Edmund's act was that of a rebel; but in the Danelaw it was probably regarded in large part as proper vengeance. Thus fuel was added to the old fire that burned in the hearts of Dane and Saxon. The spirit of rebellion, so general in the kingdom, had now appeared in the royal family itself. Most significant of all, the Prince had probably thwarted a great ambition: how much of Mercia was under Eadric's control at this time we do not know; but a man of the ealdorman's type could scarcely be satisfied with anything less than the whole. And here was the King's son actually governing the strongholds of the earldom. Would he not in time supplant the low-born Eadric? We have in these transactions the most plausible explanation of Eadric's treachery a little later, when Canute was again in the land.
It was late in the summer,—some time between August 15th and September 8th, according to Florence of Worcester,—when Edmund appeared as claimant in the Danelaw. Those very same weeks must have seen the departure of Canute's fleet from Denmark. The expedition that now arrived in England was a most formidable one; statements vary as to the number of ships[101] and we know nothing as to the strength of the host; but it seems likely that twenty thousand men is not an extreme estimate. The entire North assisted in its make-up, though it may be that the Norse contingent under Earl Eric did not arrive till later in the year.[102] The distance to the earl's garth in the Thronder country was long; the Norwegian chiefs lived scattered and apart; a large force could, therefore, not be collected in haste.
Again the Encomiast seizes the opportunity to describe a Northern fleet. He mentions particularly the gleaming weapons of the warriors on board; the flaming shields that hung along the gunwales; the figureheads bright with silver and gold—figures of lions, of men with threatening faces, of fiery dragons, and of bulls with gilded horns. And he asks who could look upon such an armament and not fear the King at whose bidding it came. The warriors, too, were carefully selected:
Moreover, in the whole force there could be found no serf, no freedman, none of ignoble birth, none weak with old age. All were nobles, all vigorous with the strength of complete manhood, fit for all manner of battle, and so swift on foot that they despised the fleetness of cavalry.[103]
There is evidently some exaggeration here; the numerous "nobles" were probably plain freemen; still, it is clear that Canute led a valiant, well-equipped host.
But Canute was not the only adventurer who sailed in quest of kingship in 1015. While the youthful Prince was mustering his fleet in the straits of Denmark, Olaf the Stout was in Britain preparing to sail for Norway on a similar errand—to win a crown. But here all similarity ceases; two merchant ships and fewer than two hundred men made up the force that began the Norse revolt. Still, Olaf Haroldsson, too, was successful and bore the crown of Norway till he fell in war with Canute in 1030.
After the expulsion of the Danes from England the year before, Olaf seems to have returned to piracy; there is some evidence that he took part in an expedition of this sort along the coasts of Gaul as far as Aquitaine. On his return he seems to have visited Normandy, where he may have learned of Canute's intentions and preparations. The probability is strong that he was also informed of the part that Eric was to have in the venture, for he seems carefully to have timed his departure so as to reach Norway just after the earl had left the country to join Canute. He first sailed to England, stayed for a time in Northumberland, where he made the necessary preparations, and thence proceeded to the west coast of Norway.[104]
Fortune smiled on the bold adventurer. Soon after he had landed he learned that Hakon was in the neighbourhood and set out to capture him. In this he was successful: Olaf's ships were merchant ships, and the young unsuspecting earl rowed into a sound where the enemy was waiting for him and passed in between the supposed merchant vessels. Olaf had stretched a rope from ship to ship, and when the earl's boat was directly between them, Olaf's men pulled the rope till Hakon's boat capsized. The young chief and a few of his followers were saved. Olaf gave him quarter on condition that he should leave Norway, surrender his rights to sovereignty, and swear never more to fight against his stout opponent. Hakon took the required oaths and was permitted to depart. He hastened to England and reported the matter to his uncle Canute. But the English campaign had only fairly begun, so Canute was in no position to interfere. Hakon remained long with Canute, and in time was invested with an English earldom.[105]
Meanwhile, the Danish fleet had arrived at Sandwich; but from Kent, Canute did not sail north to his former friends in the Humber lands; he reverted to the old viking practices of harrying the Southwest, Dorset, Wilts and Somerset.[106] Whether this was his original plan cannot be known: it may be that the news of Edmund's activity in the Danelaw was to some extent responsible for this move. It was now autumn of the year 1015; but if England hoped that the host would soon follow viking customs and retire into winter quarters, the country was doomed to bitter disappointment; for the enemy now had a leader who saw no need of rest, who struck in winter as well as in summer.
Canute also differed from earlier chiefs in his ideas of conduct on the battle-field. The viking band, as a development of the Teutonic comitatus, was naturally inspired with its ideas of honour and valour. When the challenge to combat had been accepted, it was the duty of the warrior to conquer or perish with his leader; and it was the chief's duty to set an honourable example for his men. It was this spirit that animated King Olaf Trygvesson at Swald when his men urged the feasibility of flight before the battle had really begun. "Strike the sails," he commanded. "My men shall not think of flight; never have I fled from combat."[107]