three children, two daughters and a son. And Birkabeyn fell sick, and
knowing that death had stricken him, he called for Godard, whom
he thought his truest friend, and said, "Godard, here I commend my
children to thee. Care for them, I pray thee, and bring them up as
befits the children of a king. When the boy is grown and can bear a
helm upon his head and wield a spear, I charge thee to make him king
of Denmark. Till then hold my estate and royalty in charge for him."
And Godard swore to guard the children zealously, and to give up the
kingdom to the boy. Then Birkabeyn died and was buried. But no sooner
was the King laid in his grave than Godard despised his oath; for he
took the children, Havelok and his two little sisters, Swanborough and
Helfled, and shut them up in a castle with barely clothes to cover
them. And Havelok, the eldest, was scarce three years old.
One day Godard came to see the children, and found them all crying
of hunger and cold; and he said angrily, "How now! What is all this
crying about?" The boy Havelok answered him, "We are very hungry, for
we get scarce anything to eat. Is there no more corn, that men cannot
make bread and give us? We are very hungry." But his little sisters
only sat shivering with the cold, and sobbing, for they were too young
to be able to speak. The cruel Godard cared not. He went to where the
little girls sat, and drew his knife, and took them one after another
and cut their throats. Havelok, seeing this sorry sight, was terribly
afraid, and fell down on his knees begging Godard to spare his life.
So earnestly he pleaded that Godard was fain to listen: and listening
he looked upon the knife, red with the children's blood; and when he
saw the still, dead faces of the little ones he had slain, and looked
upon their brother's tearful face praying for life, his cruel courage
failed him quite. He laid down the knife. He would that Havelok were
dead, but feared to slay him for the silence that would come. So the
boy pleaded on; and Godard stared at him as though his wits were gone;
then turned upon his heel and came out from the castle. "Yet," he
thought, "if I should let him go, one day he may wreak me mischief and
perchance seize the crown. But if he dies, my children will be lords
of Denmark after me." Then Godard sent for a fisherman whose name
was Grim, and he said, "Grim, you know you are my bondsman. Do now my
bidding, and to-morrow I shall make thee free and give thee gold and
land. Take this child with thee to-night when thou goest a fishing,
and at moonrise cast him in the sea, with a good anchor fast about
his neck to keep him down. To-day I am thy master and the sin is mine.
To-morrow thou art free."
Then Grim took up the child and bound him fast, and having thrust a
gag into his mouth so that he could not speak, he put him in a bag and
took him on his back and carried him home. When Grim got home his wife
took the bag from off his shoulders and cast it upon the ground within
doors; and Grim told her of his errand. Now as it drew to midnight he
said, "Rise up, wife, and blow up the fire to light a candle, and get
me my clothes, for I must be stirring." But when the woman came into
the room where Havelok lay, she saw a bright light round the boy's
head, like a sunbeam, and she called to her husband to come and see.
And when he came they both marveled at the light and what it might
mean, for it was very bright and shining. Then they unbound Havelok
and took away the gag, and turning down his shirt they found a
king-mark fair and plain upon his right shoulder. "God help us, wife,"
said Grim, "but this is surely the heir of Denmark, son of Birkabeyn
our King! Ay, and he shall be King in spite of Godard." Then Grim fell
down at the boy's feet and said, "Forgive me, my King, that I knew thee
not. We are thy subjects and henceforth will feed and clothe thee till
thou art grown a man and can bear shield and spear. Then deal thou
kindly by me and mine, as I shall deal with thee. But fear not Godard.
He shall never know, and I shall be a bondsman still, for I will never
be free till thou, my King, shall set me free."
Then was Havelok very glad, and he sat up and begged for bread. And
they hastened and fetched bread and cheese and butter and milk; and
for very hunger the boy ate up the whole loaf, for he was well-nigh
famished. And after he had eaten, Grim made a fair bed and undressed
Havelok and laid him down to rest, saying, "Sleep, my son; sleep fast
and sound and have no care, for nought shall harm thee."
On the morrow Grim went to Godard, and telling him he had drowned the
boy, asked for his reward. But Godard bade him go home and remain a
bondsman, and be thankful that he was not hanged for so wicked a deed.
After a while Grim, beginning to fear that both himself and Havelok
might be slain, sold all his goods, his corn, and cattle, and fowls,
and made ready his little ship, tarring and pitching it till not a
seam nor a crack could be found, and setting a good mast and sail
therein. Then with his wife, his three sons, his two daughters, and
Havelok, he entered into the ship and sailed away from Denmark; and a
strong north wind arose and drove the vessel to England, and carried
it up the Humber so far as Lindesay, where it grounded on the sands.
Grim got out of the boat with his wife and children and Havelok, and
then drew it ashore.
On the shore he built a house of earth and dwelt therein, and from
that time the place was called Grimsby, after Grim.
Grim did not want for food, for he was a good fisherman both with
net and hook, and he would go out in his boat and catch all manner of
fish--sturgeons, turbot, salmon, cod, herrings, mackerel, flounders,
and lampreys, and he never came home empty-handed. He had four baskets
made for himself and his sons, and in these they used to carry the
fish to Lincoln, to sell them, coming home laden with meat and meal,
and hemp and rope to make new nets and lines. Thus they lived for
twelve years. But Havelok saw that Grim worked very hard, and being
now grown a strong lad, he bethought him "I eat more than Grim and all
his five children together, and yet do nothing to earn the bread. I
will no longer be idle, for it is a shame for a man not to work." So
he got Grim to let him have a basket like the rest, and next day took
it out heaped with fish, and sold them well, bringing home silver
money for them. After that he never stopped at home idle. But soon
there arose a great dearth, and corn grew so dear that they could not
take fish enough to buy bread for all. Then Havelok, since he needed
so much to eat, determined that he would no longer be a burden to
the fisherman. So Grim made him a coat of a piece of an old sail, and
Havelok set off to Lincoln barefoot to seek for work.
It so befell that Earl Godrich's cook, Bertram, wanted a scullion, and
took Havelok into his service. There was plenty to eat and plenty to
do. Havelok drew water and chopped wood, and brought twigs to make
fires, and carried heavy tubs and dishes, but was always merry and
blythe. Little children loved to play with him; and grown knights and
nobles would stop to talk and laugh with him, although he wore nothing
but rags of old sail-cloth which scarcely covered his great limbs, and
all admired how fair and strong a man God had made him. The cook liked
Havelok so much that he bought him new clothes, with shoes and hose;
and when Havelok put them on, no man in the kingdom seemed his peer
for strength and beauty. He was the tallest man in Lincoln, and the
strongest in England.
Earl Godrich assembled a Parliament in Lincoln, and afterward held
games. Strong men and youths came to try for mastery at the game of
putting the stone. It was a mighty stone, the weight of an heifer. He
was a stalwart man who could lift it to his knee, and few could stir
it from the ground. So they strove together, and he who put the stone
an inch farther than the rest was to be made champion. But Havelok,
though he had never seen the like before, took up the heavy stone, and
put it twelve feet beyond the rest, and after that none would contend
with him. Now this matter being greatly talked about, it came to the
ears of Earl Godrich, who bethought him--"Did not Athelwold bid me
marry his daughter to the strongest man alive? In truth, I will marry
her to this cook's scullion. That will abase her pride; and when she
is wedded to a bondsman she will be powerless to injure me. That will
be better than shutting her up; better than killing her." So he sent
and brought Goldborough to Lincoln, and set the bells ringing, and
pretended great joy, for he said, "Goldborough, I am going to marry
thee to the fairest and stalwartest man living." But Goldborough
answered she would never wed any one but a king. "Ay, ay, my girl;
and so thou wouldst be queen and lady over me? But thy father made
me swear to give thee to the strongest man in England, and that is
Havelok, the cook's scullion; so willing or not willing to-morrow thou
shalt wed." Then the earl sent for Havelok and said, "Master, will you
marry?" "Not I," said Havelok; "for I cannot feed nor clothe a wife.
I have no house, no cloth, no victuals. The very clothes I wear do not
belong to me, but to Bertram the cook, as I do." "So much the better,"
said the earl; "but thou shalt either wed her that I shall bring
thee, or else hang from a tree. So choose." Then Havelok said he would
sooner wed. Earl Godrich went back to Goldborough and threatened
her with burning at the stake unless she yielded to his bidding. So,
thinking it God's will, the maid consented. And on the morrow
they were wed by the Archbishop of York, who had come down to the
Parliament, and the earl told money out upon the mass-book for her
dower.
Now after he was wed, Havelok knew not what to do, for he saw how
greatly Earl Godrich hated him. He thought he would go and see Grim.
When he got to Grimsby he found that Grim was dead, but his children
welcomed Havelok and begged him bring his wife thither, since they
had gold and silver and cattle. And when Goldborough came, they made
a feast, sparing neither flesh nor fowl, wine nor ale. And Grim's sons
and daughters served Havelok and Goldborough.
Sorrowfully Goldborough lay down at night, for her heart was heavy
at thinking she had wedded a bondsman. But as she fretted she saw a
light, very bright like a blaze of fire, which came out of Havelok's
mouth. And she thought, "Of a truth but he must be nobly born." Then
she looked on his shoulder, and saw the king mark, like a fair cross
of red gold, and at the same time she heard an angel say--
"Goldborough, leave sorrowing, for Havelok is a king's son, and shall
be king of England and of Denmark, and thou queen."
Then was Goldborough glad, and kissed Havelok, who, straightway
waking, said, "I have had a strange dream. I dreamed I was on a high
hill, whence I could see all Denmark; and I thought as I looked that
it was all mine. Then I was taken up and carried over the salt sea to
England, and methought I took all the country and shut it within my
hand." And Goldborough said, "What a good dream is this! Rejoice, for
it means that thou shalt be king of England and of Denmark. Take now
my counsel and get Grim's sons to go with thee to Denmark."
In the morning Havelok went to the church and prayed to God to speed
him in his undertaking. Then he came home and found Grim's three
sons just going off fishing. Their names were Robert the Red, William
Wendut, and Hugh Raven. He told them who he was, how Godard had slain
his sisters, and delivered him over to Grim to be drowned, and how
Grim had fled with him to England. Then Havelok asked them to go with
him to Denmark, promising to make them rich men. To this they gladly
agreed, and having got ready their ship and victualed it, they set
sail with Havelok and his wife for Denmark. The place of their landing
was hard by the castle of a Danish earl named Ubbe, who had been a
faithful friend to King Birkabeyn. Havelok went to Earl Ubbe, with a
gold ring for a present, asking leave to buy and sell goods from
town to town in that part of the country. Ubbe, beholding the tall,
broad-shouldered, thick-chested man, so strong and cleanly made,
thought him more fit for a knight than for a peddler. He bade Havelok
bring his wife and come and eat with him at his table. So Havelok went
to fetch Goldborough, and Robert the Red and William Wendut led her
between them till they came to the castle, where Ubbe, with a great
company of knights, welcomed them gladly. Havelok stood a head taller
than any of the knights, and when they sat at table Ubbe's wife ate
with him, and Goldborough with Ubbe. It was a great feast, and after
the feast Ubbe sent Havelok and his friends to Bernard Brown, bidding
him take care of them till next day. So Bernard received the guests
and gave them a fine supper.
Now in the night there came sixty-one thieves to Bernard's house. Each
had a drawn sword and a long knife, and they called to Bernard to undo
the door. He started up and armed himself, and told them to go away.
But the thieves defied him, and with a great boulder broke down the
door. Then Havelok, hearing the din, rose up, and seizing the bar of
the door stood on the threshold and threw the door wide open, saying,
"Come in, I am ready for you!" First came three against him with their
swords, but Havelok slew these with the door bar at a single blow; the
fourth man's crown he broke; he smote the fifth upon the shoulders,
the sixth athwart the neck, and the seventh on the breast; so they
fell dead. Then the rest drew back and began to fling their swords
like darts at Havelok, till they had wounded him in twenty places. In
spite of that, in a little while he had killed a score of the thieves.
Then Hugh Raven, waking up, called Robert and William Wendut. One
seized a staff, each of the others a piece of timber as big as his
thigh, and Bernard his axe, and all three ran out to help Havelok.
So well did Havelok and his fellows fight, breaking ribs and arms and
shanks, and cracking crowns, that not a thief of all the sixty-one was
left alive. Next morning, when Ubbe rode past and saw the sixty-one
dead bodies, and heard what Havelok had done, he sent and brought both
him and Goldborough to his own castle, and fetched a leech to tend his
wounds, and would not hear of his going away; for, said he, "This man
is better than a thousand knights."
Now that same night, after he had gone to bed, Ubbe awoke about
midnight and saw a great light shining from the chamber where Havelok
and Goldborough lay. He went softly to the door and peeped in to
see what it meant. They were lying fast asleep, and the light was
streaming from Havelok's mouth. Ubbe went and called his knights, and
they also came in and saw this marvel. It was brighter than a hundred
burning tapers; bright enough to count money by. Havelok lay on his
left side with his back towards them, uncovered to the waist; and they
saw the king-mark on his right shoulder sparkle like shining gold and
carbuncle. Then knew they that it was King Birkabeyn's son, and seeing
how like he was to his father, they wept for joy. Thereupon Havelok
awoke, and all fell down and did him homage, saying he should be their
king. On the morrow Ubbe sent far and wide and gathered together earl
and baron, dreng [servant] and thane, clerk, knight and burgess, and
told them all the treason of Godard, and how Havelok had been nurtured
and brought up by Grim in England. Then he showed them their King, and
the people shouted for joy at having so fair and strong a man to rule
them. And first Ubbe sware fealty to Havelok, and after him the others
both great and small. And the sheriffs and constables and all that
held castles in town or burg came out and promised to be faithful to
him. Then Ubbe drew his sword and dubbed Havelok a knight, and set a
crown upon his head and made him King. And at the crowning they held
merry sports--jousting with sharp spears, tilting at the shield,
wrestling, and putting the shot. There were harpers and pipers and
gleemen with their tabors; and for forty days a feast was held with
rich meats in plenty and the wine flowed like water. And first the
King made Robert and William Wendut and Hugh Raven barons, and gave
them land and fee. Then when the feast was done, he set out with
a thousand knights and five thousand sergeants to seek for Godard.
Godard was a-hunting with a great company of men, and Robert riding on
a good steed found him and bade him to come to the King. Godard smote
him and set on his knights to fight with Robert and the King's men.
They fought till ten of Godard's men were slain; the rest began to
flee. "Turn again, O knights!" cried Godard; "I have fed you and shall
feed you yet. Forsake me not in such a plight." So they turned about
and fought again. But the King's men slew every one of them, and took
Godard and bound him and brought him to Havelok. Then King Havelok
summoned all his nobles to sit in judgment and say what should be done
to such a traitor. And they said, "Let him be dragged to the gallows
at the mare's tail, and hanged by the heels in fetters, with this
writing over him: 'This is he that drove the King out of the land, and
took the life of the King's sisters.'" So Godard suffered his doom,
and none pitied him.
Then Havelok gave his scepter into Earl Ubbe's hand to rule Denmark
on his behalf, and after that took ship and came to Grimsby, where
he built a priory for black monks to pray evermore for the peace of
Grim's soul. But when Earl Godrich understood that Havelok and his
wife were come to England, he gathered together a great army at
Lincoln on the 17th of March, and came to Grimsby to fight with
Havelok and his knights. It was a great battle, wherein more than
a thousand knights were slain. The field was covered with pools of
blood. Hugh Raven and his brothers, Robert and William, did valiantly
and slew many earls; but terrible was Earl Godrich to the Danes, for
his sword was swift and deadly. Havelok came to him and reminding him
of the oath he sware to Athelwold that Goldborough should be queen,
bade him yield the land. But Godrich defied him, and running forward
with his heavy sword cut Havelok's shield in two. Then Havelok smote
him to the earth with a blow upon the helm; but Godrich arose and
wounded him upon the shoulder, and Havelok, smarting with the cut, ran
upon his enemy and hewed off his right hand. Then he took Earl Godrich
and bound him and sent him to the Queen. And when the English knew
that Goldborough was the heir of Athelwold, they laid by their swords
and came and asked pardon of the Queen. And with one accord they took
Earl Godrich and bound him to a stake and burned him to ashes, for the
great outrage he had done.
Then all the English nobles came and sware fealty to Havelok and
crowned him King in London. Of Grim's two daughters, Havelok wedded
Gunild, the elder, to Earl Reyner of Chester; and Levive, the younger,
fair as a new rose blossom opening to the sun, he married to Bertram,
the cook, whom he made Earl of Cornwall in the room of Godrich.
Sixty years reigned Havelok and Goldborough in England, and they had
fifteen children, who all became kings and queens. All the world spake
of the great love that was between them. Apart, neither knew joy or
happiness. They never grew weary of each other, for their love was
ever new; and not a word of anger passed between them all their lives.
THE VIKINGS
ADAPTED BY MARY MACGREGOR
I
CHARACTERS OF THE VIKINGS
In Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, in all the villages and towns around
the shores of the Baltic, the viking race was born.
It has been said that the name "vikings" was first given to those
Northmen who dwelt in a part of Denmark called Viken. However that
may be, it was the name given to all the Northmen who took to a wild,
sea-roving life, because they would often seek shelter with their
boats in one or another of the numerous bays which abounded along
their coasts.
Thus the vikings were not by any means all kings, as you might think
from their name; yet among them were many chiefs of royal descent.
These, although they had neither subjects nor kingdoms over which to
rule, no sooner stepped on board a viking's boat to take command of
the crew, than they were given title of king.
The Northmen did not, however, spend all their lives in harrying and
burning other countries. When the seas were quiet in the long,
summer days, they would go off, as I have told you, on their wild
expeditions. But when summer was over, and the seas began to grow
rough and stormy, the viking bands would go home with their booty and
stay there, to build their houses, reap their fields, and, when spring
had come again, to sow their grain in the hope of a plenteous harvest.
There was thus much that the viking lad had to learn beyond the art
of wielding the battle-axe, poising the spear, and shooting an arrow
straight to its mark. Even a free-born yeoman's son had to work, work
as hard as had the slaves or thralls who were under him.
The old history books, or Sagas, as the Norseman called them, have,
among other songs, this one about the duties of a well-born lad:
"He now learnt
To tame oxen
And till the ground,
To timber houses
And build barns,
To make carts
And form plows."
Indeed, it would have surprised you to see the fierce warriors and
mighty chiefs themselves laying aside their weapons and working in the
fields side by side with their thralls, sowing, reaping, threshing.
Yet this they did.
Even kings were often to be seen in the fields during the busy harvest
season. They would help their men to cut the golden grain, and with
their own royal hands help to fill the barn when the field was reaped.
To king and yeomen alike, work, well done, was an honorable deed.
Long before the Sagas were written down, the stories of the heroes
were sung in halls and on battle-fields by the poets of the nation.
These poets were named skalds, and their rank among the Northmen was
high.
Sometimes the Sagas were sung in prose, at other times in verse.
Sometimes they were tales which had been handed down from father to
son for so many years that it was hard to tell how much of them was
history, how much fable. At other times the Sagas were true accounts
of the deeds of the Norse kings. For the skalds were ofttimes to be
seen on the battle-fields or battleships of the vikings, and then
their songs were of the brave deeds which they had themselves seen
done, of the victories and defeats at which they themselves had been
present.
The battles which the vikings fought were fought on the sea more
frequently than on the land.
Their warships were called long-ships and were half-decked The rowers
sat in the center of the boat, which was low, so that their oars could
reach the water. Sails were used, either red or painted in different
stripes, red, blue, yellow, green. These square, brightly colored
sails gave the boats a gay appearance which was increased by the
round shields which were hung outside the gunwale and which were
also painted red, black, or white. At the prow there was usually a
beautifully carved and gorgeously painted figurehead. The stem and
stern of the ships were high. In the stern there was an upper deck,
but in the forepart of the vessel there was nothing but loose planks
on which the sailors could step. When a storm was raging or a battle
was being fought, the loose planks did not, as you may imagine, offer
a very firm foothold.
The boats were usually built long and pointed for the sake of speed,
and had seats for thirty rowers. Besides the rowers, the long-boats
could hold from sixty to one hundred and fifty sailors.
II
HARALD FAIRHAIR
Harald Fairhair was one of the foremost of the kings of Norway. He was
so brave a Northman that he became king over the whole of Norway.
In eight hundred and sixty-one, when he began to reign, Norway was
divided into thirty-one little kingdoms, over each of which ruled a
little king. Harald Fairhair began his reign by being one of these
little kings.
Harald was only a boy, ten years of age, when he succeeded his father;
but as he grew up he became a very strong and handsome man, as well as
a very wise and prudent one. Indeed he grew so strong that he fought
with and vanquished five great kings in one battle.
After this victory, Harald sent, so the old chronicles of the kings
of Norway say, some of his men to a princess named Gyda, bidding them
tell her that he wished to make her his queen.
But Gyda wished to marry a king who ruled over a whole country,
rather than one who owned but a small part of Norway, and this was the
message she sent back to Harald:
"Tell Harald," said the maiden, "that I will agree to be his wife if
he will first, for my sake, subdue all Norway to himself, for only
thus methinks can he be called the king of a people."