Olaf was then in the position of a seeker after truth. He was inclined towards the religion of the Christians, but he had never acknowledged himself as one of their number.
He was seized with curiosity to test the powers of the hermit, so he dressed up one of his tallest and handsomest followers in his own armour and bade him go to the cell and pretend he was the King. The disguise was quite useless. “You are no king,” said the hermit, “and I advise you to be faithful to your King.”
On the strength of this proof, Olaf went himself to the cell to make inquiries concerning his own future. The hermit foretold that he should not only become a renowned king and perform many famous deeds, but that (far greater honour!) he should lead many into the true Christian faith. And for a sign he told him that on returning to his fleet he would meet with foes, a battle would be fought, he would be wounded severely and be carried on a shield to his ship, but would recover after seven nights and would soon after be baptized.
Events happened just as had been predicted, and Olaf was so much impressed that as soon as he had recovered from his wound he put himself under the hermit’s instruction, and enrolled himself as a servant of the God of the Christians.
Afterwards he went to Tresco, where was “a famous abbot, the head of a great cloister,” who with his brethren came down to the shore to meet the King and welcome him with all honour. They gave him further instruction in the Christian faith, and finally he and all his company were baptized.
He appears to have spent several years in Scilly; and when he returned to Scandinavia, it was to devote his energies to preaching, in his native land and in Iceland, the Gospel which he had learnt to love in these remote islands.
Such is the story as told by Snorri Sturluson, the Icelandic historian, in 1222. We must not rely on the accuracy of his details; for example, the “great cloister” to which he refers was probably only a cell of two Benedictine monks. But there is little doubt that he followed a trustworthy Scandinavian tradition in placing the conversion of their hero Olaf in such an out-of-the-way and little-known spot as Scilly.
So in these little islands there was lighted a torch which kindled the flame of Christianity in far-distant lands.
The Abbey on the island of Tresco was appropriately dedicated to St. Nicholas, the patron-saint of mariners. By the reign of Edward the Confessor (1042-1066) the monks had acquired the tithes of all the islands, and the exclusive ownership of St. Elid’s (St. Helen’s), St. Sampson, St. Teon (Tean), Reutmen, and Nurcho, the two last of which cannot be identified.
Scilly is not mentioned in Domesday Book; but we find King Henry I. granting to the Abbot of Tavistock “all the churches of Sully with their appurtenances.” Later, Reginald Earl of Cornwall confirms this grant, with all wrecks “except whale and a whole ship.”