(955-1000)
[Illustration: Boat on the sea. [TN]]
Olaf Tryggveson also makes a great figure in the Faroeer Saga, and
recounts there his early troubles, which were strange and many. He is
still reckoned a grand hero of the North, though his _vates_ now is
only Snorro Sturrleson of Iceland. Tryggveson had indeed many
adventures in the world. His poor mother, Astrid, was obliged to fly
with him, on murder of her husband[10] by Gunhild--to fly for life,
three months before her little Olaf was born. She lay concealed in
reedy island, fled through trackless forests, reached her father's
with the little baby in her arms, and lay deep-hidden there; tended
only by her father himself; Gunhild's pursuit being so incessant and
keen as with sleuth-hounds. Poor Astrid had to fly again deviously to
Sweden, to Esthland (Esthonia), to Russia. In Esthland she was sold as
a slave, quite parted from her boy, who also was sold, and again sold;
but did at last fall in with a kinsman high in the Russian service;
did from him find redemption and help, and so rose, in a distinguished
manner, to manhood, victorious self-help, and recovery of his kingdom
at last. He even met his mother again, he as King of Norway, she as
one wonderfully lifted out of darkness into new life, and happiness
still in store.
[Footnote 10: Tryggve, one of the Norwegian sub-kings, slain
by order of Gunhild, Queen of Norway.]
Grown to manhood, Tryggveson, now become acquainted with his birth,
and with his, alas! hopeless claims, left Russia for the one
profession open to him, that of sea-robbery; and did feats without
number in that questionable line in many seas and scenes,--in England
latterly, and most conspicuously of all. In one of his courses
thither, after long labors in the Hebrides, Man, Wales, and down the
western shores to the very Land's End and farther, he paused at the
Scilly Islands for a little while. He was told of a wonderful
Christian hermit living strangely in these sea-solitudes; had the
curiosity to seek him out, examine, question, and discourse with him;
and, after some reflection, accepted Christian baptism from the
venerable man. In Snorro the story is involved in miracle, rumor, and
fable; but the fact itself seems certain, and is very interesting; the
great, wild, noble soul of fierce Olaf opening to this wonderful
gospel of tidings from beyond the world, tidings which infinitely
transcended all else he had ever heard or dreamt of! It seems certain
he was baptized here; date not fixable; shortly before poor
heart-broken Dunstan's death, or shortly after; most English churches,
monasteries especially, lying burnt, under continual visitation of the
Danes. Olaf, such baptism notwithstanding, did not quit his viking
profession; indeed, what other was there for him in the world as yet?
We mentioned his occasional copartneries with Svein of the
Double-beard, now become King of Denmark, but the greatest of these,
and the alone interesting at this time, is their joint invasion of
England, and Tryggveson's exploits and fortunes there some years after
that adventure of baptism in the Scilly Isles. Svein and he "were
above a year in England together," this time: they steered up the
Thames with three hundred ships and many fighters; siege, or at least
furious assault, of London was their first or main enterprise, but it
did not succeed. The "Saxon Chronicle" gives date to it, A.D. 994, and
names expressly, as Svein's copartner, "Olaus, King of Norway,"--which
he was as yet far from being; but in regard to the Year of Grace the
"Saxon Chronicle" is to be held indisputable, and, indeed, has the
field to itself in this matter. But finding London impregnable for the
moment (no ship able to get athwart the bridge, and many Danes
perishing in the attempt to do it by swimming), Svein and Olaf turned
to other enterprises; all England in a manner lying open to them, turn
which way they liked. They burnt and plundered over Kent, over
Hampshire, Sussex; they stormed far and wide; world lying all before
them where to choose. Wretched Ethelred, as the one invention he could
fall upon, offered them Danegelt (L16,000 of silver this year, but it
rose in other years as high as L48,000); the desperate Ethelred, a
clear method of quenching fire by pouring _oil_ on it! Svein and Olaf
accepted; withdrew to Southampton--Olaf at least did--till the money
was got ready. Strange to think of, fierce Svein of the Double-beard,
and conquest of England by him; this had at last become the one
salutary result which remained for that distracted, down-trodden, now
utterly chaotic and anarchic country. A conquering Svein, followed by
an ably and earnestly administrative, as well as conquering, Knut
(whom Dahlmann compares to Charlemagne), were thus by the mysterious
destinies appointed the effective saviours of England.
[Illustration: A Norse raid under Olaf.]
Tryggveson, on this occasion, was a good while at Southampton; and
roamed extensively about, easily victorious over everything, if
resistance were attempted, but finding little or none; and acting now
in a peaceable or even friendly capacity. In the Southampton country
he came in contact with the then Bishop of Winchester, afterward
Archbishop of Canterbury, excellent Elphegus, still dimly decipherable
to us as a man of great natural discernment, piety, and inborn
veracity; a hero-soul, probably of real brotherhood with Olaf's own.
He even made court visits to King Ethelred; one visit to him at
Andover of a very serious nature. By Elphegus, as we can discover, he
was introduced into the real depths of the Christian faith. Elphegus,
with due solemnity of apparatus, in presence of the king, at Andover
baptized Olaf anew, and to him Olaf engaged that he would never
plunder in England any more; which promise, too, he kept. In fact, not
long after, Svein's conquest of England being in an evidently forward
state, Tryggveson (having made, withal, a great English or Irish
marriage,--a dowager princess, who had voluntarily fallen in love with
him,--see Snorro for this fine romantic fact!) mainly resided in our
island for two or three years, or else in Dublin, in the precincts of
the Danish Court there in the Sister Isle. Accordingly it was in
Dublin, as above noted, that Hakon's spy found him; and from the
Liffey that his squadron sailed, through the Hebrides, through the
Orkneys, plundering and baptizing in their strange way, toward such
success as we have seen.[11]
[Footnote 11: Hakon, now King of Norway, sent a spy to learn
if Olaf thought of regaining his inheritance. Guided by the
spy, Olaf did sail with his fleet for Norway, found the
people there in unexpected rebellion against Hakon's tyranny,
set himself at their head, easily overthrew the king,
executed him amid general rejoicing and established himself
upon the throne.]
Tryggveson made a stout, and, in effect, victorious and glorious
struggle for himself as king. Daily and hourly vigilant to do so,
often enough by soft and even merry methods,--for he was a witty,
jocund man, and had a fine ringing laugh in him, and clear pregnant
words ever ready,--or if soft methods would not serve, then by hard,
and even hardest, he put down a great deal of miscellaneous anarchy in
Norway; was especially busy against heathenism (devil-worship and its
rites): this, indeed, may be called the focus and heart of all his
royal endeavor in Norway, and of all the troubles he now had with his
people there. For this was a serious, vital, all-comprehending matter:
devil-worship, a thing not to be tolerated one moment longer than you
could by any method help! Olaf's success was intermittent, of varying
complexion; but his effort, swift or slow, was strong and continual;
and on the whole he did succeed. Take a sample or two of that
wonderful conversion process:
At one of his first Things he found the Bonders all assembled in arms;
resolute to the death seemingly, against his proposal and him.
Tryggveson said little; waited impassive, "What your reasons are, good
men?" One zealous Bonder started up in passionate parliamentary
eloquence; but after a sentence or two broke down; one, and then
another, and still another, and remained all three staring in
open-mouthed silence there! The peasant-proprietors accepted the
phenomenon as ludicrous, perhaps partly as miraculous withal, and
consented to baptism this time.
On another occasion of a Thing, which had assembled near some heathen
temple to meet him,--temple where Hakon Jarl had done much repairing,
and set up many idol figures and sumptuous ornaments, regardless of
expense, especially a very big and splendid Thor, with massive gold
collar round the neck of him, not the like of it in Norway,--King
Tryggveson was clamorously invited by the Bonders to step in there,
enlighten his eyes, and partake of the sacred rites. Instead of which
he rushed into the temple with his armed men; smashed down, with his
own battle-axe, the god Thor prostrate on the floor at one stroke, to
set an example; and in a few minutes had the whole Hakon Pantheon
wrecked; packing up, meanwhile, all the gold and preciosities
accumulated there (not forgetting Thor's illustrious gold collar, of
which we shall hear again), and victoriously took the plunder home
with him for his own royal uses and behoof of the state.
By unwearied industry of this and better kinds, Tryggveson had
trampled down idolatry, so far as form went,--how far in substance may
be greatly doubted. But it is to be remembered withal, that always on
the back of these compulsory adventures there followed English
bishops, priests, and preachers; whereby to the open-minded,
conviction, to all degrees of it, was attainable, while silence and
passivity became the duty or necessity of the unconvinced party.
In about two years Norway was all gone over with a rough harrow of
conversion. Heathenism at least constrained to be silent and outwardly
conformable. Tryggveson next turned his attention to Iceland, sent one
Thangbrand, priest from Saxony, of wonderful qualities, military, as
well as theological, to try and convert Iceland. Thangbrand made a few
converts; for Olaf had already many estimable Iceland friends, whom he
liked much, and was much liked by; and conversion was the ready road
to his favor. Thangbrand, I find, lodged with Hall of Sida (familiar
acquaintance of "Burnt Njal," whose Saga has its admirers among us
even now). Thangbrand converted Hall and one or two other leading men;
but in general he was reckoned quarrelsome and blusterous rather than
eloquent and piously convincing. Two skalds of repute made biting
lampoons upon Thangbrand, whom Thangbrand, by two opportunities that
offered, cut down and did to death because of their skaldic quality.
Another he killed with his own hand, I know not for what reason. In
brief, after about a year, Thangbrand returned to Norway and King
Olaf, declaring the Icelanders to be a perverse, satirical, and
inconvertible people, having himself, the record says, been "the death
of three men there." King Olaf was in high rage at this result; but
was persuaded by the Icelanders about him to try farther, and by a
milder instrument. He accordingly chose one Thormod, a pious, patient,
and kindly man, who, within the next year or so, did actually
accomplish the matter; namely, get Christianity, by open vote,
declared at Thingvalla by the general Thing of Iceland there; the roar
of a volcanic eruption at the right moment rather helping the
conclusion, if I recollect. Whereupon Olaf's joy was no doubt great.
One general result of these successful operations was the discontent,
to all manner of degrees, on the part of many Norse individuals,
against this glorious and victorious, but peremptory and terrible king
of theirs. Tryggveson, I fancy, did not much regard all that; a man of
joyful, cheery temper, habitually contemptuous of danger. Another
trivial misfortune that befell in these conversion operations, and
became important to him, he did not even know of, and would have much
despised if he had. It was this: Sigrid, queen-dowager of Sweden,
thought to be among the most shining women of the world, was also
known for one of the most imperious, revengeful, and relentless, and
had got for herself the name of Sigrid the Proud. In her high
widowhood she had naturally many wooers; but treated them in a manner
unexampled.
In spite of which, however, there went from Tryggveson, who was now a
widower, some incipient marriage proposals to this proud widow; by
whom they were favorably received; as from the brightest man in all
the world, they might seem worth being. Now, in one of these
anti-heathen onslaughts of King Olaf's on the idol temples of
Hakon--(I think it was that case where Olaf's own battle-axe struck
down the monstrous refulgent Thor, and conquered an immense gold ring
from the neck of him, or from the door of his temple)--a huge gold
ring, at any rate, had come into Olaf's hands; and this he bethought
him might be a pretty present to Queen Sigrid, the now favorable,
though the proud. Sigrid received the ring with joy; fancied what a
collar it would make for her own fair neck; but noticed that her two
goldsmiths, weighing it on their fingers, exchanged a glance. "What is
that?" exclaimed Queen Sigrid. "Nothing," answered they, or endeavored
to answer, dreading mischief. But Sigrid compelled them to break open
the ring; and there was found, all along the inside of it, an occult
ring of copper, not a heart of gold at all! "Ha," said the proud
queen, flinging it away, "he that could deceive in this matter can
deceive in many others!" And was in hot wrath with Olaf; though, by
degrees, again she took milder thoughts.
Milder thoughts, we say; and consented to a meeting next autumn at
some half-way station, where their great business might be brought to
a happy settlement and betrothment. Both Olaf Tryggveson and the high
dowager appear to have been tolerably of willing mind at this meeting;
but Olaf interposed, what was always one condition with him, "Thou
must consent to baptism, and give up thy idol-gods." "They are the
gods of all my forefathers," answered the lady; "choose thou what gods
thou pleasest, but leave me mine." Whereupon an altercation; and
Tryggveson, as was his wont, towered up into shining wrath, and
exclaimed at last, "Why should I care about thee then, old faded
heathen creature?" And impatiently wagging his glove, hit her, or
slightly switched her, on the face with it, and contemptuously turning
away, walked out of the adventure. "This is a feat that may cost thee
dear one day," said Sigrid. And in the end it came to do so, little as
the magnificent Olaf deigned to think of it at the moment.
Olaf Tryggveson, though his kingdom was the smallest of the Norse
Three, had risen to a renown over all the Norse world which neither he
of Denmark nor he of Sweden could pretend to rival. A magnificent,
far-shining man; more expert in all "bodily exercises," as the Norse
called them, than any man had ever been before him, or after was.
Could keep five daggers in the air, always catching the proper fifth
by its handle, and sending it aloft again; could shoot supremely,
throw a javelin with either hand; and, in fact, in battle usually
threw two together. These, with swimming, climbing, leaping, were the
then admirable Fine Arts of the North; in all which Tryggveson appears
to have been the Raphael and the Michael Angelo at once. Essentially
definable, too, if we look well into him, as a wild bit of real
heroism, in such rude guise and environment; a high, true, and great
human soul. A jovial burst of laughter in him, too; a bright, airy,
wise way of speech; dressed beautifully and with care; a man admired
and loved exceedingly by those he liked; dreaded as death by those he
did not like. "Hardly any king," says Snorro, "was ever so well
obeyed, by one class out of zeal and love, by the rest out of dread."
His glorious course, however, was not to last long.
King Svein of the Double-beard had not yet completed his conquest of
England,--by no means yet, some thirteen horrid years of that still
before him!--when, over in Denmark, he found that complaints against
him and intricacies had arisen, on the part principally of one
Burislav, King of the Wends (far up the Baltic), and in a less degree
with the King of Sweden and other minor individuals. Svein earnestly
applied himself to settle these, and have his hands free. Burislav, an
aged heathen gentleman, proved reasonable and conciliatory; so, too,
the King of Sweden, and Dowager Queen Sigrid, his managing mother.
Bargain in both these cases got sealed and crowned by marriage. Svein,
who had become a widower lately, now wedded Sigrid; and might think,
possibly enough, he had got a proud bargain, though a heathen one.
Burislav also insisted on marriage with Princess Thyri, the
Double-beard's sister. Thyri, inexpressibly disinclined to wed an aged
heathen of that stamp, pleaded hard with her brother; but the
Double-bearded was inexorable; Thyri's wailings and entreaties went
for nothing. With some guardian foster-brother, and a serving-maid or
two, she had to go on this hated journey. Old Burislav, at sight of
her, blazed out into marriage feast of supreme magnificence, and was
charmed to see her, but Thyri would not join the marriage party,
refused to eat with it or sit with it at all. Day after day, for six
days, flatly refused; and after nightfall of the sixth, glided out
with her foster-brother into the woods, into by-paths and
inconceivable wanderings; and, in effect, got home to Denmark. Brother
Svein was not for the moment there; probably enough gone to England
again. But Thyri knew too well he would not allow her to stay here, or
anywhere that he could help, except with the old heathen she had just
fled from.
Thyri, looking round the world, saw no likely road for her, but to
Olaf Tryggveson in Norway; to beg protection from the most heroic man
she knew of in the world. Olaf, except by renown, was not known to
her; but by renown he well was. Olaf, at sight of her, promised
protection and asylum against all mortals. Nay, in discoursing with
Thyri Olaf perceived more and more clearly what a fine handsome being,
soul and body, Thyri was; and in a short space of time winded up by
proposing to Thyri, who, humbly, and we may fancy with what secret
joy, consented to say yes, and become Queen of Norway. In the due
months they had a little son, Harald; who, it is credibly recorded,
was the joy of both his parents; but who, to their inexpressible
sorrow, in about a year died, and vanished from them. This, and one
other fact now to be mentioned, is all the wedded history we have of
Thyri.
The other fact is, that Thyri had, by inheritance or covenant, not
depending on her marriage with old Burislav, considerable properties
in Wendland, which she often reflected might be not a little
behooveful to her here in Norway, where her civil-list was probably
but straitened. She spoke of this to her husband; but her husband
would take no hold, merely made her gifts, and said, "Pooh, pooh,
can't we live without old Burislav and his Wendland properties?" So
that the lady sank into ever deeper anxiety and eagerness about this
Wendland object; took to weeping; sat weeping whole days; and when
Olaf asked, "What ails thee, then?" would answer, or did answer once,
"What a different man my father Harald Gormson was" (vulgarly called
Blue-tooth), "compared with some that are now kings! For no King Svein
in the world would Harald Gormson have given up his own or his wife's
just rights!" Whereupon Tryggveson started up, exclaiming, in some
heat, "Of thy brother Svein I never was afraid; if Svein and I meet in
contest, it will not be Svein, I believe, that conquers;" and went off
in a towering fume. Consented, however, at last, had to consent, to
get his fine fleet equipped and armed, and decide to sail with it to
Wendland to have speech and settlement with King Burislav.
Tryggveson had already ships and navies that were the wonder of the
North. Especially in building war-ships--the Crane, the Serpent, last
of all the Long Serpent--he had, for size, for outward beauty, and
inward perfection of equipment, transcended all example.
This new sea expedition became an object of attention to all
neighbors; especially Queen Sigrid the Proud and Svein Forkbeard, her
now king, were attentive to it.
"This insolent Tryggveson," Queen Sigrid would often say, and had long
been saying, to her Svein, "to marry thy sister without leave had or
asked of thee; and now flaunting forth his war navies, as if he, king
only of paltry Norway, were the big hero of the North! Why do you
suffer it, you kings really great?"
By such persuasions, and reiterations, King Svein of Denmark, King
Olaf of Sweden, and Jarl Eric,[12] now a great man there, grown rich
by prosperous sea-robbery and other good management, were brought to
take the matter up, and combine strenuously for destruction of King
Olaf Tryggveson on this grand Wendland expedition of his. Fleets and
forces were with best diligence got ready; and, withal, a certain Jarl
Sigwald of Jomsburg, chieftain of the Jomsvikings, a powerful,
plausible, and cunning man, was appointed to find means of joining
himself to Tryggveson's grand voyage; of getting into Tryggveson's
confidence, and keeping Svein Forkbeard, Eric, and the Swedish king
aware of all his movements.
[Footnote 12: Eric, son of King Hakon.]
King Olaf Tryggveson, unacquainted with all this, sailed away in
summer, with his splendid fleet; went through the Belts with
prosperous winds, under bright skies, to the admiration of both
shores. Such a fleet, with its shining Serpents, long and short, and
perfection of equipment and appearance, the Baltic never saw before.
Jarl Sigwald joined with new ships by the way. "Had," he too, "a visit
to King Burislav to pay; how could he ever do it in better company?"
and studiously and skilfully ingratiated himself with King Olaf. Old
Burislav, when they arrived, proved altogether courteous, handsome,
and amenable; agreed at once to Olaf's claims for his now queen, did
the rites of hospitality with a generous plenitude to Olaf; who
cheerily renewed acquaintance with that country, known to him in early
days (the cradle of his fortunes in the viking line), and found old
friends there still surviving, joyful to meet him again. Jarl Sigwald
encouraged these delays, King Svein & Co. not being yet quite ready.
"Get ready!" Sigwald directed them, and they diligently did. Olaf's
men their business now done, were impatient to be home, and grudged
every day of loitering there; but, till Sigwald pleased, such his
power of flattering and cajoling Tryggveson, they could not get away.
At length, Sigwald's secret messengers reporting all ready on the part
of Svein & Co., Olaf took farewell of Burislav and Wendland, and all
gladly sailed away. Svein, Eric, and the Swedish king, with their
combined fleets, lay in wait behind some cape in a safe little bay of
some island, then called Svolde, but not in our time to be found: the
Baltic tumults in the fourteenth century having swallowed it, as some
think, and leaving us uncertain whether it was in the neighborhood of
Rugen Island or in the Sound of Elsinore. There lay Svein, Eric & Co.
waiting till Tryggveson and his fleet came up, Sigwald's spy
messengers daily reporting what progress he and it had made. At
length, one bright summer morning, the fleet made appearance, sailing
in loose order, Sigwald, as one acquainted with the shoal places,
steering ahead, and showing them the way.
Snorro rises into one of his pictorial fits, seized with enthusiasm at
the thought of such a fleet, and reports to us largely in what order
Tryggveson's winged Coursers of the Deep, in long series, for perhaps
an hour or more, came on, and what the three potentates, from their
knoll of vantage, said of each as it hove in sight. Svein thrice over
guessed this and the other noble vessel to be the Long Serpent; Eric
always correcting him: "No, that is not the Long Serpent yet" (and
aside always), "Nor shall you be lord of it, King, when it does come."
The Long Serpent itself did make appearance. Eric, Svein, and the
Swedish king hurried on board, and pushed out of their hiding-place
into the open sea. Treacherous Sigwald, at the beginning of all this,
had suddenly doubled that cape of theirs, and struck into the bay out
of sight, leaving the foremost Tryggveson ships astonished, and
uncertain what to do, if it were not simply to strike sail and wait
till Olaf himself with the Long Serpent arrived.
Olaf's chief captains, seeing the enemy's huge fleet come out, and how
the matter lay, strongly advised King Olaf to elude this stroke of
treachery, and, with all sail, hold on his course, fight being now on
so unequal terms. Snorro says, the king, high on the quarter-deck
where he stood, replied, "Strike the sails! never shall men of mine
think of flight. I never fled from battle. Let God dispose of my
life; but flight I will never take." And so the battle arrangements
immediately began, and the battle with all fury went loose, and lasted
hour after hour, till almost sunset, if I well recollect. "Olaf stood
on the Serpent's quarter-deck," says Snorro, "high over the others. He
had a gilt shield and a helmet inlaid with gold; over his armor he had
a short red coat, and was easily distinguished from other men."
Snorro's account of the battle is altogether animated, graphic, and so
minute that antiquaries gather from it, if so disposed (which we but
little are), what the methods of Norse sea-fighting were; their
shooting of arrows, casting of javelins, pitching of big stones,
ultimately boarding, and mutual clashing and smashing, which it would
not avail us to speak of here. Olaf stood conspicuous all day,
throwing javelins, of deadly aim, with both hands at once;
encouraging, fighting, and commanding like a highest sea-king.
The Danish fleet, the Swedish fleet, were, both of them, quickly dealt
with, and successively withdrew out of shot-range. And then Jarl Eric
came up, and fiercely grappled with the Long Serpent, or, rather, with
her surrounding comrades; and gradually, as they were beaten empty of
men, with the Long Serpent herself. The fight grew ever fiercer, more
furious. Eric was supplied with new men from the Swedes and Danes;
Olaf had no such resource, except from the crews of his own beaten
ships; and at length this also failed him; all his ships, except the
Long Serpent, being beaten and emptied. Olaf fought on unyielding.
Eric twice boarded him, was twice repulsed. Olaf kept his
quarter-deck; unconquerable, though left now more and more hopeless,
fatally short of help. A tall young man, called Einar Tamberskelver,
very celebrated and important afterward in Norway, and already the
best archer known, kept busy with his bow. Twice he nearly shot Jarl
Eric in his ship. "Shoot me that man," said Jarl Eric to a bowman near
him; and, just as Tamberskelver was drawing his bow the third time, an
arrow hit it in the middle and broke it in two. "What is this that has
broken?" asked King Olaf. "Norway from thy hand, King," answered
Tamberskelver. Tryggveson's men, he observed with surprise, were
striking violently on Eric's; but to no purpose; nobody fell. "How is
this?" asked Tryggveson. "Our swords are notched and blunted, King;
they do not cut." Olaf stept down to his arm-chest; delivered out new
swords; and it was observed as he did it, blood ran trickling from his
wrist; but none knew where the wound was. Eric boarded a third time.
Olaf, left with hardly more than one man, sprang overboard (one sees
that red coat of his still glancing in the evening sun), and sank in
the deep waters to his long rest.
Rumor ran among his people that he still was not dead; grounding on
some movement by the ships of that traitorous Sigwald, they fancied
Olaf had dived beneath the keels of his enemies, and got away with
Sigwald, as Sigwald himself evidently did. "Much was hoped, supposed,
spoken," says one old mourning Skald; "but the truth was, Olaf
Tryggveson was never seen in Norseland more." Strangely he remains
still a shining figure to us; the wildly beautifullest man, in body
and in soul, that one has ever heard of in the North.