would call it to-day. But while small in size, it stood high in rank, for
it was here that the great sacrifices to Odin, the chief Scandinavian
deity, were held, and it was looked upon as one of the most sacred of
spots. Hither at Yuletide came the devotees of Odin from all quarters to
worship at his shrine, and offer gifts of gold and silver, precious
stones and costly robes, to the twelve high priests of whom the king of
Lejre was the chief. And every worshipper, whether rich or poor, was
expected to bring a horse, a dog, or a cock, these animals being sacred
to Odin and sacrificed in large numbers annually at his shrine. In the
special nine-year services, people came in great numbers, and it is
probable that on these occasions human sacrifices were made, captives
taken in war or piratical excursions being saved for this purpose.
As one may see, the king of Lejre had excellent opportunity to acquire
wealth, and young Gorm, being brave, clever, and ambitious, used his
riches to increase his landed possessions. At least, the Danish
historians tell us that he began by buying one bit of land, getting
another by barter, seizing on one district, having another given him, and
so on. But all this is guess-work, and all we actually know is that Gorm,
the son of a poor though nobly-born sea-rover, before his death gained
control of all Denmark, then much larger than the Denmark of to-day, and
changed the small state with which he began into a powerful kingdom,
bringing all the small kings under his sway.
The ambitious chief did not content himself with this. Long before his
kingdom was rounded and complete he had become known as one of the most
daring and successful of the viking adventurers who in those days made
all Europe their prey.
Early in his reign he made a plundering cruise along the shores of the
Baltic and joined in a piratical invasion of Russia, penetrating far
inward and pillaging as he went. We hear of him again in 882 as one of
the chiefs of a daring band which made a conquering raid into Germany,
intrenched itself on the river Maas, sallied forth on plundering
excursions whose track was marked by ruined fields and burnt homesteads,
villages and towns, and even assailed and took Aix-la-Chapelle, one of
the chief cities of the empire of Charlemagne and the seat of his tomb.
The reckless freebooters stalled their horses in the beautiful chapel in
which the great emperor lay buried and stripped from his tomb its gilded
and silvered railings and everything of value which the monks had not
hidden.
The whole surrounding country was similarly ravaged and desolated by the
ruthless heathens, monasteries were burned, monks were killed or
captured, and the emperor, Charles the Fat, was boldly defied. When
Charles brought against the plunderers an army large enough to devour
them, he was afraid to strike a blow against them, and preferred to buy
them off with a ransom of two thousand pounds of gold and silver, all he
got in return being their promise to be baptized.
Finding that they had a timid foe to deal with, the rapacious Norsemen
asked for more, and when they finally took to their ships two hundred
transports were needed to carry away their plunder. The cowardly Charles,
indeed, was so wrought upon by fear of the pagan Danes that he even
passed the incredible law that any one who killed a Norseman should have
his eyes put out and in some cases should lose his life.
All this was sure to invite new invasions. A wave of joy passed through
the north when the news spread of the poltroonery of the emperor and the
vast spoil awaiting the daring hand. Back they came, demanding and
receiving new ransom, and in 885 there began a great siege of Paris by
forty thousand Danes.
King Gorm was one of the chiefs who took part in this, and when Henry of
Neustria, whom the emperor had sent with an army against them, was routed
and driven back, it was Gorm who pursued the fugitives into the town of
Soissons, where many captives and a great booty were taken.
The dastard emperor again bought them off with money and freedom to
ravage Burgundy, Paris being finally rescued by Count Eudes. In 891 they
were so thoroughly beaten by King Arnulf, of Germany, that their great
leaders fell on the field and only a remnant of the Norsemen escaped
alive, the waters of the river Dyle running red with the blood of slain
thousands.
Gorm was one of the chiefs who took part in this disastrous battle of
Louvaine and was one of the fortunate few who lived to return to their
native land. Apparently it was not the last of his expeditions, his wife,
Queen Thyra, taking care of the kingdom in his many long absences.
Thyra needed ability and resolution to fitly perform this duty, for those
were restless and turbulent times, and the Germans made many incursions
into Sleswick and Jutland and turned the borderlands on the Eyder into a
desert. This grew so hard to bear that the wise queen devised a plan to
prevent it. Gathering a great body of workmen from all parts of Denmark,
she set them to building a wall of defense from forty-five to
seventy-five feet high and eight miles long, crossing from water to water
on the east and west. This great wall, since known as the Dannevirke,
took three years to build. There were strong watch-towers at intervals
and only one gate, and this was well protected by a wide and deep ditch,
crossed by a bridge that could readily be removed.
For ages afterwards the Danes were grateful to Queen Thyra for this
splendid wall of defense and sang her praises in their national hymns,
while they told wonderful tales of her cleverness in ruling the land
while her husband was far away. Fragments of Thyra's rampart still remain
and its remains formed the groundwork of all the later border bulwarks of
Denmark.
Queen Thyra, while a worshipper of the northern gods, showed much favor
to the Christians and caused some of her children to be signed with the
cross. But King Gorm was a fierce pagan and treated his Christian
subjects so cruelly that he gained the name of the "Church's worm," being
regarded as one who was constantly gnawing at the supports of the Church.
Henry I. the Fowler, the great German emperor of that age, angry at this
treatment of the Christians, sent word to Gorm that it must cease, and
when he found that no heed was paid to his words he marched a large army
to the Eyder, giving Gorm to understand that he must mend his ways or his
kingdom would be overrun.
Gorm evidently feared the loss of his dominion, for from that time on he
allowed the Archbishop of Bremen to preach in his dominions and to
rebuild the churches which had been destroyed, while he permitted his son
Harald, who favored the Christians, to be signed with the cross. But he
kept to the faith of his forefathers, as did his son Knud, known as
"Dan-Ast," or the "Danes'-joy."
The ancient sagas tell us that there was little love between Knud and
Harald; and that Gorm, fearing ill results from this, swore an oath that
he would put to death any one who attempted to kill his first-born son,
or who should even tell him that Knud had died.
While Harald remained at home and aided his mother, Knud was of his
father's fierce spirit and for years attended him on his viking
expeditions. On one of these he was drowned, or rather was killed while
bathing, by an arrow shot from one of his own ships. Gorm was absent at
the time, and Thyra scarcely knew how the news could be told him without
incurring the sworn penalty of death.
Finally she put herself and her attendants into deep mourning and hung
the chief hall of the palace with the ashy-grey hangings used at the
grave-feasts of Northmen of noble birth. Then, seating herself, she
awaited Gorm's return. On entering the hall he was struck by these signs
of mourning and by the silence and dejection of the queen, and broke out
in an exclamation of dismay:
"My son, Knud, is dead!"
"Thou hast said it, and not I, King Gorm," was the queen's reply. The
news of the death had thus been conveyed to him without any one incurring
the sworn penalty. Soon after that--in 936--King Gorm died, and the
throne of Denmark was left to his son Harald, a cruel and crafty man whom
many of the people believed to have caused the murder of his brother.
_ERIK BLOOD-AXE AND EGIL THE ICELANDER._
In the year 900 Harold the Fair-Haired, the famous monarch who made a
kingdom of Norway, passed a law which was to work mischief for centuries
to come. Erik, his favorite son, was named overlord of the kingdom, but
with the proviso that his other sons should bear the kingly title and
rule over provinces, while the sons of his daughters were to be made
earls. Had the wise Harold dreamed of the trouble this unwise law was to
make he would have cut off his right hand before signing it. It was to
give rise to endless rebellions and civil wars which filled the kingdom
with ruin and slaughter for many reigns and at last led to its overthrow
and long disappearance from among the separate nations of the earth.
A bold and daring prince was Erik, with the old viking blood in his
veins. When only twelve years of age his father gave him five ships, each
with a sturdy crew of Norsemen, and sent him out to ravage the southern
lands, in the manner of the sea-kings of those days. Many were the
perilous exploits of the young viking admiral and when he came back to
his father's halls and told him of his daring deeds, the old king
listened with delight. So fierce and fatal were many of his fights that
he won the name of Blood-Axe, but for this his father loved him all the
more and chose him to be his successor on the throne.
[Illustration: HOME OF PEASANTS. NORWAY.]
Before his father died Erik had shown what was in him, by attacking and
killing two of his brothers. But despite all that, when the old king was
eighty years of age he led Erik to the throne and named him as his
successor. Three years later Harold died and Norway fell under the young
sea-king's hand--a brave, handsome, stately ruler; but haughty, cruel,
and pitiless in his wrath, and with the old viking wildness in his blood.
He had married a woman whom men called a witch--cruel, treacherous,
loving money and power, and with such influence over him that she killed
all the good in his soul and spurred him on to evil deeds.
Strange stories are told of the wicked Queen Gunhild. It was said that
she had been sent to Finland to learn the arts of sorcery, in which the
Finns of those days were well versed. Here Erik met her in one of his
wanderings, and was taken captive by her bold beauty. She dwelt with two
sorcerers, both bent on marrying her, while she would have neither of
them. Prince Erik was a suitor more to her liking and she hid him in her
tent, begging him to rescue her from her troublesome lovers.
This was no easy task, for sorcerers have arts of their own, but Erik
proved equal to it, cut his way through all the difficulties in his path
and carried Gunhild away to his ships, where he made her his wife. In
her he had wed a dragon of mischief, as his people were to learn.
She was of small size but of wonderful beauty, and with sly, insinuating
ways that fitted her well to gain the mastery over strong men. But all
her arts were used for evil, and she won the hatred of the people by
speaking words of ill counsel in her husband's ears. The treachery and
violence he showed were said to be the work of Gunhild the witch, and the
nobles and people soon grew to hate Erik Blood-Axe and his cruel wife,
and often broke out in rebellion against them.
His brothers, who had been made kings of provinces, were not ready to
submit to his harsh rule, and barely was old King Harold dead before
Halfdan the Swarthy--who bore the name of his grandfather--claimed to be
monarch in Tröndelag, and Olaf, another brother, in Viken. Death came
suddenly to Halfdan--men whispered that he had been poisoned by the
queen--but his brother Sigfrid took his place and soon the flame of
rebellion rose north and south. Erik proved equal to the difficulty.
Sigfrid and Olaf were in Tunsberg, where they had met to lay plans to
join their forces, when Erik, whose spies told him of their movements,
took the town by surprise and killed them both.
Thus, so far, Erik Blood-Axe was triumphant. He had killed four of his
brothers--men said five--and every one thought that Gunhild would not be
content until all King Harold's brood except her own husband were in the
grave.
Trouble next came from a region far away, the frost-king's land of
Iceland in the northern seas, which had been settled from Norway in the
early reign of Harold the Fair-Haired, some sixty years before. Here
lived a handsome and noble man named Thorolf, who had met Erik in his
viking days. He was the son of the stern old Icelander Bald Grim, and
nephew of the noble Thorolf who had been basely slain by King Harold.
Bald Grim hated Harold and all his race, but Thorolf grew to admire Erik
for his daring and made him a present of a large and beautiful ship. Thus
Erik became his friend, and when Thorolf came to Norway the young prince
begged his father to let him dwell there in peace. When he at length went
home to Iceland he took with him an axe with a richly carved handle,
which Erik had sent as a present to his father.
Old Bald Grim was not the man to be bought over by a present. The hate he
felt for Harold he transferred to his son, and when Thorolf set sail
again for Norway his father bade him take back the axe to the king and
sang an insulting song which he bade him repeat to Erik. Thorolf did not
like his errand. He thought it best to let the blood-feud die, so he
threw the axe into the sea and when he met the king gave him his father's
thanks for the fine gift. If Thorolf had had his way the trouble would
have been at an end, but with him came Egil, his younger brother, a man
of different character.
Stern old Bald Grim seemed born again in his son Egil. A man of great
size, swarthy face, harsh of aspect, and of fierce temper, in him was the
old, tameless spirit of the Norse sea-kings, turbulent, passionate,
owning no man master, he bent his strong soul to no man's rule. Rash and
adventurous, he had a long and stormy career, while nature had endowed
him with a rich gift of song, which added to his fame. Such was the type
of men who in those days made all Europe tremble before the Norsemen's
wrath, and won dominion for the viking warriors in many lands.
Thorold when in Norway before had gained powerful friends in the great
nobles, Thore Herse and Björn the Yeoman. On this visit the brothers
became Thore's guests, and Egil and Arinbjörn, Thore's son, became warm
friends. The young Icelander's hot temper soon brewed trouble. Sickness
kept him from going with Thorolf to the house of Björn the Yeoman, whose
daughter, Aasgard, he was to marry; but he soon got well and went on a
visit to Baard, a steward of the king. As fortune decreed he met there
King Erik and Queen Gunhild.
Egil was not the man to play the courtier and his hot blood was under
little control. When Baard neglected him in favor of his royal visitor,
he broke into such a rage that the queen, to quiet him, tried one of her
underhand arts. She bade Baard to mix sleeping herbs with his beer.
Suspecting treachery from the taste of the beer Egil flung his flagon to
the floor, struck Baard dead in his fury, and, fleeing for his life, swam
to an island in the neighboring stream. When men were sent to search the
island and capture him he killed some of them, seized their boat, and
made his escape.
King Erik was furious, but Thore Herse got him to accept a money payment
for Baard's death--as was then the custom of the land--and he agreed to
let Egil dwell in Norway unharmed.
This was not to the queen's liking. She was fond of Baard and was deeply
incensed at Egil for his murderous act, and she stormed at the king for
his mildness of temper till he broke out:
"You are forever egging me on to acts of violence; but now you must hold
your peace, for I have given my kingly word and cannot break it."
Gunhild, thus repulsed, sought other means of revenge. A great feast of
sacrifice to the old heathen gods was to be held at the temple of Gaule,
and at her instigation her brother, Eyvind Skreyja, agreed to kill one of
Bald Grim's sons. Finding no opportunity for this, he killed one of
Thorolf's men, for which act Erik outlawed him.
The remainder of the story of Egil's career is largely that of a viking,
that is, a piratical rover, bent on spoil and plunder and the harrying of
sea-coast lands. With Thorolf he took to the sea and cruised about in
quest of wealth and glory, finally landing in England and fighting in a
great battle under the banner of King Athelstan. He made his mark here,
but Thorolf was slain, so Egil went back to Norway, married his brother's
widow, and sailed for his old home in Iceland, which he had not seen for
twelve years.
Iceland was too quiet a land to hold the stirring sea-king long and news
from Norway soon made him take ship again. Björn the Yeoman, his wife's
father, had died, and Queen Gunhild had given his estate to Berg-Anund,
one of her favorites. Storming with rage, he reached Norway and hotly
pleaded his claim to the estate before the assembly or _thing_ at Gula,
Erik and Gunhild being present. He failed in his purpose, the _thing_
breaking up in disorder; and Egil, probably finding Norway too hot to
hold him, went back to Iceland.
If King Erik now fancied he was rid of the turbulent Icelander he was
mistaken. Rankling with a sense of injury and borne onward by his
impetuous temper, Egil was soon in Norway again, sought the Björn estate,
surprised and killed Berg-Anund, and went so far in his daring as to kill
Ragnvald, the king's son, who was visiting Berg. Carried to extremes by
his unruly temper he raised what was called a shame-pole, or pole of
dishonor, on a cliff top, to the king and queen. On it he thrust the head
of a dead horse, crying out:
"I turn this dishonor against all the land-spirits of this land, that
they may all stray bewildered and none of them find his home until they
have driven King Erik and Queen Gunhild out of this land."
This message of defiance he cut in runes--the letters of the
Northland--into the pole, that all might read it, and then sailed back to
Iceland.
Egil had not long to wait for his curse to take effect, for Erik's reign
was soon threatened from a new source. He had not killed all his
brothers. In the old days of King Harold, when near seventy years old, he
had married a new wife, who bore him a son whom he named
Haakon,--destined in later life to reign with the popular title of Haakon
the Good. This boy, perhaps for his safety, had been sent to England and
given over to King Athelstan, who brought him up almost as his own son.
Erik had been four years on the throne when Haakon came back to Norway, a
handsome, noble youth, kind of heart and gentle in disposition, and on
all sides hailed with joy, for Erik and his evil-minded wife had not won
the love of the people. Great nobles and many of the people gathered
around Haakon, men saying that he was like King Harold come back again,
gentler and nobler than of old and with all his old stately beauty and
charm.
The next year he was crowned king. Erik tried to raise an army, but none
of the people were willing to fight for him, and he was forced to flee
with his wife and children. Only a few of his old friends went with him,
but among them was Arinbjörn, Egil's former friend.
Sudden had been King Erik's fall. Lately lord of a kingdom, he had now
not a foot of land he could call his own, and he sailed about as a
sea-robber, landing and plundering in Scotland and England. At length,
to rid himself of this stinging hornet of the seas, King Athelstan made
him lord of a province in Northumberland, with the promise that he would
fight for it against other vikings like himself. He was also required to
be baptized and become a Christian.
Meanwhile Egil dwelt in Iceland, but in bitter discontent. He roamed
about the strand, looking for sails at sea and seeming to care little for
his wife and children. Men said that Gunhild had bewitched him, but more
likely it was his own unquiet spirit. At any rate the time came when he
could bear a quiet life no longer and he took ship and sailed away to the
south.
Misfortune now went with him. A storm drove his ship ashore on the
English coast at the mouth of the Humber, the ship being lost but he and
his thirty men reaching shore. Inquiring in whose land he was, people
told him that Erik Blood-Axe ruled that region.
Egil's case was a desperate one. He was in the domain of his deadly foe,
with little hope of escape. With his usual impetuous spirit, he made no
attempt to flee, but rode boldly into York, where he found his old friend
Arinbjörn. With him he went straight to Erik, like the reckless fellow he
was.
"What do you expect from me?" asked Erik. "You deserve nothing but death
at my hands."
"Death let it be, then," said the bold viking, in his reckless manner.
Gunhild on seeing him was eager for his blood. She had hated him so long
that she hotly demanded that he should be killed on the spot. Erik, less
bloodthirsty, gave him his life for one night more, and Arinbjörn begged
him to spend the night in composing a song in Erik's honor, hoping that
in this way he might win his life.
Egil promised to do so and his friend brought him food and drink, bidding
him do his best. Anxious to know how he was progressing Arinbjörn visited
him in the night.
"How goes the song?" he asked.
"Not a line of it is ready," answered Egil. "A swallow has been sitting
in the window all the night, screaming and disturbing me, and do what I
would I could not drive it away."
At that Arinbjörn darted into the hall, where he saw in the dim light a
woman running hastily away. Going back he found that the swallow had
flown. He was sure now that Queen Gunhild had changed herself into a
swallow by sorcery, and for the remainder of the night he kept watch
outside that the bird should not return. When morning broke he found that
Egil had finished his song.
Determined to save his friend's life if he could, he armed himself and
his men and went with Egil to the palace of the king, where he asked Erik
for Egil's life as a reward for his devotion to him when others had
deserted him.
Erik made no reply, and then Arinbjörn cried out:
"This I will say. Egil shall not die while I or one of my men remain
alive."
"Egil has well deserved death," replied Erik, "but I cannot buy his death
at that price."
As he stopped speaking Egil began to sing, chanting his ode in tones that
rang loudly through the hall. Famed as a poet, his death song was one of
the best he had ever composed, and it praised Erik's valor in all the
full, wild strains of the northern verse.
Erik heard the song through with unmoved face. When it was done he said:
"Your song is a noble one, and your friend's demand for your life is
nobler still. Nor can I be the dastard to kill a man who puts himself of
his own will into my hands. You shall depart unharmed. But do not think
that I or my sons forgive you, and from the moment you leave this hall
never come again under my eyes or the eyes of my sons."
Egil thus won his life by his song, which became known as the "Ransom of
the Head." Another of his songs, called "The Loss of the Son," is held to
be the most beautiful in all the literature of Iceland. He afterwards
lived long and had many more adventures, and in the end died in his bed
in Iceland when he was over ninety years of age. Erik died in battle many
years earlier, and Gunhild then went to Denmark with her sons. She was to
make more trouble for Norway before she died.
_THE SEA-KINGS AND THEIR DARING FEATS._
From the word _vik_, or bay, comes the word viking, long used to
designate the sea-rovers of the Northland, the bold Norse wanderers who
for centuries made their way to the rich lands of the south on plundering
raids. Beginning by darting out suddenly from hiding places in bays or
river mouths to attack passing craft, they in the end became daring
scourers of the seas and won for themselves kingdoms and dominions in the
settled realms of the south.
Nothing was known of them in the early days. The people of southern
Europe in the first Christian centuries hardly knew of the existence of
the race of fair-skinned and light-haired barbarians who dwelt in the
great peninsula of the north. It was not until near the year 800 B.C.
that these bold brigands learned that riches awaited those who dared
seize it on the shores of France, England, and more southern lands. Then
they came in fleets and spread terror wherever they appeared. For several
centuries the realms of civilization trembled before their very name.
"From the fury of the Northmen, Good Lord deliver us!" prayed the
priests, and the people joined fervently in the prayer.