It befell at a time when Olaf had been in the queen's service some four
summers that Sigurd Erikson went out into the far parts of the king's
dominions to levy the yearly taxes upon the people, and among those
that went with him on his journey were Thorgils Thoralfson and the
young Egbert of England. These two had, by Olaf's favour with King
Valdemar, been liberated from their bondage and hard labour, and Sigurd
had taken them into his service as men-at-arms. Brave and handsome they
looked as they sat upon their chargers with their swords hanging at
their sides and the sun shining on their burnished bronze helmets and
coats of ring mail. Olaf watched them with admiring eyes as they rode
away through the town, and wished that he might be of their company.
But their journey was one of peace, and it was only their martial array
that made him for the moment envious.
Sigurd was expected to be absent for little more than two weeks, but
the time went by, the weeks passed into months, and he did not return.
On a certain day Olaf was beyond the gates training a pair of young
hounds. As he watched one of the dogs running in pursuit of a hare that
had been started he espied afar off a horseman riding swiftly across
the plain, almost hidden in a cloud of dust. Nearer and nearer he
approached until Olaf at last saw his face, and knew him to be his
young friend Egbert. Leaving the dogs in the care of two of the king's
servants who were attending him, he set off at a quick run to meet the
horseman.
"What brings you back alone, Egbert?" he cried as he came near.
Egbert drew rein. His garments were torn and dusty; he had lost his
helmet and sword, and his face was so begrimed and travel stained that
he was scarcely to be recognized.
"I have brought ill news," he answered, "and am hastening with it to
King Valdemar. It is full five days since I parted company with my
fellows. They are all made captive--the Hersir Sigurd, Thorgils
Thoralfson, and the rest of them--and I alone have escaped."
Olaf turned, and taking Egbert's stirrup strap in his hand trotted on
at the horse's side.
"Seven days ago," Egbert went on, "we crossed in one of the king's
ships to an island that lies out to the west of Esthonia. Dago is the
name of the island.
"There Sigurd landed, meaning to gather taxes and tribute from the
people. But no sooner was he ashore than the people told him that they
were no longer the subjects of King Valdemar but of a new king whom
they had chosen for themselves. Sigurd disputed their right to elect a
new king for themselves, and he asked to see this man and to know the
name of him who had dared to set himself up in opposition to Valdemar.
Then there was a commotion among the crowd, and one stepped forward and
cried out, 'I am the king, and my name is Rand the Strong!' and we all
knew him to be the same viking who four summers ago was here in
Holmgard in the train of Jan Klerkon. Sigurd grew ill at ease seeing
the vast crowd of islanders that had now gathered there, but he spoke
boldly, and told them all that they were a pack of rebels, and that
King Valdemar would speedily prove to them that he would not brook the
interference of this upstart sea rover. At that Rand drew his sword and
called to his men to stand by their rights and drive these intruders
from their shores. There was a brief fight, in which I know not how
many men were slain or wounded, and in the end the islanders got the
victory. Sigurd fought bravely until he was disarmed and made prisoner.
Thorgils and five others of our men were carried off with him. Our
ship, too, was captured. Darkness came on ere the fight was finished,
and under the cover of night I crept down to the seashore and waded out
into the sea. By the light of the stars I took my bearings and swam out
eastward to the mainland. All through the night I swam on and on. The
sun rose, and still the land was afar off. But at the midday I came to
a firm footing on the beach. At a farmstead I got food and a horse, and
for two days I have been travelling without rest."
"You have done wondrous well," cried Olaf. "And much do I envy you your
adventure."
"There is little cause for envy," returned Egbert. "My limbs are so
weary that I can scarcely sit upright upon my horse's back, and he,
poor dumb brute, is so wind broken that he can be of little more use in
the world. As to adventure, you might now have it in plenty if the king
would but agree to your being of those who must go to the rescue of our
comrades. You are young, and have had no experience in warfare; but you
can, for all that, wield a sword as well as any man in Valdemar's
service."
Olaf was silent, and when they entered the gates he did not seek to
accompany Egbert into the presence of the king. Instead, he made his
way into Queen Allogia's apartments, and there told the news that he
had just heard.
Not long had he been in the hall wherein the queen sat when the door
opened and King Valdemar entered, looking very grave. Olaf rose from
his seat and bowed before him.
"What is your age, my boy?" asked Valdemar.
"Sixteen summers, lord," answered Olaf, wondering at the reason of the
question.
The king eyed him from head to foot.
"It is still very young," said he with a smile. "But your strength is
greater than your years. Not often have I seen one so young with limbs
so sturdy and with figure so nobly upright. I have been thinking that
you have lingered long enough about the skirts of our womenfolk. Such
skill as yours should be put to more manly uses than fingering the harp
and carrying the wine cup, and I have now a mind to see what you can do
in active warfare. There is trouble among the people over in the Isle
of Dago. I have had news that a rebellion has broken out, and that the
islanders have chosen a new king to themselves and refused to
acknowledge their rightful sovereign. These rebels must be instantly
quelled, and I have therefore resolved to despatch a company of men
against them and force them to submit. What say you to your taking the
command of the expedition?"
"The command?" repeated Olaf, drawing back in astonishment. "But I am
no more than a boy. My heart is willing and bold; but surely I am too
young to undertake so grave a trust!"
"Yes," cried the queen, growing white even to the lips at thought of
her favourite being thus thrust into a post of danger. "Yes," she
cried, "he is assuredly too young for such a charge!"
But King Valdemar shook his head.
"Not so," said he with confidence. "Young though he may be in years, I
am well assured that there is no man now living in this kingdom who is
better fitted for the leading of an armed host, and I will trust him to
the full." Then turning to Olaf he added: "The matter is already
settled. It so chances that there are at this present time six of our
best warships, with their full number of seamen and warriors, now lying
in the haven behind Odinsholm. You will depart hence at daybreak, with
such armed horsemen and footmen as you choose to take in your company.
Ere you reach the coast the ship captains will have been informed that
I have placed you over them as their chief and commander."
Scarcely able to believe in the reality of what he heard, Olaf stood
before the king in silent perplexity. He lacked not faith in his own
personal prowess, for that had many times been amply proved in the
games and exercises that he had daily engaged in, nor did his courage
fail him. But to be placed at the head of Some hundreds of well tried
warriors and told to lead them against an enemy, this was a matter of
which he had as yet only vaguely dreamed. For many moments he stood in
doubt. But suddenly it seemed that a new light came into his clear blue
eyes, and a fuller vigour into his strong young limbs.
"If it be your wish, lord," he said at last, "then I will undertake the
trust. My great forefather, King Harald Fairhair, was younger than I
now am when he led forth his hosts to battle; and, as I am of King
Harald's blood, so will I seek to make myself a worthy man of war."
Thereupon King Valdemar led the boy away, and for a long while they sat
together, making their plans of how Olaf's forces were to invade the
island and rescue Sigurd Erikson from the hands of the rebel islanders.
On a certain calm summer evening Olaf Triggvison, mounted upon a
splendid white horse, and followed by some two score of picked
men-at-arms, rode into the little town wherein, four years before, he
had lived as a humble thrall. None knew him now for the same wild,
wilful boy whom they had been accustomed to see playing barefooted upon
the beach or tending his master's sheep upon the hillside. Even Reas
the bonder himself, who had many a time flogged him for his
disobedience and idleness, and who now watched him riding downward to
the ships, did not recognize his former bondslave in the handsome and
gaily attired young warrior. The people spoke among themselves of
Olaf's beautiful fair hair, of his crested helmet of burnished brass,
of his red silk cloak that fluttered in the breeze, and his glittering
battleaxe that hung pendant from his saddle. They admired his easy seat
upon horseback, and, when he spoke, they marvelled at the full richness
of his voice. But none could say that they had ever before set eyes
upon him.
Out in the mid bay the king's six longships lay at anchor, with their
sails furled and their high gunwales set with shields from prow to
stern. The largest vessel had at her prow the towering figure of a
winged dragon ornamented with beaten gold. She was the longest ship
that Olaf had ever seen, and he counted that she was fitted for twenty
pairs of oars. Her hull was painted red and green above the water, and
the tent that covered her decks was made of striped red and white
cloth. As he stood gazing at her, with wonder and admiration, a small
boat came round from her further side, rowed by six seamen and steered
by a stalwart, red bearded warrior, whom the young commander had once
before seen at the king's court in Holmgard. Jarl Asbiorn was his name.
When the boat touched at the wharf Asbiorn greeted Olaf very humbly and
bade him step on board. Olaf called Egbert to his side and together
they were taken out to the dragon ship and received with great honour
by the six captains, who each in turn took vows of submission and
obedience to him. Then, while the ships were being got ready for sea,
Olaf was shown into a large room under the poop and told that this was
to be his private cabin. Here he held counsel with his officers
touching the expedition they were now entering upon.
It was a proud moment for Olaf when, just at the sun's setting and at
his own word of command, the oars of the six ships were thrust out from
the bulwarks and the vessels began to move slowly out of the bay.
The warlike spirit that had been lying quiet within him now filled him
with a strange new energy. The fresh sea air and the sense of his own
power seemed to have entered every vein in his body, thrilling him with
an eager desire for glory, which amounted almost to a madness. As he
trod his ship's deck the seamen and fighting men watched him in
wondering interest, and declared among themselves that Balder himself
could not have been more beautiful. At first they thought that he was
too young to be trusted with the sole command of six great vessels of
war, but very soon he showed them that he was well able to do all that
was expected of him; and there was something in his voice, in the quick
glance of his eyes, and in his alertness that made them acknowledge him
as one who was born to be a leader of men. So they obeyed him in all
things and yielded to his will in such wise that he had no trouble of
any sort.
Before this time he had had no experience in the working of a ship; so
in the early part of the voyage he gave his mind to the learning of all
matters wherein he knew himself to be most ignorant. He watched the
setting of the sails and asked many questions concerning them, until he
could understand why at any time a certain rope was hauled or loosened,
and why when the wind blew strong a reef was taken in. Always he took
great interest in the working of the oars. There were in his own ship
four score of rowing men--two at each oar--and as he watched them he
marvelled how they could endure the hard labour without breaking their
backs or tearing out their arms; and to prove to himself what amount of
strength the work required he went down into the ship's waist and,
taking off his shirt of chain mail, took his turn upon one of the
benches, thus winning the praise of all on board. But most of all he
loved to take the tiller in his hand and steer the vessel through the
dangers of the wind swept sea.
On the evening of the third day the ships came within sight of the
island of Dago, and the young commander bade his men get ready their
weapons lest the islanders should offer resistance. During the night he
brought his fleet to an anchorage under a small holm, whose high cliffs
sheltered the ships from the view of the larger island. Then launching
a small boat and disguising himself in a rough seaman's cloak, he took
Egbert and four of the men with him and they rowed across the channel
and made a landing.
Olaf questioned a shepherd whom he met on the upland pastures, and from
him learned that Rand the Strong was still recognized among the
islanders as their king and that the power of King Valdemar was broken.
So Olaf returned to the ships and brought them round into a wide bay,
upon whose shores the town was built.
Not long was Rand the Strong in mustering his little army of vikings,
for he had seen the six ships approaching; he knew them to be the ships
of King Valdemar, and quickly guessed with what intent they had come.
At sight of the islanders massed in battle array upon the beach Olaf
bade his rowers draw yet nearer into the shallows. Then the war horns
were sounded on both sides, the warriors set their arrows to the
bowstring and a fierce fight began. More than once the islanders
retreated before the heavy rain of arrows and stones, but again and
again they rallied and assailed the ships. Many of the vikings rushed
into the water and swam outward to the ships, but before they could
climb the bulwarks and set foot upon the decks they were cut down by
Olaf's swordsmen or slain, even as they swam, by arrow or spear.
Olaf himself stood at the prow of his dragon ship, surrounded by his
berserks, whose shields protected him, and coolly he drew arrow after
arrow from his sheath and sent it with unerring aim into the midst of
the islanders. Stones and arrows fell about him in a constant rain,
crashing upon his helmet and breaking against the close-knit rings of
his coat of mail. At last he singled out the tall figure of Rand the
Strong, who, rallying his vikings, led them nearer to the water's edge.
Olaf chose one of his best arrows and fixed it to his bowstring, then
bent his bow with the full strength of his arms, aiming very steadily.
The bowstring twanged and the arrow flew whizzing through the air. Olaf
watched its quick flight and followed it until it struck its intended
mark and stood quivering in the bare part of the viking's throat. Rand
staggered and fell. Then the islanders, seeing that their chief was
slain, drew back once more to the higher beach, while Olaf brought his
ships yet closer into the shallows and ordered his forces to land. With
his sword in hand he led his men to the attack. There was a sharp hand
to hand fight, in which many were killed on both sides; but at last the
islanders gave way before the invaders and Olaf got the victory.
So, when the fight was at an end, Olaf called the chief rebels before
him and forced them to acknowledge King Valdemar as their rightful and
sole sovereign. When peace was restored he demanded that Sigurd Erikson
and those who had been of his following should be set at liberty. Among
the first who were freed from the prison in Rand's stronghold was
Thorgils Thoralfson. But Sigurd Erikson was found dead in his cell. The
islanders declared that he had died of his wounds, but Olaf believed
that hunger and hardship were the cause of it.
Greatly did Olaf Triggvison grieve over the loss of his uncle. Sigurd
had been as a father to him, had lifted him up out of his sordid life
of thraldom and raised him to his present high position in the favour
of the court. And now he was dead and there was an end of all his
loving kindness.
For the rest of that day Olaf was engaged in the burial of the brave
islanders and vikings who had fallen in the battle, and he had a mound
built over them and raised stones above them to mark the place. But at
night he had Sigurd Erikson's body carried down to the beach with all
the other men who had been of King Valdemar's host. One of the smaller
ships was then brought in to the beach, and a pyre of tarred wood and
dry peat was built upon its upper deck. Olaf placed the dead body of
his uncle upon the pyre, with all the armour that Sigurd had worn. The
ship was further loaded with the dead men and with weapons. Then, when
the tide had risen and the vessel was afloat with her sail hoisted,
Olaf went on board alone with a lighted torch and kindled the pyre. The
wind blew off shore and the ship sailed slowly out upon the dark sea.
There was a loud crackling of dry twigs and the flames rose amid a
cloud of black smoke, showing Olaf standing at the stern with the
tiller in his hand. Very soon the fire caught the logs of tarred wood,
and when the pyre was all aglow and the heat became too great for him
to bear, he fixed the steering board with the end of a rope, gave a
farewell look at the prostrate body of his uncle, and then stepping to
the rail threw himself overboard into the sea and swam back to the
land. When he got his feet upon the rocks he climbed up to a grassy
knoll and sat there watching the burning ship. The leaping flames lit
up the sky and cast a long track of light upon the rippled sea.
Presently both sail and mast fell over with a crash, and a cloud of
fiery sparks rose high into the black night. Still Olaf sat watching;
nor did he move away until at last the ship had burned down to the
water's edge, and there was no more to be seen but a tiny gleam of
light shining far out upon the dark and silent waves.
On the next morning, having ended this work of quelling the rebel
islanders, Olaf led his fleet out of the bay and set forth on his
return to the mainland. In three days' time he was once more in
Holmgard. There he remained for two other years, enjoying great favour
in the court and performing many important services. He sustained a
great company of men-at-arms at his own cost from the wealth that he
had inherited from his Uncle Sigurd, and from such riches as the king
bestowed upon him; and the leading of this host throve so well in his
hands that all the younger men of the realm flocked to his side, eager
to be enlisted in his service.
Now it befell--as oft it must when outland men win fame and power
beyond those of the land--that many folks envied Olaf the great love he
had of the king, and of the queen no less. His bravery and his great
success in all that he undertook brought him many secret enemies, who
whispered all sorts of evil whispers to King Valdemar. They declared
that Olaf was but increasing his influence and power so that in the end
he might do some hurt to the king and to the realm. They slandered him
and spoke all manner of evil against him, representing him as a
dangerous rival to Valdemar in the affections of both the queen and the
people. So the king, hearing these false charges and believing them,
began to look coldly upon young Olaf and to treat him roughly. Olaf
then knew that it was time for him to be going, for that confidence
once lost could never be wholly restored. So he went to King Valdemar
and spoke with him, saying that as he was now grown tall and strong he
was minded to travel and to see the land wherein his ancestors had
ruled and his own father had been sovereign.
Little sorrow did the jealous Valdemar show at hearing of this resolve.
And to hasten Olaf's departure he gave him great gifts of well wrought
weapons--a splendid sword inlaid with gold on the blade and set in the
hilt with dear bought gems, and a shield of embossed brass. Also he
furnished him with a dragonship and four longships, ready manned and
equipped for the sea, and bade him go a-roving wheresoever he willed in
search of adventure and worldly furtherance.
Queen Allogia, however, was very sad at thought of thus losing her
favourite, and it was long ere she would make up her mind to let Olaf
leave her. But in the end she saw that it was for his own good and
advancement that he should go; so she gave him a beautiful banner of
silken embroidery that she had worked with her own hands, told him that
he would be accounted a noble and brave man wheresoever he should
chance to be, and then bade him a last farewell.