So Olaf quitted Holmgard and went on shipboard, and stood out with his
viking fleet into the Baltic Sea. He now owed no allegiance to any man,
but was free to journey where he pleased, a king upon his own decks. At
this time he was scarcely eighteen summers old; but his limbs were so
well knit and strong, and he was withal so tall and manly, that he
seemed already to have attained to man's estate. Yet, feeling that his
youth might be against him, he had chosen that all his ship companions
should be as near as possible to his own age. He had a score or so of
bearded berserks on each of his ships--men who feared neither fire nor
steel, but who gloried in warfare, and loved nothing better than to be
in the midst of a great battle. These indeed were full aged men; but
for the rest, his crew of seamen and his band of trained men-at-arms
was comprised of youths, none of whom were older than Thorgils
Thoralfson, or younger than Olaf himself.
Olaf made his foster brother the chief in command under himself, giving
him power over both seamen and warriors. He made his friend Egbert the
sailing master, while one Kolbiorn Stallare became his master-of-arms.
Kolbiorn was the son of a powerful viking of Sognfiord in Norway. He
was of an age with Olaf Triggvison, and so much did the two resemble
one the other that, when apart, they were often taken to be brothers.
Both had the long fair hair and the blue eyes of the Norseland, both
were of nearly equal height; and it was Kolbiorn's habit to strive, by
wearing similar clothing, to increase the likeness between himself and
his young master. But when the two were side by side the resemblance
ceased, for then Olaf was seen to be both the taller and the more
muscular; his hair was seen to be more golden and silken, his skin more
purely fair; his eyes, too, were brighter and larger than those of
Kolbiorn, and his teeth more even and white. So, too, when it came to a
test of skill, Olaf had ever the advantage, notwithstanding that
Kolbiorn had spent all his young days on shipboard, had been taught by
the vikings to perform all manner of feats, and had taken part in many
battles on both land and sea.
On a certain calm morning, very soon after Olaf had set out on this his
first viking cruise, he stood with Kolbiorn at the ship's rail, looking
out over the sunlit sea as his vessel crept along propelled by her
forty long, sweeping oars, and followed by his four longships.
"I think," said he, "that we will amuse ourselves today, and try our
skill in some new game."
"I am very unfit to try my skill against yours," returned Kolbiorn
modestly, "for you have already beaten me at chess, at swimming, at
shooting, and at throwing the spear. Nevertheless, it shall be as you
wish."
"Choose, then, what feat we are to perform," said Olaf; "I am willing
to join in any exercise that you may know, and I do not doubt that
there are many in which your skill must be greater than mine."
"There is one," said Kolbiorn, "that I would be glad to see you
attempt, although there is danger in it, and I may be doing wrong in
suggesting it."
"If it be new to me, then I shall be all the more pleased," said Olaf;
"and none the less so though the risk be great."
Kolbiorn drew the young commander across to the shady side of the ship.
"It is that we shall climb over the bulwarks," said he, "and walk
outboard along the oars while the men are rowing."
Olaf looked over the side, and for a few moments watched the regular
motion of the oars as they dipped into the green water and rose
dripping into the air. He measured with his eye the space between each
of the twenty blades.
"It seems not so difficult as I had hoped," he said, "but let me see
you do it, and then I will follow."
Kolbiorn climbed over the ship's quarter, and worked his way forward to
the first rower's bench. Steadying himself for a moment as he hung by
one arm from the gunwale, he dropped with his two feet upon the
aftermost oar, and stepped out thence from oar to oar until he reached
the one nearest to the forecastle. Then, still balancing himself with
outstretched arms, he turned and walked aft by the same way to where
Olaf and many of the ship's company had stood watching him. All thought
it a very wonderful feat.
Olaf praised Kolbiorn's skill, but promptly prepared to follow his
example. Throwing off his red silk cloak, lest, by falling into the
sea, he should injure it, he climbed overboard, and without hesitation
dropped down upon the square shank of the aftermost oar; then going out
near to the blade, he ran forward with quick, well measured strides.
Once or twice, as the oars were dipped, he faltered and nearly lost his
balance, but he reached the foremost one without accident, and returned
with greater ease. When he again stepped upon the deck he appealed to
Thorgils Thoralfson to decide which had shown the more skill. But
Thorgils was unable to determine the matter.
"The game has not yet had sufficient trial," said Olaf; "it must be
gone through once more. But this time I will myself take the lead, and
let Kolbiorn or any other of our company follow."
Then he asked Thorgils and Kolbiorn to lend him their handsaxes, and
taking his own from his belt he again climbed over the side, and
walking along the row of moving oars played with the three dirks,
throwing them in turn up into the air, so that one was ever aloft and
one hilt ever in his hand. Thus he played as he strode forward, without
once dropping one of the weapons, and without once missing his sure
footing. Climbing over the forecastle deck he then returned along the
oars on the other side, and reached the deck with dry shoes.
No one on board could understand how Olaf had done this surprising feat
without having practised it many times before, and when he gave back
the two dirks to their owners, Kolbiorn stood before him and looked at
him in silence.
Olaf said: "Why do you stand thus and not try after me?"
"Because I own myself beaten," answered Kolbiorn. "And yet," he added,
"I cannot believe that you did this feat by your skill alone and
without some secret power. Either you have the favour of Odin to aid
you, or else you are descended from some mighty king whose natural
skill you have inherited. Marvellous does it seem to me that whatsoever
exercise you attempt, in that you are certain to surpass all other men."
Olaf laughed lightly and turned away towards his cabin, while his ship
fellows continued to talk among themselves of this new example of his
great agility.
Thus, even at the beginning of his free life as a sea rover, he had
made upon his companions so deep an impression that they one and all
respected him, and openly acknowledged him their superior in all things.
But most of all, they wondered of what kin he had been born that he
should so easily and with such little effort excel all men they had
known. For although they well knew that he had been a favourite at the
court of King Valdemar, yet none even guessed at the truth that he was
a blood descendant of the great Harald Fairhair; and less still did any
imagine that he was even now heir to the throne of Norway. None but
Thorgils Thoralfson knew his true name. At this time, and indeed
throughout the whole course of his after adventures in Britain, he was
known only as Ole the Esthonian.
Now although Olaf had spoken of his wish to return to the land of his
fathers, yet now that he was upon his own dragonship, and free to
follow where fortune should lead him, he showed no haste to make a
landing in Norway. He bent his course across the Gulf of Finland, and
then westward among the many green islands and rocky holms that lie in
the mid sea between Finland and Sweden, and for many sunny days and
calm starry nights simply enjoyed the idle pleasures of his new life of
freedom.
It was the summer season, when all the channels of the sea were clear
of ice, and there were many trading ships abroad which might have been
an easy prey had Olaf so chosen to fall upon them. But although he was
a viking, and had all the viking's lust for war and plunder, he yet
remembered the time when his own mother had been taken by Jarl Klerkon
and sold into bondage. So he determined to let all peaceful merchant
ships alone, and to join battle only with such vessels as were intent
upon warfare. In token of this resolve he had the great dragon's head
lowered from his prow, so that its wide open jaws and terrible aspect
might not strike fear into the hearts of the peaceable traders; and the
shields that were ranged along his outer bulwarks were peace shields,
painted white, as showing that he meant no harm to those who might
chance to meet him on the seas.
His berserks, and many of the young men who had joined his fellowship
in the hope of gain, grumbled sometimes when they saw him allow some
richly laden ship to go by without attacking her, and they declared
that after all he was a viking only in name. Olaf bade them wait in
patience, reminding them that there was no lack of good food and well
brewed ale on board, and that they had no need to feel discontent so
long as their daily life was passed in bodily comfort.
"And as to fighting," he added, "I cannot think that any of you would
take pleasure in drawing arms against men who have not been trained in
warfare."
Not long did they need to wait ere their instinct for fighting was in
part satisfied.
One gloomy forenoon his ships with their sails full set were speeding
before a strong wind through the wide channel of sea dividing the two
large islands of Gottland and Eyland. Thorgils was at the tiller of the
dragon ship--a post which, in the viking times, was always held by the
chief man on deck. As he stood there, his eyes swept the wide stretch
of the grey sea in search of ships; for Olaf Triggvison had now put his
red war shields out on the bulwarks, and the winged dragon reared its
great gilded head at the prow, as if in menace. Olaf himself was below
in his cabin under the poop, watching a game of chess that Kolbiorn and
Egbert were playing.
The chessboard was a very beautiful one, its squares being of inlaid
silver and gold, with little pegs in the centre of each space upon
which the pieces might be fixed, and so prevented from being upset or
from changing place when the vessel rolled. It was accounted a great
privilege by Olaf's companions to be allowed to play upon this costly
board, and Olaf had made it a condition that all who used it must do so
without dispute. For a long time Kolbiorn and Egbert went on peaceably
with their game. But while Olaf watched them, he noticed that Egbert
became more and more ruffled, as he found himself being constantly
baffled by his opponent's better play. So great was Kolbiorn's skill
that Egbert at length became desperate, and only made matters worse by
his hasty moves. He wanted to move back a knight which he had exposed,
but Kolbiorn would not allow it. Olaf advised them to leave the knight
where it now stood, and not to quarrel. At this Egbert's anger grew
hot, and declaring that he would not take Olaf's advice, he swept his
hand over the board, upset the pieces upon the cabin floor, and leaning
forward struck Kolbiorn a blow upon the ear, so that blood flowed.
Kolbiorn rose from his seat and quietly turned towards the door. There
he was met by one of his shipmates, who called out in an excited voice
that there was a large viking ship in sight, and that she was bearing
down towards them as though to give battle.
Olaf followed Kolbiorn from the cabin, and together they mounted to the
deck. Looking out across the sea they saw the viking ship rowing
towards them against the wind. In her wake there was a second vessel,
drifting helpless and untended, with her sail flapping wildly in the
wind and her oars all inboard. Olaf quickly noticed that there were
people on her forward deck, and that she was slowly sinking. It was
evident to him that she was a trading ship, which the vikings had but
newly attacked and plundered. For a moment he hesitated, wondering
whether he should hasten to her rescue or at once enter in battle with
the vikings. He saw that his men were already eagerly preparing for a
fight. Some, according to their custom before a battle, were busily
washing themselves and combing their hair, while others were eating and
drinking. There was no need for them to make ready their weapons, for
these had been kept well prepared ever since the beginning of the
cruise, and there was nothing further to be done than to bring the
arrows up on deck and serve them round among the bowmen, twenty arrows
to each man's quiver; and as for swords, spears, and armour, every man
on board knew well where to put his hand on his own.
Bidding Kolbiorn go forward to the forecastle and marshal his berserks
and bowmen, Olaf took down his war horn and blew a loud blast as
challenge. At the same moment a red painted shield was hoisted to the
yardarm. Then he went aft and took the tiller from Thorgils, and
steered his bark as though to meet the approaching foe. But when he got
within arrow shot of the stranger he suddenly altered his course,
crossing her bows. The vikings, who could not yet have noticed the four
consort ships that were still far behind, no doubt thought that he
meant to make his escape, and they bore round in pursuit of him. But
now Olaf had managed to get his vessel between the two other ships,
and, having the wind in his sail and his oars at work, he quickly
outdistanced the viking, and sped along at a great rate towards the
sinking trading ship. Not too soon was he in getting alongside of her,
for the vikings had scuttled her, and she had already settled down with
her quarter bulwarks on a level with the water's edge. He rescued a
full score of helpless men from her decks, and stood by her until she
went down. By this time the viking ship had again come within bow shot
of him, and his four longships had appeared in sight from behind the
headland of one of the islands.
Olaf had now his sail brailed up to the yard, and his vessel's prow
turned towards the oncoming enemy. Having resigned the helm to the
charge of one of his seamen, he donned his war armour and went forward
to the prow. Here the strongest and most experienced of his men were
stationed as stem defenders, armed with swords and spears, and
protected by their shields. Among them stood Olaf's standard bearer,
round whom they were ranged in battle order. The station abaft that
occupied by the stem defenders was manned by the berserks, and behind
the mast were the spearmen, archers, and stone slingers.
Olaf and Kolbiorn, who were both armed with their longbows and a large
number of picked arrows, as well as their swords, stood side by side by
the banner bearer. Olaf again blew his war horn, while Kolbiorn fired
an arrow of challenge high over the mast of the viking ship. When the
two vessels drew near, Olaf saw that the stranger's forward decks were
crowded, with fighting men, whom, by their dark hair and brown skin, he
rightly judged to be Danes. The ships crashed together stem to stem,
and then grappling hooks were thrown out from either side, and the
vessels were bound close together, so that neither might escape until
the fighting was at an end.
Thus at close quarters the battle began, and very soon the air was
thick with swift flying arrows, and with showers of spears and stones.
The chiefs on either side shouted aloud, urging their fellows to the
fray, and many a well tried warrior was sent that day to Odin's halls.
For a long while it seemed that the Danes were getting the upper hand,
for they greatly outnumbered the men on Olaf's dragonship. But as the
fight grew fiercer Olaf's berserks worked themselves to a wild fury,
and, led by Olaf and Kolbiorn, they made a rush upon the enemy's
forecastle, carrying all before them as an autumn wind carries the
withered leaves. For three long hours the battle continued, man to man;
but at last Olaf got the victory, and took the Dane ship as his prize,
with all the treasure and costly armour, all the slaves and stores on
board of her. His four longships had not joined in the contest, because
it was always considered unfair to oppose an adversary with unequal
force. But now they were brought nearer, and when all the wreckage of
the fight was cleared away he placed some of his own men on board the
prize, divided the spoil among all his fellowship, and once more sailed
off, well satisfied with his first success.
Southward he sailed down the Swedish coast, and met with adventures too
many to be told. And at length he made for Borgund holm, an island that
lies out in the Baltic to the south of Sweden. By this time his stores
had run short, so he fell upon the island and harried there. The
landsmen came in great force and waged battle against him; but Olaf
again won the victory, and got great plunder of horses and cattle.
He lay by Borgund holm for many weeks, with his tents ranged in order
along a stretch of the beach, and his ships drawn up to the high water
mark. Every day his men held sports, and at night they all sat in their
tents drinking and throwing dice, or listening to the sagamen's stories
of the great deeds of byegone warriors. Olaf himself joined always in
their feasts and revels, and he was ever the merriest and gamesomest in
the company.
One day while his ships were still at Borgund holm, his two chief men,
Kolbiorn and Thorgils, were boasting of their skill at climbing. They
contended as to who could climb the steepest rock, and at last they
made a bet. Kolbiorn wagered his gold neck ring against Thorgils' best
bronze drinking horn. After this they both climbed the high cliff.
Thorgils went so far that he was in danger of falling down, and he
returned in fear, saving himself with difficulty. Kolbiorn climbed up
to the middle of the precipice; but there he dared go neither forward
nor backward, nor even move, for he had no hold upon the rock for
either feet or hands. His position was so perilous that he foresaw
certain death if he should make the least movement. He shouted in great
fear for Olaf or his men to rescue him. Olaf called some brave man to
venture the deed and offered a large reward; but not one of his company
stirred. Then Olaf threw off his cloak and ran up the face of the rock
as though it had been a level plain, took Kolbiorn under his arms, and
went farther up with him. He then turned to descend with the man under
his arm and laid him unharmed on the ground. All praised this as a
great feat, and the fame of it was widely spread. Long afterwards he
performed the similar feat of climbing to the topmost peak of the
mountain called Smalsarhorn, in Norway, and there suspending his
shining shield upon the summit, so that it shone like a sun across the
sea.
Many tales are told of his strength and agility--of how he could smite
alike with either hand, of how he could shoot with two spears at once.
It is said that he could jump higher than his own height both backwards
and forwards, and this with his weapons and complete armour on. He was
the swiftest and strongest swimmer in all Scandinavia, and at running
and climbing no man was his equal.
And yet he was no boaster. His great deeds came of his eagerness in all
matters, and not from a desire to belittle his companions. He was kind
and lowly hearted, bountiful of gifts, very glorious of attire, and
before all men for high heart in battle. It may be that he also was
cruel, for it is told that he was stern and wrathful with all who
offended him, and that in punishing his enemies he knew no mercy. He,
however, sought only to do all things that it was customary for a
viking to do. To win fame, to gain wealth, to plunder, and to
slay--these were the passions that ruled him. The ocean was his only
home. He derided the comforts of a warm fireside and scorned the man
who should sleep under a sooty rafter or die on a bed of straw. To give
up his last breath amid the clamour of battle was his one unalterable
ambition; for only those who died thus, besprinkled with blood, could
ever hope to win favour of the pagan gods, or to enter the sacred halls
of Valhalla. In the spirit of his times he believed that the viking
life was the noblest and most honourable that a man could follow; he
believed that the truest title to all property was given by winning it
with the sword, and very soon he became as wild and reckless as any sea
rover on the Baltic. No danger, howsoever great, had power to daunt
him, or to lessen his joy in the fresh freedom of the open sea with its
wild hoarse winds and its surging perilous storms.
It was in the autumntide that Olaf encountered the first serious storm.
By this time he had added to his fleet many vessels which he had
captured in battle, and some that he had had built by his shipwrights;
and he bethought him that he would now sail out of the Baltic Sea and
make his way round to the coasts of Norway, where, with his great force
of men and ships behind him, he might surely hope to win the glory that
he coveted. He had kept his favourite companions and his chosen
warriors on board his dragonship, so that they might ever be near him
in case of need. But Egbert of Britain and Kolbiorn Stallare, after
their quarrel over the game of chess, had not been friendly towards
each other, so Egbert was placed in command over one of the other
vessels of the fleet--a Longship named the Snake.
On a certain day the ships were making westward under easy sail when
the storm burst suddenly upon them, with a bitter cold wind from the
north that quickly whipped the sea into great towering waves. The hail
and sleet fell so heavily that the men in the bow of each ship were
hidden from those in the stern, and the seas broke over the bulwarks,
deluging the decks and cabins, so that the men in the baling room were
kept constantly at work with their scoops and buckets. All cried upon
Njord, the sea god, and upon Thor and Odin no less, to save them out of
their peril; but the raging storm continued throughout the night and
the whole of the next day, and all the time Olaf stood at the helm,
bravely facing the tempest and keeping his vessel's prow pointing
northward to meet the towering waves. Often it seemed that he would be
swept overboard by the wild rush of water, but his great strength
endured the strain, and though nearly blinded by the pelting hail he
still held on.
With the evening of the second day the wind's force abated, and the
heavy clouds that had darkened the sky melted away in a glow of sunset
gold. Then Olaf looked around upon the wide turbulent sea and counted
his ships. Some had lost their masts, and others had been swept far
away towards the dim horizon. One of them alone was missing: it was the
longship of Egbert of Britain. Olaf had little doubt that she had
foundered with all on board, and yet he knew that Egbert was a brave
and skilful seaman, and he thought it strange that he should have
failed to weather the storm, so, finding no other explanation, he
declared that it was because Egbert was a Christian that this disaster
had happened. Had he been a true believer in the mighty gods of the
northmen, said Olaf, he would surely have surmounted all dangers, and
his ship and crew had been saved! And all who heard them regarded the
young chief's words as words of wisdom, for they did not know, and
neither did Olaf himself at that moment dream, that Egbert and his
ship's company were safe and sound in the shelter of the high headland
of Borgund holm. Not for many years thereafter did Olaf and Egbert
again meet, and when they did so, it was face to face as foemen on the
battle plain of Maldon, in far off England.
When the storm had spent its force, and the sea was calm, Olaf brought
his ships together, made the needful repairs, and led the way southward
to the shores of Wendland. There he got good haven and, faring full
peacefully, abode there throughout the winter months.