MAGNUS ERLINGSSON (1162-1184).
Erling Skakke had effectually cleared the way to the throne for his son,
by killing every descendant of the royal house whom he could lay hands
on. There was, however, another undoubted son of Sigurd Mouth left, whom
he had not got into his power, besides several whose claims had not yet
been pronounced upon. The bitterness between the party of Erling and
that of Haakon was indeed so great, that a reconciliation was not to be
thought of, and the latter, therefore, seized the opportunity to rally
about a king whose royal descent was unquestioned. This new claimant was
a boy named Sigurd Marcusfostre (the foster-son of Marcus), probably ten
or twelve years old, who had been brought up by Marcus of Skog, a friend
and kinsman of Earl Sigurd of Reyr. Another magnate, the much-travelled
Eindride the Young, transferred his allegiance to Sigurd, and a large
number of proud and adventurous men, who could not tolerate Erling's
supremacy, joined the new party. The peasants, however, who had hitherto
suffered but little from the feuds of the kings, now began to find these
roving bands troublesome, especially when they levied contributions and
foraged wherever they went. Erling availed himself of this circumstance
to excite their indignation against the "Sigurd party," as it was
called, and he presently succeeded in forcing the hostile chieftains to
give battle at Ree, near Tunsberg. Here Earl Sigurd fell, and Eindride
the Young, Marcus of Skog, and the boy-king Sigurd were captured and
executed.
Although no formidable pretender was now left, Erling, whose ambition
was nothing less than the founding of a new dynasty, did not feel secure
in his possession of power. The Troenders, who had been partisans of
Sigurd Mouth, were yet at heart devoted to the party which represented
him, and the Danish king Valdemar was incensed, because Erling had not
kept his promise in regard to the cession of Viken. To fortify himself
against the contingencies arising from this situation, Erling found it
necessary to cast about him for new allies, and the choice which he made
was exceedingly shrewd.
The Archbishop of Nidaros, at that time, was the able and imperious
Eystein Erlendsson, who descended from a mighty Troendelag family, and
therefore, apart from his episcopal office, was a man of great
influence. He shared the political sympathies of the community in which
he lived, and was therefore more disposed to be Erling's enemy than his
friend. The sagacious chieftain, however, succeeded in propitiating him
and in forming an alliance with him for mutual advantage. The result of
their negotiations was, that a great meeting was called in Bergen, at
which Norway was declared to be St. Olaf's heritage and property, and
the bishops, as his representatives, acquired the right to reject any
legitimate heir to the throne, in case they held him to be unworthy. The
clerical and secular magnates were, at the death of a king, to select
among his heirs the one who was to succeed him, the presumption being
always in favor of the eldest son born in wedlock, unless he was
declared unworthy. In case of disagreement, a majority of votes was to
decide the choice, but only in so far as the archbishop and the other
bishops gave their consent. If the king left no heirs of whom the
magnates approved, they were at liberty to elect any one whom they
regarded as fit to guard "the right of God and the laws of the land."
It is obvious that the secular and the clerical magnates here united for
the spoliation of the crown, and in return for the concessions which
Erling had made, as the nominal representative of the latter, the
archbishop crowned Magnus in Bergen (1164), thereby repairing, in the
eyes of many, the deficiency of his title. He had the friendship of the
Church, which had it in her power to influence the people in his favor.
He could therefore look forward without fear to meeting the Danish king,
who was preparing to take forcible possession of the province which had
been promised him. In order to test the sentiment of the people toward
Magnus, Valdemar sent secret messengers with presents and friendly
greetings to many prominent Troenders, some of whom committed themselves
in writing to join him, in case he invaded Norway. Their letters,
however, fell into Erling's hands, and the offenders were punished with
severity. Some were killed, others outlawed, and again others were
sentenced to pay enormous fines. When King Valdemar finally, in 1165,
sailed with a large fleet to Norway he received a different reception
from what he had expected. The number of the disaffected who were ready
to do him homage was very small, compared to the number of those who
were ready to fight him. He, therefore, returned to Denmark, without
awaiting Erling's arrival. It is said that he suffered from lack of
provisions; and was indisposed to harry in a province which he hoped
soon to lay under his crown.
Before Erling had time to return this visit, a band of rebels was
organized in the Oplands under the leadership of Olaf Guldbrandsson, a
grandson on the mother's side of King Eystein I., the brother of Sigurd
the Crusader. This new pretender attempted to rally the discontented
chieftains under his banner. His adherents were called the Hood-Swains
(Hettesveiner), and he himself got the surname, the Unlucky (Ugaeva),
because he came within an ace of capturing Erling at the farm, Rydjoekel,
north of Lake Oieren, but failed through mischance (1166). The
Hood-Swains then for some time eked out a precarious existence in forest
and field; for the fear of Erling was so great that few who had any
thing to lose dared to make common cause with them. He would probably
have put an end to them without delay, if the hostilities with Denmark
had not demanded his attention. It was, just then, the favorable moment
for attacking Valdemar's kingdom, as he was himself absent in Wendland
and his kinsman, Buris Henriksson, who had the greater part of Jutland
in fief, had promised to co-operate with the Norsemen and even to
capture and kill the king on his return. Erling accordingly sailed with
his fleet to Denmark and beat the Danes at Djursaa; but was prevented,
by the resolute conduct of Bishop Absalon, from reaping any benefit from
his victory. A second campaign of Valdemar in Norway was as indecisive
as the first, and finally, when both parties were tired of the aimless
warfare, peace was concluded (1171), on condition that Erling should
govern Viken as Valdemar's vassal and accept from him the title of earl.
It is probable that Erling, after his return, made known only in part
the terms of this peace; for the national feeling had now begun to
assert itself in Norway; and it is scarcely credible that the people of
Viken, who had, but a short time ago, manifested their hostility to the
Danish king, should now willingly submit to becoming his subjects. What
Erling did was really to confirm his own power and that of his son, at
the expense of the integrity and the independence of his country. But in
that respect he only followed the traditions of his class. The
aristocracy of Norway usually (though there were many honorable
exceptions) regarded their own independence and power as more important
than those of their country. It was not the first time that the tribal
magnates bartered away faith and honor for personal gain. In the olden
time, when Norway was but a loose agglomeration of tribes, who felt
their kinship to the Danes and Swedes more strongly than they did
their own geographical isolation, such conduct was often excusable. But
in the days of Erling Skakke, the Norsemen were a nation, quite distinct
from their neighbors, and the cession of a fertile province, like Viken,
gave the Danes a foot-hold on the peninsula, and meant in the future, as
Erling was shrewd enough to know, infinite complications, wars, and the
possible loss of independence.
[Illustration: THE RAFT SUND IN VESTFJORD, BETWEEN LOFOTEN AND
VESTERAALEN ISLANDS.]
Having thus placated his foreign foes, Erling set himself to the task of
exterminating the domestic ones. Olaf the Unlucky he had already, before
the conclusion of the negotiations, beaten in two fights (at Stanger and
at Dav, 1168), and had destroyed his band. Olaf had fled to Denmark,
where he died (1169). There were, however, several pretenders left who
had as much right to the throne as Magnus Erlingsson; and Erling did not
choose to wait until they became dangerous, before relieving himself of
their presence. Sigurd Mouth's daughter, Cecilia, he sent to Vermeland
and made her the mistress of a man, named Folkvid the Lawman. His own
step-son, Harold, an illegitimate son of his wife Christina, and
accordingly a grandson of Sigurd the Crusader, he beheaded, in spite of
King Magnus' prayers and protests. That kind of clemency which involved
future danger he professed not to understand.
"If I let him live," he said to his son, "they will all want him for
their king, and thee to kiss the lips of the axe."
In spite of all his precautions, however, there was one scion of the
royal house, and that the most dangerous of all, who escaped his
attention. There was, at that time, living in the Faeroe Isles a youth
named Sverre Sigurdsson, and the history of Norway for the next thirty
years is chiefly his story. But before he enters upon the scene, a
pretender named Eystein Meyla (Little Girl), who professed to be a son
of Harold Gille's son Eystein, made a little stir and gathered about him
the remnants of the rebellious party. He tried to obtain aid in Sweden,
and was well received by Earl Birger in Goetland, who had married Harold
Gille's daughter, Brigida. He could, however, not sustain himself
against Erling's power, and was obliged to roam about with his band on
mountains and in wildernesses, robbing and plundering in order to keep
from starving. His men thereby got a bad name, and on account of their
dilapidated appearance and their habit of using birch-bark for shoes,
the peasants called them derisively Birkebeiner, _i. e._, Birchlegs. The
discipline of hardship and danger which their arduous life imposed upon
them stood them, however, in good stead; and insignificant though they
were in number, they were, as Erling found to his cost, not a foe to be
despised. However often he beat them, they would never stay beaten. With
wonderful intrepidity and endurance they rallied after each defeat, and
fought again, whenever there was a chance of fighting. Many of them were
undoubtedly little better than highwaymen, and to treat them as a
political party would be an extravagant compliment. Their chief
political purpose was, for a good while, to keep body and soul together.
Gradually, however, their band was increased by political malcontents
and even by men of high birth, who had quarrelled with Erling, or had
the death of kinsmen to avenge. In the summer of 1176 they were numerous
enough to surprise the city of Nidaros and have their chieftain, Eystein
Meyla, proclaimed king at the Oere-_thing_; but the following year their
luck deserted them, and in the battle of Ree, near Tunsberg, they were
overwhelmingly defeated by King Magnus, and Eystein Meyla was slain
(1177). The band then broke up, and the Birchlegs would perhaps never
have been heard of again, if their fortunes had not become identified
with those of a great man--Sverre Sigurdsson.
Sverre was born in the Faeroe Isles. His mother Gunhild was, according
to the legend, cook in the service of King Sigurd Mouth. She was not
particularly handsome, but quick-witted and intelligent. The king begged
her to kill her child, as soon as it was born; and being unwilling to
listen to such a proposition, she fled on a ship to the Faeroe Isles,
where she took service as milkmaid with Bishop Mathias. Here she bore a
son, whom she named Sverre. A smith or combmaker named Unas came, the
following spring, from Norway, and she suspected him of having been sent
by the king to kill her child. She therefore hid it in a cave, which is
yet called Sverre's Cave. Unas, however, followed her and discovered
where the child was hidden, but promised not to harm it, if she would
marry him. She consented, though reluctantly, and returned with him to
Norway. Sigurd Mouth was then dead, and she had nothing to fear. When
the boy was five years old, he returned to the Faeroe Isles with his
mother and step-father. The latter's brother, Roe, had been made bishop
after the death of Mathias, and Unas was not insensible to the advantage
of living in a neighborhood, where he had such an influential relative.
Sverre grew up in the belief that he was the son of Unas, and Bishop
Roe, who took a fancy to him on account of his extraordinary
intelligence, began to educate him for the priesthood. His ambition, as
he himself asserts, did not then extend beyond a bishopric, or possibly
a cardinal's hat. But when he was ordained as _diaconus_ (which is one
of the lower grades of the priesthood), his mother burst into tears, and
to his question why she was displeased at the honor conferred upon him,
she answered: "This is but a paltry honor, compared to that which by
right belongs to thee. Thou art not the son of him whom thou thinkest,
but of King Sigurd in Norway. I have kept this from thee, until thou
shouldst reach the age of manhood."
From that day Sverre's peace of mind was gone. Great thoughts tossed and
whirled about in his soul and his life seemed poor and meaningless. His
ambition kept him awake in the night and bright vistas of future
achievements beckoned him from afar.
"If I am born to a crown," he said to his mother, "then I will strive to
win it, whatever it may cost me. Life has no more joy for me without it,
and therefore I will stake life on it."
Disregarding the warnings of the bishop he embarked for Norway, and,
without revealing who he was, spent some time in investigating the
sentiments of the people toward King Magnus. This is highly
characteristic of Sverre. He made no leap in the dark, but computed
carefully the strength of the enemy whom he was to combat. What he
learned was, however, far from encouraging. The people seemed everywhere
devoted to King Magnus and well contented with his rule. Sverre also
made the acquaintance of Erling Skakke, studied him thoroughly, and
talked with his men-at-arms, who found the priest from the Faeroe Isles
a droll and entertaining fellow, and freely told him all the gossip of
the royal household. To enter the lists, alone and penniless, against a
power so formidable as this, seemed madness. Sverre was too shrewd not
to see that such an undertaking was hopeless. At the same time, he was
not minded to return, after his dream of royalty, to his obscure
priesthood on the bleak isles in the North Sea. He knew that Earl Birger
in Sweden was married to a sister of Sigurd Mouth, and, as a forlorn
hope, he crossed the frontier, revealed his origin to the earl, and
begged him for aid. The earl, it appears, who had reaped no glory from
his alliance with Eystein Meyla, did not receive Sverre's request
graciously, suspecting that he had been sent by Erling to mock him.
Sverre, then, betook himself to his half-sister, Cecilia, who was the
mistress of Folkvid the Lawman, and met here with a better reception.
The rumor that a son of Sigurd Mouth had made his appearance in Sweden
had, in the meanwhile, gone abroad and had reached the remnants of the
Birchleg band. They made haste to find Sverre and requested him to be
their chief; but Sverre, seeing what condition they were in, declined.
He made them a little speech, in which he remarked that the only thing
he had in common with them was poverty; and advised them, in conclusion,
to select as their chief one of Earl Birger's sons, who were, like
himself, descendants of Harold Gille. The Birchlegs acted upon this
advice, but received no encouragement from the earl.
He told them, perhaps not without a humorous intention, that Sverre was
their man, and advised them, in case he persisted in his refusal, to
threaten him with death. Back they went, accordingly, to Sverre, and
this time he yielded to their persuasions. He must then have been
twenty-four or twenty-five years old. And thus, with two empty hands and
seventy ragged and badly armed men, he began the fight for the crown of
Norway. He started from Vermeland southward for Viken, and so many
gathered about him on the way, that by the time he arrived in the
Saurbygd, he had 420 men. These proclaimed him, in spite of his protest,
king, and touched his sword in token of allegiance. But when he forbade
them to rob and plunder the peasants, the majority grew discontented and
left him. In order to test them he ordered them back to Vermeland, but
by the time he reached the Eidskog, his band had shrunk to the original
seventy. Sverre was now in a serious dilemma. He had announced himself
as a claimant to the throne, thereby making himself fair game for any
one who could slay him. And to wage war against King Magnus and Erling
Skakke with seventy men was too absurd to be considered. In his
extremity he sent messengers to Thelemark, where he had heard that some
Birchlegs had sought refuge after the battle of Ree, and where there was
said to be much dissatisfaction with King Magnus. Wherever he appeared,
the peasants met him with hostile demonstrations, and many were those
who wished to earn the gratitude of Earl Erling by destroying the
runaway priest and his robber band. But it was in these desperate
emergencies that the wonderful resources of Sverre's mind became
apparent. Though he often had to live on bark and frozen berries, which
were dug up from under the snow, his courage never failed him. Though in
his journeys through pathless mountain wildernesses, his men dropped
dead about him from exposure and hunger, and he had to cover himself
with his shield and allow himself to be snowed down, he kept a stout
heart in his bosom and rebuked those who talked of suicide. It is told
of him that during his march from Sweden to Nidaros, he came to a large
mountain lake which it was necessary to cross. Rafts were made, but the
men were so exhausted, that it took them a good while to fell the logs.
One by one the rafts were launched and rowed across. Sverre himself
boarded the last, but it was already so heavily loaded, that the water
reached above his ankle. One man, however, who was half dead with
weariness, had been left. He crawled down to the edge of the water and
begged the king to take him along, as otherwise he must perish. The
Birchlegs grumbled loudly, but Sverre commanded them to lay to and take
the man aboard. The raft then sank still deeper and the king stood in
the icy water up to his knees. It looked for awhile as if they would go
to the bottom. But Sverre did not change a mien. They reached, at last,
the further shore, where an enormous pine had fallen into the water. The
men, eager for safety, scrambled over into the tree, and Sverre was the
last to leave the raft, which, the moment his foot was off it, sank.
This incident was regarded by the Birchlegs as a miracle, and
strengthened their faith in Sverre's mission.
[Illustration: HORNELEN; A CLIFF ON THE ISLAND BREMANGERLAND AT THE
MOUTH OF THE NORDFJORD.]
At last, after incredible hardships, Sverre arrived early in June, 1177,
at the goal of his journey. He had then 120 men, but fortunately his
message to Thelemark brought him a reinforcement of eighty more. With
these he performed the most amazing manoeuvres--dodging a force of
fourteen hundred men which the partisans of Erling had sent against him.
He anticipated with ease what his enemies would do, while they never
could form the remotest conception of what he meant to do. Therefore the
peasant army scattered in its search for him, and was easily beaten in
separate detachments. It seems incredible that with his 200 or 250
warriors he could have beaten six or seven times their number, and the
explanation lies near, that many of the Troenders in secret sympathized
with him, though fear of Erling deterred them from openly espousing his
cause. Their success now gave the Birchlegs courage, and they thronged
joyously out to Oere-_thing_, whither Sverre had summoned twelve
representatives from each of the eight shires of Troendelag. Here he was
proclaimed king of Norway (1177).
The rejoicings of the Birchlegs were however, a little premature. Erling
Skakke was, by no means, dead yet, and he had no sooner heard of
Sverre's performances in Troendelag than he gathered a large fleet and
sailed northward to have a reckoning with him. Sverre did not care to
meet the relentless earl just then, and he therefore sought refuge again
in the mountains. For two years he led, most of the time, a life which
no dog would have envied him; now descending into the valleys on
foraging expeditions, now again retiring into the wilderness and
suffering untold privations. Occasionally hunger drove him to play a
practical joke on the peasants, surprising them as an uninvited guest at
their Yule-tide feasts, sitting down with his Birchlegs at the
banqueting boards and devouring their holiday fare. Altogether his
hardships were not unrelieved by humor. Like Robin Hood and his Merry
Men, he had pity on the small, and often dispensed a kind of rough
justice to the great. His name was cursed from one end of the kingdom to
the other; as he himself remarked, many believed him to be the devil
incarnate. Nurses scared naughty children with the threat that Sverre
would come and take them, and the girls when they pounded the wet
clothes at the river brink never failed to wish that Sverre's head was
under the pounder. At the same time, a certain admiration for the power
of the man and his undauntable spirit can scarcely have failed to affect
those who had not directly suffered by his depredations. His many
battles and guerilla fights with King Magnus and his liegemen, his
second and unsuccessful attempt to capture Nidaros, and his skirmishing
with the peasants cannot here be described in detail, though the saga,
which was prepared under his own supervision, enables us to follow all
his movements with tolerable accuracy. It was not until June, 1179, that
he fought a battle which gave a decisive turn to his future. Then, he
made a sudden descent from Gauldale upon Erling, who was feasting in
Nidaros.
"Would that it were true," said the earl, when the approach of the
Birchlegs was announced to him; "they shall then get their deserts, but
for that matter, we may sleep soundly to-night, for I have been told
that they have already retired into the mountains, and Sverre will not
venture to attack us, when we are watching for him, as we are doing
now."
Accordingly he told his men to go to bed; and this they did in a
condition which made it no easy task to wake them. When Sverre, who, as
usual, was well informed, was about to make his attack, he addressed his
men as follows:
"Now it is necessary to fight well and bravely; for a beautiful victory
is to be won. I will tell you what you can now obtain by your bravery.
He who can prove by truthful witnesses that he has slain a liegeman
shall himself become a liegeman; and every man shall get the title and
dignity of the man who falls by his hand."
The Birchlegs needed no further encouragement. Poorly armed though they
were, they stormed down over the hill-sides into the city. One fellow
who was rushing along with a wooden club in his hand was asked what he
had done with his weapons.
"They are down in the town," he answered; "as yet, the earl's men have
got them."
The alarm was now given, and bewildered and heavy with sleep, the earl's
warriors tumbled out into the streets. King Magnus was also present, but
the confusion was so great that he had much difficulty in rallying his
followers.
Many of the chieftains advised Erling to flee on board his ships and
make his escape.
"I don't deny," he answered, "that that might seem to be the best; but I
can't endure the thought that that devil of a priest, Sverre, should put
himself in my son's place."
He therefore retired outside the city to Kalvskindet and there awaited
the attack; but though his force was far greater than Sverre's, he could
not maintain himself against the furious onslaught of the Birchlegs.
After a brief defence the earl was slain, and the flight became general.
King Magnus, when he saw his father's bloody face upturned against the
sky, paused in his flight, stooped down and kissed him.
"We shall meet again, father mine, in the day of joy," he said, and
hastened reluctantly away.
Great was the rejoicing among the Birchlegs when it became known, that
Earl Erling was dead. Sverre, who rarely missed a chance to make a
speech, and who, moreover, was duly qualified for the office of
conducting obsequies, made a funeral oration over his fallen foe. He
drew the moral of the earl's life, and said some things which, no doubt,
were true. But as he went on he gave more and more play to his caustic
irony, and was, perhaps, less generous than he could have afforded to be
in his judgment of the dead chieftain.
From this time forth, Sverre had the upper hand, and though the war
lasted for several years more, it changed its character. It was no
longer a fight between law and order on one side and a handful of
outlawed adventurers on the other. It was rather a civil war between two
well-matched parties. Personally Magnus was indeed no match for Sverre,
but as the representative of the old order of things--a monarchy
deriving its power and support from the tribal aristocracy,[A]--he was
no mean opponent. With Sverre and his Birchlegs a lower stratum of
society arose--an uncouth and hungry democracy,--demanding its share of
the good things of life, which had not hitherto been within its reach.
It is Sverre's merit that he knew how to discipline these fierce and
greedy elements, and force them into subjection to law and order. While
before the battle at Kalvskindet he stimulated their cupidity by
offering each man the honors and dignities of the man whom he slew, he
took good care, when the victory was won, to keep this cupidity within
bounds. He kept his promises, raised men of low degree to high offices,
rewarded fidelity and valor, and revolutionized society in a democratic
spirit. But, considering the time in which he lived and the completeness
of his victory, he showed remarkable moderation. He meant the new order
of things which he founded to be lasting, and instead of turning his
victorious Birchlegs loose to prey upon the state, he charged them with
the maintenance of law and order, invested them with responsibility, and
punished them if they exceeded their authority. He could do this without
peril, because his men loved and admired him as much as they feared him.
His power over them was complete. He had shared the evil days with them,
braved dangers and hardships, and tested their manhood.
[Footnote A: Munch: Det Norske Folks Historie, iii., 107. Sars: Udsigt
over den Norske Historie, ii., cap. iv.]
An intimate comradeship and attachment had grown up between them, which,
however, did not exclude authority on one side, and respect and
obedience on the other.
How much Magnus had lost by the battle of Kalvskindet is indicated by
the fact that his adherents now get a party name and sink to the
position formerly occupied by their opponents. They were called
"Heklungs," because it was told of them that they had once robbed a
beggar woman whose money was wrapped up in a cloak (_hekl_).
"Birchlegs," from having been a term of reproach, now became an
honorable appellation which Sverre's veterans were not a little proud
of.[A]
[Footnote A: Munch: iii., 106.]
Magnus spent the year after his defeat mostly in Bergen where he had
many adherents, went thence to Viken, and made every effort to gather an
army with which to destroy his enemies. He must have had considerable
success, for when he went northward to Nidaros, he had a force much more
numerous than the one Sverre could muster. Nevertheless he suffered an
ignominious defeat at the Ilevolds (1180), near Nidaros, and had to flee
head over heels to Bergen. Thither Sverre followed him, and came near
being caught in a trap by one of Magnus' followers, Jon Kutiza, who came
with an army of peasants to kill that "devil's priest." The devil's
priest was, however, as usual, too clever for the Heklungs, and sent
them flying, as soon as he lifted his sword. Magnus, in the meanwhile,
had sought refuge in Denmark, where King Valdemar received him well,
and this kingdom became the base of operations against Sverre. Long time
did not elapse before the Heklungs were again on the way northward with
thirty-two ships, and came within an ace of making an end of Sverre in
the Saltoe Sound; but as usual he slipped out of the trap by a daring
stratagem. Soon after, Magnus overtook the Birchlegs at Nordness (1181),
near Bergen, and this time Sverre, who was anxious not to lose his
prestige, determined to stay and give battle, although his fleet was but
half as large as that of his enemies. The Birchlegs were, as a rule, not
good sailors, and never fought as well on the sea as on dry land. The
Heklungs made a fierce onset, and were gradually gaining several
advantages, when Sverre stepped forward where the fight was hottest,
lifted his hands toward the sky, and sang in a loud, clear voice the
Latin hymn, "Alma chorus domini." Hostile missiles beat like hail about
him; but though he had no shield, he remained unharmed. Just then
Magnus, flushed with warlike zeal, stormed forward and was on the point
of boarding one of the hostile ships, when he received a wound through
the wrist. The pain made him pause abruptly, and in so doing he slipped
upon the bloody deck and fell backward. The Birchlegs sent up a
tremendous shout of victory, and Orm King's-Brother (a half-brother of
Harold Gille's sons), hearing that the king was slain, cried: "Then the
fate of the realm is decided."
Instantly he cut the ropes which held the ships together, and, breaking
the battle-line, fled as fast as he could. Magnus, getting on his feet,
called vainly to his men that he was alive, and begged them not to flee
from a victory. But the confusion soon became general, and Sverre, who
was quick to take advantage of it, captured ship after ship and forced
the rest into ignominious flight.
The war was still continued for three years with changing fortunes. In
fact, Magnus, whenever he returned from Denmark, where he sojourned in
the intervals between his defeats, seemed as formidable as ever, and had
little difficulty in gathering an army under his banner. Sverre,
therefore, in order to put an end to an internecine conflict which was
draining the resources of the country, proposed to share the kingdom
with him, and, when this proposal was rejected, that they should reign
alternately for a term of three years each. This well-meant offer Magnus
likewise repelled, and, after repeated interviews and fruitless
negotiations, hostilities were resumed. Three times during the years
1181 and 1182 the Heklungs attacked Nidaros, where the Birchlegs had
their head-quarters, and fought with variable success. In 1183 Sverre
assumed again the offensive, surprised Magnus in Bergen, and compelled
him to flee to Denmark, abandoning his fleet, his treasures, and the
crown regalia. Archbishop Eystein, who had been one of the staunchest
partisans of the Heklungs, had, some years before, fled to England, and
had hoped to injure Sverre by declaring him in the ban of the church.
Sverre was, however, not in the least disturbed by the ban, while the
archbishop was greatly disturbed by the loss of his see. Perceiving that
Magnus' chances of regaining his power were diminishing, the wily
prelate opened negotiations with the excommunicated king and received
him back into the bosom of the Church, on condition of being restored to
his dignities.
A last attempt to recover what he had lost was made by Magnus in the
summer of 1184. He then sailed northward to Bergen with a fleet of
twenty-six ships and about three thousand two hundred men. He learned
that Sverre had sailed up into the Norefjord (a narrow arm of the
Sognefjord) with a few ships and a small force of men, for the purpose
of punishing the Sognings, who had killed his prefect, Ivar Darre.
Sverre was, as a rule, not easily surprised. But in the present instance
he had not the faintest suspicion of danger until he saw the galleys of
the Heklungs steering right down upon him. Escape was not to be thought
of. He was shut in on all sides. The Heklungs, seeing that he had but
fourteen ships, and that his force scarcely numbered more than half of
theirs, were disposed to give thanks to God for having at last delivered
their enemies into their hands. But it is sometimes a doubtful blessing
to have such enemies as the Birchlegs delivered into one's hands. At all
events, Magnus began to have doubts, as soon as battle had commenced, as
to who were the captors and who the captives. The Birchlegs fought with
heroism, and the Heklungs fell in great numbers and many leaped into the
sea. Among the latter was King Magnus. It was midnight before the bloody
work was at an end, and by that time two thousand men had lost their
lives. All the ships of the Heklungs and much booty fell into Sverre's
hands. When the morning broke there could be seen through the clear
waters of the Sognefjord the corpses of slain chieftains lying
outstretched on the bottom, while the fishes swam around them. The
corpse of King Magnus was not found until two days after the battle, and
was then taken to Bergen, where it was buried with great solemnity.
In the battle of Norefjord fell, beside the king, the flower of the
Norse aristocracy. King Inge's son Harold, Orm King's-Brother and his
son Ivar Steig, and a large number of proud chieftains, were among the
slain. They had pinned their hope to King Magnus, and with his death
their dominion was at an end. With Sverre Sigurdsson's reign begins a
new epoch in the history of Norway.
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[Illustration]