The Story of Norway

by Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen

This prophecy was verified, for Harold Sigurdsson became king of Norway.

From Ringerike Olaf went southward to Tunsberg, where he intended to celebrate Easter. He carried the blind King Rörek with him, and seemed inclined by kindness to make him forget his hard fate. He gave him servants and money and the seat at table next to his own. But Rörek could not forget that he was of the race of Harold the Fairhaired, and that he had once been king. For a long while he disguised his feelings, appearing careless and jolly, while in his heart he was nursing plans of vengeance. First he induced his servant, Sweyn, to attempt the life of the king. But when in the critical moment the king looked hard at him, Sweyn grew pale, fell at Olaf's feet, and implored forgiveness. From that time Rörek was no longer allowed to sit at the king's table; but he continued to be well treated, although he had to submit to the company of two keepers, who were made responsible for his actions. These he killed by the aid of his friends, and made a futile effort to regain his liberty. But even after he had been brought back, the king took no vengeance upon him. On Ascension Day, 1018, Olaf attended mass, and Rörek accompanied him. When Olaf knelt down, the blind man laid his hands upon his shoulder, saying: "Thou hast ermine on to-day, kinsman." "Yes," said the king, "for to-day we celebrate a great festival in memory of Christ's ascent from earth to heaven."

"You tell me so much about Christ," said Rörek, "which I don't understand, and therefore can't remember; although, to be sure, many incredible things may have happened in ancient times."

When the mass commenced, Olaf arose, raised his hands above his head, and bowed toward the altar, so that his cloak fell from his shoulders. Swift as a flash Rörek sprang forward and made a lunge with his dagger at the place where the king had stood. The cloak was rent in twain, but the forward inclination of the king's body saved him. Rörek made a second thrust, but Olaf had by this time rushed out upon the floor, and was beyond his reach.

"Fleest thou now, Olaf the Big," shouted Rörek, "from me who am blind?"

He had put his hand on the king's shoulder merely to feel if he wore armor. The would-be murderer was now seized, but though many urged him, Olaf refused to put him to death. Being, however, compelled to protect himself from his machinations, he sent Rörek to Iceland, where, a few years later, he died. All the shire-kings had now lost their power, and for the first time in the history of Norway, no one had royal title in all the country except the king. It was as the representatives of a narrow local patriotism, which was shared by a large number of the people, that these men had been formidable, and to weld all the scattered tribes into one nation would have been impossible, without first breaking their power. But as has already been observed, to break their power, as long as the Asa faith was the national religion, was out of the question; because the old tribal chieftainships embraced also the priesthoods, and the hereditary dignity of the local priest-kings was thus hallowed by all the religious as well as the political traditions of the tribe. King Olaf's zeal for the Christianization of the country had, therefore, its political as well as its religious aspect; and it was no mere coincidence that he directed his energy simultaneously against the old gods and the men who derived the chief benefit from their worship. During the years of peace from 1020-1026 he devoted himself with unflagging ardor to this task of eradicating every vestige of heathenism, and bringing the laws and institutions of the land into conformity with the religion of Christ. It was a noble task and, if we overlook a certain tendency to violence which was in the spirit of the age, nobly performed. To perform it completely would have been a superhuman labor. The ideals and sentiments of men, of which their institutions are but the expression, do not change radically in the course of one or two generations. There are traces of a gradual change of sentiment, even before the days of Olaf Haroldsson, in favor of gentler and more peaceful ideals. Not only by bloody deeds was honor acquired, but a man could by just and honorable conduct, and particularly by insight into the law, make for himself a respected position, even if he was reluctant to unsheath the sword. Instances of this kind are, however, rare, and to draw general inferences from them would be hazardous. War was the Norseman's occupation, and his gods were war-gods. A life full of warlike achievements, and after death an honorable fame, he had been taught to regard as the worthiest objects of aspiration. Asceticism and humility he looked upon with pitying disdain, and the sublimity of self-sacrificing suffering, as revealed in Christ, could scarcely appeal to him. A god who consented to be slain by his enemies must have appeared to him quite an incomprehensible being, whose feebleness contrasted strikingly with the grandeur of the thundering Thor. The joys of Valhalla, the valkyrias with the mead-horns, the daily diet of pork, the exhilarating tumult of never-ending combat, and the glorious companionship with departed heroes, were in conformity with the ideas of happiness which his life and training had fostered; while the Christian heaven, with its prospect of unending praise, in the company of saints who had no taste for fight or craving for honor, must, by comparison, have appeared ineffably dreary. It is told of a Frisian chieftain, who was about to be baptized, that he suddenly turned to the priest and asked him where his brave forefathers were who had died unbaptized.

KNIVES OF IRON FOUND IN HEDEMARKEN AND HADELAND.

"They are in hell," answered the priest.

"Then," said the chief, flinging off his baptismal robe and stepping out of the water, "I will rather be in hell with Odin and my forefathers, who were brave and noble men, than in heaven with cowardly Christians and bald-headed monks."