|998.|
But Olaf had seen more sturdy antagonists than wine-bibbing deities. Repairing to the north, he found that his attempts to convert the people were not always to be successful. To the states of Drontheim, which he had convoked at Froste, they repaired, all armed, and evidently intent on some important measure. After the assembly had been legally opened by Olaf, he commanded this people to embrace the Christian religion. A great clamour arose; and the people did what they had never yet dared—assert their superiority over him, command him to be silent, and threaten that, if he refused to obey, they would drive him from the kingdom. They had overpowered Hako, the godson of Athelstane, and they did not think Olaf in any respect superior to that monarch. The tone of Olaf was soon altered; he saw that the formidable body, who had been raised by the fatal arrow, could not be resisted on this occasion; and he expressed his wish to live on the best terms with all his people. In reply to their next demand, that he should join in the sacrifices, he promised to be present on the next great solemn festival, and then choose which religion he would follow. By this promise, and by his unusually placid manner, the wrath of the people was disarmed; and it was agreed that they should meet him at Laden, in the province of Moria. In the interval he prepared for the struggle. With a stronger force than he had yet brought to such assemblies, he proceeded to Laden. Before the business of the meeting was opened, he gave to the assembled people a magnificent entertainment, and all drank deeply, so as to become intoxicated,—the usual result of all northern feasts. The next morning, after the legal opening of the Thing, he arose, and thus addressed them:—“Countrymen! you well know what passed in the last assembly at Froste, and that we are here met to restore the pagan sacrifices which you so much desire. You also know with what contumely I have treated the gods,—how often I have thrown them to the earth, and burned their temples, and defied them to their faces. Now, according to your own creed, such deeds can be only forgiven by extraordinary oblations. If I must sacrifice, I will, as the chief pontiff, select such victims as I may approve. They shall be human victims,—yea, and the noblest amongst you!” With much solemnity, and in a most emphatic manner, he then mentioned the names of twelve chiefs,—the noblest in Norway, who were all present,—that were to be immediately immolated; and he called on his followers to lead them into the temple. The result may be anticipated: the terrified chiefs who were thus doomed, and all who feared the same fate, left the matter of religion to the king—they would no longer oppose him: the multitude were constrained by their example; and both the high and the low, young and old, were led to the baptismal font.[[220]]
|998.|
Encouraged by the success of this policy, Olaf now hastened into Drontheim, where the provincial states were assembled. Here, however, he experienced the same opposition. The people insisted, not only that he should leave them to the undisturbed exercise of their worship, but that he should, without delay, join in their sacrifices. Accordingly he entered the temple, accompanied by some of his own party, and of theirs. The chief idol, Thor, was seated in much barbaric grandeur, being covered with gold and precious stones. Olaf gazed for a moment; then, seizing a ponderous mallet, he struck the idol with such force that it reeled from the pedestal, and fell heavily on the floor of the temple. This was the signal for the rest of his followers, who, with the rapidity of lightning, hurled the remaining gods from their seats, with shouts of derision. At the same time, the leader of the opposition, a noble pontiff, was killed outside the temple. Olaf then addressed the multitude, and left them the choice whether they would be baptized, or fight him. They were willing enough to choose the latter alternative; but having no chief who could lead them on, they yielded, and were immediately regenerated in the sacred font. For their good behaviour in future, they were compelled to give hostages. To conciliate the family of the deceased pontiff, Olaf, who was now a widower, married Gudruna, the daughter; but he had soon to separate from her, since, on the first night of their nuptials, she attempted his destruction.—Olaf was not yet satisfied; the districts north of Drontheim, especially Halogia, were yet pagan; and he longed to convert, that is to baptize, the natives. When any of them, by accident, or stress of weather, touched in the ports of Norway, he hurried them away to the miraculous font; or, if they refused to go, he punished them for their obstinacy. Eyvind, a native of Halogia, furnishes an illustration of the manner in which the royal missionary attempted the conversion of individuals. Being brought into the presence of Olaf, he was exhorted to embrace Christianity; but he refused. Mild, persuasive language, in which the bishop (and there was always one in the royal precincts) joined, was at first adopted; but without success. Olaf then offered him large domains, to be held by the feudal tenure; still no assent. “Then,” added the enraged apostle, “thou shalt die!” A chafing dish of burning coals was brought, and laid on the belly of the pagan, whom death soon released from suffering. To avert the odium which must attach to the deed, a report was spread that, before his death, Eyvind had acknowledged that he was an evil spirit in the human form.[[221]]
|999.|
When the favourable season arrived, Olaf, with a large band of armed men, proceeded into Halogia to convert the people. In the south of that province they were unprepared for resistance, and the good work was unusually prosperous. But two chiefs in the north,—Raude and Thorer,—both zealously attached to paganism, both rich and powerful, equipped ships to oppose him. They were defeated; and Raude, who was a great magician, raised a wind by which he escaped. Not so Thorer, who was driven to the shore: though, from his swiftness, he was called the Stag, he could not outstrip the Irish dog, Vikia, which Olaf despatched after him.[[222]] Turning round, he wounded the animal; but a spear from Olaf entered his side. The victor now hastened after Raude, who had found a refuge in the island of Godey; but the magician raised such a tempest that there was no approaching the island. At the end of a week he proceeded farther to the north; and, after a successful course of preaching, again returned to the coast opposite to Godey. Still the elements raged. “What shall we do?” demanded the king, of Sigurd the bishop; “Defy the tempest,” replied the other, “and the demon who has raised it!” Saying this, Sigurd arrayed himself pontifically, took his seat at the helm, held out his censor smoking with incense, raised a huge cross, recited the gospel with many prayers, and sprinkled the ship with holy water. The effect was miraculous: where the vessel was there was a calm; on each side of it, the billows rose furiously. During the passage, the same wondrous phenomenon was seen: before them the sea was smooth as glass; to the right and left the tempest remained unabated. On reaching the bay, a huge dragon, that is, a ship, stood on the sands. Olaf heeded it not; but, hastening to the house of Raude, he bound the magician with fetters, killed some of the domestics, and captured others; and the same fate was inflicted on the military companions of the chief. Raude was then invited to receive baptism; if he did so, he should not be despoiled of his substance. Not only was the invitation spurned, but heavy curses were uttered on the king and his faith. This was not to be endured; and the royal missionary determined that this wretch should leave the world by a novel death. Raude was fettered and gagged; a serpent was brought to his mouth, and attempts made to force the animal down his throat; but it recoiled in affright. A horn was then passed between the magician’s teeth; the adder entered at one end, passed through the mouth into the stomach of Raude, and speedily ate for itself a way out again. Great was the spoil which awaited the victor: but his greatest pleasure was to execute such of the magician’s dependents as refused baptism. After these notable exploits, he returned into Drontheim.[[223]]
|998.|
Though Olaf was as much disposed to enforce the conversion of individuals as of large bodies of men, he was not equal to both tasks; and, in the former case, he sometimes devolved on others the important duty of a missionary. A story preserved by Gunlaug, the Icelandic monk, will illustrate the manner in which he exacted revenge when his efforts had been unsuccessful. Halfrod, the royal poet, was accused to Olaf of being still idolatrous in heart, and of worshipping a little image of Thor, which he carried in a bag. The accuser was Kalf, another domestic of the palace. The poet being summoned into the royal presence, indignantly denied the charge; and, in proof of his innocence, turned the bag in question inside out. “After this charge,” said the king, “you cannot both remain in the same house; let Kalf return to his farm.” Turning to the poet, whose sincerity he probably wished to test, he said, “Halfrod, thou must be my emissary to the uplands. There resides a man called Thorleif the Wise, who will not be converted. Formerly, I sent many persons to reason with him, but they had no influence over him. Now, I send thee, with an order either to kill or blind him: take with thee as many men as thou pleasest.”—“This commission,” replied the poet, “scarcely becomes a freeman; yet I will go wherever thou commandest. As my companion, I will take thy uncle Jostein, with twenty-two horsemen.” Away they rode; and, on reaching the wood near to the dwelling of Thorleif, they dismounted. Halfrod, who knew that the number of his followers would be insufficient if force were required, said to them, “I will go alone to Thorleif’s house; wait for me here three days; and if, at the expiration of that time, you see me not, return to your homes.” He would not permit even Jostein to accompany him. His first care was to disguise himself so completely that no eye could recognise him. In a mendicant garb, his face discoloured with the appearance of squalid wretchedness, he took his staff, and, when near to the house, began to move slowly and wearily, as if consumed alike by age and misery. Thorleif was sitting on a bench, in front of his house; the poet dragged himself along, and saluted him. “Who art thou?” was the demand of Thorleif. Halfrod told a piteous tale of his wanderings, his misery, his ill luck, his dangers: he had been so unfortunate as to be seized by the domestics of king Olaf, and hurried into the royal presence. As usual, conversion or death had been set before him; but he had escaped, and had, ever since, been the sport of the elements. He thought, however, that if he had continued rest, and good living, he should be restored to a portion of his former vigour. “Fame says that thou art liberal, and I hope thou wilt be so towards me.”—“Of the truth of thy story,” replied Thorleif, “I cannot judge; but if thou art an old man, thou must have seen much and learned much: but thy tongue runs somewhat smoothly for one so decrepit.” If the poet was not old, he had travelled enough to answer the questions of Thorleif. “There is a man,” proceeded the latter, “at the court of Olaf, by name Halfrod, of whom I have heard much.” Probably Thorleif began to suspect that the poet was before him; he knew that he should not long remain in peace; that his refusal to embrace the new religion must bring on his head the vengeance of Olaf; for, he added, “No doubt the emissaries of Olaf will soon be here.” In reply to his question concerning Halfrod, the pirate had a ready answer. He then, as if wholly exhausted, leaned on the bench, and the moment he saw Thorleif off his guard, he seized him with rapidity, and with a giant’s strength; but Thorleif struggled, and they both tumbled on the ground, the poet uppermost. In another moment one of Thorleif’s eyes was out of its socket. “What I have long foreseen,” said the pagan, “has now happened. I doubt not that the king has commanded thee wholly to blind or to kill me; I pray thee, however, to leave me the use of the other eye, and I will give thee rich presents.”—“I cannot accept thy gifts,” replied the poet, who had more fits of generosity than less tuneful minds, “but I will leave thee that eye, and take the responsibility upon myself.” He then arose, and returned to his men in the wood; nor did Thorleif display his misfortune until they were far enough from the neighbourhood to defy pursuit. But if Halfrod was sometimes generous, he was also vindictive. As they returned by the farm of Kalf, he said to Josteim, “Let us kill this man!” The other refused; but the poet rejoined, “It is not just that we should blind a good man, yet leave this wretch uninjured.” Saying this, he went to Kalf, who was throwing the seed into the ground, seized him, and put out one eye. On reaching the palace, Olaf inquired what he had done. “I have made Thorleif blind.”—“That is well,” rejoined the king; “show me the eyes!” In the hurry of the moment, the poet produced the one of which he had deprived Kalf. “This is not Thorleif’s eye,” observed the king; “thou hast done more than I commanded thee.” The other was produced. “This is Thorleif’s eye,” said the king; “now tell me all that thou hast done.” Halfrod did so, and was pardoned.[[224]]
|999.|
The success which through life had attended this extraordinary man did not continue to the close. On his separation from Gudruna, he sought the hand of Sigrida, surnamed the Imperious,—the Swedish princess who had destroyed Harald Grenske. She accepted him; many gifts passed between them; and an interview was appointed on the limits of the two kingdoms. Among the gifts was a huge ring of gold, which Olaf had taken from the temple of Laden. Two goldsmiths declaring to her that the metal was not pure, she caused the ring to be opened, and perceived that the interior was of brass. Indignant at the discovery, she declared that it was only one in many cases where she had been deceived by the king. Yet, at the appointed time, she met him, and the marriage was arranged. But Olaf insisted that she should renounce paganism, and receive the baptismal rite; but she refused to do either; and observed, with some wisdom, that as she should not interfere with his worship, she had a right to expect that he would not constrain her conscience. But the royal preacher was not fond of opposition; he called the queen by the most opprobrious epithet,—worse than an old heathen hag,—threw his glove in her face, and both separated for ever. Sigrida was not of a temper to bear this insult, and her future life was given to revenge. When, on the death of Gunhilda, daughter of Borislaf, a duke of Pomerania, Sweyn of Denmark, became a widower, she accepted the hand of that monarch, with the view of hastening her revenge. At the same time, Borislaf sought the hand of Thyra, sister of Sweyn, a young and beautiful princess, who, however reluctant, was forced by her brother to marry him. By this union she became entitled to the domains which her sister-in-law, Gunhilda, had enjoyed in Pomerania. But she detested the old pagan and his court. During the first week of her nuptials she abstained from food; on the eighth evening, accompanied by her foster-father, she hastened to a ship which was lying off the coast, embarked, and was landed in Denmark. Knowing, however, that, if her brother saw her, she should be sent back to the court of Borislaf, she concealed herself until a vessel was found to convey her to Norway. By Olaf she was well received; and, in a few days, she became his bride. By what casuistry he, who preached Christian morals to his subjects, reconciled to his conscience this double adultery,—he, the husband of Gudruna, marrying the wife of Borislaf, or how she, who also professed Christianity, consented to the match,—we need not inquire. History, which deals with facts rather than motives, has now to relate, that this scornful rejection of one princess, and this illegal marriage to another, led to the destruction of Olaf.[[225]]