|956 to 958.|
When Hako was preparing to put his menace into execution, intelligence reached him that the sons of his brother Eric had descended on the coast of Vikia, defeated king Trygve, and were laying waste the whole province, which they were likely to subdue. To oppose the common enemy was now his object, and that of his chiefs. Even the eight pontiffs, who had been so deeply offended with his contempt of their religion, joined him: they preferred the yoke of a mild Christian to that of cruel pagans, as the sons of Eric were known to be. All hastened to the southern coast, disembarked, and joined in the battle. It was hardly contested; but, in the end, victory declared for Hako: with Guthrum, the eldest of those princes, he fought hand to hand, and killed his antagonist. Many fell; the rest hastened to their ships, and took refuge in Denmark, where they were sure of a favourable reception from Harald Blaatand. They were pursued, indeed, by the victor; but they had the advantage in celerity. In consequence of this invasion, which would, probably, be repeated, Hako revived an ancient law for the protection of his coasts,—a law once general in the north, and adopted by our Saxon kings. It divided the kingdom into maritime districts, each extending from the sea-shore as far as the rivers could boast of salmon; and each compelled to furnish a certain number of vessels and men in proportion to its extent. In each district, these ships were always to be so far ready, that, when an enemy appeared within sight, they should, before he could reach the coast, be prepared to receive him. That the alarm might be communicated from one district to another, huge trunks of trees were placed on the summits of the mountains, and formed into piles, so as to be converted into huge watch-fires whenever the occasion demanded. They extended from the extreme angle of the south, to the remotest elevation of the north. Yet these wise precautions were of no avail when the sons of Eric, at the head of a powerful Danish armament, and of such piratical vessels as they had been able to engage, next appeared off the southern coast. The watch-fires were not lighted; and the progress of the hostile fleet was unknown to the king until it was near at hand. The cause of this negligence is very imperfectly explained. Snorro says that the signal fires were always to begin in the east,—as if pirates could not land in the west or north!—and run in a line to the extreme south, then northwards, to the extremity of Norway. He adds that, as the watchmen who should give a false alarm would be severely punished, they were loth to light these beacons until they were sure of an enemy’s presence. Probably the ships stood out too far from the coast to be descried by the naked eye; perhaps some of the pagan sentinels were more inclined to the restoration of Eric’s sons than to the sway of a Christian prince; perhaps, too, there was bribery. Great was the astonishment, greater still the dread, of king and people, when the armament anchored in Ulfasund. Both were unprepared; and the first idea of Hako was to retire into the north until he could be joined by vessels and men sufficient to resist the invaders: but one of his officers, who had often fought with king Harald, dissuaded him from this prudent step. The king’s father, he observed, had never considered the number of the enemy; he had fought with many and with few, yet, on all occasions, had won the battle. This was imprudent advice; for though, in the present case, Hako, being unexpectedly joined by a considerable force, defeated the enemy, and slew one of Eric’s sons, the adventure was a rash one, was purchased with much loss, and might have ended fatally. That similar negligence did lead to a fatal result, will soon be apparent to the reader.[[192]]
|958 to 963.|
That, on two successive occasions, the same negligence should be shown by the watchmen, and the same imprudent advice followed by the king, may induce, in the reader’s mind, a suspicion that Snorro has confounded the two. Hako was quietly seated at table, in one of his manor houses in the little island of Stord, off the coast of Hardaland, when a domestic entered to say that many vessels, which had a suspicious look, were in sight. The king and his guests, rushing out of the house, were satisfied that a hostile armament was actually approaching. It was led by Harald, who, since the death of his brother, was the eldest of Eric’s surviving sons. Hako, and the chiefs who happened to be with him, hastily collected all the men in the neighbourhood and advanced to repel the invaders. The battle engaged, and was, as before, desperately disputed. Hako performed his duty nobly: two champions of the enemy were soon laid at his feet; and the pirates were again put to flight, but not until Hako had received a mortal wound. He was carried on board a vessel, because he wished to be taken to one of his manors in the north; but the blood, which no art could stop, flowed so plentifully, that his cure was not expected. On reaching the manor he loved,—that in which he had been born,—he called his friends around him, and acquainted them with his last wishes. As he had only a daughter, Thora, he declared the sons of Eric his heirs; and despatched a messenger, both to acquaint them with this news, and to request that they would be merciful to his adherents,—to all, especially, who were bound to him by the ties of consanguinity. “Should my life be spared,” he added, “I will leave my throne and country, embrace the monastic life, and endeavour to atone for my numerous offences against God. If, as I feel, I shall die among pagans, bury me in whatever manner you please.” Soon afterwards, he breathed his last.[[193]]
From the tranquillity which Hako enjoyed in regard to his subjects during the last years of his life, we may infer that he had abandoned the hope of converting his people. It has been affirmed that he became at least half a pagan. This statement is abundantly confirmed by his dying words; by the fact that he was buried according to heathen rites; and by the universal belief that his soul ascended to the hall of Odin. On this subject we have the confirmation of a pagan bard, who describes the joy of the warrior god and his chiefs at the arrival of the Norwegian monarch.[[194]] It was, probably, as much for his religious indifference in the last years of his life, as from any other reason, that he was thus honoured. Yet all Norway bewailed him; whatever his faith, his virtues could not be mistaken; and the epithet which he so well deserved—that of Hako the Good—rendered his memory dear to his country. During his reign it enjoyed extraordinary abundance; robberies and violence were suppressed; the laws which he found in use he caused to be administered with vigour; and the new ones which he promulgated, and to which we shall advert in the proper place,[[195]] show that he was far superior to his predecessors in his care of the internal tranquillity.[[196]]
|963 to 969.|
Harald, surnamed Graefeld or Grey-mantle, the eldest son of Eric and Gunhilda, was now declared monarch of Norway. But the title had in it more of pomp than of real power. In the first place, his two brothers had also the regal title, and were placed over the central provinces of Norway. Then the eastern provinces were subject to the kings whom Hako the Good had placed over them; namely, Trygve, the son of Olaf; and Gudred, the son of Biorn. Nor was this all; for so popular was jarl Sigurd with the inhabitants of Drontheim, that they awarded him the privileges, though not the title, of king. Here, then, were five chiefs invested with the regal functions, and independent of one another; and, with the exception of occasional tributes, of Harald himself. This division of power could not be pleasing to Harald, who hoped one day to unite the scattered fragments of the monarchy; but for some time he was compelled to act with great caution. He acknowledged the authority of the three kings who were not his brothers, on the condition of their holding from him as they had formerly held from Hako the Good. But if even he had been sincere in these steps, the ambition of his mother, who shared in the councils of all her sons, would have led him to retrace it. She often represented to them that they had the title but not the power of kings; that if Trygve and Olaf enjoyed their kingdoms by hereditary claim, surely Sigurd, who was only a jarl, had none, and that to remove him would be an act of good policy. Harald replied that to remove so popular a chief “was not quite so easy as to kill a calf or a kid.” There were other ways, she rejoined, of effecting this object, than by open force. Sigurd had a brother who had not been raised to either wealth or consideration,—probably because he was unworthy of either,—and he was easily induced, by the promises of the king and of Gunhilda, to enter into a plot against the life of Sigurd. To throw the intended victim off his guard, extraordinary professions of friendship and splendid presents were transmitted to him by Harald. His motions were closely watched; and one night, while at one of his rural manors, with fewer attendants than ordinary, he perished in the flames of his own house. But the royal assassins reaped no advantage from this crime; for the inhabitants of Drontheim elected Hako, son of the deceased jarl, to the vacant dignity; and Harald, himself, was compelled to sanction the election. To fortify himself against the vengeance of the reigning family, Hako entered into a secret alliance with the two kings of the south, Trygve and Gudred. It did not escape the penetration of Gunhilda, who again entered into a secret conclave with her sons. The result was soon apparent. The royal brothers proclaimed their intention of undertaking a piratical cruise in the Baltic; and for this purpose, hastening towards the southern boundary of Norway, one of them invited king Trygve to join him. The latter accepted the proposal; but in hastening to an interview appointed by one of the brothers, he and twelve of his companions fell beneath the hands of a much superior band. While this deed was perpetrating, Harald, himself, disembarked; and hearing that Gudred was holding a feast at a house not far from the city, he hastened thither, surrounded the house, and destroyed both Gudred and his companions. The fruit of both deeds was the annexation of these provinces to the domains of the sons of Eric. But their vengeance was not complete; for Harald, surnamed Grenske, the son of Gudred, escaped first to the uplands, and when his life was not safe there, into Sweden, where he became a famous pirate.[[197]]
|969 to 977.|
No sooner were these crimes perpetrated, than the sons of Eric proceeded towards the north, with the avowed purpose of destroying Hako. Knowing the inferiority of his numbers, he betook himself to the piratical life, but not until he had devastated the central provinces subject to the sons of Eric. After his departure Drontheim submitted to them; but small was the advantage which they derived from this event. The next summer Hako returned; and though he was frequently absent on piratical expeditions into the Baltic, in winter he always commanded at Drontheim. Many were his conflicts with the forces of Harald; and, though sometimes defeated, he had always a sure resource either in the support of the inhabitants of Drontheim, or in his own ships. The sons of Eric were not popular: one of them, soon after the departure of Hako, dishonoured the bed of a noble chief, and was killed for the crime. Throughout the annals of this bloody period, we perceive the hand of retributive justice: the man who had exercised violence became its victim. Thus the treacherous brother of Sigurd, the man who had betrayed that respected chief into the hands of his murderers, was slain in battle by the hands of Hako his nephew. Thus died Erling, another of Eric’s sons. He was followed by his lustful brother: the inhabitants of Drontheim, which during one of the frequent expeditions of Hako he had seized, being unable to support his rapacity, rose against him, and sacrificed him to their just resentment. The fate of Harald, himself, was not distant. Though, by the destruction of two kings, the expulsion of Hako, and the death of most of his brothers, he was, nominally, monarch of Norway, he was unpopular. Nor was the absent Hako negligent in creating him many troubles from without. On Norway, ever since the days of Ragnar Lodbrog, the Danish kings had cast a longing eye; they considered it, no less than Sweden, as a portion of their vast inheritance; and Hako had little difficulty in persuading Harald Blaatand to aspire to the throne of that kingdom. As the equipment of a naval force would be expensive, and might be useless, it was resolved to entice Harald of Norway into Jutland, under the pretext of doing homage to Blaatand for the fiefs which he had formerly possessed in Denmark, and which were now to be restored to him. Harald, credulous enough to believe the invitation sincere, repaired to Jutland, and was soon compelled to fight with the superior numbers of a chief who had been secretly instigated to assail him. In that battle he fell, fifteen years after the death of Hako the Good, and thirteen from that of jarl Sigurd.[[198]]
|977 to 978.|