The Story of Norway

by Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen

[A] Vigfusson translates syslu-madr, "prefect, bailiff, king's steward"; but he also translates gjald-keri and ar-madr with steward, and in this case correctly. The only English term I know for an officer whose functions correspond approximately to those of the syslu-madr is prefect, as the office now exists in France. Even this term is, however, imperfect.

[B] Munch, iii., 108.

Seeing that the king meant to deprive them of their ancient privileges, the remnants of the liegemen's party began to look about for a new pretender, whom they could put in the field against Sverre. Such a one was soon found in the person of a monk named Jon, who professed to be a son of King Inge Crookback. Though his story was evidently mendacious, there gathered about him a considerable band, which received the name Kuvlungs or Cowlmen. Not all the former adherents of Magnus did, by any means, join this band, but yet a sufficient number to make it formidable. Now began the usual depredations along the coast, attacks upon Bergen and Nidaros, indecisive fights and sudden retreats, occasional victories, and a great deal of destructive guerilla warfare. There was a suspicion that Archbishop Eystein, who hated Sverre, was the power that kept the Kuvlungs in motion, and it was obvious that he secretly favored them. The archbishop, however, died in 1188 having, as Sverre asserted, made peace with him on his death-bed. Soon after, the rebel band was destroyed in Bergen (1188) and their leader slain.

If Sverre had expected to sit at ease in the enjoyment of his power, he must by this time have been undeceived. He had indeed sown the wind, and he reaped the whirlwind. No sooner were the Kuvlungs out of the way than a new band, called the Varbelgs (Wolf Skins), was organized by the chieftain Simon Kaaresson, who picked up a pretender in the person of a child, named Vikar. This boy, who was but a few years old, was born in Denmark, and was alleged to be a son of King Magnus Erlingsson. But the deception was a little too barefaced to gain credence, and the Varbelgs came to an inglorious end at Bristein, near Tunsberg (1190), where both the little Vikar and Simon Kaaresson were slain. Rebellion had by this time grown so popular that any plausible impostor, who chose to take the risks, might expect to gain a considerable number of adherents. The many who were unable or indisposed to put up with the new order of things, preferred to stake all on a desperate chance rather than submit meekly to the terms of Sverre's amnesty. It was, therefore, of small consequence who headed the rebellion; the rebellious spirit which was abroad was sure to find expression, and was never in want of a leader. The successors of the Varbelgs were called Oyeskeggs (the Islanders), because their band was recruited largely from the Orkneys, where Earl Harold favored them. Their chieftains were Hallkel Jonsson, a brother-in-law of King Magnus, Sigurd Jarlsson, an illegitimate son of Erling Skakke, and Olaf, a brother-in-law of Earl Harold, of the Orkneys. All these had nominally submitted to Sverre and had received many favors at his hands. Nay, even after they had hatched their conspiracy, Olaf continued to act as the king's friend and sit at his table. Sverre was, however, not deceived by his duplicity. One day when they were talking together the king said: "Thou, Olaf, oughtest to have been faithful to me."

"Why do you say that, my lord?" asked Olaf.

The king, instead of answering directly, made a thrust with his knife in the air and said: "The followers of our foes are now swarming about us."

At this the traitor took alarm and quickly left the hall. Outside he met his foster-son Sigurd, who was said to be a son of King Magnus, and was later pushed into the rôle of a pretender by the Oyeskeggs.

"There we narrowly escaped a trap, foster-son," said he, as he took the boy by the hand and hurried away. He immediately set sail for the Shetland Islands, where he could mature his plans without interference. In the summer of 1193 he appeared with Hallkel and Sigurd Jarlsson and a large flock of rebels in Viken, where shire after shire submitted to them without resistance. There were, probably, no royal troops in Viken at this time, and the inhabitants, who had formerly been partisans of King Magnus, had not recently acquired any deep sense of loyalty to Sverre. When provisions became scarce, the rebel chieftains went aboard their ships and began to prey upon the shipping in the Belts. In this way they gained such large amounts of goods and money that they became known as the "Goldlegs" (Gullbeiner). In the autumn of 1193 they sailed northward, full of courage, hoping soon to make an end of Sverre, who was understood to have but few people about him. They met him at Florsvaag, near Bergen, and prepared for battle. His force amounted to about twelve hundred men, while the Oyeskeggs had two thousand. As it was too late to fight, when the fleets first approached each other, Sverre betook himself to the city with a few followers in order to get reinforcements. On his way back, it occurred to him that it might be a good plan to pay the rebels a visit. In a small boat he rowed stealthily, under cover of the darkness, up to the ship where the chieftains were having a council of war, and had the pleasure of hearing Hallkel Jonsson unfold the whole plan of the battle. He took his own measures accordingly, and by his well-calculated manœuvres frustrated their plans. The battle was, however, a bloody one, and fiercely contested. It looked badly for the Birchlegs for a while, but the arrival of ninety well-armed men from the city decided the day in Sverre's favor. The king of the Oyeskeggs leaped overboard, but was pierced by a spear while he was swimming shoreward. All the rebel chieftains, except Sigurd Jarlsson, and nearly all the men were slain (1194).

While thus indefatigably engaged in quelling rebellion, Sverre had another struggle on his hands which made even heavier demands upon his vigilance and energy. The church is not apt to look with favor upon one who deserts it, even for a throne, and the fact that the king had been admitted to the lowest order of the priesthood, so far from reconciling the priests to his authority, placed them in a hostile attitude to him. In spite of this, however, there is little doubt but that he could have bought their friendship by making the proper concessions. If he had been willing to ratify the agreement between Archbishop Eystein and Erling Skakke, hold his crown in fief from St. Olaf, which was but another name for the hierarchy, and give the bishops the right to exact similar conditions from his successors, his former deaconship would have proved no obstacle to his receiving the support of the Church. Sverre knew, however, too well the spirit of the priesthood to venture upon such concessions. It was his policy to make the monarchy strong enough to quell the unruly spirit of the aristocracy and give peace and security to the people. The Church had from the beginning taken sides against him, and secretly or openly aided every band of rebels which had endeavored to overthrow his government. No wonder that, apart from all other considerations, he was not favorably disposed toward the Church.

When Archbishop Eystein died, after having made a pretended peace with the king, Bishop Erik, of Stavanger, was elected as his successor. It is said that Eystein, on his death-bed, obtained Sverre's reluctant consent to this choice. At all events, Erik was chosen, and was no sooner warm in his seat, than he showed his disposition toward the king. Without consulting Sverre, he named for his successor to the bishopric of Stavanger one of his bitterest enemies, Nicholas Arnesson, a half-brother of King Inge Crookback. Sverre naturally objected, first because Nicholas had never taken orders, secondly because his election had taken place in an illegal manner, the king having not been present. For all that, he agreed in the end to waive his objections, because his queen, Margaret (a sister of the Swedish king, Knut Eriksson), interposed in Nicholas' behalf. The latter, who was a master of intrigue, had, by his humility and flatteries, gained the favor of the queen, and even Sverre, who was ordinarily a keen judge of men, was made to waver in his distrust of him. He was, however, soon to have his eyes opened. As soon as Nicholas had received his investiture, he again joined the ranks of the king's enemies, making common cause with the archbishop, who was indefatigably quarrelling with Sverre about the alleged prerogatives of his office. First, he wanted the fines and penances, payable to the Church in Tröndelag, to be rendered according to actual weight in silver, and not in the coin of the realm, which was but worth half its nominal value. Secondly, he wished to reserve for himself and his fellow bishops the right of making all clerical appointments, and thirdly, he claimed the privilege of surrounding himself with a kind of ecclesiastical court, and keeping ninety to one hundred men-at-arms in his service, although the law only allowed him thirty. To settle these points, Sverre summoned the archbishop to Frosta-thing, and, after having read him the law, decided against him. Full of wrath, the haughty prelate left the country, seeking refuge with Archbishop Absalon in Denmark, who received him cordially. Here he composed a letter to the Pope in which he bitterly complained of the king's usurpations and infringements of the rights of the Church. The Pope responded by putting Sverre in the ban and releasing his subjects from their oath of allegiance. Before the bull reached Norway, however, Sverre had induced the bishops, remaining in the country, to crown him at Bergen (June 29, 1194). Even Bishop Nicholas, who had recently been transferred from Stavanger to Oslo, had participated in this ceremony, though probably much against his will. Sverre treated the papal bull, at first, as a mere fraudulent invention of archbishops, Erik and Absalon, but that he was far from believing this to be the case is shown by the fact that he sent embassadors to Rome to present counter charges against the archbishop, and to explain the causes of the controversy from his point of view. As far as we know these embassadors accomplished nothing, and on their homeward way they died suddenly in Denmark (1197), having probably been poisoned. Soon after, a falsified papal bull was published by Sverre, in which the ban was revoked. It is not improbable that he was himself responsible for this falsification. It was a question of "to be or not to be" with him, and he had been long enough connected with the Church to know how to soothe his conscience in such a matter. It is, moreover, scarcely credible that any one else would have committed the fraud in his favor.