Now when Earl Sigvaldi, finding that the chances of war were going so
directly against him, fled from the battle, many of the vikings
followed him in the belief that he was but intending to make a new
rally and to presently return to the fray. That the chief of Jomsburg
could be guilty of mean cowardice surpassed their understanding;
moreover, they were bound by their oaths to obey him in all things.
Some twenty of his ships followed him out of the bay, and the captains
watched him, ready to turn back with him at his first signal. But
Sigvaldi made no signal whatsoever, and only showed, by his extreme
haste, that he was indeed bent upon making an unworthy and cowardly
retreat.
Justin and Guthmund, two of the viking captains who were sailing in the
chief's wake, turned their ships and cried aloud to their neighbours to
go back with them to the battle and to the rescue of the brave men who
had been so heedlessly deserted; and many put about their prows. But
already it was too late: not only were the fortunes of the fight now
entirely in the hands of the Norwegians, but the storm of hail and
wind, which was growing every moment more severe, made it impossible
for the ships to make headway against its fury. All who followed
Sigvaldi were therefore ever afterwards accused of cowardice,
notwithstanding that the larger number of them were both willing and
anxious to return.
Southward before the wind sailed Sigvaldi in all haste, until he
entered one of the wider channels; and then the storm ceased as
suddenly as it had begun. In the evening the ships took shelter under
the lee of one of the islands, and there they were anchored, so that
the decks might be cleared and put in good order. That night, unknown
to the chief, a council was held, and the captains, headed by Guthmund,
decided that they would no longer serve or obey a leader who had so far
forgotten the strict laws of the vikings as to show fear in the face of
an enemy.
In the early morning, therefore, when Earl Sigvaldi hoisted his
standard and made out for the open sea, none followed him. He quickly
guessed the reason, and, instead of attempting to win over his former
friends, he had his sail set to the wind and sped out westward across
the sea.
Guthmund was then elected commander of the twenty longships, and when
Sigvaldi's vessel had passed out of sight the anchors were weighed and
the little fleet moved southward among the isles. Here, where the
channels were narrow, and dangerous with hidden rocks, sails were of
little use, and the men, wearied with fighting and smarting from their
wounds, had little strength left for labouring at the oars, so that
progress was slow.
The ships were still but a few miles to the south of Ulfasound very
early on the third morning, when they fell in with a small sailing boat
far out beyond the sight of land. The boat had only one man in it, and
he sat at the stern, holding the sheet in one hand and the tiller in
the other. His head was bowed, and his chin rested on his chest. He was
sound asleep.
Guthmund, whose ship was nearest, called aloud to him, asking if he had
caught any fish that night. But the boatman still slept. Then Guthmund
took up an arrow and fired it so that it struck the boat's mast. In an
instant the man started to his feet, threw off his cloak, and stood up.
The morning sunlight shone on his head of tangled gold hair and on part
of his coat of chain mail. He looked very noble and beautiful, and all
the shipmen stared at him in amazement.
"By the ravens of Odin! It is young Ole the Esthonian!" cried Guthmund.
And he called to Olaf to come aboard.
Olaf at first refused, saying that although he had been without food
for two days and was also sick and weak from loss of blood and the want
of rest, yet he would never demean himself by taking the hospitality of
men who had deserted their comrades in the heat of battle.
"Where is Earl Sigvaldi?" he cried. "Let me see him that I may tell him
to his face that he is a coward!"
"We have broken off from him, and are no longer his men," answered
Guthmund. "He has sailed west over the sea towards the Orkneys. We are
now without a chief, and would be very well satisfied if you, who are a
well proved champion, would take the command over us; and we will one
and all take oath to serve you and follow you wheresoever you may
choose to lead us."
"If that be so, and if there are none but brave men among you," said
Olaf, "then I will do as you suggest."
And he brought his boat to the quarter and climbed on board.
When he had taken drink and food and had washed himself and combed his
hair, he told of how the battle had ended and of how he had escaped.
Now the vikings were well pleased to have such a chief as Olaf
Triggvison, for not only had they the fullest confidence in his
prowess, in his skill as a leader of men, and in his unfailing bravery,
but they also remembered that he was the owner of the squadron of
battleships which had been left in Jutland in charge of Kolbiorn
Stallare; and they rightly guessed that Olaf, with these combined
fleets, would not rest long ere he should start on some new and warlike
expedition.
During the southward voyage nothing was said by Olaf concerning his
plans. But when he joined his other fleet in Lyme Firth, he went
straightway on board his dragonship and held council with Kolbiorn.
Glad was Kolbiorn to see his master once again, and they greeted each
other as brothers.
"It seems to me," said Kolbiorn, when Olaf had told him of the defeat
of the Jomsvikings, "that now with these forty ships that are ours we
might very well fare to Norway, and take vengeance upon Earl Hakon. If
we could take him unawares our chance of defeating him would be great,
and who can tell but you would succeed where Sigvaldi failed, and so
make yourself the King of Norway?"
But Olaf shook his head.
"Not so," said he; "Earl Hakon is a much greater man than you think,
Kolbiorn. His power is well established in the land, and his people are
well content and prosperous under his rule. I am not afraid to meet him
in battle. But our forces are very small compared with the great host
of men and ships that Hakon could muster at any moment, and to attempt
this journey you propose would only mean disaster. A better plan have I
been nursing in my mind these three days past."
"What plan is that?" Kolbiorn asked.
Olaf answered: "When we were at King Sweyn's inheritance feast the oath
that Sweyn made was, that he meant to fare across the seas to England
and drive King Ethelred from his realm. Now it appears to me that
England offers a far easier conquest than Norway, or Sweyn Forkbeard
would never have resolved to make such an attempt. I have heard that
King Ethelred is but a youth--five years younger than myself--that he
is not a fighting man, but a weak fool. Certain it is that he has very
few ships to defend his coasts. Moreover, the people of England are
Christians, and it seems to me that we should be doing a great service
to Odin and Thor, and all others of our own gods, if we were to sweep
away all the Christian temples and restore the worship of the gods of
Asgard. Whereas, if we make war in Norway we fight against those who
worship as we ourselves worship, we slay men who speak the same tongue
as we speak, whose blood is our own blood, and whose homes are the
homes of our own birthland. Many Norsemen have reaped great plunder in
England and have made great settlements on the English coasts. Why
should not we follow their example?--nay, why should we not conquer the
whole kingdom?"
Kolbiorn strode to and fro in the cabin without at first expressing any
opinion on this bold scheme.
"We have now between seven and eight thousand men," continued Olaf.
"A small enough force with which to invade a great nation such as
England," said Kolbiorn. "I think there would be a far greater chance
of success if we joined with Sweyn Forkbeard."
"My experience with Earl Sigvaldi has already taught me that I can
manage with better success when I am my own master," said Olaf.
"Moreover, King Sweyn is at present at enmity with the Danish people,
and it would not be easy for him to go a-warring in foreign lands
without the risk of losing his own throne. The glory or the failure of
this expedition must be ours alone, and so soon as we can make ready
our ships I intend to set sail."
Now it was at about this time that Olaf Triggvison's followers gave him
the name of king. It was a title which the sea rovers of the north
often gave to the man whom they had chosen as their chief, and it
implied that he was a leader who ruled over warriors and who had
acquired a large number of warships. Not often did such a king possess
lands. His realm was the sea--"Ran's land"--and his estates were his
ships. In the English chronicles and histories of this period, Olaf is
referred to as King of the Norwegians; but he was not yet a king in the
sense that Sweyn Forkbeard was King of Denmark or Ethelred King of
England. The fact that he was of royal birth was held a secret until
long after his invasion of England and his subsequent friendship with
King Ethelred. Nevertheless, his companions called him King Ole, and
the name clung to him throughout all his wanderings.
There were many wounded men on board the ships, and, while Olaf was
still lying in Lyme Firth, some of them died; others, whose limbs were
lamed and who were no longer able to work at the oars or to engage in
battle, were left behind in Jutland. Only those who were in every way
fit and strong were allowed to remain in the fleet. When all was ready
Olaf hoisted his standard and arrayed his war shields and set out to
sea.
To Saxland first he sailed. There he harried along the coasts and got a
good store of cattle and corn, and won many men and two other ships to
his following. Then about Friesland and the parts that are now covered
by the Zuyder Zee, and so right away south to the land of the Flemings.
By this time the autumn was far advanced, and Olaf thought that he
would seek out some creek or river in Flanders where he might lie up
for the winter.
On a certain sunny evening he was out upon the deeper sea in one of his
fast sailing skiffs. He chanced to look across the water in the
direction of the setting sun, and far away on the line of the horizon
he espied a ridge of white cliffs. Thorgils Thoralfson was at his side,
and the foster brothers spoke together concerning this land that they
saw. They presently determined that it could be no other country than
England. So they put about their skiff and returned to the fleet.
At noon on the following day the forty-two ships were within a few
miles of the North Foreland of Kent. The cliffs stood out white as snow
against the gray autumn sky, and where the line of the headland dipped
the grassy slopes of a fertile valley could be seen dotted over with
browsing sheep.
Olaf Triggvison steered his dragonship down the coast, until at length
he saw a film of blue smoke that rose in the calm air above the little
seaport of Sandwich. The town stood at the mouth of a wide creek whose
banks sloped backward into sandy dunes and heather covered knolls. The
river lost itself in a forest of beech trees that still held their
trembling leaves that the summer sun had turned to a rich russet brown.
Across one of the meadows a herd of cattle was being driven home to the
safety of one of the farmsteads. Olaf turned his ship's head landward
and blew a loud blast of his war horn. The shrill notes were echoed
from the far off woods. His fleet closed in about his wake, and he led
the way inward to the creek, rowing right up to the walls that
encircled the town. A few arrows were fired. But already the folk had
fled from their homes alarmed at the sight of so large a force, and the
invaders landed without the shedding of a drop of blood.
When the ships had been safely moored in the harbour, with their masts
lowered and their figureheads taken down, Olaf had his tents sent
ashore, and he made an encampment along the margin of the river and in
the shelter of the beech woods. His armourers built their forges and
his horsemen their stables. A small temple was formed of heavy stones
and dedicated to Odin; and so the northmen made ready their winter
quarters and prepared to follow their daily lives in accordance with
old time customs. There was pure water to be got in abundance from the
higher parts of the river, while fish could be got near hand from out
the sea. When corn and meat fell short, it was an easy matter to make a
foraging raid upon some inland farm or monastery. At such times Olaf
would send forth one of his captains, or himself set out, with a
company of horsemen, and they would ride away through Kent, or even
into Surrey, pillaging and harrying without hindrance, and returning to
the camp after many days driving before them the cattle and swine that
they had taken, each bullock and horse being loaded with bags of corn
or meal.
These journeys were undertaken only for the sake of providing food for
the vikings and not with the thought of conquest. And, indeed, Olaf
would often give ample payment to the folk who were discreet enough to
show him no resistance, for he had a great store of gold and richly
wrought cloth upon his ships, and his heart was always generous. But at
the monasteries and holy places he made no such return, for he vas a
great enemy of Christianity.
All through that winter he remained unmolested, in peaceful possession
of the two towns of Sandwich and Richborough.
Now the monks of Canterbury and Rochester were greatly annoyed by the
near presence of the heathen pirates, and they sent messengers to their
king, telling him that the Norsemen had made this settlement upon his
coasts and imploring his protection. It was no great news to King
Ethelred, however. The Danes and Norwegians had so often made descents
upon the English shores that it seemed to him useless to oppose them;
so he sent word back to the monks that if their monasteries and
churches were in danger it would be well to build them stronger, but
that, for his own part, he had quite enough to trouble him without
raising armies to fight against a pack of wolves. As well, he said,
fight against the sea birds that eat the worms upon our fields.
This calm indifference of the English king only gave greater boldness
to Olaf Triggvison, who very naturally considered that the monarch who
would thus allow an alien foe to settle upon his shores must be a very
child in weakness--a man with no more spirit than a shrew mouse.
Not without cause was King Ethelred nicknamed The Unready. The name
stands not as meaning that he was unprepared, but that he was without
counsel, or "redeless". His advisers were few and, for the most part,
traitorous and unworthy; they swayed him and directed him just as it
suited their own ends, and he had not the manly strength of will that
would enable him to act for himself. Of energy he had more than enough,
but it was always misplaced. In personal character he was one of the
weakest of all the kings of England, and his reign was the worst and
most shameful in English history. In the golden days of his father,
Edgar the Peaceable, all things had gone exceeding well in the land.
There was a strong and well disciplined navy to protect the coasts, and
all intending invaders were held in defiance. Edgar did much for the
good order and prosperity of his kingdom, and he personally saw to the
administration of justice and the forming of good laws; trade and
husbandry were encouraged by him, and commerce with foreign lands was
increased. Archbishop Dunstan was his friend and counsellor. After the
death of Edgar came the short reign of Edward the Martyr, whose murder
at Corfe Castle brought about the fall of Dunstan and the enthronement
of Ethelred.
Ethelred was but ten years old on his coronation at Kingston. Little is
told of the early years of his reign, and nothing to the young king's
credit. Already the great fleet raised by Edgar had disappeared, and
the vikings of the north had begun once more to pillage the coasts.
There were other troubles, too. London was burnt to the ground, a great
murrain of cattle happened for the first time in the English nation,
and a terrible plague carried off many thousands of the people. For
some unknown reason Ethelred laid siege to Rochester, and, failing to
take the town, ravaged the lands of the bishopric. And now, with the
coming of Olaf Triggvison, a new danger was threatening.
Olaf was the first of the vikings to attempt anything like a planned
invasion on a large scale, and his partial success was the signal for a
yet greater descent of the northmen, which had for its object the
conquest of the whole kingdom. It was Olaf Triggvison who, if he failed
in his own attempt, at least pointed out the way by which King Sweyn of
Denmark and his greater son Canute at length gained possession of the
throne of England and infused the nation with the blood which now flows
in the veins of every true born Briton. The ocean loving vikings of the
north were the ancestors of the English speaking people of today. Our
love of the sea and of ships, the roving spirit that has led us to make
great colonies in distant lands, our skill in battle, our love of manly
sports, even perhaps our physical strength and endurance--all these
traits have come to us from our forefathers of Scandinavia. Nor must it
be forgotten that the Normans, who conquered England just five and
seventy years after the landing of Olaf, were themselves the sons of
the vikings. Rolf the Ganger was a famous warrior in the service of
King Harald Fairhair. Exiled by Harald from Norway, he made a
settlement in northern France, whither many of his countrymen followed
him. That part of France was thereafter named Normannia, or
Normandy--the land of the Norsemen. Rolf was there made a duke. His son
William was the father of Richard the Fearless, who was the grandfather
of the great William the Conqueror.
Now, when that same wintertide had passed, and when the new buds were
showing on the trees, Olaf Triggvison arrayed his ships ready for the
sea. Leaving some of his older men in occupation of Sandwich, he stood
out northward past Thanet and across the mouth of the Thames towards
East Anglia, where, as he understood, the bravest of the English people
dwelt. His four best dragonships were commanded by himself, Kolbiorn,
Guthmund, and Justin. His foster brother Thorgils had command of one of
the longships. The fleet numbered forty sail, and each ship was manned
by some two hundred warriors and seamen. When the men were landed to
fight, one third of the company remained behind to guard the ships.
Thus the forces that Olaf usually took ashore with him numbered between
five and six thousand warriors.
The first place at which the vikings landed was at the mouth of a wide
vik, leading far inland. A man named Harald Biornson was the first to
leap ashore. Olaf named the place Harald's vik, but it is in these days
spelled Harwich. Olaf followed the banks of the river for many miles,
pillaging some steads, and carrying off much treasure from a certain
monastery. The monks and friars fought well against him, but were soon
defeated, and their houses and barns were left in flames. Farther
inland the northmen went until they came to a made road, which crossed
the river by a stone bridge. Olaf thought that this road must lead to
some large town, so he took his forces over it northward into Suffolk,
and at length he came within sight of Ipswich, and he resolved to
attack the place. But he was not then prepared to enter battle, as many
of his men had come ashore without their body armour and shields,
deeming these too heavy to carry in sunny weather. So they returned to
the ships and approached the town by way of the sea. They sailed up the
Orwell river, and fell upon the town first with arrow and spear and
then with sword and axe. The men of Ipswich met their foes in the
middle of the town, and there was a great fight. But ere the sun went
down Olaf had got the victory. He pillaged the houses and churches, and
having emptied them of all that was worth taking he carried off the
booty to his ships. He found that this was a good place to harbour his
fleet in for a time, so he remained in Ipswich until the blossom had
fallen from the trees.