King Olaf's first endeavor, after having ascended the throne, was to Christianize the country. He was by nature well adapted for this task, being zealous in the faith, resolute, and uncompromising. Where gentle means did not avail he had no hesitation in employing sword and fire. Vehement as he was by temperament, brooking no argument, he wasted no time in weighing the probabilities of success or failure, but in the conviction of the sanctity of his cause stormed resistlessly onward and by his impetuosity and ardor, bore down all opposition. His first appearance as the champion of the new religion was in Viken, where he called his relations and adherents together and told them, that it was his intention to convert the whole kingdom of Norway to faith in Christ the White, even though he were to lose his life in the attempt. In Viken lived at that time his mother and his step-father, Lodin, who had a large following of friends and relations. Some of these were, no doubt, already Christians, or had been primsigned, as Christianity had, twenty-five years before, been preached for a short time in this part of the country by two Germans. No particular opposition was therefore offered to the king's command, and within a brief period Olaf had the satisfaction of seeing all of Viken—the old kingdom of his father, Tryggve—nominally, at least, converted to Christianity. It is not to be inferred, however, that the converts, in accepting baptism, renounced their faith in the gods whom they had previously worshipped. On the contrary, they continued to believe in their existence, and perhaps even secretly to worship them. The Christian priests themselves professed belief in Odin and Thor, but represented them as evil powers who had been conquered by Christ and thrown into the outer darkness. As Christ had now all power in heaven and earth, it was futile to invoke the favor of the vanquished gods by sacrifice. In this practical shape the new religion unquestionably appealed to many whom otherwise it could not have reached. The relation to the old gods had been in its essence a contract for protection and good crops, in return for certain tangible values sacrificed. As Christianity was then preached, it was in many respects the same thing under a different name. Prayers formerly addressed to Odin or Frey were now addressed to Christ and the Virgin Mary, and though offerings of horses and bullocks were discontinued, the fragrant incense was still supposed to rise to the nostrils of the new god and propitiate his favor. The salient and essential difference between the old and the new faith, and the only one which the Norsemen in the beginning vividly apprehended, was the great doctrine of peace upon earth and good-will among men. While Odin and Thor took pleasure in bloodshed and rejoiced in war, Christ the White loved peace and accorded no merit to the man-slayer.

That this doctrine, though it was slow to affect the lives of the new converts, nevertheless from generation to generation wrought a change in the moral consciousness of the Norsemen, can scarcely be questioned. The old Asa faith was inconsistent with any kind of civilization, because it meant, in the end, universal destruction. As long as killing was per se meritorious and secured the favor of the gods and honor among men, no trade but that of arms could flourish, and every peaceful industry became impossible. In Iceland, where the spirit of the old Germanic paganism survived, even long after the introduction of Christianity, internecine feuds of the most atrocious character prevailed for centuries, resulting in a gradual decadence, followed by stagnation and decay. The result in Norway, as the subsequent narrative will show, was scarcely better. A universal exhaustion followed the long carnival of bloodshed, and a heavy lethargy, lasting for four hundred years, settled upon the people.

It would be vain to pretend that Olaf Tryggvesson, when he undertook the task of destroying the Asa faith, had any conception of the superior sociological value of the new faith over the old. Not even the conception of one God, instead of many, seems to have been emphasized in the preaching of those days. On the contrary, the Christian religion was adapted, as far as possible, to the pre-existing polytheistic notions, and a new hierarchy, consisting of the Trinity, the Virgin Mary, and a host of saints, was exalted as objects of worship instead of the old gods. If the character of the religious teaching is to be inferred from the character of the teachers, it is safe to conclude that the early Germanic Christianity was ethically not far removed from the religion which it came to supplant. Thus we hear much in the Saga of Olaf Tryggvesson of a priest named Thangbrand, whose violence, pugnacity, and readiness to kill must have made him an odd exponent of the gospel of peace. Thangbrand was a Saxon, and had been sent north with many other missionaries to assist in converting the Danes. Bishop Siric, of Canterbury, presented him during a visit with a curiously wrought shield, upon which was the image of the crucified Christ. Shortly after this occurrence, Thangbrand made the acquaintance of Olaf Tryggvesson, who admired the shield greatly and desired to buy it. The priest received a munificent compensation, and finding himself suddenly rich, went and bought a beautiful Irish girl, whose charms had beguiled him. A German warrior who saw the girl claimed her, and when his demand was scornfully refused challenged the priest. A duel was fought and the German was killed. Some ill feeling was aroused against Thangbrand by this incident, and he fled to his friend, Olaf Tryggvesson, and became his court chaplain. As such he was under the authority of Bishop Sigurd, an Anglo-Saxon, probably of Norse descent, whom Olaf had brought with him from England. Bishop Sigurd was a man of grave and gentle spirit and a striking contrast to the ferocious court chaplain.

The Christianization of Viken was followed by that of Agder. Any decided opposition the king did not meet until he came to South HÖrdaland, where a number of mighty chieftains had gathered in the hope of intimidating him. His fearless and resolute behavior, however, impressed them so much that, after some negotiations, they accepted the faith and were baptized. In return for this concession, they demanded of the king that he should give his sister Aastrid in marriage to the young and high-born chief, Erling Skjalgsson of Sole; and as the king thought this marriage in every way desirable, he gave his consent. Encouraged by his success, Olaf hastened on to TrÖndelag, where was the old and magnificent temple of Hlade, the principal sanctuary of Norse paganism. Impelled by holy zeal, and heedless of the consequences, he broke down the altar of the gods, burned their images, and carried off their treasures. The TrÖnders promptly responded to this challenge by sending the war-arrow[A] from house to house, and preparing to fight with the king. Olaf, who had but a small force with him, did not venture to offer them battle; but sailed northward to Haalogaland, where another armed band, under the command of Thore Hjort and Haarek of Thjotta, stood ready to receive him. As discretion was here the better part of valor, the king was in no haste to land, but returned to TrÖndelag, where the peasants in the meanwhile had dispersed, and began to build a church in the place where the old temple had stood. He meant to show the TrÖnders that he was neither discouraged nor frightened, that neither threats nor arms could induce him to desist from his undertaking. With the desire to strengthen his power here, where it most needed strengthening, he began also the building of a royal residence, and laid the foundation of the future city of Nidaros or Drontheim (996).

At the beginning of the winter he again summoned the peasants to meet him at the Frostathing, and they again responded by an armed concourse, much greater than the preceding one. When the assembly was called to order, the king rose and eloquently expounded the new faith, repeating his demand that the TrÖnders should accept baptism and cease to sacrifice. But he had not spoken long when the peasants began to interrupt him by angry shouts, threatening to attack him and chase him out of the country, unless he was silent. One of them, a chieftain named Skegge AasbjÖrnsson or Ironbeard (Jernskjegge) was especially active in denouncing the king and exciting the people against him. Olaf came to the conclusion that nothing was to be accomplished here by persuasion, and he resolved reluctantly to postpone his propaganda until a more propitious time. He then began to talk in a more conciliatory spirit; promised the peasants to be present at their sacrificial feast at Yule-tide, and discuss further with them the change of faith. This promise was received with great satisfaction, and the assembly peacefully dispersed.

Shortly before the time appointed for the sacrifice, Olaf invited the chieftains and the most powerful peasants from all the neighboring shires, to meet him at a feast at Hlade. He placed thirty well-manned ships out in the fjord, where he could summon them in case of need. The guests were royally entertained, and as the night advanced became very drunk. In the morning the king ordered his priests to celebrate the mass, and a crowd of armed men arrived from the ships to attend the religious service. The guests, who were scarcely in a condition to profit by the worship, observed with growing uneasiness the size of the congregation. When the service was at an end, the king rose and addressed them as follows:

"When we held thing the last time, at Frosten, I demanded of the peasants that they should accept baptism; and they, on the other hand, demanded of me that I should sacrifice with them, as Haakon, Ethelstan's foster-son, had done. I made no objection to this, but promised to be present at the sacrificial feast at MÖre. However, if I am to sacrifice with you, then I am minded to make a sacrifice of the biggest kind that has ever been made. I will not take thralls and criminals; but I will sacrifice the most high-born men and the mightiest peasants."

He then named six of the most powerful chieftains present, who had been his most active opponents, and declared that he meant to offer them up to Odin and Frey for good crops. Before they had time to recover from their astonishment, they were seized, and presented with the alternative of being baptized, or sacrificed to their own gods. They did not meditate long before choosing the former. When the ceremony was finished, they begged to be allowed to depart, but the king declared that he would detain them, until they had sent him their sons or brothers as hostages.

At the Yule-tide sacrifice at MÖre, the king arrived with a large number of followers. The peasants, too, came in full force, armed to the teeth, and defiant as ever. Conspicuous among them was the burly form of Ironbeard, who was everywhere active and seemed the head and front of the opposition. The king endeavored to speak, but the noise was so great that nobody could hear him. After a while, however, the tumult subsided, and he repeated his former demand, that all present should accept baptism, and believe in Christ the White; to which Ironbeard haughtily responded, that the peasants were here to prevent the king from breaking the law, that sacrificing to the gods was in accordance with the law, and that Olaf, whether he would or not, would have to sacrifice, as his predecessors had done. The king listened patiently to this speech; and declared himself ready to keep his promise. Accompanied by many men he entered the temple, leaving his arms without; for no one was allowed to enter the sanctuary, bearing arms. The king carried, however, in his hand a stout stick with a gold head. He inspected the images of the gods carefully; lingering especially before that of Thor, which was adorned with rings of gold and silver. Suddenly, while all were looking at him, he raised his stick and gave the god a blow, so that he fell from his pedestal and broke into many pieces. At the very same instant his men struck down the other idols; and Ironbeard who was outside was slain. It was all evidently pre-arranged; and the peasants, who stood aghast at the magnitude of the sacrilege, scarcely knew whither to turn or how to resent it. They looked to Ironbeard to give voice to their outraged feeling, but Ironbeard was dead; and there was no one among the rest who had any desire to speak. When the king, therefore, for the third time, repeated his demand that they be baptized, or fight with him on the spot, they chose the former alternative. After having given hostages for their perseverance in the faith, and their abandonment of heathen practices, they made haste to return to their homes. For the slaying of Ironbeard, Olaf offered to pay a large "atonement" to his relatives, and to marry his daughter Gudrun. On the wedding-night, however, Gudrun attempted to murder him, and was returned to her kinsmen. He can scarcely have regretted her much, as he immediately prepared for a new matrimonial venture.

This time his attention was directed to Sigrid the Haughty, the widow of King Erik the Victorious of Sweden. Sigrid was rich and wielded a large influence, being the mother of King Olaf the Swede, and the possessor of great landed estates in Gautland. She was, therefore, much afflicted with wooers, who came from many countries to share her heart and her possessions. One descendant of Harold the Fairhaired, Harold GrÖnske (the Greenlander), she had burned up, in order to punish his presumption in offering himself to her.

"I'll teach little kings the risks of proposing to me," she said, as she ordered the hall where her wooers slept to be fired.

Olaf Tryggvesson's overtures, which were conducted by negotiations, she received favorably, and agreed to meet him at Konghelle, near the boundary line between Norway and Sweden. Olaf sent in advance, as a present, a large gold ring which he had taken from the door of the temple at Hlade. It was admired, but on being tested was found to be filled with copper. This incensed Sigrid, but she still concluded to keep her appointment with Olaf. They accordingly met and discussed the terms of the marriage. Olaf demanded, as an indispensable condition, that Sigrid should be baptized, to which Sigrid strenuously objected. Then the king sprang up in great wrath and struck her with his glove in the face, crying: "What do I want with thee, thou old heathen jade?" She arose, speechless with anger, but when she had reached the door she turned back, saying: "That shall be thy death."

A short time after this meeting, Sigrid married Sweyn Forkbeard, of Denmark, possibly with a view to accomplishing her vengeance upon Olaf. Sweyn's sister Thyra, whom he had married against her will to the Wendic King Burislav, fled immediately after the wedding and arrived in Norway, imploring Olaf's protection. It is possible that he had met her before, and was well disposed toward her. At all events, he solved the problem by marrying her (998), although she was fully as old as Sigrid the Haughty, and had had two husbands before.

After this brief interval, devoted to personal affairs, Olaf returned once more to the task to which he had consecrated his life. The chieftains of Haalogaland, who had prevented him from landing when he came to convert them, still remained unsubdued; and the time was now convenient for teaching them a lesson in submission. There were especially three, viz.: Thore Hjort, Eyvind Kinriva, and Haarek of Thjotta, the son of Eyvind Scald-Spoiler, who were the chieftains and leaders of the tribal aristocracy of those regions. It was natural enough that these men, who derived much of their dignity from their priesthoods and consequent identification with the old religion, should be most tenacious in their adherence to the faith which was the foundation of their power. Haarek, who descended from a daughter of Harold the Fairhaired, felt himself to be quite as great a man as King Olaf, and he was in no wise disposed to submit without a trial of strength. It so happened that two men from Haalogaland, named Sigurd and Hauk, had been captured by the king and escaped. These, pretending to be the king's enemies, sought refuge with Haarek, and were well received by him. One day they proposed a sailing tour, to which their host willingly assented. They took provisions and beer with them in the boat, set sail, and steered for Nidaros, where they delivered Haarek into the power of the king. He stubbornly refused to be baptized, but was, nevertheless, after a brief detention, given a ship and permitted to return unmolested to his home. From that day, however, Haarek, though making no pretence of friendship, acted as the ally of the king. He even helped to betray his friend, Eyvind Kinriva, into Olaf's hands. The king presented Eyvind with the usual alternative of baptism or death, but with the unusual result that the latter was preferred. Thore Hjort was now alone left; he allied himself with Raud the Strong, who had the reputation of being a wizard, and delivered a regular battle in which he was defeated by the king. Raud escaped on his fleet dragon-ship, while Thore was pursued by Olaf, who set a dog named Vige on his track, saying:

"Vige, catch thou the stag."[A]

The dog did actually overtake Thore, and the king cut him down with his own hands. Olaf strove in vain to get on the track of Raud, but the weather was so terrible that he did not venture to go to sea. He began to suspect, after a while, that it was Raud himself who, by his witchcraft, had aroused the elements; and after having waited for several days and nights for a change in the weather, he called Bishop Sigurd to him and asked his advice. The bishop, it is told, raised up a crucifix, surrounded by lighted tapers, in the prow of the king's ship, "The Crane," and stood himself beside it, clad in sacerdotal vestments, praying and scattering holy water. Instantly the storm ceased about "The Crane," though it still roared wildly under the heavens, and the smoke of the lashed waves stood like a wall on either side. The men now seized the oars and rowed in toward the island where Raud was living, "The Crane" keeping the lead and the other ships following in the smooth water in her wake. Raud was surprised while asleep, and as he still refused to become a Christian, was tortured until he died. The king forced an adder down his throat, according to the legend; and it cut its way through his side, killing him by its poison.

There is much in this story which is obviously legendary. But there is one circumstance which stamps the adventure itself as essentially true, viz.: the detailed description of Raud's ship, "The Serpent," which the king took, and which figures later in the battle of Svolder. One may be reluctant to believe that a man so chivalrous and noble as Olaf Tryggvesson on other occasions proved himself to be, can have been guilty of the cruelty which is here attributed to him. This instance is, however, not a solitary one. Eyvind Kinriva, when he refused to be baptized, had glowing coals put upon his stomach, at the king's command, and expired under horrible tortures. Olaf's fanaticism led him to believe that praise rather than censure was due to him for thus punishing the enemies of God. It is, indeed, probable that a man of gentler calibre, and more squeamish in the selection of his means, would never have accomplished even the nominal Christianization of Norway. In fact, so great was Olaf's zeal, and so single his purpose, that he subordinated all other concerns to this one great object, the thought of which filled him with a noble enthusiasm.

Even before he had secured the allegiance of the surviving chief of Haalogaland, Haarek of Thjotta, who, with all his household, accepted the Christian faith, he sent messengers to the Faeroe Isles, Iceland, and Greenland, and commanded the chieftains there to renounce their old religion. Sigmund Bresteson, the Earl of the Faeroe Isles, whom he summoned to him, arrived in Norway (999) and was baptized. Thangbrand, who was sent to Iceland to preach the gospel, had at first a considerable success, baptizing such important chiefs as Hall of the Side, and Gissur the White, and the great lawyer Njaal of Bergthor's knoll. The pugnacious priest, however, soon got into difficulties by his readiness to draw his sword, killed several men, was outlawed, and compelled to leave the island. In Norway, where Olaf had given him the church at Moster, he had, previous to his departure for Iceland, found it inconvenient to live on his income, and in order to increase his revenue, had been in the habit of making forays into the neighboring shires, replenishing his stores at the expense of the heathen. This freebooting propensity incensed the king, and Thangbrand's missionary expedition to Iceland was undertaken as a penance for his misbehavior. It had, however, far greater results than either Olaf or the priest could have anticipated. The public sentiment in Iceland, after Thangbrand's flight, changed with astonishing rapidity in favor of the new faith, which was legally accepted at the Althing June, A.D. 1000.

Olaf's great achievement, as the first successful propagandist of Christianity on the throne of Norway, surrounded his name with a halo which dazzled his biographers and disposed them to exalt him beyond his deserts. For all that, it is a fact that his contemporaries, many of whom had small reason to love him, were no less dazzled by his brilliant personality than his biographers. In the first place, his manly beauty and his resemblance to Haakon the Good, which was frequently commented upon, predisposed the people in his favor. Secondly, his natural kindliness and winning manners attracted every one who came in contact with him. Last, but not least, his extraordinary skill in athletic sports and the use of arms was greatly admired. He could, as Snorre relates, use his right and his left hand equally well in shooting; he could play with three spears at once, so that one was always in the air; he could run forward and backward on the oars of a ship while the men were rowing. In daily intercourse he was affable and generous, fond of a joke, and easily moved to laughter and to wrath. In anger he could do things which he later regretted; and we have seen how, when fired with holy zeal, he committed acts which he ought to have regretted, though there is no evidence that he did. His love of splendor in attire and surroundings may be accounted a weakness, but it served, nevertheless, to endear him to his people.

Although surrounded by enemies on all sides, Norway suffered but little from foreign wars during the brief reign of Olaf Tryggvesson. GudrÖd, the last surviving son of Erik Blood-Axe, made an attack upon Viken in the summer of 999, but was defeated and slain in the king's absence by his brothers-in-law, Thorgeir and Hyrning. Much more dangerous to King Olaf proved the hostility of Sigrid the Haughty, who was watching for an opportunity to take revenge upon him. Although he must have been well aware of the risks, he did not hesitate to furnish this opportunity. His queen, Thyra, had great estates in Wendland and Denmark, and was dissatisfied, because she was deprived of the revenues which they had formerly brought her. Whenever he spoke to her, she always contrived to bring in something about these estates, and by appeals to his vanity egg him on to war with her brother Sweyn Forkbeard, who withheld from her her rightful property. When these tactics failed, she resorted to prayers and tears, until her husband's patience was wellnigh exhausted. If only for the sake of domestic peace, an expedition to Wendland began to be discussed as an approaching possibility. One Sunday in March—it was Palm Sunday—the king met a man in the street who sold spring vegetables. He bought a bunch and brought it to the queen, remarking that these vegetables were large, considering the earliness of the season. The queen, who was, as usual, weeping for her estates in Wendland, thrust the vegetables contemptuously away, and with the tears streaming down her face, cried: "Greater gifts did my father, Harold Gormsson, give me when, as a child, I got my first teeth; he came hither to Norway and conquered it; while thou, for fear of my brother Sweyn, darest not journey through Denmark in order to get me what belongs to me, and of which I have been shamefully robbed."

To this King Olaf wrathfully replied: "Never shall I be afraid of thy brother Sweyn, and if we meet, he shall succumb."

Summons was now sent through all the shires of the land, calling upon the chieftains to join the king with as many ships as were by law required of them. He had himself just finished a ship of extraordinary size and beauty, called "The Long-Serpent," the fame of which spread through all the lands of the North. It was 56 Norwegian ells, or about 112 feet from prow to stern, had 52 oars on either side, and could accommodate 600 warriors. The crew was made up of picked men, none of whom must be over 60 and less than 20 years of age. Only one exception was permitted to this rule in the case of Einar Eindridsson surnamed Thambarskelver, who was but 18 years old, but the most skilful archer in all Norway. With his bow, called Thamb, from which he derived his surname, he could shoot a blunt arrow through a raw ox-hide, depending from a pole.

In order to distinguish "The Long-Serpent" from the dragon-ship he had taken from Raud the Strong, Olaf called the latter "The Short-Serpent." He had many other excellent ships besides, and his brothers-in-law, Erling Skjalgsson of Sole, Thorgeir, and Hyrning, joined him, each with a large and finely-equipped galley.

When he steered southward to Wendland, he had about 60 ships of war besides a similar number of smaller transports. King Burislav, in spite of his union with Thyra, received him well, possibly on account of the earlier relationship through Geira, or on account of their common hostility to Sweyn Forkbeard in Denmark. The question of the estates was amicably settled and Olaf, after having been splendidly entertained, prepared to start homeward. The rumor, in the meanwhile, had gone abroad that he was in Wendland, and his enemies, in order to gather a sufficiently large force to destroy him, employed Earl Sigvalde, the chief of the Jomsvikings, to detain him and lull him into a false security. In this the treacherous earl succeeded. He gained Olaf's confidence, scouted the thought that Sweyn Forkbeard should ever dare attack him; and finally offered to escort him on the way with his own fleet and pilot him through the dangerous waters along the Wendic coast. It was of no avail that Sigvalde's wife, Aastrid, the night before Olaf's departure, warned him against her husband as openly as she dared, and proposed to send a ship along in case of danger. A strange infatuation bound him to his false friend. At Sigvalde's advice he even permitted part of his fleet to start in advance, as the straits between the islands were narrow. The traitor, in the meanwhile, was in constant communication with King Sweyn, at whose request he agreed to separate Olaf from his main force and lead him into the trap which his foes had prepared for him. Besides King Sweyn there were Earl Erik, who had the death of his father, Earl Haakon, to avenge, and King Olaf the Swede, the son of Sigrid the Haughty. All these were lying in wait with about sixty or seventy war galleys, behind the little island of Svolder, between the island RÜgen and the present Prussian province, Pomerania. From their hiding-place they looked for several days in vain for the Norse ships, and began to grow impatient. They had gone ashore with their crews in order to while away the time, and the three commanders were standing together, sweeping the horizon with their glances, when, to their delight, the Norse transport fleet hove in sight, spreading its sails before the favoring breeze.

The day was fair. The sun shone brightly, and the surface of the water barely curled into slight undulations. Gayly the proud ships stood out to the sea, one larger and finer than the other. When King Sweyn saw the beautiful ship of Erling Skjalgsson of Sole, he was sure that it must be "The Long Serpent," though it had no dragon-head in its prow. "Afraid is Olaf Tryggvesson to-day," he said, "since he dares not carry a head on his dragon." "This ship I know well by its striped sails," said Earl Erik; "it does not belong to the king, but to Erling Skjalgsson. Let it pass; for if, as I suppose, he is himself on board, we shall be best served, if he and his band are not found among those with whom we are to fight to-day."

By twos and threes the great ships of the Norse chieftains passed by, and every time the Swedish and the Danish king were sure that one of them must be "The Long Serpent." Presently Sigvalde's fleet of eleven ships became visible, and having received signals from the allied princes, turned its course suddenly around the island, to the great astonishment of Thorkill Dyrdill, who was steering the king's ship, "The Crane," right in its wake. King Sweyn, at the sight of this splendid galley, could no more be restrained, but ordered his men aboard, in spite of Earl Erik's warning. He even insinuated that the latter was a coward who had no ambition to avenge his father; to which the earl replied, that before the setting of the sun it would be seen who was the more eager for battle, the Swedes and Danes, or he and his men.

Thorkill Dyrdill dropped the sails of "The Crane," and, taking in the situation at a glance, determined to await the arrival of King Olaf. Then came "The Short Serpent," casting golden gleams across the water from its shining dragon-head; and King Sweyn cried exultingly: "Loftily shall the Serpent bear me to-night, and I shall steer her."

Earl Erik, in whom King Sweyn's recent taunt was rankling, replied: "Even if Olaf Tryggvesson had no larger ship than this, Sweyn, with all his army of Danes, could not win it from him."

When at last "The Long Serpent" reared its flaming prow against the horizon, shooting long beams in the sun, the three princes marvelled at its beauty. Many a one trembled, too, with fear, when he saw the majestic ship approaching, and the dense rows of polished shields and swords flashing from afar.

"This glorious ship," said Earl Erik, "is fitting for such a king as Olaf Tryggvesson; for it may, in sooth, be said of him, that he is distinguished above all other kings as 'The Long Serpent' above all other ships."

All King Olaf's fleet, with the exception of eleven ships, were now out of sight, and many of his chieftains advised him not to fight against such heavy odds. He would not listen to their counsel, but ordered the ships to be bound together and every thing to be prepared for battle.

"Down with the sails," he cried with a loud voice, which could be clearly heard across the waters; "never have I yet fled from any battle. God rules over my life. Never will I flee; for he is no king who shuns his foes because of fear."

The whole hostile fleet now rowed forward from behind the island, and it seemed as if the sea was covered with ships as far as the eye could reach. King Sweyn, with his sixty galleys, became first visible.

"What chieftain is that right opposite to us?" asked King Olaf.

"That is King Sweyn with the Danish army," answered one of his men.

"I have no fear of them," said the king. "Never yet have Danes beaten Norsemen, and they will not beat us to-day. But to what chieftain belong the standards there on the right?"

He was told that they belonged to Olaf, the king of the Swedes.

"The Swedes," said he, "would find it more agreeable to sit at home and lick their sacrificial bowls,[A] than to meet our arms to-day on 'The Long Serpent.' Scarcely do I think that we need be afraid of those horse-eaters. But whose are those large ships on the left side of the Danes?"

"That," answered his informant, "is Earl Erik, Earl Haakon's son."

"From them we may expect a hard battle; for, methinks, Earl Erik has considerable reason for attacking us; and he and his men are Norsemen like ourselves,"

While the king was speaking, Queen Thyra, who had accompanied him, came up on deck. Seeing the enormous hostile fleet before her, and the smallness of her husband's force, she burst into tears.

"Now thou must not weep," said King Olaf; "for now thou hast, indeed, gotten what was due to thee in Wendland; and to-day I mean to demand of thy brother Sweyn thy tooth-gift which thou hast so often asked me for."

King Sweyn was the first to attack, but after a short and stubborn fight was compelled to retreat. One of his galleys was disabled after the other, and there was a great carnage. King Olaf himself stood on the poop royal[A] of "The Long Serpent," where all could see him, directing the defence, and himself fighting with spears and arrows. His helmet and his shield, which were gilt, shone in the sun. Over his armor he wore a short tunic of scarlet silk. While the Danes were in full retreat, the Swedes hastened to their rescue, and they now bore for a while the brunt of the battle. For every Swede or Dane that fell there were ten ready to take his place; while the Norsemen, surrounded on all sides by hostile ships, had to endure an incessant shower of spears and arrows, and the shock of repeated onsets that had to be repelled by the sword in hand-to-hand conflicts. However tired and thirsty they were, they could give themselves no respite. Every man that fell or was disabled by wounds left a gap that could not be filled. And yet, in spite of the great numerical superiority of their foes, they would have carried the day at Svolder, if Earl Erik had not commenced a destructive attack upon the right wing, while the Swedes and the Danes were engaging the centre. In fact, the latter were again retreating in disorder before the furious bravery of King Olaf's men, when Earl Erik rowed up alongside the outermost ship on the right, with his great galley, "The Iron Ram," and made a vigorous onslaught. Here Norseman met Norseman, and the numbers had to decide. The men on the king's ship fought desperately, but were overpowered, and leaped into the sea, or saved themselves on board the next ship. The first was then cut adrift, and Erik, in accordance with a well-matured plan, engaged the next and the next. At last all of King Olaf's ships except "The Long Serpent" were cut adrift, and their defenders slain. Then a space was cleared in front of "The Iron Ram," and she was rowed forward with tremendous force, striking "The Long Serpent" amidships. The good ship creaked in all her beams; but as there was scarcely any wind no great damage was done. Einar Thambarskelver, who stood before the mast on "The Long Serpent," saw Earl Erik standing near the prow of "The Iron Ram," covered by many shields. He bent his bow and sent an arrow whizzing over his head, and in the next instant another, which flew between the earl's arm and his body. The earl, turning to the archer, Finn Eyvindsson, said: "Shoot that tall man on the forward deck."

Finn aimed an arrow at Einar just as he was bending his bow for a third shot at the earl; the arrow hit the bow in the middle, and it broke with a loud crash.

"What was it that broke?" asked Olaf.

"Norway from thy hands, my king," cried Einar.

"So great was not the breach, I hope," the king made answer; "take my bow and shoot with that."

He flung his own bow to the archer, who seized it, bent it double, and flung it back. "Too weak is the king's bow," he said.

Earl Erik was now preparing for the final attack, and he could not doubt its result.

King Olaf's men were in a desperate strait, from which no escape was possible. The king flung forth his spears, two at a time, from his station on the poop, and many men were transfixed by his keen shafts. He watched at the same time the combat on the forward deck, whither the earl was just directing his attack, and it seemed to him that his men made no headway.

"Do you wield your swords with so little strength," he cried, "since they bite so poorly?"

"No," answered a warrior; "but our swords are dull and broken."

The king then hastened to the forward deck, where there was a large chest of arms. He opened it and took out armfuls of bright, sharp swords, which he flung to his men. As he stooped down, the blood trickled down over his hands from under his armor. His men then knew that he was wounded, but it was no time then for nursing any one's wounds. The earl's men were storming forward, and the tired Norsemen fell in heaps, and could no longer keep them back. The arrows rained thick and fast about the king, and it was obvious he could not hold out much longer. He was visible to all; for he made no attempt to hide or shelter himself. One of his trusted men, KolbjÖrn Stallare, who saw his danger, sprang upon the poop and placed himself at his side. His resemblance to the king had often been remarked upon; moreover, he was of the same height, and was similarly dressed. The storm of missiles was now directed against both, and, as they raised their shields, they were thickly fringed with arrows. The clash of arms, the groans of the dying, and the whizzing of flying missiles, filled the air. The king let his shield drop and looked out over the ship. There were but eight men alive, besides himself and KolbjÖrn. He raised the shield above his head and leaped overboard. KolbjÖrn followed his example, but was picked up by the earl's men, who mistook him for the king. That the latter was drowned, there can be no reasonable doubt, although there is a legend, which was fondly cherished, that he swam to the galley which Aastrid, Earl Sigvalde's wife, had sent out for his rescue. According to this story, he made a pilgrimage to Rome, and lived long as a hermit in the Holy Land.

King Olaf Tryggvesson was thirty-six years old when he died (1000). Queen Thyra, who, with good reason, held herself responsible for his death, was inconsolable. When she came up on deck, after the battle, and saw the destruction she had wrought she broke into lamentation. Earl Erik was moved by her sorrow and spoke kindly to her, assuring her that if she would return to Norway she would be accorded the honor which was due to her as the widow of so great a king. She thanked him for his offer, but said that she had no heart to survive her lord. On the ninth day after the battle she died.