was born at Smaalen, in Norway, in the summer of 1204, the country was
divided into two great parties. In the south were gathered the
Croziermen, or churchmen, supported by the King of Denmark, while
further north lay the followers of old Sverrir, who had been nicknamed
'Birchlegs' from the gaiters of birch-bark which they always wore. In
those days men needed a king to keep order, and after the death of
Hacon, son of Sverrir, the great council, called the Thing, met to
consult about the matter. The first king they chose died in a few
months, and then Ingi, his kinsman, was put in his place. But when the
child of Hacon and Inga proved to be a boy the Birchlegs declared that
he and none other should rule over them. Now the Croziermen were spread
all over the south and east of Norway, and, as Smaalen was right in the
middle of them, a few Birchlegs went secretly to Inga, the child's
mother, and told her that for a time the baby must be hidden away so
that no man should know where he was; for they feared King Ingi.
So Thrond the priest took the boy and gave him the name of his father,
and his wife cared for him as her own, and no one knew he was a king's
son, save only herself and her two boys. And Inga his mother abode close
by.
In this manner a year passed over, and when Christmas was coming for the
second time whispers reached the ear of Thrond the priest, and he made a
plan with Erlend, kinsman of Sverrir, that Hacon should leave the
country of the Croziermen and go north. Then they two took the child and
Inga his mother and journeyed by night through strange places till on
Christmas Eve they reached a place called Hammar, where they met some
Birchlegs, who told them that news of their flight had spread abroad,
and that Croziermen were spread over the mountains. Worse than all, Ivar
the bishop was at Hammar, and he, as everyone knew, was a sworn enemy to
the race of Sverrir. Thrond and Erlend looked at each other as the
Birchlegs spoke. It was what they had dreaded, and little surprised they
felt when next day arrived a messenger from Ivar the bishop claiming
kinship with the boy—which was true—and inviting Inga and her son to
spend the feast of Yule, for so Christmas was called, with him. But, by
counsel of the Birchlegs, an answer was sent saying that the child and
his mother needed rest after journeying, and would stay where they were
till Yule was past, and after that they would come to the bishop's
house. When Ivar's messenger had ridden out of sight, the Birchlegs rose
up swiftly and hid Hacon and his mother in a farm among the hills, while
they bade all the Birchlegs that were scattered for many miles round to
hold themselves ready. On Christmas night Inga wrapped the baby warmly
up in furs, and, giving him to Erlend to carry, they set out from the
farm, and took a path that led eastwards through mountains and forests,
and on each side of Hacon walked Thorstein the fighter and Skerwald the
Shrimp, swiftest of all men on snow shoes, so that, should the
Croziermen try to capture him, he might be borne away out of their
reach.
[Illustration: INGA TRUSTS THE BABY TO ERLEND]
For many nights and days they tramped forwards, lying in caves or
scooping themselves huts in the snow. Not a house was to be seen
anywhere; and, though Inga had a brave heart, she sometimes wondered if
the guides knew the way any better than she did. At length they came to
a barn, and here they kindled some wood by means of a fire-stick, but
that only melted the snow on the broken roof till it was more
uncomfortable inside than out. Their food had all been eaten that
morning, and they had nothing to give little Hacon except the water of
the snow. But he did not seem to mind, and only laughed when the drops
fell on his nose. He was ever the merriest baby. A day after leaving the
barn they struggled through snow so hard that it had to be broken with
the spears of the Birchlegs, and before them lay a farm, where they
received a hearty welcome, and were given good food to eat and soft beds
to lie on. Then the farmer set them on horses and gave them guides, and
they turned northwards towards Drontheim. On the journey many Birchlegs
joined them, and some of them brought news that the Croziermen had
started in pursuit, but the snowdrifts through which Inga and Hacon had
won their way proved too deep for _them_, and they went back to Erling
Stone-wall, whom they had chosen king.
---------------------
Now Ingi, kinsman of little Hacon, lay at Drontheim with a large army,
when one day a man entered his hall and told him that his brother, who
had been hunting bears in the mountains, had seen from afar a body of
men marching towards the city, and the people of the hill country
whispered that a king's son was with them. 'What king's son?' the young
man had asked, but that no one could tell him. There were also tales of
another force from further east; but all was uncertain, so Ingi the king
waited for the return of his messengers, and spread tents for himself
and his bodyguard, till the men came back.
'Well, what tidings?' said Ingi, as they entered his tent.
'Here are two guides who have travelled far,' answered the messengers
pointing to the Birchlegs, 'they will tell you their story'; and so they
did from the beginning, and that the child in their company was Hacon,
grandson of Sverrir the king. Then Ingi gave thanks that the boy had
come safe through such perils of winter and wild beasts, and bade the
men sit down to eat and drink, and said that he himself would tarry
where he was till Hacon his kinsman was brought to him. And when the boy
hove in sight Ingi strode out to meet him, and took him in his arms and
kissed him, bidding him and his mother welcome, and he was good to them
both all the days of his life. Perhaps, when he grew older, Hacon may
have heard the tale of another little boy across the seas named Arthur,
like himself the heir to a kingdom, who, only a year before the birth of
Hacon, had been done to death by John, his uncle, who coveted his crown.
But no such thought ever entered the mind of Ingi.
It was strange for Hacon to wake up to find himself lying on soft
cushions, and broad beams over his head instead of the stars, or the
brilliant, rushing, Northern Lights. Sometimes he would raise himself on
his elbow and listen with bent head, dreaming that he heard the soft pad
of a wolf's foot, or that if he looked he would see a pair of bright
eyes staring at him from behind a bush, as he had often done in the
mountain forests. Then he remembered that wolves did not come into
palaces, and, curling himself up comfortably, went to sleep again. All
that winter and the next he stayed in Drontheim, and every day the
Birchlegs visited him and told him stories of his father and
grandfather, which the boy liked to hear, but sometimes found beyond his
understanding. But in the second spring after his coming, earl Hacon,
brother of Ingi, took him to his castle at Bergen, and he loved him
greatly, and would say to his men that little Hacon was in truth king of
Norway. That summer, while earl Hacon was away, the Croziermen under
their new king Philip besieged Bergen, and the boy fell into their
hands, and some thought of making him king instead of Philip. Most
likely Philip knew of this, and it would have been quite easy for him to
kill Hacon, as King John across the seas would have done. Yet the
Norsemen, though fierce in battle, were not apt to slay children, so he
treated Hacon kindly, and in three days yielded him up to Thorir the
archbishop. With him Hacon lived till his kinsman the earl came back
from fighting; then he went again to his house, and remained with him
always either on land or sea.
Of the two, Hacon loved best being on the sea, and when he was four the
earl built a splendid ship, larger than any which had sailed in those
waters. Its prow was high out of the water and carved with a raven's
head, and inside there were thirty-one benches for the rowers to sit on,
who wielded the great long oars. Of course it was very important to find
a good name for such a splendid vessel, and Hacon and the earl consulted
daily about it, but at length they agreed that none was so fitting as
Olaf's Clinker. So 'Olaf's Clinker' it was called, and in the autumn the
two Hacons sailed in it to the Seljar Isles, and lay there all through
the great frost. Food they had in plenty, but it was very hard to use
it; their drink was a solid lump of ice, and their butter was frozen so
tight that many a knife broke its blade in two before it could cut off a
morsel for little Hacon to eat, for the men gave him of the best always.
One day the earl bade the cook bake the child a soft, thick cake of
flour, and it was brought to him where he stood listening to the tales
of the king's guard. They also were eating their food, and he watched
them biting morsels of the hard bread and after of the frozen butter.
'Give me some butter,' he said with a laugh, and the soldier chopped off
a piece and handed it to him. 'Now let us fettle the butter, Birchlegs,'
laughed he, and took the butter and folded it up in the hot cake so that
the butter melted.
'So little and so wise,' they murmured to each other, and Hacon's saying
was told throughout the army, and became a proverb in the land. All men
loved him, for he always had merry words on his tongue and took nothing
amiss. But for his years he was small, and often the Birchlegs would
take him by his head and heels and pull him out, 'to make him grow
taller,' they said, but he never grew above middle stature.
[Illustration: "To make him grow taller"]
When Hacon was seven years old the earl told him it was time he learned
something out of books, as his father had done. Hacon was willing, and
spent some time every day with the priest who was to teach him. For many
months the boy worked at his lessons, or at least so the earl thought,
as he no longer trotted at his heels like the big blue boarhound. One
evening, when the earl had come in weary from a day's hunting, and had
stretched himself in front of the huge hall fire, waiting for the skald
or poet to come and sing to him the mighty deeds of his fathers the
Vikings, Hacon ran in.
'Come hither, boy,' said the earl, 'and tell me what you are learning.'
'Chanting, lord earl,' answered Hacon.
'That was not the sort of learning I wished you to know,' replied the
earl, 'and you shall not learn it any more, but how to read and write,
for it is not a priest, nor even a bishop, that I mean you to be.'
It seems strange that though both Ingi the king and Hacon the earl loved
the boy truly, and that, as has been told, the earl often said in the
hearing of all men that if everyone had his rights the grandson of
Sverrir, and not Ingi, would rule over them, yet in this very year Hacon
the earl and Ingi the king agreed together that whichever of them lived
longest should reign over the whole of Norway, and that Hacon the child
should be set aside. A Thing was called, where the archbishops, and
bishops, and other men were present, and they declared that compact to
be good. For, said they, did not Solomon speak truly when he wrote, 'Woe
to the land whose king is a child,' and how should Hacon, Sverrir's
grandson deliver us from the hands of the Croziermen and the Danes and
keep order in the land?'
Now it happened that on the very day on which this matter was determined
by the Thing, little Hacon had been sent by request of his mother to
visit Astrida, his kinswoman, and an old Birchleg went with him. Though
it was evening when he returned, the sun was quite high in the heavens,
it being summer, and Hacon sought at once his old friend Helgi the keen,
saying that there was yet time to play one of the games they both loved.
But at the sight of him Helgi's face grew dark, and he roughly bade him
begone.
'What have I done to anger thee, my Helgi?' asked Hacon wonderingly; but
Helgi would have none of him. 'I know of nought that can have vexed
thee,' repeated Hacon; and Helgi answered:
'Why do I bid thee begone? Because to-day thy kingdom was taken from
thee and given to another man.'
'Who did this deed, and where?' said Hacon.
'It was done at the Thing,' returned Helgi, 'and those who did it were
thy kinsmen, Ingi and Hacon.'
'Ingi and Hacon,' repeated the boy and was silent for a moment. Then his
face brightened and he added, 'Well, be not wroth with _me_, Helgi. None
can tell if the deed will stand, for no spokesmen were there to plead my
cause.'
'And who are your spokesmen?' inquired Helgi.
'God and Saint Olaf,' answered Hacon, 'and to them I leave it.'
'Good luck be with thee, king's son,' said Helgi, taking him up and
kissing him.
So Hacon the child lived on in the house of the earl his kinsman, who
loved him greatly, and spurned in anger the evil counsel of one Hidi,
who offered secretly to do him to death.
'God forbid,' cried the earl, 'that I should in this manner buy the
kingdom for my son,' and he bade Hidi begone from his presence and keep
his treachery to himself. And the better to preserve the boy from harm
he had him always in his company, even when he fell sick of the illness
that was to end in his death. Hacon, who by now was ten years old,
mourned him sorely; but in the spring Ingi the king came south to
Bergen, and carried the boy northwards to Drontheim, where he sent him
to school with his son Guttorm, two years younger than himself. The boys
were good friends, and treated alike in all things. Guttorm, being most
easily moved to wrath, and often finding himself in trouble, came to
Hacon to make him a way-out, which Hacon did, many times with a jest or
a laugh, for he was gentle and slow to anger, and all men loved him.
In this year Ingi the king fell sick also, and Skuli, his brother, urged
upon him to place the crown on the head of his son Guttorm. Some men
agreed with Skuli, and the Birchlegs feared for Hacon, and desired to
bear him away with them and gather an army and fight and see who should
be king; but Hacon would not listen to the old Birchlegs, and said it
was 'unwise to set those at one another who ought to fight under the
same shield, and that he would wait, and for the present let things be.'
After all Ingi the king got well, and for two more winters he ruled as
before. But when Hacon was thirteen and Guttorm eleven a sore weakness
fell upon Ingi, and he knew that he would go out no more to battle.
Grievous was it for a man who had spent his life in faring to and fro to
be tied down to his bed; but he uttered no words of wailing, and lay
listening to the merry jests of Hacon and his steward Nicholas till he
laughed himself, and his illness felt lighter. Skuli, the king's
brother, likewise watched by him, and his friends were gathered there
also, and they pressed Ingi sore to give the kingdom into Skuli the
earl's hands. And Ingi had no strength to say them nay, and he let them
have their will, and soon he died, leaving the rule to Skuli. But the
men of Norway did not all agree as to this matter. Some wished that
Guttorm, Ingi's son, should be king, others declared that Hacon had the
best right; while the rest said that the throne of Norway was no place
for a boy, and they would have a man such as Skuli to reign over them.
For Skuli, though filled with ambition and a man whose word and promises
were swiftly broken, was tall and handsome, generous with his gold, and
pleasant of speech. Therefore he had a large following and a powerful
one; but to Hacon he was ever a bad friend, seeking his throne, and met
his death hereafter in strife against him.
It happened that Guttorm the archbishop was away in the far north, and
Skuli would fain have waited till his return, for many canons and
learned clerks desired him for their lord, and the earl hoped that the
archbishop might gain over others also. So he went to work secretly,
seeking by sundry devices to put off the choice of a king, and so
cunning he was that he seemed to have succeeded. But one day when he was
asking counsel of a friend the blast of trumpets was heard.
'What means that?' cried the earl, starting up from his seat, and,
striding out of his chamber, he went quickly down the narrow stairs and
entered the great hall, which was crowded with men.
'Lord earl,' said one of the bodyguard, an old man with scars about his
face, 'Lord earl, we have waited long enough for the archbishop, and we
are minded to wait no longer. A meeting shall be held this morning in
this very place, and Hacon, Sverrir's grandson, shall sit by your side
on the high seat, and king shall he be called till the great Thing be
got together. If you say nay to this, then will the rowers make ready
the ships, and Hacon shall sail with us southwards to the land of
Bergen, and there another Thing shall be summoned, and we and the
bodyguard that dwells there will declare him king. Now choose.'
Then Skuli saw that there were many against him, and he let a high seat
be built close to the church of St. Nicholas, and Onund, standard-bearer
of the Birchlegs, stood up and said that the Croziermen were gathered in
the bay which lies south of Christiania and were ruled by a king. But
when tidings reached them that the men of Norway were but a headless
host the Croziermen would agree with the bishops and strife would be in
the land. A great shout arose when Onund had finished speaking, and
twelve men of the king's guard were sent to fetch Hacon, who was at the
school over against Christ Church. The boy was sitting on a bench, his
eyes bent on a priest who was reading out from a Latin roll the tale of
the burning of Dido, and when he had done it was his custom to make each
boy in turn tell him what he had heard. Suddenly, with a clatter, the
door flew open and the twelve messengers entered.
'God greet you, king's son,' spake the oldest of them. 'The Birchlegs
and the yeomen who meet in the courtyard of the palace have sent us to
fetch you.'
Hacon looked first at the priest and then at the Birchleg, and held out
his hand, and went with them down to the church of St. Nicholas. Then
Skuli the earl said that many were present who did not hold that the boy
was Sverrir's grandson, and that until he had proved his right to sit on
the high seat he must be content with a low one.
'Ingi and Hacon the earl knew well he was the king's son,' cried a voice
from out the crowd; but Skuli pretended not to hear, and declared that
by the counsel of his friends, Inga, Hacon's mother, must be tried by
the ordeal of hot iron.
In those days it was a common thing that anyone accused of a great crime
should prove his innocence in three ways, and he might choose which of
them pleased him best. Either he might walk over red-hot ploughshares,
or hold in his hand a piece of red-hot iron, and if his hands or feet
were marked with no scar he was held to be accused falsely. Or he could,
if so he willed, be tried by the ordeal of water and, having his hands
and feet bound, be cast into a river. If, after being in the water a
certain time or floating a certain distance, he remained alive and
unhurt, he also was let go free. In Norway the ordeal of iron alone was
used, and gladly did the king's mother offer to submit to it. Straight
from the meeting she went to the church of St. Peter, and fasted three
days and three nights and spoke to no one. On the third day she came
forth, her face shining, but the iron bar, which should have been lying
in a chest in the church, was nowhere to be found. For in truth the
canons and priests, who were Skuli's men, had misdoubted their cause,
and had hidden it away, lest the ordeal should prove their own undoing.
But the captain of the Birchlegs understood well what had befallen, and
sent messengers over the land to summon a Thing, to be held in a month's
time. And daily they set Hacon in the high seat beside the earl, and
Skuli dared not gainsay them.
---------------------
So the Thing was held in the meadow, and trumpets were blown, but the
canons forbade the holy shrine to be brought out from the church of St.
Olaf, as was the custom at the choosing of a king. In this they acted
unwisely, for the hearts of many of their own men grew hot at this base
device, and turned against them, and Hacon was proclaimed king, and
oaths were sworn to him. After that Hacon the king and Skuli the earl
sailed together to Bergen, in a ship of twenty benches. At the mouth of
the fiord a messenger brought him word that the canons and priests of
Bergen, moved by their fellows at Drontheim, did not mean to pay him
kingly honours. To this Hacon made answer that, as their king, he
expected the homage they had paid his fathers, or they would have to
bear the penalty, and his words bore fruit, for he rowed up the fiord
with all the church bells ringing and the people shouting. Then a Thing
was held, and he was chosen king by the people of Bergen also. But,
better than ruling over assemblies, Hacon loved to watch the strange
games of boys and men. King though he was, many troubled years were in
store for Hacon. Skuli was not minded to sit down quietly as Hacon's
liegeman, and at once began to lay plots with the Croziermen and with
John Earl of Orkney. He had taken for himself all the money which
Sverrir, Hacon his son, and Ingi had stored up, and all the gold that
Hacon possessed was a brooch and a ring. Thus it became plain even to
the Birchlegs that Hacon could not fight both the earl and the
Croziermen, and so it was agreed that Skuli should be lord over a third
part of Norway and that peace should be made.
Hardly was this done when there arose in the east a band of poor men,
under the lead of Benedict the priest, whom folk called Benny. From
their torn garments they were known as the Ragged Regiment, and at first
they did nothing but steal from farmyards and rob houses. But
afterwards, when rich and strong men who would not obey the laws joined
them, they grew bolder and attacked Tunsberg, the chief city near the
Bay, and though they were driven back and many were killed, yet for long
they harried the lands of Hacon, and with another band of rebels, called
the Ribbalds, laid waste the country. Till they were conquered, which
took Hacon ten years, little rest had he, and always Skuli was there to
trouble him.
It was when Hacon was fourteen years old that the archbishop and earl
Skuli sent messengers to Bergen to ask that Inga, his mother, might once
more go through the ordeal of iron to satisfy all men of his right to
the throne. In answer Hacon summoned the bishops and archbishops and
Skuli, together with some of his liegemen, to assemble in the vestry of
the church, and spoke to them in this wise:
'It would seem hard to many a king to undergo the ordeal when his rule
was established. Before, when my mother offered herself to suffer it, I
had not been chosen king, and you all know how it happened that when she
came forth the iron was hidden. You know, too, that when we first
entered Norway she declared herself ready to undergo the ordeal, but
Ingi the king and Hacon the earl answered that none misdoubted, neither
was there any need for it. Yet now I will do as you will for three
causes. First, that no man may say I have claimed what is not mine by
right; second, that I would that my subjects should learn that in all
things I strive to content them; and third, that the Judge into whose
hands I put myself will fail none whose cause is true. And therefore I
go gladly to this judgment.
[Illustration: INGA ENDURES THE ORDEAL OF THE HOT IRON]
Then Inga went into the church to fast for three days and three nights,
and some men fasted with her, and, twelve watched on the outside as
before. But on the Wednesday before the trial was to take place Sigar,
one of Skuli's men, skilled in learning, came secretly to good man
Dagfinn, Hacon's liegeman, and said thus: 'I know your heart is vexed
and sore because of this ordeal, but I can promise to make all things
right so that the king's mother shall not suffer.'
'How mean you?' asked Dagfinn who was not minded to talk with the man,
not liking his face.
'It is in this wise,' answered Sigar with a cunning look; 'I have only
to rub this herb over the hand of Inga and the iron will not harm her,
however hot it be.'
'I thank you,' said Dagfinn; 'but tell me what name has this herb, and
where I may find it.'
'It grows on every house in Bergen,' replied Sigar, who knew well full
that there was no virtue in the herb at all, but thought that Dagfinn
was with him in the matter, and that together they might proclaim that
Inga had sought the aid of leechcraft, and so discredit her in the eyes
of all men. But Dagfinn made as though he would spring on him, and bade
him begone while he kept his hands off him. After that Dagfinn told the
tale to Inga, and warned her lest she should fall into any snares.
Next morning Hacon the king, and Skuli, and the archbishop, and John
Earl of Orkney, and many other notable men, went into the church where
the priest said the office. Then the piece of holy iron was taken from
the great chest and heated in a brazier under the eyes of all, and when
it glowed white, so that none could look on it, the priest drew it forth
with long pincers and placed it in Inga's hand. As she took it, Hacon
shivered, as if the pain had been his. He alone turned his head away;
but the rest never lifted their gaze from the face of Inga, which was
calm and peaceful as ever.