The Story of Norway

by Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen

CHAPTER XXIII.

MAGNUS ERLINGSSON (1162-1184).

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.

THE RAFT SUND IN VESTFJORD, BETWEEN LOFOTEN AND VESTERAALEN ISLANDS.

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.

HORNELEN; A CLIFF ON THE ISLAND BREMANGERLAND AT THE MOUTH OF THE NORDFJORD.

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 manœuvres—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.

An intimate comradeship and attachment had grown up between them, which, however, did not exclude authority on one side, and respect and obedience on the other.

How much Magnus had lost by the battle of Kalvskindet is indicated by the fact that his adherents now get a party name and sink to the position formerly occupied by their opponents. They were called "Heklungs," because it was told of them that they had once robbed a beggar woman whose money was wrapped up in a cloak (hekl). "Birchlegs," from having been a term of reproach, now became an honorable appellation which Sverre's veterans were not a little proud of.[A]

[A] Munch: iii., 106.

Magnus spent the year after his defeat mostly in Bergen where he had many adherents, went thence to Viken, and made every effort to gather an army with which to destroy his enemies. He must have had considerable success, for when he went northward to Nidaros, he had a force much more numerous than the one Sverre could muster. Nevertheless he suffered an ignominious defeat at the Ilevolds (1180), near Nidaros, and had to flee head over heels to Bergen. Thither Sverre followed him, and came near being caught in a trap by one of Magnus' followers, Jon Kutiza, who came with an army of peasants to kill that "devil's priest." The devil's priest was, however, as usual, too clever for the Heklungs, and sent them flying, as soon as he lifted his sword. Magnus, in the meanwhile, had sought refuge in Denmark, where King Valdemar received him well, and this kingdom became the base of operations against Sverre. Long time did not elapse before the Heklungs were again on the way northward with thirty-two ships, and came within an ace of making an end of Sverre in the Saltö Sound; but as usual he slipped out of the trap by a daring stratagem. Soon after, Magnus overtook the Birchlegs at Nordness (1181), near Bergen, and this time Sverre, who was anxious not to lose his prestige, determined to stay and give battle, although his fleet was but half as large as that of his enemies. The Birchlegs were, as a rule, not good sailors, and never fought as well on the sea as on dry land. The Heklungs made a fierce onset, and were gradually gaining several advantages, when Sverre stepped forward where the fight was hottest, lifted his hands toward the sky, and sang in a loud, clear voice the Latin hymn, "Alma chorus domini." Hostile missiles beat like hail about him; but though he had no shield, he remained unharmed. Just then Magnus, flushed with warlike zeal, stormed forward and was on the point of boarding one of the hostile ships, when he received a wound through the wrist. The pain made him pause abruptly, and in so doing he slipped upon the bloody deck and fell backward. The Birchlegs sent up a tremendous shout of victory, and Orm King's-Brother (a half-brother of Harold Gille's sons), hearing that the king was slain, cried: "Then the fate of the realm is decided."

Instantly he cut the ropes which held the ships together, and, breaking the battle-line, fled as fast as he could. Magnus, getting on his feet, called vainly to his men that he was alive, and begged them not to flee from a victory. But the confusion soon became general, and Sverre, who was quick to take advantage of it, captured ship after ship and forced the rest into ignominious flight.

The war was still continued for three years with changing fortunes. In fact, Magnus, whenever he returned from Denmark, where he sojourned in the intervals between his defeats, seemed as formidable as ever, and had little difficulty in gathering an army under his banner. Sverre, therefore, in order to put an end to an internecine conflict which was draining the resources of the country, proposed to share the kingdom with him, and, when this proposal was rejected, that they should reign alternately for a term of three years each. This well-meant offer Magnus likewise repelled, and, after repeated interviews and fruitless negotiations, hostilities were resumed. Three times during the years 1181 and 1182 the Heklungs attacked Nidaros, where the Birchlegs had their head-quarters, and fought with variable success. In 1183 Sverre assumed again the offensive, surprised Magnus in Bergen, and compelled him to flee to Denmark, abandoning his fleet, his treasures, and the crown regalia. Archbishop Eystein, who had been one of the staunchest partisans of the Heklungs, had, some years before, fled to England, and had hoped to injure Sverre by declaring him in the ban of the church. Sverre was, however, not in the least disturbed by the ban, while the archbishop was greatly disturbed by the loss of his see. Perceiving that Magnus' chances of regaining his power were diminishing, the wily prelate opened negotiations with the excommunicated king and received him back into the bosom of the Church, on condition of being restored to his dignities.

A last attempt to recover what he had lost was made by Magnus in the summer of 1184. He then sailed northward to Bergen with a fleet of twenty-six ships and about three thousand two hundred men. He learned that Sverre had sailed up into the Norefjord (a narrow arm of the Sognefjord) with a few ships and a small force of men, for the purpose of punishing the Sognings, who had killed his prefect, Ivar Darre. Sverre was, as a rule, not easily surprised. But in the present instance he had not the faintest suspicion of danger until he saw the galleys of the Heklungs steering right down upon him. Escape was not to be thought of. He was shut in on all sides. The Heklungs, seeing that he had but fourteen ships, and that his force scarcely numbered more than half of theirs, were disposed to give thanks to God for having at last delivered their enemies into their hands. But it is sometimes a doubtful blessing to have such enemies as the Birchlegs delivered into one's hands. At all events, Magnus began to have doubts, as soon as battle had commenced, as to who were the captors and who the captives. The Birchlegs fought with heroism, and the Heklungs fell in great numbers and many leaped into the sea. Among the latter was King Magnus. It was midnight before the bloody work was at an end, and by that time two thousand men had lost their lives. All the ships of the Heklungs and much booty fell into Sverre's hands. When the morning broke there could be seen through the clear waters of the Sognefjord the corpses of slain chieftains lying outstretched on the bottom, while the fishes swam around them. The corpse of King Magnus was not found until two days after the battle, and was then taken to Bergen, where it was buried with great solemnity.

In the battle of Norefjord fell, beside the king, the flower of the Norse aristocracy. King Inge's son Harold, Orm King's-Brother and his son Ivar Steig, and a large number of proud chieftains, were among the slain. They had pinned their hope to King Magnus, and with his death their dominion was at an end. With Sverre Sigurdsson's reign begins a new epoch in the history of Norway.

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CHAPTER XXIV.

SVERRE SIGURDSSON (1182-1202).

It was a dangerous precedent Sverre established when, without any other proof of his royal birth than his own assertion, he ascended the throne of Norway. The prospect was thus opened to any ambitious adventurer, skilled in mendacity and the use of arms, to snatch the crown at the point of the sword. The mere fact that a doubt existed in the minds of many, as to Sverre's origin, was in itself demoralizing. It destroyed that bond of loyalty which had hitherto bound the people to the descendants of Harold the Fairhaired, and made it easy for unscrupulous pretenders, by the prospect of booty, to entice men into rebellion. We see, therefore, during Sverre's reign and that of his immediate successors, an abundant crop of pretenders and rebellious bands start up in different parts of the country, only to be cut down after a more or less extended existence by the constituted authority.

That Sverre, in a measure, had himself to thank for this state of things he must have been well aware; and the frequency of his insistence upon his mission to deliver Norway from the illegal sway of Erling Skakke's son shows how anxious he was, lest the same thought should occur to others. Even though he was the son of Sigurd Mouth (which, is indeed, probable), he must have seen that the people were suffering no hardships from Magnus' mild exercise of his power, while the wars which were directly and indirectly inflicted upon the realm by his own pretendership shook it to its very core. In the rôle of a deliverer Sverre was therefore scarcely sincere, and a certain insecurity in his position, springing, perhaps, from an inward doubt, made him at times appear with less dignity than we might expect in a man of his genius and power. Thus, when in 1181 a man named Erik, whose origin seems wrapped in obscurity, obtained permission to prove by ordeal that he was Sigurd Mouth's son, Sverre insisted upon inserting in his oath the words "and Sverre's brother," thereby obtaining, as it were, a surreptitious proof of his own descent from the royal house. Erik, however, objected to assuming this double responsibility, but succeeded in proving the truth of his assertion in regard to himself. He was from this time named Erik Kingsson; but pledged himself never to aspire to the crown. Sverre gave him first command of his household troops and made him later Earl of Viken.

Sverre's first endeavor, after having become sole ruler in the land, was to strengthen the foundation of his throne. An alliance with the aristocracy who had hitherto wielded the greatest influence was out of the question, first because the magnates had been the partisans of Magnus, and secondly, because to the Birchlegs, to whom Sverre owed his power, such an alliance would have been odious. He therefore determined to seek the supports of his kingship among the same class, from which his Birchlegs had come, viz., the tenants, small farmers, and, in general, among the lower strata of the population. These men had hitherto been at the mercy of the chieftains; and though it was in the interest of the latter not to injure or maltreat them, their position was one of dependence and penury. They were practically beyond the pale of the law; because, if wronged by one of their superiors they lacked the means and influence to prosecute him at the thing. In order to improve the position of these lowly people and thereby gain their friendship, Sverre appointed a new class of officers, the so-called lawmen, whose business it should be to procure justice for the oppressed at small expense and without delay. As one of the first appointed lawmen, Gunnar Grjonbak in Tröndelag, said: "King Sverre, when he gave me this office, bade me administer justice among cottagers, not among chieftains." The lawmen were thus judges who, backed by the authority of the crown, were charged with the interests of the small, both in their mutual quarrels and in their quarrels with the great. That their appointment was a shrewd act, on Sverre's part, is obvious.

Another class of officers who, though they were not first appointed by Sverre, had more definite functions and duties assigned to them by him, were the prefects (syslu-madr[A]). They were not, like the liegemen, royal vassals who held land in fief and exercised independent authority, but servants of the king and the representatives of his power.[B] They collected the royal revenues in their districts, and watched over the interests of the crown. They thus deprived the liegemen of their principal functions and a large share of their income. As a measure intended to weaken the influence of the aristocracy, the appointment of these prefects was therefore most effective. Sverre was not minded to share his power with these haughty magnates, many of whom had not hesitated to barter away provinces and enter into alliances with foreign princes against their own king. He wished the crown to be strong enough to curb this unruly element, and by the aid of the small prevent the great from growing above his head. With great shrewdness and statesmanlike insight he began this work, which in one way or another absorbed his time and energy during his entire reign.

[A] Vigfusson translates syslu-madr, "prefect, bailiff, king's steward"; but he also translates gjald-keri and ar-madr with steward, and in this case correctly. The only English term I know for an officer whose functions correspond approximately to those of the syslu-madr is prefect, as the office now exists in France. Even this term is, however, imperfect.

[B] Munch, iii., 108.

Seeing that the king meant to deprive them of their ancient privileges, the remnants of the liegemen's party began to look about for a new pretender, whom they could put in the field against Sverre. Such a one was soon found in the person of a monk named Jon, who professed to be a son of King Inge Crookback. Though his story was evidently mendacious, there gathered about him a considerable band, which received the name Kuvlungs or Cowlmen. Not all the former adherents of Magnus did, by any means, join this band, but yet a sufficient number to make it formidable. Now began the usual depredations along the coast, attacks upon Bergen and Nidaros, indecisive fights and sudden retreats, occasional victories, and a great deal of destructive guerilla warfare. There was a suspicion that Archbishop Eystein, who hated Sverre, was the power that kept the Kuvlungs in motion, and it was obvious that he secretly favored them. The archbishop, however, died in 1188 having, as Sverre asserted, made peace with him on his death-bed. Soon after, the rebel band was destroyed in Bergen (1188) and their leader slain.

If Sverre had expected to sit at ease in the enjoyment of his power, he must by this time have been undeceived. He had indeed sown the wind, and he reaped the whirlwind. No sooner were the Kuvlungs out of the way than a new band, called the Varbelgs (Wolf Skins), was organized by the chieftain Simon Kaaresson, who picked up a pretender in the person of a child, named Vikar. This boy, who was but a few years old, was born in Denmark, and was alleged to be a son of King Magnus Erlingsson. But the deception was a little too barefaced to gain credence, and the Varbelgs came to an inglorious end at Bristein, near Tunsberg (1190), where both the little Vikar and Simon Kaaresson were slain. Rebellion had by this time grown so popular that any plausible impostor, who chose to take the risks, might expect to gain a considerable number of adherents. The many who were unable or indisposed to put up with the new order of things, preferred to stake all on a desperate chance rather than submit meekly to the terms of Sverre's amnesty. It was, therefore, of small consequence who headed the rebellion; the rebellious spirit which was abroad was sure to find expression, and was never in want of a leader. The successors of the Varbelgs were called Oyeskeggs (the Islanders), because their band was recruited largely from the Orkneys, where Earl Harold favored them. Their chieftains were Hallkel Jonsson, a brother-in-law of King Magnus, Sigurd Jarlsson, an illegitimate son of Erling Skakke, and Olaf, a brother-in-law of Earl Harold, of the Orkneys. All these had nominally submitted to Sverre and had received many favors at his hands. Nay, even after they had hatched their conspiracy, Olaf continued to act as the king's friend and sit at his table. Sverre was, however, not deceived by his duplicity. One day when they were talking together the king said: "Thou, Olaf, oughtest to have been faithful to me."

"Why do you say that, my lord?" asked Olaf.

The king, instead of answering directly, made a thrust with his knife in the air and said: "The followers of our foes are now swarming about us."

At this the traitor took alarm and quickly left the hall. Outside he met his foster-son Sigurd, who was said to be a son of King Magnus, and was later pushed into the rôle of a pretender by the Oyeskeggs.

"There we narrowly escaped a trap, foster-son," said he, as he took the boy by the hand and hurried away. He immediately set sail for the Shetland Islands, where he could mature his plans without interference. In the summer of 1193 he appeared with Hallkel and Sigurd Jarlsson and a large flock of rebels in Viken, where shire after shire submitted to them without resistance. There were, probably, no royal troops in Viken at this time, and the inhabitants, who had formerly been partisans of King Magnus, had not recently acquired any deep sense of loyalty to Sverre. When provisions became scarce, the rebel chieftains went aboard their ships and began to prey upon the shipping in the Belts. In this way they gained such large amounts of goods and money that they became known as the "Goldlegs" (Gullbeiner). In the autumn of 1193 they sailed northward, full of courage, hoping soon to make an end of Sverre, who was understood to have but few people about him. They met him at Florsvaag, near Bergen, and prepared for battle. His force amounted to about twelve hundred men, while the Oyeskeggs had two thousand. As it was too late to fight, when the fleets first approached each other, Sverre betook himself to the city with a few followers in order to get reinforcements. On his way back, it occurred to him that it might be a good plan to pay the rebels a visit. In a small boat he rowed stealthily, under cover of the darkness, up to the ship where the chieftains were having a council of war, and had the pleasure of hearing Hallkel Jonsson unfold the whole plan of the battle. He took his own measures accordingly, and by his well-calculated manœuvres frustrated their plans. The battle was, however, a bloody one, and fiercely contested. It looked badly for the Birchlegs for a while, but the arrival of ninety well-armed men from the city decided the day in Sverre's favor. The king of the Oyeskeggs leaped overboard, but was pierced by a spear while he was swimming shoreward. All the rebel chieftains, except Sigurd Jarlsson, and nearly all the men were slain (1194).

While thus indefatigably engaged in quelling rebellion, Sverre had another struggle on his hands which made even heavier demands upon his vigilance and energy. The church is not apt to look with favor upon one who deserts it, even for a throne, and the fact that the king had been admitted to the lowest order of the priesthood, so far from reconciling the priests to his authority, placed them in a hostile attitude to him. In spite of this, however, there is little doubt but that he could have bought their friendship by making the proper concessions. If he had been willing to ratify the agreement between Archbishop Eystein and Erling Skakke, hold his crown in fief from St. Olaf, which was but another name for the hierarchy, and give the bishops the right to exact similar conditions from his successors, his former deaconship would have proved no obstacle to his receiving the support of the Church. Sverre knew, however, too well the spirit of the priesthood to venture upon such concessions. It was his policy to make the monarchy strong enough to quell the unruly spirit of the aristocracy and give peace and security to the people. The Church had from the beginning taken sides against him, and secretly or openly aided every band of rebels which had endeavored to overthrow his government. No wonder that, apart from all other considerations, he was not favorably disposed toward the Church.

When Archbishop Eystein died, after having made a pretended peace with the king, Bishop Erik, of Stavanger, was elected as his successor. It is said that Eystein, on his death-bed, obtained Sverre's reluctant consent to this choice. At all events, Erik was chosen, and was no sooner warm in his seat, than he showed his disposition toward the king. Without consulting Sverre, he named for his successor to the bishopric of Stavanger one of his bitterest enemies, Nicholas Arnesson, a half-brother of King Inge Crookback. Sverre naturally objected, first because Nicholas had never taken orders, secondly because his election had taken place in an illegal manner, the king having not been present. For all that, he agreed in the end to waive his objections, because his queen, Margaret (a sister of the Swedish king, Knut Eriksson), interposed in Nicholas' behalf. The latter, who was a master of intrigue, had, by his humility and flatteries, gained the favor of the queen, and even Sverre, who was ordinarily a keen judge of men, was made to waver in his distrust of him. He was, however, soon to have his eyes opened. As soon as Nicholas had received his investiture, he again joined the ranks of the king's enemies, making common cause with the archbishop, who was indefatigably quarrelling with Sverre about the alleged prerogatives of his office. First, he wanted the fines and penances, payable to the Church in Tröndelag, to be rendered according to actual weight in silver, and not in the coin of the realm, which was but worth half its nominal value. Secondly, he wished to reserve for himself and his fellow bishops the right of making all clerical appointments, and thirdly, he claimed the privilege of surrounding himself with a kind of ecclesiastical court, and keeping ninety to one hundred men-at-arms in his service, although the law only allowed him thirty. To settle these points, Sverre summoned the archbishop to Frosta-thing, and, after having read him the law, decided against him. Full of wrath, the haughty prelate left the country, seeking refuge with Archbishop Absalon in Denmark, who received him cordially. Here he composed a letter to the Pope in which he bitterly complained of the king's usurpations and infringements of the rights of the Church. The Pope responded by putting Sverre in the ban and releasing his subjects from their oath of allegiance. Before the bull reached Norway, however, Sverre had induced the bishops, remaining in the country, to crown him at Bergen (June 29, 1194). Even Bishop Nicholas, who had recently been transferred from Stavanger to Oslo, had participated in this ceremony, though probably much against his will. Sverre treated the papal bull, at first, as a mere fraudulent invention of archbishops, Erik and Absalon, but that he was far from believing this to be the case is shown by the fact that he sent embassadors to Rome to present counter charges against the archbishop, and to explain the causes of the controversy from his point of view. As far as we know these embassadors accomplished nothing, and on their homeward way they died suddenly in Denmark (1197), having probably been poisoned. Soon after, a falsified papal bull was published by Sverre, in which the ban was revoked. It is not improbable that he was himself responsible for this falsification. It was a question of "to be or not to be" with him, and he had been long enough connected with the Church to know how to soothe his conscience in such a matter. It is, moreover, scarcely credible that any one else would have committed the fraud in his favor.

Seeing that they could not destroy Sverre by spiritual weapons only, his enemies resorted once more to the sword, and this time chance played into their hands in a most remarkable manner. The Byzantine emperor Alexius sent, in 1195, a Norseman named Reidar the Messenger (Sendemand), to Norway to hire him 200 mercenaries, and Sverre, though he was of opinion that Norway had no troops to spare, was persuaded to permit the emperor's emissary to enlist such as desired to follow him. Reidar went to work without delay and gathered a considerable force, but in the meanwhile Bishop Nicholas had approached him and induced him to enter into a league for the overthrow of Sverre's government. Next to Nicholas himself, the most important man in the league was Sigurd Jarlsson, the son of Erling Skakke, and formerly a chief of the Oyeskeggs. A boy named Inge, alleged to be the son of King Magnus Erlingsson, was their candidate for the throne. The band received the name of Bagler, i.e., Crookmen, after bagall, a crook or bishop's staff. They were, owing to the accession of Reidar's mercenaries, much more formidable than any of the former bands which had risen in rebellion against Sverre. In the first battle which the king fought with them, they had no less than 125 ships and 5,000 men. This encounter, which took place in Saltö Sound, in Viken (1196), was indecisive, though some advantage seems to have been gained by the Baglers. At all events, Sverre dared not remain in Viken, but steered northward to Nidaros, leaving the rebels masters of all the southern provinces. They had here the sympathy of the population, and experienced no difficulty in having the pretender Inge proclaimed king at Borgar-thing. Sverre, in the meanwhile, levied troops in the northern provinces, and in the summer of 1197 attacked the rebels at Oslo, where they suffered a crushing defeat. Here his prudent foresight and strategic skill insured him a splendid success, while Nicholas showed himself a cowardly braggart, devoid of generalship. He tried to make his men believe that the swords of the Birchlegs would not bite, because they were in the ban, and when this lie had been effectually disproved, the bishop was among the first to take to his heels.

"Ride forth hard now, my lord," one of the Baglers called to him. "Our men sorely need your help and exhortation; for, methinks, in sooth, that the swords of the Birchlegs bite pretty well."

"No, let us ride away as fast as we can," Nicholas made answer; "for now the Devil is loose."

After the battle the prelate sent a priest to Sverre with offers of peace; but the latter, who knew the treacherous character of his foe, would not treat with him, unless he appeared in person. He promised him safe-conduct, averring that he had other means of gaining fame than by killing a man like him. Nicholas made no response to this proposition; but instead of presenting himself before the king, hastened with his men overland to Nidaros, attacked the city, burned Sverre's fleet, which was lying in the fjord, and besieged the block-house, which finally fell by the treason of its commander, Thorstein Kugad. This was a severe blow to the king, and placed him in the subsequent contest at a great disadvantage. To meet the rebels on the sea with the small ships which were now left to him, was hazardous, as the battle of Thorsberg, near the mouth of the Drontheim fjord, during the following year plainly showed (1198). The Birchlegs were here worsted, in spite of their splendid bravery, and many of the king's staunchest friends and adherents were slain. Sverre hastened thence to Bergen, where the Bagler chief, Sigurd Jarlsson, in the meanwhile had been raging with fire and sword. He had burned those of Sverre's ships which he had found in the harbor, as well as the houses of the Birchlegs in the city, and he now laid siege to the block-house, where Queen Margaret was with all her household. As this rude fort was built of wood, his first intention was to fire it, and he began, for this purpose, to pile up wood for an enormous bonfire close to the walls. Sigurd Borgarklett, the commander of the fort, succeeded in lighting the wood-pile, before it was large enough to do any harm. The Baglers began to pile up wood once more, but again the besieged flung burning barrels of tar down upon them and drove them off. After many fruitless attempts, Sigurd Jarlsson gave up the plan of firing the block-house.

THORGHÄTTEN, A FAMOUS ISLAND WITH A NATURAL TUNNEL, IN NORDLAND.

It was not, however, only his enemies without, who gave Sigurd Borgarklett trouble. The queen, at the sight of the fire, grew frantic and insisted upon surrendering; and all her women surrounded the brave commander, tearfully imploring him not to expose them to being burned alive. A friend of Sverre, named Aura-Paul, to whose care the queen had especially been entrusted, feared that the lamentations of the women might have a discouraging effect upon the garrison, and in order to save the commander from their importunities, he persuaded them to enter the room above the gate, which had been used as a jail, and there await the issue of the negotiations with the Baglers. To this they readily consented; and were forthwith locked up, with full permission to wail to their hearts' content. When, however, the danger from fire was past, Aura-Paul went to the queen and asked her, what she would give him if he could induce the Baglers to depart. She offered him a great sum of money; whereupon he begged the loan of her seal. He now sat down and wrote a letter in the queen's name to two priests in the city, urging them to use every means in their power to detain the enemy, as the king was coming with a large force the next day and would be sure to make an end of them. This communication he despatched by a small boy who managed to be caught by the Baglers and, on being searched, had to deliver up the letter. Sigurd Jarlsson, without suspecting the deceit, hurried away as fast as he could, not, however, without having punished the two priests, who, though professing friendship for him, yet were in communication with the queen. This was regarded by the Birchlegs as a delightful joke; for the priests were, like most of their order, enemies of the king. But to make this comedy of errors complete, Sverre did actually, to the surprise of his friends, arrive on the day appointed in the letter. Nevertheless, it was fortunate that Sigurd Jarlsson had taken to his heels; for the main force of the Baglers were pursuing the king southward, and if the two divisions had effected a junction in Bergen, Sverre would scarcely have been able to hold his own against them.

The summer of 1198, which became known among the people as the Bergen summer, was passed by the hostile armies in and about the latter city, and there was almost an incessant skirmishing, besides some hard fighting. A battle at the Jonvolds resulted in favor of the Birchlegs, but was not decisive enough to destroy the Baglers' power of resistance.

The summer passed, neither party gaining any decided advantage. Then Bishop Nicholas, despairing of destroying the Birchlegs as long as they had the town to fall back upon, determined to deprive them of this shelter. He accordingly set fire to the town and burned the greater part of it. The Birchlegs had enough to do in saving the block-house, and could give but little aid to the citizens in their efforts to limit the conflagration. It is doubtful, however, if the Baglers gained any thing by this unwarrantable destruction, for the citizens of Bergen, a large number of whom had been favorably inclined toward them, became from this day their enemies. Sverre was, indeed, compelled to abandon his position, leaving, however, a garrison in the block-house. But the Baglers scarcely profited by his departure, as the country round about had been denuded of provisions, and want compelled them to move. Bishop Nicholas then sailed northward to Nordmöre and Haalogaland, where he met with no opposition; and desertion from the ranks of the Birchlegs increased his army until its very magnitude caused him embarrassment. Oddly enough, at this very time, when the king's fortune was at its lowest ebb, the traitor, Thorstein Kugad, who had surrendered the block-house in Nidaros, returned to him. He flung himself at Sverre's feet, embraced his knees, and cried:

"Happy I am now, my lord, that I am so near you—that I can touch you. * * * Dear my lord, receive me, and let me never more part from you."

Though his former comrades demanded his death, Sverre gave him full pardon. The king's desperate position was indeed sufficient guaranty of the sincerity of Thorstein's repentance. The whole country, outside of Tröndelag, was now in the hands of the rebels. The royal fleet was burned, and even many of the veteran Birchlegs had deserted. Then, as the final crushing blow, came the bull of Pope Innocent III., laying the country under interdict, prohibiting the celebration of public worship and the administration of the sacraments, in all those parts of the kingdom that yet remained faithful to Sverre. If the vicar of Christ had contented himself with hurling the thunderbolt of divine wrath against the king, he might perhaps have achieved his destruction. But the Pope, finding that the bull of his predecessor had been practically ineffective, aimed this time to affect the popular conscience, and he addressed to it certain arguments which showed how completely he had allowed himself to be deceived by Sverre's enemies. In his bull he described the king in a manner which must have appeared absurd to those who knew him; he attributed to him crimes which all knew that he had never committed; and exposed thereby—not Sverre's wickedness, but his own fallibility and partisanship. The king, instead of meekly submitting to an unfair sentence, felt, therefore, justified in coming forward in his own defence. He wrote or caused to be written, under his immediate supervision, a polemical brochure, in which he reviewed his relation to the Church and ably defended his conduct. The behavior of the clergy he subjected to a scathing criticism, showed the inconsistency of their position, as the partisans of Baglers, and exposed the true motive of their actions. The author's shrewdness, ability, and learning are manifest in every page, and the lucidity of expression and the plain common-sense arguments seem to reveal the well-known personality of Sverre. That it had the effect of preventing many from leaving him, who otherwise might have been frightened into desertion, is very probable. The disloyal clergy had, however, better facilities for reaching the people than the few who were yet faithful, and they improved their opportunity in inciting the peasants to an unreasoning, fanatical hostility to the excommunicated king. The Pope, in the meanwhile, was active in stirring up foreign enemies against him, and wrote the most urgent letters to the kings of Sweden and Denmark, exhorting them to merit the gratitude of God and his vicar, the Pope, by destroying the sacrilegious monster, Sverre. Happily, these exhortations had no effect; for King Knut of Denmark had his hands full at home, and King Sverke of Sweden was rather favorably inclined toward his neighbor.

In this desperate strait Sverre's true greatness revealed itself. He had been accustomed to fight against heavy odds, and the sense of danger served to bring all his energies into play. With undaunted resolution he set to work to repair his losses and to equip himself once more to meet his foes. His first task was to build a fleet instead of the one which the Baglers had destroyed; for without ships he would have been at their mercy. The Trönders whom he called upon for help assisted him faithfully; and by the beginning of spring (1199) he had eight large galleys ready to be launched. Besides these he expected a number of others which the peasants were building for him throughout Tröndelag. The city of Nidaros he fortified with a large new block-house, and built hurling-machines which were used for throwing stones at the enemy. Early in June the Baglers appeared in the fjord with a large fleet, and the usual skirmishing commenced. All their efforts to capture the city were, however, unavailing, and in the battle at Strindsö (June, 1199) their great fleet, which had formerly given them an advantage over the Birchlegs, fell into Sverre's hands. The battle was stubbornly contested, and both parties were wrought up to a warlike fury which refused to give or to take quarter. The king, whose gentleness and humane sentiments had made his stern resolution and courage the more admirable, put here a blot upon his fair name. He yielded to the importunities of his men, and allowed them to avenge the death of their kinsman upon the prisoners. It is but fair to ascribe this single act of cruelty to the momentary ferment of his blood and the hate that flared up uncontrollably against the authors of all his misfortunes.

After the battle of Strindsö the Baglers fled southward with the few ships that were left to them, and were pursued by Sverre, who did not, however, succeed in overtaking them. They found, as usual, a refuge in Denmark, where they continued to plot mischief. They felt themselves, in point of strength and resources, so superior to Sverre that it seemed to them merely a question of time, when they should gain possession of the entire land. Even in Nidaros, where the king was yet able to hold his own, the rebels had many sympathizers among the clergy. After his victory at Strindsö, Sverre sailed southward and went into winter-quarters in Oslo. The Baglers took advantage of his absence to visit Nidaros where they fought indecisively with an army of 1,800 peasants who undertook to defend the city. In the meanwhile a storm was drawing up over Sverre's head more menacing than any which he had hitherto weathered. The preaching of the disloyal clergy was beginning to show its effects. The peasants of Viken and the Oplands rose in rebellion, and poured in great torrents toward Oslo, for the purpose of destroying the excommunicated king. From three different directions their armies came marching, intending to effect a junction near the city, and by their greatly superior numbers overwhelm Sverre. The king had then only three thousand men, while the forces of the peasants, all told, must have numbered forty or fifty thousand. To fight against such odds would seem to be simple madness. Nevertheless he determined to sell his life dearly. Never did his genius shine more brightly than in the hour of danger. Calmly and confidently he addressed his men, assigning to each commander his task, and exhorting his Birchlegs to be brave, and to trust in God. Then, by a series of swift manœuvres, he prevented the junction of the hostile armies, leaving his sons, Sigurd Lavard and Haakon, to guard his rear, while he engaged and defeated the two main divisions of the peasant army. The force under Sigurd and Haakon, which only numbered four hundred and eighty men, had in the meanwhile been routed by the third division, numbering twenty-four hundred, and the king would have had small chance of escape, if the peasants had had the wit to follow up their advantage. Instead of that they began carousing in the city, and even refrained from firing the royal fleet, which was in their power, because they regarded it already as their own. When, however, the sanguinary battle which was in progress out on the ice was at an end, the hilarious peasants discovered their mistake. Sverre came, not as vanquished, but as victor. Then there was hurly-burly of battle once more—fight, flight, and pursuit. The yeomen, sturdy fellows though they were, and not unaccustomed to war, lacked discipline, and above all they lacked a competent commander. Sverre chased them so hotly that they had to fling away their shields and trust for safety to their speed alone.

HÖNEFOSS.

The exhausted Birchlegs had now need of rest, and the king ordered the famous loor Andvake to be blown, and gathered the army about him. Food and drink were brought from the city and the hungry warriors were about to refresh themselves, when they perceived that the fugitives of the several peasant armies had united, and were returning to challenge once more the fortune of battle. The rebels had discovered that they were yet, with a proper plan of attack, formidable enough to destroy the Birchlegs. Their chief purpose now was to kill Sverre, because they supposed that if he were dead, the resistance of his party would soon collapse. Reluctant though they were to fight again, the Birchlegs responded bravely to their king's exhortation. They stormed down to the frozen fjord, where the peasants were forming their battle line, and made a fierce onset. Sverre, as was his wont, rode about among them, was now at the front, now in the rear, and with his clear eye directed each manœuvre. The peasants, when they saw him, cried out: "Stab him, hew him down, kill him, cut his horse from under him." And from all sides resounded hoarsely the shout: "Stab him, kill him." But in their eagerness to slay Sverre, they neglected to preserve order. Their battle array broke up into a series of wild and irregular charges, the weak points of which Sverre was not slow to detect. The Birchlegs rushed in among them and routed them with great carnage. A liegeman, named Aale Hallvardsson, whom the rebels mistook for the king, because he was similarly dressed, fell after a brave defence, and an exultant shout was heard, that the king was slain. The Birchlegs were for a moment stricken with terror, and stopped in their pursuit. But suddenly Sverre came dashing forward on his horse; the warriors rallied joyously about him, the loor was blown for a fresh attack, and at the head of his men the king charged once more and broke the last resistance of the discomfited peasants.

This was the greatest victory that Sverre ever won, and altogether one of the most extraordinary battles ever fought in Norway. For the peasants a day of accounting was now at hand, and the king made them feel the heavy hand of his wrath. A policy of gentleness and amnesty they would have mistaken for fear; only severity could inspire them with respect. Many farms were burned and great fines in money and provisions were exacted from those who had taken part in the rebellion. One incident will suffice to show, however, how little Sverre's heart was in this work. As he was approaching a farm, a little boy came running out of the woods and begged him piteously not to burn his home.

"Nay, surely it shall be spared, since thou askest," answered Sverre, gently; "and if the peasants had stayed at home and begged for peace, no farm would have been burned. Tell them now, that the rest will be spared."

Forthwith he gave orders to his men to refrain from further destruction.

The heroic endurance which Sverre had developed in this long and exhausting struggle had indeed weakened the cause of the Baglers, but had by no means deprived them of their courage. A civil war and particularly a war of classes, such as this was, arouses fiercer hates and passions than international contests, and must therefore continue, until one party or the other is utterly humbled or destroyed. The Norse magnates, who formed the bone and sinew of the Bagler party, hated Sverre, not only because they believed him to be an upstart and an adventurer, but as the destroyer of the old oligarchic government, in which they had secured the lion's share of power. A class, so formidably intrenched both in the institutions and the traditions of the country, could not be overthrown at one blow; nor could it be humbled by misfortunes and reverses. It was not in his clerical capacity, but as the most eminent representative of the old aristocracy, that Bishop Nicholas became their leader; and the adherence of the clergy to the Bagler party was not so much the result of a personal sympathy with him, as of a common animosity to the democratic king, the leveller of distinctions, the champion of the rabble. These proud descendants of the great historic families of Norway were of the same blood as the Norman nobility of England, and though they did not live in castles, nor dress in satin and ermine, yet they were animated by the same spirit. They were ready to fight for their rights, whether real or imagined, even against their own king and country.

In the spring of 1201 Sverre called fresh levies from the ever faithful North, and sailed again southward, leaving a garrison in Bergen under the command of his friend, Dagfinn Peasant, and his son-in-law Einar, surnamed the Priest. He learned that the Bagler chief, Reidar Messenger, with about two hundred and forty men had taken possession of the block-house at Tunsberg, and he thought the opportunity a favorable one for annihilating one of his most dangerous enemies. To this end he laid siege to the block-house, which, however, from its situation on the mountain, overlooking the town, was wellnigh impregnable. His attempt to take it by storm failed, and his various ingenious stratagems were likewise unsuccessful. After a siege of twenty weeks, the Baglers were reduced to such a strait that for their Christmas dinner they had to eat boiled and chopped ropes, made out of walrus and sealskin. They could not endure this long; one by one they began to desert, in the dead of night, and instead of being slain, as they expected, they were received with kindness by the king. The Birchlegs grumbled loudly at his forbearance, but he rebuked them sternly, and they had to own that he was right. Last of all came Reidar Messenger with the little band that had remained with him. Sverre not only spared his life, but he treated him with the greatest consideration. He warned the Baglers not to eat too heartily after their long fast, and cared for those among them who were ill. Many who disregarded his advice died; while others dragged themselves through life with ruined health. The chief himself also suffered much, although Sverre exerted all his medical skill to cure him.

The incessant hardships of war and the strain upon his energies which they involved had, in the meanwhile, undermined the king's strength, and he was after a while compelled to take to his bed. When he left Tunsberg in January or February, 1202, he had his bed made on the raised poop of the deck, and that of the Bagler chief was placed at his side. And there lay, side by side, the conqueror and the conquered, gazing up into the wintry sky, and watching the clouds that chased each other under the wind-swept vault. Often they talked pleasantly together, and each learned to admire the remarkable qualities of the other. Reidar, who had been a crusader, told of his adventures and observations in Constantinople, and the Holy Land; and the days passed quickly to the king, while he listened to the entertaining narrative. On the arrival of the fleet in Bergen, the king was moved to the royal mansion where his bed was made in the great hall. When he felt that his death was near, he called some of his trusted friends to him and declared solemnly, in their presence, that he had but one son living, namely Haakon, and if any one else claimed to be his son, he was a rebel, and an impostor. Then he ordered a letter, which he had dictated to Haakon, to be read and sealed, and he charged his nephews, Haakon Galen, and Peter Steyper, to deliver it into his hands.

"I wish," he said, "before receiving the extreme unction, to be lifted into my high-seat, and there await life or death."

When the sacrament, in spite of his excommunication, had been administered to him, he continued: "My kingship has brought me more tribulation, disquietude, and danger, than ease and pleasure, and methinks that mere envy has impelled many to become my enemies, which sin may God now forgive them, and judge between them and me and in my whole cause."

King Sverre expired March 9th, 1202. He was in point of genius the greatest king who has ever ruled over Norway. A bright, clear, and resolute spirit dwelt within his small frame. His presence of mind and his wonderful fertility of resource saved him out of the most desperate situations. Firmness, and gentleness were admirably united in his character. A clear-sighted policy, based upon expediency as well as upon conviction, governed his actions from the beginning of his reign to its end. He possessed the faculty of attaching men to him, even when he punished them and restrained their lawless passions. Though he did not possess the beauty or the magnificent physical presence of the earlier kings of Norway, he knew how to inspire respect as well as love. The charm of his conversation, and his affability of manner impressed every one who came in contact with him. "What especially makes his personality interesting," says Munch,[A] "is the remarkable mingling of seriousness and humor, which seems to be peculiar to the Norse national character, and which, in his demeanor, was so striking that he may almost be regarded as its embodiment."

[A] Munch, iii., 391.

In many respects he was much in advance of his age. Thus, it is told of him that, so far from regarding the national vice, drunkeness, as an amiable weakness, for which no man was any the worse, he endeavored earnestly to check it, and punished with severity those who committed excesses under the influence of drink. As far as his constant occupation with war permitted him, he encouraged trade and all industrial pursuits. For learning he had a high regard; was himself a good Latin scholar and well read in the law, and displayed much zeal in procuring for his sons the best educational advantages that the time afforded. In spite of the hardships and dangers, to which he was constantly exposed, he lived to be fifty years old,—an age which, since the death of Harold the Fairhaired, but one king of Norway had reached.

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CHAPTER XXV.

HAAKON SVERRESSON (1202-1204).

In his dying message to his son Sverre advised him to make peace with the Church. He foresaw that the interdict which was weighing heavily upon the land would be an increasingly powerful weapon in the hands of the Baglers, and would continue to alienate the hearts of the people from the king. Haakon, who had not personally been engaged in the controversy, could, without loss of dignity, make overtures for a reconciliation, and might, if necessary, make concessions. The bishops were, however, so tired of their long exile and dependence upon foreign bounty, that they accepted with eagerness his offer of peace and hastened to return to their bishoprics. What the terms of the reconciliation were we do not know. The old Archbishop Erik, who was now blind and decrepit, was especially glad to return home, as his patron, Archbishop Absalon, had recently died, and his position in Denmark, as a dependent of the king, was scarcely an agreeable one. No sooner had he set foot on Norse soil than he declared the interdict revoked, without even awaiting the Pope's consent—a rashness for which he was later rebuked by Innocent III. The Pope, however, though he no doubt enjoyed wielding the tremendous weapons of his wrath, acquiesced in the terms of the peace, and had no fault to find with the new king's attitude toward the Church. The fact was, Haakon Sverresson was a gentle and lovable character, who delighted in peace rather than war. All the people, weary of the long and bloody civil feud, felt drawn toward him and hastened to acknowledge him. After his proclamation as king at Oere-thing, and the revocation of the interdict, he was undisputed master of the land; and the star of the Baglers seemed forever to have set. Many of their influential chiefs deserted to Haakon; and their so-called king, Inge, was slain on an island in Mjösen by his own men and the peasants. Bishop Nicholas exchanged temporarily the helmet for the mitre, and kept as quiet as his restlessly intriguing mind would permit. Reidar Messenger had, after his capitulation at Tunsberg, sworn fidelity to Sverre, and meant to keep faith with his son. It seemed therefore that, at last, all dangers were removed, and that the young and popular king had a prospect of a long and happy reign. Then, as a bolt of lightning out of a sunny sky, came a calamity which suddenly plunged the country again into war and misery.

We have heard that Sverre married Margaret, the daughter of the Swedish king, Erik the Saint. He had with her no sons, but a daughter, Christina. His two sons, Sigurd Lavard, who died before his father, and Haakon, were born on the Faeroe Isles; and their mother was Astrid, the daughter of Bishop Roe. It is probable that Sverre was married to her, but it is told that he did not bring her to Norway, because she had been unfaithful to him. According to a tradition, however, she was brought to Norway by her son, who gave her a large estate near Nidaros and treated her with consideration and kindness. This act Haakon's step-mother, the queen-dowager Margaret, regarded as an insult to her, and determined to leave the country. Being a passionate and imperious woman, proud of her birth and relentless in her hate, she imagined that she was not accorded the honor that was her due at the court, and she particularly took offence because the king claimed precedence before her. Being averse to strife, he did his best to conciliate her, but with small success. The queen-dowager betook herself to Oslo with her daughter, intending thence to proceed to Sweden, where she owned large estates. The king, though he did not dispute her right to leave, denied her right to take with her his half-sister, whose natural guardian he was; and sent his cousin, Peter Steyper, to induce her to desist from her resolution. The queen, however, remained obdurate. She would not concede that Haakon had any right over her child. Finding threats and persuasion unavailing, Peter Steyper attempted a stratagem. He burst into the princess' room, while her mother was taking a bath, crying at the top of his voice that the Baglers had come to town. Christina implored him in terror to save her; whereupon he seized her in his arms and ran with her down to the piers, jumped on board of his ship, and set sail. The queen, as soon as she heard the noise, rushed into the street, and reached the pier just as the ship was gliding from its moorings. Beside herself with wrath, she screamed after the Birchlegs: "Would that I may live to see the day when I shall cause you as great a sorrow as you to-day have caused me."

Much more that she cried they did not hear, for her voice came more faintly to them through the wind, as the distance increased. From that day she hated the king, though it is by no means clear that he approved of Peter Steyper's violence. Finding her position in Sweden less agreeable than she had expected, she was soon induced to return to Norway, where she became a centre of mischievous intrigue. Among her partisans was the king's cousin, Haakon Galen, a son of Sigurd Mouth's daughter Cecilia and Folkvid the Lawman, a brave and reckless youth who was deeply in love with the queen's niece, Mistress Christina.[A] Over him the two women, both of whom were arch-plotters, had considerable influence, and the desire rose in them to put him on the throne in his cousin's place. King Haakon, who, if he had suspected his stepmother's design, would have been on his guard, furnished her now with the opportunity for accomplishing her evil purpose. He invited her and her daughter to his Yule-tide feast, offering her the high-seat at his own side. So far from being conciliated by this offer, the queen burst forth vehemently: "Long shall I remember how I sat in the high-seat with my lord, King Sverre, on Christmas Eve. Bring my greeting to King Haakon, and tell him that I shall not share his high-seat to-night."

[A] Not the same as the Princess Christina, Sverre's and Margaret's daughter.

The king was aggrieved at this rebuff, and sent a second message, begging her at least to allow his sister Christina to grace his feast by her presence. The messenger added that the king was very wroth.

"Does he suppose," cried Margaret, "that I do not remember how he caused my daughter to be torn away from me at Oslo, without his reminding me of it into the bargain?"

To everybody's surprise, however, she began to dress for the feast, and soon both mother and daughter entered the banqueting hall, where they were received with much honor.

The feast was a merry one and good cheer reigned in the hall. Toward the evening of the day after Christmas, however, the king began to feel indisposed, and grew worse as the night advanced. He had himself bled, but the illness made rapid progress, until he lost consciousness. His body turned blue and swelled up terribly. On New Year's Day, 1204, he died. It was evident that he had been poisoned, and the rumor soon got abroad that it was the queen who had killed him. Although Haakon Galen did his best to lead suspicion away from her, a general clamor arose that she should prove her innocence by carrying glowing irons. This the queen refused to do, and in consideration of her rank obtained permission to appoint a substitute who should submit to the ordeal in her place. This substitute, however, though he betrayed no fear of the result, was found to have been badly burned, and the belief now became general that the queen was guilty. The excitement against her was so great that Haakon Galen was obliged to conduct her secretly away from Nidaros, and to hide her in the house of one of his kinsmen in the country. Later she made her escape to Sweden, where she probably passed the rest of her days on her estates. Both the Princess Christina and her cousin Christina remained in Norway, the latter as Haakon Galen's mistress.

The death of Haakon Sverresson plunged the country in deep grief, not only because he was personally beloved, but because it was supposed that he left no issue.

The opportunity was now at hand for a new crop of pretenders to fight for the crown and spread once more anarchy and desolation over the land.

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CHAPTER XXVI.

GUTTORM SIGURDSSON (1204), AND INGE BAARDSSON (1204-1217).

The legitimate heir to the throne after Haakon's death was his nephew, Guttorm Sigurdsson, a son of his brother, Sigurd Lavard. In spite of his tender age, the Birchlegs made haste to elect him, with the understanding that Haakon Galen, with the title of earl, should conduct the government. There were, however, some of the Birchlegs who were dissatisfied with this arrangement, partly because they were jealous of Haakon Galen, partly because they felt that, in such troublous times, a king was needed, who should be something more than a name or a figure-head. The Baglers, too, strange to say, were ill at ease, because they feared that, Haakon Sverresson's restraining influence being removed, the Birchleg chiefs would give free rein to their passions of avarice and vengeance. Half in self-defence they, therefore, reorganized their troop under the leadership of an impostor, calling himself Erling Stonewall (Steinvegg), who pretended to be a son of King Magnus Erlingsson. A pretender of this name had, during the reign of Sverre, made some little stir, and had been imprisoned by King Knut of Sweden in a tower, whence he had escaped by means of a rope, made out of his bed-clothes. The rope proved, however, to be too short, and in letting himself drop to the ground, Erling broke his hip. He was overtaken, on his flight, by Sverre's men and in all probability slain. Nevertheless, it required audacity rather than proof of royal birth, in those days, to figure as a pretender; and the second Erling Stonewall, though probably few at first believed in him, soon had a considerable following. It was of no use that Bishop Nicholas opposed him, and urged his own nephew, Philip, a grandson of Harold Gille's queen, Ingerid, for the chieftainship. When Erling demanded the right to prove his birth by the ordeal of fire, the bishop told him bluntly that the result was in his hands. Under such circumstances, the pretender found it more to his advantage to make terms with the bishop and receive his assurance that the ordeal should turn out successfully. Erling, on his side, promised, when he became king, to make Philip his earl, and in other respects satisfied the prelate's demands. The latter had, in the meanwhile, by conferences with his peasants, ascertained that Philip's candidacy was regarded with great disfavor, because he neither had nor pretended to have a drop of royal blood. The peasants utterly refused to recognize him, and threatened to rebel, in case he was elected. It was therefore to the bishop's advantage to keep faith with Erling. The ordeal accordingly took place with great solemnity in the presence of the Danish king, Valdemar the Victorious, and proved successful. Erling was then proclaimed king, and received as a present from Valdemar a fleet of thirty fine ships. In return he recognized him as his feudal overlord and gave him hostages. The party of the magnates was thus faithful to its traditions, in sacrificing patriotism to private interests. With the aid of the powerful Danish king the party had, indeed, a good prospect of crushing the disheartened and disunited Birchlegs, who just at that time received a fresh blow in the death of their newly elected king. Christina, Haakon Galen's mistress, could not allow so slight an obstacle, as the life of a child, to stand between her and the goal of her wishes. If Guttorm were dead, her lover would have the best chance of succeeding him, being on his mother's side a grandson of Sigurd Mouth. It was, therefore, no mere accident that Guttorm died; and with all the symptoms of poisoning. He said that the "Swedish woman" had taken him upon her lap and stroked him caressingly over his whole body. Soon after he felt, as if needles were piercing his flesh, and before long he expired in great agony. Though Christina's guilt was obvious, her lover had yet sufficient influence to have the matter hushed up; and in order to give her the full benefit of his protection, he married her soon after. A meeting was now called in Nidaros to elect a new king. Earl Haakon, who was a favorite with the army, seemed to have every chance in his favor; and he would probably have been the choice of the Birchlegs, if Archbishop Erik had not opposed him, on account of his relation to Christina. The guilt thus defeated its own object. Several candidates were discussed, some of whom were related to Sverre only on his mother's side and thus had no consanguinity with the royal house. The most prominent among these was Peter Steyper, who had the additional advantage of having married a daughter of King Magnus Erlingsson. After long deliberations, the chiefs finally decided to leave the choice to the peasants, who would then be sure to stand by the king whom they themselves elected. The peasants were according summoned to Oere-thing where they conferred the royal dignity upon Inge Baardsson, a younger half-brother of Haakon Galen and like him, on the maternal side, a grandson of Sigurd Mouth. No sooner did the Baglers hear that the Birchlegs had chosen a new king than they started northward from Tunsberg, in order to test his mettle. The caution of Bishop Nicholas prevailed, however, over the counsel of the more warlike chiefs, and after some unimportant fights in and about Bergen, the rebels betook themselves to Denmark, where they had always a safe place of refuge. King Inge and Earl Haakon, therefore, found no opposition, when they visited Viken, and the peasants, though the great majority of them sympathized with the Baglers, had no scruple in swearing them allegiance. In fact, the long war was having a demoralizing influence upon the people, and its barbarizing effects began to be visible in many ways. To save their lives, the yeomen were obliged to feign friendship for every pretender who came along with his band, and swear him fidelity, or fly to the woods, leaving their farms a prey to the marauders. Even the ties of blood which had been exceptionally strong among the Norsemen, began to be disregarded, as members of the same family were impelled, by diverging interests, to join different parties. It was no rare occurence that brother fought against brother, and father against son. Thus it is told of a Bagler that during the attack upon Nidaros in 1206, he was hotly pursuing a Birchleg whom he finally killed. As he stooped over the dying man, in order to deprive him of his arms and garments, he discovered that it was his own brother. A great laxity in all moral obligations resulted from this state of things. Kings and chieftains broke their words; enemies who had surrendered on promise of pardon were ruthlessly slain; murder and rapine filled the land.

Under these circumstances it was no great privilege for the young and inexperienced Inge to wear a crown which merely put a price upon his head. In the spring of 1206, while he was in Nidaros celebrating the wedding of his sister, the Baglers surprised him in the night and slew a large number of his men. The king himself escaped by pure chance, threw himself into the river, and swam, half-clad, in the icy water, out to a ship, and clung for a while to the anchor cable. More dead than alive he reached the shore, and would probably have perished from exposure, if the Birchleg, Reidulf, who was also fleeing, had not found him, wrapped him in his cloak, and carried him on his back to a place of safety. Yet Inge never overcame the effects of this terrible night. He grew morose and despondent, and never regained his former light-heartedness. It was not merely that he felt discredited as a chieftain by the disgrace of having been surprised by his enemies in a drunken sleep, in the house of his mistress; his health, too, had suffered a shock from which it was slow to recover.

On their return from Nidaros, the Baglers paid a visit to Bergen, where they expected to starve the Birchleg garrison in the block-house into surrender. But here they reckoned without their host. Earl Haakon, though he had not been present at the assault upon his brother in Nidaros, felt impelled to avenge it. He therefore sailed southward with a small fleet and about seven hundred men, overtook the rebels in Bergen and inflicted upon them a severe defeat. Thus blindly pursuing partisan advantage, Baglers and Birchlegs kept killing each other, forgetting that they were all Norsemen, who would, in the end, suffer by the devastation and exhaustion of their common country. Year after year they continued surprising each other in Nidaros, Bergen, Tunsberg, and Oslo, burning each other's ships, and robbing each other's treasures; but they appeared to avoid a decisive battle which would have given an overwhelming advantage to one party or the other, thereby securing peace to the land. The death of Erling Stonewall in 1207 enabled Bishop Nicholas to carry out his desire to make his nephew, Philip Simonsson, king of the Baglers. But Philip made no change in the policy of his predecessor, persevering in the same aimless marauding, which could scarcely be dignified by the name of war. The parties were, indeed, so evenly matched, that it seemed hopeless for the one to destroy the other, for which reason the political stake in the struggle was almost lost sight of, while immediate profit yet furnished a motive for continuing in arms.

It was while anarchy was thus rioting and despondency reigning throughout the land, that a hope suddenly sprang up, like a star out of the depth of night. It was well known that King Haakon Sverresson, during his visit to Sarpsborg in 1203, had become enamoured of the beautiful Inga of Varteig, and it had also been whispered that she had reciprocated his love. Soon after Haakon's death, she had borne a son, and though it was taken for granted that the king was his father, the matter had been hushed up, lest the Baglers, who were masters in Viken, should hear that an heir had been born to the throne. The priest, Thrond, in whose house Inga gave birth to the boy, baptized him and gave him the name Haakon, after his father; but advised the utmost secrecy, and let no one but his immediate family know of the child's existence. Such a secret is, however, hard to keep, and, after a while, the priest took Erlend of Huseby, a man of good repute and a friend of Sverre's house, into his confidence. Erlend rejoiced that King Sverre's race was not extinct; but found the boy's position, in the midst of the enemies' land, perilous. He therefore persuaded Thrond to send him and his mother to King Inge, and himself offered to take them across the mountains. The boy Haakon was then (December, 1205,) about a year and a half old. There must have been some imminent danger at hand which impelled the priest, after having waited so long, to choose the most inclement season of the year for the journey across the trackless, snow-covered wilderness. The two friends started northward with their precious charge and arrived, after infinite hardships, in Nidaros, where they were well received by King Inge. The boy now, for a while, sojourned with his mother at court and was kindly treated. The old Birchlegs came often to see him and playfully took him between them and pulled him by the arms and legs in order to make him grow faster. For they were impatient to serve, once more, a king of the old royal race. Haakon Galen, too, took a great fancy to his young kinsman, though his demonstrations of love were, no doubt, looked upon with fear by those who had the boy's welfare at heart. Nevertheless, it appears that the earl was actually sincere, and felt moved, perhaps, by the very helplessness of the boy to protect him. A kind Providence seemed to be watching over him; for though living in the midst of the intrigues and plottings of rival chiefs, all of whom must have seen in him their most dangerous rival, his life was preserved, and he escaped unharmed from many dangers. Even the Baglers refrained from killing him, when in 1206 he fell into their hands, at the surrender of the block-house in Bergen. It is perhaps not safe to assume that a half-latent consciousness asserted itself, that in this boy Norway's future was bound up; that upon him depended the country's deliverance from the scourge of civil war. More likely it is that his beauty and winning ways appealed to friends and foes alike, while on the other hand, the love of the Birchlegs was his best guard, because it convinced his ill-wishers that disaster would swiftly overwhelm any one who should venture to harm him.

Of the many small victories and defeats, sieges and surrenders, flights and pursuits, which filled the years 1206 and 1207, without according any decisive advantage to either party, it is not necessary to speak at length. They were a series of barren futilities, resulting in loss of life, and waste of the resources of the land, without lastingly benefiting any one. Under these circumstances, it is not strange that both Birchlegs and Baglers began to long for a reconciliation. Even to so bitter a partisan as Bishop Nicholas, it became evident that a continuance of the war would mean mutual destruction, and that the prize of victory would be a devastated land and a barbarized people. King Inge, too, was heartily tired of the aimless hostilities, and even his pugnacious brother, Haakon Galen, was not disinclined to listen to proposals of peace. The new archbishop, Thore, acted as mediator between the parties and used his influence and his eloquence to extort from both the necessary concessions. At last, when the conditions were well understood on both sides, a meeting of the Birchleg and Bagler chiefs was held at Hvitingsöe (1208), at which Philip Simonsson, the king of the Baglers, swore allegiance to Inge, and became his earl. In return he received Viken and the Oplands in fief, and was wedded to Sverre's daughter, Christina.

The restoration of peace was not hailed as an unmixed boon by many of those who had lost their property by the war, and could only hope to enrich themselves by the same means. Others had carried arms so long, as to have lost all inclination for peaceful industry. A great number of these, irrespective of parties, started on an old-fashioned Viking expedition to the Orkneys, Hebrides, and Man, ravaged and plundered, and compelled the earls of those isles, once more, to acknowledge the supremacy of the crown of Norway. In spite of this service which they had done to the king, they were severely censured on their return, and forced by the bishops to surrender their booty to the Church.

The last years of King Inge's reign were embittered by his strained relation to Earl Haakon. The latter, feeling his superiority to Inge in all the qualities that grace a king, could not reconcile himself to his subordinate position. He began intriguing behind his brother's back, and privately sounded the sentiments of the prominent peasants and chiefs, in regard to his pretensions. From many he received a favorable answer, and the plot was in a fair way to succeed, when it was unexpectedly discovered by the king. Inge, who had had perfect confidence in his older brother, was more shocked than angered by the proof of his treachery. He summoned all his men to a house-thing and called upon them to stand by him, declaring that he would tolerate no other king in the land, as long as he was alive. This speech won general approval and compelled Haakon henceforth to weave his plots with greater secrecy. Whether he was the instigator of the attempt upon the king's life, which was made a year later, is not known, but that either he or his wife Christina was in some way implicated in it, is evident from the king's unwillingness to have the would-be assassin tried or punished. When his brother, Skule Baardsson, urged him to make an example of the wretch, he promised to have the matter investigated, to exile the criminal, etc., but as nothing was done, Skule lost his patience and killed him on his own responsibility.

It was, on the whole, a laudable spirit on Inge's part which impelled him to avoid an open rupture with Earl Haakon, even at the cost of personal sacrifice. He knew the horrors of civil war and would not take the responsibility of precipitating a breach of the peace, as long as it was in his power to prevent it. The fact that his health was poor, and that there was a chance that Haakon might succeed him, may also have disinclined him to discredit the latter in the eyes of the people. Among Haakon's partisans was Archbishop Thore, to whose intervention it was chiefly due that the king and the earl in 1212 made a compact, in accordance with which illegitimate children were to be excluded from the succession, and the one of the brothers who survived the other should inherit the throne. This agreement, which was proclaimed at Oere-thing, and sanctioned by the bishops and the magnates of the land, was chiefly aimed against the young prince, Haakon Haakonsson, who, though a direct descendant in the male line of the old royal house, was of illegitimate birth. It excluded also, for the same reason, Inge's son Guttorm, and transferred the succession to Haakon Galen and his legitimate son, Knut. But in making this compact, they underestimated the strength of the sentiment which bound Sverre's veterans to the boy Haakon. One of them, Helge Hvasse, who was in the habit of going frequently to see the prince, and playing with him, grew very wroth when he heard of the agreement. When Haakon ran up to him to have his usual romp, he pushed him roughly away and bade him begone. The boy, unaccustomed to such treatment, looked reproachfully at him, and asked why he was angry.

"Begone," cried Helge; "to-day thy paternal heritage was taken from thee, and I don't care for thee any more."

"Where was that done, and who did it?" asked Haakon.

"It was done at Oere-thing, and they who did it were the two brothers, King Inge and Earl Haakon."

"Do not be angry with me, mine own Helge," said the boy; "and be not troubled about this; their judgment cannot be valid, as my guardian was not present to answer in my behalf."

"Who, then, is thy guardian?" inquired Helge.

"My guardians are God, and the Holy Virgin, and St. Olaf," exclaimed Haakon solemnly; "into their keeping I have given my cause, and they will guard my interests, both in the division of the country and in all my welfare."

Much moved, the veteran seized the boy in his arms and kissed him.

"Thanks for those words, my prince," he said; "such words are better spoken than unspoken."

HAAKON HAAKONSSON AND HELGE HVASSE.

When this occurrence was reported to Christina, she scolded Haakon, and henceforth treated him harshly. But she dared not show her evil disposition toward him in the presence of her husband. For the earl, though he had no scruples in barring the boy's way to the throne, was yet attached to him, and would not allow him to come to harm. Haakon's remarkable precocity amused him, as it did all his men. Several anecdotes are preserved of his droll sayings and doings. Thus, when once the weather was so cold that the bread could not be buttered, the little prince took a piece of bread and bent it around the butter, saying: "Let us tie the butter to the bread, Birchlegs."

This saying became a proverb in the camp of the Birchlegs.

The king's indulgence to his brother in the matter of the succession had not quieted but rather stimulated the latter's ambition. By incessant intriguing he succeeded in fomenting a peasant's rebellion in Tröndelag which was, however, quelled without serious loss of life. Soon after this exploit, he was taken ill and died in Bergen 1214, aged thirty-eight years. His wife, who knew that the Birchlegs had a long score to settle with her, made haste to quit the country with her son. Haakon Haakonsson, who had been fostered in the earl's house, was now transferred to the court, where he was treated as became his rank. There the Birchlegs flocked again about him, watching jealously every one who approached him. They were in many ways discontented with King Inge, whom they held to be an aristocrat, and by his poor health and peaceful disposition unfitted for the chieftainship. Besides, his brother Skule was openly intriguing to push Haakon aside and place himself in the line of succession. The disaffection then became so great that a number of Birchlegs under the leadership of Andres Skjaldarband endeavored to persuade Haakon to place himself at the head of a rebellion. But Haakon refused to give ear to such counsel.

As the king's health declined and he perceived that his death was approaching, he loved to have the boy about him and to listen to his droll and vivacious talk. All public business passed, during this time, through the hands of Skule Baardsson, whom Inge made his earl, and the guardian of his son. The king died in April, 1217, being but thirty years old.

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CHAPTER XXVII.

HAAKON HAAKONSSON THE OLD (1217-1263).

The first act of the Birchlegs, after the death of King Inge, was to give Haakon a body-guard, which was to follow him night and day. Earl Skule, on his side, opened a campaign of intriguing and chicanery, in which he was faithfully supported by the new archbishop, Guttorm, and the canons of the cathedral chapter in Nidaros. In spite of all their underhand measures, however, Haakon was proclaimed king at Oere-thing by the Birchlegs, and Skule, who did not feel himself strong enough to defy the general sentiment, had to acquiesce in what he could not prevent. It was of no avail that the canons of the chapter locked up the shrine of St. Olaf upon which the king was to swear to keep the laws; the Birchlegs determined to dispense with the shrine rather than to dispense with their king. Nor did the negotiations of the earl with Philip, the so-called king of the Baglers, lead to anything; for Philip died shortly after King Inge, leaving no children; and Haakon sailed southward with a large fleet and took possession of Viken and the Oplands, which since the treaty of Hvitingsöe in 1208 had been under the dominion of the Baglers. By a wise policy of conciliation he induced the chiefs of the rebels to acknowledge his overlordship, on condition of their being permitted to keep one half of the fiefs which had been granted to Philip. The following year, they also consented to give up their old party name, which recalled the times of civil dissension and strife, and to fight side by side with the Birchlegs, against a new band of rebels, called the Slittungs (Ragamuffins), which had been organized under the leadership of a priest, named Benedikt or Bene Skindkniv (Skin-knife). This arrant impostor professed, like so many of his predecessors, to be the son of King Magnus Erlingsson, and in spite of the utter improbability of his story, upwards of a thousand men soon gathered about him and began robbing and plundering. It was merely to furnish an excuse for a breach of the peace that they professed belief in Bene's pretensions. Robbers, footpads, and all sorts of nomadic vagabonds could, in those days, give themselves a semblance of respectability by providing themselves with a candidate for the throne. A great many credulous people could then be induced to join them and their depredations were called war instead of robbery.

A war, and especially a civil war, always drags in its wake a long train of disastrous consequences. The longer it lasts, the more difficult is the return to peace. The miserable internecine strife which had lasted, with brief interruptions, since Harold Gille's ascension of the throne (1130), had weaned a whole generation from the pursuits of peace, accustoming it to scenes of bloodshed and violence. It had added to the natural risks of industrial occupations, and made rebellion, as it were, a legitimate profession. The thousands of homeless vagabonds who infest every imperfectly organized society, and the numerous class who, by nature, are criminally inclined, will always seize such an opportunity to support themselves, at the expense of society, and will far rather endure the dangers and hardships of a perpetual war than the wearing routine and sustained activities of peace. The material was therefore at hand for continued rebellion, and as long as the supply of pretenders showed no signs of giving out, there was every prospect that the king would have his hands full. Only the gradual destruction of the turbulent and the greater chances of the survival of the friends of order would, in the end, decide the struggle in favor of the latter. The problem is, however, more complicated than it appears to be, for the gradual destruction of the turbulent came, in the course of time, to mean the destruction of the warlike spirit itself. And a century after peace had been concluded, a period of decline set in, which continued for four hundred years.

A greater danger than the rebellion of the Slittungs was, however, threatening King Haakon from one who called himself his friend. The rôle of intriguer and mischief-maker, which during King Inge's reign had been filled by Haakon Galen, appeared to have devolved with his other dignities upon his brother, Earl Skule. To see royal honor bestowed upon a fourteen-year-old boy, who had done nothing to merit it, galled his proud soul. Like Haakon Galen, he had long stood so near to the throne, that he could not comprehend, why it should always remain beyond his reach. After the brief campaign against the Slittungs, he began again his machinations, aided as usual by the archbishop and the clergy, who seemed yet to cherish their ancient grudge against Sverre's house. When Haakon arrived in Nidaros, two weeks before Easter (1218), the archbishop treated him with studious discourtesy, while he did every thing in his power to distinguish the earl. When the king on Palm Sunday went up to place his offering upon the altar, the prelate did not even turn toward him, or in any way appear to be conscious of his presence. When taken to task for his incivility, he replied boldly that he was acting deliberately on the advice of all the bishops and many chieftains, who, like himself, had doubts as to whether the king was the son of Haakon Sverresson. Haakon, young as he was, saw at once the plot that was here concealed. But so great was his confidence in the justice of his cause, that he consented to have his mother bear glowing irons, to prove his origin. Inga had before offered to submit to this ordeal, but had been prevented by the archbishop, who for some reason did not then desire to pronounce upon her son's claim, possibly because he had not yet arranged his terms with Skule. It was of course unheard of, that a king, actually in possession of the realm, should be put to the humiliation of proving who he was; and his friend Dagfinn Peasant expressed the general sentiment when he said: "It will be hard to show another instance of such a case; that the sons of peasants and cottagers have ventured to prescribe such humiliating terms to an absolute king. * * * I think it were just as well to bear another kind of iron, viz., cold steel, against the king's foes, and then let God judge between them."

WEST FRONT OF DRONTHEIM CATHEDRAL.

As Earl Skule's plot seemed now in a fair way to succeed, he became suddenly affable and affectionate toward the king. He felt positive that his clerical friends would manage to have the ordeal result in accordance with his wishes. Nevertheless, to make assurance doubly sure, he bribed a foreigner in his service, named Sigar of Brabant, to approach the king's mother, and offer her an herb which, he asserted, had the power to heal burns; but a guard of devoted Birchlegs, among whom was Dagfinn Peasant, surrounded the church in which she was fasting, preparatory to the ordeal, and the earl's emissary was, therefore, compelled to confide his errand to the latter. Dagfinn replied: "No art or healing will we employ here, except such as Christ in his mercy will grant. Begone with thy twaddle, or disaster will overtake thee, if thou darest again utter such speech."

Inga was then warned of the plot and told to be on her guard. For if it could be proved that she had used healing herbs, the test would be invalid, and opprobrium would have overwhelmed both her and her son. All the machinations of her enemies, however, came to naught; she endured the ordeal triumphantly. It is difficult to explain how this result came about, for the odds were certainly against her. The earl had, perhaps, from over-confidence, neglected some link in his long chain of precautions. However that may be, he had, after this severe check, to start all over again—to spin, with painstaking care, a fresh web of intrigue, in order slowly to undermine the king's power. His plan seems to have been to alienate Haakon's trustiest friends from him, or to get them removed to such a distance that they could no longer be of any help to him; then to set them by the ears mutually, so that one slew the other and the king punished the survivor. But ingenious as this plot was, it was not entirely successful. The king's forgiving disposition, and a suspicion, on his part, that the earl was really at the bottom of these mysterious enmities and slayings, impelled him to act contrary to the latter's expectation. It was obvious to all that he bought the earl's pretended friendship at too high a price, and many of his men would have preferred open warfare to this suppressed suspicion and hypocritical good-will. There was, indeed, ample opportunity for strife between the two parties, and quarrels and bloody fights between the "earl's-men" and the "king's-men" were of frequent occurrence. All the conditions for another civil war were, in fact, at hand, and it was only the disinclination of the king to let loose, once more, the dogs of war, which preserved even the semblance of peace. The fact that the king was under the guardianship of a man who spent his time in plotting against them, seemed to the Birchleg chiefs to call for precautions, on their part; and the idea occurred to them to convert Skule's hostility into friendship, by identifying his interests with those of the king. For this purpose they proposed a marriage between Haakon and the earl's ten-year-old daughter, Margaret. The king, though he was not eager for such a marriage, yielded to the representations of his counsellors, and Skule, after some hesitation, consented to have the betrothal take place (1219). The actual marriage was preliminarily postponed, on account of the tender age of the bride. But those who had supposed that Skule could be made to abandon his scheming, because the king was his son-in-law, had made a miscalculation. Circumstances, however, compelled him, soon after the betrothal, to fight in defence of the crown, against a new band of rebels, called the Ribbungs, who had absorbed their predecessors, the Slittungs, and added largely to their number. This band owed its origin to the former Bagler chief, Gudolf of Blakkestad, who had been appointed a prefect by Haakon, but had later been deprived of his office, on account of his unpopularity with the peasants. To avenge himself, he raised the banner of rebellion, and provided himself with a candidate for the throne in the person of Sigurd, an alleged son of the Bagler king, Erling Stonewall. All those who had a real or an imagined cause for discontent, and many who were merely intent upon plunder, now rushed together under the standard of the Ribbungs. These made considerable progress in Viken, defeated and chased away the royal prefects, and gained much booty. They were secretly supported by that hoary mischief-maker, Bishop Nicholas, who, in spite of his professions of friendship, yet remained consistent in his hatred of Sverre's race. The earl, too, who was sent to destroy the rebels, was less energetic than he might have been, giving himself an appearance of zeal in his master's behalf, but being really disinclined to strike an effective blow. It was, rather, in his interest to keep them in the field, for the purpose of injuring the king and preventing him from growing too powerful. In the various fights which he had with the Ribbungs in Viken (1221), he did, indeed, inflict considerable injury upon them, and in the battle of Svang, at Lake Mjösen (1222), killed one hundred and fifty of their number. But immediately afterward he made peace with Sigurd Ribbung, who had the impudence to demand one third of the kingdom and the earl's daughter for his wife. Skule replied that neither had he brought up his daughter to live in the woods, nor was he minded to give up any part of his fiefs. But if the king was inclined to consider Sigurd's proposition, the earl promised to use whatever influence he had with his son-in-law in his behalf. On these conditions the rebel chief dismissed his band, and, on the promise of safe-conduct, betook himself to the earl's camp where he was treated with great distinction. The moment for pushing his claim was, however, not a favorable one, as the relation between the king and the earl, at this time, took a sudden turn for the worse. It appeared that Skule had levied troops and contributions, outside of his own fief, accordingly in the king's domain, and Haakon was so incensed at this fresh infringement of his rights that he wrote him a letter, in which he threatened him with war, in case he persevered in disregarding their agreement. The earl replied to this letter by immediately setting sail for Denmark. He had evidently taken a great resolution. What this resolution was is easy to guess.

OLD NORSE CAPITALS.

The kings of Denmark had, since the days of Harold Bluetooth, claimed overlordship over Viken, and they had repeatedly fomented rebellion in Norway for the purpose of regaining the lost province. Skule's intention was now to thrust Haakon from the throne by the aid of Valdemar the Victorious, and to take the entire country in fief from him. But to his unutterable astonishment, when he arrived in Denmark, Valdemar was nowhere to be found. He had been captured, five days before, by Count Henrik of Schwerin, and was now languishing with his son in a prison in Mecklenburg. Bitterly disappointed, Skule returned home, and was compelled to resume his mask of benevolent interest in his son-in-law's affairs. The latter had just filled his eighteenth year, which, in the case of princes, was regarded as the age of majority. He needed, therefore, no longer a guardian, and custom seemed to demand some ceremony on his formal assumption of the government. An assembly of notables was therefore summoned to meet in Bergen (1223), where Archbishop Guttorm, who, in the meanwhile, by concessions, had been bribed to take the king's side, solemnly reaffirmed his right to the throne. Sigurd Ribbung's claim was pronounced invalid, as was also that of Squire Knut, the son of Haakon Galen and Christina, who had sent representatives to the meeting. Earl Skule saw from the beginning that the sentiment of the assembly was so overwhelmingly in Haakon's favor, that it would be of no use for him to urge his pretensions. He therefore contented himself with extorting as favorable terms for himself as possible at the renewal of his compact with the king. After many negotiations he exchanged his southern fief for the northern third of the country, extending from the North Cape to the southern boundary at Söndmöre. But he still remained, in name at least, a royal vassal, and was compelled to swear allegiance to the king; although he enjoyed all the royal revenues from his fiefs, and paid no tax or tribute to any one.

In accordance with this agreement Haakon now moved southward and took up his residence in Oslo. This city, which had recently been burned down, he rebuilt with great care, and came thereby into frequent contact with the ancient enemy of his race, Bishop Nicholas. This venerable scoundrel succeeded actually in gaining his confidence for a time, and obtained during this brief friendship substantial advantages for himself and his see. Haakon always took pleasure in showing his zeal for religion by liberality toward the Church, and the wily bishop was the man to take advantage of such a disposition. He persuaded him on the death of Archbishop Guttorm (1223) to give the weight of his recommendation to his enemy, Peter of Husastad, who, in accordance with the advice of Nicholas, feigned friendship, until he had got the mitre securely on his head.

It was not in accordance with the earl's plans to let the king sit quietly in Viken, increasing his popularity and power. He was therefore scarcely grieved, when he heard of Sigurd Ribbung's flight; nay, it is even probable, that he gave the rebel chief the opportunity to escape, if he did not actually persuade him to renew the rebellion. The Ribbungs, who were not loath to resume their former activity, gathered again in large numbers about their leader, and began plundering and killing the king's adherents as of old. Whenever they were pursued, they made their escape across the frontier into the Swedish province, Vermeland, only to return as soon as their pursuers had turned their backs on them. King Haakon wrote repeatedly to the Swedish king, or rather to his guardians, as he was himself a child, complaining of the protection which Sweden afforded his enemies. Prominent among the counsellors of King Erik was then Eskil Lawman, who had married Christina, the widow of Haakon Galen. This unscrupulous woman, who had hated Haakon from his childhood, now exerted her influence against him at the Swedish court; the consequence was that the counsellors disregarded his remonstrance, and continued to give the Ribbungs an asylum. Their audacity naturally grew, in proportion as they became conscious of this protection; and Haakon was at last compelled to invade Vermeland with an army of 2,400 men, in the middle of winter (1225). He burned many farms, and ravaged several parishes, but had no chance to fight any decisive battle, either with the Ribbungs or the Swedes. The latter had fled to the woods, and the former had availed themselves of the king's visit to Sweden to make a foray into Vestfold, and attack Tunsberg. The former Bagler chief, Arnbjörn Jonsson, who was close on their heels with his troops, was detained in Oslo by Bishop Nicholas, who by his double dealing succeeded in insuring the escape of the rebels.

In April, 1225, the king, in the midst of his protracted campaign against the Ribbungs, celebrated his wedding in Bergen with his betrothed, Earl Skule's daughter. The bride was then about seventeen years old, the groom twenty. If it was Skule's intention, when he gave his consent to the marriage, to secure himself an ally at court, he was disappointed. For Margaret, from the moment she became queen, made common cause with her husband, and in no wise favored her father's schemes. She was a gentle and affectionate wife and a good mother.

The Ribbungs in the meanwhile continued their guerilla warfare, having taken possession of the Helgeö, an island in Lake Mjösen, whence they made forays into the fertile parishes that border on the lake, and practically controlled the Oplands. Earl Skule, who was again sent out to quell the rebellion, dawdled as usual, nursing his secret treason and being at heart more anxious to injure the king than his enemies. In order to destroy the Ribbungs, it was necessary to reach the island, and ostensibly for this purpose he began to build ships on the shores of the lake. He built them, however, deliberately in such a fashion that they leaked, and could scarcely be kept afloat. The Ribbungs, instead of being frightened by his preparations, grew daily bolder, and sent messengers to the king in Oslo, proposing to give him battle. Haakon accepted the offer, and advanced with his army to the appointed place of meeting (Eidsvold), while the earl, instead of hastening to meet him, took the road across the mountains to Nidaros, after having burned his worthless ships. Here was the most incontrovertible proof of treason; and there are also indications that in a correspondence between Bishop Nicholas and the Ribbungs which had fallen into the king's hands, the earl was seriously compromised. Nevertheless, Haakon chose to feign blindness rather than call the traitor to account. Possibly he did not feel himself strong enough to fight Skule and the Ribbungs at the same time, preferring to get rid of one enemy before engaging the other.

After having waited in vain for the Ribbungs at Eidsvold, Haakon returned with his army to Oslo, where he learned that Bishop Nicholas was lying upon his death-bed. The old prelate, with whom falsity and double-dealing had become a second nature, seemed yet to feel some anxiety as to his fate in the hereafter. He therefore summoned the king to his bedside, made him a full confession (not, however, until the king had shown him the evidence of his treason), and implored his forgiveness, which was readily granted. The bishop died in November, 1225, seventy-five years old, having spent his long life in fomenting rebellion, and in ravaging and destroying his native land. His great talents proved a curse both to himself and his people. Not long after his demise, Sigurd Ribbung died (1226), and Haakon Galen's son, Squire Knut, was induced by his guileful mother to take his place. He brought with him a large band of Swedes, thereby giving his warfare the appearance of a foreign invasion, and arousing the hostility of the peasantry of the Oplands, who had formerly been friendly to the Ribbungs. In a fight at Aker he was defeated by a united army of Birchlegs and peasants, and during the following months he suffered repeated disasters, and was deserted by many of his best men. After a dastardly attempt to capture the king by inviting him to a conference, under promise of safety,—an attempt which failed by the merest chance,—Squire Knut dismissed his band (1227), submitted to Haakon, who not only forgave him, but for his father's sake gave him fiefs, and treated him with distinction. The young man, as soon as he was removed from his mother's influence, gave up all thought of rebellion, married, some years later, a younger daughter of Earl Skule, and became one of the king's most devoted friends.

ON THE SOGNE FJORD.

As the Ribbungs were now out of the way and could no longer be made to serve his purposes, the earl hatched a new plot which, on account of its ingenuity, ran less risk of premature detection. He professed a desire to take the cross, and began warlike preparations on a grand scale. He obtained from the Pope permission to exact one twentieth of all the ecclesiastical revenues of the province of Nidaros in aid of his enterprise, and satisfied his conscience by endowing the Church, in return, with his great family estate, Rein, which was converted into a nunnery. Extreme caution was characteristic of Skule; and he meant, this time, to leave nothing to chance. He began at once to build ships, and to gather warriors about him from all parts of the country. As the Danish king, Valdemar the Victorious, had now regained his liberty, he could also count upon his aid, and a formal agreement was made between them in accordance with which Skule should assist the king in recovering his lost provinces. In return for this service Valdemar promised to put Skule on the throne of Norway. That some such agreement must have existed is obvious from the fact that the earl actually set sail for Denmark (1227), without asking Haakon's permission, but was met on his way by the latter and informed of the disastrous defeat of his ally at Bornhöved. He then concluded to await developments; as he would run too great a risk in visiting Denmark, while Valdemar's enemies had the upper hand. Putting on a bold face, he joined his fleet to that of his son-in-law and returned to Bergen. The king, although he did not deceive himself as to Skule's purposes, kept his counsel and feigned ignorance. Nay, he even carried his generosity so far as to lend the traitor ships and provisions when, the following year, (1228) he set out once more to visit the king of Denmark. Since his defeat at Bornhöved, Valdemar was indeed much less formidable than before his captivity, and the warlike spirit had wellnigh left him. Haakon may therefore have suspected that, surrounded as he was with enemies, both on the south and the west, he would scarcely care to add another on the north. Moreover, Haakon had by this time secured the friendship of the German emperor, Frederick II., who was a bitter enemy of Denmark, and he might, therefore, have a chance to keep Valdemar in check, in case he should lend a favorable ear to the earl's persuasions. Under these circumstances he hardly exposed himself to any risk, nay hoped, perhaps, by facilitating his father-in-law's approach to the Danish king, to convince him of the futility of all his plottings. If that was his intention, he must have been disappointed in the result. For when Skule returned he had added to his power for mischief, by obtaining the northern half of the Danish province of Halland in fief, thereby becoming the vassal of a foreign prince, who, moreover, was the enemy of his own king.

One would have supposed that he was now ready for a decisive blow. But he hesitated again, and seemed half inclined to retrace his steps. There was always something lacking in the completeness of his preparations, and another delay was always necessary. He is, indeed, an interesting figure, this wily and ambitious intriguer, who has the courage to plot treason, nay takes pleasure in perfecting all the details of his plot, but always pauses before taking the irretrievable step. Like Schiller's Wallenstein, he fondles the thought, plays with it, utters it cautiously and hypothetically, but leaves himself always, as he supposes, a path of retreat, until his own acts spin a web about him and bar him the road back to safety. Year by year he compromises himself more irretrievably; his treasonable letters fall into the hands of the king, and when, after twenty-two years of covert treason, he drifts into open rebellion, it is because there is apparently no other alternative left to him.

A STORM ON THE FJORD.

In the meanwhile, the king left no means untried to keep the earl to his allegiance. In 1233 he summoned him to an assembly of notables in Bergen (Rigsmöde), at which the archbishop, the bishops, and a great number of secular dignitaries were present. The king here called his father-in-law formally to account for his actions, and the liegemen rose, one after the other, and cited proofs of the earl's disloyalty. When the turn came to Skule to defend himself, he began in this wise:

"I know a ditty: 'The eagle sat on a stone,' and I also know another which runs like this: 'The eagle sat on a stone,' and a lot more which all run the same way. Thus it is here to-day. Every one talks in his own way, but they all finish up with the same ditty, viz.: to bring accusations against me."

He made a long and eloquent speech, and, as it is said, defended himself with great adroitness. It is doubtful, however, if anybody believed him, and it was only the king's reluctance to resort to the sword, which saved him, on this as on many previous occasions. A new agreement was drawn up which was no more effective in restraining the earl's treasonable scheming than the previous ones had been. On the contrary, he was no sooner left to his own devices than he resumed his activity for the overthrow of the king. His purpose this time was to involve Haakon in a quarrel with the Church, in order afterward to crush him with the formidable weapons which the Church had at its command. He shrewdly provided himself with a cat's paw in the person of Bishop Paul of Hamar, who was his devoted adherent. The archbishop, at this time, Sigurd Tavse, was a partisan of the king, but zealous for the welfare of the Church, and therefore, as Skule reasoned, capable of being alienated by a controversy in which the interests of the Church and those of the king were in conflict. Bishop Paul accordingly produced a document, alleged to have been issued by the Bagler king, Inge, in 1226, in which the Helgeö in Mjösen, which was the property of the crown, was presented to the episcopal see of Hamar. The king naturally contested the validity of this document, as Inge, a rebel chief, had no right to give away the property of the crown which had never been his. An appeal was now made to the Pope, Gregory IX., and a campaign of intrigue and mendacity was begun. The excellent and honorable Haakon was systematically reviled and slandered, until the Pope came to believe that he was a villain of the deepest dye. Bishop Paul, virtually as the ambassador of the earl, though nominally in the interest of the Church, betook himself to Rome, where he succeeded in prejudicing Gregory IX. against all the king's adherents, and even against his own superior, the archbishop. Skule, on the other hand, was represented in the most flattering light, as the munificent friend of the Church, and its defender against the encroachments of the unscrupulous king. The object was to procure a ban-bull against Haakon.

The plot was spoiled, however, by being prematurely revealed. An Icelander, named Sturla Sighvatsson, a nephew and an active enemy of the historian Snorre Sturlasson, met Bishop Paul in Rome and started homeward in his company. Whether he gained the confidence of his travelling companion, or otherwise obtained an insight into his intrigues at the Roman Curia, is not known. At all events, he immediately sought the king, on his arrival in Norway, and acquainted him with the doings of his enemies. The king summoned the earl once more to meet him in Bergen; but this time Skule's courage failed him. Instead of going to Bergen, he went with his army to Nidaros, and thence across the mountains to the Oplands, which was the king's territory. This was about equivalent to a declaration of war, but as usual, he took only half measures, hesitated, talked threateningly, but refrained from actual hostilities. At the intercession of Archbishop Sigurd, he was induced to promise to keep the peace during the winter (1235-6) on condition of receiving one third of the royal prefectures (Sysler) in the Oplands and Viken. It seems to indicate weakness on Haakon's part that he was willing to make such concessions; and his readiness to yield had naturally the effect of encouraging the earl's adherents and making them screw their demands still higher. During the following year (1237) a new agreement was made, in accordance with which Skule was confirmed in the possession of his territory in the south, and was raised to the rank of duke—a rank which had never before been conferred upon any man in Norway. There was but one title, however, which could satisfy Skule's ambition, and as long as Haakon refused to grant that, he felt himself justified in continuing his agitation. With increasing recklessness he defied the king's will, gathered great numbers of warriors about him, built ships, and conducted himself in every way as an independent ruler. It became the fashion at his court to ridicule the king as a cowardly busybody who only talked, but lacked the heart to strike. The Varbelgs[A]—thus the partisans of the duke were called—invented for him the nickname, Haakon Sleepy. His reluctance to assume the responsibility for civil war, they mistook for fear, and his conscientiousness for pusillanimity.

[A] The same name had been borne by another band of rebels which, under the boy Vikar, had fought against King Sverre.

When the spirit of rebellion which the duke had bred in his surroundings had thrown away all restraint, it began to react upon himself, spurring him on to deed, and counteracting his natural indecision of character. He was now nearly fifty years old, and if he ever were to gain the crown, there was no time to be lost. Accordingly he mustered courage in 1239 to summon the Trönders to Oere-thing, and to proclaim himself king of all Norway. When the canons of the cathedral refused to permit the shrine of St. Olaf to be used for the ceremony, Skule's son, Peter,[B] jumped up on the altar, pulled the coffin up, and had it removed, by force, to the thing. In order that Haakon should gain no intelligence of what had taken place, all the roads which led out of the city were guarded, but for all that, one man, named Grim Keikan, managed to make his escape and to warn the king of the threatening danger. It was in the middle of the night that the king received this message, and he went instantly to the queen's rooms and demanded admittance. The queen, aroused from her sleep, asked anxiously what news he brought.

[B] Peter was an illegitimate child. His mother was the wife of Andres Skjaldarband.

"Only this trifle," he said, "that there are now two kings in Norway."

"Only one is the right king," she answered gravely, "and that one are you."

It had been Skule's first plan to surprise Haakon in Bergen, and capture him. But he soon learned that the king had heard of his exploits, and was prepared to receive him. He then sent out bands of warriors to different parts of the country to kill the royal prefects and all prominent friends of the king. A great many excellent men, who were utterly unprepared for hostilities, were thus foully murdered; churches were violated, and many atrocities committed. The duke, in the meanwhile, remained quietly in Nidaros where he occupied himself in writing letters to foreign princes and potentates, informing them of the step he had taken, and endeavoring to stir up difficulties for Haakon by unscrupulous misrepresentations. When, however, he learned that the king was coming with a large force to attack him, he started (Feb., 1240) with six hundred men across the mountains to the Oplands. Here he was met by his son-in-law, Squire Knut, who had been appointed earl in his place, and defeated him and the able commander, Arnbjörn Jonsson, at Laaka. It was now high time for the king to appear upon the scene, if he were to prevent the rebellion from assuming such proportion, as to be beyond his power to quell it. The danger suddenly developed in him a decision and promptness of action, which went far to raise the sinking courage of his men. He declined the archbishop's offer to open negotiations once more; arrived, after a voyage of unprecedented rapidity, in Viken, and rowed, under cover of a fog, up the Folden Fjord to Oslo. In view of the possibility of his death, he had made all preparations for the succession, but he was resolved to sell his life dearly. The Varbelgs, who had not the faintest suspicion that he was near, were sleeping soundly after a night's carouse, when suddenly the war-horn resounded, and the storm-bell rang. The prows of the royal fleet were then seen emerging from the fog and making for the piers. The duke, as soon as the alarm was given, tumbled out of bed and flung on his clothes. The dawn was just reddening in the east, and the fog was lifting. The ships were now at the piers, and the troops were disembarking. The Varbelgs supposed, at first, that it was Earl Knut, who had come to revenge his defeat at Laaka. But they were soon undeceived. When they caught sight of the royal banner they knew that King Haakon was not far away. Strangely enough, though they saw him storming forward, every moment exposing himself to danger, nay, even rushing on ahead of his men, they were not eager to kill him. They feared that the duke's cause was lost, and though they fought bravely, they had no hope of victory. The duke fled and was pursued by the Birchlegs; but they did not succeed in overtaking him. Many men fell in that fight, but many more sought refuge in the churches and were pardoned.

It was, indeed, the duke himself, as we have seen, who was the originator as well as the leader of the rebellion. He was not the expression and embodiment of a disloyal feeling among the people, as many previous pretenders had been, but the rebellion was solely due to his own personal ambition. As long as he was alive, therefore, the brands of civil war might at any moment be rekindled. It was this reflection which prompted the king, in this instance, to smother all natural feeling for his father-in-law and not to shrink from punishing him as he had deserved. Seven days after the battle of Oslo he sent fifteen well-manned ships to Nidaros, whither the duke had fled, under the command of Aasulf of Austraat, a resolute man and one of Skule's bitterest enemies.

On his arrival in Nidaros, Skule fled to the woods, roaming about for two days and nights with a few friends who would not desert him. At last the friars of the monastery of Elgeseter took pity on him, provided him and his followers with cowls, and hid them in a tower. The tidings soon reached Aasulf that some strange-looking monks had been seen to enter the cloister, and he immediately set out with his men and demanded their surrender. When the friars refused, some of the Birchlegs set fire to the monastery. Others endeavored to put out the fire, but their efforts were futile. The smoke and the heat now compelled the duke and his companions to descend from the tower. As he stepped out of the gate he held his shield above his head, saying: "Hew me not in the face; for it is not meet thus to treat chieftains." Instantly the Birchlegs fell upon him and slew him (1240).

The death of Skule ended the rebellion. There was now no man in Norway who was strong enough to contest the power of the king; probably no one who had the desire. It is a remarkable fact, considering the duration of the civil war, since the death of Sigurd the Crusader, that the country apparently recovered so soon from its effects. The period of stagnation and decline did not occur until nearly a century later, and may then have been in part attributable to other and more immediate causes. The seed, however, of destruction had been sown during this disastrous epoch, even though it required a century to sprout.

The return of peace left the king free to further an ambition which he had long had at heart. In a half unacknowledged way, he regarded his illegitimate birth as a blot upon his 'scutcheon which he was anxious to have removed. For this purpose he desired to be crowned. He had made an effort to gain the Pope's consent to such a ceremony during Skule's lifetime, but his ever-active enemy had frustrated his plan. Gregory IX. was now dead, as was also his successor, Celestin IV., and St. Peter's chair was occupied by Innocent IV., who had no prejudice against Haakon. The bishops, as usual, endeavored to exact fresh privileges, in return for their good offices in this matter, proposing that the king, on assuming the crown, should swear the same oath as Magnus Erlingsson had sworn, acknowledging himself the vassal of the Church, and taking the crown in fief from St. Olaf. But here they were met by a firm refusal.

"If I should swear such an oath as King Magnus swore," Haakon replied, "then methinks my honor in being crowned would be diminished, instead of increased. For King Magnus did not care what he did in order to attain that to which he had no right. But by God's help I shall not need to buy of you what God has rightly chosen me to be, after my father and my ancestors."

When the Pope's consent was obtained, Cardinal William of Sabina was sent to Norway to set the crown upon the king's head. But on arriving, he, too, incited by the native prelates, was disposed to exact conditions. Haakon, however, secure in his right, maintained his attitude with firmness and dignity, and in the end the cardinal had to accept his terms. The coronation took place with great pomp on St. Olaf's Day, July 29, 1247, in Christ's Church in Bergen. The guests at the banquet which followed the ceremony were so numerous that the royal mansion could not hold them, and it became necessary to fit out a huge boat-house as a temporary banqueting hall. The feast continued for three days, and outdid in magnificence any thing that had hitherto been seen in the North. Then followed a five days' fête in honor of the cardinal and the other dignitaries. When the festivities were at an end, a meeting was called at which affairs of state were discussed, and the king voluntarily made several concessions to the clergy. The right of the Church to choose its own servants was confirmed, as also its right of separate jurisdiction. Ordeals were solemnly abolished, because, as the cardinal expressed it, it was not seemly for Christian men to challenge God to give his verdict in human affairs.

At his departure from Norway, the cardinal received a present of 15,000 marks sterling, or about half a million francs, for his master the Pope, besides a munificent compensation for his own services.

The remainder of Haakon's reign was externally uneventful, and for that very reason beneficial to the country. The king was wise enough to see that the noisy deeds of war bring no enduring blessing, while the industries of peace produce sound prosperity and progress. He therefore devoted himself with unflagging energy to the furtherance of agriculture and trade. His chief interest was, however, architecture. Cloisters, churches, and fortifications were built in different parts of the country. His love of splendor he indulged in the erection of a magnificent royal mansion in Bergen, and his benevolence in the erection of a hospital for lepers. In Tromsö he put up a church, which long enjoyed the distinction of being the northernmost church in the world. The laws of succession were so amended as to exclude illegitimate sons; the civil and criminal codes were improved, and the number of lawmen increased to eleven. A well-equipped fleet of 300 ships was maintained, which, in the hands of a peace-loving king, was a guaranty of peace rather than a menace of war. By embassies, by exchanges of gifts with foreign princes, and by the power and splendor which he displayed at home and abroad, Haakon gained a place among the rulers of Europe, which had been accorded to no Norwegian king before him. The German emperor, the noble and gifted Frederick II., sought his friendship, and maintained communication with him until his death. The Russian grand duke, Alexander Newsky, applied for the hand of his daughter, Christina, for his son, and King Alfonso the Wise of Castile wooed her for his brother. The suit of the latter was accepted, and Christina married in 1257 the Spanish prince, Don Philip. The Pope, Alexander IV., endeavored to extort from Haakon a promise to participate in a crusade, and the king of France, Louis IX., offered him, "in view of his power and experience on the seas," the command of an allied Norse-French fleet; and to crown his honors, it is said that the Pope in 1256 urged him as his candidate for emperor of Germany.

What gave King Haakon, in spite of the remoteness of his country, this extraordinary influence abroad was particularly his fleet. During a brief war with Denmark in 1256 and 1257, the awe which the sight of this strong naval force inspired was so great, that it induced the Danish king, Christopher, to make peace on Haakon's terms without venturing a battle. The Icelanders, enfeebled and brutalized by perpetual internecine feuds, acknowledged his supremacy and promised to pay him tribute (1261). The few and scattered inhabitants of Greenland likewise recognized his overlordship. A dispute concerning the Orkneys and the Shetland Isles led to war with the Scottish king, Alexander III. Haakon, determined to maintain his power over these distant dependencies, which had already cost Norway so much blood and treasure, started with his fleet for Scotland (1263), but suffered severely from a storm which wrecked many of his ships. He sailed around to th western side of Scotland, ravaged the coasts of Cantire and Bute, and fought a battle at Largs (near the entrance to the Firth of Clyde), in which, according to the account of the Scots, the Norsemen were defeated, while, according to the sagas, they were victorious. At best, however, the battle afforded them no advantage. For Haakon retired, immediately after, to the Orkneys, where he determined to spend the winter, hoping to renew the campaign again in the spring. Here he was suddenly taken ill and died in Kirkevaag, December 15, 1263. During his illness he had the sagas of his ancestors read aloud to him, from Halfdan the Swarthy down to the days of his grandfather, King Sverre. During the reading of Sverre's saga he passed quietly away.

NORWEGIAN STABBUR, OR STORE-HOUSE.

All records agree in the judgment that Haakon Haakonsson was a wise and noble king. He was not a man of genius, not endowed with the brilliant gifts of his grandfather. But he was what we call a safe man. He possessed strong common-sense; was generous and forgiving, yet resolute and firm where justice demanded severity. His noble heart and his clear-sighted intelligence led him invariably to choose the right. He was therefore a great king, without being necessarily a great man, unless a well-balanced combination of all average good qualities constitutes in itself greatness. His enemy, Duke Skule, was in many respects a more brilliant personality, and yet what a misfortune it would have been to Norway, if Skule had displaced Haakon!

In appearance Haakon resembled his grandfather. He was, like him, of middle height, and had the same large and wondrously expressive eyes. He looked taller when he sat than when he stood, but his presence was always dignified and impressive. He was fifty-nine years old when he died, and had ruled over Norway forty-six years.

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