to foresee their fate!—Eric set fire to the house, and consumed all within. This deed, which in our days would not be considered a merit, was held to be a great one in his. But another deed of his was not beheld with equal favour. Biorn, one of his brothers, who, as king of Westfold, generally resided at Tunsberg, was equally attached to piracy and commerce. By his frequent expeditions, he had amassed great riches; and his liberality, no less than his judicious administration, had won him the respect of his subjects. On these Eric cast a longing eye; nor was he less jealous of a brother, who, when his father should be no more, might dispute his claim to the monarchy,—a claim which he always advanced, and which his father had sanctioned. With the view of enveloping the merchant king in his toils, Eric demanded the tribute which was due to Harald for the kingdom of Westfold. Biorn replied that he had always delivered it into the hands of his sovereign, either personally, or through his agents; and that he should not, on this occasion, deviate from the custom. A dispute arose, and Eric, in great anger, left Tunsberg. At nightfall Biorn also left it for a marine residence not far from the city. With a chosen band Eric followed his steps, and assailed the house as the king sat at table. With all the domestics whom he could muster, the latter issued from the house, and a combat followed, which was fatal to many of his attendants, and to himself. A rich prey was the reward of this fratricide; 181and Eric, exulting, returned to his northern kingdom. Seeing the odium in which the author of this deed, notwithstanding his influence over the now weak mind of Harald, was held by most of the Norwegians, Halfdan the Black made an attempt to assassinate the murderer, by setting fire to the country house in which he slept; but the dormitory was separated from the main building, and Eric escaped. To revenge this outrage on his darling son, Harald collected his troops, and marched against Halfdan; but the intervention of an aged jarl effected a reconciliation. That reconciliation, however, was not sincere, so far, at least, as Halfdan and Eric were concerned.^[181]

|910 to 913.|

For the doting attachment of Harald to the most bloody of his sons, no good reason has been or can be assigned. He was not the oldest son, nor was his mother, Ragnilda, the most beloved of the royal wives. Yet this paternal fondness did not screen the royal youth from the dangers of his profession. As early as his twelfth year, he is said to have become a piratical chief, and, with the five vessels which he had received from his father, to have ravaged all the maritime coasts of Europe from Russia to Ireland. On that of Finland he had, says the legend, a marvellous adventure, which, as it has been made the foundation of some tales popular in the middle ages, we shall abridge. While he and his companions were in the remotest part of that magic region, on the very borders of the still more wondrous Biarmia, they one day reached a cottage the mistress of which was a supernatural beauty. She told them that they were in great danger; that she had two lovers, the most able magicians of the country, who were also her instructors; that they could hunt the footsteps of man on snow or ice, with as much instinct as the blood-hound; that their arrows never missed aim; that they put all strangers to death; that, when 182angry, every living thing died beneath their glance, and the earth itself was affected. As they came daily to the hut, there seemed no hope of escape until she promised to conceal them, and to aid them in the destruction of her odious suitors. Having concealed them, she took a linen bag full of what they conceived to be ashes, and scattered the contents around the hut, both within and without. The Finns soon entered, and inquired what strangers had arrived; and on her replying that she had seen nobody, they expressed no little surprise: they had traced footsteps in the snow to the very door. However, they lighted a fire, cooked their provisions, and when satiated, Gunhilda prepared her own bed. There she lay down, but they would not. As they were rivals, both passionately in love, and each afraid that, while he slept, the other might obtain some advantage over the lady, they resolved to remain awake. During three successive nights this sleeping on her part, and watching on theirs, continued, until nature was exhausted. Gunhilda saw her time; she invited both to lie beside her; they joyfully obeyed her, and she put one arm around the neck of each. The effect—that of magic (for she had been trained in a good school), was instantaneous; both fell into a deep sleep, from which it was impossible to awake them. There she fettered them, and called on Eric and his companions to despatch them. The deed was easily perpetrated, and the corpses were cast outside of the hut: but it was followed by incessant thunder, which, during a whole night, prevented them from leaving the place. When serenity was restored, all left, Gunhilda with the rest; and before the day closed, the magic beauty became the bride of Eric.^[182]

|930 to 934.|

Fate had not yet done its worst on the offspring of the Norwegian monarch. His son Gudred perished at sea. And when he resigned his imperial dignity in favour of his beloved Eric, other tragedies might have been foreseen—if not in his lifetime, immediately after 183his death. The elevation of Eric was opposed, among others, by Halfdan the Black, who, also, assumed the title of monarch. Olaf, brother of the murdered Biorn, who had succeeded that prince in the government of Westfold, did the same. In two years Halfdan was removed by poison,—the deed, as was commonly reported, of Gunhilda. Harald was little moved by these atrocities. So long as his favourite son enjoyed life and empire, he cared little for the rest. But his own days were hastening to an end. When he resigned his sceptre to his son Eric, he was eighty years of age. In two or three years after that event,—in the year 934, or, according to others, 936—he paid the debt of nature. The place of his interment was one of his manors in Drontheim. Near the spot, a magnificent heathen temple was erected, which was standing in the days of Snorro.^[183]

To dwell on the character of this monarch, after the ample relation which we have given of his deeds, would be useless. With the exception of his martial prowess, of his enterprising spirit, of his unwearied activity, we see little to praise in him. His numerous adulteries—his feebleness soon after he had passed the meridian of life—his blind policy—have not often been exceeded. Much praise has been lavished on him for his extirpation of piracy; but he is entitled to little. So long as his own shores were not visited by the marauders, he cared not what depredations were committed on others. His chiefs, his very sons, followed piracy as a profession, not merely with his sanction, but at his express command. He has been called the friend of the peasants, or rather of the humble allodial proprietors; but did not policy make him so? If they were plundered by those in authority, could they furnish the new contributions which, as the first of Norway’s feudal sovereigns, he exacted from them? Then, as to his boasted administration of the laws, nothing is more certain than their perpetual neglect: after he had passed 184his fortieth year, they were inoperative,—despised by his own sons, evaded by the jarls. Nor, however brilliant his conquests, can he be called the founder of the Norwegian monarchy. If he destroyed many tyrants, he replaced them by greater: if he united many independent states into one empire, by his own deliberate act he broke that empire into fragments, and restored the anarchy which he had laboured to destroy. Widely different is his character before and after he had attained the meridian of life. It seemed as if he were led by some evil spirit to undo, in the latter period, all that he had done in the former. But he had no comprehensive views, no sound policy: during the first half of his life he fought for ambition; during the latter, he was the tool of his wives, his sons, and his other favourites. On the whole, we are disposed to consider him as inferior to his father, Halfdan the Black.

|934 to 936.|

Scarcely was Eric, who, from his sanguinary actions, was surnamed the Bloody Axe (Blodöxe), the nominal sovereign of Norway, when he called on his brothers to recognise his title, and pay him the tributes which they had paid to his father. Instead of complying, Olaf and Sigurd exacted the usual tributes in their respective kingdoms,—an undoubted act of sovereignty. To chastise their presumption, the indignant Eric equipped an armament, and hastened to Tunsberg, the seat of their domination: he was met by the two kings on the declivity of a hill near the city; but, his forces being much superior in number, they were defeated and slain. The same fate would have befallen Trygve, the son of Olaf, and Godred the son of the murdered Biorn,—both nephews of Eric,—had they not consulted their safety by repairing to the inaccessible fastnesses of the uplands. The tyrant was now hated more intensely than before, and a majority of the people began to look for a deliverer of the race of the Ynglings. But where could one be found, seeing that all Eric’s brothers had either paid the debt of nature, or perished untimely? There was one exception to this fate: Hako, the last of 185Harald’s sons, was still alive, and in England. From our own historians, no less than from Snorro, it is evident that friendly relations had always subsisted between Athelstane of England and Harald, and that presents had passed between them. One of them was a magnificent sword, which Athelstane sent to Harald; and Harald, in return, sent a magnificent ship, with his infant son Hako to be educated in the polite court of the Saxon. This simple narrative has been much embellished by Snorro. He informs us that when the ambassador delivered the splendid sword to Harald, and the monarch had seized the handle, the ambassador exclaimed, “Now art thou the liege man of our lord the king, in that thou hast received his sword!”—alluding to the most ordinary symbol of investiture. The proud Norwegian was exasperated; but, on reflection, he retaliated in a manner equally ingenious. Causing a magnificent ship to be prepared, he despatched in it his son Hako, under the care of a trusty chief. On reaching the court of Athelstane, he entered the palace, and laying the young child—then about seven years of age—on the knees of the king, said, “King Harald commands thee to educate his bastard!” The facts are as we have represented them on the authority of English contemporary writers,—facts which an ancient chronicler of Norway, Theodric, also admits. The writers of both countries agree that Athelstane nobly discharged the duty which he had undertaken. Hako was educated well, was of course baptized, and taught the truths of Christianity; and in the English king he found a counsellor, a friend, a father. He was about fourteen when he heard of Harald’s death, and of his brother Eric’s accession. The following year brought him so many reports of Eric’s cruelty, and of the desire of many Norwegians to rid themselves of the tyrant, that he began to regard the throne as his future inheritance. He had ambition; but in a virtuous mind, ambition, like every other feeling, may become an instrument of good. Hako longed to be a king,—not 186merely from the desire of power, but from a wish to benefit his countrymen, especially by diffusing among them the blessings of Christianity. When, therefore, many emissaries from Norway arrived at the English court, and besought him to rescue the country from the yoke, he readily obeyed the call. Being supplied with ships, men, money, by his generous friend, about two years after his father’s death, he sailed towards Norway.^[184]

|937 to 946.|

Hako landed at Drontheim, and the inhabitants here assembled in a Thing, or general meeting, when every free-born head of a family, who had land, was permitted to vote, or at least to sanction, by outward expressions of applause, the opinions of the chiefs. Though most of them were friendly to the royal youth, they dreaded the vindictive character of Eric. But in that meeting the cause of Hako was eloquently advocated by Sigurd, one of the most powerful jarls. And when Hako himself arose, so like his father was he, that a murmur of applause ran through the multitude. When he spoke, all were attentive; when he promised, on the condition of their making him king, to abolish the oppressive obligations of feudality, and restore the lands to their ancient allodial tenure, one universal shout proclaimed him king of Norway. The report spread through the kingdom that Harald was restored in his son, but that the son had not the worst quality of his father,—that of oppressing the people by feudal exactions. The joyful news that the allodial tenure was to be restored, spread, quick as lightning, over the country. From Drontheim, Hako proceeded into the uplands, where a Thing was assembled, and he was received in the same manner. Here he was joined by many chiefs; among others, by Drygve and Sigurd, on whom he conferred the regal title, with the government of Westfold to the 187latter, and Raumarik with Vingulmark to the former. This condition accompanied the investiture,—that half of their revenues should be paid into the treasury of Hako, the other half be retained by themselves. Those revenues, it was manifest, would be much less than they had been while every estate was a fief belonging to the crown: allodial property has always been lightly taxed. Hako now returned to Drontheim, to raise troops and prepare ships for a contest with his brother Eric, who was then in the province of Vikia. The case of the latter was evidently hopeless; though he called the people to his aid, few obeyed him; and the men who were with him at the time of Hako’s embarkation, left him, one by one, to swell the ranks of his rival. He had no hope of security, but in flight; and he repaired to the Orkneys. There collecting all the ships and all the men he could, he proceeded to the south, ravaging the Scottish coast as he passed along, until he arrived in Northumbria. This province had never been well affected to the Anglo-Saxon yoke, which, indeed, was a very recent one. It had been held for some time by Danish chiefs; half its population was Danish or Norwegian; and it had been the prey of the sea kings from the eighth to the tenth century. Athelstane thought that if Eric would become his vassal, embrace Christianity, and defend Northumbria against the pirates of the north, he would be a far more useful subject than any of the Saxon thanes. A messenger from the English king met the exiled monarch: the proposals of the former were eagerly embraced; Eric and his whole family were baptized; homage was done for the province; and York was chosen as the seat of the new government. But on the part of Athelstane this was an impolitic step. From common report he must surely have known something of Eric’s character,—that neither peace nor obedience could be expected from a turbulent, ambitious, cruel, and ungrateful man. During the reign of Athelstane, indeed, he committed no depredations on the 188English coast, but he ravaged those of Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, without intermission. The fame which he acquired in these expeditions brought many Norwegians, many Swedes, many Danes to his standard. During the reign of Edmund the Elder, he appears to have been absent from Northumbria; and so he was during the first year of Edred’s reign. He then returned, and laid waste the English coast. Edred marched against him, and compelled the Northumbrians to do homage to him instead of Eric. The latter collected new forces, and again contended for the kingdom; but he contended in vain; he was signally defeated, and, if Snorro be correct, slain on the battle field. But Matthew of Westminster asserts that, after his defeat, he was betrayed by one of his chiefs, and slain in the wilds of Yorkshire. However this be, from this time Northumbria became an English province: Eric, as the chronicler of Mailros observes, was its last king. The widow and sons of this exile being driven from Northumbria, took refuge in the Orkneys and Shetlands, where the latter resumed their piratical depredations wherever prey was to be found. Subsequently, as we shall perceive, they were entertained at the court of the Danish king. The character of Eric of the Bloody Axe needs no comment. He was a favourite with all pirates, and, for this very reason, with Odin himself.^[185]

|939 to 940.|

By the departure of Eric, Hako was the sole monarch of Norway, though, as we have before related, he imprudently left the regal title to two princes of his family. His first hostilities were against the Danes, who infested his dominions, but whom he pursued into Jutland, and defeated a second time. But they came from Zealand and other islands of Denmark; and in Zealand he sought and extirpated them. Those of Gothland were next chastised by him. Harald Blaatand, 189the Danish king, offended with the presumption of Hako in thus entering his bays and destroying the vessels of his people, threatened revenge. To annoy his brother sovereign and fellow Christian, he received, with much ceremony, Gunhilda, the widow of Eric Blodöxe, and her children, and furnished them with ample means of support. The sons of Eric had been taught the profession of piracy; and on their settlement in Denmark, they built vessels, and committed frequent depredations on Vikia, one of the southern provinces of Norway. In return, the chiefs of Hako, especially king Trygve, desolated the coasts of Denmark. The Norwegian monarch was no less a warrior than his pagan ancestors; but though he thus violated the spirit, he was not insensible to the forms, of Christianity. One of his objects, as we have before observed, in striving for the Norwegian throne, was the diffusion of the Christian religion. He did not, however, for some years, openly interfere with that of his subjects. He had need of their aid; and he had no wish to estrange them by an ostentatious display of his own worship. For some years, therefore, he worshipped in silence. By degrees he drew his friends, his courtiers, to embrace the new faith. He next extended his favour to all who consented to be baptized. The number of converts increasing, he thought that he might now act more openly: he accordingly sent to England for a bishop and priests to become the harbingers of the new faith throughout Norway. On their arrival, he destroyed some of the heathen temples in Drontheim and the neighbouring districts. Many of the pagans showed a philosophical indifference to both religions: some, south of Drontheim, would do what the people of that city should do themselves; the majority were anxious to be guided by the decrees of a Thing. An assembly was therefore convoked in Drontheim; but the members being alarmed at the magnitude of the change proposed by the king, devolved the decision on a more general one, which should be 190convoked at Froste. It was evident that the zeal of Hako was impelling him too rapidly in the career of reformation.^[186]

Amidst these transactions, Snorro gives us some interesting facts respecting the religious customs of the Northmen. When the public sacrifices were to be offered,—which, as we have before related, was obligatory three times in the year^[187],—the whole of the neighbouring population hastened to the nearest temple, bearing provisions and mead. On these occasions, cattle of all kinds, and numerous horses, were sacrificed. The blood of the victims was called klot; the basins in which the blood was received, klot-bollar; and klotteinar were the names of the instruments with which the blood was sprinkled over the altars, the pedestals, the walls of the temple within and without, the assembled multitude, and the provisions which were about to be eaten. In the centre of the temple was an open space where the fires were burning; and over them were suspended the cauldrons and pots destined to cook the sacrificial meats. The entertainment which followed was under the care of the sovereign; and it was his duty to consecrate the meats and cups before they were used by the people. The first cup was emptied to Odin for victory and prosperity in war; the second, to Niord and Freyr, for an abundant season and for peace; and when these were drunk, it was customary, in many places, to pour a libation from an overflowing horn, in memory of deceased heroes and kings. Then horns were emptied in memory of inferior personages,—of relatives and friends,—and these were called the minne, or smaller cups. To these sacrifices, and to the pagan rites in general, jarl Sigurd, who had done so much to procure the election of Hako, was much addicted. He was as zealous, says the historian, as Harald Harfager had ever been. And he was exceedingly liberal: in the absence of the king, 191when it was his duty to consecrate the food and drink, he often bore the whole of the expense,—no slight one, where so many hundreds of cattle had to be sacrificed, and so many thousands of people entertained. Hence his fame was much diffused; and as he was Hako’s uncle by the mother’s side, he had considerable weight in the royal councils.^[188]

|941.|

On the day appointed, the national Thing was assembled; and Hako, after proposing a body of laws which were readily adopted, and to which we shall advert in a future chapter^[189], openly adverted to the all-important subject. He besought the whole multitude, rich and poor, noble and serf, young and old, the happy and the wretched, to embrace Christianity,—to acknowledge one only God, and Jesus, the son of Mary, as his son and equal. He implored them to abandon the rites of heathenism,—to refrain from labour every seventh day, and observe it as a festival,—and to fast another day in the seven. At these words a murmur went through the multitude,—all freemen, be it remembered, all proprietors of slaves, all landowners. Were two days out of the seven to be thus lost?—for who could work on a fast-day? If this novelty were adopted, assuredly the ground could not be cultivated, nor could there be a sufficiency of food for the people. A rich and popular landowner of Gaulandal, the oracle of the assembled multitude, then arose. “When thou, O king, wast first elected by us in the public assembly of Drontheim, and didst restore to us the lands of our forefathers, we all thought that the highest happiness was to be our lot. But now we are in the greatest uncertainty whether thou hast really made us free, or art preparing for us a new slavery, by this strange proposal that we should abandon the religion of all our fathers—men far more excellent than we—a religion which has always been advantageous to Norway. Through the great love which 192we bore thee, we conferred on thee the privilege of introducing new laws. The code of laws which thou hast this day proposed, and which we have promised to maintain, we shall all of us inviolably maintain. All of us will follow thee as our leader, and honour thee as our king,—while any one of us shall live,—so that thou wilt proceed moderately, and ask not from our love what we cannot lawfully grant. But if, as now seems to be the case, thou not only requirest this change from us, but art preparing to force our inclinations to it, know that we have all determined to abandon thee, and to choose another king, under whose sway we may be permitted to observe a religion so dear to our hearts.” The good sense of this reply might have been despised by Hako; but the menace was to be regarded, when it was received with applause by the assembled multitude. This was a critical moment, and Sigurd, whose authority, alike from his dignity and character, was so great, now came forward. As soon as the tumult had subsided, he assured them that the king wished what they wished, and that the good understanding between them would never be destroyed. The people replied,—“Then let king Hako do as his father did,—offer sacrifices to the gods for abundance and peace!” When the assembly was dissolved, Sigurd besought the king to reserve his intention of proselyting for more suitable times, and, above all, not to incense nobles and people by refusing some show of compliance with what all had demanded.^[190]

|942 to 956.|

The proceedings which we are now relating doubtless occupied many years, though, by most historians, they have been crowded into three or four. We are told that the above assembly, in which the laws of Hako were passed, was held in 941; and we know that, in 956, he was still labouring for the introduction of the new faith. Hako, though he saw the prudence of complying with Sigurd’s advice, was loth to follow it; probably he hoped to discover some way of evading even 193the slightest homage to the old faith. At the sacrificial time, however, he was compelled to go to the temple; nor could he avoid sitting on the throne, as president of the ceremonies. The office of high-priest was performed by Sigurd, who, after filling the cup, delivered it to the king for consecration to Odin. As Hako received it, he drew upon it the sign of the cross,—a thing never seen before, and highly disagreeable to all present. “How is this?” cried a chief; “does the king refuse to consecrate, and sacrifice to the gods?” A tumult arose; but it was allayed by the philosophic Sigurd, who observed that Hako had consecrated to Thor, by making on the cup the sign of that deity’s mallet. The following day he was present at the festival. The people insisted that he should taste of the horse-flesh,—he refused; that he should drink from the consecrated cup,—still he refused; that, at least, he should taste the gravy which flowed from the roasted meats,—he hesitated. The temple was in an uproar; and violent hands were about to be laid on him, when Sigurd interfered, and said that the king would do what was amply sufficient to satisfy the gods,—he would hold his head over the caldron, the handle of which he would touch with his lips, and inhale the fumes arising from it. Accordingly, the monarch approached the caldron, and was observed to cover the handle with linen before the application of his lips; he then inhaled the odour, and returned to his seat gloomy and discontented, but not more so than many of the spectators. The following year, when the yule festival, the most important of all, was to be celebrated, and the people of Drontheim were assembled together, with eight of the princely pontiffs, Hako could not avoid attending. These had agreed, not only that they would pluck up by the roots what little Christianity had yet been planted in Norway, but that they would force the monarch to sacrifice with them. In conformity with this resolution, they had destroyed three Christian churches, and killed three priests. On the first day of the sacrifices, which were 194celebrated in the great temple of Moria, Hako was peremptorily required to join in the rites. By the authority of Sigurd, the demand was so far modified that, if he would eat of the horse-flesh, and consecrate all the horns presented to him, he would satisfy the audience. He did so; nor did he, as before, make the hated sign of the cross, in offering the mead to the gods. This was guilty condescension, and he felt it: he felt, too, that he had done wrong to be present; and his anger was excited against both Sigurd and the whole pagan population of Drontheim. He vowed to be revenged,—to fall on the inhabitants with an armed force, as soon as spring appeared.^[191]

|956 to 958.|

When Hako was preparing to put his menace into execution, intelligence reached him that the sons of his brother Eric had descended on the coast of Vikia, defeated king Trygve, and were laying waste the whole province, which they were likely to subdue. To oppose the common enemy was now his object, and that of his chiefs. Even the eight pontiffs, who had been so deeply offended with his contempt of their religion, joined him: they preferred the yoke of a mild Christian to that of cruel pagans, as the sons of Eric were known to be. All hastened to the southern coast, disembarked, and joined in the battle. It was hardly contested; but, in the end, victory declared for Hako: with Guthrum, the eldest of those princes, he fought hand to hand, and killed his antagonist. Many fell; the rest hastened to their ships, and took refuge in Denmark, where they were sure of a favourable reception from Harald Blaatand. They were pursued, indeed, by the victor; but they had the advantage in celerity. In consequence of this invasion, which would, probably, be repeated, Hako revived an ancient law for the protection of his coasts,—a law once general in the north, and adopted by our Saxon kings. It divided the kingdom into maritime districts, each extending from the sea-shore as far as the rivers could boast of salmon; and each compelled to 195furnish a certain number of vessels and men in proportion to its extent. In each district, these ships were always to be so far ready, that, when an enemy appeared within sight, they should, before he could reach the coast, be prepared to receive him. That the alarm might be communicated from one district to another, huge trunks of trees were placed on the summits of the mountains, and formed into piles, so as to be converted into huge watch-fires whenever the occasion demanded. They extended from the extreme angle of the south, to the remotest elevation of the north. Yet these wise precautions were of no avail when the sons of Eric, at the head of a powerful Danish armament, and of such piratical vessels as they had been able to engage, next appeared off the southern coast. The watch-fires were not lighted; and the progress of the hostile fleet was unknown to the king until it was near at hand. The cause of this negligence is very imperfectly explained. Snorro says that the signal fires were always to begin in the east,—as if pirates could not land in the west or north!—and run in a line to the extreme south, then northwards, to the extremity of Norway. He adds that, as the watchmen who should give a false alarm would be severely punished, they were loth to light these beacons until they were sure of an enemy’s presence. Probably the ships stood out too far from the coast to be descried by the naked eye; perhaps some of the pagan sentinels were more inclined to the restoration of Eric’s sons than to the sway of a Christian prince; perhaps, too, there was bribery. Great was the astonishment, greater still the dread, of king and people, when the armament anchored in Ulfasund. Both were unprepared; and the first idea of Hako was to retire into the north until he could be joined by vessels and men sufficient to resist the invaders: but one of his officers, who had often fought with king Harald, dissuaded him from this prudent step. The king’s father, he observed, had never considered the number of the enemy; he had fought with many and with few, yet, 196on all occasions, had won the battle. This was imprudent advice; for though, in the present case, Hako, being unexpectedly joined by a considerable force, defeated the enemy, and slew one of Eric’s sons, the adventure was a rash one, was purchased with much loss, and might have ended fatally. That similar negligence did lead to a fatal result, will soon be apparent to the reader.^[192]

|958 to 963.|

That, on two successive occasions, the same negligence should be shown by the watchmen, and the same imprudent advice followed by the king, may induce, in the reader’s mind, a suspicion that Snorro has confounded the two. Hako was quietly seated at table, in one of his manor houses in the little island of Stord, off the coast of Hardaland, when a domestic entered to say that many vessels, which had a suspicious look, were in sight. The king and his guests, rushing out of the house, were satisfied that a hostile armament was actually approaching. It was led by Harald, who, since the death of his brother, was the eldest of Eric’s surviving sons. Hako, and the chiefs who happened to be with him, hastily collected all the men in the neighbourhood and advanced to repel the invaders. The battle engaged, and was, as before, desperately disputed. Hako performed his duty nobly: two champions of the enemy were soon laid at his feet; and the pirates were again put to flight, but not until Hako had received a mortal wound. He was carried on board a vessel, because he wished to be taken to one of his manors in the north; but the blood, which no art could stop, flowed so plentifully, that his cure was not expected. On reaching the manor he loved,—that in which he had been born,—he called his friends around him, and acquainted them with his last wishes. As he had only a daughter, Thora, he declared the sons of Eric his heirs; and despatched a messenger, both to acquaint them with this news, and to request that they would be merciful to his adherents,—to all, especially, who were bound to 197him by the ties of consanguinity. “Should my life be spared,” he added, “I will leave my throne and country, embrace the monastic life, and endeavour to atone for my numerous offences against God. If, as I feel, I shall die among pagans, bury me in whatever manner you please.” Soon afterwards, he breathed his last.^[193]

From the tranquillity which Hako enjoyed in regard to his subjects during the last years of his life, we may infer that he had abandoned the hope of converting his people. It has been affirmed that he became at least half a pagan. This statement is abundantly confirmed by his dying words; by the fact that he was buried according to heathen rites; and by the universal belief that his soul ascended to the hall of Odin. On this subject we have the confirmation of a pagan bard, who describes the joy of the warrior god and his chiefs at the arrival of the Norwegian monarch.^[194] It was, probably, as much for his religious indifference in the last years of his life, as from any other reason, that he was thus honoured. Yet all Norway bewailed him; whatever his faith, his virtues could not be mistaken; and the epithet which he so well deserved—that of Hako the Good—rendered his memory dear to his country. During his reign it enjoyed extraordinary abundance; robberies and violence were suppressed; the laws which he found in use he caused to be administered with vigour; and the new ones which he promulgated, and to which we shall advert in the proper place,^[195] show that he was far superior to his predecessors in his care of the internal tranquillity.^[196]

|963 to 969.|

Harald, surnamed Graefeld or Grey-mantle, the eldest son of Eric and Gunhilda, was now declared monarch of Norway. But the title had in it more of pomp than of real power. In the first place, his two 198brothers had also the regal title, and were placed over the central provinces of Norway. Then the eastern provinces were subject to the kings whom Hako the Good had placed over them; namely, Trygve, the son of Olaf; and Gudred, the son of Biorn. Nor was this all; for so popular was jarl Sigurd with the inhabitants of Drontheim, that they awarded him the privileges, though not the title, of king. Here, then, were five chiefs invested with the regal functions, and independent of one another; and, with the exception of occasional tributes, of Harald himself. This division of power could not be pleasing to Harald, who hoped one day to unite the scattered fragments of the monarchy; but for some time he was compelled to act with great caution. He acknowledged the authority of the three kings who were not his brothers, on the condition of their holding from him as they had formerly held from Hako the Good. But if even he had been sincere in these steps, the ambition of his mother, who shared in the councils of all her sons, would have led him to retrace it. She often represented to them that they had the title but not the power of kings; that if Trygve and Olaf enjoyed their kingdoms by hereditary claim, surely Sigurd, who was only a jarl, had none, and that to remove him would be an act of good policy. Harald replied that to remove so popular a chief “was not quite so easy as to kill a calf or a kid.” There were other ways, she rejoined, of effecting this object, than by open force. Sigurd had a brother who had not been raised to either wealth or consideration,—probably because he was unworthy of either,—and he was easily induced, by the promises of the king and of Gunhilda, to enter into a plot against the life of Sigurd. To throw the intended victim off his guard, extraordinary professions of friendship and splendid presents were transmitted to him by Harald. His motions were closely watched; and one night, while at one of his rural manors, with fewer attendants 199than ordinary, he perished in the flames of his own house. But the royal assassins reaped no advantage from this crime; for the inhabitants of Drontheim elected Hako, son of the deceased jarl, to the vacant dignity; and Harald, himself, was compelled to sanction the election. To fortify himself against the vengeance of the reigning family, Hako entered into a secret alliance with the two kings of the south, Trygve and Gudred. It did not escape the penetration of Gunhilda, who again entered into a secret conclave with her sons. The result was soon apparent. The royal brothers proclaimed their intention of undertaking a piratical cruise in the Baltic; and for this purpose, hastening towards the southern boundary of Norway, one of them invited king Trygve to join him. The latter accepted the proposal; but in hastening to an interview appointed by one of the brothers, he and twelve of his companions fell beneath the hands of a much superior band. While this deed was perpetrating, Harald, himself, disembarked; and hearing that Gudred was holding a feast at a house not far from the city, he hastened thither, surrounded the house, and destroyed both Gudred and his companions. The fruit of both deeds was the annexation of these provinces to the domains of the sons of Eric. But their vengeance was not complete; for Harald, surnamed Grenske, the son of Gudred, escaped first to the uplands, and when his life was not safe there, into Sweden, where he became a famous pirate.^[197]

|969 to 977.|

No sooner were these crimes perpetrated, than the sons of Eric proceeded towards the north, with the avowed purpose of destroying Hako. Knowing the inferiority of his numbers, he betook himself to the piratical life, but not until he had devastated the central provinces subject to the sons of Eric. After his departure Drontheim submitted to them; but small was the advantage which they derived from this event. 200The next summer Hako returned; and though he was frequently absent on piratical expeditions into the Baltic, in winter he always commanded at Drontheim. Many were his conflicts with the forces of Harald; and, though sometimes defeated, he had always a sure resource either in the support of the inhabitants of Drontheim, or in his own ships. The sons of Eric were not popular: one of them, soon after the departure of Hako, dishonoured the bed of a noble chief, and was killed for the crime. Throughout the annals of this bloody period, we perceive the hand of retributive justice: the man who had exercised violence became its victim. Thus the treacherous brother of Sigurd, the man who had betrayed that respected chief into the hands of his murderers, was slain in battle by the hands of Hako his nephew. Thus died Erling, another of Eric’s sons. He was followed by his lustful brother: the inhabitants of Drontheim, which during one of the frequent expeditions of Hako he had seized, being unable to support his rapacity, rose against him, and sacrificed him to their just resentment. The fate of Harald, himself, was not distant. Though, by the destruction of two kings, the expulsion of Hako, and the death of most of his brothers, he was, nominally, monarch of Norway, he was unpopular. Nor was the absent Hako negligent in creating him many troubles from without. On Norway, ever since the days of Ragnar Lodbrog, the Danish kings had cast a longing eye; they considered it, no less than Sweden, as a portion of their vast inheritance; and Hako had little difficulty in persuading Harald Blaatand to aspire to the throne of that kingdom. As the equipment of a naval force would be expensive, and might be useless, it was resolved to entice Harald of Norway into Jutland, under the pretext of doing homage to Blaatand for the fiefs which he had formerly possessed in Denmark, and which were now to be restored to him. Harald, credulous enough to believe the invitation sincere, repaired to Jutland, and was soon compelled to fight 201with the superior numbers of a chief who had been secretly instigated to assail him. In that battle he fell, fifteen years after the death of Hako the Good, and thirteen from that of jarl Sigurd.^[198]

|977 to 978.|

After this event, Hako and the Danish king, who knew the advantages which they expected could be gained only by celerity, sailed with a powerful armament for Norway. Many were the exiles who accompanied them, and whom the cruelty of Gunhilda and her sons had forced to abandon their homes. Among them was Harald Grenske, the son of king Gudred who had been so treacherously slain by the Norwegian brothers. On reaching Tunsberg, the Danish king was joined by multitudes of the inhabitants, of whom all were dissatisfied with the sons of Eric. The first care of Harald was to reward his counsellor and friend, Hako, whom he placed over seven provinces in the west and centre of the kingdom, all to be held feudally, as they had been held by the jarls of Harald Harfager. There was, however, this distinction in favour of Hako, that if the necessities of the public service should require it,—if, for instance, the territory should be invaded by an enemy,—he was at liberty to employ all its revenues for its defence. Harald Grenske, being of the royal blood of Norway, then eighteen years of age, received the title of king, and with it Westfold, Vingulmark, and part of Ayder. The rest of the kingdom was confided to Sweyn, son of the Danish monarch, as the viceroy of his father, who was hailed as the lord paramount of the whole. Gunhilda, with her two surviving sons, fled to the Orkneys, and Harald of Denmark retired to his own capital.^[199]

|978 to 988.|

In his very dreams Hako could scarcely have anticipated the prosperity which was now his lot. His father had been only the jarl of Drontheim; his own life had been perpetually hunted by the sons of Eric; he had been an exile for many years; yet he was now 202the ruler of seven provinces, not removeable at the pleasure of the Danish monarch, except by open force. But he was not, says the historian, happy. His nights were often sleepless; and when he did sleep, his dreams were disturbed. It was not remorse which thus rendered him anxious; it was ambition. That he aspired to the sovereignty of all Norway, may, from the time of Harald’s departure, be inferred from every action. But many were his opponents or rivals, whom he hoped time or chance, intrigue or revolution, would remove. The first who troubled him in his government was Ragenfrid, one of the surviving sons of Eric. From the Orkneys, this chief, with a considerable fleet, sailed for Norway. Hearing that Hako was at Drontheim, he landed in the southern provinces, and spread his devastations on every side. On the approach of the jarl he hastened to his ships; in a naval action he was victorious; but as he was unable to contend with Hako on land, he proceeded to ravage the coast wherever it was inadequately defended; and in a short time he seized Sogne, Hardaland, Fiord, and some other districts. The following spring, jarl Hako, having collected troops on every side, renewed the war. This time fortune did not desert him: he vanquished Ragenfrid, whom he also expelled from Norway. His next wish was to remove Harald Grenske; but he was wily enough to wait for time and circumstances. The same time and circumstances, he trusted, would release him from all dependence on the Danish court. At first he forwarded the stipulated revenues to Harald; but he soon sent a portion only, or withheld them entirely, on the plea that the defence of the country required them all. But he had no wish prematurely to offend that monarch; and when required to assist in the war against the emperor Otho, he served personally in the war. The issue was not prosperous: Harald, as we have before related, was compelled to receive baptism, and Hako to follow the example. But he was still a pagan; and he resolved that the missionaries, 203with whom he was to return into Norway, should never see that country. He therefore landed them on the Swedish coast, and after wasting Gothbed with fire and sword, proceeded to his favourite Drontheim. There, and wherever he had the power, he restored paganism to its ancient splendour; nor would he tolerate Christianity. This conduct was offensive to Harald; but that monarch had other wrongs to avenge. The jarl not only refused the accustomed tribute and proclaimed his independence, but ravaged the coasts of Jutland. Harald retaliated on those of Norway. His purpose was to subdue Iceland, with the sarcastic poets of which he was offended; but he had more solid reasons for the conquest than those assigned by the chronicler. That island, like the Orkneys, was the resort of pirates whenever they were defeated in Scandinavia. His desire to explore the state of Iceland before he invaded it has given rise to a legend which may be mentioned for its novelty. He persuaded a wizard—no doubt a Finn—to change his form, and repair to that island. No form seemed so judicious as that of a large fish; and under it the magician made the voyage, without the incumbrance of ships or men. But his ingenuity availed him little. On attempting to land at the first bay, a huge dragon forced him to seek the deep. At another, a large bird equally opposed his landing. If the east and north of the island were thus guarded, surely the west coast, which was then, as now, wholly unfrequented, would be more accessible. The hope was vain; a fierce bull advanced into the water to meet him. Nor was the southern coast more hospitable: as he attempted to land he perceived a huge giant, whose head was higher than the hills, and whose hand was graced with a ponderous bar of iron. To attempt the conquest of a region guarded by local deities, or by extraordinary magic, was hopeless; and the baffled Finn returned to Denmark.^[200]

|900 to 993.|

So long as Harald lived, Hako appears to have remained undisturbed; but, after the accession of Sweyn, 204a powerful fleet sailed from Denmark to chastise his rebellion. Yet it entirely failed; patriotism roused the Norwegians to unite, and repel the invaders. As yet, too, Hako had shown few proofs of that unbridled licence which distinguished him in the following years. He had many great qualities; he was active, enterprising, brave in a degree seldom equalled, even in an age of heroes. Great was his triumph over the formidable Sweyn; and he had no longer a rival, except in Harald Grenske: nor did this king long thwart his views. The way in which Grenske met his fate has in it much of romance, yet is in no respect contrary to probability, or inconsistent with the manners of the times. In a piratical expedition to the Baltic, he landed on the Swedish coast, of which kingdom Olaf, son of Eric the Victorious, was the head. In his youth Harald had been reared in Sweden; and his foster-sister was Sigfrida, mother of the king. Hearing that Harald was on the coast, not far from her manor, she sent him an invitation to visit her, and he readily accepted it. Never was hospitality more open or more agreeable. The widowed queen, who sat on a throne to honour Harald and his chiefs, presided over a sumptuous entertainment; and, after it, she encouraged the circulation of the horn, not merely by her invitation, but by her example. “All drank manfully,” says the historian, which means deeply enough. But neither the lady nor Harald indulged so much as the rest; and when the latter was laid in the magnificent bed which had been prepared for him, the queen entered his apartment, horn in hand, and challenged him to drink more. At length both were intoxicated, until Harald was overpowered by sleep, when Sigfrida went to her own couch. The next day the entertainment was renewed; but this time both hostess and guest were moderate. Love had entered the heart of Harald, but he durst not declare it; and after some time he took his leave, and returned to Norway. But he could not rest; and when spring came, he revisited the Baltic. Affection had made him 205timid; he durst not, unbidden, go to the house of Sigfrida, and he requested an interview on the sea-coast. She rode to the place, and Harald, dismissing his attendants, mentioned his passion. It found no response in her heart. He had, she observed, a good wife already. The king rejoined, that Asta, his queen, was no fit match for him; that she was much inferior in birth. “That may be true,” replied Sigfrida, who was believed to possess some knowledge of futurity; “but at this very moment she is pregnant of a son, who will be a great honour to you both.” She then departed as she had arrived, on horseback, leaving Harald in much despondency. Unable to desist from his hopeless suit, he again repaired to her palace, and found another royal suitor. As before, the entertainment was good; but, in the ensuing night, both kings were destroyed by their hostess. The fleet returned to Asta without its leader. She immediately repaired to her father’s house in the uplands, and gave birth to a son, whom she named Olaf, destined to become the sainted king of Norway.^[201]

|993 to 995.|

Hako, now the sole ruler of all Norway, was, like many other princes, unable to resist prosperity. The love which his people—at least, the inhabitants of Drontheim—had long borne him, had changed into hatred, by the licentiousness of his conduct in his declining years. The daughters of his noblest chiefs he forcibly brought to his palace, and, after a few days, returned them to their families. Murmurs arose; but they were disregarded by the hoary idolater, who thought his power too well established to be shaken. But he was at length roused from this dream of security, by the report that there was a descendant of fair-haired Harald, unequalled for valour, who probably aspired to the throne of his ancestors. This was Olaf, the son of Trygve, whose adventures are the most romantic in the history of the North.^[202]

|969 to 970.|

On the death of Trygve, Astridda, his widow, who 206was then pregnant, fearing the vengeance of Gunhilda and her sons, fled to an island in the solitary lake of the uplands, where, in 969, she brought forth a son, whom she named Olaf, after his grandfather of that name. There she remained the whole summer, accompanied only by her foster-father, and two or three domestics. But when the days began to shorten, the cold breezes from the lake were too much for Astridda and her child; and, accompanied by the same faithful domestics, she left her island home. To escape observation, she never came within sight of human habitation; and when, after many days, she approached her father’s habitation, she was too cautious to enter. A messenger acquainted him with her arrival; and he met her at a solitary hut in the forest, where every domestic comfort was supplied her. Two maid servants only, with her foster-father, his child, and her infant son, formed her whole establishment. It was fortunate for her that, during this winter, Gunhilda and her sons were too closely occupied by Hako, the jarl, to have leisure for pursuing her. But that ambitious woman had heard of Olaf’s birth; and when spring arrived, she sent her spies to inquire into the truth of the report, and where both mother and child might be found. Their inquiries were successful; and a chief, with thirty horsemen, was despatched to bring the infant to the court of Gunhilda. Eric, however, the father of Astridda, was told their purpose when they were only a few miles distant from the house. It was nightfall; and he led his daughter, with her precious charge and a few domestics, into the forest, where he acquainted her with her danger, with his inability to protect her, and with the necessity of her hastening, in the most secret manner, to the house of an aged friend in Sweden. No sooner had she departed, than he returned to his own house, to await the arrival of the horsemen. Fortunately, both for him and his daughter, they did not immediately call upon him, but passed the night at a neighbouring house. The following morning, when he was asked where his daughter 207and grandson were, he denied that they were with him; and, on their refusing to believe him, he allowed them to search every corner of his habitation. But the leader of the band was at length informed of their route, and, causing his men to mount, he pursued it. Darkness overtaking them, they passed the night with a rich landowner, whom they carelessly asked whether he had seen a woman with a child pass that way. He replied, that a woman and child, in very mean attire, with other persons equally humble, had besought his hospitality, and that he had refused to lodge them,—for, like worthies of recent times, he had a great dislike to beggars,—but he believed they were at some cottage in the neighbourhood. And so they were;—at the cottage of an honest farmer, and less distant than was suspected. But Providence watched over the safety of mother and son. While this conversation was passing, a peasant in the employment of that farmer accidentally called at the rich man’s house, on his return from the forest to his master’s. He heard all that had passed; and, ignorant of Astridda’s arrival, communicated it to his master. The Norwegian, as prudent as he was humane, perceiving that the third part of the night was already past, went to his guests, who were fast asleep, and told them, in an angry voice, to rise and leave his house. They tremblingly obeyed; but no sooner were they beyond the inclosure, than he acquainted them with the cause of his seeming harshness. He sent them to a solitary lake, on which was an island covered with reeds, and bade them remain concealed until they saw him again. As the water of the lake was shallow, they easily waded to the island, and concealed themselves, while Thorsteim (his name shall not be buried in oblivion) returned to his own house. As he had foreseen, on the following morning the chief of the horsemen, after inquiring at many houses, called at his, and inquired after the fugitives. “They have been here,” was the reply; “but, before the break of day, they both left 208me, and went into the wood.” Nor was he unprepared for the next question,—whether he would be their guide in searching for the mother. He readily consented; and, as may easily be conceived, led them in a direction exactly contrary to that which they had pursued. Nor was this all. On the pretext that they should probably be more successful if they separately continued the search, he left them, but only to delude them by new expedients. The day was thus wasted, and the horsemen returned to Gunhilda. That evening Thorsteim went to the island, provided the fugitives with a store of provisions, and, what was much better, with a faithful guide. Astridda pursued her journey, and, without any further interruption, reached the house of Hako the Old, by whom she and her infant were affectionately received, and with whom they remained about three years.^[203]

|964 to 966.|

But the fortunes of Olaf and of his mother were still to be singular. They had not long enjoyed the hospitality of Hako, when Gunhilda sent an embassy to Eric, king of Sweden, to obtain possession of the young prince. Under the specious promise of amply providing for one whose fortunes she pitied, and the fate of whose father she had long bewailed, her messenger easily prevailed on Eric to send an escort to the house of Hako for the prince. But, at the court of Eric, Hako had a son, who was present when the affair was mentioned to the king; and he gave his father timely warning of the Norwegian’s approach. The Swedish noble was therefore prepared for his visitor. After the display of much ceremonious politeness, the ambassador mentioned the anxiety of Gunhilda to educate young Olaf in a manner becoming his birth; and begged that the royal child might be confided to his care,—a request in which the 209Swedish king joined. “Astridda,” replied the wary Hako, “is the mistress of her own actions, and if she consents to thy proposal, I can have no objection to it.” On the refusal of Astridda, the disappointed ambassador returned to Eric’s court, and obtained a stronger force, with the intention of removing the child by violence, should entreaties be unavailing. As before, Hako was prepared, and he was less complaisant than on the former occasion. “Astridda,” was the substance of his reply to the renewed proposal, “has no great reason to confide in the promises of Gunhilda; she knows her wiles, her deceit; she is still averse from thy proposal; and the boy cannot go without the mother’s consent, nor shall I allow her inclination to be forced, so long as she continues under my protection.” High words arose; the ambassador threatened to employ force; Hako replied, that men more powerful than he would fail in such an attempt. The dispute reached the ears of a cowherd of Hako’s—a huge herculean man—who, seizing a pitchfork, hastened to the scene, and said, “Is it thou who darest to insult my princely master in his own house? Choose one of these two things,—either speedily retire from this neighbourhood, or prepare for thy death by this pitchfork, which will be equally fatal to thy companions!” The ambassador and his suite hastily retreated, and on their return to Norway acquainted the disappointed Gunhilda with the ill success of his journey.^[204]

|976 to 984.|

Whether through fear lest king Eric should, in the end, force her son from her, or through the desire of seeing her brother Sigurd, who was then in high favour with Waldemar, a king of Gardarik^[205], Astridda left the hospitable roof of Hako. By him she was confided to the care of some merchants who traded with Gardarik, and supplied with everything necessary for her voyage. In the Gulf of Finland they were taken by Esthonian 210pirates, separated, and sold. Olaf, Thorolf, and the son of Thorolf, became the property of one who, seeing the old man past service, put him to death; the two boys were afterwards sold to different masters, and Astridda sent nobody knew where. Subsequently, the same master purchased Thorgils, the foster-brother of Olaf, and employed him in the meanest drudgery. But the prince was not thus treated; he was soon beloved by the old pagan, and beheld in the light of a son. It happened, one day, that Sigurd, the uncle of Olaf, came to the master’s house, and saw the boy, then about ten years old, playing with others of his age. He saluted Sigurd; the latter returned the courtesy, and was immediately struck with the foreign countenance of the boy. In answer to his questions, the boy told him his name, and the names of his parents. Sigurd at once recognised his nephew, whom he redeemed; but the boy would not go with him unless he was accompanied by Thorgils, who was redeemed at a lower price. To the honour of the pagan master of Olaf, it must be added, that he would not have sold the boy, unless Sigurd had given a pledge that he should never be resold, and that he should be treated as well as he had been under his own roof. Both children were taken to the court of Sigurd’s master, who reigned in the vicinity of Novgorod. The attachment which Olaf bore to his friends was equalled by his hatred to his enemies, and to the enemies of his friends. One day, as he stood in the public market, he perceived the merchant who had killed Thorolf: approaching with much deliberation, he drew his little sword, inflicted a mortal wound in the head of the merchant, and immediately ran to acquaint his uncle with the deed which he had performed. Apprehensive of the consequences, Sigurd led his nephew into the presence of the queen, and besought her protection; and through her influence, a pecuniary compensation was received by the relations of the deceased. He soon became a favourite at court; the king, learning his royal birth, placed him among his 211nobles; and nine years passed away with rapidity. Every accomplishment becoming his descent and his future prospects was acquired by him. Among these was piracy, to which, from his twelfth year, he was habituated. In it he acquired considerable reputation during the following years; and was most useful to the king by destroying other piratical vessels which disturbed the peace of Gardarik, and by the rich treasures which he brought from his frequent expeditions. But his favour with the king had the ordinary effect,—it created rivals and enemies; and he left the court to do what so many of his ancestors had done before him,—to pursue his fortunes on the deep.^[206]

|985 to 994.|

On the shores of the Baltic the young chief obtained much celebrity, alike for his valour and success. He was consequently joined by many piratical vassals, until he had a considerable fleet under his command. Towards the close, he caused his vessels to anchor in a bay on the coast of Pomerania, which was then governed by a princess, the daughter of duke Borislaf, whose husband was lately deceased. The fame of his exploits, of his accomplishments, of his personal comeliness, reached her ears, and through her minister she sent him an invitation to pass the winter in her capital. It was readily accepted; and the natural consequence followed,—her marriage with the pirate chief. Invested by this union with the military government of the state, Olaf defended the rights of his consort much more eagerly than those of her subjects. Some territories and fortresses which had been dismembered from the duchy, he restored to it. But in one of these warlike expeditions, he was nearly a victim to the bad faith of the barbarians. Leading his troops against a fortified town which had thrown off its allegiance to the princess, he pressed the inhabitants so closely that they offered to submit to his discretion, and opened their gates to receive them. No sooner, however, had a few of his 212men entered with him, than the ponderous barricades were closed, and he was assailed by a multitude. But a sea king never lost his presence of mind. Commanding his followers to imitate his example, he repaired to the walls, fighting as he retreated; and on reaching them, he leaped to the ground outside the fortifications. The place was now assailed with the vigour which exasperation always gives; it was soon carried by storm; the garrison were put to the sword, and the walls levelled with the earth.—But this humble sphere was too narrow for his ambition, which the events then passing in Norway served to inflame. In about a year after his marriage, he sailed with a small number of vessels to the coast of Sweden, ravaged Scania and Gothland, took one or two prizes, assisted the emperor Otho in the invasion of Denmark, and in the victory which the temporal head of Christendom obtained over the pagan Dane, and was present at the deliberations which preceded the restoration of peace.^[207] That he was half a Christian—at least in disposition—is evident from the relation of his biographer; but where he had acquired the little knowledge he possessed of Christianity is not so clear. His biographer affirms that he had often heard of the Christian doctrines,—which may be true enough; but we cannot subscribe to the next assertion, that one reason of his esteem for the new faith was, a miracle which he had seen archbishop Poppo work in presence of Otho and Harald of Denmark. However this be, he had a great aversion to idolatry; and, even at the court of the pagan king in Gardarik, he had always refused to sacrifice to the gods. In the army of Otho he met with his father-in-law, duke Borislaf; and after the successful termination of the war, he returned into Pomerania. But his restless disposition would not long permit him to remain with his bride; and he led another expedition to various shores of the Baltic. After the death of his consort, which happened in three years after his marriage, he 213would no longer remain in Pomerania. Probably the event disposed him to humility, to reflection. However this be, he was now better instructed in the principles of Christianity,—whether in Greece, as his biographer assures us, or in some Slavonian province where Greek missionaries were labouring, is of little moment. But the baptismal rite was not administered to him for some years afterwards,—until he visited a hermit in the west. He is said to have been instrumental in the conversion, also, of his master, the king of Holmgard, and of the queen. Whatever his zeal might be at this period of life, at a subsequent one, as we shall soon perceive, it was great enough. But his religion was, like that of the period, a strange one: it did not deter him from ravaging the coasts of Christian countries, from burning the huts of the poor, and sacrificing the inmates. Years after his pretended change of belief, he was occupied in this dreadful profession, from the coasts of Russia to those of Brittany and Ireland. In Ireland or in England,—probably in the latter,—he is said to have married an Irish princess, named Gyda; but before the ceremony could take place, he was compelled to fight with a rival, whom he soon vanquished. After this event, he was sometimes in England, sometimes in Ireland, but every where his fame as a warrior extended. The sea kings of this period were accustomed to fight as much for others as for themselves, by hiring their services to any native prince who had need of them; nor did it unfrequently happen that the northmen were, at the same time, in opposite ranks. For such services the wages were always abundant; sometimes in land, more frequently in gold and rich merchandise. Nor must we forget that, when on the coast of a friendly power, the pirates exercised the profession of merchants, and traded from one port or one kingdom to another, with more regularity than we generally suppose. But this pursuit was much too quiet for the sea king, and he followed it from necessity only: his delight was in scenes of excitement—in 214those of danger and carnage. Whether in peace or war, no scruple was felt in stealing cattle from any coast. While in Ireland, an adventure befell Olaf which illustrates both this statement and his own character. He and his men had disembarked on a certain part of the coast, seized a multitude of cattle, and were driving them towards their ships, when a poor farmer ran after them, and begged the chief to restore the animals which had been stolen from him. “Thou mayst have them,” replied Olaf, “if, without impeding our march, thou canst distinguish them from such a multitude.” The man had a dog, which singled out the animals, one by one, to the great amazement of the chief. “Wilt thou part with this dog?” demanded Olaf. “Readily!” was the answer; and Olaf, not satisfied with restoring the man’s cattle, made him some valuable presents.^[208]

|967 to 993.|

In all his voyages, Olaf never despaired of being one day able to procure the rights of his birth in Norway, and his eyes were frequently turned to that country. Nor was he without anxiety as to the fate of his mother, of whom he had heard nothing since the day on which, while yet an infant, he had been separated from her. Her adventures may, for a moment, occupy the reader’s attention. After remaining a slave for some time, she was seen in Pomerania by a Norwegian pirate of noble birth: at first he did not recognise her; where health and cheerfulness and beauty had once been, he observed paleness and melancholy; but there was, alike in her appearance and manner, something that inspired him with respect. A closer examination convinced him that he saw Astridda, the queen of Trygve, before him; he entered into conversation with her, and learned that she was now on sale. She besought him to ransom her, and return her to her friends; and he promised to do so on one condition,—that she would become his bride. Her situation was not one that admitted of either scruple 215or hesitation; she became his wife, and the mother of several children. Year after year rolled away, and the mother heard not of the son, or the son of the mother. The fame of his exploits, indeed, had reached Norway; but he had assumed another name,—that of Olo, a native of Gardarik, and by it he was known to all the princes of his time, from the imperial Otho to the humblest piratical chief. But Hako, the usurper of Norway, knew the truth; and as his favour with the people, from his new vices, was now departing^[209], he began to look with much anxiety towards Ireland, where Olaf had for some time been. To remove this aspiring rival was necessary to his safety; and he immediately devised the means of carrying his design into execution.^[210]

|995 to 996.|

Intimately connected with Hako was a piratical chief, Thorer by name, a man of enterprise, who had acquired reputation on the deep, and who would not hesitate to execute any commission with which he might be entrusted. This man was the fittest instrument for alluring Olaf into the power of Hako. By open force, no chief could hope to succeed; for Olaf was followed by some of the most noted heroes of his time, and was at the head of some ships. He must therefore, if possible, be brought to Norway; or, as a last resource, assassinated. As the deceitful representations which Thorer was enjoined to make might not have their due effect on Olaf, two of his kinsmen, whom he had never seen—the brothers of his mother—were to be associated with him, and, if need were, to confirm his statement.^[211] They revolted, we are told, at this meditated treachery, and refused to share in it until menaced with the loss of their own lives. However this be, Thorer hastened to Dublin to put his design into execution. To lull suspicion, he was provided with abundant merchandise, which he was to barter in Dublin, 216a port then flourishing for its commerce. He had little difficulty in discovering the abode of Olo of Gardarik, the only name by which Olaf was known. By degrees, he cultivated the acquaintance of Olaf; and, as he was a man of great observation, eloquent, and specious, he was a welcome visitor. As usual, Olaf, without naming himself, inquired after his family connections;—how many were living, what their condition in life, what their influence with the public. When satisfied on these points, he inquired into the character, the power, the reputation of Hako. “The jarl,” replied Thorer, “is a great prince, absolute in everything, and no man dare contradict him; but, if I must speak confidentially, he is tolerated only because of old Harold’s race no scion remains whom the people might choose in lieu of him. Many are the nobles, the chiefs, the warriors, the people, who would rush to the standard of such a rival, if one were to appear in Norway. But why talk thus vainly? no prince of that house survives.” Such was the manner in which Thorer fulfilled his commission; and we cannot be surprised that, after a few interviews, Olaf opened his heart to the traitor. He was not, by birth, Olo of Gardarik,—he was Olaf, the son of king Trygve; and might he, indeed, hope that the Norwegians would accept him, in preference to Hako? Thorer solemnly affirmed that, if he but showed himself to the people, the reign of Hako would be at an end. He did more; he professed the warmest interest in the fate of his new friend, whom he exhorted to sail, without delay, to his native country. With five ships only—for why engage many where none would be needed—the prince, accompanied by Thorer, left Dublin, passed the Hebrides, and at length reached the Orkneys. The jarl of these islands was Sigurd, who welcomed the strangers: but in Olaf he found a master. The prince, already assuming the rights of sovereignty, commanded the jarl to receive baptism, and, on his hesitation, threatened him with death if he refused. The choice was not difficult, and the Christian church had 217one hypocrite more. Homage, too, was done to the new king; and, as a pledge of fidelity, Whelp, the son of Sigurd, accompanied Olaf to Norway.^[212]

|995 to 996.|

When Olaf reached the coast of Agder, he learned that the inhabitants of Drontheim were conspiring against the authority of Hako. This news was a thunderbolt to Thorer, who, from the gratitude which the Norwegians had evinced towards the jarl, for his recent victory over the Jomsberg pirates, had regarded his dynasty as secure. The present discontent, however, might pass away; and he determined to assassinate Olaf: but the men whom he had hired for that purpose betrayed him to the prince, and he fell the victim of his own wiles. Olaf, whose name had not yet been mentioned to the people, now hastened towards Drontheim, where every moment added to the critical situation of his enemy. Nothing can so well describe the character of Hako as his conduct just before and at this period. Though he knew that the inhabitants of that province were only waiting for an opportunity of banishing or destroying him, he persevered in his lustful course. Wives, daughters, sisters, widows, virgins,—all on whom he cast his eyes, were, however nobly allied, forcibly taken to his residence. But the following incident had happened before the arrival of Olaf:—Brinjolf, a noble of Ganlardal, had a beautiful and accomplished wife; one night, while both were in bed, the myrmidons of Hako arrived at his villa, and unceremoniously informed him that his wife was wanted by the jarl, and that she must accompany them. On his indignant refusal to suffer her departure, they returned for more assistants, and bore her away to the palace of Hako. The following day Brinjolf put on his armour, rode into the neighbouring country, assembled his connections and friends, laid before them the indignity which he had received, and prevailed on them to unite in his cause. They did not, however, break 218out into open insurrection, but they entered into a conspiracy to assist one another when the convenient moment should arrive. This event was no warning to Hako. Soon afterwards, smitten with the charms of a married lady, Godruna, who from her beauty was surnamed the “Sun of Lunden,” he sent his emissaries to her husband’s house to bring her to him. Under the pretext of inviting them to supper, Orm, the husband, detained them until his servants had collected a force sufficient to set them at defiance. The lady herself then told the messengers, in a tone of insult, that she should not accompany them unless Thora, the favourite mistress of the jarl, sent for her. Threatening vengeance on the whole family, the men departed; and Orm lost no time in sending out the arrow, the symbol of war, to his kinsmen and dependents.^[213] The well-known token was rapidly conveyed; the gathering commenced; and in a short time a formidable band was assembled, eager to destroy the tyrannical jarl.^[214]