daring sons of the north, but the small chiefs of that period preyed upon
each other, harrying their neighbors and letting distant lands alone. But
as the power of the chiefs, and their ability to protect themselves
increased, this mode of gaining wealth and fame lost its ease and
attraction and the rovers began to rove farther afield.
Sea-kings they called themselves. On land the ruler of a province might
be called either earl or king, but the earl who went abroad with his
followers on warlike excursions was content with no less name than king,
and the chiefs who set out on plundering cruises became from the first
known as sea-kings. Pirates and freebooters we would call them to-day,
but they were held in high distinction in their native land, and some of
the most cruel of them, on their return home, became men of influence,
with all the morality and sense of honor known in those early days. Their
lives of ravage and outrage won them esteem at home and the daring and
successful sea-king ranked in fame with the noblest of the home-staying
chiefs. We have seen how King Erik began his career as a viking and ended
it in the same pursuit; how Rollo, a king's son, adopted the same
profession; and from this it may be seen that the term was one of honor
instead of disgrace.
From all the lands of the north they came, these dreaded sons of the sea,
from Norway, Sweden, and Denmark alike, fierce heathens they who cared
nought for church or priest, but liked best to rob chapels and
monasteries, for there the greatest stores of gold and silver could be
found. When the churches were plundered they often left them in flames,
as they also did the strong cities they captured and sacked. The small,
light boats with which they dared the sea in its wrath were able to go
far up the rivers, and wherever these fierce and bloodthirsty rovers
appeared wild panic spread far around. So fond were they of sword-thrust
and battle that one viking crew would often challenge another for the
pure delight of fighting. A torment and scourge they were wherever they
appeared.
The first we hear in history of the sea-kings is in the year 787, when a
small party of them landed on the English coast. In 794 came another
flock of these vultures of the sea, who robbed a church and a monastery,
plundering and killing, and being killed in their turn when a storm
wrecked their ships and threw them on shore. As a good monk writes of
them: "The heathen came from the northern countries to Britain like
stinging wasps, roamed about like savage wolves, robbing, biting, killing
not only horses, sheep, and cattle, but also priests, acolytes, monks,
and nuns."
The Norsemen had found a gold mine in the south and from this time on
they worked it with fierce hands. Few dared face them, and even in the
days of the great Charlemagne they ravaged the coast lands of France.
Once, when the great emperor was in one of his cities on the
Mediterranean coast, a fleet of the swift viking ships, known by their
square sails, entered the harbor. Soon word was brought that they had
landed and were plundering. Who they were the people knew not, some
saying that they were Jews, others Africans, and others that they were
British merchants.
"No merchants they," said the emperor. "Those ships do not bring us
goods, but fierce foes, bloody fighters from the north."
The warriors around him at once seized their weapons and hurried to the
shore, but the vikings had learned that the great emperor was in the city
and, not daring to face him, had sought their ships and spread their
sails again. Tears came to the eyes of Charlemagne as he watched them in
their outward flight. He said to those around him:
"It is not for fear that these brigands can do me any harm that I weep,
but for their daring to show themselves on this coast while I am alive.
Their coming makes me foresee and fear the harm they may do to my
descendants."
This story may be one of those legends which the monks were fond of
telling, but it serves to show how the dread Norsemen were feared. France
was one of their chief fields of ravage and slaughter. First coming in
single ships, to rob and flee, they soon began to come in fleets and grew
daring enough to attack and sack cities. Hastings, one of the most
renowned of them all, did not hesitate to attack the greatest cities of
the south.
In 841 this bold freebooter sailed up the Loire with a large fleet, took
and burned the city of Amboise, and laid siege to Tours. But here the
inhabitants, aided, it is said, by the bones of their patron saint, drove
him off. Four years later he made an attack on Paris, and as fortune
followed his flag he grew so daring that he sought to capture the city of
Rome and force the Pope to crown him emperor.
For an account of this remarkable adventure of the bold Hastings see the
article, "The Raids of the Sea-Rovers," in the German volume of
"Historical Tales." In that account are also given the chief exploits of
the vikings in France and Germany. We shall therefore confine ourselves
in the remainder of this article to their operations in other lands, and
especially in Ireland.
This country was a common field for the depredations of the Norse rovers.
For some reason not very clear to us the early vikings did not trouble
England greatly, but for many years they spread terror through the sister
isle, and in the year 838 Thorgisl, one of their boldest leaders, came
with a fleet of one hundred and twenty ships, with which he attacked and
captured the city of Dublin, and afterwards, as an old author tells us,
he conquered all Ireland, securing his conquest with stone forts
surrounded with deep moats.
But the Irish at length got rid of their conqueror by a stratagem. It was
through love that the sea-king was lost. Bewitched with the charms of
the fair daughter of Maelsechnail, one of the petty kings of the land,
he bade this chieftain to send her to him, with fifteen young maidens in
her train. He agreed to meet her on an island in Loch Erne with as many
Norsemen of high degree.
Maelsechnail obeyed, but his maidens were beardless young men, dressed
like women but armed with sharp daggers. Thorgisl and his men, taken by
surprise, were attacked and slain. The Irish chief had once before asked
Thorgisl how he should rid himself of some troublesome birds that had
invaded the island. "Destroy their nests," said the Norseman. It was wise
advice, and Maelsechnail put it in effect against the nests of the
conquerors, destroying their stone strongholds, and killing or driving
them away, with the aid of his fellow chieftains.
Thus for a time Ireland was freed. It was conquered again by Olaf the
White, who in 852 defeated some Danes who had taken Dublin, and then,
like Thorgisl, began to build castles and tax the people. Two other
viking leaders won kingdoms in Ireland, but Olaf was the most powerful of
them all, and the kingdom founded by him lasted for three hundred and
fifty years. From Dublin Olaf sailed to Scotland and England, the booty
he won filling two hundred ships.
The sea-rovers did not confine their voyages to settled lands. Bold ocean
wanderers, fearless of man on shore and tempest on the waves, they
visited all the islands of the north and dared the perils of the unknown
sea. They rounded the North Cape and made their way into the White Sea as
early as 750. The Faroe, the Orkney and the Shetland Islands were often
visited by them after 825, and in 874 they discovered Iceland, which had
been reached and settled by Irishmen or Scots about 800. The Norsemen
found here only some Irish hermits and monks, and these, disturbed in
their peaceful retreat by the turbulent newcomers, made their way back to
Ireland and left the Norsemen lords of the land. From Iceland the rovers
reached Greenland, which was settled in 986, and about the year 1000 they
discovered North America, at a place they named Vinland.
Such is, briefly told, the story of the early Norse wanderers. They had a
later tale, of which we have told part in their conquest of Ireland.
Though at first they came with a few ships, and were content to attack a
town or a monastery, they soon grew more daring and their forces larger.
A number of them would now fortify themselves on some coast elevation and
make it a centre for plundering raids into the surrounding country. At a
later date many of them ceased to pose as pirates and took the rôle of
invaders and conquerors, storming and taking cities and founding
governments in the invaded land.
Such was the work of Thorgisl and Olaf in Ireland and of Rollo in
Normandy. England was a frequent field of invasion after 833, which
continued until 851, when King Ethelwulf defeated them with great
slaughter. Fifteen years later they came again, these new invaders being
almost all Danes. During all his reign Alfred the Great fought with them,
but in spite of his efforts they gained a footing in the island, becoming
its masters in the north and east. A century later, in 1016, Canute, the
king of Denmark, completed the conquest and became king of all England.
This is not the whole story of the sea-kings, whose daring voyages and
raids made up much of the history of those centuries. One of the most
important events in viking history took place in 862, when three brother
chiefs, probably from Sweden, who had won fame in the Baltic Sea, were
invited by the Russian tribes south of Lake Ladoga to come and rule over
them. They did so, making Novgorod their capital. From this grew the
empire of Russia, which was ruled over by the descendants of Rurik, the
principal of these chiefs, until 1598.
Other vikings made their way southward through Russia and, sailing down
the Dnieper, put Constantinople in peril. Only a storm which scattered
their fleet saved the great city from capture. Three times later they
appeared before Constantinople, twice (in 904 and 945) being bought off
by the emperors with large sums of money. Later on the emperors had a
picked body-guard of Varangians, as they called the Northmen, and kept
these till the fall of the city in 1453. It was deemed a great honor in
the north to serve in this choice cohort at Myklegaard (Great City), and
those who returned from there doubtless carried many of the elements of
civilization to the Scandinavian shores.
To some of these Varangians was due the conquest of Sicily by the
Northmen. They were in the army sent from Constantinople to conquer that
island, and seeing how goodly a land it was they aided in its final
conquest, which was made by Robert Guiscard, a noble of Normandy, whose
son Roger took the title of "King of Sicily and Italy." Thus it was that
the viking voyages led within a few centuries to the founding of kingdoms
under Norse rulers in England, Ireland, Sicily, Russia, and Normandy in
France.
_HAAKON THE GOOD AND THE SONS OF GUNHILD._
We have told how King Haakon succeeded his brother, Erik Blood-Axe, on
the throne, and how, from his kindly and gentle nature, people called him
Haakon the Good. There were other sons and several grandsons of Harold
the Fair-Haired in the kingdom, but the new king treated them with
friendliness and let them rule as minor kings under him.
He dealt with the peasants also in the same kindly spirit, giving them
back their lands and relieving them of the tax which Harold had laid. But
he taxed them all in another way, dividing the country into marine
districts, each of which was required to supply the king, on his demand,
with a fully equipped warship. Yet as this was for the defence of the
country, the people did not look on it as oppressive. And as Norway had a
long mountainous coast, and important events were often long in becoming
known, he gave orders that the approach of an enemy should be made known
by signal fires lighted all along the coast.
Haakon made other wise laws, in which he took the advice of the ablest
men of the kingdom. But now we have to speak of the most striking event
in the new king's career. Norway at that time was a haunt of idolatry.
Men worshipped Odin and a host of other gods, and there was not a
Christian in the whole land except the king himself, who had been brought
up in the new faith by his foster-father, King Athelstan of England.
An earnest Christian, he looked with sorrow on the rude worship and
heathen belief of his people, but not until he had been many years on the
throne did he venture to interfere with it. Then, about 950, when he had
won the love of them all, he took steps to carry out his long-cherished
desire.
Sending to England for a bishop and a number of priests, the king issued
a decree in which the people were forbidden to make sacrifices to the old
gods and ordered to accept the Christian faith.
This came like a thunderbolt to the worshippers of the old gods. To bid a
whole nation to give up at a word the religion which they had cherished
from childhood and which their fathers had held for generations before
them was too much to demand. The king brought together a concourse of the
people and spoke to them of his wish and purpose, but they had no answer
to make except that the matter must be settled by their legal assembly.
When the _thing_, or assembly, was called into session, a great body of
the people were present, for never had so important a question been laid
before them. Earnest and imploring was the speech made by the king, in
which he warmly asked them to accept the God of the Christians and give
up their heathen idols of wood and stone.
These words were followed by an angry murmur from the multitude, and
many dark looks were bent upon the rash monarch. Then a peasant leader,
Aasbjörn of Medalhus, stepped out from the throng and spoke:
"When you, King Haakon, first called us here before you and we took you
for our king, it was with deep gladness, as if heaven had opened to us.
But was it liberty we gained, or do you wish to make thralls of us once
more, that you ask us to give up the faith of our fathers and forefathers
for the new and unknown one you offer? Sturdy men they were, and their
faith did well for them and has done well for us. We have learned to love
you well and have always kept and will always keep the laws made by you
and accepted by us. But in this thing which you now demand we cannot
follow. If you are so resolved upon it that your mind cannot be changed,
then we shall be forced to part from you and choose a new chief who will
support us in worshipping our fathers' gods. Choose, O king, what you
will do, before this assembly has dispersed."
So loud were the shouts of approval with which this speech was greeted
that not a word could be heard. Then, when quiet reigned again, Earl
Sigurd, who had spoken aside with Haakon, rose and said that the king had
no wish to lose their friendship and would yield to their wishes. This
was not enough to overcome the distrust of the peasants. They next
demanded that he should take part in the sacrifices to be given and in
the feast to follow. This he felt obliged to do, though he quieted his
conscience by making the sign of the cross.
When the next Yuletide sacrifice came Haakon was required to eat
horse-flesh at the feast and this time was forbidden to make the sign of
the cross when he drank the usual toasts to the ancient gods of Norway.
This was a humiliation that cut the proud monarch deeply and it was with
an angry soul he left, saying to his attendants that when he came back it
would be with an army to punish those who had thus insulted his faith.
Back he did not come, for new troubles were gathering around him.
To learn the source of these troubles we must return to the story of Erik
Blood-Axe and Gunhild, his wicked wife. After Erik's death that
mischief-loving woman sought Denmark with her sons, who grew up to become
brave warriors and daring viking rovers, infesting the coast of Norway
and giving its king and earls all the trouble they could. At length,
backed by Harold Bluetooth, the king of Denmark, their piratical raids
changed to open war, and they invaded Norway, hoping to win their
father's old kingdom for themselves.
A crisis came in 955. In that year the sons of Erik appeared so suddenly
with a large fleet that they took King Haakon by surprise. He had with
him only a small force, the signal fires had not been lighted, and the
enemy were close at hand before he could prepare to meet them.
"What shall we do?" he asked his men. "Shall we stay and fight, or draw
back and gather men?"
The answer came from an old peasant, Egil Woolsack:
"Often have I fought, King Haakon, with King Harold, your father. Whether
the foe was stronger or weaker the victory was always his. Never did he
ask his friends if he should run; nor need you, for we are ready to fight
and think that we have a brave chieftain for our leader."
"You speak well and wisely, Egil," said the king. "It is not my wish to
run, and with your aid I am ready to face the foe."
"Good words those!" cried Egil joyously. "It has been so long since I saw
the flash of sword that I feared I would die in my bed of old age, though
it has been my hope to fall in battle at my chieftain's back. Now will my
wish be gained."
To land came the sons of Erik, having six men to Haakon's one. Seeing how
great were the odds, old Egil tried strategy, leading ten
standard-bearers to a hidden spot in the rear of the hostile army and
leaving them there in ambush. When the armies had met and the fighting
was under way, he led these men up a sloping hill until the tops of their
standards could be seen above its summit. He had placed them far apart,
so that when the Danes saw the waving banners it looked like a long line
of new troops coming upon them. With sudden alarm and a cry of terror
they fled towards their ships.
Gamle, their leader, was quick to discover the stratagem, and called on
them to stop, that it was all a trick; but nothing could check their
panic flight, and he was swept along with them to the beach. Here a stand
was made, but Haakon rushed upon them in a furious attack in which old
Egil had his wish, for he fell in the storm of sword blows, winning the
death he craved. Victory rested on the king's banners and his foes fled
to their ships, Gamle, their leader, being drowned in the flight.
For six years after this the land lay at peace. King Haakon continued a
Christian and many of his friends joined him in the new faith. But he was
too wise and gentle to attempt again to force his belief upon his people
and the worship of the heathen gods went on. All the people, nobles and
peasants alike, loved their king dearly and he would have ended his reign
in a peaceful old age but for his foes without the kingdom. This is the
way in which the end came.
In the summer of the year 961, when Haakon had been twenty-six years on
the throne, he with many guests was at feast in the royal mansion of
Fitje, in Hördaland. While at table a sentinel brought in the alarming
news that a large fleet of ships was sailing up the fiord.
By the king's side sat Eyvnid, his nephew, who was a famous scald, or
bard. They rose and looked out on the fiord.
"What ships are they, of friends or of foes?" asked the king.
The scald replied in a verse, in which he sang that the sons of Erik were
coming again.
"Once more they take us unawares," said Haakon to his men. "They are many
and we are few. Never yet have we faced such odds. The danger lies before
you. Are you ready to meet it? I am loath to flee before any force, but I
leave it to the wise among you to decide."
Eyvnid sang another verse, to the effect that it would be ill counsel to
advise a man like King Haakon to flee from the sons of Gunhild the
sorceress.
"That is a man's song," cried the king, "and what you say is what I
wish."
All around him the warriors shouted their war-cry, and while they ran for
their weapons he put on his armor, seized his sword and shield, and
placed on his head a golden helmet that shone brightly in the sun. Never
had he looked more like a born king, with his noble and inspired
countenance and the bright hair streaming down from under his helmet.
The battle that followed was fierce and bloody. Harold, Gunhild's third
son, commanded the invaders, who far outnumbered Haakon's small force.
And now there was no Egil to defeat the foe by stratagem, but the battle
was hand to hand and face to face, with stroke of sword and thrust of
spear, the war-shout of the fighters and the death-wail of the fallen.
King Haakon that day showed himself a true and heroic warrior. As the
battle grew fiercer his spirit rose higher, and when Eyvnid the scald
greeted him with a warlike verse, he answered with another. But the
midsummer heat growing hard to bear, he flung off his armor and fought
with only his strong right arm for shield. The arrows had now been all
shot, the spears all hurled, and the ranks met hand to hand and sword to
sword, in desperate affray.
In the front rank stood the king, his golden helmet making him a shining
mark for the warriors of the foe.
"Your helmet makes you a target for the Danish spears," cried Eyvnid, and
he drew a hood over it to hide its gleam. Skreyja, Harold's uncle, who
was storming onward towards the king, now lost sight of him and cried
out:
"Where is the Norse king? Has he drawn back in fear? Is he of the golden
helmet a craven?"
"Keep on as you are coming, if you wish to meet the Norsemen's king,"
shouted Haakon, throwing down his shield and grasping his sword with both
hands, as he sprang out before them all. Skreyja bounded towards him and
struck a furious blow, but it was turned aside by a Norse warrior and at
the same instant Haakon's sword cleft the foeman's head down to the
shoulders.
This kingly stroke gave new spirit to the Norsemen and they rushed with
double fury upon the foe, whom the fall of their best warrior filled with
fear. Back to the beach they were pressed, many being slain, many
drowned, a few only, Harold among them, reaching the ships by swimming.
The Norsemen had won against fearful odds, but their king was in deadly
peril. In the pursuit he had been struck in the right arm by an arrow
with an oddly-shaped head, and do what they would, the flow of blood
could not be stopped. It was afterwards said that Gunhild the sorceress
had bewitched the arrow and sent it with orders to use it only against
King Haakon.
In those days it was easy to have men believe tales like that, but,
witchcraft or not, the blood still ran and the king grew weaker. As night
came death seemed at hand and one of his friends offered to take his body
to England, after his death, that he might be laid in Christian soil.
"Not so," said Haakon. "Heathen are my people and I have lived among them
like a heathen. See then that I am laid in the grave like a heathen."
Thus he died, and he was buried as he wished, while all men mourned his
death, even his foes; for before breathing his last he bade his men to
send a ship after the sons of Gunhild; asking them to come back and rule
the kingdom. He had no sons, he said, and his daughter could not take the
throne.
Thus death claimed the noblest of the Norsemen, at once heathen and
Christian, but in his life and deeds as in his death a great and good
man.
_EARL HAAKON AND THE JOMSVIKINGS._
Chief among the nobles of Haakon the Good, of Norway, was Earl Sigurd of
Hlade; and first among those who followed him was Earl Haakon, Sigurd's
son. After the death of Haakon the Good, the sons of Gunhild became the
masters of Norway, where they ruled like tyrants, murdering Sigurd, whom
they most feared. This made the young Earl Haakon their bitter foe.
A young man then, of twenty-five, handsome, able in mind and body, kindly
in disposition, and a daring warrior, he was just the man to contend with
the tyrant murderers. When he was born Haakon the Good had poured water
on his head and named him after himself and he was destined to live to
the level of the honor thus given him.
It is not our purpose to tell how, with the aid of the king of Denmark,
he drove the sons of Gunhild from the realm, and how, as the sagas tell,
the wicked old queen was enticed to Denmark by the king, under promise of
marriage, and by his orders was drowned in a swamp. Her powers of sorcery
did not avail her then, if this story is true.