The Saga of Ragnar Lodbrog, or “Hairy-breeks”
According to the Danish and Norse accounts, the leader of the armies
of the Northmen on the occasion we have just referred to was the
famous Ragnar Lodbrog, one of the earliest and most terrible of the
Northern vikings. The story of Ragnar stands just on the borderland
between mythology and history, and it is difficult to tell how much
of it is true, but in some of its main outlines it accords with the
rather scanty information we get at this time from the English annals.
An old tradition relates how Ragnar got his title of Lodbrog, or
“Hairy-breeks.”
It is said that the King of the Swedes, who was fond of hunting in the
woods, brought home some snakes and gave them to his daughter to rear.
Of these curious pets she took such good care that they multiplied
until the whole countryside was tormented with them. Then the King,
repenting his foolish act, proclaimed that whosoever should destroy the
vipers should have his daughter as his reward. Many warriors, attracted
by the adventure, made an attempt to rid the country of the snakes,
but without much success. Ragnar also determined to try to win the
princess. He caused a dress to be made of woolly material and stuffed
with hair to protect him, and put on thick hairy thigh-pieces that the
snakes could not bite. Then he plunged his whole body, clad in this
covering, into freezing water, so that it froze on him, and became hard
and impenetrable. Thus attired, he approached the door of the palace
alone, his sword tied to his side and his spear lashed in his hand.
As he went forward an enormous snake glided up in front, and others,
equally large, attacked him in the rear. The King and his courtiers,
who were looking on, fled to a safe shelter, watching the struggle from
afar like affrighted little girls. But Ragnar, trusting to the hardness
of his frozen dress, attacked the vipers boldly, and drove them back,
killing many of them with his spear.
Then the King came forward and looked closely at the dress which had
withstood the venom of the serpents. He saw that it was rough and
hairy, and he laughed loudly at the shaggy breeches, which gave Ragnar
an uncouth appearance. He called him in jest Lodbrog (Lod-brokr), or
“Hairy-breeks,” and the nickname stuck to him all his life. Having laid
aside his shaggy raiment and put on his kingly attire, Ragnar received
the maiden as the reward of his victory. He had several sons, of whom
the youngest, Ivar, was well known in after years in Britain and
Ireland, and left a race of rulers there.
[Illustration: _Ladgerda_]
Meanwhile the ill-disposed people of his own kingdom, which seems
to have included the districts we now know as Zealand or Jutland,
one of those small divisions into which the Northern countries were
at that time broken up,[3] during the absence of Ragnar stirred up
the inhabitants to depose him and set up one Harald as king. Ragnar,
hearing of this, and having few men at his command, sent envoys to
Norway to ask for assistance. They gathered a small host together,
of weak and strong, young and old, whomsoever they could get, and had a
hard fight with the rebels. It is said that Ivar, though he was hardly
seven years of age, fought splendidly, and seemed a man in courage
though only a boy in years. Siward, or Sigurd Snake-eye, Ragnar’s
eldest son, received a terrible wound, which it is said that Woden,
the father of the gods of the North, came himself to cure. The battle
would have gone against Ragnar but for the courage of a noble woman
named Ladgerda, who, “like an Amazon possessed of the courage of a
man,” came to the hero’s assistance with a hundred and twenty ships and
herself fought in front of the host with her loose hair flying about
her shoulders. All marvelled at her matchless deeds, for she had the
spirit of a warrior in a slender frame, and when the soldiers began to
waver she made a sally, taking the enemy unawares on the rear, so that
Harald was routed with a great slaughter of his men. This was by no
means the only occasion in the history of these times that we hear of
women-warriors; both in the North and in Ireland women often went into
battle, sometimes forming whole female battalions. The women of the
North were brave, pure, and spirited, though often fierce and bitter.
They took their part in many ways beside their husbands and sons.
About this time Thora, Ragnar’s wife, died suddenly of an illness,
which caused infinite sorrow to her husband, who dearly loved his
spouse. He thought to assuage his grief by setting himself some heavy
task, which would occupy his mind and energies. After arranging for the
administration of justice at home, and training for war all the young
men, feeble or strong, who came to him, he determined to cross over to
Britain, since he had heard of the dissensions that were going on, and
the weakness of the country. This was before the time of Ælla, when,
as the Danish annals tell us, his father, Hame, “a most noble youth,”
was reigning in Northumbria. This king, Ragnar attacked and killed, and
then, leaving his young and favourite son to rule the Danish settlers
of Northumbria, he went north to Scotland, conquered parts of Pictland,
or the North of Scotland, and of the Western Isles, where he made two
others of his sons, Siward Snake-eye and Radbard, governors.
Having thus formed for himself a kingdom in the British Isles, and
left his sons to rule over it, Ragnar departed for a time, and the
next few years were spent in repressing insurrections in his own
kingdom of Jutland, and in a long series of viking raids in Sweden,
Saxony, Germany, and France. His own sons were continually making
insurrections against him. Ivar only, who seems to have been recalled
and made governor of Jutland, took no part in his brothers’ quarrels,
but remained throughout faithful to his father, by whom he was held in
the highest honour and affection. Another son, Ubba, of whom we hear in
the English chronicles, alternately rebelled against his father and was
received into favour by him. Then, again, Ragnar turned his thoughts to
the West, and, descending on the Orkneys, ravaged there, planting some
of those viking settlements of which we hear at the opening of Scottish
history as being established on the coasts and islands. But two of his
sons were slain, and Ragnar returned home in grief, shutting himself
up in his house and bemoaning their loss, and that of a wife whom he
had recently married. He was soon awakened from his sorrow by the news
that Ivar, whom he had left in Northumbria, had been expelled from the
country, and had arrived in Denmark, his own people having made him fly
when Ælla was set up as king.[4] Ragnar immediately roused himself from
his dejection, gave orders for the assembling of his fleet, and sailed
down on Northumbria, disembarking near York. He took Ivar with him
to guide his forces, as he was now well acquainted with the country.
Here, as we learn from the English chronicles, the battle of York was
fought, lasting three days, and costing much blood to the English, but
comparatively little to the Danes. The only real difference between
the Danish and English accounts is that the Northern story says that
Ælla was not killed, but had to fly for a time to Ireland, and it is
probable that this is true. Ragnar also extended his arms to Ireland,
after a year in Northumbria, besieged Dublin, and slew its king,
Maelbride (or Melbrik, as the Norse called him), and then, filling his
ships with the wealth of the city, which was very rich, he sailed to
the Hellespont, winning victories everywhere, and gaining for himself
the title of the first of the great viking kings.
But it was fated to Ragnar that he was to die in the country he had
conquered, and when he returned to Northumbria from his foreign
expeditions he was taken prisoner by Ælla, and cast into a pit, where
serpents were let loose upon him and devoured him. No word of complaint
came from the lips of the courageous old man while he was suffering
these tortures; instead, he recounted in fine verse the triumphs of his
life and the dangers of his career. This poem we still possess. Only
when the serpents were gnawing at his heart he was heard to exclaim:
“If the little pigs knew the punishment of the old boar, surely they
would break into the sty and loose him from his woe.” These words were
related to Ælla, who thought from them that some of Ragnar’s sons,
whom he called the “little pigs,” must still be alive: and he bade the
executioners stop the torture and bring Ragnar out of the pit. But when
they ran to do so they found that Ragnar was dead; his face scarred by
pain, but steadfast as in life. Death had taken him out of the hand of
the king.
In Ragnar Lodbrog’s death-song he recites in succession his triumphs
and gallant deeds, his wars and battles, in England, Scotland, Mona,
the Isle of Man, Ireland, and abroad. Each stanza begins, “We hewed
with our swords!” Here are the final verses, as the serpents, winding
around him, came ever nearer to his heart.
RAGNAR LODBROG’S DEATH-SONG
We hewed with our swords!
Life proves that we must dree our weird. Few can escape the binding
bonds of fate. Little dreamed I that e’er my days by Ælla would
be ended! what time I filled the blood hawks with his slain, what
time I led my ships into his havens, what time we gorged the
beasts of prey along the Scottish bays.
We hewed with our swords!
There is a never-failing consolation for my spirit: the board of
Balder’s sire [Woden] stands open to the brave! Soon from the
crooked skull-boughs[5] in the splendid house of Woden we shall
quaff the amber mead! Death blanches not the brave man’s face.
I’ll not approach the courts of Vitris[6] with the faltering
voice of fear!
We hewed with our swords!
Soon would the sons of Aslaug[7] come armed with their flaming brands
to wake revenge, did they but know of our mischance; even that a
swarm of vipers, big with venom, sting my aged body. I sought a
noble mother for my children, one who might impart adventurous
hearts to our posterity.
We hewed with our swords!
Now is my life nigh done. Grim are the terrors of the adder; serpents
nestle within my heart’s recesses.
Yet it is the cordial of my soul that Woden’s wand[8] shall soon
stick fast in Ælla! My sons will swell with vengeance at their
parent’s doom; those generous youths will fling away the sweets
of peace and come to avenge my loss.
We hewed with our swords!
Full fifty times have I, the harbinger of war, fought bloody fights;
no king, methought, should ever pass me by. It was the pastime
of my boyish days to tinge my spear with blood! The immortal
Anses[9] will call me to their company; no dread shall e’er
disgrace my death.
I willingly depart!
See, the bright maids sent from the hall of Woden, Lord of Hosts,
invite me home! There, happy on my high raised seat among the
Anses, I’ll quaff the mellow ale. The moments of my life are
fled, but laughing will I die!