By his daring intrigue Earl Haakon had attained the goal of his desires. He had avenged his father's death, humiliated his enemies, and gained a power far beyond that of any of his ancestors. With a nature like his, however, no goal is final. The ease with which he had managed Harold Bluetooth and his nephew—using them as tools for his own ends—had, no doubt, inspired him with a supreme confidence in his ability, and a corresponding contempt of those whose shrewdness was inferior to his own. The purpose therefore soon matured in his mind to repudiate his obligations to the Danish king, and make himself the independent ruler of Norway. The opportunity for carrying this purpose into effect soon presented itself. The Emperor Otto I. of Germany, who claimed sovereignty over Denmark, died in 973, and was succeeded by his young son, Otto II. Harold Bluetooth, who had always resented the emperor's claim, even though he was forced to recognize it, made extensive preparations for a campaign against Otto II., and sent messengers to his vassal, Earl Haakon, commanding him to come to his aid with all the forces at his disposal. Earl Haakon, whatever his inclinations may have been, did not deem it advisable to disobey, and in the spring of the year 975 sailed southward with a large fleet and army. He did duty for a while in defending the wall of Dannevirke, and actually beat the emperor in a great battle. Then, feeling that his task had been accomplished, he boarded his ships and prepared to sail homeward. The emperor, however, hearing that Dannevirke was deserted by its defenders, returned for a second attack, and forced his way into Jutland. Whether Harold Bluetooth fought with him does not appear. We only know that he accepted a humiliating peace, reaffirming his vassalage, and, according to a creditable source, promising to introduce the Christian religion, both in his own kingdom and in Norway. It is probable that both Harold and his son, Sweyn Forkbeard, had been baptized before, but continued in their hearts to be devoted to the Asa faith. It was scarcely zeal for Christianity, but fear of the emperor, which induced Harold to send for Earl Haakon and force him to accept baptism and to promise to convert his countrymen to the new religion. It is strange that a man as shrewd as Haakon, after his recent desertion of Dannevirke, should have obeyed this summons. In all likelihood the victorious battle which he had fought gave him confidence in his power to justify himself; and there may also have been circumstances connected with the affair which changed its aspect to contemporaries. It is not inconceivable, however, that he really wished for a plausible pretext for rebellion, and deliberately took his chances.

With a ship-load of priests Haakon departed from this fateful meeting with the Danish king. But no sooner was he out of Harold's sight, than he put his priests ashore, and began to harry on both sides of the Sound. On the rocky cliffs of Gautland he made a grand sacrificial feast, to counteract the effect of his recent baptism, and stood watching for a response from the old gods, that they looked upon him with favor, and would give him success in the war he was about to undertake. Then two ravens came and followed his ships, "clucking" loudly. The ravens were the birds of Odin, and Haakon saw in their flight a happy augury. A warlike fury seems now to have possessed him. With a recklessness which in so prudent a man is inconceivable (except under high religious excitement), he burned his ships, landed with his army on the coast of Sweden, and marched northward, ravaging the land with fire and sword. A broad track of blood and desolation followed his destructive progress. Even in the Norwegian province Viken, which Harold Bluetooth had given to Sweyn Forkbeard, he continued his devastations in pure wantonness, as if to advertise his defiance of the Danish king and all that belonged to him. From Viken he took his way overland to Drontheim, where he henceforth lived as an independent sovereign; though for some reason he refrained from assuming the royal title.

It was probably some time before Harold Bluetooth could raise an army strong enough to pursue the earl and defeat him in his own stronghold. There is some doubt, however, whether his campaign to Norway, for the purpose of punishing his rebellious vassal, took place in 976 or two or three years later. Following Haakon's example, he laid the land waste, killing and burning every thing in his path. In Laerdal in Sogn, he left only five houses unburned. When, however, Earl Haakon sailed southward to meet him with a numerous fleet, the king suddenly lost his courage, set sail, and made for home. It is said that Harold Bluetooth had on that occasion no less than twelve hundred ships.

Earl Haakon had now peace for some years. He had, as soon as he had conquered the sons of Gunhild, married the beautiful Thora, daughter of the powerful chieftain Skage Skoftesson: and had by her two sons, Sweyn and Heming, and a daughter, Bergljot. Considerably older than these children, was the earl's illegitimate son, Erik, who, according to one account, was born when his father was but fifteen years old. There is, however, good reason for questioning this statement. Erik was a stubborn and turbulent youth, who could not be induced to respect the authority of his father. When he was ten or eleven years old, he got into a dispute with Haakon's brother-in-law Tiding-Skofte, about the right to anchor his ship next to the earl's. Tiding-Skofte, who was a great favorite of the earl's, had been especially granted this privilege and was inclined to insist upon it. To avenge this insult Erik watched his chance and slew him a year later. He thereby incurred the hostility of his father, and fled to Viken, where Sweyn Forkbeard gave him a cordial reception.

It was scarcely to be expected that Harold Bluetooth should quietly accept the humiliation which Earl Haakon had put upon him. He was, indeed, getting too old himself to measure strength again with his powerful antagonist; and he therefore delegated the task of punishing him to his friends and allies. Among the latter were the celebrated Jomsvikings, who lived at Jomsborg, on the island of Wollin, at the mouth of the river Oder. These vikings were a well-disciplined company of pirates, who made war their exclusive business, living by rapine and plunder. They were bound by very strict laws to obey their chief, to spurn death and danger, to aid each other, and to endure pain uncomplainingly. Like the Italian condottieri, they were willing to serve any master with whom their chief could make satisfactory arrangements. For women they professed contempt, and no woman was permitted to enter their burgh. These formidable marauders Harold Bluetooth endeavored to stir up against his rebellious vassal. At a funeral feast which their chief, Earl Sigvalde, made in honor of his father, a great throng of warriors were present; the ale and mead flowed abundantly, and there was much good cheer in the hall. When Earl Sigvalde rose to drink the toast to Brage, he vowed that before three winters were past he would kill Earl Haakon or expel him from his realm, or himself die in the attempt. The other vikings, not wishing to be outdone by their chief, made vows scarcely less daring; and the enthusiasm rose to such a pitch that no achievement seemed beyond their strength. When they woke up the next morning, the affair wore a slightly different aspect; but having once promised, they could not retreat. So they made a virtue of necessity, and prepared in haste for the attack. The rumor of their vows had, however, preceded them, and reached Erik, the son of Earl Haakon. Disregarding his father's hostility, he hurried northward to Drontheim with all the men he could gather, and placed them at the disposal of the earl. The Jomsvikings, in the meanwhile, occupied themselves in plundering the coasts of Norway, sailing slowly northward with a well-manned fleet of sixty ships. The number of their warriors was between seven and eight thousand. They met Earl Haakon and his sons Erik, Sweyn, Sigurd, and Erling at HjÖrungavaag in SÖndmÖre. The earl had one hundred and eighty ships, the majority of which were inferior in size and equipment to those of his enemies; and according to a probable calculation, his force amounted to ten or eleven thousand men. So many men and ships had scarcely ever before been seen together in the North, and the sagas relate that the fight in HjÖrungavaag (986) was the greatest battle that has ever been fought in Norway.

As Earl Haakon saw the first of the Jomsvikings sailing up the sound, he disposed his own ships in battle-array. He gave his oldest son Erik command of the right wing, placed Sweyn on the left, and himself commanded the centre. Opposite to Sweyn were the ships of the famous Jomsviking Vagn Aakesson, whose impetuosity and daring had made him dreaded far and wide. The young Earl Sweyn was no match for such an antagonist, and after a gallant resistance he began to retreat. His brother Erik, seeing the imminent danger, rowed around to his wing, drove Vagn back, and forced his brother to resume his position. Then he hastened back to his own wing, and came just in time to check the progress of Bue the Big (Digre), who commanded the corresponding wing of the Jomsvikings. The battle now grew furious, and the carnage on both sides was tremendous. The spears and arrows fell in rattling showers about Earl Haakon, as he stood in the prow of his ship, and so many hit him that his shirt of mail was torn into strips, and he was forced to throw it away. The ships of the vikings were higher than those of the Norsemen, and the advantage which this afforded the former told at first heavily against the latter. Then, it is told, Earl Haakon suddenly disappeared, and the legend relates that he took his youngest son Erling, went ashore with him, and sacrificed him to the gods for victory. Instantly the skies grew black, and a violent hail-storm beat down, pelting the faces of the Jomsvikings and almost blinding them. Every grain of hail, says the saga, weighed two ounces. Some even declared that they saw the maidens of Odin, the Valkyrias, Thorgerd and Irp, standing in the prow of Earl Haakon's ship, sending forth a deadlier hail of unerring arrows. The Jomsvikings fought half blindly, fell on the slippery decks in a slush of blood and melting hail, but in spite of the twilight and confusion yet held their own. Then suddenly their chief, Earl Sigvalde, turned and fled. Vagn Aakesson, who saw him, cried out in a frenzy of rage: "Why dost thou flee, thou evil hound, and leave thy men in the lurch? That shame shall cling to thee all thy days." Earl Sigvalde made no reply; and it was well for him that he did not; for in the same instant a spear was hurled forth from Vagn's hand, transfixing the man at the helm. A moment before Vagn had seen his chieftain there, and it was for him the spear was intended. Confusion now became general; and all Earl Sigvalde's men, seeing that his standard was gone, fell out of line and fled. At last only Vagn Aakesson and Bue the Big were left. Earl Haakon pulled up alongside the ship of the latter and a combat ensued, which, in wildness and fury, has scarcely a parallel in the records of the sagas. Two great champions of the Jomsvikings, Haavard the Hewer (Huggende) and Aslak Rock-skull (Holmskalle), vaulted over the gunwale of the earl's ship and made tremendous havoc, until an Icelander seized an anvil which was used for sharpening the weapons and dashed it against Aslak's head, splitting his skull. Haavard had both his feet cut off, but fought on furiously, standing on his knees. The spears whizzed about the earl's ears and the arrows flew past him with their angry twang. His men fell and the Jomsvikings were pressing forward. Then, in the nick of time, came his son Erik, and, with a throng of his men, boarded the galley of Bue the Big. In their first onset Bue received a terrible cut across the nose. "Now," he cried, "I fear the Danish maidens will no more kiss me." Then, seeing that resistance was vain, he seized two chests full of gold and shouted: "Overboard all Bue's men," and leaped into the sea. Vagn Aakesson's galley was likewise boarded, and there was a repetition of former scenes of carnage. When all but thirty of his men were dead he at last surrendered. The captives were brought ashore and ordered to sit down in a row upon a long log. Their feet were tied together with a rope, while their hands remained free. One of Earl Erik's men, Thorkell Leira, whom Vagn at that memorable funeral feast had promised to kill, was granted the privilege to reciprocate the intended favor toward Vagn. With his axe uplifted he rushed at the captives, and, beginning at one end of the log, struck off one head after another. He meant to keep Vagn until the last, in order to increase his agony. But Vagn sat chatting merrily with his men; and there was much joking and laughter.

"We have often disputed," said one, "as to whether a man knows of any thing when his head is off. That we can now test, for if I am conscious, after having lost my head, I will stick my knife into the earth."

When his turn came all sat watching with interest. But his knife fell from his nerveless grasp, and there was no trace of consciousness. One of the vikings on the log seemed particularly in excellent spirits. He laughed and sang, as he saw the bloody heads of his comrades rolling about his feet. Just at that moment Earl Erik approached and asked him if he would like to live.

"That depends," answered the viking, "upon who it is who offers me life."

"He offers who has the power to do it," said the earl; "Earl Erik himself."

"Then I gladly accept," the viking replied.

The next in order, as the executioner walked up to him, made an equivocal pun, which, however, pleased Earl Erik so well that he set him free. Eighteen had now been beheaded and two pardoned. The twenty-first was a very young man with long, beautiful hair and a handsome countenance. As Thorkell Leira paused before him he twisted his hair into a coil and begged him not to soil it with his blood. In order to humor him, Thorkell told one of the bystanders to take hold of the coil while he struck off the head. The man consented; but just as the axe was descending, the Jomsviking pulled his head violently back, and the obliging assistant had both his hands cut off.

"Some of the Jomsvikings are alive yet," he cried, as he raised his head laughing.

Earl Erik, who had witnessed this scene, asked him his name.

"I am said to be a son of Bue," he answered.

"Very likely is that," said the earl; "do you wish to live?"

"What other choice have I?" asked the young viking.

When Thorkell Leira observed that Earl Erik was in a forgiving mood, he grew very wroth. Fearing that he might be thwarted in his vengeance on Vagn Aakesson, he sprang past the remaining men and, with his axe raised above his head, rushed toward his enemy. One of the men on the log, however, seeing his chief's danger, flung himself forward so that Thorkell stumbled over his body and dropped his axe. Instantly Vagn was on his feet, seized the axe and dealt Thorkell such a blow that the axe went through the neck, and the blade was buried in the earth. Thus Vagn Aakesson was the only one of the Jomsvikings who accomplished what he had vowed to do. Earl Erik, full of admiration of his feat, now had his bonds removed and gave him his liberty. The other prisoners who were yet alive were also set free at the earl's command.

Not far from the spot where this occurred sat Earl Haakon with many of his chieftains. Suddenly the loud twang of a bow-string was heard, and in the same instant Gissur the White, from Valders, who sat next to the earl and was more magnificently dressed than he, fell dead, pierced by an arrow. Many men hastened down to the ship whence the arrow had come, and found Haavard the Hewer, who, half dazed with loss of blood, stood on his knees with his bow in his hands. "Tell me, lads," he said, "did any one fall over there at the tree?"

He was told that Gissur the White had fallen.

"Then I was not so much in luck as I had hoped," he remarked; "for that arrow was meant for the earl."

It was plain that the favorable result of this great battle was due chiefly to the intrepidity and circumspection of Earl Erik. His father would perhaps have recognized this fact, if the son had not apparently superseded his authority in sparing the life of so important a man as Vagn Aakesson without consultation with the commander-in-chief. He did not, however, venture to disregard Earl Erik's pardon, but loudly expressed his discontent, and parted from his son in anger. Vagn followed his rescuer southward, and became his familiar friend and companion.

Earl Haakon's power was now so well confirmed that no one ventured to dispute his supremacy. Crops and fisheries were good. The people enjoyed many years of peace and contentment. The earls of the Orkneys paid Haakon tribute, as if he had been a king, and a king he was in every thing except the name. His family had always been associated with the ancient temple and earldom of Hlade; and it was a matter of pride with him to retain his ancestral dignity. This is significant when we consider how he was in all things a man of the old dispensation. At a time when heathenism was slowly crumbling away, and the faith in the old gods was losing its hold upon the upper classes, Haakon was a devout and sincere heathen. The continual intercourse of Norway with England and the lands of the South had half imperceptibly weakened the old superstitions and made the legends of Odin and Thor appear to many like nursery tales which grown-up men could scarcely be expected to believe. Repudiation of all supernaturalism and a proud reliance upon his own good sword was at this time characteristic of the Norse viking, who prided himself upon his knowledge of the world and his deeds in distant lands. For all that the Asa faith as later events will prove, had yet a sufficient number of sincere believers to make the progress of the new faith slow and sanguinary. Nevertheless so atrocious an act as the sacrifice of one's own child could not have failed to arouse indignation even among the worshippers of Odin and Thor. Such horrors were tolerated far back in the gloom of primeval antiquity, but must have been felt in the tenth century as a hideous anachronism. How much Earl Haakon's heathen fanaticism contributed to his downfall is difficult to determine. The sacrifice of Erling during the battle with the Jomsvikings, though it was generally regarded as a fact, was not the original cause of the rebellion which cost the earl his throne and his life. The vices by which he forfeited his early popularity were of a kind which assert their sway over men, irrespective of religions.

In the year 995 Earl Haakon was travelling in Gauldale, collecting taxes. His son Erlend, of whom he was very fond, lay with some ships out in the fiord, waiting to receive the treasure. One evening the earl sent a company of thralls to the house of the powerful peasant Brynjulf, commanding him to send him his wife, who was renowned for her beauty. Brynjulf refused, and the earl in great anger sent the thralls back with this message to the indignant husband, that he had the choice between death and the surrender of his wife. The peasant was obliged to yield, and with a heavy heart let his wife depart with the thralls. But no sooner was she gone than he recovered his manhood and swore vengeance. He summoned the inhabitants of the valley from far and near, and told them of the shame the earl had put upon him. All promised him their help, and resolved to hold themselves in readiness, awaiting the first opportunity for attacking the daring profligate. The earl, in the meanwhile, being quite ignorant of their designs, played into their hands. Very soon after his adventure with Brynjulf's wife, he sent a message of similar purport to Orm Lyrgja, whose wife Gudrun, on account of her beauty, was surnamed "Lundarsol" (the Sun of Lunde).[A] Orm, who was a man of great authority in his valley, sent word to all his neighbors, and after having feasted the earl's thralls, in order to detain them, refused to comply with their demand. Gudrun, who saw them depart, cried jeeringly after them: "Give the earl my greeting, and tell him that I will not go to him unless he sends Thora of Rimul to fetch me." Thora of Rimul was one of the earl's mistresses, whom his favor had made rich and powerful.

War-summons was now sent from farm to farm and a great band of armed peasants came together, and marched toward Medalhus where Haakon was staying. He sent in haste a message to his son Erlend, to meet him at MÖre, whither he intended to go, as soon as the army of the peasants had dispersed. Then his time for vengeance would be at hand. In the meanwhile he would be obliged to dismiss his men and hide, until the excitement should have subsided. With a single thrall named Kark, whom he had received as tooth-gift[A] and who had been his playmate in his boyhood, he fled across the Gaul river, rode his horse into a hole, and left his cloak upon the ice, in order that his pursuers might believe that he had been drowned. Then he hastened to his mistress, Thora of Rimul, who hid him and the thrall in a deep ditch under her pigsty. Food, candles, and bedclothes, were given them, whereupon the ditch was covered with boards and earth, and the pigs were driven out over it. As it happened, Olaf Tryggvesson, whose young life Queen Gunhild had vainly endeavored to destroy, had just then landed in TrÖndelag and had slain the earl's son Erlend. The peasants, hearing that he was of the race of Harold the Fairhaired, received him with delight and accompanied him to Rimul, where they thought it likely that the earl must be hidden.

After a vain search Olaf called them together, and mounting a big stone, close to the pigsty, declared in a loud voice that he would give a great reward to him who would find the earl and slay him.

In his damp and malodorous hiding-place the earl sat, gazing anxiously at his thrall. Every word of Olaf's speech he could plainly hear, and by the light of the candle which stood on the earth between them, he saw that Kark, too, was eagerly listening.

"Why art thou now so pale?" asked the earl, "and now again as black as earth. Is it not because thou wilt betray me?"

"No," replied Kark.

"We were both born in the same night," said the earl, after a pause; "and our deaths will not be far apart."

They sat for a long time in shuddering silence, each distrusting the other. From the stillness above they concluded that night was approaching; but neither dared to sleep. At last Kark's weariness overpowered him; but he tossed and mumbled excitedly in his sleep. The earl waked him and asked him what he had been dreaming.

"I dreamed," answered Kark, "that we were both on board the same ship and that I stood at the helm."

"That must mean that thou rulest over thine own life as well as mine. Be therefore faithful to me, Kark, as behooves thee, and I will reward thee when better days come."

Once more the thrall fell asleep and labored heavily, as in a nightmare. The earl woke him again and asked him to relate his dream.

"I thought I was at Hlade," said Kark, "and Olaf Tryggvesson put a golden ring about my neck."

"The meaning of that," cried the earl, "is that Olaf Tryggvesson will put a red ring[A] about thy neck, if thou goest to seek him. Therefore, beware of him, Kark, and be faithful to me. Then thou wilt enjoy good things from me, as thou hast done before."

The night dragged slowly along and each sat staring at the other, with rigid, sleepy eyes, which yet dared not close. Toward morning, however, the earl fell backward and sleep overwhelmed him. But the terrors of his vigil pursued him sleeping. His soul seemed to be tossed on a sea of anguish. He screamed in wild distress, rolled about, rose upon his knees and elbows, and his face was terrible to behold. Then Kark sprang up, seized his knife and thrust it into his master's throat. Soon after he presented himself before Olaf Tryggvesson with the earl's head, claiming the reward. But Olaf verified the murdered man's prophecy. He put not a ring of gold, but one of blood about the traitor's neck (995).

Earl Haakon was the last champion of paganism upon the throne of Norway. He was a man of great natural endowment, fearless yet prudent, formidable in battle, and in his earlier years justly popular for his kindliness and liberality. It appears, however, as if the dignity and power which he conquered by his own ability intoxicated him and disturbed the fine equilibrium of his mind. Morally, he was, barring the profligacy of his later days, a legitimate product of the old Germanic paganism and the conditions of life which must of necessity prevail in a militant community. The shrewdness and faithlessness which we are apt to censure in the heroic types of this age, were, in reality, enforced by the hostile attitude of man to man and the resultant necessity for distrust and simulation. Candor and veracity were virtues which, according to the old Norse code, were only to be practised between friends, while mendacity and deceit were legitimate weapons against enemies. Earl Haakon was, however, even according to his code, culpable in not discriminating between friend and foe. He rose by faithlessness, and by faithlessness he fell.