CRUSADER.
The new King Olaf, his brother Magnus having soon died, bore rule in
Norway for some five-and-twenty years. Rule soft and gentle, not like
his father's, and inclining rather to improvement in the arts and
elegancies than to anything severe or dangerously laborious. A
slim-built, witty-talking, popular and pretty man, with uncommonly
bright eyes, and hair like floss silk: they called him Olaf _Kyrre_ (the
Tranquil or Easygoing).
The ceremonials of the palace were much improved by him. Palace still
continued to be built of huge logs pyramidally sloping upwards, with
fireplace in the middle of the floor, and no egress for smoke or ingress
for light except right overhead, which, in bad weather, you could shut,
or all but shut, with a lid. Lid originally made of mere opaque board,
but changed latterly into a light frame, covered (_glazed_, so to speak)
with entrails of animals, clarified into something of pellucidity. All
this Olaf, I hope, further perfected, as he did the placing of the court
ladies, court officials, and the like; but I doubt if the luxury of a
glass window were ever known to him, or a cup to drink from that was
not made of metal or horn. In fact it is chiefly for his son's sake I
mention him here; and with the son, too, I have little real concern, but
only a kind of fantastic.
This son bears the name of Magnus _Barfod_ (Barefoot, or Bareleg); and
if you ask why so, the answer is: He was used to appear in the streets
of Nidaros (Trondhjem) now and then in complete Scotch Highland dress.
Authentic tartan plaid and philibeg, at that epoch,--to the wonder of
Trondhjem and us! The truth is, he had a mighty fancy for those Hebrides
and other Scotch possessions of his; and seeing England now quite
impossible, eagerly speculated on some conquest in Ireland as next
best. He did, in fact, go diligently voyaging and inspecting among
those Orkney and Hebridian Isles; putting everything straight there,
appointing stringent authorities, jarls,--nay, a king, "Kingdom of the
Suderoer" (Southern Isles, now called _Sodor_),--and, as first king,
Sigurd, his pretty little boy of nine years. All which done, and some
quarrel with Sweden fought out, he seriously applied himself to visiting
in a still more emphatic manner; namely, to invading, with his best
skill and strength, the considerable virtual or actual kingdom he had
in Ireland, intending fully to enlarge it to the utmost limits of the
Island if possible. He got prosperously into Dublin (guess A.D. 1102).
Considerable authority he already had, even among those poor Irish
Kings, or kinglets, in their glibs and yellow-saffron gowns; still more,
I suppose, among the numerous Norse Principalities there. "King Murdog,
King of Ireland," says the Chronicle of Man, "had obliged himself, every
Yule-day, to take a pair of shoes, hang them over his shoulder, as your
servant does on a journey, and walk across his court, at bidding and in
presence of Magnus Barefoot's messenger, by way of homage to the said
King." Murdog on this greater occasion did whatever homage could be
required of him; but that, though comfortable, was far from satisfying
the great King's ambitious mind. The great King left Murdog; left his
own Dublin; marched off westward on a general conquest of Ireland.
Marched easily victorious for a time; and got, some say, into the wilds
of Connaught, but there saw himself beset by ambuscades and wild Irish
countenances intent on mischief; and had, on the sudden, to draw up for
battle;--place, I regret to say, altogether undiscoverable to me; known
only that it was boggy in the extreme. Certain enough, too certain and
evident, Magnus Barefoot, searching eagerly, could find no firm footing
there; nor, fighting furiously up to the knees or deeper, any result but
honorable death! Date is confidently marked "24 August, 1103,"--as if
people knew the very day of the month. The natives did humanely give
King Magnus Christian burial. The remnants of his force, without further
molestation, found their ships on the Coast of Ulster; and sailed
home,--without conquest of Ireland; nay perhaps, leaving royal Murdog
disposed to be relieved of his procession with the pair of shoes.
Magnus Barefoot left three sons, all kings at once, reigning peaceably
together. But to us, at present, the only noteworthy one of them was
Sigurd; who, finding nothing special to do at home, left his brothers
to manage for him, and went off on a far Voyage, which has rendered him
distinguishable in the crowd. Voyage through the Straits of Gibraltar,
on to Jerusalem, thence to Constantinople; and so home through Russia,
shining with such renown as filled all Norway for the time being. A
King called Sigurd Jorsalafarer (Jerusalemer) or Sigurd the Crusader
henceforth. His voyage had been only partially of the Viking type;
in general it was of the Royal-Progress kind rather; Vikingism only
intervening in cases of incivility or the like. His reception in
the Courts of Portugal, Spain, Sicily, Italy, had been honorable and
sumptuous. The King of Jerusalem broke out into utmost splendor and
effusion at sight of such a pilgrim; and Constantinople did its
highest honors to such a Prince of Vaeringers. And the truth is, Sigurd
intrinsically was a wise, able, and prudent man; who, surviving both his
brothers, reigned a good while alone in a solid and successful way. He
shows features of an original, independent-thinking man; something
of ruggedly strong, sincere, and honest, with peculiarities that are
amiable and even pathetic in the character and temperament of him;
as certainly, the course of life he took was of his own choosing, and
peculiar enough. He happens furthermore to be, what he least of all
could have chosen or expected, the last of the Haarfagr Genealogy that
had any success, or much deserved any, in this world. The last of the
Haarfagrs, or as good as the last! So that, singular to say, it is in
reality, for one thing only that Sigurd, after all his crusadings and
wonderful adventures, is memorable to us here: the advent of an
Irish gentleman called "Gylle Krist" (Gil-christ, Servant of Christ),
who,--not over welcome, I should think, but (unconsciously) big with the
above result,--appeared in Norway, while King Sigurd was supreme. Let us
explain a little.
This Gylle Krist, the unconsciously fatal individual, who "spoke Norse
imperfectly," declared himself to be the natural son of whilom Magnus
Barefoot; born to him there while engaged in that unfortunate "Conquest
of Ireland." "Here is my mother come with me," said Gilchrist, "who
declares my real baptismal name to have been Harald, given me by that
great King; and who will carry the red-hot ploughshares or do any
reasonable ordeal in testimony of these facts. I am King Sigurd's
veritable half-brother: what will King Sigurd think it fair to do with
me?" Sigurd clearly seems to have believed the man to be speaking truth;
and indeed nobody to have doubted but he was. Sigurd said, "Honorable
sustenance shalt thou have from me here. But, under pain of extirpation,
swear that, neither in my time, nor in that of my young son Magnus,
wilt thou ever claim any share in this Government." Gylle swore; and
punctually kept his promise during Sigurd's reign. But during Magnus's,
he conspicuously broke it; and, in result, through many reigns, and
during three or four generations afterwards, produced unspeakable
contentions, massacrings, confusions in the country he had adopted.
There are reckoned, from the time of Sigurd's death (A.D. 1130), about a
hundred years of civil war: no king allowed to distinguish himself by a
solid reign of well-doing, or by any continuing reign at all,--sometimes
as many as four kings simultaneously fighting;--and in Norway, from sire
to son, nothing but sanguinary anarchy, disaster and bewilderment;
a Country sinking steadily as if towards absolute ruin. Of all which
frightful misery and discord Irish Gylle, styled afterwards King
Harald Gylle, was, by ill destiny and otherwise, the visible origin: an
illegitimate Irish Haarfagr who proved to be his own destruction, and
that of the Haarfagr kindred altogether!
Sigurd himself seems always to have rather favored Gylle, who was a
cheerful, shrewd, patient, witty, and effective fellow; and had at first
much quizzing to endure, from the younger kind, on account of his Irish
way of speaking Norse, and for other reasons. One evening, for example,
while the drink was going round, Gylle mentioned that the Irish had a
wonderful talent of swift running and that there were among them people
who could keep up with the swiftest horse. At which, especially from
young Magnus, there were peals of laughter; and a declaration from the
latter that Gylle and he would have it tried to-morrow morning! Gylle in
vain urged that he had not himself professed to be so swift a runner
as to keep up with the Prince's horses; but only that there were men in
Ireland who could. Magnus was positive; and, early next morning, Gylle
had to be on the ground; and the race, naturally under heavy bet,
actually went off. Gylle started parallel to Magnus's stirrup; ran like
a very roe, and was clearly ahead at the goal. "Unfair," said Magnus;
"thou must have had hold of my stirrup-leather, and helped thyself
along; we must try it again." Gylle ran behind the horse this second
time; then at the end, sprang forward; and again was fairly in ahead.
"Thou must have held by the tail," said Magnus; "not by fair running was
this possible; we must try a third time!" Gylle started ahead of Magnus
and his horse, this third time; kept ahead with increasing distance,
Magnus galloping his very best; and reached the goal more palpably
foremost than ever. So that Magnus had to pay his bet, and other
damage and humiliation. And got from his father, who heard of it soon
afterwards, scoffing rebuke as a silly fellow, who did not know the
worth of men, but only the clothes and rank of them, and well deserved
what he had got from Gylle. All the time King Sigurd lived, Gylle seems
to have had good recognition and protection from that famous man; and,
indeed, to have gained favor all round, by his quiet social demeanor and
the qualities he showed.