EYSTEIN (1103-1122), SIGURD THE CRUSADER (1103-1130), AND OLAF MAGNUSSON
(1103-1115).
In accordance with established custom, the three sons of Magnus Barefoot
were proclaimed kings, and the land was divided between them. There is,
however, a probability that this division pertained chiefly to the royal
estates, from which the kings derived their principal revenue, but did
not involve a division of the country itself into separate kingdoms.
Eystein was at the time of his proclamation fourteen years old, Sigurd
thirteen, and Olaf three or four. They were all illegitimate, but had
been acknowledged by their father. There was, at that time, a great
agitation throughout Europe on account of the crusades. Kings, knights,
and even children, in their anxiety to save their souls, threw reason to
the winds, and, relying upon supernatural aid, started with insufficient
preparations on adventurous undertakings. This grand religious
enthusiasm did not reach the North until its force was partly spent.
Some of the men who had visited Jerusalem returned home, but apparently
were but little affected by religious phases of the war against the
unbelievers. They talked rather of the chances for worldly fame and
gain which the crusade presented, and aroused a desire in many of their
countrymen to win both heavenly and earthly glory by an expedition to
the Holy Land. It was the general desire that one of the princes should
command the expedition, and Sigurd, who had inherited his father's
spirit, willingly consented. In order to fit himself out properly he
needed money, and this he could not get without the good-will of the
people. He had the wisdom to see, that the success of his enterprise
could be better advanced by concession than by extortion, and he
therefore abolished, once for all, the oppressive laws of Sweyn
Alfifasson, and gained thereby a great popularity. Eystein assisted his
brother energetically in his equipments, and, in the autumn of 1107,
Sigurd sailed away with a fleet of sixty large ships and ten thousand
men. He paid first a friendly visit to England, where he was received
with great distinction by King Henry I. Thence he steered his course to
Spain, where he had many adventures, fought against the Moors, and
destroyed a pirate's nest on the island Formentera. In Italy he was
magnificently received by Robert Guiscard's son, Duke Roger, who was
proud of his Norse descent, and greeted the king of Norway as he would a
kinsman. He even (if the saga account is to be trusted) acknowledged
Sigurd as his overlord, and consented to receive the royal title from
his hands. Duke Roger died, however, soon after and had no opportunity
to assert his new dignity. It was not until August, 1110, that Sigurd
reached the Holy Land. He landed at Joppa, where he was met by King
Baldwin, who accompanied him to Jerusalem, and showed him the holy
sepulchre and all the places that are associated with the Saviour's life
and death. The Patriarch of Jerusalem presented Sigurd with a splint of
the true cross to be preserved at St. Olaf's shrine, on condition that
the king, on his return, should impose tithes for the support of the
church. Before starting on his homeward way, Sigurd assisted Baldwin and
Count Bertrand of Tripolis, at the sieges of Sidon and Akron, and
received his share of the booty. He then betook himself to
Constantinople, where games were celebrated in his honor by the Emperor
Alexius, and a lavish magnificence was displayed in his entertainment,
the like of which the Norsemen had never beheld. Sigurd forbade them,
however, to show surprise at any thing they saw, lest the Greeks should
conclude that they were barbarians, unaccustomed to luxury. In July,
1111, the king returned to Norway after an absence of three years and a
half. He received henceforth the surname the Crusader (Jorsalfar).
The thirst for glory which animated Sigurd was in striking contrast to
the peaceful spirit which dwelt in his brother, Eystein. Upon the former
had descended the restless ambition of Magnus Barefoot, while the latter
had inherited his grandfather Olaf the Quiet's taste for building and
calm delight in well-doing. While Sigurd scoured sea and land in search
of fame, Eystein sat quietly at home, building churches, encouraging
trade and industry, and improving the laws. By sheer dint of persuasion,
gifts, and appeals to their self-interest, he gained the allegiance of
the inhabitants of the Swedish province, Jemteland, which in the reign
of Haakon the Good had belonged to Norway. Knowing the importance of the
fisheries, as a source of national wealth, he had booths erected in
Vaagen for the accommodation of the fishermen, and a church and
parsonage for their spiritual welfare. At Agdeness, where many ships
were wrecked, he made an artificial harbor by the construction of a
mole. As a guide to sailors along the dangerous coast, he put up
sea-marks and primitive light-houses, in the shape of fires which were
lighted, after dark, on certain rocks and promontories. For the shelter
of pilgrims to St. Olaf's shrine and other travellers, he built taverns
on the Dovre Mountain, the passage of which had hitherto been perilous,
on account of the snow and the absence of roads. Among the many churches
which were erected by him were the Church of the Apostles, and St.
Michael's in Bergen, St. Nicholas in Nidaros, and the rich Benedictine
Monastery, Munkeliv.
With all their devotion to war and tendency to violence, the Norsemen
could not help loving this wise and peaceful king, whose constant care
was their welfare. That their old bellicose ideals were being superseded
by gentler and nobler ones is indicated by their devotion for their two
unwarlike kings, Olaf the Quiet and Eystein Magnusson. Of these two
Eystein was, in point of intellect and strength of character, the more
eminent. He seems to have pursued his policy of construction, instead of
destruction, not merely from temperamental bias, but from clear-sighted
conviction. His fondness for the study of law and the importance he
attached to legal knowledge are, in this respect, significant. The sound
sense and moderation which distinguished his grandfather he also
possessed in a marked degree, besides the same gentleness and charm of
manner. In appearance he was like most of his race, large and handsome;
he had blue eyes, blonde, curly hair, and a dignified presence.
It was scarcely to be expected that two brothers, so antagonistic in
disposition as Sigurd and Eystein, could avoid clashing. Sigurd felt
himself as a man of the world, who had cut a brilliant figure in foreign
lands, and he looked upon Eystein as a stay-at-home, who could boast of
no such experience. He scarcely appreciated the fact that his brother,
though he might have put obstacles in his path, received him heartily,
on his return, and willingly shared his authority with him. It was
incomprehensible to him that a quiet man like Eystein, who had no great
deeds to boast of, should enjoy as much consideration and respect as
himself. Above all, it was Eystein's insistence upon legal methods, in
all relations between subject and king, which seemed to Sigurd an
interference with his authority, and, therefore, irritated him. A
serious disagreement soon arose from this source. Once, when Sigurd was
in Troendelag, he insulted the beautiful Sigrid, the wife of the
liegeman, Ivar of Fljod, after having sent the latter on a dangerous
expedition to Ireland. This Sigrid's brother, Sigurd Ranesson, resented,
and was, by way of revenge, accused by the king of embezzlement in the
Finn-trade, which had been farmed out to him by Magnus Barefoot. In his
need he appealed to King Eystein, who, when he heard the story, promised
him his assistance. Three times Sigurd Ranesson was now summoned to
court by King Sigurd, but every time Eystein's superior knowledge of the
law saved him. The legal procedure, which is recorded in detail, is full
of interest, and shows a remarkable development of the social
organization, considering the time. In the end, however, Eystein had not
only to assume the conduct of the case, but became a party to the suit,
in his client's place. King Sigurd was greatly incensed, and Sigurd
Ranesson, in order to avoid bloodshed, went late in the evening on board
of his enemy's ship, fell on his knees before him, and said: "I will
not, my lord king, that you and your brother shall be at strife on my
account. * * * Rather I surrender myself and my head to your power and
mercy, * * * for I would rather die than be the cause of hostility
between you and King Eystein."
The king, after having pondered long, answered: "In sooth thou art a
noble man, Sigurd, and thou hast chosen the way which will be best for
us all. Know that * * * I had firmly resolved to-morrow to go up to the
Ilevolds with all my men, and fight with King Eystein."
He now gave judgment that his antagonist should pay fifteen marks in
gold, which should be divided between the three kings, but as Eystein
and Olaf both refused to accept their share of the money, Sigurd, not
wishing to be outdone in generosity, likewise renounced his claim.
Though there was now no danger of war, the relation between the
brothers was yet far from cordial. A fresh source of disagreement soon
arose, for which Sigurd, as usual, was to blame. The rumor came to him
that Eystein was very fond of a maiden, named Borghild, the daughter of
the powerful peasant, Olaf of Dal; that he loved to sit at her side and
talk with her, and that his predilection for her society had been the
cause of scandalous reports. Borghild, in order to prove her innocence,
walked on glowing plough-shares, and endured the test. Sigurd, seeing
that here was an opportunity to pay his brother back for his protection
of Sigurd Ranesson, abducted Borghild and made her his mistress. She
became the mother of Magnus, who, for a short time, was king after his
father's death. Eystein took this affair much to heart, but made no
effort to avenge the wrong he had suffered. That he felt sore about it
was, however, natural enough, and this feeling burst forth on one
occasion most unexpectedly; though, to be sure, no allusion was made to
the real grievance.
It happened once, during the winter, that the two kings were feasting
together at one of Eystein's estates. King Sigurd's men, reflecting the
spirit of their master, behaved arrogantly toward King Eystein's people,
and were fond of exalting the one brother at the other's expense. Many
complaints were brought to Eystein, but he refused to take note of them.
The strained relation between the two parties, however, spoiled the
cheer of the table, and the men sat sullen over their cups and were ill
at ease. Then Eystein, with perhaps a deeper purpose than the apparent
one, proposed a so-called "man-measuring," or comparison of merits,
which was a favorite social pastime in those days. It is to be remarked,
that etiquette did not then forbid a man to boast of his own deeds and
accomplishments. On the contrary, the custom survived from the age of
paganism to emphasize frankly one's merits, and when occasion demanded,
to hurl tremendous volleys of vituperation against an adversary.
"Dost thou remember," Sigurd began, in response to his brother's
challenge, "how I threw thee in wrestling, * * * although thou wast a
year older than I?"
"I remember also," Eystein replied, "that thou wast my inferior in
agility."
Step by step they now advanced through childhood and youth, comparing
each other's proficiency in swimming, skating, shooting, skee-running,
and in personal appearance. Finally, Sigurd touched the main point at
issue, when he said:
"It has been generally acknowledged that the campaign, which I made in
foreign lands, was in sooth worthy of a chieftain, while thou sattest at
home in thy country like thy father's daughter."
"* * * I think I also remember," Eystein rejoined, "that it was I who
fitted thee out from home for that campaign, as I would have done a
daughter."
"But I went to the Holy Land and to Africa, but there I saw thee not. I
won eight battles. Thou wast not in one of them. I went to the sepulchre
of Christ; there I saw thee not. I went to the River Jordan, by the
same road that our Lord had gone, and I swam across; but I saw thee not
there. I tied a knot for thee in the underbrush on the river-bank, and
it is yet waiting for thee to untie it. I conquered the city of Sidon
with the king of Jerusalem, without thy aid or counsel."
[Illustration: HITTERDAL CHURCH. ILLUSTRATING OLD NORSE ECCLESIASTICAL
ARCHITECTURE.]
Eystein listened imperturbably to this long list of his brother's deeds,
and finally answered: "I have indeed heard, that thou didst fight some
battles abroad, and what I have to match against such deeds is but
trifles. North in Vaagen I put up booths for the fishermen, so that poor
people may find shelter and earn their living. I had a church erected,
appointed a priest, and gave land for the support of the church. * * *
Those who enjoy the benefit of this will remember that Eystein was king
in Norway. * * * Across the Dovre Mountain there was much travel. There
people lay out on the rocks and suffered hardships. I built an inn and
endowed it. The travellers, who now reap the benefit of this, will
remember King Eystein. At Agdeness there was a dangerous coast and no
harbor, so that ships were often wrecked. There I constructed a harbor,
where there is excellent anchorage for all ships. * * * I likewise built
a church there and put up sea-marks on the high mountains. * * * All
these things are now of service to fishermen and merchants who carry the
products of the land from place to place, and they, while benefiting by
them, will remember me. * * * The inhabitants of Jemteland I made
subject to this realm, not by violence, but by gentle words and rational
negotiations. * * * All these things are perhaps of small moment, but I
do not believe that they are of less benefit to my country and people,
and will profit my soul less, than it will profit thine to have sent
Moors to the devil, and expedited them head over heels to hell. * * *
Now, as regards the knot thou didst tie for me, then, methinks, I might
have tied such a knot for thee that thou wouldst never have been king in
Norway, when thou returnedst from thy campaign, and didst sail hither
with but a single ship. Let, now, intelligent men judge, what advantage
thou hast over me, and know ye, ye purse-proud braggarts, that there are
yet men in Norway, who dare hold themselves your equals."
This was the end of the "man-measuring"; and both kings were very wroth.
Several other incidents are recorded, which show that Sigurd's jealousy
of his brother would, at length, have brought about a breach of the
peace, if death had not suddenly made an end of their intercourse.
Eystein died at the age of thirty-three, August 29, 1122. The youngest
brother, Olaf, had died (1115) before he reached manhood, and Sigurd was
accordingly the sole ruler in the land. He was now free from the
restraint, which Eystein's pacific disposition had imposed upon him, and
he presently availed himself of his liberty to make a crusade into the
Swedish province Smaaland, where paganism yet lingered (1123). He
attacked the town of Kalmar, from which incident the war has been called
the Kalmar War. Whether he succeeded in converting the pagans is not
known; nor are any other results of the crusade recorded. After his
return from this campaign, a great calamity befell him. Once, it is
told, when he was in his bath, he called out, that there was a fish in
the bath-tub, and ran about trying to catch it. It was the first symptom
of the insanity which darkened the remaining years of his life. He was
often sane for long periods; but, at times, he would sit and brood with
wildly rolling eyes, or break out into paroxysms of wrath. Once, on the
day of Pentecost, when his madness came upon him, he took a precious
book,[A] which he had brought with him from Constantinople, and, gazing
gloomily at Queen Malmfrid, who was sitting at his side, said: "How many
things can change in a man's lifetime! When I returned to my country, I
owned two things which seemed to me most precious,--this book and the
queen. Now the one seems only more worthless than the other. The queen
does not know how hideous she is; for a goat's horn is sticking out of
her head. * * * And this book here is good for nothing."
[Footnote A: A codex written in letters of gold, containing probably a
portion of the Bible.]
Then he rose, gave the queen a slap, and flung the book into the fire.
But in the same instant, a young taper-bearer, named Ottar Birting,
jumped forward, snatched the book from the flames, and stepped
fearlessly before the king. "Different it is now, my lord," he said,
"from the time, when thou didst sail with pomp and splendor to Norway,
and all thy friends hastened with joy to meet thee. * * * Now the days
of sorrow have come upon us; for to this glorious feast many of thy
friends have come, but they cannot be glad because of thy sad condition.
Be now so kind, good my lord, to accept this advice. Rejoice by thy
gentleness first the queen, whom thou hast so sorely offended, and then
all thy chieftains, thy men-at-arms, thy friends, and thy servants."
"How darest thou, ugly, low-born tenant's son, give me counsel?" cried
the king, springing up and drawing his sword.
All the guests expected, in the next moment, to see Ottar's head roll on
the floor. But Ottar stood, gazing calmly into the king's face, and did
not stir from the spot. Then Sigurd suddenly stayed his hand and let the
sword fall gently upon his shoulder. He rebuked his liegemen, for not
having protested against his insane acts, and thanked the youth for his
courage.
"Go, therefore, Ottar," he finished; "and take thy seat among the
liegemen. Thou shalt no more wait upon any one."
Ottar Birting became in later years a man of great fame and authority.
It may have been due to the unsoundness of his mind that Sigurd, in the
last years of his life committed an act, which, however generous it may
seem, was scarcely politically defensible. In the year 1129, a young
Irishman named Harold Gilchrist arrived in Norway and declared that he
was a son of Magnus Barefoot. It was known that King Magnus had had a
mistress in Ireland, and during his last battle he is said to have
recited a verse about an Irish girl, whom he loved above all others. It
is therefore probable that Harold Gilchrist was, or at least believed
himself to be, heir to the throne of Norway. He went to King Sigurd, who
listened to his story, and allowed him to prove the truth of his
statement by submitting to the ordeal by fire. He walked over the
red-hot ploughshares and endured the test successfully. It was the
priests who had charge of such ordeals, and it was believed that they
had the result in their power. Harold Gilchrist, or Gille, as the
Norsemen called him, was now acknowledged by the king as his brother, on
condition that he should make no claim to the government, as long as
Sigurd or his son Magnus was alive. It was, however, no easy task for
the king to secure for the long-necked, thin-legged, and lanky Irishman
the respect which was due to a member of the royal family. In the first
place Harold's appearance was against him, and in the second place, he
stammered and could scarcely make himself understood in Norwegian. The
king's son, Magnus, hated and ridiculed him, and among the liegemen
there were many who believed him to be an unscrupulous adventurer. A few
years before his death, Sigurd put away Queen Malmfrid, disregarding the
warning of Bishop Magne, and married a beautiful and high-born woman,
named Cecilia. He did not long survive this marriage. Many of his
friends urged him, for the good of his soul, to dissolve it. But the
fascination, which Cecilia exercised over him, was so great, that he
could not bear the thought of losing her. At last, when he was taken
ill, she herself suggested a separation.
"I did not know that thou, too, didst despise me like the rest," he
answered sadly. His face flushed purple, and he turned away from her.
His illness now took a turn for the worse, and on March 26, 1130, he
died, forty years old. Dissipations had undermined his health, and his
insanity had long unfitted him for the cares of government. For all
that, there seems to be a halo about his name, partly on account of his
early fame, and partly because of the good crops and commercial
prosperity which prevailed during his reign. He seemed to the people a
grand figure, and, in spite of his great faults, every inch a king. What
may have contributed more than any thing else to endear his memory to
later generations was the evil times that broke over the land at his
death. He seemed himself to have a foreboding of this, when he said:
"Ye are badly off, ye Norsemen, for you have a mad king; and yet
methinks that, in a short while, you will be willing to give the red
gold to have me as your king, rather than Harold or Magnus; for the
former is cruel; the latter is devoid of sense."
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