King Olaf had now ruled over Norway for three years. In that brief time
he had done more for the country than any king who had gone before him.
He had succeeded in establishing Christianity--not very thoroughly, it
is true, for during the rest of his reign, and for long enough
afterwards, there was plenty of heathenism in Norway; but he did all
that he could to make men Christians, as far as he knew how himself,
and, by his own example of a pure and upright life, he did much to
deepen the feeling that, even in a social sense, the Christian
religion' offered advantages which had never before been enjoyed in the
land. It was noticed almost immediately that there was less bloodshed
among the people than formerly, and that the peasants lived in greater
security. The doctrine of peace upon earth was set forth as one of the
first principles of Olaf's mission, and he was never tired of showing
that, while Odin and Thor took pleasure in bloodshed and rejoiced in
war, Christ the White was a lover of peace, and accorded no merit to
the manslayer.
Olaf made it a law throughout his realm that all men should keep the
Sabbath holy, that they should always fast on Fridays, and that they
should teach their children the Ten Commandments. He could not hope
that grownup people, who had all their lives been accustomed to worship
graven images, would all at once become fervent and devout Christians;
but he clearly saw the importance of bringing up all the children to a
full knowledge of the Christian faith, and accordingly he bade his
priests give constant care to the education of the young.
What King Olaf achieved in Norway he achieved also in the outlying
parts of his dominions. He sent priests into the lands of the Laps and
Fins. It has been told how he sent his priest Thrangbrand to Iceland.
He also sent missions to the Orkney Islands, to the Shetlands, and the
Faroes, and even to so distant a country as Greenland. All these lands
were converted to Christianity during Olaf's brief reign.
But it was not in religious matters alone that Olaf Triggvison
exercised his wisdom and his rule. He encouraged fisheries and
husbandry and handicrafts, and men who had given up their lives to
warfare and vikingry now occupied themselves with useful arts and
industries. Himself a rare sailor, he loved all seamen and shipmen and
shipbuilders, and so that these might have work to do he encouraged
commerce with the lands over sea--with England and Scotland and
Ireland, with Russia, Wendland, Friesland, Flanders, and France.
When he had been in England he had learned something of the good laws
established in that country by King Alfred the Great. He strove to
introduce many of these laws into his own kingdom. Like Alfred the
Great, King Olaf recognized the value of a strong navy, and, so soon as
he had assured himself of the goodwill of his subjects, he levied taxes
upon them, and set about the work of building ships.
The great dragonship which he had taken as a prize of war from Rand the
Wizard was the largest and finest vessel in the Norwegian seas at this
time. The king determined to have a much larger and finer ship built,
one which should surpass in splendour and equipment every vessel that
had been launched in Norway or any other land throughout the ages. On
the banks of the river Nid, at the place where he had built the town of
Nidaros, a great forest of pine trees had been cleared, and there was
timber in plenty ready at hand. There had been two most fruitful
seasons, with good crops, and the country was rich. Olaf himself
possessed more wealth than any monarch in all Scandinavia, and also he
was fortunate in having about him a number of men who were highly
skilled in the work of designing and building ships. So he had a
shipyard prepared under the cliffs of Lade, and he appointed a man
named Thorberg Shafting to be his master builder.
Rand's dragonship, which was named the Serpent, was taken as a model of
the new ship that was to be made, but all her measurements were exactly
doubled, for the new craft was to be twice as long in the keel, twice
as broad in the beam, and twice as great in the scantling. Olaf himself
helped at the work, and laboured as hard as any other two men. Whenever
any difficulty arose he was there to set it right, and all knew that
every part of the work must be well done, that every piece of timber
must be free from rot, and every nail and rivet made of the best metal
or the king would discover the fault and have it undone.
Many men were in the shipyard, some to hew timbers with their heavy
axes, some to fashion iron bolts and bars, and others to spin the
shining flax into the ropes that were to form the rigging. Burly
blacksmiths stood at the roaring forge, wielding huge hammers; sawyers
worked in the pits, making the stout beams and ribs and cutting great
trunks into thin planks. Black cauldrons of boiling tar smoked and
bubbled over the fires. The clattering of hammers, the rasping of saws,
the whirring of wheels, and the clamour of men's voices sounded from
earliest morning until the setting of the sun; and the work went on
apace all day and every day, saving on Sunday, when no man was allowed
to touch a nail or lift a hammer.
On a certain morning in the midsummer, King Olaf was down in the
shipyard. He wore his coarsest and oldest clothes; his thick, strong
arms were bared above the elbows, and his hardened hands were smutched
with tar and nail rust. His head was shielded from the hot sun by a
little cloth cap that was torn in the crown, and his long hair and his
broad back and shoulders were besprinkled with sawdust. Save for his
greater tallness and strength he looked not very different from any of
the workmen about him; and indeed Kolbiorn Stallare, who stood near him
in courtly apparel, might well have been mistaken for the king and the
king for the servant.
Olaf had paused in his work, and was talking with Kolbiorn concerning
some matter of state. As he stood thus, leaning with one elbow on the
long handle of his great sledgehammer, he saw young Einar Eindridson
coming towards him, followed by a woman. The woman seemed to be of
middle age, and she looked weary with travel. As she came nearer, her
eyes rested upon Kolbiorn as though she wished to speak with him.
"Go to her," said the king. And Kolbiorn left Olaf's side and went to
meet her.
"Long have I searched for you, King Olaf," said she, drawing back the
cloak from her head, and letting the sun shine full upon her face. "But
I have found you at last, and now I crave your help for the mercy of
God!"
"You make a mistake, lady," said Kolbiorn; "I am not King Olaf, but
only his servant. Yonder is the king at work among his shipwrights. But
if you would speak with him I will take you to him, for I see that you
are in distress."
So he took her to where Olaf was, and when she stood near him she
looked at him in disbelief, taking him to be but a workman. But when
the king laid down his hammer and stood up at his full height and
uncovered his head, she saw that he was no ordinary man. Her eyes went
to his bare arm, where there still remained the mark branded there in
the days of his bondage in Esthonia.
"By that token do I know you, O king," said she. "But you are taller
and stronger than when last we met."
"In what land and in whose company was that meeting?" asked King Olaf.
"Methinks I have indeed seen you before, but in what circumstances and
at what time I do not call to mind."
"We met long years ago," said she. "First in Wendland, when you were a
guest at the court of King Burislaf; and again when we sat side by side
at the inheritance feast of King Sweyn of Denmark. My name is Thyra.
Harald Bluetooth, king of Denmark, was my father, and I am the sister
of King Sweyn of the Forked beard, who now reigns over all Denmark, and
who has lately wedded with Queen Sigrid of Sweden."
"Right well do I now remember you," returned Olaf. "And well do I mind
that, at that same feast in Denmark, you scorned me because I had been
a slave."
There was a frown upon his brow and a look of mistrust in his eyes; for
he guessed that the coming of this woman was some guileful trick of her
brother Sweyn, whom he knew to be an enemy of his own.
"At the time you speak of," said she, "you were but a heathen viking of
Jomsburg, a lover of warfare, a man who lived by plunder and bloodshed,
who worshipped the pagan gods, and knew not the sweetness of a peaceful
life. But now you are a king--a great and glorious king. And, what is
more, you are a Christian, worshipping the true God, and doing good
deeds for the good Christ's sake."
The look of mistrust now vanished from Olaf's eyes, and gave place to a
look of softness and pity.
"It is because you are a Christian that I have come to you now," she
went on. "For days and weeks I have travelled on foot across the
mountains; and now that I have found you I crave your pity and your
help, for I am in sore distress, and know of none other than you, O
king, to whom I can go for shelter. At the same time that you were
yourself in Wendland, and at the time when Earl Sigvaldi of Jomsburg
was wedded with the Princess Astrid, and my brother Sweyn with her
sister Gunnhild, it was arranged that I too should be wedded. And the
husband whom Sigvaldi and Sweyn chose for me was their father-in-law,
King Burislaf. Now, Burislaf was an elderly man, while I was but a
little girl, and I was sorely against this matter. So I craved that
they would not press me to the marriage, and they yielded so far that I
was left alone for a while.
"Early in this present summer King Burislaf renewed his pleadings that
I should wed with him, and he sent Earl Sigvaldi into Denmark to carry
me away. So well did the Earl prevail with my brother that Sweyn
delivered me into his hands, and also covenanted that the domains in
Wendland which Queen Gunnhild had had should be my dowry.
"Now, already I had become a Christian, and it was little to my
satisfaction that I should become the wife of a pagan king and live for
ever after among heathen folk, so on a certain dark and stormy night I
fled away. A poor fisherman brought me over into Norway, where I knew
that the people were all of the Christian faith, and so, after much
trouble and privation, I have found my way hither."
Thus Thyra spoke with King Olaf. And when she had told him all her
trouble he gave her good counsel and a kindly welcome, and said that
she should always have a peaceful dwelling in his realm.
Now, Olaf Triggvison knew full well that in giving succour to Thyra he
was doing that which would give great offence to King Sweyn of Denmark;
and that Sweyn, when he heard that his sister was here in Norway, would
speedily come over and carry her back to Wendland. Nevertheless, Olaf
thought well of her ways and saw that she was very fair, and it came
into his mind that this would be a good wedding for him. So when Thyra
had been in Nidaros some few weeks he spoke with her again, and asked
her if she would wed him.
Little loth was Thyra to obey his behests, for she deemed herself most
fortunate in that there was a chance of her marrying so noble a king.
So she yielded to him, and their wedding was held in harvest time, and
celebrated according to the Christian rites. From that time onward they
reigned together as king and queen of Norway.
All through that summer King Olaf busied himself in his shipyard, and
in the early autumn the great ship's hull was well nigh finished. At
this time Thorberg, the master shipwright, went home to his farmstead
in Orkadale to gather in his harvest, and he tarried there for many
days. When he came back the bulwarks were all completed.
On the same day of his return the king went down with him to the yard
to see how the vessel looked, and they both agreed that never before
had they seen its equal in size and in beauty of form. All had been
done as Thorberg had designed, and great praise did he win from his
master. But Thorberg said, nevertheless, that there were many things
that he would have improved.
But early the next morning the king and Thorberg went again to the
ship. All the smiths had come thither, but they stood there doing no
work.
"Why are ye standing idle?" demanded Olaf in surprise.
"Because the ship is spoiled, O king," said one of the men, "and there
is no longer any good in her! Some evil minded man has been at work in
the night, undoing all that we have done!"
The king walked round to the ship's side, and lo! every plank along her
bulwarks was hewn and notched and deeply gashed as with an axe.
"Envious mischief maker!" cried the king in a sorrowful voice. Then as
he realized the full extent of the wreckage he swore an oath, and
declared that the man who had thus spoiled the ship should die, and
that he who should discover the evildoer would be well rewarded.
Then Thorberg went to his side, and said he: "Be not so wrathful, O
king. I can tell you who it is that has done this mischief. It was I
who did it."
"You!" cried the king. "You in whom I have trusted so long? You, who
have taken so much pride in the building of this ship? Unhappy man!
Know this, that you shall repair this mischief and make it good, or
else you shall lose your life!"
Thorberg laughed lightly and said: "Little the worse will the ship be
when I have done, lord."
And then he went to the ship and planed out all the notches and cuts,
and made the bulwarks so smooth and fair that all who saw what he did
declared that the ship was made far handsomer than she had been before.
So well pleased was King Olaf that he bade Thorberg do the same on the
other side, and gave him great praise and reward.
Late in the autumn the hull was finished and painted, ready for
launching. Bishop Sigurd sprinkled the vessel's bows with holy water,
and as she slipped over the rollers into the sea King Olaf named her
the Long Serpent.
There was yet much to be done before she would be ready for sea; but
such work as the stepping of her two masts, fitting her standing
rigging, caulking her deck planks, fashioning her cabins, and adorning
her prow and stern could best be done when she was afloat.
The Long Serpent would not be considered a very large vessel in these
modern days, but she was the largest ship known to have been built
before the time of King Canute, and she was, so far as it is possible
to calculate, exactly double the size of the ship in which Columbus
crossed the Atlantic. Her length was not less than two hundred feet.
Her breadth between the gunwales was about forty feet. It is not
probable that she was very deep in the water; but of this there is no
record. She was fitted with thirty-four "rooms" amidships, each room
being divided into two half rooms. These half rooms accommodated eight
men whose duty it was to attend to one of the long oars. Thus, there
were thirty-four pairs of oars and five hundred and seventy-four
rowers. Between the half rooms, and also along the bulwarks, there were
wide gangways, running fore and aft. There was a large forecastle in
which the warriors slept and took their meals, and abaft the main mast
there was another cabin called the "fore-room", in which King Olaf had
his high seat, or throne. Here he held his councils. Here, too, he had
his armour chests. Thirty men lived in the fore-room.
King Olaf's own private cabin was under the "lypting", or poop. It was
very splendidly furnished, with beautifully carved wood and tapestries
of woven silk. Only his chosen companions and his personal servants
were allowed to enter this apartment. Above it there was a large deck
which in the time of battle was occupied by the king and his most
valiant warriors.
The prow of the Long Serpent, which rose high above all other parts of
the hull, took the form of a dragon's head and shoulders. This
ferocious looking monster, with wide open jaws and staring eyes, was
covered with beaten gold. At the vessel's stern stood the dragon's
twisted tail, and this also was plated with gold. Close beside it was
the handle of the steering board, which was usually held, when at sea,
by King Olaf himself or his chief captain.
It was not until the middle of the next springtime that the ship was
ready for sea. Then Olaf had his fair weather sails hoisted. They were
as white as newly fallen snow, with a large blood red cross in the
middle. Banners of silk streamed from the masthead and from the
yardarms, and a most beautiful standard fluttered from a tall staff on
the lypting. The midships tent, which shielded the rowers from the
glare of the strong light, was striped with red and blue. The weather
vanes and the dragon glittered in the sun, and the men on the decks
were arrayed in their best, with their polished brass helmets and gaily
coloured cloaks. King Olaf himself was most splendidly attired. He had
on a newly wrought coat of chain mail, which was partly covered by a
mantle of fine crimson silk. His helmet was made of burnished copper,
inlaid with gold ornaments and surmounted by a gold dragon. Near to
him, as he stood at the tiller, his shield was hung up. It was the same
shield that he had bought from Thangbrand, bearing the image of the
crucifix.
Great crowds of people assembled on the banks of the Nid. They all
thought it a most wonderful sight, and they cheered lustily as, in
answer to a loud blast from the king's bugle horn, the rowers began to
pull. As the great vessel glided out of the river with her eight and
sixty oars moving in regular strokes she looked like a thing of life.
Never in all time or in all lands had such a magnificent ship been seen.
Olaf steered her out into the blue waters of Thrandheim Fiord, and then
as the wind caught her sails the oars were shipped and she sped onward
with such even speed that all were astonished. Not far had she gone
when she came in sight of Olaf's other dragonship--the Short Serpent,
as she was now called--which had been sent out an hour in advance. In
spite of the long start that she had had, the smaller vessel was
quickly overhauled and passed, as though she had not been moving. Olaf
had wanted to have a race; but now he saw that this was useless; for
the Long Serpent had proved herself to be not only the most beautiful
ship to look upon, but also the quickest sailer of all vessels afloat.
Out into the sea he took her. There was a strong breeze blowing and the
sea was rough. She rode easy upon the waves, both before and against
the wind, and Olaf was well pleased. So, when the trial cruise was
over, he returned to Nidaros, satisfied that if ever he should be drawn
into a war with any foreign power he had a battleship which no enemy
could equal.
Now King Olaf lived in happiness and contentment with Queen Thyra, and
there was great love between them. But there was one thing which gave
the queen much trouble, and over which she was for ever fretting. It
was that, by reason of her flight from Wendland, she had forfeited all
the possessions that had been reserved as her dowry. She felt that,
here in Norway, she had no private wealth of her own such as beseemed a
queen, whereas there were her great estates in Wendland and Denmark,
from which large revenues were due. Again and again she spoke to the
king on this matter, praying him with fair words to go and get her her
own. King Burislaf, she declared, was so dear a friend of King Olaf
that so soon as they met he would surely give over to him all that he
craved. But Olaf always shook his head and asked her if she did not
think that there was wealth enough for them both in Norway. But Thyra
was not satisfied with this constant delay. Whenever her husband spoke
with her she always contrived to bring in some peevish mention of her
estates. She wept and prayed and pleaded so often that Olaf's patience
was well nigh exhausted. It seemed that if only for the sake of
domestic peace an expedition to Wendland must soon be brought about.
Nevertheless, all the friends of the king, when they heard of this
talk, advised him against such a journey, for they knew full well that
it must end in a war with the queen's brother, Sweyn Forkbeard. On a
certain day in that same spring, when it was nearing Eastertide, King
Olaf was passing down the street, when by the marketplace a man met
him, and offered to sell him some very fine spring vegetables. Olaf
noticed that he had some large angelica heads. This was a herb very
much valued in those days and eaten as we now eat celery. The king took
a great stalk of the angelica in his hand and went home with it to
Queen Thyra. He found the queen in her hall weeping for her lost
estates.
"See here the big angelica I give thee," said he.
The queen rose and thrust the vegetables contemptuously aside, and,
with the tears streaming down her cheek, cried: "A pretty gift indeed!
Greater gifts did my father, Harald Bluetooth, give me when, as a
child, I got my first tooth! He did not fear to come over here to
Norway and conquer this land; whereas you, with all your boasted glory
and your great ships, are so much afraid of my brother Sweyn that you
dare not venture into Denmark to get me what belongs to me, and of
which I have been shamefully robbed!"
Then up sprang King Olaf and retorted with an angry oath: "Afraid?" he
cried. "Never have I gone in fear of your brother Sweyn, and I am not
afraid of him now. Nay, if we ever meet, he shall surely give way
before me! Now--even now--I will set sail for Wendland, and you shall
have your wretched estates!"