Chapter I: Denmark (5)

This fable has been noticed that the reader may be prepared for the dissensions which soon took place among the sons of Harald. The four whom Snæfrida had borne him he learned to detest, through hatred of the mother; and at length he dismissed them from his palace, with the resolution to see them no more. After some time, however, one of them, Gudred, went to Hiodulf, the jarl, who was in great power, and besought him to procure him an interview with the king. Both proceeded to the royal palace, which they reached late in the evening, and they sat on the benches outside the doors unknown to everybody. Harald happened to be walking on the pavement in the court-yard—probably to enjoy the nightly breeze—and his eyes carelessly wandered over the seats. But the two strangers attracted his notice, and he asked the elder what had brought him there? Uncovering his head, Hiodulf was immediately recognised and welcomed. The veteran now pleaded for the exiled sons. He observed that if the mother’s race was bad, the father’s was not; and that the excellency of the one might more than counter-balance the evil of the other. The king was persuaded; Gudred was received into the palace; the three brothers were sent into the provinces and occupied in military exercises, in which they excelled other men.[179]

[Sidenote: 869 to 900.]

The sons of Gyda and Snæfrida were not the only ones born to Harald. By his numerous wives—and he is said to have had nine at the same time—he had a numerous progeny, who were destined to trouble his declining years. By Gyda, as we have before related, he had one daughter, Alofa, and four sons, Sigtrug, Ruric, Frode, and Thorgils. By Ragnilda, a princess of Jutland, he had Harald Blodöxe. By Swanhilda, the daughter of a Norwegian jarl, he had three sons, Olaf, Biorn, and Ragnar. By Alfhilda, daughter of the jarl of Ringarik, he had three sons and one daughter, Dag, Ring, Gudred, and Ingigerda. By the Finnish witch he had the four sons we have just enumerated. By Asa, the first of his mistresses, the daughter of jarl Hako, he had Guthrum, Halfdan the Black, Halfdan the White, and Sigfred. That he had other children by his numerous wives is undoubted. Of these, was Rognevald, and another that must be particularly mentioned,—Hako the Good, whom, in his old age, a Norwegian lady, named Thora, bore to him, and who eventually sat on the throne of Norway. All these, in conformity with the manners of the times, were educated by their maternal relatives. Few of these children survived the father. Their ambition was great, their crimes greater; and as the king descended into the vale of years, he lost all authority over them. The deaths of many were deservedly tragical. The four sons of the Finn excelled the rest in wickedness. Incensed that they were not admitted to a participation in the government, and hating the experienced jarls, whose advice was so useful to their father, they burnt Rognevald, the most obnoxious of all, in his own house, together with sixty of his followers. After this hellish deed—a deed, however, so common in northern history, as to excite little surprise—Halfdan fled to the Orkneys, but Gudred remained. The only chastisement which Harald inflicted on the latter, was to send him into Agder, probably to fill some honourable post; but Thorer, a son of Rognevald, was raised to the vacant dignity of jarl of Moria. Soon afterwards, Halfdan, who had usurped the government of the Orkneys, was taken and put to death by Einar, the lawful jarl; Harald, at the instigation of Halfdan’s brothers, sailed to revenge the death of his son; but on reaching these islands, he accepted a pecuniary mulct, and left Einar in possession of the government. Guthrum, the eldest of Harald’s sons by Asa, was the next victim; he was slain in Gothia by the Swedish governor. Halfdan the White, while absent on a piratical expedition on the eastern coast of the Baltic, was killed by the inhabitants. But the worst evil that the king dreaded was their wars with one another. To avert this calamity, on reaching his fiftieth year, he divided his provinces among them, giving to each the regal title, yet reserving to himself the supreme title of monarch. Thus, to Olaf, Biorn, Sigtrug, Frode, and Thorgils, he ceded Vingulmark, Raumarik, Westfold, and Thelamark; to Dag, Ring, and Ragnar he resigned Hedmark and Gudbransdal; to the sons of Snæfrida he gave Ringarik, Hadaland, Thotnia, and the adjacent districts; Ruric and Godred had extensive domains in the central provinces, and were generally resident at the court of Harald; Eric had Halogaland, Nordmore, and Ramsdal; over Drontheim were Halfdan the Black and Sigurd, and the same dignity had been shared by Halfdan the White. To Thorgils and Frode he gave a certain number of vessels, with permission to raise kingdoms for themselves, if they could, in the British islands. They are said to have conquered Dublin; but both perished fatally,—Frode by poison, Thorgils by the hands of the natives. Nor did he forget the offspring of his daughters. While the eldest children of his sons were for ever to enjoy the regal title, those of his daughters were to possess the dignity of jarl, and their seat in the assemblies of the state to be just one step below that of the male descendants.[180]

[Sidenote: 920.]

In the preceding paragraph, we have seen the tragical deaths of five among the sons of Harald. These were Halfdan, Haleg, Guthrum, Halfdan the White, Frode, and Thorgils. Others were to be soon added to the number. Rognevald being accused of magic,—a science which, ever since his adventure with Snæfrida, Harald held in the utmost abomination,—Eric Blodöxe, the favourite son of the monarch, was sent into Hadaland, where Rognevald was then residing. Finding, or, perhaps, pretending to find, the prince surrounded by eighty wizards,—poor wizards they, not to foresee their fate!—Eric set fire to the house, and consumed all within. This deed, which in our days would not be considered a merit, was held to be a great one in his. But another deed of his was not beheld with equal favour. Biorn, one of his brothers, who, as king of Westfold, generally resided at Tunsberg, was equally attached to piracy and commerce. By his frequent expeditions, he had amassed great riches; and his liberality, no less than his judicious administration, had won him the respect of his subjects. On these Eric cast a longing eye; nor was he less jealous of a brother, who, when his father should be no more, might dispute his claim to the monarchy,—a claim which he always advanced, and which his father had sanctioned. With the view of enveloping the merchant king in his toils, Eric demanded the tribute which was due to Harald for the kingdom of Westfold. Biorn replied that he had always delivered it into the hands of his sovereign, either personally, or through his agents; and that he should not, on this occasion, deviate from the custom. A dispute arose, and Eric, in great anger, left Tunsberg. At nightfall Biorn also left it for a marine residence not far from the city. With a chosen band Eric followed his steps, and assailed the house as the king sat at table. With all the domestics whom he could muster, the latter issued from the house, and a combat followed, which was fatal to many of his attendants, and to himself. A rich prey was the reward of this fratricide; and Eric, exulting, returned to his northern kingdom. Seeing the odium in which the author of this deed, notwithstanding his influence over the now weak mind of Harald, was held by most of the Norwegians, Halfdan the Black made an attempt to assassinate the murderer, by setting fire to the country house in which he slept; but the dormitory was separated from the main building, and Eric escaped. To revenge this outrage on his darling son, Harald collected his troops, and marched against Halfdan; but the intervention of an aged jarl effected a reconciliation. That reconciliation, however, was not sincere, so far, at least, as Halfdan and Eric were concerned.[181]

[Sidenote: 910 to 913.]

For the doting attachment of Harald to the most bloody of his sons, no good reason has been or can be assigned. He was not the oldest son, nor was his mother, Ragnilda, the most beloved of the royal wives. Yet this paternal fondness did not screen the royal youth from the dangers of his profession. As early as his twelfth year, he is said to have become a piratical chief, and, with the five vessels which he had received from his father, to have ravaged all the maritime coasts of Europe from Russia to Ireland. On that of Finland he had, says the legend, a marvellous adventure, which, as it has been made the foundation of some tales popular in the middle ages, we shall abridge. While he and his companions were in the remotest part of that magic region, on the very borders of the still more wondrous Biarmia, they one day reached a cottage the mistress of which was a supernatural beauty. She told them that they were in great danger; that she had two lovers, the most able magicians of the country, who were also her instructors; that they could hunt the footsteps of man on snow or ice, with as much instinct as the blood-hound; that their arrows never missed aim; that they put all strangers to death; that, when angry, every living thing died beneath their glance, and the earth itself was affected. As they came daily to the hut, there seemed no hope of escape until she promised to conceal them, and to aid them in the destruction of her odious suitors. Having concealed them, she took a linen bag full of what they conceived to be ashes, and scattered the contents around the hut, both within and without. The Finns soon entered, and inquired what strangers had arrived; and on her replying that she had seen nobody, they expressed no little surprise: they had traced footsteps in the snow to the very door. However, they lighted a fire, cooked their provisions, and when satiated, Gunhilda prepared her own bed. There she lay down, but they would not. As they were rivals, both passionately in love, and each afraid that, while he slept, the other might obtain some advantage over the lady, they resolved to remain awake. During three successive nights this sleeping on her part, and watching on theirs, continued, until nature was exhausted. Gunhilda saw her time; she invited both to lie beside her; they joyfully obeyed her, and she put one arm around the neck of each. The effect—that of magic (for she had been trained in a good school), was instantaneous; both fell into a deep sleep, from which it was impossible to awake them. There she fettered them, and called on Eric and his companions to despatch them. The deed was easily perpetrated, and the corpses were cast outside of the hut: but it was followed by incessant thunder, which, during a whole night, prevented them from leaving the place. When serenity was restored, all left, Gunhilda with the rest; and before the day closed, the magic beauty became the bride of Eric.[182]

[Sidenote: 930 to 934.]

Fate had not yet done its worst on the offspring of the Norwegian monarch. His son Gudred perished at sea. And when he resigned his imperial dignity in favour of his beloved Eric, other tragedies might have been foreseen—if not in his lifetime, immediately after his death. The elevation of Eric was opposed, among others, by Halfdan the Black, who, also, assumed the title of monarch. Olaf, brother of the murdered Biorn, who had succeeded that prince in the government of Westfold, did the same. In two years Halfdan was removed by poison,—the deed, as was commonly reported, of Gunhilda. Harald was little moved by these atrocities. So long as his favourite son enjoyed life and empire, he cared little for the rest. But his own days were hastening to an end. When he resigned his sceptre to his son Eric, he was eighty years of age. In two or three years after that event,—in the year 934, or, according to others, 936—he paid the debt of nature. The place of his interment was one of his manors in Drontheim. Near the spot, a magnificent heathen temple was erected, which was standing in the days of Snorro.[183]

To dwell on the character of this monarch, after the ample relation which we have given of his deeds, would be useless. With the exception of his martial prowess, of his enterprising spirit, of his unwearied activity, we see little to praise in him. His numerous adulteries—his feebleness soon after he had passed the meridian of life—his blind policy—have not often been exceeded. Much praise has been lavished on him for his extirpation of piracy; but he is entitled to little. So long as his own shores were not visited by the marauders, he cared not what depredations were committed on others. His chiefs, his very sons, followed piracy as a profession, not merely with his sanction, but at his express command. He has been called the friend of the peasants, or rather of the humble allodial proprietors; but did not policy make him so? If they were plundered by those in authority, could they furnish the new contributions which, as the first of Norway’s feudal sovereigns, he exacted from them? Then, as to his boasted administration of the laws, nothing is more certain than their perpetual neglect: after he had passed his fortieth year, they were inoperative,—despised by his own sons, evaded by the jarls. Nor, however brilliant his conquests, can he be called the founder of the Norwegian monarchy. If he destroyed many tyrants, he replaced them by greater: if he united many independent states into one empire, by his own deliberate act he broke that empire into fragments, and restored the anarchy which he had laboured to destroy. Widely different is his character before and after he had attained the meridian of life. It seemed as if he were led by some evil spirit to undo, in the latter period, all that he had done in the former. But he had no comprehensive views, no sound policy: during the first half of his life he fought for ambition; during the latter, he was the tool of his wives, his sons, and his other favourites. On the whole, we are disposed to consider him as inferior to his father, Halfdan the Black.

[Sidenote: 934 to 936.]

Scarcely was _Eric_, who, from his sanguinary actions, was surnamed the Bloody Axe (Blodöxe), the nominal sovereign of Norway, when he called on his brothers to recognise his title, and pay him the tributes which they had paid to his father. Instead of complying, Olaf and Sigurd exacted the usual tributes in their respective kingdoms,—an undoubted act of sovereignty. To chastise their presumption, the indignant Eric equipped an armament, and hastened to Tunsberg, the seat of their domination: he was met by the two kings on the declivity of a hill near the city; but, his forces being much superior in number, they were defeated and slain. The same fate would have befallen Trygve, the son of Olaf, and Godred the son of the murdered Biorn,—both nephews of Eric,—had they not consulted their safety by repairing to the inaccessible fastnesses of the uplands. The tyrant was now hated more intensely than before, and a majority of the people began to look for a deliverer of the race of the Ynglings. But where could one be found, seeing that all Eric’s brothers had either paid the debt of nature, or perished untimely? There was one exception to this fate: Hako, the last of Harald’s sons, was still alive, and in England. From our own historians, no less than from Snorro, it is evident that friendly relations had always subsisted between Athelstane of England and Harald, and that presents had passed between them. One of them was a magnificent sword, which Athelstane sent to Harald; and Harald, in return, sent a magnificent ship, with his infant son Hako to be educated in the polite court of the Saxon. This simple narrative has been much embellished by Snorro. He informs us that when the ambassador delivered the splendid sword to Harald, and the monarch had seized the handle, the ambassador exclaimed, “Now art thou the liege man of our lord the king, in that thou hast received his sword!”—alluding to the most ordinary symbol of investiture. The proud Norwegian was exasperated; but, on reflection, he retaliated in a manner equally ingenious. Causing a magnificent ship to be prepared, he despatched in it his son Hako, under the care of a trusty chief. On reaching the court of Athelstane, he entered the palace, and laying the young child—then about seven years of age—on the knees of the king, said, “King Harald commands thee to educate his bastard!” The facts are as we have represented them on the authority of English contemporary writers,—facts which an ancient chronicler of Norway, Theodric, also admits. The writers of both countries agree that Athelstane nobly discharged the duty which he had undertaken. Hako was educated well, was of course baptized, and taught the truths of Christianity; and in the English king he found a counsellor, a friend, a father. He was about fourteen when he heard of Harald’s death, and of his brother Eric’s accession. The following year brought him so many reports of Eric’s cruelty, and of the desire of many Norwegians to rid themselves of the tyrant, that he began to regard the throne as his future inheritance. He had ambition; but in a virtuous mind, ambition, like every other feeling, may become an instrument of good. Hako longed to be a king,—not merely from the desire of power, but from a wish to benefit his countrymen, especially by diffusing among them the blessings of Christianity. When, therefore, many emissaries from Norway arrived at the English court, and besought him to rescue the country from the yoke, he readily obeyed the call. Being supplied with ships, men, money, by his generous friend, about two years after his father’s death, he sailed towards Norway.[184]

[Sidenote: 937 to 946.]

Hako landed at Drontheim, and the inhabitants here assembled in a _Thing_, or general meeting, when every free-born head of a family, who had land, was permitted to vote, or at least to sanction, by outward expressions of applause, the opinions of the chiefs. Though most of them were friendly to the royal youth, they dreaded the vindictive character of Eric. But in that meeting the cause of Hako was eloquently advocated by Sigurd, one of the most powerful jarls. And when Hako himself arose, so like his father was he, that a murmur of applause ran through the multitude. When he spoke, all were attentive; when he promised, on the condition of their making him king, to abolish the oppressive obligations of feudality, and restore the lands to their ancient allodial tenure, one universal shout proclaimed him king of Norway. The report spread through the kingdom that Harald was restored in his son, but that the son had not the worst quality of his father,—that of oppressing the people by feudal exactions. The joyful news that the allodial tenure was to be restored, spread, quick as lightning, over the country. From Drontheim, Hako proceeded into the uplands, where a Thing was assembled, and he was received in the same manner. Here he was joined by many chiefs; among others, by Drygve and Sigurd, on whom he conferred the regal title, with the government of Westfold to the latter, and Raumarik with Vingulmark to the former. This condition accompanied the investiture,—that half of their revenues should be paid into the treasury of Hako, the other half be retained by themselves. Those revenues, it was manifest, would be much less than they had been while every estate was a fief belonging to the crown: allodial property has always been lightly taxed. Hako now returned to Drontheim, to raise troops and prepare ships for a contest with his brother Eric, who was then in the province of Vikia. The case of the latter was evidently hopeless; though he called the people to his aid, few obeyed him; and the men who were with him at the time of Hako’s embarkation, left him, one by one, to swell the ranks of his rival. He had no hope of security, but in flight; and he repaired to the Orkneys. There collecting all the ships and all the men he could, he proceeded to the south, ravaging the Scottish coast as he passed along, until he arrived in Northumbria. This province had never been well affected to the Anglo-Saxon yoke, which, indeed, was a very recent one. It had been held for some time by Danish chiefs; half its population was Danish or Norwegian; and it had been the prey of the sea kings from the eighth to the tenth century. Athelstane thought that if Eric would become his vassal, embrace Christianity, and defend Northumbria against the pirates of the north, he would be a far more useful subject than any of the Saxon thanes. A messenger from the English king met the exiled monarch: the proposals of the former were eagerly embraced; Eric and his whole family were baptized; homage was done for the province; and York was chosen as the seat of the new government. But on the part of Athelstane this was an impolitic step. From common report he must surely have known something of Eric’s character,—that neither peace nor obedience could be expected from a turbulent, ambitious, cruel, and ungrateful man. During the reign of Athelstane, indeed, he committed no depredations on the English coast, but he ravaged those of Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, without intermission. The fame which he acquired in these expeditions brought many Norwegians, many Swedes, many Danes to his standard. During the reign of Edmund the Elder, he appears to have been absent from Northumbria; and so he was during the first year of Edred’s reign. He then returned, and laid waste the English coast. Edred marched against him, and compelled the Northumbrians to do homage to him instead of Eric. The latter collected new forces, and again contended for the kingdom; but he contended in vain; he was signally defeated, and, if Snorro be correct, slain on the battle field. But Matthew of Westminster asserts that, after his defeat, he was betrayed by one of his chiefs, and slain in the wilds of Yorkshire. However this be, from this time Northumbria became an English province: Eric, as the chronicler of Mailros observes, was its last king. The widow and sons of this exile being driven from Northumbria, took refuge in the Orkneys and Shetlands, where the latter resumed their piratical depredations wherever prey was to be found. Subsequently, as we shall perceive, they were entertained at the court of the Danish king. The character of Eric of the Bloody Axe needs no comment. He was a favourite with all pirates, and, for this very reason, with Odin himself.[185]

[Sidenote: 939 to 940.]

By the departure of Eric, _Hako_ was the sole monarch of Norway, though, as we have before related, he imprudently left the regal title to two princes of his family. His first hostilities were against the Danes, who infested his dominions, but whom he pursued into Jutland, and defeated a second time. But they came from Zealand and other islands of Denmark; and in Zealand he sought and extirpated them. Those of Gothland were next chastised by him. Harald Blaatand, the Danish king, offended with the presumption of Hako in thus entering his bays and destroying the vessels of his people, threatened revenge. To annoy his brother sovereign and fellow Christian, he received, with much ceremony, Gunhilda, the widow of Eric Blodöxe, and her children, and furnished them with ample means of support. The sons of Eric had been taught the profession of piracy; and on their settlement in Denmark, they built vessels, and committed frequent depredations on Vikia, one of the southern provinces of Norway. In return, the chiefs of Hako, especially king Trygve, desolated the coasts of Denmark. The Norwegian monarch was no less a warrior than his pagan ancestors; but though he thus violated the spirit, he was not insensible to the forms, of Christianity. One of his objects, as we have before observed, in striving for the Norwegian throne, was the diffusion of the Christian religion. He did not, however, for some years, openly interfere with that of his subjects. He had need of their aid; and he had no wish to estrange them by an ostentatious display of his own worship. For some years, therefore, he worshipped in silence. By degrees he drew his friends, his courtiers, to embrace the new faith. He next extended his favour to all who consented to be baptized. The number of converts increasing, he thought that he might now act more openly: he accordingly sent to England for a bishop and priests to become the harbingers of the new faith throughout Norway. On their arrival, he destroyed some of the heathen temples in Drontheim and the neighbouring districts. Many of the pagans showed a philosophical indifference to both religions: some, south of Drontheim, would do what the people of that city should do themselves; the majority were anxious to be guided by the decrees of a Thing. An assembly was therefore convoked in Drontheim; but the members being alarmed at the magnitude of the change proposed by the king, devolved the decision on a more general one, which should be convoked at Froste. It was evident that the zeal of Hako was impelling him too rapidly in the career of reformation.[186]

Amidst these transactions, Snorro gives us some interesting facts respecting the religious customs of the Northmen. When the public sacrifices were to be offered,—which, as we have before related, was obligatory three times in the year[187],—the whole of the neighbouring population hastened to the nearest temple, bearing provisions and mead. On these occasions, cattle of all kinds, and numerous horses, were sacrificed. The blood of the victims was called _klot_; the basins in which the blood was received, _klot-bollar_; and _klotteinar_ were the names of the instruments with which the blood was sprinkled over the altars, the pedestals, the walls of the temple within and without, the assembled multitude, and the provisions which were about to be eaten. In the centre of the temple was an open space where the fires were burning; and over them were suspended the cauldrons and pots destined to cook the sacrificial meats. The entertainment which followed was under the care of the sovereign; and it was his duty to consecrate the meats and cups before they were used by the people. The first cup was emptied to Odin for victory and prosperity in war; the second, to Niord and Freyr, for an abundant season and for peace; and when these were drunk, it was customary, in many places, to pour a libation from an overflowing horn, in memory of deceased heroes and kings. Then horns were emptied in memory of inferior personages,—of relatives and friends,—and these were called the _minne_, or smaller cups. To these sacrifices, and to the pagan rites in general, jarl Sigurd, who had done so much to procure the election of Hako, was much addicted. He was as zealous, says the historian, as Harald Harfager had ever been. And he was exceedingly liberal: in the absence of the king, when it was his duty to consecrate the food and drink, he often bore the whole of the expense,—no slight one, where so many hundreds of cattle had to be sacrificed, and so many thousands of people entertained. Hence his fame was much diffused; and as he was Hako’s uncle by the mother’s side, he had considerable weight in the royal councils.[188]

[Sidenote: 941.]

On the day appointed, the national Thing was assembled; and Hako, after proposing a body of laws which were readily adopted, and to which we shall advert in a future chapter[189], openly adverted to the all-important subject. He besought the whole multitude, rich and poor, noble and serf, young and old, the happy and the wretched, to embrace Christianity,—to acknowledge one only God, and Jesus, the son of Mary, as his son and equal. He implored them to abandon the rites of heathenism,—to refrain from labour every seventh day, and observe it as a festival,—and to fast another day in the seven. At these words a murmur went through the multitude,—all freemen, be it remembered, all proprietors of slaves, all landowners. Were two days out of the seven to be thus lost?—for who could work on a _fast_-day? If this novelty were adopted, assuredly the ground could not be cultivated, nor could there be a sufficiency of food for the people. A rich and popular landowner of Gaulandal, the oracle of the assembled multitude, then arose. “When thou, O king, wast first elected by us in the public assembly of Drontheim, and didst restore to us the lands of our forefathers, we all thought that the highest happiness was to be our lot. But now we are in the greatest uncertainty whether thou hast really made us free, or art preparing for us a new slavery, by this strange proposal that we should abandon the religion of all our fathers—men far more excellent than we—a religion which has always been advantageous to Norway. Through the great love which we bore thee, we conferred on thee the privilege of introducing new laws. The code of laws which thou hast this day proposed, and which we have promised to maintain, we shall all of us inviolably maintain. All of us will follow thee as our leader, and honour thee as our king,—while any one of us shall live,—so that thou wilt proceed moderately, and ask not from our love what we cannot lawfully grant. But if, as now seems to be the case, thou not only requirest this change from us, but art preparing to force our inclinations to it, know that we have all determined to abandon thee, and to choose another king, under whose sway we may be permitted to observe a religion so dear to our hearts.” The good sense of this reply might have been despised by Hako; but the menace was to be regarded, when it was received with applause by the assembled multitude. This was a critical moment, and Sigurd, whose authority, alike from his dignity and character, was so great, now came forward. As soon as the tumult had subsided, he assured them that the king wished what they wished, and that the good understanding between them would never be destroyed. The people replied,—“Then let king Hako do as his father did,—offer sacrifices to the gods for abundance and peace!” When the assembly was dissolved, Sigurd besought the king to reserve his intention of proselyting for more suitable times, and, above all, not to incense nobles and people by refusing some show of compliance with what all had demanded.[190]

[Sidenote: 942 to 956.]

The proceedings which we are now relating doubtless occupied many years, though, by most historians, they have been crowded into three or four. We are told that the above assembly, in which the laws of Hako were passed, was held in 941; and we know that, in 956, he was still labouring for the introduction of the new faith. Hako, though he saw the prudence of complying with Sigurd’s advice, was loth to follow it; probably he hoped to discover some way of evading even the slightest homage to the old faith. At the sacrificial time, however, he was compelled to go to the temple; nor could he avoid sitting on the throne, as president of the ceremonies. The office of high-priest was performed by Sigurd, who, after filling the cup, delivered it to the king for consecration to Odin. As Hako received it, he drew upon it the sign of the cross,—a thing never seen before, and highly disagreeable to all present. “How is this?” cried a chief; “does the king refuse to consecrate, and sacrifice to the gods?” A tumult arose; but it was allayed by the philosophic Sigurd, who observed that Hako had consecrated to Thor, by making on the cup the sign of that deity’s mallet. The following day he was present at the festival. The people insisted that he should taste of the horse-flesh,—he refused; that he should drink from the consecrated cup,—still he refused; that, at least, he should taste the gravy which flowed from the roasted meats,—he hesitated. The temple was in an uproar; and violent hands were about to be laid on him, when Sigurd interfered, and said that the king would do what was amply sufficient to satisfy the gods,—he would hold his head over the caldron, the handle of which he would touch with his lips, and inhale the fumes arising from it. Accordingly, the monarch approached the caldron, and was observed to cover the handle with linen before the application of his lips; he then inhaled the odour, and returned to his seat gloomy and discontented, but not more so than many of the spectators. The following year, when the yule festival, the most important of all, was to be celebrated, and the people of Drontheim were assembled together, with eight of the princely pontiffs, Hako could not avoid attending. These had agreed, not only that they would pluck up by the roots what little Christianity had yet been planted in Norway, but that they would force the monarch to sacrifice with them. In conformity with this resolution, they had destroyed three Christian churches, and killed three priests. On the first day of the sacrifices, which were celebrated in the great temple of Moria, Hako was peremptorily required to join in the rites. By the authority of Sigurd, the demand was so far modified that, if he would eat of the horse-flesh, and consecrate all the horns presented to him, he would satisfy the audience. He did so; nor did he, as before, make the hated sign of the cross, in offering the mead to the gods. This was guilty condescension, and he felt it: he felt, too, that he had done wrong to be present; and his anger was excited against both Sigurd and the whole pagan population of Drontheim. He vowed to be revenged,—to fall on the inhabitants with an armed force, as soon as spring appeared.[191]

[Sidenote: 956 to 958.]

When Hako was preparing to put his menace into execution, intelligence reached him that the sons of his brother Eric had descended on the coast of Vikia, defeated king Trygve, and were laying waste the whole province, which they were likely to subdue. To oppose the common enemy was now his object, and that of his chiefs. Even the eight pontiffs, who had been so deeply offended with his contempt of their religion, joined him: they preferred the yoke of a mild Christian to that of cruel pagans, as the sons of Eric were known to be. All hastened to the southern coast, disembarked, and joined in the battle. It was hardly contested; but, in the end, victory declared for Hako: with Guthrum, the eldest of those princes, he fought hand to hand, and killed his antagonist. Many fell; the rest hastened to their ships, and took refuge in Denmark, where they were sure of a favourable reception from Harald Blaatand. They were pursued, indeed, by the victor; but they had the advantage in celerity. In consequence of this invasion, which would, probably, be repeated, Hako revived an ancient law for the protection of his coasts,—a law once general in the north, and adopted by our Saxon kings. It divided the kingdom into maritime districts, each extending from the sea-shore as far as the rivers could boast of salmon; and each compelled to furnish a certain number of vessels and men in proportion to its extent. In each district, these ships were always to be so far ready, that, when an enemy appeared within sight, they should, before he could reach the coast, be prepared to receive him. That the alarm might be communicated from one district to another, huge trunks of trees were placed on the summits of the mountains, and formed into piles, so as to be converted into huge watch-fires whenever the occasion demanded. They extended from the extreme angle of the south, to the remotest elevation of the north. Yet these wise precautions were of no avail when the sons of Eric, at the head of a powerful Danish armament, and of such piratical vessels as they had been able to engage, next appeared off the southern coast. The watch-fires were not lighted; and the progress of the hostile fleet was unknown to the king until it was near at hand. The cause of this negligence is very imperfectly explained. Snorro says that the signal fires were always to begin in the east,—as if pirates could not land in the west or north!—and run in a line to the extreme south, then northwards, to the extremity of Norway. He adds that, as the watchmen who should give a false alarm would be severely punished, they were loth to light these beacons until they were sure of an enemy’s presence. Probably the ships stood out too far from the coast to be descried by the naked eye; perhaps some of the pagan sentinels were more inclined to the restoration of Eric’s sons than to the sway of a Christian prince; perhaps, too, there was bribery. Great was the astonishment, greater still the dread, of king and people, when the armament anchored in Ulfasund. Both were unprepared; and the first idea of Hako was to retire into the north until he could be joined by vessels and men sufficient to resist the invaders: but one of his officers, who had often fought with king Harald, dissuaded him from this prudent step. The king’s father, he observed, had never considered the number of the enemy; he had fought with many and with few, yet, on all occasions, had won the battle. This was imprudent advice; for though, in the present case, Hako, being unexpectedly joined by a considerable force, defeated the enemy, and slew one of Eric’s sons, the adventure was a rash one, was purchased with much loss, and might have ended fatally. That similar negligence did lead to a fatal result, will soon be apparent to the reader.[192]

[Sidenote: 958 to 963.]

That, on two successive occasions, the same negligence should be shown by the watchmen, and the same imprudent advice followed by the king, may induce, in the reader’s mind, a suspicion that Snorro has confounded the two. Hako was quietly seated at table, in one of his manor houses in the little island of Stord, off the coast of Hardaland, when a domestic entered to say that many vessels, which had a suspicious look, were in sight. The king and his guests, rushing out of the house, were satisfied that a hostile armament was actually approaching. It was led by Harald, who, since the death of his brother, was the eldest of Eric’s surviving sons. Hako, and the chiefs who happened to be with him, hastily collected all the men in the neighbourhood and advanced to repel the invaders. The battle engaged, and was, as before, desperately disputed. Hako performed his duty nobly: two champions of the enemy were soon laid at his feet; and the pirates were again put to flight, but not until Hako had received a mortal wound. He was carried on board a vessel, because he wished to be taken to one of his manors in the north; but the blood, which no art could stop, flowed so plentifully, that his cure was not expected. On reaching the manor he loved,—that in which he had been born,—he called his friends around him, and acquainted them with his last wishes. As he had only a daughter, Thora, he declared the sons of Eric his heirs; and despatched a messenger, both to acquaint them with this news, and to request that they would be merciful to his adherents,—to all, especially, who were bound to him by the ties of consanguinity. “Should my life be spared,” he added, “I will leave my throne and country, embrace the monastic life, and endeavour to atone for my numerous offences against God. If, as I feel, I shall die among pagans, bury me in whatever manner you please.” Soon afterwards, he breathed his last.[193]

From the tranquillity which Hako enjoyed in regard to his subjects during the last years of his life, we may infer that he had abandoned the hope of converting his people. It has been affirmed that he became at least half a pagan. This statement is abundantly confirmed by his dying words; by the fact that he was buried according to heathen rites; and by the universal belief that his soul ascended to the hall of Odin. On this subject we have the confirmation of a pagan bard, who describes the joy of the warrior god and his chiefs at the arrival of the Norwegian monarch.[194] It was, probably, as much for his religious indifference in the last years of his life, as from any other reason, that he was thus honoured. Yet all Norway bewailed him; whatever his faith, his virtues could not be mistaken; and the epithet which he so well deserved—that of Hako the Good—rendered his memory dear to his country. During his reign it enjoyed extraordinary abundance; robberies and violence were suppressed; the laws which he found in use he caused to be administered with vigour; and the new ones which he promulgated, and to which we shall advert in the proper place,[195] show that he was far superior to his predecessors in his care of the internal tranquillity.[196]

[Sidenote: 963 to 969.]

_Harald_, surnamed _Graefeld_ or Grey-mantle, the eldest son of Eric and Gunhilda, was now declared monarch of Norway. But the title had in it more of pomp than of real power. In the first place, his two brothers had also the regal title, and were placed over the central provinces of Norway. Then the eastern provinces were subject to the kings whom Hako the Good had placed over them; namely, Trygve, the son of Olaf; and Gudred, the son of Biorn. Nor was this all; for so popular was jarl Sigurd with the inhabitants of Drontheim, that they awarded him the privileges, though not the title, of king. Here, then, were five chiefs invested with the regal functions, and independent of one another; and, with the exception of occasional tributes, of Harald himself. This division of power could not be pleasing to Harald, who hoped one day to unite the scattered fragments of the monarchy; but for some time he was compelled to act with great caution. He acknowledged the authority of the three kings who were not his brothers, on the condition of their holding from him as they had formerly held from Hako the Good. But if even he had been sincere in these steps, the ambition of his mother, who shared in the councils of all her sons, would have led him to retrace it. She often represented to them that they had the title but not the power of kings; that if Trygve and Olaf enjoyed their kingdoms by hereditary claim, surely Sigurd, who was only a jarl, had none, and that to remove him would be an act of good policy. Harald replied that to remove so popular a chief “was not quite so easy as to kill a calf or a kid.” There were other ways, she rejoined, of effecting this object, than by open force. Sigurd had a brother who had not been raised to either wealth or consideration,—probably because he was unworthy of either,—and he was easily induced, by the promises of the king and of Gunhilda, to enter into a plot against the life of Sigurd. To throw the intended victim off his guard, extraordinary professions of friendship and splendid presents were transmitted to him by Harald. His motions were closely watched; and one night, while at one of his rural manors, with fewer attendants than ordinary, he perished in the flames of his own house. But the royal assassins reaped no advantage from this crime; for the inhabitants of Drontheim elected Hako, son of the deceased jarl, to the vacant dignity; and Harald, himself, was compelled to sanction the election. To fortify himself against the vengeance of the reigning family, Hako entered into a secret alliance with the two kings of the south, Trygve and Gudred. It did not escape the penetration of Gunhilda, who again entered into a secret conclave with her sons. The result was soon apparent. The royal brothers proclaimed their intention of undertaking a piratical cruise in the Baltic; and for this purpose, hastening towards the southern boundary of Norway, one of them invited king Trygve to join him. The latter accepted the proposal; but in hastening to an interview appointed by one of the brothers, he and twelve of his companions fell beneath the hands of a much superior band. While this deed was perpetrating, Harald, himself, disembarked; and hearing that Gudred was holding a feast at a house not far from the city, he hastened thither, surrounded the house, and destroyed both Gudred and his companions. The fruit of both deeds was the annexation of these provinces to the domains of the sons of Eric. But their vengeance was not complete; for Harald, surnamed Grenske, the son of Gudred, escaped first to the uplands, and when his life was not safe there, into Sweden, where he became a famous pirate.[197]

[Sidenote: 969 to 977.]

No sooner were these crimes perpetrated, than the sons of Eric proceeded towards the north, with the avowed purpose of destroying Hako. Knowing the inferiority of his numbers, he betook himself to the piratical life, but not until he had devastated the central provinces subject to the sons of Eric. After his departure Drontheim submitted to them; but small was the advantage which they derived from this event. The next summer Hako returned; and though he was frequently absent on piratical expeditions into the Baltic, in winter he always commanded at Drontheim. Many were his conflicts with the forces of Harald; and, though sometimes defeated, he had always a sure resource either in the support of the inhabitants of Drontheim, or in his own ships. The sons of Eric were not popular: one of them, soon after the departure of Hako, dishonoured the bed of a noble chief, and was killed for the crime. Throughout the annals of this bloody period, we perceive the hand of retributive justice: the man who had exercised violence became its victim. Thus the treacherous brother of Sigurd, the man who had betrayed that respected chief into the hands of his murderers, was slain in battle by the hands of Hako his nephew. Thus died Erling, another of Eric’s sons. He was followed by his lustful brother: the inhabitants of Drontheim, which during one of the frequent expeditions of Hako he had seized, being unable to support his rapacity, rose against him, and sacrificed him to their just resentment. The fate of Harald, himself, was not distant. Though, by the destruction of two kings, the expulsion of Hako, and the death of most of his brothers, he was, nominally, monarch of Norway, he was unpopular. Nor was the absent Hako negligent in creating him many troubles from without. On Norway, ever since the days of Ragnar Lodbrog, the Danish kings had cast a longing eye; they considered it, no less than Sweden, as a portion of their vast inheritance; and Hako had little difficulty in persuading Harald Blaatand to aspire to the throne of that kingdom. As the equipment of a naval force would be expensive, and might be useless, it was resolved to entice Harald of Norway into Jutland, under the pretext of doing homage to Blaatand for the fiefs which he had formerly possessed in Denmark, and which were now to be restored to him. Harald, credulous enough to believe the invitation sincere, repaired to Jutland, and was soon compelled to fight with the superior numbers of a chief who had been secretly instigated to assail him. In that battle he fell, fifteen years after the death of Hako the Good, and thirteen from that of jarl Sigurd.[198]

[Sidenote: 977 to 978.]

After this event, Hako and the Danish king, who knew the advantages which they expected could be gained only by celerity, sailed with a powerful armament for Norway. Many were the exiles who accompanied them, and whom the cruelty of Gunhilda and her sons had forced to abandon their homes. Among them was Harald Grenske, the son of king Gudred who had been so treacherously slain by the Norwegian brothers. On reaching Tunsberg, the Danish king was joined by multitudes of the inhabitants, of whom all were dissatisfied with the sons of Eric. The first care of Harald was to reward his counsellor and friend, Hako, whom he placed over seven provinces in the west and centre of the kingdom, all to be held feudally, as they had been held by the jarls of Harald Harfager. There was, however, this distinction in favour of Hako, that if the necessities of the public service should require it,—if, for instance, the territory should be invaded by an enemy,—he was at liberty to employ all its revenues for its defence. Harald Grenske, being of the royal blood of Norway, then eighteen years of age, received the title of king, and with it Westfold, Vingulmark, and part of Ayder. The rest of the kingdom was confided to Sweyn, son of the Danish monarch, as the viceroy of his father, who was hailed as the lord paramount of the whole. Gunhilda, with her two surviving sons, fled to the Orkneys, and Harald of Denmark retired to his own capital.[199]

[Sidenote: 978 to 988.]