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Olaf the Glorious: A Story of the Viking Age

by Robert Leighton · English · Gutenberg #9415 · 497,653 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Olaf the Glorious: A Story of the Viking Age

Author: Robert Leighton


        
Release date: December 1, 2005 [eBook #9415]
                Most recently updated: August 15, 2012

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9415

Credits: Produced by Martin Robb


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLAF THE GLORIOUS: A STORY OF THE VIKING AGE ***




Produced by Martin Robb









OLAF THE GLORIOUS A STORY OF THE VIKING AGE

BY ROBERT LEIGHTON



PREFACE


The following narrative is not so much a story as a biography. My hero
is not an imaginary one; he was a real flesh and blood man who reigned
as King of Norway just nine centuries ago. The main facts of his
adventurous career--his boyhood of slavery in Esthonia, his life at the
court of King Valdemar, his wanderings as a viking, the many battles he
fought, his conversion to Christianity in England, and his ultimate
return to his native land--are set forth in the various Icelandic sagas
dealing with the period in which he lived. I have made free use of
these old time records, and have added only such probable incidents as
were necessary to give a continuous thread of interest to the
narrative. These sagas, like the epics of Homer, were handed down from
generation to generation by word of mouth, and they were not committed
to writing until a long time after Olaf Triggvison's death, so that it
is not easy to discriminate between the actual facts as they occurred
and the mere exaggerated traditions which must surely have been added
to the story of his life as it was told by the old saga men at their
winter firesides. But in most instances the records corroborate each
other very exactly, and it may be taken that the leading incidents of
the story are historically true.

The Icelandic sagas have very little to say concerning Olaf
Triggvison's unsuccessful invasion of England, and for this part of the
story I have gone for my facts to the English chronicles of the time,
wherein frequent allusion to him is made under such names as Anlaf,
Olave, and Olaff. The original treaty of peace drawn up between King
Ethelred the Second and Olaf still exists to fix the date of the
invasion, while the famous battle of Maldon, in which the Norse
adventurer gained a victory over the East Anglians, is described at
length by a nameless contemporary poet, whose "Death of Brihtnoth"
remains as one of the finest of early English narrative poems, full of
noble patriotism and primitive simplicity.

I have given no dates throughout these pages, but for the convenience
of readers who may wish for greater exactness it may be as well to
state here that Olaf was born A.D. 963, that he started on his
wanderings as a viking in the year 981, that the sea fight between the
vikings of Jomsburg and the Norwegians took place in 986, and the
battle of Maldon in the year 991. Olaf reigned only five years as King
of Norway, being crowned in 995, and ending his reign with his death in
the glorious defeat at Svold in the year 1000.

ROBERT LEIGHTON.



CHAPTER I: THE FINDING OF OLAF


It happened in the beginning of the summer that Sigurd Erikson
journeyed north into Esthonia to gather the king's taxes and tribute.
His business in due course brought him into a certain seaport that
stood upon the shores of the great Gulf of Finland.

He was a very handsome man, tall and strong, with long fair hair and
clear blue eyes. There were many armed servants in his following, for
he was a person of great consequence, and was held in high honour
throughout the land.

He rode across the marketplace and there alighted from his horse, and
turned his eyes towards the sea. Before him stretched the rippling,
sunlit bay with its wooded holms. A fleet of fishing boats was putting
out with the flood tide, and some merchant vessels lay at anchor under
shelter of the green headland.

Nearer to the strand a long dragonship, with a tall gilded prow rising
high above the deck tent, was moored against a bank of hewn rock that
served as a wharf. At sight of the array of white shields along this
vessel's bulwarks his eyes brightened, for he knew that she was a
viking ship from his own birth land in distant Norway, and he was glad.
Not often did it chance that he could hold speech with the bold
warriors of the fiords.

Close by the ship there was a noisy crowd of men and boys. He strode
nearer to them, and heard the hoarse voices of the vikings calling out
in loud praise of a feat that had been performed by someone in their
midst. Sigurd joined the crowd, and saw a boy step out upon the
vessel's narrow gangplank, and there, standing between the ship and the
shore, begin to throw a knife high up into the sunny air, catching it
as it fell.

It seemed that the lad was of good station, for his clothing was of
finely woven cloth, and there was a gold neckband to his kirtle, and
his long black hair was well combed and curled. Thrice he threw up his
glittering knife high above his head and deftly caught it again. But
soon, thinking perhaps to excel those who had gone before him, he took
a second knife from his belt, and juggled with them both with such
skill that the shipmen watching him from under the awning swore by the
hammer of Thor that the feat could never be surpassed.

"Well done, well done!" they shouted. And the boys on the bank cried
out, "Well done, Rekoni!"

At this the youth put fuller strength into his arms and flung the
knives yet higher into the air. But his ambition for the praise of the
warriors was greater than his caution, for, in reaching forward to
catch one of the weapons, he lost his balance and fell headlong into
the deep green water beneath. And as he swam to shore the vikings
laughed aloud, and some who had thought of giving him a reward put back
their gold into their wallets and turned away.

Now, very close to where Sigurd Erikson was there stood two boys, whose
close cropped hair and dress of coarse white vadmal showed them to be
slaves. One of them was a tall, gaunt youth, with pale thin cheeks and
large sad eyes. He was fair of skin, and by this Sigurd knew that he
was not an Esthonian. His companion seemed about twelve winters old,
sturdy and broad backed, with very fair hair. His neck and bare strong
arms were burnt by the sun to a ruddy brown. Sigurd could not see his
face, and might not have noticed him had not the elder lad urged him
forward, bidding him step upon the plank and show his skill.

"Not I," said the younger, with an impatient toss of his cropped head.
And he thrust his thumbs into his belt and drew back. "Too much have I
already done in bidding Rekoni try the feat. Well is it for me that he
is not hurt by his fall into the sea, else would his father's whip be
about my back. Even as the matter stands, my master will surely stop my
food for having left his sheep to stray upon the hills."

"I had but wished to see you succeed where your master's son has
failed," sighed the elder lad. And at this the boy turned round and
said more softly:

"Well, Thorgils, for your pleasure will I do it, and not for the
vikings' praise. Lend me your dirk."

So he took the knife from Thorgils' belt, and, leaving the crowd,
walked boldly to the end of the gangplank. Here he rubbed the soles of
his bare feet in the dust and then stepped to the middle of the narrow
board.

"Now what thinks this child that he can do?" cried one of the vikings.

The boy turned sharply and looked at the man who had spoken. He was a
tall, red bearded man, whose nose was flat against his scarred, bronzed
face. At sight of him the boy drew back a pace as if in fear.

"Ay. What thinks the babe that he can do?" echoed another of the
warriors. But those who were nearer made no answer, for they saw that
the boy was very agile and strong beyond his years.

Sigurd watched him as he took his stand on the plank. The sunlight
shone upon his fair young face. His clear blue eyes flashed like stars
under his knitted brows. He ran his fingers over his short yellow hair,
and then, turning with his back to the sun, flung one of his knives
high up into the air. As it turned in its descent he flung a second
knife, then caught the first and again threw it high--higher even than
the vane on the ship's tall mast. He stood with his bare feet firmly
gripping the plank, and his head thrown back, and his lithe, well
balanced body swaying in regular movement with his arms. Then as the
two gleaming weapons were well in play, rising and falling in quick
succession, one of his hands went to his belt, and he drew yet a third
knife and plied it in turn with the other two.

At this there was a murmur of praise from both ship and shore, and the
vikings declared that never before had they seen one so young display
such skill. And all the while Sigurd Erikson kept his eyes upon the
lad's glowing, upturned face.

"Who is this child?" he asked of the tall youth at his side. But the
sad eyed Thorgils paid no heed to the question, but only crept nearer
to the end of the gangboard, and stood there earnestly watching. As he
looked at the ship's bulwarks he caught sight of the man with the red
beard and broken nose--the chief of the vikings,--and he cried out to
his companion:

"Enough, Ole, enough!"

Then the boy caught his knives and thrust them one by one into his
belt, and, turning shoreward, strode quickly down the plank and made
his way through the cheering crowd, followed by Thorgils. Many of the
vikings called him back with offers of reward, and Sigurd Erikson tried
to arrest him as he passed. But the young slave only gave a careless
laugh and ran swiftly away.

Now it seemed that Sigurd had a mind to go after him. But as he was
leaving the crowd he met a certain rich merchant of the town, and he
said:

"Tell me, Biorn, who is this yellow haired lad that has just proved
himself so skilful at the knife feat? And whence came he into Esthonia?"

The merchant shook his head and said:

"He is a wild and wilful loon, hersir, and of no account to any man. As
to his feat with the knives, had I my will I'd have it instant death to
any thrall who should so much as touch a sharpened weapon."

"By his looks I would judge him to be Norway born," said Sigurd.

"That may well be," returned the merchant, "for it is true that he came
with the west wind. It was I who bought him from the vikings, with
another of his kind--one Thorgils, who is to this day my bond slave. I
bought them in exchange for a good he goat from Klerkon Flatface. Very
soon I found the younger lad was worthless. There was little that I
could do with him; so I sold him to a dalesman named Reas, who gave me
a very fine rain cloak for him; nor do I rue my bargain, for the cloak
is still in use and the lad is scarcely of the value of his food and
shelter."

"How do men name the lad?" inquired Sigurd. "And whose son is he?"

"Whose son he may be is no concern of mine," answered the merchant.
"Some viking's brat, it may be; for he has the viking spirit in him,
and the salt of the sea is in his veins. No landman can tame him. As to
his name, if ever he had one, 'tis certain he has none now, and is only
known as Reasthrall, for he is the thrall of Reas the bonder."

"If it be that Reas will sell his thrall," said Sigurd, "then I would
willingly buy the lad, and take him back with me into Holmgard as an
offering to the Queen Allogia."

"Think twice ere you act so unkindly towards the queen," said the
merchant. "A goodlier gift for Allogia would surely be the jewelled
brooch that I showed you yesternight; and you shall have it very cheap.
The price is but twelve gold marks."

But before Sigurd could reply a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder,
and a gruff voice called out his name. He turned and saw at his side
the tall red bearded viking chief, whose broken nose and coarse scarred
face were now shielded from the sun's rays by a wide hat made of dry
reeds.

"Well met, Hersir Sigurd!" said the warrior. "And what lordly business
brings you north to the coast? 'Tis long since last we met--not since
the yuletide feast at Holmgard, two winters back, when we had the horse
fight. How fares the Flanders mare that won such glory at that time?"

"A sickness killed her," answered Sigurd. "But I have a foal in
training that will soon beat any horse in Holmgard; ay, even in Norway.
So if you have a mind to see a good horse fight, come when you will
with the best horses you can find. I wager you that mine will beat them
all."

"If I meet not my death before the end of the cruising season," said
the viking, "then will I engage to bring you the best horse in all the
Norseland to fight against." He looked among the crowd of boys that
still loitered near the ship, and added--"Where has the youngster gone
who stood just now upon the plank? He has in him the makings of a good
war man. Such lads as he are scarce, and I would buy him if he be for
sale."

And then the merchant spoke.

"Why," said he, addressing the viking, "'tis but six summers since that
you sold that self same boy, here on this marketplace. 'Twas I who
bought him from you, Klerkon. Have you forgotten the white haired he
goat that you got from me?"

"Life is too full for me to keep mind of such small events," answered
Klerkon. "But since the lad is yours, what price do you now put upon
him?"

"Nay, he is no chattel of mine," said the merchant. "He is the thrall
of goodman Reas, over in Rathsdale--a morning's walk from here. If you
would deal with him a guide will soon be got to take you over the hill."

"Young flesh will keep," returned the warrior. "I will buy the lad next
time we come to Esthonia."

Sigurd said: "It may be that ere that time he will already be sold,
Jarl Klerkon; for it chances that I also have taken a fancy to him."

"In that case," said the viking, "we may make him the stake to be
fought for in our coming horse fight. And if my horse overcomes yours,
then the lad shall be my prize, and I will make a viking of him."

"And how if the victory be mine and not yours?" asked Sigurd.

"You shall have value equal to the boy, be assured of that, hersir."

"Agreed," said Sigurd. "And now, what news have you from west over sea?"

"Ill news and good. There has fallen a great famine in Norway. In
Thrandheim the folk are dying for lack of corn and fish, and in
Halogaland the snow has lain over the valleys nigh until midsummer, so
that all the livestock have been bound in stall and fed upon birch
buds. Men lay the famine to the account of Gunnhild's sons, who are
over greedy of money and deal hardly with the husbandmen. There is
little peace in the land, for the kings are for ever quarrelling over
their jointures; but it seems that Harald Greyfell is having the upper
hand over his brothers. Little joy is there in ruling over a realm
these days. I had rather be as I am, an honest sea rover."

"Doubtless the viking life is, after all, the most joyful that a man
can live," said Sigurd. "How fare our friends at Jomsburg?"

"Right well, as always," answered Klerkon. "Sigvaldi has built himself
a fine new dragonship of five and twenty seats, and the Jomsvikings now
number in all seven times ten hundred men. They speak of making a sally
across the sea to Angle land, where there is corn and ale in plenty,
with fine clothes, good arms, and vessels of silver and gold to be won;
for these Christian folk are very rich, and there is abundance of
treasure in their churches, with many a golden bowl and well wrought
drinking horn as booty for those who are bold enough to make the
adventure."

"But these Angles are good fighting men, I hear," said Sigurd. "And
they have many well built ships."

"They are ill matched against the vikings, with all their ships,"
returned Klerkon. "And I am told that their king is a man of peace;
Edgar the Peaceable, they name him. And talking of kings, how fares
King Valdemar?"

"As sunny as a summer's noon," answered Sigurd.

"Come, then, on board my ship, and let us pledge to him in a full horn
of mead," said the viking. And he drew Sigurd with him across the
gangplank, and they went below and sat drinking until one of the
shipmen standing on the vessel's lypting, or poop deck, sounded a
shrill horn as a sign that the ship was about to leave the harbour.

Then Sigurd came ashore and went about the town on the king's business,
and he thought no more of the yellow haired slave boy until the evening
time.

It chanced then that he was again beside the sea.

Down there on the shore he stood alone, idly watching the white winged
seabirds--some floating in their own reflections on the calm pools of
water left by the outgoing tide, others seeking food amid the green and
crimson weeds that lay in bright patches on the rocks--and often he
turned his eyes in the direction of the setting sun, where, in the mid
sea, Jarl Klerkon's dragonship moved slowly outward, with her wet oars
glistening in the rosy light.

Suddenly from behind him there came a merry childish laugh, and he
turned quickly round, and saw very near to him the white clothed slave
boy of the gangplank. The lad was standing at the brink of a deep pool
of seawater, and had, as it seemed, started a fleet of empty mussel
shells to float upon the calm surface. He was dropping pebbles from his
full hand into the water, to give movement to the tiny boats.

Sigurd stepped quietly behind him, and then said:

"Why do you thus set these shells to sail?"

The boy looked up in surprise, and his blue eyes rested for a long time
upon the tall strange man. Then he answered:

"Because, hersir, they are my warships, setting out upon a viking
cruise."

At this Sigurd smiled.

"It may be, my boy," said he, "that you will yourself command great
ships of war in time to come."

"That is what I should wish," said the boy, "for then I might take
blood vengeance upon my enemies."

"Not often do I hear one so young thus speak of enemies," said Sigurd.
"What is your age?"

"Ten winters."

"And your name?"

The boy looked up once more into the stranger's face, and at his large
crested helmet of bronze and gold. He glanced, too, at the man's great
sword and his cloak of rich blue cloth, and guessed rightly that he was
of noble rank. There was a smile upon his lips, and his eyes were
tender and kindly, winning confidence.

"My name is Olaf," answered the boy.

"Whose son?" asked Sigurd.

At this question Olaf turned aside, threw his pebbles away into the
water, and wiped his wet hands on his coarse kirtle. Then stepping
nearer to the stranger he stood upright and said, almost in a whisper,
as though fearing that even the seagulls might overhear him:

"I am King Triggvi's son."

Sigurd drew back with a little start.

"King Triggvi's son!" he echoed in surprise. And then he looked yet
more keenly into the boy's face, as if to seek some likeness there.

"Even so," returned Olaf. "And what of that? Little good can it do me
to be a king's son if I am also a slave, made to work hard for my daily
portion of black bread and tough horse flesh. Triggvi is in Valhalla,
with Harald Fairhair and the rest of them, and he cannot help me now.
But Odin be thanked, he died not like a cow upon a bed of straw, but
with sword in hand like a brave good man."

"A brave good man in truth he was," said Sigurd. "But tell me, boy,
what token have you to prove that you are indeed the child of Triggvi
Olafson? You are but ten winters old, you say; and yet, as I reckon it,
Triggvi was slain full ten winters back. How can I know the truth of
what you tell?"

"No token have I but my bare words," answered Olaf proudly.

Sigurd caught him by the hand and led him up the beach to a ledge of
rock, and sat him down before him, bidding him tell how it came about
that he was here in bondage in a foreign land.

So Olaf answered him thus:

"I came into the world an orphan," said he, "and never heard my
father's voice. But my mother bade me ever remember that I was a king's
son, and to make myself worthy. Astrid was the name of my mother. She
was the daughter of Erik Biodaskalli, who dwelt at Ofrestead, in the
Uplands, a mighty man. Now, after the slaying of Triggvi, Queen Astrid
was forced to fly from the realm of Viken, lest she too should fall
into the hands of Gunnhild and her wicked sons and be slain. And she
travelled as a fugitive through many lands. In her company was her
foster father, Thoralf Loosebeard by name. He never departed from her,
but always helped her and defended her wheresoever she went. There were
many other trusty men in her train, so no harm came to her. And at last
she took refuge on a certain islet in the middle of Rand's fiord, and
lay hidden there for many days. On that islet I was born, and I am told
that they sprinkled me with water and named me Olaf, after my father's
father. There, through the summer tide she stayed in safety. But when
the days grew short and the nights weary and long, and when the wintry
weather came upon us, then she left her hiding place and set forth with
her folk into the Uplands, travelling under the shelter of night. And
after many hardships and dangers she came to Ofrestead, her father's
dwelling, and there we abode through the winter.

"Little do I remember of these matters, which befell while yet I was a
babe in arms. This that I tell you was taught to me by Thorgils, my
foster brother, who is the thrall of Biorn the merchant; and he can
tell you more than I know, for he is older than I, and the son of our
faithful Thoralf. Thorgils has said that when Gunnhild got tidings that
I had come into the world she sent forth many armed messengers, and
bade them fare into the Uplands in search of this son of King Triggvi,
that they might prevent my growing up to manhood and claiming my
father's realm. But in good time the friends of Erik were aware of the
messengers; so Erik arrayed Astrid for departure, and gave her good
guides, and sent her east--away into the Swede realm to one Hakon
Gamle, a friend of his and a man of might, with whom we abode in all
welcome for a long while."

"And what then?" urged Sigurd. For the boy had paused, and had pulled a
tangle of brown seaweed from the rock where he was sitting, and was
cracking the little air bladders between his fingers.

"Now it chanced," continued Olaf, "that even again Queen Gunnhild
secretly learned our hiding place. So she sent a goodly company east to
the Swede king with good gifts and fair words, asking that he might
send Olaf Triggvison back with them into Norway, where Gunnhild would
foster me, and bring me up as became a king's son. And the king sent to
Ofrestead. But my mother Astrid knew that there was treachery in
this--for in like manner had Gunnhild beguiled my father,--and she
would by no means let me go into the care' of my father's murderers,
and so Gunnhild's messengers went back empty handed.

"By this time I was full three winters old and strong of limb, and my
mother took me on board a trading ship that was eastward bound for
Gardarike; for in that land her brother was a great man, and she knew
that he would gladly succour us until I should be of an age to avenge
my father's death and claim my rightful heritage."

At these words Sigurd grew very grave, and he put his hand gently on
Olaf's arm, and asked to know what ill had befallen Queen Astrid, and
whether she had reached her journey's end.

"Alas!" answered Olaf. "You ask me what I cannot tell. Would that I
knew her to be still living! But never once have I seen her or heard
tidings of her since the dread day when we were brought into this land
and sold into bondage."

As he spoke the lad looked sadly over the sea to where the viking ship
was slowly drifting into the shadow of the holms. Sigurd's eyes dwelt
upon him with curious intentness.

"We set sail across the Eastern Sea," Olaf went on "and there were many
merchants on our ship with great store of money and rich merchandise.
And, as always, Thoralf and his son Thorgils were with us. Now,
scarcely was our vessel beyond the sight of land when we were met by a
great viking ship, that bore down quickly upon us, and attacked our
seamen, first with arrows and stones, and then with spear and sword,
and there was great fighting. So the vikings killed many of our people,
and took our ship and all that was in it. When we had been made
captives the rovers took and shared us among themselves as their bond
slaves, and it befell that my mother and I were parted. An Esthonian
named Klerkon Flatface got me as his portion, along with Thoralf and
Thorgils. Klerkon deemed Thoralf over old for a thrall, and could not
see any work in him, so he cruelly slew him before our eyes and cast
his body into the sea. But he had us two lads away with him, and he
sold us here in the marketplace in exchange for a white goat. Then,
being companions in our misfortune, Thorgils and I swore foster
brotherhood, and we took an oath in handshaking that when we grew
strong enough we would go out upon the sea and take vengeance upon the
man who had slain old faithful Thoralf."

Sigurd pointed outward to the ship that was afar off upon the dim
horizon.

"Jarl Klerkon, of whom you speak," said he, "is now upon yonder ship."

"And well do I know it," returned Olaf. "Today when I stood upon the
vessel's gangplank I saw him standing on the lypting; and I knew him by
the token that his nose was flat against his face. I had a mind to
throw one of my knives at him, but there were over many of his men
around, who would soon have overpowered me had I been so rash. And
now," the boy added, as he glanced up at the darkening sky, "it is time
that I go back to the hills to gather my master's sheep into the fold,
for the night will be dark, and wolves will be about. Too long already
have I tarried here."

And before Sigurd could put out his hand to detain him Olaf had bounded
up the rocks, and was soon lost to sight.



CHAPTER II: SIGURD ERIKSON.


On the next morning, as the red sun rose above the mist capped hills of
Rathsdale, Olaf was at work among his master's swine, cleaning out the
styes and filling them with new straw. As he worked he asked himself
who the tall man could be who had spoken with him last night upon the
beach, and he began to regret that he had told so much, believing now
that the stranger might be an enemy--perhaps even a spy of the wicked
Queen Gunnhild, who had so often sought to add to her own security by
clearing her path of all who had power to dispute her rights. Gunnhild
was a very wily woman, and it might well be that she had secretly
discovered the abiding place of the young son of King Triggvi, and that
she had sent this man into Esthonia to entrap him.

"Never again shall I be so free in telling my story to a stranger,"
said Olaf to himself. "Thorgils was wise to counsel me to keep secret
my kinship with Triggvi Olafson. When I am a man, and can fight my own
battles, then it will be time enough to lay claim to my father's realm;
and it may be that if I remain in thraldom till that time no one will
guess who I am. As a thrall, then, I must work, even though that work
be no better than the cleaning of my master's stables and pig
styes--Get back, you greedy grunter!"

This last command was addressed to a great bristly boar that brushed
past the boy and made its way to the bed of new straw. Olaf caught the
animal by its hind leg and struggled with it for a moment, until the
boar was thrown heavily on its side, squealing and kicking furiously.
Then three of the other pigs rushed forward, and one knocked against
the lad with such force that he fell on his knees. This made him very
angry, and he rose quickly to his feet and wrestled with the pigs,
driving them back with blows of his clenched hands. But the boar was
not easily turned. It stood stubbornly glaring at him with its small
bloodshot eyes, then suddenly charged at him with a savage roar. Olaf
leapt up, but too slowly, for his left foot was caught by the boar's
high back, and he rolled over in the mire. And now his wrath got the
better of him, and he leapt at the boar with a wild cry, seizing its
ears in his two hands. Then they struggled together for many minutes,
now rolling over, now breaking asunder and again returning to the
charge. But at last Olaf gained the mastery, and his adversary lay
panting and exhausted on the coveted straw. Olaf sat upon the animal's
side with his bare foot upon its snout. His arm was bleeding, and there
was a long scratch upon his cheek. But he did not heed his wounds, for
he had conquered.

As he sat thus a shadow moved across the yellow straw. He raised his
eyes, and beheld the faces of two men, who looked down upon him from
over the barrier of the pig sty. One of the men was his master, Reas.
The other he quickly recognized as the tall man who had spoken with him
last night. Sigurd Erikson was seated on a beautiful white horse, and
he was arrayed as for a long journey.

"This is the boy you mean," said Reas, as Olaf rose and went on with
his work--"an ill favoured loon you will think him. But had I expected
you I should have seen that he had been well washed and decently
clothed. If you would have him for hard labour, however, he is at least
strong, and I will warrant you that he is healthy, and has no bodily
faults. It may be that he is a little wild and wilful, but you can tame
him, and a sound flogging will do him no harm, as I have ofttimes
found. What price do you offer for him, hersir?"

Olaf looked up in anxious surprise, wondering if in truth the stranger
had come to buy him, so that he might carry him off to the wicked Queen
Gunnhild.

"I will give you two silver marks for him," said Sigurd, "and that is
the value of a full grown man slave."

Reas demurred, looking at Olaf as if regretting that the lad was not
more presentable.

"No," he said at last. "You will not find such a thrall as he in every
day's march. If he were but a little cleaner you would see that he is a
very pretty boy. Look at his eyes--keen as a young snake's! Why, no
woman's eyes are more beautiful! Look at his skin, there where his
kirtle is torn. Is it not fair? And he is skilled in many feats. My own
son Rekoni is not more clever than he. He can run for half a day
without being wearied. He can climb the highest pine tree in
Rathsdale--as he did last seed time to harry a bluejay's nest; and no
seamew can swim more lightly on the water."

"As to his climbing," said Sigurd, with a curious look in his blue
eyes, "I do not doubt that he will some day climb much higher than you
list. But swimming is of little avail where there is no sea. And if he
runs so well there is all the more danger of his running away. I think
you will be well paid if I give you two silver marks. But since you set
so high a value on him for his beauty and his skill, then I give you in
addition this little ring of gold for your good wife's wearing. What
say you?"

"It is a bargain!" said Reas, eagerly grasping the ring that Sigurd
took from his belt pouch; "and you may take the lad at once."

Olaf drew back to the far corner of the pig sty. There was a frown on
his brow, and his blue eyes flashed in quick anger.

"I will not go!" he said firmly, and he made a rapid movement to leap
over the barrier; but he forgot the wound in his arm, and the pain of
it made him so awkward that Reas caught him by his wrists and held him
there until Sigurd, springing from his horse, came and put an iron
chain round the lad's neck. Then the two men forcibly drew him to the
gate of the pig sty. So, when Reas had opened the gate, Sigurd, who was
a very powerful man, caught Olaf in his arms and carried him to the
horse's side, and, holding the end of the chain, mounted. Olaf
struggled a little to free himself, but finding the chain secure about
his neck, resolved to await a better chance of escape. Then Sigurd gave
Reas the two silver marks in payment of his purchase, and urged his
horse to a quick walk, dragging Olaf behind him.

Very soon Reas and his straggling farmstead were hidden from sight
behind a clump of tall pine trees. Then Sigurd halted at the side of a
little stream.

"You have done well," he said to Olaf, "in thus coming away with
seeming unwillingness. But do not suppose that I value you so lightly
as did your late master, who thinks, foolish man, that you are no
better than many another bond slave whom he might buy in the
marketplace. Had Reas exacted an hundred gold marks instead of two
paltry marks of silver, I should willingly have given him them."

"And why?" asked Olaf with a frown. "Is it that you think to take me
west to Norway, and cast me like a young goat among wolves? I had
thought when you so blandly spoke to me yesternight that you were a man
of honour. Haply Queen Gunnhild would reward you well if you should
deliver me into her clutches. But this you shall never do!"

"Rash boy," said Sigurd as he stroked his horse's mane, "do you not
recognize a friend when you meet one? Or is friendship so strange to
you that you take all men to be your enemies?"

"Enmity comes so often in the guise of friendship," said Olaf, "that it
is well to be wary. I had been wiser last night if I had refused to
speak with you."

"The time will soon come," said Sigurd, "when you will not be sorry
that you so spoke. But I will warn you that it may go very ill with you
if you tell your story to all strangers as you told it to me."

Olaf was perplexed. He looked into the man's face and saw only kindness
there, and yet there was something very suspicious in the stranger's
eagerness to possess him.

"If you are indeed my friend," said the boy, "why do you keep this
chain about my neck? Why do you drag me after you like a dog?"

"Because I am not willing that you should escape me," answered Sigurd.
"But if you will shake my hand and tell me that you will not run away,
then I will take off your chain and you shall ride in front of me on my
horse. You are King Triggvi's son, and I know that, once spoken, your
word will be sacred."

Now, Olaf had never taken any man's hand since he swore foster
brotherhood with Thorgils Thoralf son. He looked upon handshaking as a
most solemn covenant, only to be made when great matters were at stake.
Also, he had never yet told or acted a lie, or been false to anyone. He
answered promptly:

"No, I will not take your hand. Neither will I give you my word that I
shall not escape from you very soon. You may keep the chain about my
neck. It is more easily broken than my promise."

Sigurd looked at the lad and smiled.

"I think," he said, "that I would admire you even more if you were a
little cleaner. Here is a stream of water. Get in and wash yourself."

"I cannot take off my clothes without removing the chain," said Olaf,
"and if the chain be removed I shall run away to where even your horse
cannot follow me. But if you will give me one boon I will promise you
that I will wash myself clean and then come back to the chain."

"What is your boon?" asked Sigurd.

"It is," said Olaf, "that since I am now your lawful thrall, and must
go with you wheresoever you wish, you will go to Biorn the merchant and
buy from him my foster brother Thorgils."

Sigurd leapt from his horse and at once unfastened the chain from
Olaf's neck, and even helped him to draw off his kirtle and woollen
sark. And when Olaf stood before him naked, Sigurd drew back amazed at
the pure fairness of his skin, the firmness of his well knitted
muscles, and the perfect beauty of his form.

In the stream near which they had halted there was a deep, clear pool
of water, with a high cascade tumbling into it in creamy foam. Olaf ran
lightly over the mossy boulders and plunged into the pool, as though he
knew it well. Sigurd watched him rolling and splashing there in
childish delight. Sometimes the boy seemed lost in the brown depths of
the water, but soon his white body would be seen gliding smoothly along
under the surface, and then emerging amid the spray of the waterfall,
where the shafts of sunlight made a rainbow arc. And at last Olaf came
out and ran swiftly backward and forward on the grassy level until he
was dry. Then returning to his new master he took up his woollen sark.
But his kirtle was gone.

Sigurd said: "I have thrown it away, for it is not well that a king's
son should wear a garment that is sullied by the marks of slavery."

He took off from his own shoulders a riding cloak of scarlet cloth and
added, "Take this cloak and wear it. And when we reach the town I will
buy you more fitting clothes, with sandals for your feet, and a cap to
shield your head from the sun."

Olaf blushed, and took the cloak and put it over him, saying nothing.
Then he caught up an end of the chain and signed to his master to
fasten it about his neck. Signed fastened it and then remounted his
horse.

They had gone a little distance seaward down the dale when they were
met by three armed horsemen, who seemed to have been waiting for them.
Sigurd gave Olaf into their keeping, bidding them guard him well, and
himself rode on in advance. Soon from the top of a hill they came in
sight of the blue sea, and then the little town with its wooden huts
nestling at the foot of the cliffs.

When they entered the town, two of Sigurd's servants took Olaf with
them to the house of a certain merchant, where they gave him some
roasted eggs and wheaten bread, and there they kept him until after
noontide, never speaking to him, but only watching him while they
played countless games of chess and drank many horns of ale.

Now Olaf, as he sat on the floor, chained to the door post, set to
wondering where his new master intended taking him to, and he could
think of no likely destination but Norway. Why else should this man
have bought him but to deliver him to Gunnhild? So thereupon he began
to question how he could escape. And he determined in his mind very
quickly, that when they were on the sea he would free himself from his
chain and jump overboard and swim to land. But then came the thought
that if he did this he would be quite alone in the world, and no one
would ever believe him if he told them that he was the son of Triggvi
Olafson, and perhaps he would again be taken into slavery. If Thorgils
were with him they might do very well together, because Thorgils was
full of the world's wisdom, and could by his wit earn food and shelter
until they were both old enough and skilled enough to join some viking
ship and win renown and power. But if Thorgils was to be left behind in
Esthonia then it would not be so easy. Nothing could be done without
Thorgils. So then Olaf thought it would be much wiser in him to try to
escape at once, before he should be taken on board ship.

The chain was tight about his neck and it was fastened behind, so that
he could not loosen it without arousing the men's suspicions by the
noise it would make. He looked at the other end of it, and saw it was
so fastened that he might easily undo it. Little by little he crept
nearer to the post as the men went on with their game. Before he could
do more, however, there was the sound of horse's feet outside. The two
men sprang up from their seats. One of them went to the door and
presently returned with a bundle of clothes, which he threw down on the
floor, bidding Olaf dress himself. Olaf saw at once that the garments
were of very fine woven cloth, and he wondered much. Even his old
master's son Rekoni had never worn such rich attire as this, and it was
passing strange that he, a bond slave, should be told to clothe himself
in such finery.

He was dressing himself--albeit with great trouble, for the things were
strange to him who had hitherto worn naught but a poor slave's
kirtle--when a shrill horn was sounded from without. Then one of the
men came and helped him to lace his sandals and to don his cloak, and
hurried him out into the courtyard. Here were three horses waiting. The
men pointed to one of them, a shaggy brown pony, and told Olaf to mount.

"I cannot ride," said the boy.

"You will be able to ride long before you reach our journey's end,"
returned the man. "And, lest you should be afraid of falling off, you
will be tied with strong ropes to the horse's back."

"I had rather walk," objected Olaf.

"Slaves must obey their masters," said the man; and he took hold of the
boy to help him to mount. But Olaf drew quickly aside with a flash of
rebellion in his eyes.

Now at that moment a company of horsemen came in sight, led by Sigurd
Erikson, and followed by many mules that were laden with bags of food
and merchandise. All the men were well armed with swords and spears,
bows and arrows. The sight of so many horses at once showed Olaf that
the journey, whatever its destination, was to be made by land. As they
came nearer and halted, his eyes quickly searched among the men for
Thorgils Thoralfson. Yes, there indeed was his foster brother, mounted
on one of the pack mules, with the sunlight falling on his white kirtle
and downbent head! Then Olaf grew calm, for his master had kept his
promise, and it mattered little where he was to be taken now that
Thorgils was to be with him in his bondage. Sometime--not today,
perhaps,--they would have a chance of speaking together and of
contriving an escape.

Sigurd, seated on his beautiful white horse, looked like a king
surrounded by his bodyguard. He watched Olaf springing on the pony's
back, and saw the men securing the boy with ropes. One of the men took
the end of the chain, while the other held the pony's halter; and thus,
with a mounted guard on each side of him, the young slave was led out
through the gates.

Very soon the little town in which he had lived in bondage for seven
long years, and the sea that he loved so well, were left far behind.
Sigurd and his followers rode southward over the hills, and then
through long dreary dales, that were strewn with large boulder stones
that made travelling very difficult. There was only a narrow horse
track to guide them, and soon even this was lost in the rank herbage,
and the land became a wild desolate waste without sign of human
dwelling, but only the bare rugged hills, with here and there a thread
of water streaming down them into the lower land. Olaf began to feel
very weary, and the jolting of the pony over the rough ground became
painful to his untrained limbs. But at last the hot sun sank in a blaze
of gold, and the first day's journey came to an end.

A halt was made within the shelter of a vast forest of pine trees, at
the side of a wide, deep stream. Here the horses and mules were
unburdened and allowed to wander, with dogs to watch them lest they
strayed too far. Some of the men then set to raising tents, others
gathered cones and dry twigs to build a fire, while two mounted guard
over their master's moneybags. When all was ready, food and drink were
served round to all alike.

At nightfall, Olaf and Thorgils, still chained, were put to sleep on a
bed of dry ferns. Near them was another slave, a young man who seemed
to be of a foreign land. They watched him silently until he was asleep,
then as they lay there with the stars shining down upon them through
the dark tree branches, they questioned one the other concerning what
had happened to them that day. Olaf asked Thorgils if he had heard the
name of their new master.

"No," answered Thorgils. "Nor can I guess why it is that he has bought
us. All that I know is that he is a Norseman, and that he is very rich."

"I can only think," said Olaf, "that he intends some treachery by us,
and that he means to take us west over sea and deliver us into the
hands of Gunnhild's sons."

"There is little cause to fear such a thing," said Thorgils. "To him we
are but as any other slaves that he might buy in the marketplace, and I
think he has only chosen us because we are of his own country. Had he
discovered that you were your father's son he might indeed design to
take us to Norway. But that is not possible. There are none but our two
selves in all Esthonia who know that you are Olaf Triggvison, and this
man could not by any means have discovered it."

Olaf was silent for many moments, then at last he said:

"Thorgils, I cannot deceive you. This man knows full well whose son I
am, and it was I who told him."

Thorgils drew in his breath, as if he had received a blow.

"You told him?" he cried. "Oh, rash that you are! Have I not always
bidden you keep this secret close in your heart? What need was there to
tell your story to the first inquiring stranger who crossed your path?
You are over ready with your tongue, and now, alas! our misfortunes
must only be greater than before."

"He spoke kindly to me," explained Olaf, "and I could not refuse to
answer him when he asked me how I came to be a bond slave. I little
thought that he was an enemy."

"You are unskilled in the knowledge of men, Ole," returned Thorgils.
"There is a look in his eyes that might soon have told you that there
is evil in his heart, and such smooth tongued men as he are not to be
trusted. But there is one good thing that your thoughtlessness has
done: it has brought us again under one master, so it will go ill if,
working together, we cannot contrive to run away, and join some viking
ship."

"That will not be easy if our new master should take us to an inland
place," said Olaf. "None of his men have the marks of the sea upon
them; they are landmen."

Thorgils glanced up into the sky and searched for the polar star.

"We are journeying southward," he said presently.

"And what country lies to the south?" asked Olaf.

Thorgils could not tell. But he remembered that on a time some
merchants had come to the coast from a great city in the south called
Mikligard--which was the Norseman's name for Constantinople,--and he
guessed that that might be their journey's end.

Then Olaf crept nearer to their sleeping companion and wakened him.

"Tell me," he asked, "who is this man, our master, and whither is he
taking us?"

"I cannot tell," answered the youth. "It is but three days since that
he bought me, and I can ill understand the tongue these men speak, for
I am not of this land. My home is far across the seas."

"In what realm?" asked Thorgils.

"In England."

"That must be far away indeed," said Olaf, "for never have I heard of
such a land."

"It is an island, out across the Western Sea," explained Thorgils;
"often have I heard it named. In that same land it was that King Erik
Bloodaxe lived and died. Many vikings out of Norway have crossed the
seas for the sake of the wealth they can win from the Angles. And if I
were a viking it is to England I would steer my course."

"Gladly would I go with you," said the English youth; "ay, even now, if
we could but escape. But it seems that we are journeying away from the
seacoast, and there is little hope that we can win our way on board a
ship."

"There is hope enough if we do not delay our escape," returned
Thorgils, looking out to where the campfires burned. He was silent for
many minutes, then, laying his hand on the stranger's arm, he asked:

"What name have you?"

"Egbert," the lad replied.

"And how came it," inquired Thorgils, "that you were brought into
Esthonia?"

Egbert then told his story. He was born, he said, in Northumberland.
His father, a wealthy armourer and silversmith, had been slain by one
of the Northmen who had made a great settlement in that part of the
country, and his mother, whose name was Edith, had then wedded the man
who had made her a widow. The man was named Grim, and he was a warrior
in the service of Erik Bloodaxe, the ruler in those parts. On the death
of King Erik, Grim and many of the Norsemen went back to Norway in the
train of Queen Gunnhild and Erik's sons, and with him he took his wife
and young Egbert. Edith did not live to reach Norway, and Grim,
unwilling to be burdened with her son, had sold Egbert into slavery.
For ten years the boy had suffered in bondage under different masters,
the last of whom--Klerkon Flatface--had brought him into Esthonia.

"My one wish during all these years," said Egbert, "has been to return
to England, where the people are Christian, and do not worship your
heathen gods. Many times I have tried to escape, but always without
success; for I have had no companions, and it is not easy for one so
young as I am to make his way alone through foreign lands."

"What is your age?" Olaf inquired.

"Fifteen summers," answered Egbert.

Thorgils stood up and leaned his hand against the trunk of a tree,
looking down at his two companions.

"I think," said he, "that it would be a very good thing if we three
should run away from this new master of ours--now, while the darkness
lasts,--and, keeping in company, try to get back to the coast. There we
might take possession of a small sailboat, and so make our way over sea
to the land of the Angles. What say you, Ole?"

Olaf was silent for a while. At last he said:

"It were much wiser in us to wait until we are old enough to fight our
way in the world."

"And you will not try to escape?" asked Thorgils.

"No," answered Olaf firmly. "We have a good master. Why should we leave
him?"

"It is because he has given you that fine cloak that you think him
good," returned Thorgils tauntingly; "but, believe me, he has his
private reasons for so bribing you. I can well guess what he means to
do with you, and I tell you that you will surely rue it if you do not
escape while we may; for, if men bear their true nature in their faces,
then this man who has bought us has an evil heart."

"And what would it avail if we were to escape?" asked Olaf. "Boys as we
are, we should be of little use in the world, I think."

"You are afraid!" cried Thorgils.

"Yes," echoed Egbert, "you are afraid." Then turning to Thorgils, he
added: "But why should we urge the lad against his will? He is but a
child, and would only be a burden to us. Let us leave him and go our
ways without him."

"You are not of our folk, Egbert," returned Thorgils, flinging himself
down upon the dry leaves, "and you do not know what the vow of foster
brotherhood means. You ask me to do that which I would sooner die than
do. Ole and I will never part until death parts us. And if either
should be slain, then the other will avenge his death. If Ole wills to
remain in slavery until he is old and gray, then I will always be his
companion in bondage. But to escape without him, that will I never do!"

Nothing more was said. The three boys, weary after their long journey,
curled themselves up to sleep.

So soundly did young Olaf sleep, that at midnight, when a man's hands
unbound the chain about his neck he was not awakened. Very cautiously
the man took him up in his strong arms, and carried him away among the
dark shadows of the trees to a part of the forest far removed from the
campfires. And at last he laid the lad down on a bed of dry reeds and
moss at the side of the stream, where the bright moon, shining through
an open glade, shed its light upon his fair round face and his short
gold hair. There the man stood over him, watching him as he dreamed his
childish dreams. Then he knelt down and gently drew aside the lad's
cloak and opened the front of his kirtle, so that the moonlight fell
upon the white skin of his throat and breast.

Suddenly Olaf awoke and saw the dark figure bending over him.

"Thorgils, Thorgils!" he cried in alarm.

"Be silent!" commanded Sigurd Erikson, gripping the boy's arm. "No harm
will come to you."

Olaf struggled to his feet and was about to take to flight, but his
master's firm grip held him.

"Silly child!" muttered Sigurd. "Why do you fear me? Have I not already
told you that I am your friend?"

"I do not trust your friendship," answered Olaf angrily, remembering
Thorgil's warning. "And now I believe that you have brought me here
only that you may secretly put me to death."

"I have brought you here for your own good, my child," said Sigurd
softly; "and I give you my solemn word that no man, whosoever he be,
shall do you any injury while I live to be your protector. Be silent,
and listen to me."

Olaf grew calmer.

"Yester eve," said Sigurd, "when you told me that you were the son of
King Triggvi Olafson, I could not easily believe your tale. But when
you spoke your mother's name and told me that she was from Ofrestead,
in the Uplands of Norway, then I knew very well that you were telling
me the truth. I looked into your eyes and I saw that they were the eyes
of Queen Astrid--the fairest woman in all the Northland. In your very
words I thought I could hear the music of Queen Astrid's voice--"

"Can it be that my mother is known to you?" cried Olaf eagerly. "Can it
be that you can take me to where she lives?"

"Well do I know her," answered Sigurd. "But, alas! it is many summers
since I saw her last, nor had I heard any tidings of her for a long,
long while, until you told me that she had taken flight from Norway.
Tell me now, what is the name of him whose succour she wished to seek
in Gardarike?"

"Her brother's name," said Olaf, "is Sigurd Erikson."

"I am that same brother," smiled Sigurd, taking the boy by the hand;
"and it is because I am your uncle that I now take you with me into
Holmgard." He drew Olaf nearer to him and put his arm about his neck.
"And you shall live with me as my own dear foster son," he added, "and
I will take care of you and teach you all that a king's son should
know, so that in the time to come you may be well fitted to claim your
dead father's realm. But it is not without great risk that I do this
thing, for I well know that there are many men in Norway who would
gladly hear of your death. Now, if Gunnhild's sons should learn that
you are living in Holmgard they would offer a rich reward to the man
who should compass your end. You will be wise, therefore, if you
breathe no word of your kinship with Triggvi Olafson. Also, you must
betray to no man, not even to your foster brother Thorgils, that I am
your uncle, or that I know your name and kin; for it is a law held
sacred in Gardarike that no one of royal birth shall abide in the land
without the sanction of King Valdemar. If it be known that I am
wilfully breaking that law, then both you and I will fall into the
sorest trouble."

Amazed at hearing all this, and at learning that the man he had taken
for a secret enemy was none other than his own uncle, Olaf was
speechless. He silently put his hand into Sigurd's great palm, and let
himself be led back to the place where Thorgils and Egbert still lay
sound asleep.



CHAPTER III: GERDA' S PROPHECY.


On the morrow, when Olaf awoke, he told nothing of this that he had
heard concerning his kinship with Sigurd Erikson, and if Thorgils saw
that he was very moody and quiet, he no doubt thought that the lad was
but sorrowing at being taken away from the sea that he loved so much.
And yet Olaf seemed strangely unwilling to favour any plan of escape.
Both Thorgils and Egbert were for ever speaking of flight, but Olaf
always had some wise reason to offer for yet further delay, and would
only shake his head and say that their plans were ill formed. On the
second evening of the journey into the south, a halt was made upon the
shores of a great inland lake. Thorgils declared that it was a part of
the sea, and he urged his two companions to steal away with him under
the cover of night so that they might find some fisher's boat and make
off with it. But Olaf quickly pointed out that there were no boats to
be seen, and that, as the horses and dogs were drinking of the water,
it could not be salt like the waters of the great sea. Every day during
the long and weary journey Thorgils brought up some new plan. But Olaf
was obstinate. So at last the two elder boys, seeing that he was bent
upon remaining in bondage, yielded to his stronger will, and agreed to
wait in patience and to go with him wheresoever their master had a mind
to take them.

The country into which they were taken was in old times called
Gardarike. It lay to the southeast of Esthonia, and it was a part of
what is now known as the Russian Empire. Many Norsemen lived in that
land, and King Valdemar was himself the son of the great Swedish
viking, Rurik, who had made conquests and settlements in the countries
east of the Baltic Sea. Valdemar held his court at Holmgard--the modern
Novgorod. He was a very wise and powerful ruler, and his subjects were
prosperous and peaceable, having many useful arts, and carrying on a
commerce with the great city of Mikligard. The people were still
heathen, worshipping Odin and Thor and the minor gods of the
Scandinavians; for the faith of Christendom was as yet but vaguely
known to them and little understood.

Sigurd Erikson, who was Valdemar's high steward, lived in the king's
palace in great dignity and had many servants. So when he returned with
all the treasure that he had gathered as tribute he took Olaf
Triggvison into his service. But Thorgils and Egbert were still held as
bond slaves and put to hard labour in the king's stables.

The steward was very good to Olaf, and soon grew to love him as his own
son, guarding him from all harm, speaking with him whenever chance
brought them together, yet never betraying by word or act that the boy
was other than a mere thrall, whom he had bought with other chattels
during his journey through the king's dominions. Neither did Olaf
whisper, even to his foster brother, any word of his close kinship with
their new master. Thorgils, who had not forgotten the name of Queen
Astrid's brother, might indeed have discovered Olaf's secret. But it so
chanced that the king's steward was spoken of only by his title as the
Hersir Sigurd, and not as the son of Erik of Ofrestead.

For many months Olaf fulfilled his little duties very meekly, and no
one paid great heed to him, for he still bore the traces of his rough
work. Sigurd was well satisfied that his secret was safe, and that
Valdemar would never discover that his steward was breaking the law.
But soon the lad's fair hair grew long and bright, his hands lost their
roughness, and his growing beauty of face and limb attracted many eyes.
Then Sigurd began to fear, for he knew the penalty he would be forced
to pay if it should be discovered that he had wittingly brought a king
born youth into the land.

This danger grew greater when it chanced that the Queen Allogia took
notice of young Olaf, for the queen was in some sort a spae woman; she
was skilled in foretelling the future, and she quickly perceived that
the boy's beauty had come to him from some noble ancestor. It seemed
that she was bent upon knowing his history, for she besought many
persons about the court to tell her whence he had come, and to discover
for her the names of his parents. But none could tell.

Now, Allogia was still but two and twenty years of age, and very fair,
and the king did not like that she should be seen holding speech with
his handsome steward, for fear that Sigurd should win her heart. But
one day in the early winter time the queen came upon Sigurd in the
great hall, where he was alone with Olaf, teaching the boy to read the
runes carved in the black oak behind the king's high seat.

Olaf stood back as she entered, but his eyes rested fearlessly upon
her. She wore a blue woven mantle ornamented with lace, and under it a
scarlet kirtle with a silver belt. There was a band of gold round her
head, and her fine brown hair reached down to her waist on both sides.
She approached the steward, and said as he turned to withdraw from the
hall:

"I pray you, go on with your lesson, hersir."

"Your pardon, lady," said Sigurd, "I was but teaching the lad the rune
of King Rurik, and it is of no account that I should continue."

"Not often have I heard of a mere slave boy learning runes," returned
Allogia; "such knowledge is only meant for those who are of high
estate." She paused and looked round at Olaf, who stood apart with his
hand caressing the head of a great dog that had risen from before the
fire. "And yet," added the queen thoughtfully, "I would say that this
boy Ole, as you call him, has no serf's blood in him. His fairness is
that of a kingly race. What is his parentage, Hersir Sigurd? You who
have shown him so much favour, who have dressed him in such fine
clothes, and who even go so far as to teach him the reading of runes,
surely know him to be of noble birth. Who is he, I say?"

This question, coming so directly and from the queen herself, whom he
dared not disobey, brought the guilty blood to Sigurd's brow. But
Allogia did not observe his confusion. Her large dark eyes were gazing
full upon Olaf, as though in admiration of the boy's silky gold hair
and firm, well knit figure.

"I bought the lad in North Esthonia," Sigurd answered after a moment's
pause. "I bought him from a bonder in Rathsdale, and the price I paid
for him was two silver marks. It may be that he is some viking's son, I
cannot tell. He is quick witted and very clever at all games, and that
is why it pleases me to teach him many things."

There was a look of doubt in Allogia's eyes, as though she knew that
the steward was telling her but a half truth. He saw her doubt and made
a sign to Olaf to draw nearer. The boy obeyed, and stood before the
queen with bowed head.

"Of what parentage are you, boy?" demanded Sigurd. "Who is your mother,
and what is her condition of life?"

Olaf answered promptly, as he looked calmly into his master's face:

"My mother is a poor bondswoman, hersir," he said. "The vikings brought
her into Esthonia from west over sea. I have not had tidings of her
since I was a little child."

The queen smiled at him pityingly.

"And what of your father?" she asked.

Olaf shook his head, and looked vacantly at the queen's beautiful hands
with their many gold rings.

"I never knew my father, lady," he replied, "for he was dead before I
came into the world."

"But do you not know his name?" pursued Allogia. Now Olaf feared to
tell a deliberate lie, and yet, for his uncle's sake, he dared not
answer with the truth. He stammered for an instant, and then, feeling
the dog's head against his hand, he caught the animal's ear between his
fingers and gave it a hard, firm pinch. The dog howled with the sudden
pain and sprang forward angrily. And the queen, startled and alarmed,
moved aside and presently walked majestically from the hall.

Not again for many weeks did Allogia seek an answer to her question.
Sigurd, still fearing that his secret might be revealed, kept the boy
away from the court so that he might not be seen. But for all his care
the danger was for ever recurring.

King Valdemar had a mother named Gerda, who was so old and infirm that
she always lay abed. She was wonderfully skilled in spaedom, and it was
always the custom at yuletide, when the guests assembled in the king's
hall, that his mother was borne in thither and placed in the high seat.
There she prophesied touching any danger overhanging the country, or
similar thing, according to the questions put to her.

Now it happened in the first winter of Olaf's being in Holmgard, that
at the yule feast, when Gerda had been borne in after this fashion,
Valdemar asked her whether any foreign prince or warrior would enter
his dominions or turn his arms against his kingdom during the following
year.

The old mother ran her bent fingers through the thin locks of her white
hair, and gazing with dim eyes into the vast hall, thus spoke her
prophecy:

"No token of any disastrous war do I discern," she said, "nor any other
misfortune. But one wondrous event I see. In the land of Norway there
has lately been born a child who will be bred up here, in Holmgard,
until he grows to be a famous prince; one so highly gifted that there
has never before been seen his equal. He will do no harm to this
kingdom; but he will in every way increase thy fame. He will return to
his native land while yet he is in the flower of his age, and he will
reign with great glory in this northern part of the world. But not for
long, not for long. Now, carry me away."

While these words were being spoken, Queen Allogia's eyes rested upon
Olaf Triggvison, who was acting as cup bearer to his uncle Sigurd. She
saw the drinking horn tremble in his hand, so that the wine it held
dripped over the silver rim, and fell upon the front of his white
kirtle; and she divined that it was to him that the prophecy referred.
But no sign of this suspicion did she betray, either at that time or in
the after days. Yet none the less she watched him always, with her mind
fixed upon the thought of his nobility, and the glory that had been
promised him. In all that he did she was well pleased, for already she
had found that he excelled all others of his age, not only in personal
beauty but in skilful handling of all warlike weapons, in the training
of dogs and horses, in wrestling and riding, in racing on snowshoes,
and in all other exercises. Often she would have spoken with him, but,
saving at the time of a great feast, he was never to be seen in the
hall.

Throughout the long, cold winter months, Olaf saw nothing of his foster
brother or of Egbert the Briton, for they had both been taken across
the river to labour on one of the king's farmsteads. There they
remained until the early summer, when they brought over their flocks
and herds for the sheep meeting. At that time there was held a great
fair in Holmgard, with sports and games and manly contests. Many
parties of men came into the town from distant parts of the kingdom.

On the second morning of the fair, Sigurd Erikson entered the room in
which Olaf slept. The boy was dressing himself in his fine clothes, and
girding on his leather belt with its small war axe, which Sigurd had
had made for his young kinsman.

"My boy," said Sigurd, "there is little need for you to dress yourself
in this holiday attire, for it is my will that you do not attend the
games. You must not show yourself amid the crowd."

Now, Olaf had engaged to take part in a great wrestling bout with three
young champions from Livonia. Also, he was to have run in a footrace,
for which the prize was a silver hilted sword, awarded by the queen. So
at hearing his uncle thus forbid him to appear, he became very
indignant.

"It is too late for you to try to keep me within doors," he protested.
"I have given my word to the wrestlers, and I cannot now withdraw. Do
you wish me to be jeered at as a coward? Why do you deny me the honour
of taking all the prizes that I may so easily win?"

"It is for your own happiness that I forbid you to show yourself before
strangers," returned Sigurd. "But, more than all, I wish you to keep in
hiding for this great reason. There has come into Holmgard a man whom I
met many months ago. I engaged with him to pit my best horse against
his in the horse ring, and the prize was to be--"

"What was the prize?" asked Olaf, seeing that his uncle had paused.

"The prize was to be yourself, my son," said Sigurd gravely. "The man
coveted you, and would have bought you from your old master Reas."

"And why did you agree to this, knowing that I am your own kinsman and
your sister's son?" asked Olaf.

"I did not then know that you were of my kin," answered Sigurd. "But
having given my word, I cannot go back from it. I have seen this man's
horse, and I judge it to be a finer animal than mine. Therefore do I
fear that I must lose you. But if you will keep within the house, I
will tell the man that you are dead, and will offer him the young
Englander Egbert in your stead."

"Would you then tell the man a falsehood?" cried Olaf.

"Gladly, if by doing so I still keep you with me, for I would not lose
you for all the world."

Olaf, obedient to his uncle's word, began to unbuckle his belt. But his
face was very gloomy, and it was easy to see that it was only out of
his love for his uncle that he would by any means agree to forego his
pleasures. Olaf was already very proud of his own skill. Never yet had
he been beaten in any contest, and he had hoped to add to his glory by
overcoming all who might come against him on this great day. Moreover,
it was a sorry sacrifice for him to make if he was not to be allowed to
witness the games.

As Sigurd turned to leave him, the boy suddenly caught his arm.

"I will not promise!" he cried. "I cannot give you my word. I have set
my heart upon the wrestling, and in spite of your forbiddance I shall
go. Tell me what manner of man this is that you speak of, and I will
avoid him. Even though he overcome you in the horse fight he shall not
take me from you."

"He is a great viking," answered Sigurd. "Men name him Klerkon
Flatface. It is the same who sold you into bondage."

A cloud came upon Olaf's brow, and he sat down upon the side of the
trestle bed.

"Klerkon Flatface?" he repeated slowly. Then raising his eyes he looked
into his uncle's face and added: "Do not fear, hersir. Klerkon shall
not take me from you."

Now, very soon after Sigurd had gone out to attend upon the king, Olaf
quitted the house and went by secret ways to the stables, where he
found his foster brother at work combing out the mane of Sigurd's
fighting steed. A very tall and powerful animal it was, with a glossy
brown coat and a long tail that reached nearly to the ground. It was
well trained, and many a well won fight had it fought. Sleipner was its
name, and it was so called after the eight footed horse of Odin.

Olaf went to Thorgils' side and greeted him with friendly words. Then,
when they had spoken for a while together, Olaf bent his head close to
Thorgils' ear, and said he:

"I have news, brother."

"Ill news or good?" asked Thorgils.

"Judge for yourself," answered Olaf. "It is that our old enemy Klerkon
the Viking has come into Holmgard, with many men and a mighty horse
that is to be pitted against Sleipner."

Thorgils drew back with a sudden start.

"Then has our good time come," he cried. "Our vow of vengeance must be
fulfilled. No longer are we little boys, weak of arm and failing in
courage. Never again shall Klerkon sail the seas."

"And who will hinder him?" asked Olaf, looking the while into the
other's brightened eyes.

"He shall be hindered by me," returned Thorgils. "With me alone must
the vengeance rest, for it is not well that you, who stand so high in
honour with the king and his court, should sully your white hands with
blood. It was my father whom Klerkon slew that day upon the ship, and
it is my part to avenge him."

Then Olaf shook his head.

"Not so shall it be," said he. "Thoralf was my own good foster father,
and I am not afraid to face the man who sent him so cruelly to his
death. I and not you shall bring the murderer to his bane."

"Rash that you always are!" cried Thorgils. "Will you never learn to be
cautious? Keep your peace. If I should fail, then will it be your turn
to avenge my death as our vow of foster brotherhood demands. Now bring
me a good weapon, for I have none but an oak cudgel."

"You shall not want for a good weapon," said Olaf, and he drew a small
sword from under his blue cloak and handed it to Thorgils. "Here is my
new handsax. Take it, and use it to good purpose. But in the matter of
Klerkon, it may be that I shall be before you. Odin be with you!"



CHAPTER IV: THE SLAYING OF KLERKON.


It was yet early in the forenoon when the games began. They were held
on the great plain beyond the gate, where fences were raised as a
girdle round the course. Upon the sunny side was the king's tent, where
Valdemar and Allogia sat, attended by many guests and courtiers, among
whom was Sigurd Erikson.

For a long while Sigurd, who sat near to the queen, was at his ease in
the belief that young Olaf was keeping within doors, and he paid little
heed to those who were within the ring. First there were jumping
matches. Olaf did not join in these, for he was not yet tall enough to
compete with full grown men, and there were no youths of his own height
who were skilled enough to match him. Neither, for a like reason, did
he take part in the sword feats. But at last it came to a trial of
skill with the longbow. The bowmen were at the far end of the course,
and their faces could not well be seen from the tent, even had Sigurd
searched among them for the face of his wilful nephew. There was one,
however, who saw better than he, and this was Queen Allogia.

She waited until it came to the turn of those who were younger than
eighteen years, and then she watched with keen eyes. Among them she
soon discerned the youth whom she sought; nor did she lose sight of him
until his well aimed arrow shot full into the mark, and he was
proclaimed the victor. Then, when Olaf came before the tent to make his
obeisance, Sigurd saw him, and was very wroth, for he knew that Klerkon
the Viking was among the king's guests.

Now, when Olaf was thus near, it seemed to Klerkon that the lad was not
wholly a stranger to him. Indeed, had it not been for the long gold
hair and the disguise of better clothing, he might have known him to be
the same whom he had seen in the last summer playing at the knife feat
on the gangplank of the viking ship. But Klerkon only admired the lad's
skill with the longbow, and thought what a goodly warrior he would
make. So having this in his mind, he watched Olaf closely when again
the boy ran past in the footrace, leading his competitors by many yards.

And now, being first in the race, Olaf came once more before the tent,
and the queen gave him his well won prize.

As he took the silver hilted sword from Allogia's hand, one of the
vikings went to Klerkon's side, and said he:

"Master, this youth is the same who appeared in the last summer as a
bond slave at the time when the Hersir Sigurd came on board of us. Was
it not this same lad who was to be the prize in our horse fight?"

Then Klerkon fixed his eyes more keenly on the lad, and thought of him
as he might be with his fair hair cropped short, and with a slave's
white kirtle in place of the fine clothes he now wore.

"It is the same!" he answered. "And now I mind that someone told me it
was he whom we captured among others many summers ago off Alland isle.
It was we who brought him into Esthonia. Much would I give to have him
with us on our longship. And by the hammer of Thor, I swear that if I
win him not over the horse fight, then I will take him by force!"

So then Klerkon made his way to the side of Sigurd Erikson, and told
him that he had recognized the boy. At which Sigurd grew very pale, and
blamed himself in that he had not kept Olaf within doors by main force.

Now, at high noon when the king and queen departed from the tent,
Sigurd made his way round to the entrance of the lists, and there
searched for Olaf and found him. He spoke to the lad very gravely, and,
telling him of the viking's recognition, cautioned him against
appearing again within the circle of the course. Olaf, seeing now that
it was a serious matter, agreed to abandon the wrestling, and gave his
word that he would thereafter be more cautious of showing himself.

"Much do I fear," said Sigurd, "that the mischief is already done. Your
future welfare, your happiness, your claiming of your father's
kingdom--all depends upon the result of this horse fight. If Klerkon
the Viking's horse should overcome Sleipner there is no help for us.
You must go with the victor."

Then Olaf smiled almost mockingly.

"Be not afraid, my kinsman," said he. "Should Klerkon come to claim me
as his prize he shall not find me. But he will never need to claim me.
I have seen this great stallion that he has so much boasted of, and I
know full well that it is no match for Sleipner in a fair fight."

"We shall see very soon," returned Sigurd; "meanwhile, if you intend to
witness the combat, I beg you to take your stand as far as possible
away from the vikings. And when the fight is over--whatever be the
result--make your way over the river and keep well hidden in old Grim
Ormson's hut. There you will be safe from all discovery until after the
vikings have departed."

Now Olaf had no notion of hiding himself thus. He was not personally
afraid of Klerkon, neither did he believe that the viking would go to
much trouble to secure his prize even if his horse should be
successful. Olaf had heard that that horse had been brought from
England, and he did not believe that anything good could come from a
country so far away. His uncle's horse, on the other hand, was
celebrated all through Gardarike, and it had never been beaten either
in the race or in the fight. Why, then, should there be any fear for
the result of the coming contest?

But Sigurd Erikson was wiser, and knew better that his steed was at
last to meet its equal. Never before had he seen an animal so strong
and fierce as the stallion that Klerkon the Viking had matched against
Sleipner.

Many horses were led forth into the circle, and they were taken in
pairs to the middle, where they fought one against the other. Each
horse was followed by its owner or the trainer, who supported and urged
it on, inciting it with his stick. The crowd of onlookers was very
large, for among the Northmen no amusement was more popular than the
horse fight, unless it were the combat between men. But at first there
was not much excitement, because many of the horses would not fight,
and others were too easily beaten. At last Sleipner and the English
horse were led forth into the centre. When they were let loose they
came together fiercely, and there followed a splendid fight, both
severe and long. Little need was there for the men to urge them or to
use the sticks. The two horses rose high on their hind legs, biting at
each other savagely until their manes and necks and shoulders were torn
and bloody. Often the animals were parted, but only to renew the fight
with greater fierceness. The combat went on until eleven rounds had
passed. Then Klerkon's stallion took hold of the jawbone of Sleipner,
and held on until it seemed that he would never yield his hold. Two of
the men then rushed forward, each to his own horse, and beat and pushed
them asunder, when Sleipner fell down from exhaustion and hard
fighting. At which the vikings set up a loud cheer.

King Valdemar was the umpire, and he said now that the fight must
cease, for that Klerkon's horse had proved himself the victor in eight
rounds, and that it could easily be seen that the steward's horse was
no longer fit. Then the king asked Sigurd what prize he had staked, and
Sigurd answered:

"The prize was staked many months ago when I met Klerkon over in
Esthonia, and it was arranged that if the viking's horse should
overcome mine he was to take the young thrall Ole."

"Let the boy be given up to him, then," said the king; "for he has won
him very fairly."

"I will take the boy tonight," said Klerkon, who stood near, "for my
business in Holmgard is now over, and at sunrise I go back to the
coast."

Now Sigurd believed that Olaf had surely taken his advice, and gone at
once across the river to hide himself in Grim Ormson's hut, so he was
not in any way anxious.

"Take the lad wheresoever you can find him," said he to the viking.
"And if you cannot find him before the sunrise, then I will pay you his
just value in gold."

"Though you offered me all the gold you are worth," returned Klerkon,
"I would not take it in place of the boy. No thrall born lad is he, but
of noble descent, and I intend to make a viking of him and take him
with me west over sea to England. It is not well that a youth so clever
as he should waste his years in an inland town. He was meant by his
nature for the sea, and I think that he will some day prove to be a
very great warrior."

At this Sigurd Erikson grew sick at heart, for he knew that the viking
was a man of very strong will, and that no half measures would serve to
turn him from his purpose. Also, he felt that it was now useless to
attempt any deception concerning Olaf. The vikings had recognized the
boy, and none other could be passed off in his stead.

With a gloomy cloud on his brow, Sigurd left the tent and made his way
back to the king's hall in search of his nephew. Olaf was not there.
The hours went by, and still there was no sign of him. Neither did
Klerkon come to make claim to his prize.

It was in the evening time. Sigurd sat alone in his room at the back of
the great hall. He was thinking that Olaf had become strangely restless
and unruly of late. Many times the lad had disappointed him and caused
him trouble, but never so much as today, when his wilfulness threatened
to bring about very serious consequences. Had Olaf taken the advice
that had been given him in the morning, the coming of Klerkon might
have been a matter of small moment; but the thoughtless boy had boldly
shown himself before the tent, and had never striven to hide himself
from the quick eyes of the shipmen. He had been recognized--as how
would one so distinguished from all other youths fail to be?--and now
Klerkon would not rest until he had safely secured his coveted prize.

Very different now was Olaf from what he had seemed on that day when he
stood near the viking ship in the guise of a poor slave. In the year
that had passed Sigurd had grown to love the lad with the love of a
father, had taught him many useful arts and handicrafts, had given him
fine clothes to wear, and had so improved his bodily condition and
moulded his mind that no king's son could ever hope to excel him either
in physical beauty or in skill of arms, in manly prowess or moral
goodness. Never once had Olaf done anything that was mean or unworthy;
never once had he told an untruth or gone back from his promise. At any
time when Sigurd had told him to do what was not to his liking the boy
had simply shaken his golden curls and said, "I will not promise"; but
always when he had given his word he held to it firmly and faithfully.
He could be trusted in all things. But for all this he had lately
become most wilful, and the trouble he was now causing made his uncle
very anxious.

Sigurd knew full well that Olaf loved him, and that all the possible
glory of being a viking would not lead him away from Holmgard of his
own free will. But in the present case he might not be able to help
himself, despite his having so positively said that Klerkon should
never carry him off alive. So in his heart Sigurd feared that Olaf
would take some mischievous and unwise measure of his own to evade the
vikings. It might be, indeed, that he had already gone across the river
to the security of Grim Ormson's hut; but it was greatly to be feared
that he had fallen into the hands of Klerkon Flatface.

Suddenly, as Sigurd sat there in moody thought, the door of the room
was flung open, and Olaf rushed in. He was strangely agitated. His hair
was rough and his clothing was torn; his large blue eyes flashed in
anger, and his breathing was heavy and uneven.

Sigurd sprang up from his seat. He saw that something ill had happened.

"Why are you here?" he cried. "Why are you not in hiding? Have I not
warned you enough that you are running into danger by letting yourself
be seen? Klerkon has won you from me, and he may be here at any moment
to claim you and carry you away!"

Olaf did not reply for a long time. He only bent down and took a
handful of rushes up from the floor, and began to quietly clean the
blade of his axe that he held under his arm.

"Speak!" cried Sigurd, driven to anger by the boy's silence.

Then at last Olaf said in a steady, boyish voice:

"Klerkon will never claim me from you, my kinsman; for he is dead."

"Dead?" echoed Sigurd in alarm.

"Yes," answered Olaf, "I met him in the gate. He tried to take me. I
raised my axe and buried it in his head. Well have you taught me the
use of my axe, Hersir Sigurd."

As he spoke there came a loud hum of angry voices from without. They
were the voices of the vikings calling aloud for the blood of him who
had slain their chief.

Without a word Sigurd Erikson crossed the room, and drew the heavy bar
athwart the door. Then he turned upon Olaf.

"Well do I discern," said he, "that you are of King Harald's race. It
was ever so with your forefathers; thoughtless, fearless, ruthless! And
so all my teaching of you has gone for nothing! Oh, foolish boy! To
think that you, who might have lived to be the king of all Norway, have
ended in being no more than a common murderer!"

"Murderer?" repeated Olaf. "Not so. It is but justice that I have done.
Klerkon was the slayer of my dear foster father. He slew him cruelly
and in cold blood, and for no other reason than that poor Thoralf was
old and infirm. I have done no murder. I have but taken just and lawful
vengeance."

"Just and lawful it may be in our own birthland, Olaf," returned Sigurd
gravely; "but in this kingdom wherein we now live the peace is held
holy, and it is ordained by law that he who kills another man in anger
shall himself lose his life. I cannot save you. You have broken the
peace; you have taken the life of one of the king's own guests, and you
have insulted the king's hospitality. I fear that you must die."

He broke off, listening to the furious cries of the crowd outside.
"Hark!" he went on. "Those wild sea wolves are calling for blood
vengeance. Come! come with me quickly. There is but one hope left, and
in that hope lies my own despair and my own undoing."

So, while yet the people were clamouring for the young peace breaker's
life, Sigurd took Olaf through the back part of the house and by many
secret passages into the queen's garth. Here, in a large hall that was
most splendidly adorned with carved wood and hung with tapestry, sat
Queen Allogia with two of her handmaids working with their needles upon
a beautiful robe of embroidered silk.

Sigurd passed the armed sentinel at the door and strode into the
apartment, followed closely by the boy. The queen looked up in surprise
at the unexpected visitors.

"I crave your help, O queen," cried the steward excitedly.

The queen stood up in alarm. She had heard the turmoil of voices from
without.

"What means all this shouting?" she inquired.

Then Sigurd told her how Olaf had killed the viking, and implored her
to help the boy out of his trouble.

"Alas!" said she, when she had heard the tale. "Little power have I to
meddle in such affairs. The penalty of murder is death, and I cannot
hinder the law." She looked at Olaf as she spoke, and saw the pleading
in his eyes. "And yet," she added with quick pity, "such a handsome boy
must not be slain. I will save him if I can."

She then bade Sigurd call in her bodyguard fully armed to protect the
lad, while she went out into the king's chamber and pleaded with
Valdemar to prevent the shedding of blood.

Now, by this time, the enraged vikings and many men of the town had
gained entrance to the outer court, and they rushed forward to claim
the life of the offender according to their custom and laws. Long they
waited, hammering noisily at the oaken doors of the hall wherein Olaf
was now known to have taken refuge. But at last the door was flung
open, and King Valdemar appeared on the threshold, guarded by many
armed men. The crowd drew back, leaving only the chief of the vikings
to speak for them and ask for justice. He told the king how Klerkon,
standing within the gate, had been attacked by young Ole of the golden
hair, and how without word or warning the boy had suddenly raised his
axe and driven it into Klerkon's head, so that the blade stood right
down into the brain of him.

The king then declared that he could not believe a boy so young as Ole
could have either the skill or the boldness to attack so powerful a man
as Klerkon Flatface. But the viking turned and called upon some of his
shipmates to bring forward the dead body of their chief, which they
laid down before the king. Valdemar looked upon it and examined the
death wound. The skull was cloven with one clean blow from the crown
right down to the red bearded chin.

"A wondrous strong blow!" murmured Valdemar. "But I see that it was
struck from the front. How came it that Klerkon could not defend
himself?"

"Little time had he for that," answered the viking, "for the lad fell
upon him with the quickness of an eagle's swoop, and although my master
was well armed, yet he could not raise his sword ere he fell dead at
our feet, and then Ole turned and fled with such speed that none could
follow him."

"Such an act as this," said the king, "cannot have been without some
cause. What reason of enmity was there between this boy and Klerkon?"

"No reason but wanton mischief," answered the warrior. "It was a
causeless murder, and we claim the full and lawful punishment."

"Justice shall be done," returned the king. "But I must first know what
the peace breaker may have to say in his own defence. I beg you,
therefore, to keep truce until the sunrise, when the penalty shall be
adjudged."

At hearing this promise the crowd dispersed in peace. Many grumbled
that the customary sentence of death had not been instantly pronounced.
But in causing this delay King Valdemar was but yielding to the
pleadings of the queen, who had implored him to spare the life of the
handsome young murderer, or at the least to save him from the fury of
the vikings.

When the crowd had gone from the courtyard Allogia returned to the hall
in which the steward and Olaf had been kept under the protection of the
guards. Dismissing the men, she turned to Sigurd Erikson.

"You have asked me to save the boy's life, hersir," said she, "but,
alas! I cannot do it. All that the king will do is to give a few hours'
respite. At sunrise the law is to take its course, and much do I fear
that its course will be death."

Olaf heard her words, but did not show any fear of the expected
punishment. It seemed, indeed, that he had become suddenly hard of
heart and dauntless, as though he thought that the killing of a man was
a matter to be proud of. Certainly, in his own mind, he did not look
upon the taking of Klerkon's life as an act of guilt deserving
punishment. He recalled what he had seen on the viking ship years
before. The old man Thoralf had fallen to Klerkon's share in the
dividing of booty. Thoralf had held little Olaf by the hand as they
stood apart on the ship's deck, and Klerkon had come up to them and
roughly separated them, flinging Olaf across to where young Thorgils
stood. Then, tearing off Thoralf's cloak, the viking had said: "Little
use is there in an old toothless hound, but his flesh may serve as food
for the fishes;" and, drawing his sword, he had given the aged man his
death blow and tilted him over into the sea. So Olaf and Thorgils had
sworn to take vengeance upon this viking, and Olaf had now fulfilled
his vow.

The queen came nearer to Olaf, and looked at him tenderly. "It is a
great pity," said she, "that one so fair should be doomed to die before
he has grown to manhood. It might be that with good training he would
become a very famous warrior, and I would gladly see him enlisted in
the service of the king."

She broke off and turned to Sigurd. "Hersir Sigurd," she said, looking
keenly into the steward's face, "I have noticed many times that you
take a more than common interest in this boy. Even now, when he has
broken the law of the land, it is you who take it upon yourself to
plead his cause. It must surely be that you have powerful reasons for
keeping him from harm. Whose son is he? Of what kin is he? It is but
right that I should know."

Sigurd demurred, remembering that it was forbidden by the law of the
land that any king born person should live in Gardarike, except with
the king's permission. He thought that it would go very ill with
himself if Olaf's kingly birth should be known.

"Lady, I cannot tell you," he murmured.

"Would you then rather that the boy should die?" she asked with anger
in her tone.

"Not so," answered Sigurd, drawing himself up to his full height. "If
the boy is to be condemned to death, then I will offer to take the
punishment in his stead."

The queen glanced at him quietly.

"If that be so," said she, "then the sacrifice of your own life can
only be taken as showing that you count the boy of more value to the
world than yourself." She paused for a moment, then added: "I am your
queen, Hersir Sigurd, and I command you to tell me what I ask. What is
the boy's true name, and what is his parentage?"

She went across to the side of the great fireplace, and, seating
herself in one of the large oaken chairs, signed to Sigurd and Olaf to
approach her. Then, taking up an end of the silken robe upon which she
had before been working, she threaded her needle.

"I am ready," she said.

So Sigurd, seeing that there was no way out of his difficulty and
hoping that the telling of his secret might after all be of benefit to
Olaf, obeyed the queen's behest, relating the story of the kings of
Norway and showing how this boy, Olaf, the slayer of Klerkon, was
descended in a direct line from the great King Harald Fairhair.



CHAPTER V: THE STORY OP THE NORSE KINGS.


"On a time very long ago," began Sigurd, as he sat beside Olaf on a
bench facing Queen Allogia, "there reigned in the south of Norway a
young king named Halfdan the Swarthy. His realm was not large, for the
country was at that time divided into many districts, each having its
independent king. But, by warfare and by fortunate marriage, Halfdan
soon increased the possessions which his father had left to him, so
that he became the mightiest king in all the land. The name of his wife
was Queen Ragnhild, who was very beautiful, and they had a son whom
they named Harald.

"This Harald grew to be a very handsome boy, tall and strong and of
great intelligence. He was fond of manly sports, and his skill and
beauty brought him the favour and admiration of all men of the
northland. Well, when Harald was still a youth of ten winters, his
father was one day crossing the ice on the Randsfjord when the ice
broke under him and he was drowned, so his kingdom fell to his son. The
kings whom Halfdan the Swarthy had conquered then bethought them that
they might win back what lands they had lost, and they accordingly made
war against the young king. Many battles were fought, but Harald was
always victorious. Instead of yielding to his enemies he soon extended
his dominions until they stretched as far north as Orkadale. And then
he was content."

Sigurd here raised his eyes and looked across at Allogia as she
silently plied her busy needle.

"It is a long story, lady," he said; "and it may be that it is not new
to you."

"Tell it to the end," returned the queen.

"There lived at that time in Valders a maid named Gyda," continued
Sigurd. "She was the daughter of King Erik of Hordaland, and King
Harald, hearing that she was exceedingly fair and high minded would
fain have her to be his wife. So he sent forth messengers to her,
asking her to wed with him. Now the maid was proud as well as
beautiful, and when she received this message she answered thus: 'Tell
your master,' she said, 'that I will not sacrifice myself to be the
wife of a king who has no more realm to rule over than a few counties.
Marvellous it seems to me that there is no king who can make all Norway
his own and be the sole lord thereof, as King Erik in Sweden, and King
Gorm in Denmark. Give this message to King Harald, and tell him that I
will only promise to be his wedded wife on this condition, that he will
for my sake lay under him all Norway. For only then can he be accounted
the king of a people."

"Now these words of Gyda were taken duly to the king, and they awakened
in his mind a thought which had never before occurred to him, and he
said, in the presence of many men: 'This oath do I now solemnly make,
and swear before that God who made me and rules over all things, that
never more will I cut my hair nor comb it until the day when I have
conquered all Norway, and have made myself the sole ruler of the
Northmen. And if I do not fulfil my vow, I shall die in the attempt.'"

"Spoken like a true king!" interrupted Allogia. "I trust, for the proud
maiden's sake, that he did not take long to fulfil his vow."

"Ten long years it took him," returned Sigurd.  "Northward he sallied
with a vast army and conquered Orkadale, Trondelag, and Naumdale, and
all the country about Thrandheim, making himself the overlord of all
the old kings who thereafter became his earls and vassals. Those who
would not be subdued he killed or maimed. He made new laws, took from
the peasants their odal estates, and declared all land to be the king's
property. Many of the conquered people rebelled against his rule and
his strict feudal laws, and some of his provinces had to be conquered
twice over. But with every year he came nearer to his goal, and those
who opposed him only brought about their own ruin.

"At last the old kings, smarting in their subjection, banded themselves
together, resolving to assert their ancient rights in a pitched battle.
They assembled a great fleet of warships and met the conqueror in the
Hafrsfjord. In the sea fight that followed many of Harald's bravest men
were slain; spears and stones fell about them on every side; the air
was filled with the flying arrows as with winter hail. But the king's
berserks at length took on their fury and won for their master the
greatest battle that has ever been fought in Norway. Thus, after a ten
years' struggle, did Harald fulfil his vow.

"At a feast which followed this fight his hair was cut and combed. Men
had formerly named him Harald Shockhead; but now they marvelled at his
new made beauty and called him Harald Fairhair. Then, having done what
he set out to do, he married Gyda and lived with her until she died.

"From that day forth," continued Sigurd, "Harald Fairhair ruled with
great rigour, and so severely did he tax his people that many of the
nobler and prouder sort grew discontented and straightway abandoned
Norway to seek new homes across the sea. Many were content to roam upon
the waters as vikings; others sailed west to the Faroe Isles, some
settled in Shetland and the Orkneys, while others went far north into
Iceland--a country so rich that, as I have heard, every blade of grass
drips with butter. But Harald followed these adventurous men who had
thus sought to escape his rule, with the result that he reduced all
these islands to his sway."

At this point of the steward's narrative the queen moved impatiently
and said:

"All this may be very well, Hersir Sigurd. But I fail to see how this
history can bear upon the story of the boy Ole."

"You shall see its bearing very soon," returned Sigurd. "But, if you so
wish, I will cut it short."

"Nay, tell it in your own way," said the queen, "for my time is of no
account."

"You must know, then," pursued Sigurd, "that King Harald Fairhair had
many wives, other than Gyda. And as he had many wives, so had he many
sons. These sons as they grew up to manhood became to him a serious
trouble. They were jealous of each other and for ever quarrelling among
themselves. A chief cause of their disagreement was their bitter
jealousy of Erik, the son whom Harald favoured above all the rest.

"When Erik was but a mere boy--no older than young Ole, here--his
father gave him the command of five great ships of war, and with a
picked crew of hardy warriors the boy went a-viking along the coasts,
harrying and plundering, fighting and slaughtering wherever he fell in
with ships less powerful than his own. He became a terror to all
peaceful folk, and for his murderous deeds by sea and land he won the
name of Erik Bloodaxe.

"It was through his foolish love of this wild hearted son that Harald
Fairhair was led to commit an act whereby he undid all the great work
of his life. He had succeeded in uniting all Norway into one nation,
and this was good. But now nothing would suit him but that he should
once more divide his great realm into many provinces. He therefore
created all his sons kings, and gave to each his portion of the
country, on condition that after his own death they should all
acknowledge Erik Bloodaxe their overlord.

"But no sooner had this unwise course been taken than the sons began to
quarrel more wildly than ever. There was but one son among them who was
wise enough to enjoy his share in contentment and keep peace. This was
Olaf, the son of Queen Swanhild. To him King Harald had given the
country of Viken, in the south of Norway. Olaf was the father of
Triggvi, and the grandfather of the boy who is now before you."'

Allogia's eyes were now fixed upon young Olaf, who sat at his ease in
front of her with his arm resting on the back of the bench and his
fingers playing idly with his long gold curls.

"Truly did I guess," said she, "that the boy had kingly blood in him.
Such silken hair, such clear soft skin, and beautiful blue eyes could
not possibly have come of lowly birth. And now do I well believe that
it was he whom the king's mother meant when, at the yuletide feast, she
spoke of the child who was destined to be brought up here in Holmgard,
and who was to grow to be a famous prince." She smiled softly on the
boy as she said this.  "And now, hersir," she added, "we will hear the
rest of your saga."

Sigurd rose from the bench and began to pace slowly to and fro with his
hands clasped behind his back.

"Of all King Harald's sons," said he, "Erik Bloodaxe was the one who
had the most ambition and who fought hardest to win worship from his
brothers. In his strivings he did not scruple to act unfairly. He
stooped to treachery, and even to murder. He first killed his brother,
Ragnvald Rattlebone, because he was said to be a sorcerer. Next he
killed his brother Biorn, because he refused to pay him homage and
tribute. None of Harald's sons could be safe while Erik was thus
allowed to take the law into his own hands; so two other of the
brothers attempted to take Erik's life, by setting fire to a farmhouse
in which he was feasting. But Erik escaped with four men, secured his
father's protection, and for a time there was peace.

"Now King Harald Fairhair had a young son named Hakon, the child of his
old age, and this son became in the after years a very great man in the
land, and was called Hakon the Good.

"The King of England in those days was named Athelstane the Victorious,
and it is told that on a time Athelstane, who was passing jealous of
the power of Harald Fairhair, sent a messenger to Norway bearing a
precious sword as a gift to King Harald. The sword was done with gold
about the hilt and set with dear bought gems, and well tempered in the
blade. So the messenger fared to Lade, in Thrandheim, where Harald
dwelt, and said he: 'Here is a sword which the King of England sendeth
thee, bidding thee take it withal.' So the king took the grip of it.
Then said the messenger: 'Thou hast taken the sword even as our king
wished, and thou art therefore his sword taker and vassal.'

"Well, Harald was angry at being thus tricked, and he pondered how he
might pay back King Athelstane, so the next year he got ship and sent
his young son Hakon to England, along with a great berserker, or
champion, named Hawk, and thirty warriors. They found the king in
London town, and, being fully armed, they entered his feasting hall
where he sat. Hawk took the child Hakon and placed him on King
Athelstane's knee, saying: 'The King of Norway biddeth thee foster this
his child.'

"Athelstane was exceeding wroth, and he caught up his sword that lay
beside him and drew it as if he would slay the lad. Then said Hawk:
'Thou hast set the child on thy knee and mayest murder him if thou
wilt, but not thus withal wilt thou make an end of all the sons of King
Harald Fairhair.'

"Thus did the King of Norway pay back the King of England in his own
coin, for men ever account the fosterer less noble than him whose child
he fosters. Howbeit, King Athelstane kept the lad and fostered him
right well. Thereafter he treated young Hakon with great kindness,
taught him good manners and all kinds of prowess, and in the end grew
to love him more than any of his own kin. In England, Hakon abandoned
his faith in the gods of Scandinavia, and became a worshipper of the
White Christ, for in that land all men are Christians, and Thor and
Odin have no power.

"Now, while Hakon was away in England, his elder brother, Erik
Bloodaxe, went a-warring in his viking ships to many lands--Scotland,
Wales, Ireland, and Normandy, and north away in Finland. And in Finland
he found a certain woman, the like of whom he had never seen for
fairness in all his roamings. She was named Gunnhild, and had learned
all kinds of sorcery and witchcraft among the Finns. Erik wedded with
this woman, and it afterwards befell that she wrought more evil in
Norway than even Erik himself. She was his evil genius, egging him on
to deeds of treachery and violence which made him detested of all men.

"Glad was Gunnhild when Harald the Fairhaired, being stricken in years,
declared that he felt no longer able to bear the burden of the
government. This he did when he was eighty years old. He led his son
Erik to his royal high seat and put him there as the king, so that
Gunnhild by this became the queen, and could work her evil as she
willed.

"Three years afterwards Harald Fairhair died in his bed, having ruled
over Norway for seventy-three years."

Sigurd paused in his narrative and sat down beside Olaf. He felt that
the queen's interest in his nephew was now secure and that it boded
well for Olaf. Allogia set aside her needle and nodded to the steward
as if she would tell him to continue his saga. Sigurd leaned back in
his seat, crossed his legs, and went on.

"King Erik now held dominion over the larger part of Norway," said he.
"But there were two of his brothers who would not yield to him, and who
yet peacefully ruled in the realms over which their father had placed
them. Olaf--the son of King Harald and Queen Swanhild--was the
sovereign king in Viken, and his brother Halfdan in like manner ruled
in Thrandheim. Full ill content was Erik that he could not truthfully
call himself the lord over all Norway. But, as he could not be king by
favour alone, he resolved to become so by other means. Two winters
after Erik's enthronement his brother Halfdan died a sudden and painful
death at a feast in Thrandheim. It is told that he was cunningly
poisoned by Queen Gunnhild. Erik straightway claimed his dead brother's
kingdom; but the Thrandheimers would have none of him; they declared
against him, and took another brother, Sigrod, for their king. To
protect themselves against their overbearing brother, Sigrod and Olaf
joined their forces. But Erik attacked them unawares with a great army
at Tunsberg and won the day. Both Olaf and Sigrod, champions in the
battle, were killed. Olaf's son, Triggvi, escaped, however, and fled
away to the Uplands, where he remained as long as Erik Bloodaxe was
master in the land. Triggvi was the biggest and strongest of men, and
the fairest of face of all that have ever been seen.

"Erik Bloodaxe had now killed four of his brothers and caused the death
of a fifth. He had made himself the king of all Norway, even as his
father had been. Yet the people misliked him sorely, they were for ever
striving to displace him and to set up Triggvi Olafson in his stead.
Then Queen Gunnhild swore that, if Erik would not make his rule a
certainty, she at least would not rest until she had exterminated all
the race of Harald Fairhair outside of her husband's line."

Here Olaf spoke, leaning forward and looking round into Sigurd's face.

"I think," said he, "that if I had been in my father's place I would
have rid the earth of so murderous a traitor as Erik Bloodaxe."

"Your father was a peace lover," returned Sigurd, "though, indeed,
there was not in all the land at that time a more splendid warrior than
he. But there were other reasons. The first was that Triggvi was
passing content in the place where he was living, away in the Uplands,
for there he had become the friend of a great earl who had most
fruitful lands at Ofrestead, and he had won the love of the earl's
daughter, Astrid, the most beautiful maid in all Norway. Her he had
wedded, and they were very happy together and free from all the cares
of state and war. This do I know full well," added Sigurd, addressing
Allogia, "for Queen Astrid was my own dear sister, and Earl Erik of
Ofrestead was my own father."

"Then," said Queen Allogia, "it must be that Astrid was the mother of
this boy whose cause you are now pleading; and in that case you
yourself must be our young Ole's uncle?"

"It is even so," replied Sigurd. "And now I must tell the second reason
why Triggvi did not try to compass the death of King Erik. It was that
Queen Gunnhild had already been seeking to fulfil her vow, and had been
attempting through her wicked sorcery to bring about young Triggvi's
death. So Triggvi thereupon left Astrid in the care of her father, and
went a-warring as a viking. He sailed west over sea to Scotland, and
there harried the coasts; and then to the Orkneys, where he had many
battles with the vikings of the isles. So that when the people sought
for him, wishing to make him their king, he could not be found.

"Well, in the meantime there had appeared another who had rightful
claim to the throne. Hakon, Athelstane's foster son, had come back from
England on hearing of King Harald's death. He was now a full grown man
and a valiant warrior. When he landed in Trondelag the people hailed
him with great rejoicing, and declared that old Harald Fairhair had
come back once more, gentler and more generous than before, but no less
mighty and beautiful. They claimed him as their king, calling him Hakon
the Good, and he reigned in Norway for many years, nor did he seek to
do any ill to his nephew, Triggvi Olafson, but confirmed him as king in
Viken.

"Now when Hakon the Good returned it was an ill day for his elder
brother Erik Bloodaxe, for the people had become so wroth against him
that he could find no peace. At first he tried to raise an army, but
none would serve him, and he was forced to flee from the land with his
wife and children and a few weak followers. He thereupon took a ship
and roamed about as a viking. He fared westward to the Orkneys, and got
many vikings to join him, then he sailed south and harried all about
the north parts of England. So greatly did he trouble the English
people that at last King Athelstane, to win his peace, offered Erik the
dominion over Northumberland, on the condition that he would become the
king's vassal and defend that part of the realm against the Danes and
other vikings. Erik agreed, allowed himself to be christened, and took
the right troth.

"Now Northumbria is accounted the fifth part of England, and the better
bargain was on Erik's side. He made his abode in the town of York, and
he warded the country well, for full oft did the Danes and Northmen
harry there in the earlier time. But very soon, urged, it may be, by
Queen Gunnhild, he sought to increase his wealth and to add to his
lands; and when Athelstane died and King Edmund became the monarch of
England Erik Bloodaxe went far into the land, and forcibly drove the
people from their homes. Too greatly did he reckon upon success, for it
happened that there was another who, like himself, had been set there
by the king for the warding of the country. This other gathered an army
and fell upon Erik. There was a great battle, and many of the English
folk were killed; but ere the day was ended Erik lay dead upon the
field, and that was the last of him.

"No longer could Queen Gunnhild hope to dwell at peace in England. Her
husband's estates were forfeited, and she had no home. So she took her
children and sailed east to Denmark. There she was well received by the
Danish king, Harald Bluetooth. But in spite of her misfortune her
ambitions were not dead, for she had many sons growing up, and she had
a mind to make them all kings in Norway. These sons, as you may well
suppose, had little goodwill for Hakon the Good, who had dispossessed
them of their inheritance. The eldest of them had roved for a while as
vikings, and were already skilled in warfare, so Gunnhild contrived to
get them ships and followers, and sent them across to Viken, the part
of Norway where, as I have said, King Triggvi Olafson reigned. They had
many battles with Triggvi, but they could not conquer him. But at last
King Hakon came to his nephew's help, and with him pursued the sons of
Gunnhild into Denmark.

"This attack upon Danish soil brought about a war between the kings of
Denmark and Norway, and in a battle at Sotoness Triggvi Olafson was
defeated. He was forced to abandon his ships and save himself by
flight. In a later battle Hakon the Good was killed. It is said that
Gunnhild had bewitched the arrow that slew him.

"Hakon had never tried very hard to make his people Christians, and he
had himself drifted back to the worship of Thor and Odin. One of his
friends, when he was dying, offered to take his body over to England,
so that he might be buried in Christian soil, but Hakon replied: 'I am
not worthy of it. I have lived like a heathen, and therefore it is meet
that I should be buried like a heathen.'"

Queen Allogia drew a heavy breath at this point in Sigurd's narrative,
as if she thought that the story would have no end.

"Your voice gets tired, hersir," said she, "and it may be that you
would wish to keep the rest of the saga for another time!"

"There is but little more to tell," returned Sigurd, looking up with
anxious eyes. "And as what is left is the more important part, I beg
you to hear it to the end."

The queen assented, and Sigurd took up the thread of his story:

"Little time did the sons of Gunnhild lose," said he, "in claiming the
kingdom of their fathers; but it was only the middle part of Norway
that they could possess in safety. To gain the whole country they had
need to break the power of Triggvi Olafson and Gudrod Biornson, both
grandsons of Harald Fairhair, who ruled as independent kings. To do
this in open warfare was not easy. Gunnhild, who now forced her sons to
action, as she had formerly forced Erik Bloodaxe, found treachery an
easier means; so she got one of her sons to feign hostility to his
brothers and to make a show of friendship for Triggvi Olafson. King
Triggvi was invited by this son to go out on a cruise with him. Triggvi
yielded to his false friend's wish, and on reaching the place of
meeting he was foully murdered with all his men. His cousin, King
Gudrod Biornson, was at about this same time surprised at a feast by
Harald Greyfell and slain after a desperate fight.

"Thus did the sons of Gunnhild clear their path. Thus, too, did the
wicked queen fulfil the vow that she had sworn many years before, to
exterminate the whole race of Harald Fairhair outside her husband's
line.

"But," added Sigurd, in a deep and solemn voice, "the flower that is
trampled under foot may yet leave its seed behind to come forth in its
own season and flourish. The race of King Harald was not yet dead, and
Queen Gunnhild presently found that there was a woman in Norway whose
true love and faithfulness were better than all the guile and treachery
that jealousy could devise. Triggvi Olafson's widow, Queen Astrid, when
she heard tidings of his murder, guessed rightly that Gunnhild would
pursue her, so she fled from Viken, and journeyed north towards the
Uplands, taking with her her two young daughters, Ingibiorg and Astrid,
together with such chattels as she might have with her. In her company
was her foster father, Thoralf Lusaskegg by name, and his young son
Thorgils. Thoralf never left her, but guarded her always most
faithfully, while other trusty men of hers went about spying for
tidings of her foes.

"Now very soon Astrid heard that Gunnhild's sons were pursuing her with
intent to kill her, so she let herself be hidden on a little island in
the midst of a certain lake. There on that island her son was born, and
she had him sprinkled with water and named Olaf, after his father's
father."

Sigurd paused, and laying his hand on Olaf's shoulder, "This," said he,
"is that same child, Olaf Triggvison, and he is the one true flower of
which King Harald Fairhair was the parent stem. An ill thing would it
be for Norway if, for the slaying of Klerkon the Viking, he were now to
lose his life. And I beg you, oh, queen! to deal kindly with this
king's son so hardly dealt with, and to deal with King Valdemar
concerning him that his life may be spared."

Then Queen Allogia answered, looking on the lad, that she would do as
Sigurd wished.

"And now," she added, "tell me how it came to pass that the boy was
ever brought across the sea to Esthonia."

So Sigurd told how Queen Astrid journeyed farther into the Uplands
until she came to her father's manor at Ofrestead; how, dwelling there,
she had been at last discovered by Gunnhild's spies, and been forced to
take flight that she might save young Olaf from their murderous hands.
For Gunnhild had now heard of the birth of this son of King Triggvi,
and nothing would content her, but that he should die ere he could grow
up to manhood, and so dispute with her own sons the realm that they now
usurped.

He told how Queen Astrid, leaving her two daughters at Ofrestead, had
fared east away into Sweden, and of what privations she had borne for
her son's sake, and of how, still pursued by her enemies, she had at
length taken safe refuge with Hakon Gamle, a friend of her father's.

"But even here," continued Sigurd, "Queen Gunnhild's enmity followed
her. This time it was not with the sword but with soft words that
Gunnhild sought to gain her ends. She sent a message through the King
of Sweden, asking that she might have Olaf back in Norway to live in
her court, and to be taught and nurtured as behoved one of such exalted
birth. But Astrid knew full well that there was falseness underlying
this message, and she sent word back to Norway saying that her boy
stood in no need of such help, and that she would herself see that he
was both well nurtured and fitly taught.

"I have told you," said Sigurd, "that Queen Astrid was my own sister.
Now, at the time I speak of I was already in the service of King
Valdemar; so Astrid thought that the best means of escaping her enemies
and of saving her son was that she should come here with Olaf into
Holmgard. The boy was then three winters old and full sturdy. So Hakon
Gamle gave her a good company of men, and took her down to the seacoast
and gave her into the care of certain traders whose ship was bound
eastward.

"But now as they made out to sea vikings fell on them, and took both
men and money. Some they slew, and some they shared between them for
bondslaves. Then was Olaf parted from his mother, and the captain of
the vikings, an Esthonian named Klerkon Flatface, got him along with
Thoralf and Thorgils. Klerkon deemed Thoralf over old for a thrall,
and, seeing no work in him, slew him and flung him overboard, but he
had the lads away with him, and sold them into slavery. Olaf and
Thorgils swore foster brotherhood, and they took oath in handshaking
that they would bring this viking to his bane. That oath did Olaf
fulfil this day, when he drove his axe into Klerkon's head."

Sigurd rose from his seat and stood before the queen.

"And now," said he, "my story is at an end, and you know of what kin
this boy has come. Well am I aware, oh, queen! that in fostering a
king's son I have broken the law of this land. I seek no pardon for
myself. For Olaf alone do I ask your help. And if King Valdemar condemn
him to death for his crime, then do I crave that my life, and not the
boy's, be taken."

"Go with the boy to your home," returned the queen. "None shall hurt
either him or you. Wait in patience until the sun rise, and then you
shall know the issue of my pleadings with the king."

And so saying, she signed to them to leave the hall.



CHAPTER VI: THE TRAINING OF OLAF.


Very much of this story that Sigurd had told was strangely new to Olaf,
and even the parts that he had before been familiar with came to him
with fresh meaning. He had known all along of his descent from King
Harald Fairhair, but not until now did he fully and clearly understand
that by the death of his father and of all his father's brothers he was
himself at this moment the sole heir to the throne of Norway. Now for
the first time he realized that during all that past time, when he had
been living as a poor and wretched bondslave in Esthonia, he had held
this glorious birthright.

As he lay on his bed that night, thinking over all that he had heard,
he tried to comprehend all that it must mean to him in the future, and
in his own boyish way he made great resolves of how, when the fitting
moment should come, he would sail across the sea, and, landing on the
shores of Norway, tell his people the story of his royal birth and
heritage, so that they might know him and acknowledge him their king,
even as they had acknowledged Hakon the Good. But in the midst of his
dreaming there came to him the remembrance of the crime that he had
just committed, and he began to dread that King Valdemar might hold him
guilty, and order him to be slain.

All through the long night this dread haunted him. He had killed Jarl
Klerkon, and the sense of his own guilt now preyed upon him like a
terrible nightmare. He wondered by what means they would take his life.
Would they smite off his head with a sharp sword or shoot an arrow into
his heart, or would they slowly torture him to death? Perhaps they
would deem him too young to be thus punished by the taking of his life;
but if they spared his life he would none the less be punished, for
they would throw him into the dark prison that he had once seen under
the king's castle, and there they would leave him to languish in chains
for many years, so that his strength would go from him, and he would be
no longer fit to be called a king.

Not for a moment did Olaf think of allowing his Uncle Sigurd to take
the punishment for his crime. He knew that Sigurd had made no idle
offer when he had said that he would give up his life for his sake; but
Sigurd was guiltless, and it would be a coward's act to allow him to
make this sacrifice. With all his newborn hopes burning within him, it
was a hard thing for Olaf to think of death. Nevertheless, before the
night was half spent he had resolved to take whatever punishment should
be meted out to him, and if need be to face even death with a brave
heart.

Early on the next morning he was awakened from his sleep by the touch
of rough hands upon him. His own hands were seized, and heavy chains
were bound upon his wrists and ankles. Then he was taken away and
thrust into a dark cell that was cold, and damp, and airless. No food
was given to him, and very soon the pangs of hunger made him wild and
restless. A sudden dread came upon him that they meant to starve him to
death. But not long had he been imprisoned before the heavy door was
again thrown open, and he was summoned forth. Two men of the king's
bodyguard led him into the great hall, where he was met by a loud
clamour of voices. He looked about him fearlessly at the crowd of
townsfolk and vikings, who were there, as he now well knew, to bear
witness against him and to hear him condemned. As he stood facing them
the vikings broke into fierce cries for speedy vengeance, and he felt
the hot blood rush to his cheeks and brow. His clear blue eyes flashed
in bold challenge as one of the seamen called out aloud:

"Death to him! Death to the slayer of our chief!" Then one of the
king's lawmen demanded silence, and Olaf was made to turn with his face
to the high seat. There sat King Valdemar in his robes of justice, and
with his naked sword lying before him on the oaken table. At his right
side sat Queen Allogia, with her eyes fixed gravely upon the young
criminal.

Presently, when there was complete silence, Olaf's accuser stepped
forward, and making the sign of Thor's hammer, spoke aloud. He was
named Rand the Strong, and the vikings had chosen him as their captain
in the place of the dead Jarl Klerkon. He told very truthfully how the
young prisoner had made his attack upon Klerkon, and showed that it was
in no mean and underhand way that he had committed this crime, but with
such boldness that none had guessed what was happening until they saw
Klerkon fall to the ground with the lad's axe buried deep in his skull.

Then came others, both townsfolk and seafolk, declaring that Rand had
spoken truly. And so when all who accused the boy had spoken, Sigurd,
the king's steward, was bidden to rise and say what he knew in Olaf's
favour.

"The boy is my own servant," said he, "and I bought him as a thrall
from a certain yeoman in Esthonia. I know no ill against him, and it
was not in his nature to commit any violent act without cause. Rash he
certainly was in killing this viking without due warning. But Jarl
Klerkon was a man whose skill and prowess have made him well known on
all the seas where the vikings are wont to do battle, and I think he
might easily have defended himself against this child, who, as you have
heard, attacked him face to face in the full daylight. As to the cause
of this attack it was this: some seven summers back Jarl Klerkon
assailed and captured a certain merchant ship, on board of which were
this boy Ole, his mother, and his foster father. Klerkon slew the boy's
foster father and sold the mother and her child into bondage. The boy
took oath of vengeance, which oath he has now fulfilled. Now,"
continued Sigurd, raising his voice so that all could hear, "it is not
lawful for any Esthonian viking to attack a peaceful trading ship; but
Klerkon assuredly did this, and I therefore hold that it was he who was
the aggressor. For this reason, and also on account of his youth, I
crave that the boy's life be spared."

While Sigurd was speaking, Olaf's eyes rested upon the queen. He saw
her lean over and whisper in the king's ear. The king nodded and
smiled, waited until there was silence, and then said briefly:

"Little question is there that the offender is guilty. He is guilty,
and must suffer the penalty of his crime. But as he is still little
more than a child in years the penalty will not be death, but the
payment of a heavy fine. He will, therefore, pay to the vikings whom he
has injured the sum of two hundred gold marks."

Now Olaf deemed this judgment very hard, for he had not the money
wherewith to pay this fine. But his life had been spared, and that was
a great matter. It might be that Sigurd Erikson, who was as he knew
very wealthy, would help him to meet the weregild.

Meanwhile the vikings had put their heads together in council. They
decided that as the young murderer's death would in no way profit them
they would accept the fine. But there was yet something that seemed to
trouble them, and at last Rand the Strong came forward before the king.

"We are well content with thy judgment, O king," said he, "and we agree
that on receiving this money we shall not molest the lad any longer on
account of this matter. But we are told that he is only a thrall, and
that there is no hope of our getting the gold from him. Therefore we
claim that he shall die the death."

Olaf looked towards his uncle as if expecting that he would at once
offer to pay this gold. But Sigurd's eyes were fixed upon Queen
Allogia, who now slowly rose from her seat and held up her hand to
silence the loud murmur of voices that filled the hall.

"As to this money," said she, addressing the vikings in a clear ringing
voice, "there is no need that you concern yourselves. The gold shall
now be paid to you in full. It is here!" she cried, throwing down a bag
of coins upon the table. "Now, loosen the boy's chains! Loosen his
chains and set him free."

Then Olaf's warders unbound him, and at a sign from the queen he
stepped to the table and took up the bag of gold and carried it to Rand
the Strong, who received it from him with willing hands, bidding the
boy have no further fear.

On that same day the vikings departed out of Holmgard not ill pleased,
for they went away much richer than they had come, and none of them
seemed at all sorry at the loss of their chief. Jarl Klerkon had gone
to Valhalla, they said, and he was surely happier than they.

Now on the day after the paying of the weregild Olaf had audience with
Queen Allogia, and he thanked her well for the great friendship she had
shown him.

"Little do I deserve your thanks, Prince Olaf," said she. "What I have
done is no more than I would wish any other woman to do for my own son
if he were so hardly dealt with in a foreign land. And now," she added,
"since I have at length learned of what great kin you are, it is my
wish that you shall be received here as becomes your royal birth, and
that you shall be educated as behoves a king's son. Too young are you
yet to bear arms as a warrior. For the present, therefore, you shall
attend upon me as my page, and you will be treated with all kindness."

Not as a servant, but rather as an honoured courtier was Olaf
Triggvison received after this time. He was twelve winters old when he
came into Holmgard, and he abode in King Valdemar's service other five
winters. Little can be told of his life during those years. They were
years of preparation for his great work in the after time; and although
he learnt very much and acquired a large part of the skill that was to
make him famous among men, yet his days were without adventure.

There was one matter which had sorely troubled him for many a long day,
and this was the thought of his mother living in bondage. Little did he
remember of those early times when she had done so much for his sake;
he had been too young then to understand what sacrifices Queen Astrid
had made and what privations she had endured. But ever as he grew older
he thought more of her, and it pained him very much to know that even
now, when he was living in comfort, with good food and rich apparel,
she, to whom he owed so much, was perhaps labouring as a bondswoman
under some cruel master.

On a certain summer morning he sat in the queen's presence, playing
upon a little harp that Allogia had given to him. And as his deft
fingers touched the trembling strings he chanted a little song, telling
of how the giant Loki, in punishment for all the ills he had done to
gods and men, was bound by strong cords against the walls of a cave,
with a serpent suspended over him dropping venom into his face drop by
drop; and of how Sigyn his wife took pity on him and stood by him for
hundreds of years, catching the drops as they fell in a cup which she
held.

Suddenly in the midst of his song Olaf stopped. The queen looked round
at him and saw that there were tears in his eyes.

"Why do you weep?" she asked. "Are you not happy, Olaf?"

"Happy enough am I for my own sake," he replied. "It was the thought of
my mother that brought the tears to my eyes. I was thinking that what
Sigyn did for the wicked giant was just such a good act as my mother
would do for anyone whom she loved."

"Marvellous it seems to me," said Allogia, "that we can never learn
what has become of the good Queen Astrid."

"I think," returned Olaf, "that if ever I were to journey into Esthonia
I might get some tidings of her. The last that I heard of her was that
she had been sold to a rich fisherman named Hallstein, who made her
labour at cleaning the fish for him and mending his nets."

"A sorry occupation for a queen to be at!" Allogia said with a sigh.
"But if it be that you have any hope of finding her, then it would be
well if you made that journey you speak of. Sigurd Erikson goes north
to Esthonia in three days' time, on business for the king. Will you not
go with him?"

"Gladly will I go with him," answered Olaf, "if it be that I may."

Well, on the third day Olaf and Sigurd mounted their horses, and with a
good company of men-at-arms set off on their journey over the rocky
plains. Five days were they riding before they came within sight of the
blue sea with its ships and its quiet green islands. That sight brought
a restless yearning into Olaf's spirit. It seemed as if nothing would
now content him but that he should go out upon the wide ocean and spend
all his days in roving. And so much did he speak of the ships and of
the viking life that when at last the time came for the return to
Holmgard, Sigurd Erikson had hard work to win the boy away with him.

While Sigurd was dealing with the people concerning the king's
business, Olaf Triggvison went about from place to place in quest of
tidings of Queen Astrid. But nothing certain could he learn, for he
dared not say that the woman he sought was the widow of King Triggvi,
and when he told of her fairness those whom he questioned only shook
their heads. They had seen many bondswomen who were fair, they said,
and how could they tell that any one of them was she whom the young
hersir was now seeking? At last Olaf found his way to the house of
Hallstein the fisher, only to hear that Hallstein had been drowned in
the sea full five winters before. But Olaf described his mother to the
fisher's widow, who bade him fare to a certain yeoman named Einar
Ulfsson, at a farmstead over the hills. So Olaf took horse and rode
away to this man and questioned him concerning Astrid. Einar remembered
her, for she had been his bondwoman for two summers. He had sold her,
he said, to a stranger, who had taken her on board his ship and carried
her away across the seas. This was the last trace of his mother that
Olaf could discover, and he went back to Sigurd Erikson and told him
what he had learned. Sigurd was very sad at this, for he loved his
sister, and it pained him to think that she was still in slavery, when,
if she could but be found, she might live in comfort and happiness. But
he bade Olaf to be hopeful, "for," said he, "I think it may be that
some friendly man has bought her and taken her home to Norway. And if
that be so, then we shall soon learn the truth. I will send messengers
to Ofrestead, and my father, Earl Erik, will surely find her if she is
to be found."

Now when Olaf returned to Holmgard it was with the resolve that he
would not long remain in this foreign land, but would take his first
chance to go west over sea to the country of his birth. He had seen the
ships passing along the rocky coasts of Esthonia; he had breathed the
fresh free air of the sea, and the viking blood in him had been roused.
His spirit was filled with the ambition to be the commander of a great
warship, and to rove the ocean as his father had done, to visit distant
lands and to make himself glorious in battle. But well he knew that to
fit himself for the viking life he must increase his strength of body
and acquire even greater skill than he now had in the use of all
warlike weapons. So he set himself the task of excelling in the games
and exercises that were then known and practised.

Already he had been taught by his uncle to read runes, to recite sagas,
to play upon the harp, to carve wood, to twist string, to bend a bow,
and to shaft an arrow. These and many other arts had come easy to his
active mind and his deft fingers. All that a man of peace need know he
knew full well. Nor had he neglected to give thought to the religion of
his times. Every day he went into the temple to bow down in devout
worship of the heathen gods, to take part in the rites and ceremonies
of his faith, and even to offer sacrifice to Thor and Odin. The graven
image of Odin was to him, as to most of the Norsemen, a sacred and a
holy thing. When he took oath it was by the sign of Thor's hammer that
he swore; he knew the names and the special powers of all the gods in
Asgard, and Valhalla was the heaven to which, after death, he hoped to
go.

But these arts and this religion would not alone fit him for fulfilling
his ambition. To be such a great viking as he dreamed of becoming he
must learn how to use his sword, how to wield his battleaxe, how to
throw a spear and to shoot an arrow with greater skill than any other
man could boast. He must learn, too, how to defend himself, and how, if
wounded, to bear pain without shrinking. He was a king's son, and to be
worthy of his father it was well that he should excel even the full
grown men who had been well tried in battle and who had never known the
meaning of defeat.

To this end Olaf remained three other years in Holmgard, which time he
spent in making himself strong. In the neighbouring waters of Lake
Ilmen he practised swimming, and with such success that at last he
could remain under the surface for many minutes, diving off a ship's
prow and coming up again under her steering board. So quickly and
strongly could he swim that no man rowing in a boat could keep level
with him. He could ride the wildest horse in the king's stable. At
running and jumping no man could surpass him. In the use of the sword
he was so expert that he could wield the weapon with either hand, and
he could throw two spears at once. Never was he known to shoot an arrow
without hitting the mark. So long as daylight served him he was always
to be found performing some manly feat.

But in these matters it was not his training alone that aided him.
Nature had given him a very beautiful and powerful frame, with well
proportioned limbs, clear quick eyesight, and wonderful strength to
endure all fatigue. Also, through all his life he was never known to be
afraid of any danger or to shrink before any enemy. Other men of his
race have won undying renown, but Olaf Triggvison has ever been
accounted the fairest and tallest and strongest of all the heroes of
Scandinavia, and in prowess surpassing all the warriors told of in the
sagas.



CHAPTER VII: THE CAPTAIN OF THE HOST.


It befell at a time when Olaf had been in the queen's service some four
summers that Sigurd Erikson went out into the far parts of the king's
dominions to levy the yearly taxes upon the people, and among those
that went with him on his journey were Thorgils Thoralfson and the
young Egbert of England. These two had, by Olaf's favour with King
Valdemar, been liberated from their bondage and hard labour, and Sigurd
had taken them into his service as men-at-arms. Brave and handsome they
looked as they sat upon their chargers with their swords hanging at
their sides and the sun shining on their burnished bronze helmets and
coats of ring mail. Olaf watched them with admiring eyes as they rode
away through the town, and wished that he might be of their company.
But their journey was one of peace, and it was only their martial array
that made him for the moment envious.

Sigurd was expected to be absent for little more than two weeks, but
the time went by, the weeks passed into months, and he did not return.

On a certain day Olaf was beyond the gates training a pair of young
hounds. As he watched one of the dogs running in pursuit of a hare that
had been started he espied afar off a horseman riding swiftly across
the plain, almost hidden in a cloud of dust. Nearer and nearer he
approached until Olaf at last saw his face, and knew him to be his
young friend Egbert. Leaving the dogs in the care of two of the king's
servants who were attending him, he set off at a quick run to meet the
horseman.

"What brings you back alone, Egbert?" he cried as he came near.

Egbert drew rein. His garments were torn and dusty; he had lost his
helmet and sword, and his face was so begrimed and travel stained that
he was scarcely to be recognized.

"I have brought ill news," he answered, "and am hastening with it to
King Valdemar. It is full five days since I parted company with my
fellows. They are all made captive--the Hersir Sigurd, Thorgils
Thoralfson, and the rest of them--and I alone have escaped."

Olaf turned, and taking Egbert's stirrup strap in his hand trotted on
at the horse's side.

"Seven days ago," Egbert went on, "we crossed in one of the king's
ships to an island that lies out to the west of Esthonia. Dago is the
name of the island.

"There Sigurd landed, meaning to gather taxes and tribute from the
people. But no sooner was he ashore than the people told him that they
were no longer the subjects of King Valdemar but of a new king whom
they had chosen for themselves. Sigurd disputed their right to elect a
new king for themselves, and he asked to see this man and to know the
name of him who had dared to set himself up in opposition to Valdemar.
Then there was a commotion among the crowd, and one stepped forward and
cried out, 'I am the king, and my name is Rand the Strong!' and we all
knew him to be the same viking who four summers ago was here in
Holmgard in the train of Jan Klerkon. Sigurd grew ill at ease seeing
the vast crowd of islanders that had now gathered there, but he spoke
boldly, and told them all that they were a pack of rebels, and that
King Valdemar would speedily prove to them that he would not brook the
interference of this upstart sea rover. At that Rand drew his sword and
called to his men to stand by their rights and drive these intruders
from their shores. There was a brief fight, in which I know not how
many men were slain or wounded, and in the end the islanders got the
victory. Sigurd fought bravely until he was disarmed and made prisoner.
Thorgils and five others of our men were carried off with him. Our
ship, too, was captured. Darkness came on ere the fight was finished,
and under the cover of night I crept down to the seashore and waded out
into the sea. By the light of the stars I took my bearings and swam out
eastward to the mainland. All through the night I swam on and on. The
sun rose, and still the land was afar off. But at the midday I came to
a firm footing on the beach. At a farmstead I got food and a horse, and
for two days I have been travelling without rest."

"You have done wondrous well," cried Olaf. "And much do I envy you your
adventure."

"There is little cause for envy," returned Egbert. "My limbs are so
weary that I can scarcely sit upright upon my horse's back, and he,
poor dumb brute, is so wind broken that he can be of little more use in
the world. As to adventure, you might now have it in plenty if the king
would but agree to your being of those who must go to the rescue of our
comrades. You are young, and have had no experience in warfare; but you
can, for all that, wield a sword as well as any man in Valdemar's
service."

Olaf was silent, and when they entered the gates he did not seek to
accompany Egbert into the presence of the king. Instead, he made his
way into Queen Allogia's apartments, and there told the news that he
had just heard.

Not long had he been in the hall wherein the queen sat when the door
opened and King Valdemar entered, looking very grave. Olaf rose from
his seat and bowed before him.

"What is your age, my boy?" asked Valdemar.

"Sixteen summers, lord," answered Olaf, wondering at the reason of the
question.

The king eyed him from head to foot.

"It is still very young," said he with a smile. "But your strength is
greater than your years. Not often have I seen one so young with limbs
so sturdy and with figure so nobly upright. I have been thinking that
you have lingered long enough about the skirts of our womenfolk. Such
skill as yours should be put to more manly uses than fingering the harp
and carrying the wine cup, and I have now a mind to see what you can do
in active warfare. There is trouble among the people over in the Isle
of Dago. I have had news that a rebellion has broken out, and that the
islanders have chosen a new king to themselves and refused to
acknowledge their rightful sovereign. These rebels must be instantly
quelled, and I have therefore resolved to despatch a company of men
against them and force them to submit. What say you to your taking the
command of the expedition?"

"The command?" repeated Olaf, drawing back in astonishment. "But I am
no more than a boy. My heart is willing and bold; but surely I am too
young to undertake so grave a trust!"

"Yes," cried the queen, growing white even to the lips at thought of
her favourite being thus thrust into a post of danger. "Yes," she
cried, "he is assuredly too young for such a charge!"

But King Valdemar shook his head.

"Not so," said he with confidence. "Young though he may be in years, I
am well assured that there is no man now living in this kingdom who is
better fitted for the leading of an armed host, and I will trust him to
the full." Then turning to Olaf he added: "The matter is already
settled. It so chances that there are at this present time six of our
best warships, with their full number of seamen and warriors, now lying
in the haven behind Odinsholm. You will depart hence at daybreak, with
such armed horsemen and footmen as you choose to take in your company.
Ere you reach the coast the ship captains will have been informed that
I have placed you over them as their chief and commander."

Scarcely able to believe in the reality of what he heard, Olaf stood
before the king in silent perplexity. He lacked not faith in his own
personal prowess, for that had many times been amply proved in the
games and exercises that he had daily engaged in, nor did his courage
fail him. But to be placed at the head of Some hundreds of well tried
warriors and told to lead them against an enemy, this was a matter of
which he had as yet only vaguely dreamed. For many moments he stood in
doubt. But suddenly it seemed that a new light came into his clear blue
eyes, and a fuller vigour into his strong young limbs.

"If it be your wish, lord," he said at last, "then I will undertake the
trust. My great forefather, King Harald Fairhair, was younger than I
now am when he led forth his hosts to battle; and, as I am of King
Harald's blood, so will I seek to make myself a worthy man of war."

Thereupon King Valdemar led the boy away, and for a long while they sat
together, making their plans of how Olaf's forces were to invade the
island and rescue Sigurd Erikson from the hands of the rebel islanders.

On a certain calm summer evening Olaf Triggvison, mounted upon a
splendid white horse, and followed by some two score of picked
men-at-arms, rode into the little town wherein, four years before, he
had lived as a humble thrall. None knew him now for the same wild,
wilful boy whom they had been accustomed to see playing barefooted upon
the beach or tending his master's sheep upon the hillside. Even Reas
the bonder himself, who had many a time flogged him for his
disobedience and idleness, and who now watched him riding downward to
the ships, did not recognize his former bondslave in the handsome and
gaily attired young warrior. The people spoke among themselves of
Olaf's beautiful fair hair, of his crested helmet of burnished brass,
of his red silk cloak that fluttered in the breeze, and his glittering
battleaxe that hung pendant from his saddle. They admired his easy seat
upon horseback, and, when he spoke, they marvelled at the full richness
of his voice. But none could say that they had ever before set eyes
upon him.

Out in the mid bay the king's six longships lay at anchor, with their
sails furled and their high gunwales set with shields from prow to
stern. The largest vessel had at her prow the towering figure of a
winged dragon ornamented with beaten gold. She was the longest ship
that Olaf had ever seen, and he counted that she was fitted for twenty
pairs of oars. Her hull was painted red and green above the water, and
the tent that covered her decks was made of striped red and white
cloth. As he stood gazing at her, with wonder and admiration, a small
boat came round from her further side, rowed by six seamen and steered
by a stalwart, red bearded warrior, whom the young commander had once
before seen at the king's court in Holmgard. Jarl Asbiorn was his name.
When the boat touched at the wharf Asbiorn greeted Olaf very humbly and
bade him step on board. Olaf called Egbert to his side and together
they were taken out to the dragon ship and received with great honour
by the six captains, who each in turn took vows of submission and
obedience to him. Then, while the ships were being got ready for sea,
Olaf was shown into a large room under the poop and told that this was
to be his private cabin. Here he held counsel with his officers
touching the expedition they were now entering upon.

It was a proud moment for Olaf when, just at the sun's setting and at
his own word of command, the oars of the six ships were thrust out from
the bulwarks and the vessels began to move slowly out of the bay.

The warlike spirit that had been lying quiet within him now filled him
with a strange new energy. The fresh sea air and the sense of his own
power seemed to have entered every vein in his body, thrilling him with
an eager desire for glory, which amounted almost to a madness. As he
trod his ship's deck the seamen and fighting men watched him in
wondering interest, and declared among themselves that Balder himself
could not have been more beautiful. At first they thought that he was
too young to be trusted with the sole command of six great vessels of
war, but very soon he showed them that he was well able to do all that
was expected of him; and there was something in his voice, in the quick
glance of his eyes, and in his alertness that made them acknowledge him
as one who was born to be a leader of men. So they obeyed him in all
things and yielded to his will in such wise that he had no trouble of
any sort.

Before this time he had had no experience in the working of a ship; so
in the early part of the voyage he gave his mind to the learning of all
matters wherein he knew himself to be most ignorant. He watched the
setting of the sails and asked many questions concerning them, until he
could understand why at any time a certain rope was hauled or loosened,
and why when the wind blew strong a reef was taken in. Always he took
great interest in the working of the oars. There were in his own ship
four score of rowing men--two at each oar--and as he watched them he
marvelled how they could endure the hard labour without breaking their
backs or tearing out their arms; and to prove to himself what amount of
strength the work required he went down into the ship's waist and,
taking off his shirt of chain mail, took his turn upon one of the
benches, thus winning the praise of all on board. But most of all he
loved to take the tiller in his hand and steer the vessel through the
dangers of the wind swept sea.

On the evening of the third day the ships came within sight of the
island of Dago, and the young commander bade his men get ready their
weapons lest the islanders should offer resistance. During the night he
brought his fleet to an anchorage under a small holm, whose high cliffs
sheltered the ships from the view of the larger island. Then launching
a small boat and disguising himself in a rough seaman's cloak, he took
Egbert and four of the men with him and they rowed across the channel
and made a landing.

Olaf questioned a shepherd whom he met on the upland pastures, and from
him learned that Rand the Strong was still recognized among the
islanders as their king and that the power of King Valdemar was broken.
So Olaf returned to the ships and brought them round into a wide bay,
upon whose shores the town was built.

Not long was Rand the Strong in mustering his little army of vikings,
for he had seen the six ships approaching; he knew them to be the ships
of King Valdemar, and quickly guessed with what intent they had come.

At sight of the islanders massed in battle array upon the beach Olaf
bade his rowers draw yet nearer into the shallows. Then the war horns
were sounded on both sides, the warriors set their arrows to the
bowstring and a fierce fight began. More than once the islanders
retreated before the heavy rain of arrows and stones, but again and
again they rallied and assailed the ships. Many of the vikings rushed
into the water and swam outward to the ships, but before they could
climb the bulwarks and set foot upon the decks they were cut down by
Olaf's swordsmen or slain, even as they swam, by arrow or spear.

Olaf himself stood at the prow of his dragon ship, surrounded by his
berserks, whose shields protected him, and coolly he drew arrow after
arrow from his sheath and sent it with unerring aim into the midst of
the islanders. Stones and arrows fell about him in a constant rain,
crashing upon his helmet and breaking against the close-knit rings of
his coat of mail. At last he singled out the tall figure of Rand the
Strong, who, rallying his vikings, led them nearer to the water's edge.
Olaf chose one of his best arrows and fixed it to his bowstring, then
bent his bow with the full strength of his arms, aiming very steadily.
The bowstring twanged and the arrow flew whizzing through the air. Olaf
watched its quick flight and followed it until it struck its intended
mark and stood quivering in the bare part of the viking's throat. Rand
staggered and fell. Then the islanders, seeing that their chief was
slain, drew back once more to the higher beach, while Olaf brought his
ships yet closer into the shallows and ordered his forces to land. With
his sword in hand he led his men to the attack. There was a sharp hand
to hand fight, in which many were killed on both sides; but at last the
islanders gave way before the invaders and Olaf got the victory.

So, when the fight was at an end, Olaf called the chief rebels before
him and forced them to acknowledge King Valdemar as their rightful and
sole sovereign. When peace was restored he demanded that Sigurd Erikson
and those who had been of his following should be set at liberty. Among
the first who were freed from the prison in Rand's stronghold was
Thorgils Thoralfson. But Sigurd Erikson was found dead in his cell. The
islanders declared that he had died of his wounds, but Olaf believed
that hunger and hardship were the cause of it.

Greatly did Olaf Triggvison grieve over the loss of his uncle. Sigurd
had been as a father to him, had lifted him up out of his sordid life
of thraldom and raised him to his present high position in the favour
of the court. And now he was dead and there was an end of all his
loving kindness.

For the rest of that day Olaf was engaged in the burial of the brave
islanders and vikings who had fallen in the battle, and he had a mound
built over them and raised stones above them to mark the place. But at
night he had Sigurd Erikson's body carried down to the beach with all
the other men who had been of King Valdemar's host. One of the smaller
ships was then brought in to the beach, and a pyre of tarred wood and
dry peat was built upon its upper deck. Olaf placed the dead body of
his uncle upon the pyre, with all the armour that Sigurd had worn. The
ship was further loaded with the dead men and with weapons. Then, when
the tide had risen and the vessel was afloat with her sail hoisted,
Olaf went on board alone with a lighted torch and kindled the pyre. The
wind blew off shore and the ship sailed slowly out upon the dark sea.
There was a loud crackling of dry twigs and the flames rose amid a
cloud of black smoke, showing Olaf standing at the stern with the
tiller in his hand. Very soon the fire caught the logs of tarred wood,
and when the pyre was all aglow and the heat became too great for him
to bear, he fixed the steering board with the end of a rope, gave a
farewell look at the prostrate body of his uncle, and then stepping to
the rail threw himself overboard into the sea and swam back to the
land. When he got his feet upon the rocks he climbed up to a grassy
knoll and sat there watching the burning ship. The leaping flames lit
up the sky and cast a long track of light upon the rippled sea.
Presently both sail and mast fell over with a crash, and a cloud of
fiery sparks rose high into the black night. Still Olaf sat watching;
nor did he move away until at last the ship had burned down to the
water's edge, and there was no more to be seen but a tiny gleam of
light shining far out upon the dark and silent waves.

On the next morning, having ended this work of quelling the rebel
islanders, Olaf led his fleet out of the bay and set forth on his
return to the mainland. In three days' time he was once more in
Holmgard. There he remained for two other years, enjoying great favour
in the court and performing many important services. He sustained a
great company of men-at-arms at his own cost from the wealth that he
had inherited from his Uncle Sigurd, and from such riches as the king
bestowed upon him; and the leading of this host throve so well in his
hands that all the younger men of the realm flocked to his side, eager
to be enlisted in his service.

Now it befell--as oft it must when outland men win fame and power
beyond those of the land--that many folks envied Olaf the great love he
had of the king, and of the queen no less. His bravery and his great
success in all that he undertook brought him many secret enemies, who
whispered all sorts of evil whispers to King Valdemar. They declared
that Olaf was but increasing his influence and power so that in the end
he might do some hurt to the king and to the realm. They slandered him
and spoke all manner of evil against him, representing him as a
dangerous rival to Valdemar in the affections of both the queen and the
people. So the king, hearing these false charges and believing them,
began to look coldly upon young Olaf and to treat him roughly. Olaf
then knew that it was time for him to be going, for that confidence
once lost could never be wholly restored. So he went to King Valdemar
and spoke with him, saying that as he was now grown tall and strong he
was minded to travel and to see the land wherein his ancestors had
ruled and his own father had been sovereign.

Little sorrow did the jealous Valdemar show at hearing of this resolve.
And to hasten Olaf's departure he gave him great gifts of well wrought
weapons--a splendid sword inlaid with gold on the blade and set in the
hilt with dear bought gems, and a shield of embossed brass. Also he
furnished him with a dragonship and four longships, ready manned and
equipped for the sea, and bade him go a-roving wheresoever he willed in
search of adventure and worldly furtherance.

Queen Allogia, however, was very sad at thought of thus losing her
favourite, and it was long ere she would make up her mind to let Olaf
leave her. But in the end she saw that it was for his own good and
advancement that he should go; so she gave him a beautiful banner of
silken embroidery that she had worked with her own hands, told him that
he would be accounted a noble and brave man wheresoever he should
chance to be, and then bade him a last farewell.



CHAPTER VIII: THE YOUNG VIKINGS.


So Olaf quitted Holmgard and went on shipboard, and stood out with his
viking fleet into the Baltic Sea. He now owed no allegiance to any man,
but was free to journey where he pleased, a king upon his own decks. At
this time he was scarcely eighteen summers old; but his limbs were so
well knit and strong, and he was withal so tall and manly, that he
seemed already to have attained to man's estate. Yet, feeling that his
youth might be against him, he had chosen that all his ship companions
should be as near as possible to his own age. He had a score or so of
bearded berserks on each of his ships--men who feared neither fire nor
steel, but who gloried in warfare, and loved nothing better than to be
in the midst of a great battle. These indeed were full aged men; but
for the rest, his crew of seamen and his band of trained men-at-arms
was comprised of youths, none of whom were older than Thorgils
Thoralfson, or younger than Olaf himself.

Olaf made his foster brother the chief in command under himself, giving
him power over both seamen and warriors. He made his friend Egbert the
sailing master, while one Kolbiorn Stallare became his master-of-arms.

Kolbiorn was the son of a powerful viking of Sognfiord in Norway. He
was of an age with Olaf Triggvison, and so much did the two resemble
one the other that, when apart, they were often taken to be brothers.
Both had the long fair hair and the blue eyes of the Norseland, both
were of nearly equal height; and it was Kolbiorn's habit to strive, by
wearing similar clothing, to increase the likeness between himself and
his young master. But when the two were side by side the resemblance
ceased, for then Olaf was seen to be both the taller and the more
muscular; his hair was seen to be more golden and silken, his skin more
purely fair; his eyes, too, were brighter and larger than those of
Kolbiorn, and his teeth more even and white. So, too, when it came to a
test of skill, Olaf had ever the advantage, notwithstanding that
Kolbiorn had spent all his young days on shipboard, had been taught by
the vikings to perform all manner of feats, and had taken part in many
battles on both land and sea.

On a certain calm morning, very soon after Olaf had set out on this his
first viking cruise, he stood with Kolbiorn at the ship's rail, looking
out over the sunlit sea as his vessel crept along propelled by her
forty long, sweeping oars, and followed by his four longships.

"I think," said he, "that we will amuse ourselves today, and try our
skill in some new game."

"I am very unfit to try my skill against yours," returned Kolbiorn
modestly, "for you have already beaten me at chess, at swimming, at
shooting, and at throwing the spear. Nevertheless, it shall be as you
wish."

"Choose, then, what feat we are to perform," said Olaf; "I am willing
to join in any exercise that you may know, and I do not doubt that
there are many in which your skill must be greater than mine."

"There is one," said Kolbiorn, "that I would be glad to see you
attempt, although there is danger in it, and I may be doing wrong in
suggesting it."

"If it be new to me, then I shall be all the more pleased," said Olaf;
"and none the less so though the risk be great."

Kolbiorn drew the young commander across to the shady side of the ship.

"It is that we shall climb over the bulwarks," said he, "and walk
outboard along the oars while the men are rowing."

Olaf looked over the side, and for a few moments watched the regular
motion of the oars as they dipped into the green water and rose
dripping into the air. He measured with his eye the space between each
of the twenty blades.

"It seems not so difficult as I had hoped," he said, "but let me see
you do it, and then I will follow."

Kolbiorn climbed over the ship's quarter, and worked his way forward to
the first rower's bench. Steadying himself for a moment as he hung by
one arm from the gunwale, he dropped with his two feet upon the
aftermost oar, and stepped out thence from oar to oar until he reached
the one nearest to the forecastle. Then, still balancing himself with
outstretched arms, he turned and walked aft by the same way to where
Olaf and many of the ship's company had stood watching him. All thought
it a very wonderful feat.

Olaf praised Kolbiorn's skill, but promptly prepared to follow his
example. Throwing off his red silk cloak, lest, by falling into the
sea, he should injure it, he climbed overboard, and without hesitation
dropped down upon the square shank of the aftermost oar; then going out
near to the blade, he ran forward with quick, well measured strides.
Once or twice, as the oars were dipped, he faltered and nearly lost his
balance, but he reached the foremost one without accident, and returned
with greater ease. When he again stepped upon the deck he appealed to
Thorgils Thoralfson to decide which had shown the more skill. But
Thorgils was unable to determine the matter.

"The game has not yet had sufficient trial," said Olaf; "it must be
gone through once more. But this time I will myself take the lead, and
let Kolbiorn or any other of our company follow."

Then he asked Thorgils and Kolbiorn to lend him their handsaxes, and
taking his own from his belt he again climbed over the side, and
walking along the row of moving oars played with the three dirks,
throwing them in turn up into the air, so that one was ever aloft and
one hilt ever in his hand. Thus he played as he strode forward, without
once dropping one of the weapons, and without once missing his sure
footing. Climbing over the forecastle deck he then returned along the
oars on the other side, and reached the deck with dry shoes.

No one on board could understand how Olaf had done this surprising feat
without having practised it many times before, and when he gave back
the two dirks to their owners, Kolbiorn stood before him and looked at
him in silence.

Olaf said: "Why do you stand thus and not try after me?"

"Because I own myself beaten," answered Kolbiorn. "And yet," he added,
"I cannot believe that you did this feat by your skill alone and
without some secret power. Either you have the favour of Odin to aid
you, or else you are descended from some mighty king whose natural
skill you have inherited. Marvellous does it seem to me that whatsoever
exercise you attempt, in that you are certain to surpass all other men."

Olaf laughed lightly and turned away towards his cabin, while his ship
fellows continued to talk among themselves of this new example of his
great agility.

Thus, even at the beginning of his free life as a sea rover, he had
made upon his companions so deep an impression that they one and all
respected him, and openly acknowledged him their superior in all things.

But most of all, they wondered of what kin he had been born that he
should so easily and with such little effort excel all men they had
known. For although they well knew that he had been a favourite at the
court of King Valdemar, yet none even guessed at the truth that he was
a blood descendant of the great Harald Fairhair; and less still did any
imagine that he was even now heir to the throne of Norway. None but
Thorgils Thoralfson knew his true name. At this time, and indeed
throughout the whole course of his after adventures in Britain, he was
known only as Ole the Esthonian.

Now although Olaf had spoken of his wish to return to the land of his
fathers, yet now that he was upon his own dragonship, and free to
follow where fortune should lead him, he showed no haste to make a
landing in Norway. He bent his course across the Gulf of Finland, and
then westward among the many green islands and rocky holms that lie in
the mid sea between Finland and Sweden, and for many sunny days and
calm starry nights simply enjoyed the idle pleasures of his new life of
freedom.

It was the summer season, when all the channels of the sea were clear
of ice, and there were many trading ships abroad which might have been
an easy prey had Olaf so chosen to fall upon them. But although he was
a viking, and had all the viking's lust for war and plunder, he yet
remembered the time when his own mother had been taken by Jarl Klerkon
and sold into bondage. So he determined to let all peaceful merchant
ships alone, and to join battle only with such vessels as were intent
upon warfare. In token of this resolve he had the great dragon's head
lowered from his prow, so that its wide open jaws and terrible aspect
might not strike fear into the hearts of the peaceable traders; and the
shields that were ranged along his outer bulwarks were peace shields,
painted white, as showing that he meant no harm to those who might
chance to meet him on the seas.

His berserks, and many of the young men who had joined his fellowship
in the hope of gain, grumbled sometimes when they saw him allow some
richly laden ship to go by without attacking her, and they declared
that after all he was a viking only in name. Olaf bade them wait in
patience, reminding them that there was no lack of good food and well
brewed ale on board, and that they had no need to feel discontent so
long as their daily life was passed in bodily comfort.

"And as to fighting," he added, "I cannot think that any of you would
take pleasure in drawing arms against men who have not been trained in
warfare."

Not long did they need to wait ere their instinct for fighting was in
part satisfied.

One gloomy forenoon his ships with their sails full set were speeding
before a strong wind through the wide channel of sea dividing the two
large islands of Gottland and Eyland. Thorgils was at the tiller of the
dragon ship--a post which, in the viking times, was always held by the
chief man on deck. As he stood there, his eyes swept the wide stretch
of the grey sea in search of ships; for Olaf Triggvison had now put his
red war shields out on the bulwarks, and the winged dragon reared its
great gilded head at the prow, as if in menace. Olaf himself was below
in his cabin under the poop, watching a game of chess that Kolbiorn and
Egbert were playing.

The chessboard was a very beautiful one, its squares being of inlaid
silver and gold, with little pegs in the centre of each space upon
which the pieces might be fixed, and so prevented from being upset or
from changing place when the vessel rolled. It was accounted a great
privilege by Olaf's companions to be allowed to play upon this costly
board, and Olaf had made it a condition that all who used it must do so
without dispute. For a long time Kolbiorn and Egbert went on peaceably
with their game. But while Olaf watched them, he noticed that Egbert
became more and more ruffled, as he found himself being constantly
baffled by his opponent's better play. So great was Kolbiorn's skill
that Egbert at length became desperate, and only made matters worse by
his hasty moves. He wanted to move back a knight which he had exposed,
but Kolbiorn would not allow it. Olaf advised them to leave the knight
where it now stood, and not to quarrel. At this Egbert's anger grew
hot, and declaring that he would not take Olaf's advice, he swept his
hand over the board, upset the pieces upon the cabin floor, and leaning
forward struck Kolbiorn a blow upon the ear, so that blood flowed.

Kolbiorn rose from his seat and quietly turned towards the door. There
he was met by one of his shipmates, who called out in an excited voice
that there was a large viking ship in sight, and that she was bearing
down towards them as though to give battle.

Olaf followed Kolbiorn from the cabin, and together they mounted to the
deck. Looking out across the sea they saw the viking ship rowing
towards them against the wind. In her wake there was a second vessel,
drifting helpless and untended, with her sail flapping wildly in the
wind and her oars all inboard. Olaf quickly noticed that there were
people on her forward deck, and that she was slowly sinking. It was
evident to him that she was a trading ship, which the vikings had but
newly attacked and plundered. For a moment he hesitated, wondering
whether he should hasten to her rescue or at once enter in battle with
the vikings. He saw that his men were already eagerly preparing for a
fight. Some, according to their custom before a battle, were busily
washing themselves and combing their hair, while others were eating and
drinking. There was no need for them to make ready their weapons, for
these had been kept well prepared ever since the beginning of the
cruise, and there was nothing further to be done than to bring the
arrows up on deck and serve them round among the bowmen, twenty arrows
to each man's quiver; and as for swords, spears, and armour, every man
on board knew well where to put his hand on his own.

Bidding Kolbiorn go forward to the forecastle and marshal his berserks
and bowmen, Olaf took down his war horn and blew a loud blast as
challenge. At the same moment a red painted shield was hoisted to the
yardarm. Then he went aft and took the tiller from Thorgils, and
steered his bark as though to meet the approaching foe. But when he got
within arrow shot of the stranger he suddenly altered his course,
crossing her bows. The vikings, who could not yet have noticed the four
consort ships that were still far behind, no doubt thought that he
meant to make his escape, and they bore round in pursuit of him. But
now Olaf had managed to get his vessel between the two other ships,
and, having the wind in his sail and his oars at work, he quickly
outdistanced the viking, and sped along at a great rate towards the
sinking trading ship.  Not too soon was he in getting alongside of her,
for the vikings had scuttled her, and she had already settled down with
her quarter bulwarks on a level with the water's edge. He rescued a
full score of helpless men from her decks, and stood by her until she
went down. By this time the viking ship had again come within bow shot
of him, and his four longships had appeared in sight from behind the
headland of one of the islands.

Olaf had now his sail brailed up to the yard, and his vessel's prow
turned towards the oncoming enemy. Having resigned the helm to the
charge of one of his seamen, he donned his war armour and went forward
to the prow. Here the strongest and most experienced of his men were
stationed as stem defenders, armed with swords and spears, and
protected by their shields. Among them stood Olaf's standard bearer,
round whom they were ranged in battle order. The station abaft that
occupied by the stem defenders was manned by the berserks, and behind
the mast were the spearmen, archers, and stone slingers.

Olaf and Kolbiorn, who were both armed with their longbows and a large
number of picked arrows, as well as their swords, stood side by side by
the banner bearer. Olaf again blew his war horn, while Kolbiorn fired
an arrow of challenge high over the mast of the viking ship. When the
two vessels drew near, Olaf saw that the stranger's forward decks were
crowded, with fighting men, whom, by their dark hair and brown skin, he
rightly judged to be Danes. The ships crashed together stem to stem,
and then grappling hooks were thrown out from either side, and the
vessels were bound close together, so that neither might escape until
the fighting was at an end.

Thus at close quarters the battle began, and very soon the air was
thick with swift flying arrows, and with showers of spears and stones.
The chiefs on either side shouted aloud, urging their fellows to the
fray, and many a well tried warrior was sent that day to Odin's halls.
For a long while it seemed that the Danes were getting the upper hand,
for they greatly outnumbered the men on Olaf's dragonship. But as the
fight grew fiercer Olaf's berserks worked themselves to a wild fury,
and, led by Olaf and Kolbiorn, they made a rush upon the enemy's
forecastle, carrying all before them as an autumn wind carries the
withered leaves. For three long hours the battle continued, man to man;
but at last Olaf got the victory, and took the Dane ship as his prize,
with all the treasure and costly armour, all the slaves and stores on
board of her. His four longships had not joined in the contest, because
it was always considered unfair to oppose an adversary with unequal
force. But now they were brought nearer, and when all the wreckage of
the fight was cleared away he placed some of his own men on board the
prize, divided the spoil among all his fellowship, and once more sailed
off, well satisfied with his first success.

Southward he sailed down the Swedish coast, and met with adventures too
many to be told. And at length he made for Borgund holm, an island that
lies out in the Baltic to the south of Sweden. By this time his stores
had run short, so he fell upon the island and harried there. The
landsmen came in great force and waged battle against him; but Olaf
again won the victory, and got great plunder of horses and cattle.

He lay by Borgund holm for many weeks, with his tents ranged in order
along a stretch of the beach, and his ships drawn up to the high water
mark. Every day his men held sports, and at night they all sat in their
tents drinking and throwing dice, or listening to the sagamen's stories
of the great deeds of byegone warriors. Olaf himself joined always in
their feasts and revels, and he was ever the merriest and gamesomest in
the company.

One day while his ships were still at Borgund holm, his two chief men,
Kolbiorn and Thorgils, were boasting of their skill at climbing. They
contended as to who could climb the steepest rock, and at last they
made a bet. Kolbiorn wagered his gold neck ring against Thorgils' best
bronze drinking horn. After this they both climbed the high cliff.
Thorgils went so far that he was in danger of falling down, and he
returned in fear, saving himself with difficulty. Kolbiorn climbed up
to the middle of the precipice; but there he dared go neither forward
nor backward, nor even move, for he had no hold upon the rock for
either feet or hands. His position was so perilous that he foresaw
certain death if he should make the least movement. He shouted in great
fear for Olaf or his men to rescue him. Olaf called some brave man to
venture the deed and offered a large reward; but not one of his company
stirred. Then Olaf threw off his cloak and ran up the face of the rock
as though it had been a level plain, took Kolbiorn under his arms, and
went farther up with him. He then turned to descend with the man under
his arm and laid him unharmed on the ground. All praised this as a
great feat, and the fame of it was widely spread. Long afterwards he
performed the similar feat of climbing to the topmost peak of the
mountain called Smalsarhorn, in Norway, and there suspending his
shining shield upon the summit, so that it shone like a sun across the
sea.

Many tales are told of his strength and agility--of how he could smite
alike with either hand, of how he could shoot with two spears at once.
It is said that he could jump higher than his own height both backwards
and forwards, and this with his weapons and complete armour on. He was
the swiftest and strongest swimmer in all Scandinavia, and at running
and climbing no man was his equal.

And yet he was no boaster. His great deeds came of his eagerness in all
matters, and not from a desire to belittle his companions. He was kind
and lowly hearted, bountiful of gifts, very glorious of attire, and
before all men for high heart in battle. It may be that he also was
cruel, for it is told that he was stern and wrathful with all who
offended him, and that in punishing his enemies he knew no mercy. He,
however, sought only to do all things that it was customary for a
viking to do. To win fame, to gain wealth, to plunder, and to
slay--these were the passions that ruled him. The ocean was his only
home. He derided the comforts of a warm fireside and scorned the man
who should sleep under a sooty rafter or die on a bed of straw. To give
up his last breath amid the clamour of battle was his one unalterable
ambition; for only those who died thus, besprinkled with blood, could
ever hope to win favour of the pagan gods, or to enter the sacred halls
of Valhalla. In the spirit of his times he believed that the viking
life was the noblest and most honourable that a man could follow; he
believed that the truest title to all property was given by winning it
with the sword, and very soon he became as wild and reckless as any sea
rover on the Baltic. No danger, howsoever great, had power to daunt
him, or to lessen his joy in the fresh freedom of the open sea with its
wild hoarse winds and its surging perilous storms.

It was in the autumntide that Olaf encountered the first serious storm.
By this time he had added to his fleet many vessels which he had
captured in battle, and some that he had had built by his shipwrights;
and he bethought him that he would now sail out of the Baltic Sea and
make his way round to the coasts of Norway, where, with his great force
of men and ships behind him, he might surely hope to win the glory that
he coveted. He had kept his favourite companions and his chosen
warriors on board his dragonship, so that they might ever be near him
in case of need. But Egbert of Britain and Kolbiorn Stallare, after
their quarrel over the game of chess, had not been friendly towards
each other, so Egbert was placed in command over one of the other
vessels of the fleet--a Longship named the Snake.

On a certain day the ships were making westward under easy sail when
the storm burst suddenly upon them, with a bitter cold wind from the
north that quickly whipped the sea into great towering waves. The hail
and sleet fell so heavily that the men in the bow of each ship were
hidden from those in the stern, and the seas broke over the bulwarks,
deluging the decks and cabins, so that the men in the baling room were
kept constantly at work with their scoops and buckets. All cried upon
Njord, the sea god, and upon Thor and Odin no less, to save them out of
their peril; but the raging storm continued throughout the night and
the whole of the next day, and all the time Olaf stood at the helm,
bravely facing the tempest and keeping his vessel's prow pointing
northward to meet the towering waves. Often it seemed that he would be
swept overboard by the wild rush of water, but his great strength
endured the strain, and though nearly blinded by the pelting hail he
still held on.

With the evening of the second day the wind's force abated, and the
heavy clouds that had darkened the sky melted away in a glow of sunset
gold. Then Olaf looked around upon the wide turbulent sea and counted
his ships. Some had lost their masts, and others had been swept far
away towards the dim horizon. One of them alone was missing: it was the
longship of Egbert of Britain. Olaf had little doubt that she had
foundered with all on board, and yet he knew that Egbert was a brave
and skilful seaman, and he thought it strange that he should have
failed to weather the storm, so, finding no other explanation, he
declared that it was because Egbert was a Christian that this disaster
had happened. Had he been a true believer in the mighty gods of the
northmen, said Olaf, he would surely have surmounted all dangers, and
his ship and crew had been saved! And all who heard them regarded the
young chief's words as words of wisdom, for they did not know, and
neither did Olaf himself at that moment dream, that Egbert and his
ship's company were safe and sound in the shelter of the high headland
of Borgund holm. Not for many years thereafter did Olaf and Egbert
again meet, and when they did so, it was face to face as foemen on the
battle plain of Maldon, in far off England.

When the storm had spent its force, and the sea was calm, Olaf brought
his ships together, made the needful repairs, and led the way southward
to the shores of Wendland. There he got good haven and, faring full
peacefully, abode there throughout the winter months.



CHAPTER IX: THE VIKINGS OF JOMSBURG.


Burislaf was the name of the king in Wendland. He was a very wealthy
monarch and held in high esteem throughout the countries of the Baltic,
and his court was the frequent meeting place of the great men of that
time. Now Burislaf had three very beautiful daughters--Geira, Gunnhild,
and Astrid--whom many noble and kingly men sought vainly to win in
marriage. Geira, the eldest of the three, held rule and dominion in the
land, for it was much the wont of mighty kings in those days that they
should let the queen, or the eldest daughter, have half the court to
sustain it at her own cost out of the revenues that came to her share.
So when Geira heard that alien folk were come into Wendland, with a
great fleet of viking ships, and that the chief of them was a young man
of unusual prowess and noble mien, she sent friendly messengers to the
coast and bade the newcomers be her guests that wintertide, for the
summer was now far spent, and the weather hard and stormy. And Olaf
Triggvison took her bidding, and went with his chosen captains to the
court, where he was well received and most hospitably entertained.

It is told that when Geira saw how kingly of aspect Olaf was, and how
handsome and courteous withal, she at once yearned for his love and
craved that he should wed with her and become a ruler in the land. Many
legends which have come down to us from that time even state that she
straightway fell a-wooing him, and that in the end they were married,
and ruled the realm side by side. But it is not easy to believe that
one who was heir to the throne of Norway would be content to remain in
Wendland at the bidding of a woman he did not love, and it is to be
remembered that Olaf was still little more than a youth, while Geira
was already well advanced in years. Moreover, Olaf had at this same
time met Thyra, the daughter of the king of Denmark--a princess who was
not only more beautiful, but also much nearer his own age than Geira,
and who afterwards became his wife and queen. Howsoever it be, Olaf had
lived but a few months in Wendland when Geira was stricken with an
illness and died.

Among the guests of King Burislaf were two men who in the later time
had a large share in the shaping of Olaf's destiny, first as his
friends, and afterwards as his enemies. Their names were Earl Sigvaldi
of Jomsburg and Sweyn of Denmark.

Earl Sigvaldi was the son of Strut-Harald, sometime King of Skaney, and
at the time of his meeting with Olaf in Wendland he was lord over the
great company of vikings who had their stronghold in Jomsburg. He was a
very mighty man, and his wealth and personal prowess were such that
Burislaf's daughter Astrid encouraged his wooing of her with the result
that they were wedded.

Earl Sweyn was a younger man, the son of Harald Bluetooth, King of
Denmark. He had come into Wendland in the company of his friend
Sigvaldi, for they had both been a-warring together, and, being beaten
in a great sea fight, they had taken refuge in the court of Burislaf.
Their warring had been against Sweyn's own father, King Harald. Sweyn
had craved dominion in his father's realm, but Harald Bluetooth
preferred to retain his throne undivided. Then Sweyn gathered warships
together and got the help of the Jomsburg vikings, and stood towards
Zealand, where King Harald lay with his fleet ready to fare to the wars
against Norway. So Sweyn fell upon his father's ships, and there was a
great battle, in which Harald Bluetooth got the victory, but also his
death wound. Now the arrow with which King Harald was killed was one
bearing marks which showed it to be of his own son's making, and Sweyn
fled lest vengeance should overtake him.

Now Sigvaldi, knowing that it would not be long ere the Danes claimed
Sweyn as their king, was anxious to assure a peace between Wendland and
Denmark, and with this purpose he had brought Sweyn in his company to
King Burislaf's court, and it was then arranged that Sweyn should wed
Gunnhild, daughter of Burislaf, and that thereafter there should be
peace between the two lands. So when the wedding was over, King Sweyn
fared home to Denmark with Gunnhild his wife, and they became the
parents of Canute the Mighty--the same who in his manhood fought
against Edmund Ironsides and reigned as King of England.

In those days the Danes and their neighbours the Wends made great
threats of sailing with a host to Norway, and Olaf Triggvison heard
much talk of this threatened expedition from Earl Sigvaldi. He learned,
too, something of what had been taking place in his native land since
the time of the death of King Triggvi.

By their evil work Queen Gunnhild and the sons of Erik Bloodaxe had, as
they thought, put an end to the family of Harald Fairhair, for they had
lost all trace of Queen Astrid and her boy Olaf, and none remained to
dispute the throne of Norway. In the province of Thrandheim, however,
there reigned a certain Earl Sigurd, who yet gave them great trouble.
To rid themselves of all danger from him they resorted to treachery.
They had murdered King Triggvi and his four brothers, and they had
little scruple in employing the same means towards Earl Sigurd, so they
entrapped him and put him to death. After this deed Harald Greyfell
reigned as King of Norway for five troublous and unfruitful years. By
the slaying of Earl Sigurd, however, the sons of Erik raised up against
themselves an enemy who proved more dangerous to them than any they had
yet encountered. This was Earl Hakon, the son of Sigurd, a most
powerful and sagacious warrior, whose one desire was to avenge his
father's death and drive the whole race of Erik Bloodaxe from the land.
Nor was he long in fulfilling his designs. By a daring intrigue, and
with help from Denmark, he succeeded not only in bringing King Harald
Greyfell to his bane, but also in winning his own way to the throne of
Norway. Queen Gunnhild and her two surviving sons then fled over sea to
the Orkneys, and that was the end of them.

Now, when Olaf heard these things and understood that Earl Hakon,
although not of royal birth or lineage, was still recognized as the
king in Norway, he resolved to join issue with the Danes and Wends in
their projected expedition, and he spoke with Earl Sigvaldi, offering
the support of all his ships and men. Well satisfied was Sigvaldi at
hearing this offer made, and he gladly accepted it, for he had quickly
discerned that Ole the Esthonian was a young warrior whose help would
be most valuable, even apart from the great force of battleships and
fighting men that were under his command.

So when the winter had passed by, and the sea was clear of ice, Olaf
had his ships refitted, mustered his men, and set sail along the
Wendland coast towards the island of Wollin, at the mouth of the river
Oder, upon which stood the great stronghold of Jomsburg.

Jomsburg had been founded and built by King Harald Bluetooth of
Denmark, who possessed a great earldom in Wendland. He had garrisoned
the place with vikings on the condition that they should defend the
land, and be always ready to support him in any warlike expedition.
There was a very fine harbour or dock made within the Burgh, in which
three hundred longships could lie at the same time, all being locked
within the strongly built walls of granite with their massive gates of
iron. The Jomsburg vikings were a well disciplined company of pirates
who made war their exclusive business, living by rapine and plunder.
Their firm belief in the heathen gods justified them in following this
mode of life, and often they fought for mere fighting's sake. They were
bound by very strict laws to obey their chief. No man older than fifty
or younger than eighteen winters could be received into the fellowship;
they were all to be between these two ages. No man could join the band
who was known to have ever yielded in fight to an opponent his match in
strength of arms. Every member admitted swore by the hammer of Thor to
revenge all the rest as his brother. Slander was forbidden. No woman or
child was ever to be molested or carried away as captive, and all the
spoil or plunder of war was to be equally divided. One very important
law was that no member of the band was ever to utter a word of fear or
to flinch from pain, or to attempt to dress his wounds until they had
bled for four and twenty hours. Nothing could occur within the Burgh
over which the chief should not have full power to rule as he liked. If
any broke these rules he was to be punished by instant expulsion from
the community.

For two days after the time when Olaf's fleet anchored abreast of the
gates of Jomsburg, there was the work of inspecting all his men and
ships and arms. Some two score of the men were rejected by Earl
Sigvaldi, some because they were at enmity with certain vikings who
were already of the band, others because they had killed some near
kinsman of one of the members, and yet others who refused to follow or
obey any other chief than Olaf Triggvison alone. But the ships and
their equipment were all pronounced seaworthy and in good condition;
so, after the vows had been made, there was held a great feast, and
Olaf was chosen as a captain under Earl Sigvaldi, holding the command
of his own division of the Jomsburg fleet.

Now, during the summer months of that same year, Olaf went out upon a
viking cruise into the Gulf of Bothnia. On the coast of Jemptland and
Helsingialand he encountered many Swedish warships, cleared them, and
slew many men, and took all the wealth of them. It was his habit to lie
hidden behind some rocky promontory, or at the mouth of some vik, or
creek, and thence dart out upon his unsuspecting prey; and he would
thus creep along the coast from vik to vik, harrying and plundering
wheresoever he went. And in all his battles he never received a wound
or lost a ship, but always got the victory. He was accounted the most
favoured by the gods among all the vikings of Jomsburg, and his renown
spread far and wide.

When Olaf returned at the beginning of the winter to Jomsburg he heard
that Earl Sigvaldi's father, Strut-Harald of Skaney, had just died. Now
it was the custom in those days that a high born man, before he could
take possession of any inheritance left to him by his father, should
hold an arvel, or inheritance feast. King Sweyn was at this time
preparing to hold such a feast before taking possession of the Danish
kingdom, so it was arranged that Sweyn and Sigvaldi should make one
arvel serve for them both, and Sweyn sent word to Sigvaldi inviting him
with all his captains and chosen warriors to join him in Zealand, and
so arrange it that the greatest possible honour should be done to the
dead.

Sigvaldi accordingly left Jomsburg with a large host of his vikings and
two score of ships. Among his captains were Olaf Triggvison, Kolbiorn
Stallare, Bui the Thick of Borgund holm, Thorkel the High, and Vagn
Akison. It was winter time, and the seas were rough, but the fleet
passed through the Danish islands without disaster, and came to an
anchorage in a large bay near which now stands the city of Copenhagen.
King Sweyn welcomed Earl Sigvaldi and all his men with great kindness.

The feast was held in a very large hall, specially built for the
reception of guests, and ornamented with splendid wood carvings and
hung about with peace shields and curtains of beautiful tapestry. King
Sweyn was dressed in very fine clothes of purple, with gold rings on
his arms and round his neck, and a band of burnished gold, set with
gems, upon his head. His beard, which was as yet but short, was trimmed
in a peculiar way--divided into two prongs--which won for him the
nickname of Sweyn Forkbeard. The tables were loaded with cooked food
and white bread; sufficient to serve all the great company for three
days. The ale and mead flowed abundantly, and there was much good cheer
in the hall. Many high born women were present, and the guests sat in
pairs, each man and woman together. Olaf Triggvison had for his partner
the Princess Thyra, sister of the king.

In the midst of the feasting Thyra turned to Olaf and asked him his
true name.

"Men call me Ole the Esthonian," answered Olaf.

"I had known so much already," returned Thyra. "It is the same name
that you bore at the time we first met in Wendland. But when I look at
you, and see your silken hair and your fair skin, it seems to me that
you must be of kingly birth."

"It is not well always to judge by appearances," Olaf said with a
smile. And he drew down the gold ring from the thick part of his bare
left arm. Thyra's eyes rested upon his arm for a moment, and she saw
imprinted there the seared brand that showed him to have been a slave;
and from that moment she ceased to regard him with personal interest.

It was the custom at such feasts as this that the high seat, or throne,
of the man whom the guests were met to do honour to, should be left
vacant until the memorial toast of the deceased, and of the mightiest
of their departed kinsmen, had been proposed. In accordance with this
custom King Sweyn stood up and drank the cup of memory to his father.
Then he stepped into the high seat, and by this act took possession of
his inheritance. The cup was filled and emptied to the last drop by
each man in turn.

The Jomsburg vikings drank eagerly on that first evening, and ever as
their drinking horns were emptied they were filled again, brimming of
the strongest. After it had gone on thus for a while, King Sweyn saw
that his guests were nearly all drunk.

"Here is great merriment," said he, rising and holding aloft his silver
drinking horn. "And I propose that we shall find a new entertainment
which will long hereafter be remembered."

Sigvaldi answered, "We think it most becoming and best for the
entertainment, that you, lord, should make the first proposal, for we
all have to obey you and follow your example."

Then the king laughed and said: "I know it has always been customary at
great feasts and meetings that all present should make vows to perform
great and valorous deeds, and I am willing to try that now. For, as
you, Jomsvikings, are far more famous than all other men in this
northern half of the world, so the vows you will make here will be as
much more renowned than others, as you are greater than other men. And
to set you an example, I will myself begin."

He filled his drinking horn to the brim and held it high, while all
waited eagerly and silently to hear what vow he should make.

"This it is," said he in a loud voice which those at the farthest end
of the hall could clearly hear. "I vow that I will, before the third
winter nights hereafter have passed, have driven King Ethelred of
England out of his realm, or else have slain him, and thus have got his
kingdom to myself!"

And so saying he quaffed his deep horn.

All wondered at this great vow, for not many had heard even the name of
King Ethelred.

"Now it is thy turn, Sigvaldi," cried Sweyn, wiping his wet lips with
the back of his hand, "and make no less a vow than mine."

Then the drink bearers bore to the vikings the biggest horns of the
strongest drink that was there, and Sigvaldi rose to his feet. He first
proposed the memory of his dead father, and before raising the drink to
his lips added this oath:

"I swear," said he, "that before three winters are worn away I will
sail over to Norway and slay Earl Hakon, or else drive him from the
land."

Now, this was the selfsame oath that Olaf Triggvison had resolved to
swear when it should come to his turn, and he was annoyed that Earl
Sigvaldi had, as it were, snatched it from his lips. He now thought
over what other vow he could make in its stead. But it chanced that ere
his turn came round all the company were either asleep or so full of
strong drink that they could not listen, so in the end he made no vow
whatsoever. Yet to the last he was as sober as when he first entered
the hall, and he remembered ever afterwards the boastful oaths that had
been made. Many of his fellow vikings--as Thorkel the High, Bui the
Thick, and Vagn Akison--declared that they would but follow their chief
to Norway, while others of Sweyn's following in like manner vowed to
accompany the king to England; and once having made these promises,
none dared to go back from them.

On the morrow, when the vikings regained their senses, they thought
they had spoken big words enough, so they met and took counsel how they
should bring about this expedition against Earl Hakon, and the end of
it was that they determined to set about it

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