But a good time passed before Sweyn was able fully to carry out his threat. In the meantime he was occupied with wars in Norway, where King Olaf Trygveson had come to the throne. The first thing he did was to marry Sigrid the Haughty, whom Olaf had once intended to marry, but with whom he had quarrelled because she would not be baptized, and who had never forgiven Olaf for striking her in the face with his glove. Now she saw a chance of revenge, and she continually urged King Sweyn to give battle to Olaf. In the end he consented to do this, and he sent messengers to his kinsman the King of Sweden, and to Earl Eirik of Norway, and together they made the formidable coalition which met Olaf Trygveson at the great sea-fight of Svold in A.D. 1000, where Olaf disappeared, as we have already related.
We must inquire what causes so much incensed Sweyn against England that he determined above all other things to go to that country and avenge himself there. The thirty-seven years of Ethelred’s reign had been miserable for English and Danes alike. An old historian says that his life was “cruel in the beginning, wretched in the middle, and disgraceful in the end.” Just at a time when a strong leader was most needed this idle and frivolous King gave himself up to indolence and every kind of wickedness. Instead of organizing his armies he shut himself up in London, careless of what became of his kingdom and people so long as he himself was safe. He was cruel to his wife, Emma, daughter of Duke Richard of Normandy, a lady of high rank, and cowardly before his enemies. Indeed, his only idea of freeing the country from war was by paying large sums of money to the Danes to keep them quiet. At one time he paid them twenty-four thousand pounds to go away, at others sixteen and thirty thousand; but the only result of his gifts was to bring them back in greater numbers. The English people were in a pitiable condition, forced to raise these large sums to pay their enemies, who at the same time were pillaging and robbing them all over the country.
Then the King, who was too cowardly to fight, bethought him of another means to get rid of his enemies. On St Brice’s Day, 1002, he sent forth a secret order that all the Danes in the kingdom should be massacred in that single night. In many cases the Danes had become friends of the English people among whom they lived, or had married English wives and were living peaceably among the inhabitants; but on that terrible night each Englishman was forced by his miserable King to rise up and massacre in cold blood the Danish people who lived with him, even wives being compelled to betray their husbands and friends to put to death their friends. Among those who fell on that fearful night was a beautiful sister of Sweyn’s, who had married an English nobleman and embraced Christianity; she was living in England, and her presence there was looked upon as a pledge that Sweyn would not attack the kingdom. She was beheaded by command of one of the King’s worthless favourites, whom he afterwards raised to a high position and made governor of the Mercians. First he murdered her husband before her face, and her young son was pierced through with four spears, and finally she herself was beheaded by the furious Edric. She bore herself with fortitude and dignity, and people said that in death she was as beautiful as in life, for even her cheeks did not lose their colour.
Sweyn knew England well, for he had several times raided there in his youth, and he was probably kept fully informed of all that was going on by the Danish chief of the East Angles of Norfolk and Suffolk, who is well known both in Scandinavian and in English history. His name was Thorkill the Tall, and he was a great viking, and called himself king, even when he had no lands to rule over. He was one of the noblest born of the Danish men, and King Olaf the Saint of Norway was not ashamed to enter into partnership with him. In 1009 he sailed over to England with a vast army, and landed at Sandwich, taking Canterbury and overrunning all the south-east of England. Ethelred was so terrified by this fresh incursion that he called the whole nation out against the invaders; but in spite of this they marched about wherever they pleased, taking Canterbury and settling down upon East Anglia, from which point Thorkill the Tall ravaged the country. “Oft,” says the old chronicler, “they fought against London city, but there they ever met with ill fare;” but it was the only place of which this could be said.
When Thorkill had firmly seated himself in England he invited Sweyn to come over, telling him that the King was feeble, the people weak, and the commanders jealous of each other; and Sweyn, who was only awaiting his opportunity, got together his fleet, and landed at Sandwich in 1013. Before the year was out all England north of the Thames was in his power, and paid him tribute and delivered hostages. Turning south, he compelled Oxford and Winchester to submit, and committing his fleet and hostages to the charge of his son, Canute, he turned against London, the only city still holding out against him. Shut up within their walls, the Londoners awaited the onslaught of the Danes; inside were King Ethelred and Thorkill, who had deserted Sweyn and gone over to the King’s side. The Danes came on with headlong fury, not even waiting to cross the bridge, but flinging themselves into the river in their haste to get over; but at the firmly closed gates of the city they received a sudden check. The citizens made wonderful exertions, and forced back the Danes from their walls; many of them were carried away by the stream and drowned; and Sweyn was forced to retreat with the shattered remnants of his army to Bath, where the western lords, or thanes, submitted to him.
But the brave resistance of London and the faithfulness of the city made no impression on the wretched Ethelred, whose only thought was how he might escape from his kingdom, even though his going left the citizens without the semblance of a leader and open to the worst assaults of their enemies. But the King knew not which way to turn; he had alienated his friends and was despised by his foes. He fled first to the Isle of Wight, reaching the Solent by secret journeys, and thence he bethought him that he would pass over to Normandy, where his wife Emma’s brother, Richard the Good, was Duke. He remembered very well, however, that he had treated his wife cruelly, and he doubted whether Richard would be willing to receive him. But taking refuge now behind her whom he had formerly abused, he first sent Emma, with their children Edward and Alfred, to Normandy, hoping that if they were kindly received he himself might follow at Christmas. It was then the month of August, and they set forth on a calm sea, with the Bishop of Durham and Abbot of Peterborough to escort them, while Ethelred anxiously awaited the message they would send. It was not long before he learned the welcome news that Richard had received his sister with great affection, and that he invited the King also to condescend to become his guest. Delighted with this message, Ethelred lost no time in following his family to Normandy.
In the meantime Sweyn made himself master of the whole centre and north of England, and was acknowledged as “full king.” Even London, fearing worse evils, submitted; and Thorkill forced the inhabitants to support his army at Greenwich, while Sweyn required other parts of the country to raise provisions for his host.[33]
But an end was soon made of Sweyn’s ambitions, for shortly after Christmas, early in the year 1014, he suddenly died—people said through the vengeance of St Edmund the Martyr. The Danish army elected Canute, son of Sweyn, who was then in England, king in place of his father.
Chapter XXIII
The Battle of London Bridge “London Bridge is broken down”
When it became known that Sweyn was dead, it was agreed at a meeting of the Angles to send for Ethelred out of Normandy; for the people thought it would be wiser to have their own lord, if only he could conduct himself better, rather than another foreigner for their king; so they sent messengers to invite him to return. Ethelred was, however, as little trustful of his own subjects as he was of the Danes; and he first sent over his young son Edward to sound the English and see if they were really inclined to obey him. Edward found them full of friendship, and they swore to support their own princes, while every Danish king they declared to be a foreigner and outlaw from England for ever. When he heard this, Ethelred, flattered by the joyful greetings of his subjects, set to work to gather together an army against Canute, people flocking to him from every quarter. Among those who brought vessels to support him was Olaf the Thick, afterwards King Olaf of Norway. He came to the throne a year afterwards. On the death of King Olaf Trygveson at the battle of Svold, Norway had been divided up, and was ruled by Earl Eirik and King Sweyn. Olaf the Thick was a handsome man, and bold in his character and acts. It is told of him that he liked not his step-father’s ways, because his step-father, with whom he was brought up, was a careful householder, who attended to his farm and servant-men, and did not disdain to superintend the work in the fields or in the smithy himself. Of this the young Olaf was disdainful, and one day, when his step-father had sent him out to saddle his horse for him, he saddled a large he-goat instead. When his step-father went to the door and saw what Olaf had done, he looked at the lad and said: “It is easy to see that I shall get little obedience from thee. It is plain that we are of different dispositions, and that thou art a prouder man than I am.” Olaf said nothing, but went his way laughing.