Erling Skakke had effectually cleared the way to the throne for his son, by killing every descendant of the royal house whom he could lay hands on. There was, however, another undoubted son of Sigurd Mouth left, whom he had not got into his power, besides several whose claims had not yet been pronounced upon. The bitterness between the party of Erling and that of Haakon was indeed so great, that a reconciliation was not to be thought of, and the latter, therefore, seized the opportunity to rally about a king whose royal descent was unquestioned. This new claimant was a boy named Sigurd Marcusfostre (the foster-son of Marcus), probably ten or twelve years old, who had been brought up by Marcus of Skog, a friend and kinsman of Earl Sigurd of Reyr. Another magnate, the much-travelled Eindride the Young, transferred his allegiance to Sigurd, and a large number of proud and adventurous men, who could not tolerate Erling's supremacy, joined the new party. The peasants, however, who had hitherto suffered but little from the feuds of the kings, now began to find these roving bands troublesome, especially when they levied contributions and foraged wherever they went. Erling availed himself of this circumstance to excite their indignation against the "Sigurd party," as it was called, and he presently succeeded in forcing the hostile chieftains to give battle at Ree, near Tunsberg. Here Earl Sigurd fell, and Eindride the Young, Marcus of Skog, and the boy-king Sigurd were captured and executed.

Although no formidable pretender was now left, Erling, whose ambition was nothing less than the founding of a new dynasty, did not feel secure in his possession of power. The TrÖnders, who had been partisans of Sigurd Mouth, were yet at heart devoted to the party which represented him, and the Danish king Valdemar was incensed, because Erling had not kept his promise in regard to the cession of Viken. To fortify himself against the contingencies arising from this situation, Erling found it necessary to cast about him for new allies, and the choice which he made was exceedingly shrewd.

The Archbishop of Nidaros, at that time, was the able and imperious Eystein Erlendsson, who descended from a mighty TrÖndelag family, and therefore, apart from his episcopal office, was a man of great influence. He shared the political sympathies of the community in which he lived, and was therefore more disposed to be Erling's enemy than his friend. The sagacious chieftain, however, succeeded in propitiating him and in forming an alliance with him for mutual advantage. The result of their negotiations was, that a great meeting was called in Bergen, at which Norway was declared to be St. Olaf's heritage and property, and the bishops, as his representatives, acquired the right to reject any legitimate heir to the throne, in case they held him to be unworthy. The clerical and secular magnates were, at the death of a king, to select among his heirs the one who was to succeed him, the presumption being always in favor of the eldest son born in wedlock, unless he was declared unworthy. In case of disagreement, a majority of votes was to decide the choice, but only in so far as the archbishop and the other bishops gave their consent. If the king left no heirs of whom the magnates approved, they were at liberty to elect any one whom they regarded as fit to guard "the right of God and the laws of the land."

It is obvious that the secular and the clerical magnates here united for the spoliation of the crown, and in return for the concessions which Erling had made, as the nominal representative of the latter, the archbishop crowned Magnus in Bergen (1164), thereby repairing, in the eyes of many, the deficiency of his title. He had the friendship of the Church, which had it in her power to influence the people in his favor. He could therefore look forward without fear to meeting the Danish king, who was preparing to take forcible possession of the province which had been promised him. In order to test the sentiment of the people toward Magnus, Valdemar sent secret messengers with presents and friendly greetings to many prominent TrÖnders, some of whom committed themselves in writing to join him, in case he invaded Norway. Their letters, however, fell into Erling's hands, and the offenders were punished with severity. Some were killed, others outlawed, and again others were sentenced to pay enormous fines. When King Valdemar finally, in 1165, sailed with a large fleet to Norway he received a different reception from what he had expected. The number of the disaffected who were ready to do him homage was very small, compared to the number of those who were ready to fight him. He, therefore, returned to Denmark, without awaiting Erling's arrival. It is said that he suffered from lack of provisions; and was indisposed to harry in a province which he hoped soon to lay under his crown.

Before Erling had time to return this visit, a band of rebels was organized in the Oplands under the leadership of Olaf Guldbrandsson, a grandson on the mother's side of King Eystein I., the brother of Sigurd the Crusader. This new pretender attempted to rally the discontented chieftains under his banner. His adherents were called the Hood-Swains (Hettesveiner), and he himself got the surname, the Unlucky (UgÆva), because he came within an ace of capturing Erling at the farm, RydjÖkel, north of Lake Oieren, but failed through mischance (1166). The Hood-Swains then for some time eked out a precarious existence in forest and field; for the fear of Erling was so great that few who had any thing to lose dared to make common cause with them. He would probably have put an end to them without delay, if the hostilities with Denmark had not demanded his attention. It was, just then, the favorable moment for attacking Valdemar's kingdom, as he was himself absent in Wendland and his kinsman, Buris Henriksson, who had the greater part of Jutland in fief, had promised to co-operate with the Norsemen and even to capture and kill the king on his return. Erling accordingly sailed with his fleet to Denmark and beat the Danes at Djursaa; but was prevented, by the resolute conduct of Bishop Absalon, from reaping any benefit from his victory. A second campaign of Valdemar in Norway was as indecisive as the first, and finally, when both parties were tired of the aimless warfare, peace was concluded (1171), on condition that Erling should govern Viken as Valdemar's vassal and accept from him the title of earl. It is probable that Erling, after his return, made known only in part the terms of this peace; for the national feeling had now begun to assert itself in Norway; and it is scarcely credible that the people of Viken, who had, but a short time ago, manifested their hostility to the Danish king, should now willingly submit to becoming his subjects. What Erling did was really to confirm his own power and that of his son, at the expense of the integrity and the independence of his country. But in that respect he only followed the traditions of his class. The aristocracy of Norway usually (though there were many honorable exceptions) regarded their own independence and power as more important than those of their country. It was not the first time that the tribal magnates bartered away faith and honor for personal gain. In the olden time, when Norway was but a loose agglomeration of tribes, who felt their kinship to the Danes and Swedes more strongly than they did their own geographical isolation, such conduct was often excusable. But in the days of Erling Skakke, the Norsemen were a nation, quite distinct from their neighbors, and the cession of a fertile province, like Viken, gave the Danes a foot-hold on the peninsula, and meant in the future, as Erling was shrewd enough to know, infinite complications, wars, and the possible loss of independence.

Having thus placated his foreign foes, Erling set himself to the task of exterminating the domestic ones. Olaf the Unlucky he had already, before the conclusion of the negotiations, beaten in two fights (at Stanger and at Dav, 1168), and had destroyed his band. Olaf had fled to Denmark, where he died (1169). There were, however, several pretenders left who had as much right to the throne as Magnus Erlingsson; and Erling did not choose to wait until they became dangerous, before relieving himself of their presence. Sigurd Mouth's daughter, Cecilia, he sent to Vermeland and made her the mistress of a man, named Folkvid the Lawman. His own step-son, Harold, an illegitimate son of his wife Christina, and accordingly a grandson of Sigurd the Crusader, he beheaded, in spite of King Magnus' prayers and protests. That kind of clemency which involved future danger he professed not to understand.

"If I let him live," he said to his son, "they will all want him for their king, and thee to kiss the lips of the axe."

In spite of all his precautions, however, there was one scion of the royal house, and that the most dangerous of all, who escaped his attention. There was, at that time, living in the Faeroe Isles a youth named Sverre Sigurdsson, and the history of Norway for the next thirty years is chiefly his story. But before he enters upon the scene, a pretender named Eystein Meyla (Little Girl), who professed to be a son of Harold Gille's son Eystein, made a little stir and gathered about him the remnants of the rebellious party. He tried to obtain aid in Sweden, and was well received by Earl Birger in GÖtland, who had married Harold Gille's daughter, Brigida. He could, however, not sustain himself against Erling's power, and was obliged to roam about with his band on mountains and in wildernesses, robbing and plundering in order to keep from starving. His men thereby got a bad name, and on account of their dilapidated appearance and their habit of using birch-bark for shoes, the peasants called them derisively Birkebeiner, i. e., Birchlegs. The discipline of hardship and danger which their arduous life imposed upon them stood them, however, in good stead; and insignificant though they were in number, they were, as Erling found to his cost, not a foe to be despised. However often he beat them, they would never stay beaten. With wonderful intrepidity and endurance they rallied after each defeat, and fought again, whenever there was a chance of fighting. Many of them were undoubtedly little better than highwaymen, and to treat them as a political party would be an extravagant compliment. Their chief political purpose was, for a good while, to keep body and soul together. Gradually, however, their band was increased by political malcontents and even by men of high birth, who had quarrelled with Erling, or had the death of kinsmen to avenge. In the summer of 1176 they were numerous enough to surprise the city of Nidaros and have their chieftain, Eystein Meyla, proclaimed king at the Oere-thing; but the following year their luck deserted them, and in the battle of Ree, near Tunsberg, they were overwhelmingly defeated by King Magnus, and Eystein Meyla was slain (1177). The band then broke up, and the Birchlegs would perhaps never have been heard of again, if their fortunes had not become identified with those of a great man—Sverre Sigurdsson.

Sverre was born in the Faeroe Isles. His mother Gunhild was, according to the legend, cook in the service of King Sigurd Mouth. She was not particularly handsome, but quick-witted and intelligent. The king begged her to kill her child, as soon as it was born; and being unwilling to listen to such a proposition, she fled on a ship to the Faeroe Isles, where she took service as milkmaid with Bishop Mathias. Here she bore a son, whom she named Sverre. A smith or combmaker named Unas came, the following spring, from Norway, and she suspected him of having been sent by the king to kill her child. She therefore hid it in a cave, which is yet called Sverre's Cave. Unas, however, followed her and discovered where the child was hidden, but promised not to harm it, if she would marry him. She consented, though reluctantly, and returned with him to Norway. Sigurd Mouth was then dead, and she had nothing to fear. When the boy was five years old, he returned to the Faeroe Isles with his mother and step-father. The latter's brother, Roe, had been made bishop after the death of Mathias, and Unas was not insensible to the advantage of living in a neighborhood, where he had such an influential relative. Sverre grew up in the belief that he was the son of Unas, and Bishop Roe, who took a fancy to him on account of his extraordinary intelligence, began to educate him for the priesthood. His ambition, as he himself asserts, did not then extend beyond a bishopric, or possibly a cardinal's hat. But when he was ordained as diaconus (which is one of the lower grades of the priesthood), his mother burst into tears, and to his question why she was displeased at the honor conferred upon him, she answered: "This is but a paltry honor, compared to that which by right belongs to thee. Thou art not the son of him whom thou thinkest, but of King Sigurd in Norway. I have kept this from thee, until thou shouldst reach the age of manhood."

From that day Sverre's peace of mind was gone. Great thoughts tossed and whirled about in his soul and his life seemed poor and meaningless. His ambition kept him awake in the night and bright vistas of future achievements beckoned him from afar.

"If I am born to a crown," he said to his mother, "then I will strive to win it, whatever it may cost me. Life has no more joy for me without it, and therefore I will stake life on it."

Disregarding the warnings of the bishop he embarked for Norway, and, without revealing who he was, spent some time in investigating the sentiments of the people toward King Magnus. This is highly characteristic of Sverre. He made no leap in the dark, but computed carefully the strength of the enemy whom he was to combat. What he learned was, however, far from encouraging. The people seemed everywhere devoted to King Magnus and well contented with his rule. Sverre also made the acquaintance of Erling Skakke, studied him thoroughly, and talked with his men-at-arms, who found the priest from the Faeroe Isles a droll and entertaining fellow, and freely told him all the gossip of the royal household. To enter the lists, alone and penniless, against a power so formidable as this, seemed madness. Sverre was too shrewd not to see that such an undertaking was hopeless. At the same time, he was not minded to return, after his dream of royalty, to his obscure priesthood on the bleak isles in the North Sea. He knew that Earl Birger in Sweden was married to a sister of Sigurd Mouth, and, as a forlorn hope, he crossed the frontier, revealed his origin to the earl, and begged him for aid. The earl, it appears, who had reaped no glory from his alliance with Eystein Meyla, did not receive Sverre's request graciously, suspecting that he had been sent by Erling to mock him. Sverre, then, betook himself to his half-sister, Cecilia, who was the mistress of Folkvid the Lawman, and met here with a better reception. The rumor that a son of Sigurd Mouth had made his appearance in Sweden had, in the meanwhile, gone abroad and had reached the remnants of the Birchleg band. They made haste to find Sverre and requested him to be their chief; but Sverre, seeing what condition they were in, declined. He made them a little speech, in which he remarked that the only thing he had in common with them was poverty; and advised them, in conclusion, to select as their chief one of Earl Birger's sons, who were, like himself, descendants of Harold Gille. The Birchlegs acted upon this advice, but received no encouragement from the earl.

He told them, perhaps not without a humorous intention, that Sverre was their man, and advised them, in case he persisted in his refusal, to threaten him with death. Back they went, accordingly, to Sverre, and this time he yielded to their persuasions. He must then have been twenty-four or twenty-five years old. And thus, with two empty hands and seventy ragged and badly armed men, he began the fight for the crown of Norway. He started from Vermeland southward for Viken, and so many gathered about him on the way, that by the time he arrived in the Saurbygd, he had 420 men. These proclaimed him, in spite of his protest, king, and touched his sword in token of allegiance. But when he forbade them to rob and plunder the peasants, the majority grew discontented and left him. In order to test them he ordered them back to Vermeland, but by the time he reached the Eidskog, his band had shrunk to the original seventy. Sverre was now in a serious dilemma. He had announced himself as a claimant to the throne, thereby making himself fair game for any one who could slay him. And to wage war against King Magnus and Erling Skakke with seventy men was too absurd to be considered. In his extremity he sent messengers to Thelemark, where he had heard that some Birchlegs had sought refuge after the battle of Ree, and where there was said to be much dissatisfaction with King Magnus. Wherever he appeared, the peasants met him with hostile demonstrations, and many were those who wished to earn the gratitude of Earl Erling by destroying the runaway priest and his robber band. But it was in these desperate emergencies that the wonderful resources of Sverre's mind became apparent. Though he often had to live on bark and frozen berries, which were dug up from under the snow, his courage never failed him. Though in his journeys through pathless mountain wildernesses, his men dropped dead about him from exposure and hunger, and he had to cover himself with his shield and allow himself to be snowed down, he kept a stout heart in his bosom and rebuked those who talked of suicide. It is told of him that during his march from Sweden to Nidaros, he came to a large mountain lake which it was necessary to cross. Rafts were made, but the men were so exhausted, that it took them a good while to fell the logs. One by one the rafts were launched and rowed across. Sverre himself boarded the last, but it was already so heavily loaded, that the water reached above his ankle. One man, however, who was half dead with weariness, had been left. He crawled down to the edge of the water and begged the king to take him along, as otherwise he must perish. The Birchlegs grumbled loudly, but Sverre commanded them to lay to and take the man aboard. The raft then sank still deeper and the king stood in the icy water up to his knees. It looked for awhile as if they would go to the bottom. But Sverre did not change a mien. They reached, at last, the further shore, where an enormous pine had fallen into the water. The men, eager for safety, scrambled over into the tree, and Sverre was the last to leave the raft, which, the moment his foot was off it, sank. This incident was regarded by the Birchlegs as a miracle, and strengthened their faith in Sverre's mission.

At last, after incredible hardships, Sverre arrived early in June, 1177, at the goal of his journey. He had then 120 men, but fortunately his message to Thelemark brought him a reinforcement of eighty more. With these he performed the most amazing manoeuvres—dodging a force of fourteen hundred men which the partisans of Erling had sent against him. He anticipated with ease what his enemies would do, while they never could form the remotest conception of what he meant to do. Therefore the peasant army scattered in its search for him, and was easily beaten in separate detachments. It seems incredible that with his 200 or 250 warriors he could have beaten six or seven times their number, and the explanation lies near, that many of the TrÖnders in secret sympathized with him, though fear of Erling deterred them from openly espousing his cause. Their success now gave the Birchlegs courage, and they thronged joyously out to Oere-thing, whither Sverre had summoned twelve representatives from each of the eight shires of TrÖndelag. Here he was proclaimed king of Norway (1177).

The rejoicings of the Birchlegs were however, a little premature. Erling Skakke was, by no means, dead yet, and he had no sooner heard of Sverre's performances in TrÖndelag than he gathered a large fleet and sailed northward to have a reckoning with him. Sverre did not care to meet the relentless earl just then, and he therefore sought refuge again in the mountains. For two years he led, most of the time, a life which no dog would have envied him; now descending into the valleys on foraging expeditions, now again retiring into the wilderness and suffering untold privations. Occasionally hunger drove him to play a practical joke on the peasants, surprising them as an uninvited guest at their Yule-tide feasts, sitting down with his Birchlegs at the banqueting boards and devouring their holiday fare. Altogether his hardships were not unrelieved by humor. Like Robin Hood and his Merry Men, he had pity on the small, and often dispensed a kind of rough justice to the great. His name was cursed from one end of the kingdom to the other; as he himself remarked, many believed him to be the devil incarnate. Nurses scared naughty children with the threat that Sverre would come and take them, and the girls when they pounded the wet clothes at the river brink never failed to wish that Sverre's head was under the pounder. At the same time, a certain admiration for the power of the man and his undauntable spirit can scarcely have failed to affect those who had not directly suffered by his depredations. His many battles and guerilla fights with King Magnus and his liegemen, his second and unsuccessful attempt to capture Nidaros, and his skirmishing with the peasants cannot here be described in detail, though the saga, which was prepared under his own supervision, enables us to follow all his movements with tolerable accuracy. It was not until June, 1179, that he fought a battle which gave a decisive turn to his future. Then, he made a sudden descent from Gauldale upon Erling, who was feasting in Nidaros.

"Would that it were true," said the earl, when the approach of the Birchlegs was announced to him; "they shall then get their deserts, but for that matter, we may sleep soundly to-night, for I have been told that they have already retired into the mountains, and Sverre will not venture to attack us, when we are watching for him, as we are doing now."

Accordingly he told his men to go to bed; and this they did in a condition which made it no easy task to wake them. When Sverre, who, as usual, was well informed, was about to make his attack, he addressed his men as follows:

"Now it is necessary to fight well and bravely; for a beautiful victory is to be won. I will tell you what you can now obtain by your bravery. He who can prove by truthful witnesses that he has slain a liegeman shall himself become a liegeman; and every man shall get the title and dignity of the man who falls by his hand."

The Birchlegs needed no further encouragement. Poorly armed though they were, they stormed down over the hill-sides into the city. One fellow who was rushing along with a wooden club in his hand was asked what he had done with his weapons.

"They are down in the town," he answered; "as yet, the earl's men have got them."

The alarm was now given, and bewildered and heavy with sleep, the earl's warriors tumbled out into the streets. King Magnus was also present, but the confusion was so great that he had much difficulty in rallying his followers.

Many of the chieftains advised Erling to flee on board his ships and make his escape.

"I don't deny," he answered, "that that might seem to be the best; but I can't endure the thought that that devil of a priest, Sverre, should put himself in my son's place."

He therefore retired outside the city to Kalvskindet and there awaited the attack; but though his force was far greater than Sverre's, he could not maintain himself against the furious onslaught of the Birchlegs. After a brief defence the earl was slain, and the flight became general. King Magnus, when he saw his father's bloody face upturned against the sky, paused in his flight, stooped down and kissed him.

"We shall meet again, father mine, in the day of joy," he said, and hastened reluctantly away.

Great was the rejoicing among the Birchlegs when it became known, that Earl Erling was dead. Sverre, who rarely missed a chance to make a speech, and who, moreover, was duly qualified for the office of conducting obsequies, made a funeral oration over his fallen foe. He drew the moral of the earl's life, and said some things which, no doubt, were true. But as he went on he gave more and more play to his caustic irony, and was, perhaps, less generous than he could have afforded to be in his judgment of the dead chieftain.

From this time forth, Sverre had the upper hand, and though the war lasted for several years more, it changed its character. It was no longer a fight between law and order on one side and a handful of outlawed adventurers on the other. It was rather a civil war between two well-matched parties. Personally Magnus was indeed no match for Sverre, but as the representative of the old order of things—a monarchy deriving its power and support from the tribal aristocracy,[A]—he was no mean opponent. With Sverre and his Birchlegs a lower stratum of society arose—an uncouth and hungry democracy,—demanding its share of the good things of life, which had not hitherto been within its reach. It is Sverre's merit that he knew how to discipline these fierce and greedy elements, and force them into subjection to law and order. While before the battle at Kalvskindet he stimulated their cupidity by offering each man the honors and dignities of the man whom he slew, he took good care, when the victory was won, to keep this cupidity within bounds. He kept his promises, raised men of low degree to high offices, rewarded fidelity and valor, and revolutionized society in a democratic spirit. But, considering the time in which he lived and the completeness of his victory, he showed remarkable moderation. He meant the new order of things which he founded to be lasting, and instead of turning his victorious Birchlegs loose to prey upon the state, he charged them with the maintenance of law and order, invested them with responsibility, and punished them if they exceeded their authority. He could do this without peril, because his men loved and admired him as much as they feared him. His power over them was complete. He had shared the evil days with them, braved dangers and hardships, and tested their manhood.

[A] Munch: Det Norske Folks Historie, iii., 107. Sars: Udsigt over den Norske Historie, ii., cap. iv.