By the early light of a bright summer morning, long, long ago, two small
boats were seen to issue from one of the fiords or firths on the west
coast of Norway, and row towards the skerries or low rocky islets that
lay about a mile distant from the mainland.
Although the morning was young, the sun was already high in the heavens,
and brought out in glowing colours the varied characteristics of a
mountain scene of unrivalled grandeur.
The two shallops moved swiftly towards the islands, their oars shivering
the liquid mirror of the sea, and producing almost the only sound that
disturbed the universal stillness, for at that early hour Nature herself
seemed buried in deep repose. A silvery mist hung over the water,
through which the innumerable rocks and islands assumed fantastic
shapes, and the more distant among them appeared as though they floated
in air. A few seagulls rose startled from their nests, and sailed
upwards with plaintive cries, as the keels of the boats grated on the
rocks, and the men stepped out and hauled them up on the beach of one of
the islets.
A wild uncouth crew were those Norsemen of old! All were armed, for in
their days the power and the means of self-defence were absolutely
necessary to self-preservation.
Most of them wore portions of scale armour, or shirts of ring mail, and
headpieces of steel, though a few among them appeared to have confidence
in the protection afforded by the thick hide of the wolf, which,
converted into rude, yet not ungraceful, garments, covered their broad
shoulders. All, without exception, carried sword or battle-axe and
shield. They were goodly stalwart men every one, but silent and stern.
It might have been observed that the two boats, although bound for the
same islet, did not row in company. They were beached as far from each
other as the little bay into which they ran would admit of, and the
crews stood aloof in two distinct groups.
In the centre of each group stood a man who, from his aspect and
bearing, appeared to be superior to his fellows. One was in the prime
of life, dark and grave; the other in the first flush of manhood, full
grown, though beardless, fair, and ruddy. Both were taller and stouter
than their comrades.
The two men had met there to fight, and the cause of their feud was--
Love!
Both loved a fair Norse maiden in Horlingdal. The father of the maid
favoured the elder warrior; the maid herself preferred the younger.
In those days, barbarous though they undoubtedly were, law and justice
were more respected and more frequently appealed to in Norway than in
almost any other country. Liberty, crushed elsewhere under the
deadweight of feudalism, found a home in the bleak North, and a rough
but loving welcome from the piratical, sea-roving! She did not, indeed,
dwell altogether scathless among her demi-savage guardians, who, if
their perceptions of right and wrong were somewhat confused, might have
urged in excuse that their light was small. She received many shocks
and frequent insults from individuals, but liberty was sincerely loved
and fondly cherished by the body of the Norwegian people, through all
the period of those dark ages during which other nations scarce dared to
mention her name.
Nevertheless, it was sometimes deemed more convenient to settle disputes
by the summary method of an appeal to arms than to await the issue of a
tedious and uncertain lawsuit such an appeal being perfectly competent
to those who preferred it, and the belief being strong among the fiery
spirits of the age that Odin, the god of war, would assuredly give
victory to the right.
In the present instance it was not considered any infringement of the
law of liberty that the issue of the combat would be the disposal of a
fair woman's hand, with or without her heart. Then, as now, women were
often forced to marry against their will.
Having gone to that island to fight--an island being a naturally
circumscribed battlefield whose limits could not conveniently be
transgressed--the two champions set to work at once with the cool
businesslike promptitude of men sprung from a warlike race, and nurtured
from their birth in the midst of war's alarms.
Together, and without speaking, they ascended the rock, which was low
and almost barren, with a small extent of turf in the centre, level, and
admirably suited to their purpose. Here they faced each other; the one
drew his sword, the other raised his battle-axe.
There was no sentiment in that combat. The times and the men were
extremely matter-of-fact. The act of slaying gracefully had not yet
been acquired; yet there was much of manly grace displayed as each threw
himself into the position that nature and experience had taught him was
best suited to the wielding of his peculiar weapon.
For one instant each gazed intently into the face of the other, as if to
read there his premeditated plan of attack. At that moment the clear
blue eye of the younger man dilated, and, as his courage rose, the
colour mounted to his cheek. The swart brow of the other darkened as he
marked the change; then, with sudden spring and shout, the two fell upon
each other and dealt their blows with incredible vigour and rapidity.
They were a well-matched pair. For nearly two hours did they toil and
moil over the narrow limits of that sea-girt rock--yet victory leaned to
neither side. Now the furious blows rained incessant on the sounding
shields; anon the din of strife ceased, while the combatants moved round
each other, shifting their position with elastic step, as, with wary
motion and eagle glances, each sought to catch the other off his guard,
and the clash of steel, as the weapons met in sudden onset, was mingled
with the shout of anger or defiance. The sun glanced on whirling blade
and axe, and sparkled on their coats of mail as if the lightning flash
were playing round them; while screaming seamews flew and circled
overhead, as though they regarded with intelligent interest and terror
the mortal strife that was going on below.
Blood ere long began to flow freely on both sides; the vigour of the
blows began to abate, the steps to falter. The youthful cheek grew
pale; the dark warrior's brow grew darker, while heaving chests,
labouring breath, and an occasional gasp, betokened the approaching
termination of the struggle. Suddenly the youth, as if under the
influence of a new impulse, dropped his shield, sprang forward, raised
himself to his full height, grasped his axe with both hands, and,
throwing it aloft (thus recklessly exposing his person), brought it down
with terrific violence on the shield of his adversary.
The action was so sudden that the other, already much exhausted, was for
the moment paralysed, and failed to take advantage of his opportunity.
He met but failed to arrest the blow with his shield. It was crushed
down upon his head, and in another moment the swarthy warrior lay
stretched upon the turf.
Sternly the men conveyed their fallen chief to his boat, and rowed him
to the mainland, and many a week passed by ere he recovered from the
effects of the blow that felled him. His conqueror returned to have his
wounds dressed by the bride for whom he had fought so long and so
valiantly on that bright summer morning.
Thus it was that King Haldor of Horlingdal, surnamed the Fierce,
conquered King Ulf of Romsdal, acquired his distinctive appellation, and
won Herfrida the Soft-eyed for his bride.
It must not be supposed that these warriors were kings in the ordinary
acceptation of that term. They belonged to the class of "small" or
petty kings, of whom there were great numbers in Norway in those days,
and were merely rich and powerful free-landholders or udallers.
Haldor the Fierce had a large family of sons and daughters. They were
all fair, strong, and extremely handsome, like himself.
Ulf of Romsdal did not die of his wounds, neither did he die of love.
Disappointed love was then, as now, a terrible disease, but not
necessarily fatal. Northmen were very sturdy in the olden time. They
almost always recovered from that disease sooner or later. When his
wounds were healed, Ulf married a fair girl of the Horlingdal district,
and went to reside there, but his change of abode did not alter his
title. He was always spoken of as Ulf of Romsdal. He and his old enemy
Haldor the Fierce speedily became fast friends; and so was it with their
wives, Astrid and Herfrida, who also took mightily to each other. They
span, and carded wool, and sewed together oftentimes, and discussed the
affairs of Horlingdal, no doubt with mutual advantage and satisfaction.
Twenty years passed away, and Haldor's eldest son, Erling, grew to be a
man. He was very like his father--almost a giant in size; fair, very
strong, and remarkably handsome. His silken yellow hair fell in heavy
curls on a pair of the broadest shoulders in the dale. Although so
young, he already had a thick short beard, which was very soft and
curly. His limbs were massive, but they were so well proportioned, and
his movements so lithe, that his great size and strength were not fully
appreciated until one stood close by his side or fell into his powerful
grasp.
Erling was lion-like, yet he was by nature gentle and retiring. He had
a kindly smile, a hearty laugh, and bright blue eyes. Had he lived in
modern days he would undoubtedly have been a man of peace. But he lived
"long long ago"--therefore he was a man of war. Being unusually
fearless, his companions of the valley called him Erling the Bold. He
was, moreover, extremely fond of the sea, and often went on viking
cruises in his own ships, whence he was also styled Erling the Sea-king,
although he did not at that time possess a foot of land over which to
exercise kingly authority.
Now, it must be explained here that the words Sea-king and Viking do not
denote the same thing. One is apt to be misled by the termination of
the latter word, which has no reference whatever to the royal title
king. A viking was merely a piratical rover on the sea, the sea-warrior
of the period, but a Sea-king was a leader and commander of vikings.
Every Sea-king was a viking, but every viking was not a Sea-king; just
as every Admiral is a sailor, but every sailor is not an Admiral. When
it is said that Erling was a Sea-king, it is much as if we had said he
was an admiral in a small way.