The Story of Norway

by Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen

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."