The Story of Norway

by Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen

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.