"She cannot be as lovely as Tora was," said Ragnar.

Produced by Chris Curnow and the Online Distributed

Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

Transcriber's note: Ten minor typographical errors have been

corrected in this text version.

Édition d'Élite

Historical Tales

The Romance of Reality

By

CHARLES MORRIS

_Author of "Half-Hours with the Best American Authors," "Tales from the

Dramatists," etc._

IN FIFTEEN VOLUMES

Volume IX

Scandinavian

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON

Copyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.

[Illustration: From Stereograph Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N.Y.

OLD BRIDGE AT OEREBRO.]

_CONTENTS_

PAGE

HOW KING ROLF WON HIS BRIDE 9

RAGNAR LODBROK AND HIS WIVES AND SONS 19

HAROLD FAIR-HAIRED FOUNDS THE KINGDOM OF NORWAY 31

GORM THE OLD, DENMARK'S FIRST KING 42

ERIK BLOOD-AXE AND EGIL THE ICELANDER 49

THE SEA-KINGS AND THEIR DARING FEATS 60

HAAKON THE GOOD AND THE SONS OF GUNHILD 69

EARL HAAKON AND THE JOMSVIKINGS 78

HOW OLAF, THE SLAVE-BOY, WON THE THRONE 89

OLAF DETHRONES ODIN AND DIES A HERO 98

OLAF THE SAINT AND HIS WORK FOR CHRIST 108

CANUTE THE GREAT, KING OF SIX NATIONS 121

MAGNUS THE GOOD AND HAROLD HARDRULER 132

SVERRE, THE COOK'S SON, AND THE BIRCHLEGS 145

THE FRIENDS AND FOES OF A BOY PRINCE 160

KING VALDEMAR I. AND BISHOP ABSOLON 169

THE FORTUNES AND MISFORTUNES OF VALDEMAR II 176

BIRGER JARL AND THE CONQUEST OF FINLAND 186

THE FIRST WAR BETWEEN SWEDEN AND RUSSIA 196

THE CRIME AND PUNISHMENT OF KING BIRGER 202

QUEEN MARGARET AND THE CALMAR UNION 211

HOW SIR TORD FOUGHT FOR CHARLES OF SWEDEN 217

STEN STURE'S GREAT VICTORY OVER THE DANES 226

HOW THE DITMARSHERS KEPT THEIR FREEDOM 236

THE BLOOD-BATH OF STOCKHOLM 241

THE ADVENTURES OF GUSTAVUS VASA 252

THE FALL OF CHRISTIAN II. THE TYRANT 271

THE WEST GOTHLAND INSURRECTION 283

THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF KING ERIK 296

GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS ON THE FIELD OF LEIPSIC 310

CHARLES X. AND THE INVASION OF DENMARK 319

CHARLES XII. THE FIREBRAND OF SWEDEN 326

THE ENGLISH INVADERS AND THE DANISH FLEET 343

A FRENCH SOLDIER BECOMES KING OF SWEDEN AND NORWAY 349

THE DISMEMBERMENT OF DENMARK 358

BREAKING THE BOND BETWEEN NORWAY AND SWEDEN 362

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

SCANDINAVIAN.

PAGE

THE OLD BRIDGE AT OEREBRO, ONE OF THE MOST

ANCIENT TOWNS OF SWEDEN. _Frontispiece._

HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT, NORWAY 35

HOME OF PEASANTS, NORWAY 50

BUSY FARMERS IN A HILLSIDE FIELD ABOVE ARE, SWEDEN 80

A NORDFJORD BRIDE AND GROOM WITH GUESTS AND

PARENTS. BRIGSDAL, NORWAY 95

NORWEGIAN PEASANTS 115

NORWEGIAN FARM BUILDINGS 135

LINKOPING FROM TANNEFORS 165

VILLAGE LIFE AND HOMES IN SWEDEN 190

MORNING GREETINGS OF NEIGHBORS, SWEDEN 210

GRIPSHOLM CASTLE, MARI 220

SKURUSUND, STOCKHOLM 230

SKANSEN RIVER 242

THE FAMOUS XVI. CENTURY CASTLE AT UPSALA, SWEDEN 256

NORWEGIAN CARRIAGE CALLED STOLKJAEM 285

ARMORY AND COSTUME HALL OF THE ROYAL MUSEUM, SWEDEN 300

STATUE OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS 312

THE RETURN OF CHARLES XII. OF SWEDEN 340

KRONBERG CASTLE ON THE SOUND, DENMARK 348

THE BOURSE, COPENHAGEN, DENMARK 360

_HOW KING ROLF WON HIS BRIDE._

At one time very many centuries ago, we cannot say just when, for this

was in the days of the early legends, there reigned over Upsala in Sweden

a king named Erik. He had no son and only one daughter, but this girl was

worth a dozen sons and daughters of some kings. Torborg she was named,

and there were few women so wise and beautiful and few men so strong and

valiant. She cared nothing for women's work, but was the equal of any man

of the court in riding, fighting with sword and shield, and other

athletic sports. This troubled King Erik very much, for he thought that

the princess should sit in her maiden chamber like other kings'

daughters; but she told him that when she came to succeed him on the

throne she would need to know how to defend her kingdom, and now was the

time for her to learn.

That she might become the better fitted to rule, she asked him to give

her some province to govern, and this he did, making her queen of a third

of his kingdom, and giving her an army of stout and bold warriors. Her

court was held at Ulleraker in Upland, and here she would not let any one

treat her as a woman, dressing always in men's clothing and bidding her

men to call her King Torborg. To fail in this would be at risk of their

heads. As her fame spread abroad, there were many who came to court her,

for she was at once very beautiful and the heiress of a great kingdom.

But she treated all such with laughter and contempt. It is even said that

she put out the eyes of some, and cut off the hands and feet of others,

but this we do not like to believe. At any rate, she drove away those who

troubled her too much with lance and spear. So it was plain that only a

strong and bold man could win this warlike maiden for his wife.

At that time King Götrik who ruled in Gothland, a country in southern

Sweden, had sent his younger son Rolf to be brought up at the court of

his foster-brother King Ring of Denmark. His elder son Kettil he kept at

home, but did not love him much on account of his pride and obstinacy. So

it happened that when Götrik was very old and like to die, he decided

that Rolf, who was very tall and strong, and very fit and able, should

succeed him, though he was the younger son. All agreed to this, even

Kettil, so Rolf was sent for and made king of Gothland, which he ruled

with skill and valor.

One day Rolf and Kettil, who loved each other as brothers should, were

talking together, and Kettil said that one thing was wanting to the glory

and honor of Rolf's rule, and that was a queen of noble birth and goodly

presence.

"And whom have you in mind?" asked Rolf.

"There is Torborg, the king of Upsala's daughter. If you can win her for

wife it will be the greatest marriage in the north."

To this advice Rolf would not listen. He had heard of how the shrewish

Torborg treated her suitors, and felt that wooing her would be like

taking a wild wolf by the ears. So he stayed unmarried for several years

more, though Kettil often spoke of the matter, and one day said to him

contemptuously:

"Many a man has a large body with little courage, and I fear you are such

a one; for though you stand as a man, you do not dare to speak to a

woman."

"I will show you that I am a man," said Rolf, very angry at these words.

He sent to Denmark for his foster-brother Ingiald, son of King Ring, and

when he came the two set out with sixty armed men for the court of King

Erik in Upsala.

One morning, about this time, Queen Ingerd of Upsala awoke and told King

Erik of a strange dream she had dreamed. She had seen in her sleep a

troop of wolves running from Gothland towards Sweden, a great lion and a

little bear leading them; but these, instead of being fierce and shaggy,

were smooth-haired and gentle.

"What do you think it means?" asked the king.

"I think that the lion is the ghost of a king, and that the white bear is

some king's son, the wolves being their followers. I fancy it means that

Rolf of Gothland and Ingiald of Denmark are coming hither, bent on a

mission of peace, since they appear so tame. Do you think that King Rolf

is coming to woo our daughter, Torborg?"

"Nonsense, woman; the king of so small a realm would show great assurance

to seek for wife so great a princess as our daughter."

So when Rolf and his followers came to Upsala King Erik showed his

displeasure, inviting him to his table but giving him no seat of honor at

the feast. Rolf sat silent and angry at this treatment, but when Erik

asked him why he had come, he told him courteously enough the reason of

his visit.

"I know how fond you Goths are of a joke," said Erik, with a laugh. "You

have a way of saying one thing when you mean another. But I can guess

what brings you. Gothland is little and its revenues are small and you

have many people to keep and feed. Food is now scarce in Gothland, and

you have come here that you may not suffer from hunger. It was a good

thought for you to come to Upsala for help, and you are welcome to go

about my kingdom with your men for a month; then you can return home

plump and well fed."

This jesting speech made Rolf very angry, though he said little in reply.

But when the king told Queen Ingerd that evening what he had said she was

much displeased.

"King Rolf may have a small kingdom," she said, "but he has gained fame

by his courage and ability, and is as powerful as many kings with a wider

rule. You did not well to mock him."

The next day Erik, thus admonished, begged Rolf's pardon, saying that the

ale had made him speak foolishly, and thus he became reconciled with his

guest. As for Rolf's desire to win his daughter, he would first have to

gain Torborg's consent, which would be no easy matter. The king promised

not to interfere but would do no more.

Soon after this Rolf and his men arrived at Ulleraker, reaching there

when the whole of Torborg's court were assembled in the great hall.

Fearing a hostile reception, Rolf took wary precautions. He choose twelve

of his stoutest men, with himself and Ingiald at their head, to enter the

court with drawn swords in their hands. If they were attacked, they were

to go out backward fighting, but they were bidden to conduct themselves

like men and let nothing alarm them. The others remained outside, keeping

the horses in readiness to mount.

When the party entered the hall, Rolf at their head, all there were

struck with his great size and noble aspect. No one assailed them and he

walked up the hall, on whose high seat at the front he saw what seemed a

tall and finely formed man, dressed in royal robes. Knowing that this

must be the haughty princess whose hand he had come to seek, he took off

his helmet, bowed low before her, and began to tell what brought him to

her court.

He had scarcely begun when she stopped him. She said that he must be

joking; that she knew his real errand was to get food and that this she

would give him; but he must apply for it to the chief of the kitchen,

not to her.

Rolf had not come so far to be laughed out of the court, and he sturdily

went on with what he had to say, speaking to her as a woman, and

demanding her hand in marriage. At this she changed her jesting manner,

her cheeks grew red with anger, and springing up, she seized her weapons

and called upon her men to lay hold upon and bind the fool that had dared

affront their monarch. Shouting and confusion followed and a sharp attack

was made on the intruders, but Rolf put on his helmet and bade his men to

retire, which they did in good order. He walked backward through the

whole hall, shield on arm and sword in hand, parrying and dealing blows,

so that when he left the room, though no blade had touched him, a dozen

of the courtiers lay bleeding. But being greatly overmatched, he ordered

his men to mount, and they rode away unscathed.

Back to West Gothland they went and told Kettil how poorly they had

fared.

"You have suffered a sore insult and affront at a woman's hand," said

Kettil, "and my advice is that it be speedily avenged," but Rolf replied

that he was not yet ready to act.

Torborg had not taken the trouble to ask the name of her wooer, but when

she learned who it was she knew very well that the matter had not reached

its end and that her would-be lover would return stronger than before. As

she did not want him or any man for husband she made great preparations

for an attack, gathering a large body of warriors and having a wall of

great strength and the finest workmanship built round the town. It was so

high and thick that no battering ram could shake it, while water-cisterns

were built into it to put out the fire if any one sought to burn it. From

this we may judge that the wall was of wood. This done, Torborg made

merry with her court, thinking that no lover in the wide world would now

venture to annoy her.

She did not know the kind of man she had to deal with in King Rolf. He

had fought with men and fancied he was fit to conquer a woman. The next

summer he had a battle with Asmund, son of the king of Scotland, and when

it was over they became friends and foster-brothers and went on viking

cruises together. Next spring Rolf armed and manned six ships and, taking

Kettil and Ingiald and Asmund with him, set sail for Upsala. He proposed

now to woo the warrior princess in another fashion.

Queen Ingerd about this time dreamed again, her dream being the same as

before, except that this time there were two white bears, and a hog which

was small but spiteful, its bristles pointing forward and its mouth

snarling as if ready to bite anything that came before it. And the bears

did not look as gentle as before, but seemed irritated.

She interpreted this dream to mean that Rolf was coming again to avenge

the affront he had received, and that the fierce hog must stand for

Kettil, of whose character she had been told.

When Rolf now arrived King Erik received him with honor, and again agreed

to remain his friend, no matter how stormy a courtship he might have.

From Upsala he set out for Ulleraker and sent a herald to Princess

Torborg, asking speech with her. She presented herself at the top of the

wall, surrounded by armed men. King Rolf renewed his suit, and told her

plainly that if she did not accept his proposal he had come to burn the

town and slay every man within its walls.

"You shall first serve as a goatherd in West Gothland before you get any

power over me and mine," answered Torborg haughtily.

Rolf lost no time in assailing the walls, but found them stoutly

defended. The Swedes within poured boiling water and hot pitch on their

assailants, threw down stones and beams, and hurled spears and arrows

from the wall. For fourteen days the siege continued without effect,

until the Goths, weary of their hard fighting and the mockery of the

defenders, began to complain and wanted to return home. The townspeople

derided them by showing costly goods from the ramparts and bidding them

come and take them, and ridiculed them in many other ways.

King Rolf now saw that he must take other measures. He had a cover

constructed of boards and brushwood and supported by stout beams, making

a strong roof which was set against the wall and defied all the boiling

water and missiles of the Swedes. Under its shelter a hole was dug

through the wall and soon the Goths were in the queen's citadel.

To their surprise they found it empty. Not a soul was to be seen, but in

every room they found well-cooked food and many articles of value.

"This is a fine capture," said Kettil. "Let us enjoy ourselves and divide

the spoil."

"Not so," said Rolf. "It is a lure to draw us off. I will not rest till I

have the princess in my power."

They sought the palace through and through, but no one was there. Finally

a secret passage was discovered, leading underground, and the king

entered it, the others following. They emerged in a forest where they

found Torborg and all her men and where a sharp battle began. No warrior

could have fought more bravely than the man-like princess, and her men

stood up for her boldly, but they gradually gave way before the onset of

Rolf and his tried warriors.

Rolf now bade Kettil to take Torborg prisoner, but not to wound her,

saying that it would be shameful to use arms against a woman. Kettil

sprang forward and gave the princess a sharp blow with the flat of his

sword, reviling her at the same time with rude words. In return, Torborg

gave him so hard a blow on the ear with her battle-axe that he fell

prostrate, with his heels in the air.

"That is the way we treat our dogs when they bark too loud," she said.

Kettil sprang up, burning with anger, but at the same moment Rolf rushed

forward and grasped the warlike princess in his powerful arms, so that

she was forced to surrender.

He told her that she was his prisoner, but that he did not wish to win a

wife in the viking manner and that he would leave it to her father to

judge what should be done. Taken captive in his arms, there was nothing

else for her to do, and she went with him to Upsala, where King Erik was

delighted at Rolf's success. As for the warlike princess, she laid down

her arms at her father's feet, put on a woman's garments, and seemed glad

enough to have been won as a bride in so warlike a manner and by so

heroic a wooer.

Soon after this the marriage took place, the festivities being the

grandest the court could afford and lasting for fourteen days, after

which Rolf and his followers returned home, his new queen with him. The

sagas say, as we can well believe after so strenuous a wooing, that

afterwards King Rolf and Queen Torborg lived a long and happy life.

_RAGNAR LODBROK AND HIS WIVES AND SONS._

The old sagas, or hero tales of the north, are full of stories of

enchantment and strange marvels. We have told one of these tales in the

record of King Rolf and Princess Torborg. We have now to tell that of

Ragnar Lodbrok, a hero king of the early days, whose story is full of

magical incidents. That this king reigned and was a famous man in his

days there is no reason to doubt, but around his career gathered many

fables, as was apt to be the case with the legends of great men in those

days. To show what these tales were like we take from the sagas the

marvellous record of Ragnar and his wives.

In East Gothland in the ancient days there lived a mighty jarl, or earl,

named Herröd, who was descended from the gods. He had a daughter named

Tora, who was famed for her beauty and virtue, but proved as hard to win

for a wife as Princess Torborg had been. She dwelt in a high room which

had a wall built around it like a castle, and was called Castle Deer,

because she surpassed all other women in beauty as much as the deer

surpasses all other animals.

Her father, who was very fond of her, gave her as a toy a small and

wonderfully beautiful snake which he had received in a charmed egg in

Bjarmaland. It proved to be an unwelcome gift. The snake was at first

coiled in a little box, but soon grew until the box would not hold it,

and in time was so big that the room would not hold it. So huge did it

become in the end that it lay coiled in a ring around the outer walls,

being so long that its head and tail touched.

It got to be so vicious that no one dared come near it except the maiden

and the man who fed it, and his task was no light one, for it devoured an

ox at a single meal. The jarl was sorry enough now that he had given his

daughter such a present. It was one not easy to get rid of, dread of the

snake having spread far and wide, and though he offered his daughter with

a great dower to the man who should kill it, no one for a long time

ventured to strive for the reward. The venom which it spat out was enough

to destroy any warrior.

At length a suitor for the hand of the lovely princess was found in

Ragnar, the young son of Sigurd Ring, then one of the greatest monarchs

of the age, with all Sweden and Norway under his sway, as the sagas tell.

Ragnar, though still a boy, had gained fame as a dauntless warrior, and

was a fit man to dare the venture with the great snake, though for a long

time he seemed to pay no heed to the princess.

But meanwhile he had made for himself a strange coat. It was wrought out

of a hairy hide, which he boiled in pitch, drew through sand, and then

dried and hardened in the sun. The next summer he sailed to East

Gothland, hid his ships in a small bay, and at dawn of the next day

proceeded toward the maiden's bower, spear in hand and wearing his

strange coat.

There lay the dreaded serpent, coiled in a ring round the wall. Ragnar,

nothing daunted, struck it boldly with his spear, and before it could

move in defence struck it a second blow, pressing the spear until it

pierced through the monster's body. So fiercely did the snake struggle

that the spear broke in two, and it would have destroyed Ragnar with the

venom it poured out if he had not worn his invulnerable coat.

The noise of the struggle and the fierceness of the snake's convulsions,

which shook the whole tower, roused Tora and her maids, and she looked

from her window to see what it meant. She saw there a tall man, but could

not distinguish his features in the grey dawn. The serpent was now in its

death throes, though this she did not know, and she called out:

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

Ragnar answered in this verse:

"For the maid fair and wise

I would venture my life.

The scale-fish got its death wound

From a youth of fifteen!"

Then he went away, taking the broken handle of the spear with him. Tora

listened in surprise, for she learned from the verse that a boy of

fifteen had slain the great monster, and she marvelled at his great size

for his years, wondering if he were man or wizard. When day came she told

her father of the strange event, and the jarl drew out the broken spear

from the snake, finding it to be so heavy that few men could have lifted

it.

Who had killed the serpent and earned the reward? The jarl sent a mandate

throughout his kingdom, calling all men together, and when they came he

told them the story of the snake's death, and bade him who possessed the

handle of the spear to present it, as he would keep his word with any

one, high or low.

Ragnar and his men stood on the edge of the throng as the broken head of

the spear was passed round, no one being able to present the handle

fitting it. At length it came to Ragnar, and he drew forth the handle

from his cloak, showing that the broken ends fitted exactly. A great

feast for the victor was now given by Jarl Herröd, and when Ragnar saw

the loveliness of Tora, he was glad to ask her for his queen, while she

was equally glad to have such a hero for her spouse. A splendid bridal

followed and the victor took his beautiful bride home.

This exploit gave Ragnar great fame and he received the surname of

Lodbrok, on account of the strange coat he had worn. Ragnar and Tora

lived happily together but not to old age, for after some years she took

sick and died, leaving two sons, Erik and Agnar, who grew up to be strong

and beautiful youths. Ragnar had loved her greatly and after her death

said he would marry no other woman. Nor could he comfort himself at home

but began to wander abroad on warlike voyages, that he might drive away

his sorrow.

Leaving Ragnar Lodbrok to his travels, let us take up the strange story

of another fair maiden, who was to have much to do with his future life.

She was named Aslög and was the daughter of King Sigurd Fafnisbane, of

Germany. Soon after she was born enemies of her father killed him and her

mother and all of his race they could find. Her life was saved by Heimer,

foster-father to her mother, who to get her away from the murderers had a

large harp made with a hollow frame, in which he hid the child and all

the treasure he could find.

Then he wandered far as a travelling harper, letting the child out when

they came to solitary woods, and when she wept and moaned silencing her

by striking the strings of the harp. After long journeying he came to a

cottage in Norway called Spangerhed, where lived a beggar and his wife.

Seeing a gold bracelet under Heimer's rags, and some rich embroidery

sticking from the harp, the beggar and his wife killed him during the

night and broke open the harp. They found in it the wealth they sought,

but the discovery of the pretty little girl troubled them.

"What shall we do with this child?" he asked.

"We will bring her up as our own, and name her Kraka, after my mother,"

said his wife.

"But no one will believe that ugly old people like us can have so fair a

daughter."

"Let me manage it," said the wife. "I will put tar on her head so that

her hair will not be too long, and keep her in ragged clothes and at the

hardest work."

This they did and little Aslög grew up as a beggar's child. And as she

kept strangely silent, never speaking, all people thought her dumb.

One day, when Aslög was well grown, Ragnar Lorbrok came that way,

cruising along the Norway coast. The crew was out of bread and men were

sent ashore to bake some at a house they saw in the distance. This house

was Spangerhed, where Kraka dwelt.

She had seen the ships come up and the men land, and was ashamed to be

seen by strangers as she was, so she washed herself and combed her hair,

though she had been bidden never to do so. So long and thick had her hair

grown that it reached to the ground and covered her completely.

When the cooks came to bake their bread they were so surprised at the

beauty of the maiden that they let the loaves burn while looking at her,

and on being blamed for this carelessness on their return to the ship

said they could not help it, for they had been bewitched by the face of

the loveliest maiden they had ever gazed upon.

"She cannot be as lovely as Tora was," said Ragnar.

"There was never a lovelier woman," they declared, and Ragnar was so

struck by their story that he sent messengers ashore to learn if they

were telling the truth. If it were so, he said, if Kraka were as

beautiful as Tora, they were bidden to bring her to him neither dressed

nor undressed, neither fasting nor satisfied, neither alone nor in

company. The messengers found the maiden as fair as the cooks had said

and repeated the king's demand.

"Your king must be out of his mind, to send such a message," said the

beggar's wife; but Kraka told them that she would come as their king

wished, but not until the next morning.

The next day she came to the shore where the ship lay. She was completely

covered with her splendid hair, worn like a net around her. She had eaten

an onion before coming, and had with her the old beggar's sheep dog; so

that she had fulfilled Ragnar's three demands.

Her wit highly pleased Ragnar and he asked her to come on board, but she

would not do so until she had been promised peace and safety. When she

was taken to the cabin Ragnar looked at her in delight. He thought that

she surpassed Tora in beauty, and offered a prayer to Odin, asking for

the love of the maiden. Then he took the gold-embroidered dress which

Tora had worn and offered it to Kraka, saying in verse, in the fashion of

those times:

"Will you have Tora's robe? It suits you well. Her

white hands have played upon it. Lovely and kind was

she to me until death."

Kraka answered, also in verse:

"I dare not take the gold-embroidered robe which

adorned Tora the fair. It suits not me. Kraka am I

called in coal-black baize. I have ever herded goats on

the stones by the sea-shore."

"And now I will go home," she added. "If the king's mind does not change

he can send for me when he will."

Then she went back to the beggar's cottage and Ragnar sailed in his ship

away.

Of course every one knows without telling what came from such an

invitation. It was not long before Ragnar was back with his ship and he

found Kraka quite ready to go with him. And when they reached his home a

splendid entertainment was given, during which the marriage between

Ragnar and Kraka took place, everything being rich and brilliant and all

the great lords of the kingdom being present. It will be seen that,

though the Princess Aslög pretended to be dumb during her years of

youthful life in the beggar's cottage, she found her voice and her wits

with full effect when the time came to use them.

She was now the queen of a great kingdom, and lived for many years

happily with her husband Ragnar. And among her children were two sons who

were very different from other men. The oldest was called Iwar. He grew

up to be tall and strong, though there were no bones in his body, but

only gristle, so that he could not stand, but had to be carried

everywhere on a litter. Yet he was very wise and prudent. The second

gained the name of Ironside, and was so tough of skin that he wore no

armor in war, but fought with his bare body without being wounded. To the

people this seemed the work of magic. There were two others who were like

other men.

Since the older brothers, the sons of Tora, had long been notable as

warriors, the younger brothers, when they grew up, became eager to win

fame and fortune also, and they went abroad on warlike expeditions,

fighting many battles, winning many victories, and gaining much riches.

But Iwar, the boneless one, was not satisfied with this common fighting,

but wanted to perform some great exploit, that would give them a

reputation everywhere for courage. There was the town of Hvitaby (now

Whitby, in Yorkshire, England), which many great warriors had attacked,

their father among them, but all had been driven back by the power of

magic or necromancy. If they could take this stronghold it would give

them infinite honor, said Iwar, and to this his brothers agreed.

To Hvitaby they sailed, and leaving their younger brother Ragnwald in

charge of the ships, because they thought him too young to take part in

so hard a battle, they marched against the town. The place was ably

defended, not only by men but by two magical heifers, their charm being

that no man could stand before them or even listen to their lowing. When

these beasts were loosed and ran out towards the troops, the men were so

scared by the terrible sound of their voices that Ironside had all he

could do to keep them from a panic flight, and many of them fell

prostrate. But Iwar, who could not stand, but was carried into battle

upon shields, took his bow and sent his arrows with such skill and

strength that both the magic heifers were slain.

Then courage came back to the troops and the townsmen were filled with

terror. And in the midst of the fighting Ragnwald came up with the men

left to guard the ships. He was determined to win some of the glory of

the exploit and attacked the townsmen with fury, rushing into their ranks

until he was cut down. But in the end the townsmen were defeated and the

valiant brothers returned with great honor and spoil, after destroying

the castle. Thus it was that the sons of Kraka gained reputation as

valiant warriors.

But meanwhile Kraka herself was like to lose her queenly station, for

Ragnar visited King Osten of Upsala who had a beautiful daughter named

Ingeborg. On seeing her, his men began to say that it would be more

fitting for their king to have this lovely princess for his wife, instead

of a beggar's daughter like Kraka. Ragnar heard this evil counsel, and

was so affected by it that he became betrothed to Ingeborg. When he went

home he bade his men to say nothing about this betrothal, yet in some way

Kraka came to know of it. That night she asked Ragnar for news and he

said he had none to tell.

"If you do not care to tell me news," said Kraka, "I will tell you some.

It is not well done for a king to affiance himself to one woman when he

already has another for his wife. And, since your men chose to speak of

me as a beggar's daughter, let me tell you that I am no such thing, but a

king's daughter and of much higher birth than your new love Ingeborg."

"What fable is this you tell me?" said Ragnar. "Who, then, were your

parents?"

"My father was King Sigurd Fafnisbane and my mother was the Amazon

Brynhilda, daughter of King Budle."

"Do you ask me to believe that the daughter of these great people was

named Kraka and brought up in a peasant's hut?"

The queen now told him that her real name was Aslög and related all the

events of her early life. And as a sign that she spoke the truth, she

said that her next child, soon to be born, would be a son and would have

a snake in his eye.

It came out as she said, the boy, when born, having the strange sign of

which she had spoken, so that he was given a name that meant Sigurd

Snake-in-Eye. So rejoiced was Ragnar at this that he ceased to think of

Ingeborg and all his old love for Kraka, or Aslög as she was now called,

came back.

The remainder of the lives of Ragnar and Aslög and of their warlike sons

is full of valiant deeds and magic arts, far too long to be told here,

but which gave them a high place in the legendary lore of the north, in

which Ragnar Lodbrok is one of the chief heroes. At length Ragnar was

taken prisoner by King Ethelred of England and thrown into a pit full of

serpents, where he died. Afterwards Iwar and his brothers invaded

England, conquered that country, and avenged their father by putting

Ethelred to death by torture. Iwar took England for his kingdom and the

realms of the north were divided among his brothers, and many more were

the wars they had, until death ended the career of these heroes of

northern legend.

_HAROLD FAIR-HAIRED FOUNDS THE KINGDOM OF NORWAY._

To the far-off island of Iceland we must go for the story of the early

days of Norway. In that frosty isle, not torn by war or rent by tumult,

the people, sitting before their winter fires, had much time to think and

write, and it is to Iceland we owe the story of the gods of the north and

of the Scandinavian kings of heathen times. One of these writers, Snorri

Sturlasson by name, has left us a famous book, "The Sagas of the Kings of

Norway," in which he tells of a long line of ancient kings, who were

descended from the gods. Here are some of their names, Aun the Old,

Ingjald Ill-Ruler, Olaf the Wood-Cutter, Halfdan Whiteleg, and Halfdan

the Swarthy. There were others whom we need not name, and of these

mentioned the names must suffice, for all we know of them is legend, not

truth.

In those times there was no kingdom of Norway, but a number of petty

provinces, ruled over by warriors who are spoken of as kings, but whose

rule was not very wide. Most powerful among them was Halfdan the Swarthy,

who was only a year old in 810 when his father was killed in battle.

He lived for many years, and he and his wife Ragnhild had strange dreams.

The queen dreamed that a thorn which she took out of her clothes grew in

her hands until one end of it took root in the ground and the other shot

up into the air. It kept on growing until it was a great tree, so high

that she could barely see its top. The lower part of it was blood-red,

higher up it was bright green, and the spreading branches were white as

snow. So widely they spread that they seemed to shade the whole country

of Norway.

King Halfdan did not like it that his wife had such strange dreams and he

had none. He asked a sage why this was so, and was told that if he wanted

to have dreams as strange he must sleep in a pig-sty. A queer recipe for

dreams, one would think, but the king tried it, and dreamed that his hair

grew long and beautiful and hung in bright locks over his shoulders, some

of them down to his waist, and one, the brightest and most beautiful of

all, still farther down.

When he told the sage of this dream, the wise man said it meant that from

him was to come a mighty race of kings, one of whom should be the

greatest and most glorious of them all. This great hero, Snorri tells us,

was supposed to be Olaf the Saint, who reigned two hundred years later,

and under whom Christianity first flourished in Norway.

Soon after these dreams a son was born to the queen, who was named

Harold. A bright, handsome lad he grew to be, wise of mind and strong of

body and winning the favor of all who knew him. Many tales which we

cannot believe are told of his boyhood. Here is one of them. Once when

the king was seated at the Yuletide feast all the meats and the ale

disappeared from the table, leaving an empty board for the monarch and

his guests. There was present a Finn who was said to be a sorceror, and

him the king put to the torture, to find out who had done this thing.

Young Harold, displeased with his father's act, rescued the Finn from his

tormentors and went with him to the mountains.

On they went, miles and leagues away, until they came to a place where a

Finnish chief was holding a great feast. Harold stayed there until

spring, when he told his host that he must return to his father's halls.

Then the chief said:

"King Halfdan was very angry when I took his meat and ale from him last

winter, and now I will reward you with good tidings for what you did.

Your father is dead and his kingdom waits for you to inherit. And some

day you will rule over all Norway."

Harold found it to be as the Finn had said, and thus in 860, when he was

only ten years old, he came to the throne. He was young to be at the head

of a turbulent people and some ambitious men there were who sought to

take advantage of his youth, but his uncle guardian fought for him and

put them all down. Harold was now the greatest among the petty kings of

Norway and a wish to be ruler of the whole land grew up in his soul.

Here comes in a story which may not be all true, but is pretty enough to

tell. It is to the effect that love drove Harold to strive for the

kingdom. Old Snorri tells the story, which runs this way.

King Erik of Hördaland had a fair daughter named Gyda, the fame of whose

beauty reached Harold's ears and he sent messengers to win her for

himself. But the maid was proud and haughty and sent back word:

"Tell your master that I will not yield myself to any man who has only a

few districts for his kingdom. Is there no king in the land who can

conquer all Norway, as King Erik has conquered Sweden and King Gorm

Denmark?"

This was all the answer she had for the heralds, though they pleaded for

a better answer, saying that King Harold was surely great enough for any

maid in the land.

"This is my answer to King Harold," she said. "I will promise to become

his wife if for my sake he shall conquer all Norway and rule it as freely

as King Erik and King Gorm rule their kingdoms. Only when he has done

this can he be called the king of a people."

When the heralds returned they told the king of their ill success and

advised him to take the girl by force.

"Not so," Harold replied. "The girl has spoken well and deserves thanks

instead of injury. She has put a new thought into my mind which had not

come to me before. This I now solemnly vow and call God to witness, that

I will not cut or comb my hair until the day when I shall have made

myself king of all Norway. If I fail in this, I shall die in the

attempt."

[Illustration: HOUSE OF PARLIAMENT, NORWAY.]

Such is the legend of Gyda and the vow. What history tells us is that the

young king set out to bring all Norway under his rule and prospered in

the great enterprise. One after another, the small kings yielded to his

power, and were made earls or governors under him. They collected taxes

and administered justice in his name. All the land of the peasants was

declared to be the property of the king, and those who had been free

proprietors were now made the king's tenants and were obliged to pay

taxes if they wished to hold their lands. These changes angered many and

there were frequent rebellions against the king, but he put them all

down, and year after year came nearer the goal of his ambition. And his

hair continued to grow uncut and uncombed, and got to be such a tangled

mass that men called him Harold Lufa, or Frowsy-Head.

There was one great and proud family, the Rafnistas, who were not easily

to be won. To one of them, Kveld-Ulf, or Night-Wolf, Harold sent envoys,

asking him to enter his service, but the chief sent back word that he was

too old to change. Then he offered Bald Grim, old Night-Wolf's son, high

honors if he would become his vassal. Bald Grim replied that he would

take no honors that would give him rank over his father.

Harold grew angry at this, and was ready to use force where good words

would not prevail, but in the end the old chief agreed that his second

son Thorolf might be the king's man if he saw fit. This he agreed to do,

and as he was handsome, intelligent and courtly the king set much store

by him.

Not only with the Norway chiefs, but with the king of Sweden, Harold had

trouble. While he was busy in the south King Erik invaded the north, and

Harold had to march in haste to regain his dominions. But the greatest

danger in his career came in 872, when a number of chiefs combined

against him and gathered a great fleet, which attacked Harold's fleet in

Halfrs-Fjord. Then came the greatest and hottest fight known to that day

in Norway. Loudly the war-horns sounded and the ships were driven

fiercely to the fray, Harold's ship being in the front wherever the fight

waxed hottest. Thorolf, the son of Night-Wolf, stood in its prow,

fighting with viking fury, and beside him stood two of his brothers,

matching him blow with blow.

Yet the opposing chiefs and their men were stout fighters and the contest

long seemed doubtful, many brave and able men falling on both sides.

Arrows hissed in swift flight through the air, spears hurtled after them,

stones were hurled by strong hands, and those who came hand to hand

fought like giants. At length Harold's berserkers--men who fought without

armor, replacing it with fury of onslaught--rushed forward and boarded

the hostile ships, cutting down all who opposed them. Blood ran like

water and the chieftains and their men fell or fled before this wild

assault. The day was won for Harold, and with it the kingdom, for after

that fatal fray none dared to stand up before him.

His vow accomplished, all Norway now his, Harold at last consented to the

cutting of his hair, this being done by Ragnvald, the earl of Möre. The

tangled strands being cut and the hair deftly combed, those who saw it

marvelled at its beauty, and from that day the king was known as Harold

the Fair-Haired. As for Gyda, the maid, the great task she set having

been accomplished, she gave her hand to Harold, a splendid marriage

completing the love romance of their lives.

This romance, however, is somewhat spoiled by the fact that Harold

already had a wife, Aasa, the daughter of Earl Haakon, and that he

afterwards married other wives. He had his faults and weaknesses, one of

these being that he was not faithful to women and he was jealous of men

who were growing in greatness. One of the men whom he began to fear or

hate was Thorolf, who had aided him so mightily in battle and long stood

highest in his favor.

Thorolf married a rich wife and grew very wealthy, living like a prince,

and becoming profuse in his hospitality. He was gracious and liberal and

won hosts of friends, while he aided the king greatly in collecting taxes

from the Finns, who were not very willing to part with their money.

Despite this service Harold grew to distrust Thorolf, or to hate him for

other reasons, and the time came when this feeling led to a tragedy.

Thorolf had been made bailiff of Haalogaland, and when Harold came to

this province his bailiff entertained him with a splendid feast, to which

eight hundred guests were invited, three hundred of them being the king's

attendants.

Yet, through all the hilarity of the feast, Harold sat dark and brooding,

much to his host's surprise. He unbent a little at the end and seemed

well pleased when Thorolf presented him with a large dragon ship, fully

equipped. Yet not long afterwards he took from him his office of bailiff,

and soon showed himself his deadly foe, slandering him as a pretext for

attacking him on his estate.

The assailants set fire to Thorolf's house and met him with a shower of

spears when he broke out from the burning mansion. Seeing the king among

them Thorolf rushed furiously towards him, cut down his banner-bearer

with a sword blow, and was almost within touch of the king when he fell

from his many wounds, crying: "By three steps only I failed."

It is said that Harold himself gave the death blow, yet he looked sadly

on the warrior as he lay dead at his feet, saying, as he saw a man

bandaging a slight wound: "That wound Thorolf did not give. Differently

did weapons bite in his hand. It is a pity that such men must die."

This would indicate that King Harold had other reasons than appears from

the narrative for the slaughter of his former friend. It must be borne

in mind that he was engaged in founding a state, and had many disorderly

and turbulent elements with which to deal, and that before he had ended

his work he was forced to banish from the kingdom many of those who stood

in his way. We do not know what secret peril to his plans led him to

remove Thorolf from his path.

However that be, the killing of the chief sent his father to his bed sick

with grief, and he grew content only when he heard that the king's hand

had slain him and that he had fallen on his face at his slayer's feet.

For when a dying man fell thus it was a sign that he would be avenged.

But the old man was far too weak to attack Harold openly, and was not

willing to dwell in the same kingdom with him; so he, with his son Bald

Grim and all his family and wealth, took ship and set sail for Iceland.

But long he lingered on Norway's coast, hoping for revenge on some of

Harold's blood, and chance threw in his way a ship containing two cousins

of the king. This he attacked, killed the king's cousins, and captured

the ship. Then Bald Grim, full of exultation, sang a song of triumph on

the ship's prow, beginning with:

"Now is the Hersir's vengeance

On the king fulfilled;

Wolf and eagle tread on

Yngling's children."

There were other chieftains who sought refuge abroad from Harold's rule,

men who were bitterly opposed to the new government he founded, with its

system of taxation and its strict laws. They could not see why the old

system of robbing and plundering within Norway's confines should be

interfered with or their other ancient privileges curtailed, and several

thousand sailed away to found new homes in the Orkneys, the Hebrides, and

Iceland.

One of the chief of these, Rolf, or Rollo, son of the king's friend,

Ragnvald of Möre, defied Harold's laws and was declared an outlaw. His

high birth made the king more determined to punish him, as an example to

others, and no influence could win forgiveness for Rolf the Walker, as

men called him, saying that he was so tall and heavy that no horse could

carry him.

We must follow the outlaw in his journey, for it was one destined to lead

to great events. Setting sail with a fleet and a large number of

followers, he made his way to the coast of France, and fixed himself

there, plundering the people for several years. Charles the Simple, king

of France, finding that he could not drive the bold Norseman off, at

length gave him a large province on condition that he would become a

Christian, and hold his land as a vassal of the king. The province was

given the name of Normandy, and from Rollo descended that sturdy race of

kings one of whom conquered England in the following century. Thus the

exile of Rollo led to events of world-wide importance.

When the proud Norseman was asked to kiss King Charles's foot in token of

fealty to him, he answered: "I will never bend my knee before any man,

nor will I kiss any man's foot."

He could hardly be persuaded to let one of his men kiss the king's foot

as a proxy for him. The man chosen strode sturdily forward, seized the

foot of the king, who was on horseback, and lifted it to his lips so

roughly that the poor king turned a somersault from his horse. The

Norsemen laughed in derision while the king's followers stood by grim and

silent.

But despite his unruliness at home, Rollo, when he got a kingdom of his

own, ruled it with all the sternness of King Harold, hanging all robbers

that fell into his hands, and making his kingdom so secure that the

peasants could leave their tools in the fields at night without fear of

loss. Five generations after him came to the throne William the

Conqueror, who won himself the kingdom of England.

To go back to Harold, the builder of the kingdom of Norway, we shall only

say in conclusion that he built his rule on sure foundations and kept a

court of high splendor, and died without a rebel in his realm in 933,

seventy-three years after he succeeded his father as ruler of a

province.

_GORM THE OLD, DENMARK'S FIRST KING._

In ancient times Denmark was not a kingdom, but a multitude of small

provinces ruled over by warlike chiefs who called themselves kings. It

was not until the ninth century that these little king-ships were

combined into one kingdom, this being done by a famous chieftain, known

by the Danes as Gorm den Gamle, or Gorm the Old. A great warrior he was,

a viking of the vikings, and southern Europe felt his heavy hand. A

famous story of barbarian life is that of Gorm, which well deserves to be

told.

He was the son of a fierce pagan of Norway, Hardegon, who was of royal

blood, being a grandson of the half-fabulous Ragnar Lodbrok. A prince

with only his sword for kingdom, Hardegon looked around for a piece of

land to be won by fighting, and fixed upon Lejre, in the fruitful Danish

island of Sjölland, which was just then in a very inviting state for the

soldier of fortune. Some time before it had fallen into the hands of a

Swedish fortune-seeker named Olaf, who left it to his two sons. These in

turn had just been driven out by Siegric, the rightful king, when

Hardegon descended upon it and seized it for himself. Dying, he left it

to his son Gorm.

Historic Tales: The Romance of Reality. Vol. 09 (of 15), Scandinavian · 第 1 / 20 段