And drive the intruder o’er the main!”

Then said the King: “Thou art too brave a fellow, Eyvind, to bring us a false alarm of war.” He ordered the tables to be removed, and went out to look at the ships; and the King asked his men what resolution they would take, to give battle there and then, or to sail away northwards and escape. They gave their voice for war, for they knew that this was what the King would choose, and made them ready speedily. A great battle was fought that day, but in the end Eyvind was killed and the King received an arrow through his shoulder, and though he fought on, his blood ebbed out until he had no strength left, and he had to be carried to his ship. They sailed on awhile toward King Hakon’s house at Alrekstad, but when he came as far as Hakon’s Hill he was nearly lifeless; so they put in to shore, and he died there by the shoreside, at the little hill beside which he had been born. They buried his body in a mighty mound, in which they laid him in full armour and in his kingly robes; that mound is to be seen not far from Bergen at this day. So great was the sorrow at his death that he was lamented alike by his friends and his enemies; for they said that never again would Norway see such a king. For all he was a Christian, they spake over his grave wishing him a good reception in Valhalla, the home of Odin and the gods. It was in the year 960 that the battle of Stord and the death of King Hakon took place. The men who had fallen in his army were buried in mounds along the sea-shore, each great man among them laid in his armour, and one of the enemy’s ships turned bottom up over him, and the whole covered in with earth and stones. These were called “ship-burial” mounds, and many of them have been found in Norway.

After Hakon’s fall the sons of Eric Bloodaxe ruled over Norway.

Chapter XIII
The Saga of Olaf Trygveson

One of the greatest Kings of Norway was named Olaf Trygveson (i.e. the son of Trygve), who became King of Norway in 995. He had an adventurous career, part of it being connected with the British Isles, where he spent ten years in hiding in his youth, only returning to his native country when his people called on him to take the crown.

His father, Trygve, had been treacherously put to death shortly before he was born, and his mother had fled away with a few faithful followers, and had taken refuge in a lonely island in a lake; here Olaf was born in 963, and baptized with heathen baptism, and called after his grandfather, a son of Harald Fairhair.

During all that summer Astrid, his mother, stayed secretly in the island; but when the days grew shorter, and the nights colder, she was obliged to leave the damp island and take refuge on the mainland, in the house of her father, reaching it by weary night-marches, for they feared to be seen if they travelled by day. But soon news reached them that their enemies were searching for them, and they dared not stay longer, but clothed themselves in mean clothing and went on again, meeting with many rebuffs, until at last they got out of the kingdom, and were protected for three years by Hakon the Old, King of Sweden. Now Astrid had a brother in Russia in the service of the Russian King, and she thought that Olaf would be safer if she went thither with him; so they set sail in a ship provided by Hakon the Old, but again ill-luck overtook them, for they were captured by pirates in the Baltic, and the little lad was separated from his mother, and sold as a slave into Russia. But there a better fortune came to him, for he fell in with his cousin, his mother’s nephew, who bought him from his master, and took him to the King’s palace, and commended him to the care of the Queen. There Olaf grew up, and men favoured him, for he was stout and strong, and a handsome man, and accomplished in manly exercises. But he dared not go back to his own country, so he took ship and sailed to England, and ravaged wide around the borders. He sailed right round Britain, and down to the coast of France, laying the land waste with fire and sword wherever he came. After that he came to the Scilly Isles, and lay there, for he was weary after his four years’ cruise. This was in 988. He did not wish it to be known who he was, so he called himself Ole instead of Olaf, and gave out that he was a Russian. One day he heard that a clever fortune-teller was in the place, and he sent one of his company to him, pretending that this man was himself. But the fortune-teller knew at once that this was not so, and he said: “Thou art not the King, but I advise thee to be faithful to thy king.” And no more at all would he say to him than that. Then Olaf went to him himself, and asked what luck he would have if he should attempt to regain his kingdom. The hermit replied that he would become a renowned king, and that he ought to adopt the Christian religion and suffer himself to be baptized; and he told him many things regarding his future. That autumn a summons was sent through the country for a great Thing-mote, or meeting of the Danes in the South of England; and Olaf went to the Thing in disguise, wearing his bad-weather clothes and a coarse cloak, and keeping apart with his people from the rest. There was also at the Thing a lady called Gyda, who was sister of Olaf Cuaran, or Olaf o’ the Sandal, Danish King of Dublin. She had been married to a great English earl, and after his death she ruled all his property. She had in her territory a strong, rough champion, named Alfvine, who wooed her in marriage, but she did not favour his suit, saying she would only marry again as she pleased. She said he should have his answer at the Thing, so he came in his best, sure that the Lady Gyda would soon be his wife. But Gyda went all round the company, looking in each man’s face, to see whom she would choose; but she chose none until she came where Olaf stood. She looked him straight in the face, and in spite of his common clothing she thought the face good and handsome. So she said to him: “Who are you, and what do you here?” “My name is Ole,” he replied; “but I am a stranger here.” “In spite of that,” she said; “wilt thou have me for thy wife, if I ask thee?” “I do not think I would say no to that,” he answered; “but tell me of what country you are, for I am, as I said, a stranger here.”

“I am called Gyda,” said she; “and I am sister of the Danish King of Ireland. But I was married to an earl in this country. Since his death many have asked for my hand, but I did not choose to marry any of them.” Then Olaf saw that she was a young and very handsome woman, and he liked her well, and they talked a long while together, and after that they were betrothed. Alfvine was furious when he heard this, and he challenged Olaf to fight, but Olaf and his followers struck down Alfvine and his men, and he ordered Alfvine to leave the country and never return again. Then he and Gyda were wedded, and they lived sometimes in England and sometimes in Ireland.

It was in Ireland that Olaf got his wolf-hound, Vige. The Irish dogs were famous all over the world for their great size and intelligence; they were large, smooth hounds, and the constant companions of men. One day Olaf and his men were sailing along the east coast of Ireland, when, growing short of provisions, they made a foray inland, his men driving down a herd of cattle to the water’s edge. One of their owners, a peasant, came up and begged Olaf to give him back his own cows, which he said were all the property he possessed. Olaf, looking at the large herd of kine on the strand, told him laughingly that he might take back his own cows, if he could distinguish them in the herd. “But be quick about it,” he added, “for we cannot delay our march for you.”

He thought that out of such a number of cattle it would be impossible to tell which were owned by any single person. But the man called his hound and bade him go amongst the hundreds of beasts and bring out his own. In a few minutes the dog had gathered into one group exactly the number of cows that the peasant said he owned, all of them marked with the same mark. Olaf was so surprised at the sagacity of the dog that he asked the peasant if he would sell him to him. “Nay,” said the peasant, “but as you have given me back my cattle, I will gladly give him to you: his name is Vige, and he will, I hope, be as good a dog to you as he is to me.” Olaf thanked the man, and gave him a gold ring in return, and promised him his protection. From that time forth Olaf went nowhere without his dog Vige; he was the most sagacious of dogs, and remained with Olaf till the day of his death. Once when Olaf was fighting in Norway, and driving his enemies before him, Thorer, their leader, ran so fast that he could not come up with him. His dog Vige was beside him, and he said, “Vige! Vige! catch the deer!” In an instant Vige came up with Thorer, who turned and struck at him with his sword, giving him a great wound; but Olaf’s spear passed through Thorer at the same instant and he fell dead. But Vige was carried wounded to the ships. Long afterwards, when Olaf disappeared after the battle of Svold, Vige was, as usual, on his master’s ship, the Long Serpent. One of the chiefs went to him, and said: “Now we have no master, Vige!” whereupon the dog began to howl, and would not be comforted. When the Long Serpent came near to land he sprang on shore, and ran to a burial-mound which he thought was Olaf’s grave and stretched himself upon it, refusing to take food. Great tears fell from his eyes, and there he died, in grief for the loss of his master.