"Early in this present summer King Burislaf renewed his pleadings that I should wed with him, and he sent Earl Sigvaldi into Denmark to carry me away. So well did the Earl prevail with my brother that Sweyn delivered me into his hands, and also covenanted that the domains in Wendland which Queen Gunnhild had had should be my dowry.

"Now, already I had become a Christian, and it was little to my satisfaction that I should become the wife of a pagan king and live for ever after among heathen folk, so on a certain dark and stormy night I fled away. A poor fisherman brought me over into Norway, where I knew that the people were all of the Christian faith, and so, after much trouble and privation, I have found my way hither."

Thus Thyra spoke with King Olaf. And when she had told him all her trouble he gave her good counsel and a kindly welcome, and said that she should always have a peaceful dwelling in his realm.

Now, Olaf Triggvison knew full well that in giving succour to Thyra he was doing that which would give great offence to King Sweyn of Denmark; and that Sweyn, when he heard that his sister was here in Norway, would speedily come over and carry her back to Wendland. Nevertheless, Olaf thought well of her ways and saw that she was very fair, and it came into his mind that this would be a good wedding for him. So when Thyra had been in Nidaros some few weeks he spoke with her again, and asked her if she would wed him.

Little loth was Thyra to obey his behests, for she deemed herself most fortunate in that there was a chance of her marrying so noble a king. So she yielded to him, and their wedding was held in harvest time, and celebrated according to the Christian rites. From that time onward they reigned together as king and queen of Norway.

All through that summer King Olaf busied himself in his shipyard, and in the early autumn the great ship's hull was well nigh finished. At this time Thorberg, the master shipwright, went home to his farmstead in Orkadale to gather in his harvest, and he tarried there for many days. When he came back the bulwarks were all completed.

On the same day of his return the king went down with him to the yard to see how the vessel looked, and they both agreed that never before had they seen its equal in size and in beauty of form. All had been done as Thorberg had designed, and great praise did he win from his master. But Thorberg said, nevertheless, that there were many things that he would have improved.

But early the next morning the king and Thorberg went again to the ship. All the smiths had come thither, but they stood there doing no work.

"Why are ye standing idle?" demanded Olaf in surprise.

"Because the ship is spoiled, O king," said one of the men, "and there is no longer any good in her! Some evil minded man has been at work in the night, undoing all that we have done!"

The king walked round to the ship's side, and lo! every plank along her bulwarks was hewn and notched and deeply gashed as with an axe.

"Envious mischief maker!" cried the king in a sorrowful voice. Then as he realized the full extent of the wreckage he swore an oath, and declared that the man who had thus spoiled the ship should die, and that he who should discover the evildoer would be well rewarded.

Then Thorberg went to his side, and said he: "Be not so wrathful, O king. I can tell you who it is that has done this mischief. It was I who did it."

"You!" cried the king. "You in whom I have trusted so long? You, who have taken so much pride in the building of this ship? Unhappy man! Know this, that you shall repair this mischief and make it good, or else you shall lose your life!"

Thorberg laughed lightly and said: "Little the worse will the ship be when I have done, lord."

And then he went to the ship and planed out all the notches and cuts, and made the bulwarks so smooth and fair that all who saw what he did declared that the ship was made far handsomer than she had been before. So well pleased was King Olaf that he bade Thorberg do the same on the other side, and gave him great praise and reward.

Late in the autumn the hull was finished and painted, ready for launching. Bishop Sigurd sprinkled the vessel's bows with holy water, and as she slipped over the rollers into the sea King Olaf named her the Long Serpent.

There was yet much to be done before she would be ready for sea; but such work as the stepping of her two masts, fitting her standing rigging, caulking her deck planks, fashioning her cabins, and adorning her prow and stern could best be done when she was afloat.

The Long Serpent would not be considered a very large vessel in these modern days, but she was the largest ship known to have been built before the time of King Canute, and she was, so far as it is possible to calculate, exactly double the size of the ship in which Columbus crossed the Atlantic. Her length was not less than two hundred feet. Her breadth between the gunwales was about forty feet. It is not probable that she was very deep in the water; but of this there is no record. She was fitted with thirty-four "rooms" amidships, each room being divided into two half rooms. These half rooms accommodated eight men whose duty it was to attend to one of the long oars. Thus, there were thirty-four pairs of oars and five hundred and seventy-four rowers. Between the half rooms, and also along the bulwarks, there were wide gangways, running fore and aft. There was a large forecastle in which the warriors slept and took their meals, and abaft the main mast there was another cabin called the "fore-room", in which King Olaf had his high seat, or throne. Here he held his councils. Here, too, he had his armour chests. Thirty men lived in the fore-room.

King Olaf's own private cabin was under the "lypting", or poop. It was very splendidly furnished, with beautifully carved wood and tapestries of woven silk. Only his chosen companions and his personal servants were allowed to enter this apartment. Above it there was a large deck which in the time of battle was occupied by the king and his most valiant warriors.

The prow of the Long Serpent, which rose high above all other parts of the hull, took the form of a dragon's head and shoulders. This ferocious looking monster, with wide open jaws and staring eyes, was covered with beaten gold. At the vessel's stern stood the dragon's twisted tail, and this also was plated with gold. Close beside it was the handle of the steering board, which was usually held, when at sea, by King Olaf himself or his chief captain.

It was not until the middle of the next springtime that the ship was ready for sea. Then Olaf had his fair weather sails hoisted. They were as white as newly fallen snow, with a large blood red cross in the middle. Banners of silk streamed from the masthead and from the yardarms, and a most beautiful standard fluttered from a tall staff on the lypting. The midships tent, which shielded the rowers from the glare of the strong light, was striped with red and blue. The weather vanes and the dragon glittered in the sun, and the men on the decks were arrayed in their best, with their polished brass helmets and gaily coloured cloaks. King Olaf himself was most splendidly attired. He had on a newly wrought coat of chain mail, which was partly covered by a mantle of fine crimson silk. His helmet was made of burnished copper, inlaid with gold ornaments and surmounted by a gold dragon. Near to him, as he stood at the tiller, his shield was hung up. It was the same shield that he had bought from Thangbrand, bearing the image of the crucifix.

Great crowds of people assembled on the banks of the Nid. They all thought it a most wonderful sight, and they cheered lustily as, in answer to a loud blast from the king's bugle horn, the rowers began to pull. As the great vessel glided out of the river with her eight and sixty oars moving in regular strokes she looked like a thing of life. Never in all time or in all lands had such a magnificent ship been seen.

Olaf steered her out into the blue waters of Thrandheim Fiord, and then as the wind caught her sails the oars were shipped and she sped onward with such even speed that all were astonished. Not far had she gone when she came in sight of Olaf's other dragonship — the Short Serpent, as she was now called—which had been sent out an hour in advance. In spite of the long start that she had had, the smaller vessel was quickly overhauled and passed, as though she had not been moving. Olaf had wanted to have a race; but now he saw that this was useless; for the Long Serpent had proved herself to be not only the most beautiful ship to look upon, but also the quickest sailer of all vessels afloat.

Out into the sea he took her. There was a strong breeze blowing and the sea was rough. She rode easy upon the waves, both before and against the wind, and Olaf was well pleased. So, when the trial cruise was over, he returned to Nidaros, satisfied that if ever he should be drawn into a war with any foreign power he had a battleship which no enemy could equal.

Now King Olaf lived in happiness and contentment with Queen Thyra, and there was great love between them. But there was one thing which gave the queen much trouble, and over which she was for ever fretting. It was that, by reason of her flight from Wendland, she had forfeited all the possessions that had been reserved as her dowry. She felt that, here in Norway, she had no private wealth of her own such as beseemed a queen, whereas there were her great estates in Wendland and Denmark, from which large revenues were due. Again and again she spoke to the king on this matter, praying him with fair words to go and get her her own. King Burislaf, she declared, was so dear a friend of King Olaf that so soon as they met he would surely give over to him all that he craved. But Olaf always shook his head and asked her if she did not think that there was wealth enough for them both in Norway. But Thyra was not satisfied with this constant delay. Whenever her husband spoke with her she always contrived to bring in some peevish mention of her estates. She wept and prayed and pleaded so often that Olaf's patience was well nigh exhausted. It seemed that if only for the sake of domestic peace an expedition to Wendland must soon be brought about. Nevertheless, all the friends of the king, when they heard of this talk, advised him against such a journey, for they knew full well that it must end in a war with the queen's brother, Sweyn Forkbeard. On a certain day in that same spring, when it was nearing Eastertide, King Olaf was passing down the street, when by the marketplace a man met him, and offered to sell him some very fine spring vegetables. Olaf noticed that he had some large angelica heads. This was a herb very much valued in those days and eaten as we now eat celery. The king took a great stalk of the angelica in his hand and went home with it to Queen Thyra. He found the queen in her hall weeping for her lost estates.

"See here the big angelica I give thee," said he.

The queen rose and thrust the vegetables contemptuously aside, and, with the tears streaming down her cheek, cried: "A pretty gift indeed! Greater gifts did my father, Harald Bluetooth, give me when, as a child, I got my first tooth! He did not fear to come over here to Norway and conquer this land; whereas you, with all your boasted glory and your great ships, are so much afraid of my brother Sweyn that you dare not venture into Denmark to get me what belongs to me, and of which I have been shamefully robbed!"

Then up sprang King Olaf and retorted with an angry oath: "Afraid?" he cried. "Never have I gone in fear of your brother Sweyn, and I am not afraid of him now. Nay, if we ever meet, he shall surely give way before me! Now—even now—I will set sail for Wendland, and you shall have your wretched estates!"



CHAPTER XIX: SIGVALDI'S TREACHERY.

So, when Eastertide with all its religious ceremonies had passed by, King Olaf summoned a great gathering of his people, whereat he set forth that he intended to make an expedition into the Baltic, and that he required a levy from every district, both of men and of ships. He then sent messengers north and south along the land, bidding them muster his forces. The ships were to assemble in Thrandheim Fiord in the first week in summer.

Olaf paid great attention to the manning of the Long Serpent, and his seamen and warriors were so well chosen that it was said that the crew surpassed other men as far in strength and bravery as the Long Serpent surpassed other ships. Every man was picked by King Olaf himself, who determined that none should be older than sixty years, and none younger than twenty. He made only one exception to this rule. It was in the case of Einar Eindridson, surnamed Thambarskelver. Einar was but eighteen years old; but, young though he was, he was considered the most skilful archer in all Norway. With his bow, called Thamb, he could fire a blunt arrow through a raw ox hide, and not even King Olaf could aim more true or hit the mark at a greater distance. In after years Einar became a very famous warrior and lawman, and his name is often mentioned in the history of Norway. Wolf the Red was King Olaf's banner bearer, and his station was in the prow of the Serpent, together with Kolbiorn Stallare, Thorstein Oxfoot, Vikar of Tiundaland, and others. Among the forecastle men were Bersi the Strong, Thrand Squinteye, Thorfinn the Dashing, Ketil the Tall, and Ogmund Sandy. Thirty of the best men were in the fore-room, in front of the poop. Young Einar Eindridson was stationed in the main hold among the rowers. The complete ship's company numbered seven hundred men.

The Short Serpent was commanded by Thorkel Nefja, a kinsman of Olaf's; and Thorkel the Wheedler (brother of Queen Astrid) commanded the Crane. Both these ships were very well manned. Eleven other large ships left Thrandheim with Olaf, also some smaller vessels of war, and six that were loaded with stores. He set sail with this fleet in the early days of the summer, and Queen Thyra went with him. Southward he sailed, and as he came in turn to fiord after fiord many vikings and wealthy warriors joined him with their ships. When at length he stood out across the Skager Rack, he had a fleet of sixty longships and sixty smaller transports, and with these in his wake he sailed south along Denmark through the Eyr sound, and so to Wendland.

This expedition was not made with any warlike intent. Olaf did not expect that war would follow. But he knew that King Sweyn Forkbeard was his bitterest enemy, and that there was danger in passing so near to Denmark, and he thought it well to have a large number of battleships in his train in case of need.

He arrived off the Wendish coast without being in any way molested, and he anchored his fleet in the great bay of Stetten haven. Thence he sent messengers to King Burislaf appointing a day of meeting. Burislaf invited him to go inland and be his guest at his castle, and Olaf went, leaving Queen Thyra behind on board the Serpent, for she would by no means consent to come into the presence of the man whom she had jilted.

King Burislaf received him well, and gave him splendid hospitality. Olaf spoke of his queen's estates and of the revenues that were due to her. Burislaf was a just man in his own heathen way, and he answered that, since he had not got the wife that had been promised him, he did not think it right that he should enjoy her dowry. So he yielded to Olaf's claims, and at once delivered to him the full value of Queen Thyra's estates. Olaf abode in Wendland for many days, and at length returned to the coast, carrying with him a great store of gold and jewels, which, when he went on board his ship, he gave to his queen.

Thyra was now well satisfied, and never again did she attempt to taunt King Olaf concerning her estates. On the contrary, she gave him all praise for having done so much for her sake, and all her contempt of his seeming cowardice was turned to admiration of his courage.

Now, at this same time King Sweyn Forkbeard was in Denmark, living with his new wife, Queen Sigrid the Haughty. Even as Thyra had taunted Olaf Triggvison concerning her possessions in Wendland, so had Sigrid taunted Sweyn Forkbeard concerning her hatred of King Olaf of Norway. She could never forget how Olaf had smitten her in the face with his glove, and from the earliest days of her marriage with King Sweyn she had constantly and earnestly urged him to wage war against Olaf Triggvison. Sweyn, knowing the risks of such a war, turned a deaf ear to his proud wife's entreaties. But when at last Sigrid heard that Olaf had given protection to Sweyn's sister, and made Thyra his queen, she renewed her urging with increased earnestness, and so well did she succeed that Sweyn was roused to great anger against King Olaf, and he resolved to get ready his forces and abide by Queen Sigrid's counsel.

He was in this belligerent mood when the rumour reached him that Olaf Triggvison was at sea with his fleet, and was minded to make the voyage to Wendland. With this rumour also came news of the splendid dragonship that the Norse king had built.

Now, Sweyn Forkbeard was a very cautious man in the affairs of war, and he well knew that he was himself no match for so powerful a warrior as Olaf the Glorious. But he remembered that he was not alone in his desire to humble the monarch of the Norselands. His own son in law, Olaf the Swede King, had sworn by Thor's hammer to avenge the insult to his mother Queen Sigrid the Haughty, and the help of the Swede King in this war would be of great account. In addition to the King of Sweden there was Earl Erik of Lade, who was eager to take vengeance upon Olaf Triggvison for the slaying of his father Earl Hakon. Since the coming of King Olaf into Norway, Earl Erik had become famous as a viking; he had engaged in many battles both on land and on the sea. It has already been told how he fought in the sea fight against the vikings of Jomsburg. He was now one of the strongest war men in all Scandinavia, and his fleet of battleships was equal to that of either Sweyn of Denmark or Olaf of Sweden.

So when Forkbeard heard that Olaf Triggvison had entered the Baltic he sent men east into Sweden, bidding them give word to the Swede King and to Earl Erik that now was their time if they would join in battle against their common foe.

Sweyn Forkbeard was at this time very friendly with Earl Sigvaldi, the chief of the Jomsvikings, and he enlisted his help. It happened that Sigvaldi's wife, the Princess Astrid, was then staying at the court of her father King Burislaf, in Wendland. It was, therefore, a very natural thing that the earl should go thither also. Sweyn urged him to make the journey, to spy upon King Olaf's fleet, and to lay such a trap that Sweyn and his allies should not fail in their object. Earl Sigvaldi undertook this mission, and fared eastward to Wendland with eleven longships. Meeting King Olaf he made pretence to renew his old friendship with the man whom he had formerly known as Ole the Esthonian. He flattered him, praised his great wisdom, and, more than all, spoke highly of his fleet and the surpassing splendour of the Long Serpent. Their discourse was most friendly at all times, nor did Olaf for a moment suspect the treachery that underlay the earl's soft speeches and his seeming goodwill. Deep into the king's open heart Sigvaldi wormed his way, until they were as brothers one with the other. When Olaf hinted that he would be going back to Norway, that the weather was fair for sailing, and that his men were homesick and weary of lying at anchor, Sigvaldi made some plausible excuse and still held him back; and the time went on, the summer days grew shorter, and yet Olaf made no move.

But on a certain day there came a small fishing boat into the bay, and dropped anchor near to the earl's longship. In the darkness of the next night one of her men had speech with Sigvaldi, and gave him the tidings for which he had so long waited. These tidings were that the host of the Swede King had now come from the east, that Earl Erik also had arrayed his forces, and that these lords had joined with Sweyn Forkbeard, and all were sailing downward to the coast of Wendland. They had appointed to waylay King Olaf Triggvison in a certain channel running between the mainland and the island of Svold, and Sweyn had now sent this messenger bidding the earl to so bring it about that they might fall upon King Olaf in that place. On the next morning Sigvaldi put out one of his boats, rowed alongside of the Long Serpent, and stepped upon her deck. He found King Olaf sitting at his ease against the rail, carving runes upon the lid of a wooden box that he had made for the holding of the queen's jewels. Sigvaldi did not disturb him, but took a few turns across the deck and looked up into the sunlit sky. The king blew away the chips of wood that he had been cutting from the box lid and looked up.

"A fairer and finer day for sailing I have never yet seen," said he. "Why should we not heave anchor this very morning? The wind bodes well for a free run westward, and in truth, Sigvaldi, I am getting wearied of this idleness and the sight of these sandy shores."

"Let it be so by all means if you so wish it," answered the earl in a light tone of unconcern. "I, too, should be not ill pleased to be once more upon the open sea, although I shall be sorry to make an end to our close intercourse, for the sooner we sail the sooner must we part."

"The parting need not be for long," said the king. "I am hoping that you will soon see your way to coming north to Thrandheim, there to spend many happy summer months with us. And we may take a cruise in the Long Serpent across to the Orkneys, or north even to Iceland."

A mocking smile played about the earl's lips.

"You are ever ready with your bright plans for the future, King Olaf," he said, as he raised his great hand to stroke his bushy black beard. "But the next summer is a long while off, and it may be—who can say?—it may be that we shall not then be both alive."

King Olaf gave a playful laugh.

"Your thoughts are passing gloomy this morning," said he. "Why should you speak of death? You are still but in the prime of manhood, and are blessed with the best of health. As to a death in battle, you, who are still a believer in Odin and Valhalla, can have no fear of warlike enemies."

"It was not of myself that I was thinking," returned Sigvaldi.

"Then why should it be for me that you fear?" asked Olaf. "I am of a long lived race, and, since I am now a man of peace and no lover of bloodshed, I am not likely to be mixed up in any wars—at least, not wars of my own making. And there is but one man I know of who has any wish to wage battle with me."

"Who is that?" questioned Sigvaldi.

"King Sweyn of Denmark," answered Olaf. "And it seems that he is at this very time abroad with his hosts in search of me."

A look of alarm came upon the earl's dark face. He marvelled how Olaf had come to hear this news, and he feared also that his own schemes might end in failure.

"These are strange tidings you tell, King Olaf," he said. "One would think that, like Odin, you employed the birds of the air to bear you news."

"The bird that told me these matters was but a poor fisherman," said Olaf. "Yesternight I met him on the shore, and, seeing that he was a Dane, I had speech with him, and he said that King Sweyn, with two or three longships, had been seen bearing southward to Wendland."

Earl Sigvaldi breathed a deep breath of relief. There was still great hope of his scheme succeeding. He glanced round the bay at Olaf's great fleet, and thought of the reward that Sweyn had offered as the price of his treachery.

"Little would it avail King Sweyn to enter unaided into a battle with so well equipped and so brave a warrior as you, King Olaf," he said. "But, for my own part, I do not believe this tale. I have known the Dane King in past times, and he is far too wary to attempt so bold an attack. Howbeit, if you misdoubt that war will beset your path, then will I be of your company with my ships. The time has been when the following of the vikings of Jomsburg has been deemed of good avail to mighty kings."

Then when the earl had gone off to his own ships, Olaf turned to go below to his cabin.

At the head of the cabin stairs he was met by young Einar Eindridson.

"So please you, O king," said the lad in a halting voice, "it chanced yesternight that I had a dream —"

"Well," smiled the king, "and what of that? The people of heathen lands deem it a grave misfortune if a man cannot dream; therefore you may be accounted fortunate."

"Dreams may sometimes avert misfortune," said the lad, "and this that I dreamt yesternight may be of service to you, my master. While I slept, it seemed to me that I saw you standing at the brink of a deep well of water. At your side stood the Earl Sigvaldi. Suddenly he put his hand upon your back and pushed you forward, so that you fell into the water and sank deep, deep down, and then all was dark. I am no great reader of dreams, O king; but this one has sorely troubled me, for I fear that Earl Sigvaldi is a treacherous friend, and that he is now minded to do you an injury."

"Leave the reading of such sleeping fancies to wizards and witches, Einar," said King Olaf. "It is not for Christian folk to inquire into the future. We are in God's hands, and He alone can determine what path we shall tread. As to my good friend Sigvaldi, I will hear no word against him."

Now when Olaf went into the cabin, he found there Sigvaldi's wife, the princess Astrid, who had been for some days in companionship with Queen Thyra. Astrid warned him, as openly as she dared, that her husband was working against him. But Olaf turned aside her warnings with a jest. A strange infatuation bound him to his false friend, and nothing would shake his confidence. He resolved to abide by the earl's advice in all things.

It was yet early morning when King Olaf again went on deck. The wind blew light from the southeast, and all was favourable for departure. Loud over the bay sounded the bugle horns. Mariners cried aloud in their joy as they hoisted the yards. The sails fluttered out in the breeze, and the anchors were weighed. Gaily the ships sped out of the wide bay, and forth through the western channel past the vikings' stronghold of Jomsburg. Seventy-one keels in all there were, and the smaller vessels led the way, right out into the open sea, nor waited to know which course the king should take, for all knew that they were homeward bound for Norway, and that although there were many ways, yet they all led north beyond Denmark, and so onward into the breezy Skager Rack.

Little did Olaf see the need of keeping his fleet together. He feared no foe, and was well aware that every craft had a trusty crew who were fully able to look after their own safety. His own knowledge of these seas told him also that, however much his ships might be scattered in crossing the Baltic, they must all gather together again, as he had commanded, before entering the Eyr Sound.

Now the treacherous earl, whose craft and cunning had been busily at work throughout that morning, saw, in this scattering of the ships, the fulfilment of his dearest hopes. King Sweyn had enjoined him beyond all things to so manage that Olaf Triggvison should be separated from the main body of his fleet, so that he might thus fall into the trap that was laid for him, and be speedily overcome by the superior force that now awaited him behind the island of Svold. Sweyn Fork Beard's plans were well laid; and if Earl Sigvaldi could but contrive to lead Olaf between the island and the mainland, instead of taking the northward course across the open sea, success for the allies was certain.

The earl was careful to keep his own vessel within the close neighbourhood of the Long Serpent. In the wake of these two sailed the earl's ten other viking ships and a similar number of King Olaf's largest dragons, including the Short Serpent and the Crane.

The remaining portion of the king's fleet had already passed in advance, bending their course due north. Sigvaldi had tried, by delaying Olaf's departure out of the haven, to still further reduce the number of the king's immediate followers. But he knew the extent of Sweyn Fork Beard's forces, and he was content that Olaf should retain such chances as were afforded by the support of eleven of his best battleships.

Now Olaf was about to steer outward into the sea when Sigvaldi hailed him.

"Follow me!" cried the earl. "Let me be your pilot, for I know all the deepest channels between the isles, and I will lead you through them by such ways that you will come out far in advance of your other ships!"

So King Olaf, over confident and never dreaming of treachery, followed westward into the Sound, and went sailing onward to his doom.



CHAPTER XX: CAUGHT IN THE SNARE.

King Sweyn of Denmark and his allies lay with their war hosts in a large sheltered vik, or bay, on the western side of the isle of Svold. This position was well chosen, as the bay formed a part of the channel through which—if Earl Sigvaldi fulfilled his treacherous mission—King Olaf Triggvison was certain to pass into the clutches of his foes. There were seventy war galleys in all, and each vessel was well manned and fully prepared for battle. The larger number belonged to King Sweyn; but the longships of Earl Erik were in all respects superior to those of either Denmark or Sweden.

Earl Erik himself, too, was the most valiant warrior. Excepting only Olaf Triggvison there was not a braver or more daring chief in all the lands of Scandinavia. Trained from his earliest youth to a life of storm and battle, Erik had never known the meaning of fear, and it might almost be said that he had never known defeat. His own bravery and skill had inspired every one of his viking followers with the same qualities. As his men were, so were his ships—they were chosen with the main view to their fitness for encountering the battle and the breeze. His own dragonship, which had stood the brunt of many a fierce fight, was named the Iron Ram. It was very large, and the hull timbers at both bow and stern were plated with thick staves of iron from the gunwales down to the waterline.

For many days had these ships lain at anchor in the bay, and as each day passed the three chiefs grew more and more impatient for the coming of their royal victim. Many times and again had they sat together in King Sweyn's land tent, discussing their prospects and planning their method of attack. Their purpose was not alone to wreak vengeance upon King Olaf for the supposed wrongs that each of the three had suffered at his hands. The idea of vengeance, indeed, stood only second to the great hope of conquest and of personal gain, and they had made this secret bargain among themselves, namely, that in the event of Olaf Triggvison being slain, they should each have his own third share of Norway. To Earl Erik were to be given all the shires along the western coast from Finmark to Lindesness, with the exception of seven shires allotted to Olaf the Swede King. All the shires from Lindesness, including the rich district of Agder, to the Swedish boundary, were to be taken by Sweyn Fork Beard; excepting only the realm of Ranarike (to this day a part of Sweden), which was to be given to the Swedish king.

It was further agreed among the three chieftains, concerning the expected battle, that he who first planted foot upon the Long Serpent should have her for his own, with all the wealth that was found on board of her; and each should take possession of the ships which he himself captured and cleared of men.

Touching this same arrangement Olaf Sigridson was not well content, for he knew that both Erik and Sweyn were better men than himself, and that in contending for the prize he would have but a sorry chance if either of his companions should enter the battle before him.

"It seems to me," said Sweyn, on a certain morning when they were talking this matter over, "that the fairest way of all would be that we should cast lots or throw the dice; and let it be that he who throws the highest shall be first to attack King Olaf's own ship."

So they brought out the dice box and each cast his lot in turn. Earl Erik threw a two and a five. Then the Swedish king took up the dice and he threw two sixes.

"No need is there for a third to throw!" he cried. "Mine is the first chance, and, by the hammer of Thor, the Long Serpent shall be mine also!"

But King Sweyn had still to take his throw.

"There are yet two sixes on the dice," said he, "and it is easy for the gods to let them turn up again."

He made his cast, and there were again two sixes. But one die had broken asunder, showing a three as well as the two sixes. Thus Sweyn was the victor, and it was agreed that his ships should take the centre of battle and lead the attack upon the Long Serpent.

When this matter was decided the three chiefs went up upon the heights of the island, as they had done every morning since their coming to Svold, and stood there with a great company of men. They looked eastward along the line of the Wendic coast, and as they watched they saw a great number of ships upon the sea, bearing outward from Stetten haven. The weather was very bright and clear, and the sunlight, shining upon the gaily coloured sails and upon the gilded prows, made a very fine sight.

Earl Erik noticed with some concern that the fleet was making due north. But Sweyn said: "Wait, and you will see what our good Sigvaldi will do when he comes into sight!" So they waited and watched.

In about an hour's time they saw many larger and finer vessels appearing. But they were yet too far off to be clearly recognized. Sweyn was very silent for a time, and he kept his eyes fixed upon the ships, noting their every movement. At last he cried aloud:

"Now I can see that Sigvaldi is doing as we bade him. No longer do the ships stand outward into the main. They are bearing westward for Svold! Let us now go down to our ships and not be too slow in attack."

So they all went down to the lower land and Sweyn sent boats out to bid the shipmen weigh anchor and prepare for battle as quietly as might be.

Now the channel through which Sigvaldi was to lead the Norsemen was full wide, and deep, but it had many turns and twists, and before the ships could enter the bay, where their enemies awaited them in ambush, they had need to pass round an outstretching cape. On the ridge of this cape, and hidden by trees, King Sweyn and his companions took their stand, knowing that although they might wait to see the whole of King Olaf's fleet pass by, they would still have ample time to board their ships and be in readiness to meet their victim ere he entered the bay.

It was not very long before they saw a large and splendid dragon sailing proudly into the channel. It was the ship of Eindrid of Gimsar.

"A great ship, and marvellous fair!" cried King Sweyn. "Surely it is the Long Serpent herself!"

Earl Erik shook his head and answered: "Nay; though this ship is large and fine it is not the Long Serpent."

Shortly afterwards they saw another dragon, larger than the first; but the dragon's head had been taken down from the prow.

King Sweyn said: "Now is Olaf Triggvison afraid, for he dares not sail with the head on his ship!"

"This is not the king's ship," returned Earl Erik with confident denial; "for by the green and red striping of her sails I know that her captain is Erling Skialgson. Let him pass on! If, as I believe, he is himself on board, we shall be better served if he and his band are not found among those with whom we are to fight this day."

One by one, in irregular order, the great ships of the Norse chieftains sailed by, and with each that passed, King Sweyn or Olaf of Sweden cried aloud: "Now surely this one is the Long Serpent!" But Earl Erik the Norseman recognized every one, and told her captain's name.

Presently Earl Sigvaldi's viking ships went by, holding close inshore; and at length the earl's own dragon, with a red banner at her prow, by which token King Sweyn understood that all was going as had been intended. Following close behind came the Crane.

"Now let us hasten on board!" cried King Sweyn, "for here comes the Serpent at last!"

But Earl Erik did not move.

"Many other great and splendid ships has Olaf Triggvison besides the Long Serpent," said he, "yet only nine have sailed past. Let us still wait."

Then one of Sweyn's Danish warriors who stood near gave a hoarse mocking laugh and said:

"We had heard that Earl Erik was a brave and adventurous man. But now it is clear that he has but the heart of a chicken, for he is too cowardly to fight against Olaf Triggvison and dares not avenge his own father's death. Great shame is this, to be told of through all lands, that we, with all our great host, stand here, while Norway's king sails out to sea past our very eyes."

Erik became very angry at hearing these taunting words.

"Go, then, to your ships," said he; "but for all your doubts of my courage you shall see before the sun goes down into the sea tonight that both Danes and Swedes will be less at their ease than I and my men!"

As they moved to go, yet another of King Olaf's ships hove in sight.

"Here now sails the Long Serpent!" cried the son of Queen Sigrid. "Little wonder is it that Olaf Triggvison is so widely renowned when he has such a splendid ship as this!"

All turned to watch the great vessel as she floated by. Her gilded dragon glistened in the sunlight; her striped red and blue sail swelled in the breeze; crowds of stalwart men were on her decks. No larger or more magnificent battleship had ever before been seen on these waters.

King Sweyn Fork Beard cried aloud in his exultation:

"Loftily shall the Serpent carry me tonight when I steer her north into Denmark!"

Then Earl Erik added with a sneer:

"Even if Olaf the Glorious had no larger ship than the Short Serpent, which we now see, methinks Sweyn with all his army of Danes could never win it from him without aid."

King Sweyn was about to give an angry retort when Earl Erik pointed towards the headland from behind which all these ships had in their turn appeared. And now did Sweyn at once understand how greatly he had been mistaken in what he had expected of King Olaf's famous dragonship, and how much his fancy had fallen short of the reality. He stood in dumb amazement as the towering prow of the Long Serpent glided into view, shooting long beams of golden light across the sea. First came the glistening dragon head, and then a long stretch of gaily painted hull; next, the tall mast with its swelling white sail, and, in the midst of the snowy expanse, the blood red cross. The dense row of polished shields along the bulwarks flashed in the sunlight. Sweyn marvelled at the ship's great length, for the stern did not appear in sight until long after he had seen the prow. His companion chieftains murmured their astonished admiration; while fear and terror crept into the breasts of many of the Swedes and Danes, who felt that for some of them at least the great ship carried death.

"This glorious vessel is worthy and fitting for such a mighty king as Olaf the Glorious," declared Earl Erik, "for it may in truth be said of him that he is distinguished above all other kings as the Long Serpent is above all other ships."

All unconscious of the guiles of Sigvaldi, King Olaf steered his ship in the earl's wake. At the first he took the lead of his ten other dragons, Sigvaldi sailing in advance. But as they neared the island a thing happened which caused him to fall back to the rear. Young Einar Eindridson, ever full of sport and play, had perched himself astride of the yardarm, and there, with his longbow and arrows shot at the seagulls as they flew by. Presently he espied a large bird flying over from the westward. Its wings and body were perfectly black. Slowly it came nearer and nearer, as though it would cross the Serpent's bows. Einar worked his way along to the end of the yard, and, steadying himself, fixed an arrow to the string. As the bird came within easy bow shot the lad took aim. But as he drew the string he saw the great dusky bird open its stout beak. He heard a hoarse croak, and knew it to be the croak of a raven. Now the croaking of a raven was held in those times to be a sound of very ill omen; it was also considered that the man who killed one of these birds was certainly doomed to meet with speedy misfortune. Einar slackened his bow, and the arrow slipped from his fingers. In trying to catch it, he dropped his famous bow, Thamb, and it fell into the sea. Now Einar treasured that bow beyond all his worldly possessions. Without an instant's hesitation he stood up upon the yard and leapt into the sea.

King Olaf, standing at the tiller, had seen all this, and he quickly put over the helm and, bringing the Serpent round head to wind, lay to while a boat was launched. Einar and his bow were rescued. But meanwhile the Long Serpent was overtaken by all her companion ships; and so it was that she was the last to enter the straits.

Earl Sigvaldi still held on in advance. But it was noticed that when he came abreast of the cape whereon the three chiefs had stood, he lowered his sails and steered his ships nearer inshore. The Norsemen suspecting nothing, followed his example, and very soon King Olaf's fleet gathered closer together. But when Thorkel the Wheedler came up with the Crane he shouted aloud to Sigvaldi, asking him why he did not sail. The earl replied that he intended to lie to until King Olaf should rejoin him. So Thorkel struck sail also. But the ships had still some way on them and the current was with them. They drifted on until they came to a curve in the channel which opened out into the bay where the host of King Sweyn and his allies waited in ambush.

Now by this time the Short Serpent had come alongside of Sigvaldi, and her captain, espying some of the enemy's fleet, questioned the earl concerning them.

"Strangers they all are to me," answered Sigvaldi with an evil look in his eyes. "But whoever they be, it seems that they are not altogether friendly to us. I see their red war shields from where I stand, and it looks very much as though a battle awaited us."

Then Thorkel Nefja had his oars brought out, and he steered the Short Serpent round against the stream and went back with all speed to meet the king.

"What do I see?" cried King Olaf. "Why have the ships struck sail? And what is the meaning of your coming back?"

"It is because a great host of war galleys are lying in the farther bay," answered Thorkel. "It is the host of King Sweyn of Denmark, for I saw the banner on one of the longships, and it was like unto the banners that Sweyn Fork Beard carried at the time when we were with him in England. Turn back, I implore you, O king! Turn back by the way we have come! For our fleet numbers but eleven keels, while our foes have fully two score of dragons!"

The king stood on the lypting of the Long Serpent as he heard these tidings. He turned to his mariners.

"Down with the sails! Out with the oars!" he cried with a loud voice that could be clearly heard across the waters; and the men quickly obeyed.

Still holding the tiller, Olaf kept his ship's prow ahead as before.

"Never yet have I fled from a battle," he called out to Thorkel Nefja. "And although Sweyn Fork Beard had thrice two score of warships, I would rather fight him than turn tail like a coward hound. God rules over the lives of all Christian men, and why should we fear to encounter King Sweyn and all his heathens? Let our cry be 'Onward, Christ men; onward, Cross men!'"

Now when the Long Serpent, sweeping quickly along with all oars at work, came nigh to her companions, Olaf saw that Earl Sigvaldi and his vikings had passed on beyond the cape, while his own captains had turned their prows about and were rowing back against the current.

"Why do ye take to flight?" roared Olaf in an angry voice of thunder. "Never will I fly from any earthly enemy. He is no worthy king who shuns his foes because of fear. Reverse your ships and follow the Long Serpent, be it to glory or to death!"

And now, taking the lead, he arrayed his ships in order, with the Short Serpent and the Crane together in his immediate wake, and his eight other longships following close behind. Proudly, and with all his banners flying, he sailed into the bay. Before him, at about a mile's distance, he saw the seventy warships of his foes. Their vast number and their compact battle array might well have struck fear into the heart of one who had but eleven galleys at his back. But not for an instant did Olaf Triggvison shrink from the unequal encounter. He brought his vessels to a halt, but it was not from hesitation. It was only that, taken wholly unawares, he had need to prepare for the coming battle. Taking down his great war horn from the mast, he blew a resounding blast. His warriors understood the call, and they hastily donned their armour, brought their arrows and spears on deck and stood at their stations with a readiness which showed how well their royal master had trained them.

Olaf himself went below into his cabin. He knelt for a time before the crucifix in silent prayer, and then, with his stout heart well prepared for all that might happen to him, put on his finest armour and returned to the deck.

As he stood beside his fluttering banner—a snow white banner with its blood red cross—he could easily be distinguished from all who were near him. His tall majestic figure was crowned with a crested helmet of pure gold. Over his well wrought coat of mail he wore a short tunic of scarlet silk. His shield, with its jewelled image of the crucified Christ shone in the sunlight and could be distinctly seen by his awaiting foes.

Some of his companions warned him of the danger of thus exposing himself and making himself a mark for his enemies. But he answered proudly that he wished all men, both friends and foes, to see that he shunned no danger.

"The more I am seen," he said, "and the less fear I show in the battle, the more shall I inspire my brave friends with confidence and my foes with fear and terror."

As he spoke, he saw that King Sweyn with his ships was rowing slowly out into the mid bay to meet him, leaving two detachments in his rear. There was no sign of haste on board of any one of the ships, for all men knew that there was a long day's fight before them, and that it was well to make all their preparations with slow caution.

For some time after he had come on deck King Olaf was more intent upon observing his enemies than in arraying his own small armament. He had seen from the first that it would be his place to assume the defensive, and he had given the order for his ships to be drawn up in line, broadside to broadside.

This order was being carried out as he now stood watching the advance of his enemy's battle.

"Who is the captain of the host now drawing up against us?" he asked of Bersi the Strong, one of his chieftains who stood near him. "By the standard on his prow methinks I should know him well."

"King Sweyn of the Forkedbeard it is, with his forces from Denmark," was Bersi's answer.

"That is even as I thought," returned Olaf. "But we are not afraid of those cowards, for no more courage is there in Danes than in wood goats. Never yet were Danes victorious over Norsemen, and they will not vanquish us today. But what chief flies the standards to the right?"

"Those, lord, are the standards of Olaf the Swede King."

"The son of Queen Sigrid the Haughty stands in need of a little practice in warfare," said Olaf. "But for the harm that he can do us, he might well have stayed at home. And his heathen Sweden, I think, would find it more agreeable to sit at the fireside and lick their sacrificial bowls than to board the Long Serpent under the rain of our weapons. We need not fear the horse eating Swedes. But who owns those fine ships to the left of the Danes? A gallant man he must be, for his men are far better arrayed than the rest and much bolder of aspect in all ways."

"Earl Erik Hakonson is the owner of them," answered Bersi.

"He is the noblest champion who will fight against us today," said Olaf, "and from him and the high born men that I see upon his decks we may expect a hard battle. Earl Erik has just cause for attacking us, and we must not forget that he and his crews are Norsemen like ourselves. Now let us make ready!"

Then the king turned to his own ships. The eleven dragons had been ranged side by side as he had ordered, with the Long Serpent in the middle and the Crane and the Short Serpent at either side of her. To right and to left of each of these four ships were placed. This was a very small force, compared with the overwhelming numbers of the enemy, and as Olaf glanced along his line he sorely missed the fifty of his fleet that had gone out to seaward. Nevertheless he did not allow his men to see that he was in any way anxious.

The seamen were now lashing the ships together stem by stem. Olaf saw that they were tying the beak of the Long Serpent on a level with the other prows, so that her poop stood out far behind. He called out loudly to Ketil the Tall:

"Bring forward the large ship. Let her prow and not her stern stand out. I will not lie behind my men when the battle begins!"

Then Wolf the Red, his standard bearer, whose station was forward in the bow, mumbled a complaint:

"If the Serpent shall lie as far forward as she is longer than your other ships, then there will be windy weather today in her bows."

The King answered: "I had the Serpent built longer than other ships, so that she might be put forward more boldly in battle, and be well known in fighting as in sailing. But when I chose her crew, I did not know that I was appointing a stem defender who was both red and adread."

This playful taunt ruffled Red Wolf, who replied insolently: "There need be nothing said, lord, if you will guard the poop as well as I shall guard the forecastle."

The king had a bow in his hand. He laid an arrow on the string and turned it on Wolf, who cried:

"Shoot another way, king, and not at me but at your foes, for what I win in the fight I win for Norway, and maybe you will find that you have not over many men before the evening comes."

The king lowered the arrow and did not shoot. When the men had finished lashing the ships together he again took his war horn and blew a loud blast upon it that echoed and re-echoed along the rocky shores of the island. As he turned to put the horn aside he saw that Queen Thyra, alarmed by the growing tumult, had come up on deck.

She looked out upon the bay, and seeing the enormous hostile fleet that was closing in upon Olaf's diminished force she burst into tears.

Olaf went to her side and laid his hand on her shoulder.

"You must not weep," he said gently. "Come, dry your tears; for now you have gotten what was due to you in Wendland; and today I mean to demand of your brother Sweyn the tooth gift which you have so often asked me for."



CHAPTER XXI: THE BATTLE IN SVOLD SOUND.

King Olaf stood on the poop deck of the Long Serpent, a conspicuous figure among his fighting men, with his gold wrought helm towering high above the others' heads. From this position he could survey the movements of his foes, command the actions of his own shipmen, and direct the defence. From this place also he could fire his arrows and fling his spears over the heads of his Norsemen. His quivers were filled with picked arrows, and he had near him many racks of javelins. The larger number of his chosen chiefs—as Kolbiorn Stallare, Thorfinn the Dashing, Ketil the Tall, and Thorstein Oxfoot—had their stations forward on the forecastle deck or in the "close quarters" nearer the prow. These stood ready with their spears and swords to resist boarders, and they were protected by the shield men, who were ranged before them at the bulwarks with their shields locked together. At various points of vantage groups of archers had been placed, the best marksmen being stationed before the mast, where no rigging or cordage would mar their aim. At this part stood Einar Eindridson throughout the whole battle. Loud and shrill sounded the war horns from both sides. Nearer and nearer King Sweyn of Denmark drew onward to the attack. The wind had fallen, the sea was calm; the sun hung hot and glaring in a cloudless sky, flashing on burnished helmet and gilded dragon head. King Olaf's prows were pointed towards the north, so that the enemy as they came down upon him had the strong midday sunlight in their eyes. King Sweyn Fork Beard opened his attack with a shower of arrows directed at the stem defenders of the Long Serpent. King Olaf's archers at once replied in like manner. This exchange of arrows was continued without ceasing while Sweyn's ships came onward at their fullest speed. Then, as the Danes drew yet closer under the Norsemen's prows, arrows gave place to javelins and spears, which were hurled with unerring aim from side to side.

Sweyn's men turned their stems towards both bows of the Long Serpent, as she stood much further forward than any others of Olaf's ships. Many who could not approach this coveted position turned their attention to the Short Serpent and the Crane. And now the battle raged fiercely. Yet the Norsemen stood firm as a wall of rock, while the Danes, assailed by a heavy rain of spears and arrows from the Serpent's decks, began to lose heart ere ever a man of them was able to make his way through the close bulwark of shields. Olaf's prows were so lofty that they could not be scaled, while the defenders, from their higher stand, had full command over their foes. Thrand Squint Eye and Ogmund Sandy were the first of the Norsemen to fall. These two leapt down upon the deck of King Sweyn's dragon, where, after a tough hand to hand fight, in which they vanquished nine of the Dane King's foremost warriors, they were slain. Kolbiorn Stallare was very angry at these two having broken the ranks, and he gave the order that none of the Norsemen were to attempt to board the enemy's ships without express command.

Sweyn's ship lay under the larboard bow of the Serpent, and Wolf the Red had thrown out grappling hooks, holding her there. She was a longship, of twenty banks of oars, and her crew were the pick of all the warmen of Denmark. Sharp and fierce was the fight at this side, and great was the carnage. While Kolbiorn and others of Olaf's stem defenders kept up an incessant battle with their javelins and swords, King Olaf and his archers shot their arrows high in air so that they fell in thick rain upon the Danish decks. Yet the Danes, and the Swedes from the rear, were not slow to retaliate. Although they found it impossible to board the Serpent, they nevertheless could assail her crowded decks with arrows and well aimed spears, and the Norsemen fell in great numbers. In the meantime Sweyn's other ships—not one of which was larger than the smallest of King Olaf's eleven dragons—made a vigorous onset upon Olaf's left and right wings. The Norsemen fought with brave determination, and as one after another of the Dane ships was cleared of men it was drawn off to the rear, and its place was occupied by yet another ship, whose warriors, fresh and eager, renewed the onset. All along Olaf's line there was not one clear space, not a yard's breadth of bulwark unoccupied by fighting men. The air was filled with flying arrows and flashing spears and waving swords. The clang of the weapons upon the metal shields, the dull thud of blows, the wild shouts of the warriors and cries of the wounded, mingled together in a loud vibrating murmur. To Earl Sigvaldi, who lay with his ships apart at the far end of the bay, it sounded like the humming of bees about a hive. Not only at the prows, but also behind at the sterns of Olaf's compact host, did the Danes attempt to board. The Norsemen, indeed, were completely surrounded by their foemen. King Olaf fought from the poop deck of the Serpent with no less vigour than did Kolbiorn and his stem defenders at the prow. He assailed each ship as it approached with showers of well directed arrows. Then, as the stem of one of the Danish longships crashed into his vessel's stern, he dropped his longbow and caught up his spears, one in either hand, and hurled them into the midst of his clamouring foes. Time after time he called to his followers, and led them with a fierce rush down upon the enemy's decks, sweeping all before him. Seven of King Sweyn's vessels did he thus clear; and at last no more came, and for a time he had rest. But a great cry from the Serpent's forecastle warned him that his stem men were having a hard struggle. So he gathered his men together and led them forward. Many were armed with battleaxes, others with spears, and all with swords. Calling to his shield bearers to make way for him, he pressed through the gap and leapt down upon the deck of Sweyn Forkbeard's dragon.

"Onward, Christ men, Cross men!" he cried as full three score of his bravest warriors followed close at his back. And he cut his way through the crowd of Danes, who, led by Sweyn himself, had been making a final rally and preparing to board the Serpent. King Sweyn was wounded in the right arm by a blow from Kolbiorn's sword. Kolbiorn was about to repeat the blow when several of the Danes, retreating aft, crowded between him and their king. Sweyn drew back, and crying aloud to his men to follow him, turned tail and led them over the bulwarks on to the deck of a ship that was alongside of him. This ship, which had not yet been secured by the Norsemen's grappling irons, he now withdrew to the farther shores of the bay. As he thus retreated from the battle he sounded his horns, calling off those of his ships that were not yet altogether vanquished. Tired, wounded, and despairing, he owned himself no match for Olaf the Glorious. He had made the attack with five and forty fully manned warships, and yet all this great force had been as nothing against the superior skill and courage of the defenders. Thus it befell, as Olaf Triggvison had guessed, that the Danes did not gain a victory over the Norsemen. While the Danes were in full retreat the Swedes hastened forward to renew the attack. The Swedish king, believing that Olaf Triggvison must certainly have suffered terrible loss at the hands of the Danes, had the fullest hope that he would take very little time in turning the defeat of King Sweyn into a victory for himself. He had already, from a distance, kept up an intermittent fire of arrows into the midst of the Norse ships, and it may be that he had thus helped to reduce King Olaf's strength. He now rowed proudly upon the left wing of the Norse fleet. Here he divided his own forces, sending one division to an attack upon Olaf's prows, and himself rowing round to the rear. Many of the disabled Dane ships barred his way, but he at last brought his own longship under the poop of the Long Serpent. This interval had given the Norsemen a brief respite in which to clear their disordered decks and refresh themselves with welcome draughts of cooling water which their chief ordered to be served round.

Vain were the Swede king's hopes. When he advanced upon the Serpent Olaf Triggvison was ready to meet him, refreshed by his brief rest, unwounded still, and with his warlike spirit burning eager within him.

"Let us not lose courage at the sight of these heathen devourers of horse flesh!" he cried as he rallied his men. "Onward, my brave Christians! It is for Christ's faith that we fight today. Christ's cross against Thor's hammer! Christian against pagan!"

Then, when the anchors and grappling hooks were fastened upon the Swede king's ship, Olaf hastened to the rail and assailed her men first with javelin and long spear, and then with sword. So high was the Serpent's poop above the other's stem that the Norsemen had to bring their weapons to bear right down below the level of their sandalled feet, and whenever the Swedish soldiers, emboldened by seeing an occasional gap in King Olaf's ranks, tried to climb on board, they were hewn down or thrown back into the sea.

At last Olaf of Sweden came forward with a strong body of swordsmen and axemen, intent upon being the first of the three hostile princes to plant his foot on the deck of the Long Serpent. Olaf Triggvison saw him approaching, and again calling his Norsemen to follow him, he leapt over the rail and landed on the enemy's deck. The son of Queen Sigrid stood still on his forecastle. His face suddenly blanched, but he gripped his sword, ready to encounter Norway's king. Here the two Olafs met and crossed swords, and a desperate duel ensued. Scarcely had they made half a dozen passes when Olaf Triggvison, with a quick movement of his wrist, struck his opponent's sword from his grasp and it fell on the deck.

"Too bold is Queen Sigrid's son," cried Olaf, "if he thinks to board the Long Serpent. Now have I got you in my power and might put an end to you and your worship of heathen idols. But never shall it be said that Olaf Triggvison struck down a foe who was unarmed. Pick up your blade, proud King of the Swedes, and let us see who is the better man, you or I."

So when Swedish Olaf stood again on guard, the two crossed swords once more.

"Now will I avenge the insult you offered my mother!" cried Olaf Sigridson, "and you who struck her on the cheek with your glove shall be struck dead with a weapon of well tempered steel instead of foxskin."

"Guard well your head," returned Triggvison, "lest I knock off your helmet. The man who taught you the use of the sword might have been better employed, for in truth he has taught you very little."

"He has taught me enough to enable me to slay such a man as you!" cried the Swede, gathering his strength for a mighty blow.

"That remains to be proved," retorted Olaf Triggvison. "Wait! you have got the wrong foot foremost!"

But without heeding, the Swede king brought down his sword with a great sweep, aiming at Olaf Triggvison's head. As with a lightning flash Olaf raised his sword to meet the blow. His opponent's blade was broken in two halves, while at the same moment he fell severely wounded upon the deck.

"Swedish sword blades are good," said Olaf Triggvison, "but the swords of the Norsemen are better."

He thought that he had made an end of the King of Sweden. But some of the Swedish soldiers who had been watching the duel rushed forward, and, raising their fallen king, carried him off on board another of his ships, while Olaf Triggvison went aft along the crowded decks, and men fell beneath his blows, as the ripe grain falls before the mower's scythe. It happened to the Swedes, as to the Danes, that notwithstanding their superior numbers they found that they were ill matched in skill and prowess with the Norsemen. Their picked champions were speedily killed or wounded, their best ships were disabled, and although they had indeed reduced Olaf Triggvison's forces by about half, yet they had not succeeded in boarding any one of his ships, much less in carrying any of them off as prizes. As King Sweyn had retreated, so did King Olaf of Sweden. His ships were called off from the combat and withdrawn out of range of the Norsemen's arrows. He had won no fame by his daring attack, but only ignominious defeat, and he was fain to escape alive, albeit very badly wounded.

Thus Olaf Triggvison had made both the Danes and the Swedes take to flight, and it had all befallen as he had said.

And now it must be told how Earl Erik Hakonson fared in that fight. True to the agreement which he and the two allied kings had come to over their dice throwing on the morning of that same fateful day, he had stood apart from the battle while Sweyn had vainly striven to make a prize of the Long Serpent; and during the midday and until the retreat of King Sweyn he had engaged no more in the conflict than to direct his arrows from afar into the thick of Olaf Triggvison's host. Now, Earl Erik was wise in warfare, and a man of keen judgment. He had fought with his father in the great battle against Sigvaldi and the vikings of Jomsburg, and from what he had seen on that day of Olaf Triggvison's prowess, and from what he had since heard of Olaf's warfare in England and other lands, he had made a very true estimate of the man who now fought in defence of the Long Serpent. He had also seen Sweyn Forkbeard in the thick of battle, and Olaf of Sweden no less. He was, therefore, well able to judge that neither the king of the Danes nor the king of the Swedes was capable of overcoming so brave and mighty a warrior as the king of the Norsemen, or of wresting the Long Serpent from the man who had built her and who knew so well how to defend his own. Pride in his own countryman may have had some share in the forming of this opinion. But Earl Erik had fought against the men of every land in Scandinavia. He had a firm belief that the men of Norway were braver and bolder, stronger in body, more skilful in the use of their weapons, and had greater powers of endurance than any of their neighbours. And it may be that in this he was right. He at least saw cause for thinking that the only men who could succeed in vanquishing King Olaf's Norsemen were the Norsemen of Earl Erik Hakonson. Earl Erik's vikings and berserks, eagerly watching the fray, had seen how the Danish ships had one after another been driven off, disabled and defeated. They had watched every movement of the tall and splendid form of the Norse king as he fought in his shining armour and his bright red tunic on the Serpent's lypting. For a time they had not been certain whether Olaf Triggvison was at the stem or on the poop of his great dragonship, for it was seen that at each of these important points there was a tall chief whose prowess and whose attire alike distinguished him from all other men; and these two champions so resembled one the other that it was not easy to tell which was Kolbiorn Stallare and which King Olaf. But Earl Erik had not a moment's doubt. He would have known Olaf Triggvison had a score of such men as Kolbiorn been at his side. Earl Erik was the eldest son of the evil Earl Hakon who had fled from Thrandheim at the time of Olaf's coming into Norway, and been slain while taking refuge at the farmstead of Rimul, and Erik had naturally hoped that on his father's death he would succeed to the throne. Olaf Triggvison had shattered all his plans of future glory; and during the five years that had already passed of King Olaf's reign he thirsted for such an opportunity as now presented itself, not only of avenging his father's death but also, it might be, of placing himself upon the throne of Norway. His only uneasiness at the present moment arose from his fear lest King Olaf should be overcome in the battle ere he had himself encountered him face to face and hand to hand.

While the King of Sweden and his forces were engaged with their attack upon Olaf's centre of battle, Earl Erik adopted a plan which, although seemingly more hopeless, was in the end more successful than any that had yet been attempted by either the Danes or the Swedes. He saw that while the Long Serpent continued to be supported on either side by five strong and well manned dragonships she was practically unassailable. Her poop and her prow were the only points of her hull that were exposed, and these towered so high above the bulwarks of all other vessels that to attempt to board her was both useless and dangerous. Herein lay the secret of Olaf's successful defence, the proof of his forethought and wisdom in building the Serpent so much larger and higher than all other vessels in his fleet. Earl Erik, indeed, had observed that every ship that had approached her, either fore or aft, had been in its turn completely cleared of men or forced to withdraw out of the conflict.

Urging his rowers to their fullest speed, Erik bore down with his ships upon the extreme of King Olaf's right wing. The heavy, iron bound bow of the Ram crashed into the broadside of Olaf's outermost longship, whose timber creaked and groaned under the impact. Vikings and berserks leapt down upon her decks, and now Norseman met Norseman in a terrible, deadly combat. The king's men were well nigh exhausted with the long day's fighting under the hot sun; their bronzed faces streamed with perspiration, their limbs moved wearily. But, however, tired and thirsty they were, they could give themselves no respite. Every man that fell or was disabled by wounds left a gap in the ranks that could not be filled. The earl's men were fresh and vigorous; they had waited for hours for their chief's orders to enter the fray, and now that those orders had been given to them they fought with hot fury, yelling their battle cries and cutting down their foemen with ponderous axe and keen edged sword.

So fierce was the onslaught that many of Olaf's men, for the first time that day, fell back in fear and clambered over the bulwarks of the next ship. Very soon the decks of the first longship were completely cleared of defenders. Then Earl Erik backed out with the Iron Ram, while the seamen on his other ships cut away the lashings that had bound Olaf's outermost vessel to her neighbour, and drew the conquered craft away into the rear, leaving the next ship exposed.

Again Earl Erik advanced with the Ram and crashed as before into the exposed broadside of the outermost ship. As before, the vikings leapt on board and renewed the onset. Five of the viking ships lay with their high prows overshadowing the broadside bulwarks, and their men swarmed and clamoured upon the decks from stem to stern, clearing all before them. Again the lashings were cut and the conquered longship was withdrawn.

Two of King Olaf's dragons had now been captured by Earl Erik. It was not very long ere yet two others followed; and then the Short Serpent was exposed, even as her four companions had been. At this juncture Earl Erik paused, for he saw that Thorkel Nefja's decks were densely crowded with men who had retreated from vessel to vessel before the onslaught of the vikings. With the caution which long years of viking work had taught him, the earl decided that the Short Serpent might best be assailed by means of arrows, fired from a safe distance, until her numbers had been sufficiently diminished to warrant his attacking her at closer quarters. So he arrayed six of his ships near hand and set his archers to work, and for a long while this method of assault was continued.

There was no lack of arrows on the Short Serpent, or indeed, on any other of King Olaf's battleships. But it was noticed by the earl's vikings that the larger number of the shafts that were shot at them by the defenders were of Danish or Swedish make, and by this it was judged that the king's men were using the arrows that had been fired upon them by their enemies.

Leaving his six ships where he had stationed them, Earl Erik now rowed the Iron Ram round to the left wing of Olaf Triggvison's array. Four of his best longships followed him. He passed astern of the king's fleet. As he rowed by under the poop of the Long Serpent he saw the majestic figure of the King of Norway, looking brilliant in gold and scarlet as he stood in flood of the afternoon sunlight, sword in hand and shield at breast. The eyes of the two bravest of Norse warriors met. Waving his sword in mock salute, Earl Erik cried aloud:

"Short will be Olaf's shrift when Erik boards the Long Serpent!"

King Olaf saw that near to where Erik stood, on the Iron Ram's forward deck, the image of the god Thor was raised, and he cried aloud in answer:

"Never shall Erik board the Serpent while Thor dwells in his stem!"

"A wise soothsayer is the king," said Earl Erik to one of his warriors as he passed onward astern of the Crane. "And I have been thinking, ever since this battle began that the great luck of Olaf may be due to that sign of the cross that we see on all his banners and shields. Often have I felt a wish to turn Christian, for it seems to me that all Christian men have something noble and honest about them—a greatness which we heathens can never achieve. Now do I swear upon the hilt of my sword"—he raised his sword hilt to his lips—"that if I win this battle and take the Long Serpent for my prize I will straightway allow myself to be christened. And, to begin with, I will have that image of Thor thrown overboard into the sea. It is ill made and cumbrous, and a figure of the cross will take less room in our stem and bring us more luck withal."

So speaking, Earl Erik stepped forward and, gripping the idol in his strong arms, flung it over the bulwark. Then he lashed two spars together, a long plank crossed with a shorter one, and raised this rough made crucifix high in the stem of the Iron Ram. By this time his vessel had passed beyond the extreme of King Olaf's left wing. He bade his rowers stop their rowing on the starboard side. They did so, and the ship turned about. Then at fullest speed he bore down upon the king's outermost dragon, crashed into her side and renewed his onslaught.

Erik dealt with the left wing as he had done with the right, and one after another of the four ships was cleared and unlashed. And now the Long Serpent lay with only two companions, the Short Serpent at her starboard and the Crane at her larboard side.

Already the Short Serpent was greatly crippled. Her commander, Thorkel Nefja, had fallen, and the larger number of her men had retreated on board of Olaf's ship, driven thither by the vikings of the six vessels that were now ranged close against her. Earl Erik now made a vigorous attack upon the Crane. He boarded her with a vast crowd of his vikings. On the mid deck he encountered her captain, Thorkel the Wheedler, and the two engaged in a sharp hand to hand fight. Regardless of his own life, Thorkel fought with savage fury. He knew how much depended upon his preventing Erik from boarding the king's ship. But he had already received a severe wound from a javelin across the fingers of his right hand, and he was full weary from the heat and long fighting. His assailant speedily overcame him, and he fell, calling upon God to save the king. As Thorkel had fought, so fought his men—desperately, furiously, but yet weakly, and at last both the Crane and the Short Serpent were cleared; their lashings were unfastened, they were withdrawn to the rear, and King Olaf's great dragonship stood alone among her foes.



CHAPTER XXII: THE DEFENCE OF THE "LONG SERPENT"

The sun was sinking lower and lower to the sea; light clouds were gathering in the western sky. But there would yet be three hours of daylight, and Earl Erik deemed that this would be ample time in which to win the Long Serpent. His own decks were thickly strewn with dead; his men were weary and athirst, and he saw need for a respite from fighting, if only for a very brief while. Also he saw on coming nearer to King Olaf's ship that it would be no easy matter to win on board of her; for the Iron Ram was but a third of her length, and her highest bulwarks reached only to a level with the oar holes in the Serpent's wales.

Erik blew his horns for a short truce. His ships were drawn off, and for a time the battle ceased. In this interval the combatants on both sides rested themselves and took food and drink. King Olaf had his decks cleared of the dead, sent the wounded below into the shelter of the holds, and arrayed his men anew. He was himself unwounded still, but his silken tunic was tattered, so that the links of his coat of mail showed through. His helmet was battered by the many spears and swords that had struck upon it, and his shield bristled with broken arrows.

When he had freshened himself and got together a new supply of arrows and spears, he mounted to the poop deck, and there, standing in the sunlight, looked around the bay. The water was strewn with wreckage, an arrow floated on every wave. Small boats had been put out to pick up the men who had fallen, or been thrust overboard from the ships. All was silent now, save for the suppressed cries of the wounded and the hoarse voices of the chiefs who were giving rapid orders to their men for the renewal of the fight.

Earl Erik's ships, among which there were also some of the Swedes and Danes, stood off from the Serpent at a distance of an easy arrow's flight. They surrounded the Serpent like a pack of eager wolves held at bay; and the most eager of all men there present was Earl Erik.

When he had prepared his men he said to a chief who stood near him — Thorkel the High, it was, brother of Earl Sigvaldi:

"Many fierce battles have I fought; but never before have I found men equally brave and so skilled in warfare as the men fighting for King Olaf today; nor have I ever seen a ship so hard to win as the Long Serpent. Now, as you are one of the wisest of men, Thorkel, give me the best advice you know as to how that great ship may be won."

"I cannot give you sure advice," Thorkel answered: "but I can say what seems to me the best; and I would say that you would do well, when we presently come alongside, to take heavy timbers or such like weighty things, and let them fall across the gunwale of the Serpent, so that the ship will lean over. You will then find it easier to board her, for she will be brought down by the weight to a level with our own bulwarks."

"The advice is good," said Erik, "and I will follow it."

As he spoke, there came the loud blast of King Olaf's war horns, calling to his foes to come on.

The Iron Ram, and other ships, to the number of fifteen, then closed in about the Serpent, and, as they advanced, the archers on their decks opened battle by shooting their arrows high in air, so that they fell into the midst of Olaf's men in an unremitting shower. Olaf's warriors, one and all, raised their shields above their heads and held them there while the rain of shafts pattered upon them with a loud drumming noise that could be heard far across the bay. Many of the men were killed and many more wounded by this terrible hail, and when at length the shooting ceased, every shield was found to be closely bristled with arrows.

Earl Erik bore down upon the Serpent with the Iron Ram, whose heavy stem struck her amidships with tremendous force, so that the men on her decks were thrown off their feet. The good ship creaked in all her beams, but no great damage was done. Erik shipped his oars and drew his vessel close alongside, and at once his men began to heave great planks and logs of wood over the Serpent's gunwale. In this work they were speedily stopped, for Olaf's spearmen and archers on the deck of the foreroom assailed them with their weapons in such wise that they dared not continue. Not to be outdone, Erik had all his long oars brought on deck, and with these he made a bridge from the top of his foreroom across to the Serpent's gunwale. In this work he lost many of his men, who were shot down by Einar Eindridson and others of the king's best marksmen. But a gangway was made, nevertheless, and the chief difficulty was surmounted.

Not yet did Earl Erik attempt to board King Olaf's dragon. He sent many of his best men on board, armed with axe and sword. Most of them crossed the gangway to certain death; but many of the king's men also fell, both from wounds and from sheer exhaustion. It was amidships that the toughest fighting went on, and it was here that the larger number of the defenders met their death. But at the foreroom and the stem of the Serpent the fray was also of the fiercest. Company after company of the vikings clambered on board, for so fully were the king's men occupied in guarding their own lives that they could give little heed to their foes, who seemed to come from every point, not only from the Iron Ram, but also from other ships that were now drawn close in against the Serpent's hull. For every viking or Dane or Swede who fell, there were ten ready to take his place. The clang of weapons was now at its highest. Spears and arrows flew in the midst, not aimed at random, but each at its own particular mark, and each carrying death on its keen point.

King Olaf, surrounded by a burg of shields, flung his spears and shot his arrows with untiring vigour; but often he paused to watch how the battle fared or to give some new order to his men. He saw that his stem defenders were quickly becoming fewer and fewer, and that those who yet remained wielded their weapons with slow and heavy strokes. In a momentary lull of the conflict he left his own post and went forward.

"Why do you raise your weapons so slowly?" he cried. "I see they do not bite!"

Bersi the Strong replied: "Our swords are both dull and broken, lord."

The king then went into the foreroom, unlocked the high seat chest and took therefrom many bright and sharp swords which he carried out in his arms and put down among his men. As he bent over the weapons and picked out a very fine one to give to Bersi the Strong, Kolbiorn saw that blood flowed out of the sleeve of his coat of mail. Others saw the blood; but no one knew where the king was wounded. Then Olaf strode back to the lypting deck and once more surveyed the battle from on high. He saw that his stem defenders, to whom he had served new weapons, had now become so furious that they leapt upon the gunwales in order to reach their foes with their swords and kill them. But many of Earl Erik's ships did not lie so close to the Serpent as to afford any hand to hand fighting. The vikings were still cautious of Olaf's champions. Still, many of the king's men thought of nothing but going constantly forward, and in their eagerness and daring they seemed to forget that they were not on dry land. They went straight overboard, and several sank down with their weapons between the ships. Olaf was very angry at their want of care, for he now deemed every man of more value than ten had been at the beginning of the battle. Nevertheless, it was easy to see that the greater loss was on the side of Earl Erik. Olaf's archers and spearmen dealt such destruction that the victory for Norway seemed to become more possible with every moment.

Now Earl Erik had found very soon that his gangway of oars was by no means satisfactory, because while his men were crossing they became so fully exposed to King Olaf's marksmen that of every three who started only one succeeded in gaining a foothold on the Serpent's deck. Many hundreds of men—vikings, Swedes, and Danes — lost their lives on this bridge. So when Erik saw that King Olaf was gaining the upper hand of him he got his berserks to take down the oars and to fling them over the Serpent's nearer gunwale, together with all logs of wood, spars, ballast stones, and other weighty things that could be found. And as the weight increased so did the Serpent lean over, until at last her bulwarks were almost on a level with those of the Iron Ram.

While the vikings were at this work a constant rain of arrows and javelins was showered upon them by King Olaf himself and his marksmen on the poop, and as Erik saw his best men falling he half repented having taken them from the fight. But when the great obstacle that had baffled him so long was overcome, he rallied his vikings, and placing himself at their head, led them on board the Serpent. And now ensued one of the sharpest combats that had been seen that day.

Olaf's voice sounded loud above the tumult, calling to his chiefs in the bow to leave their station and resist the boarders in the waist. Wolf the Red, Ogmund Sandy, and Thrand Squinteye had already fallen, and Ketil the Tall and Vikar of Tiundaland had been sent below seriously wounded. But there still remained Kolbiorn Stallare, Thorstein Oxfoot, Bersi the Strong, and Thorfinn the Dashing; and these champions gathered a score of men about them, and hastening aft to the midships deck, turned against Earl Erik and made a very hard resistance.

Bersi the Strong encountered the earl hand to hand, their swords clashed, a few blows were exchanged and dexterously guarded; then Bersi fell. Thorfinn the Dashing took his place, and while the earl and he were fighting their hardest, Thorstein Oxfoot and Kolbiorn engaged with four of the earl's vikings. Kolbiorn felled two of them and turned to a third. Then Thorstein Oxfoot's sword was struck from his hand. Thorstein doubled his fist and struck his opponent on the cheek. The viking stumbled, and Thorstein snatched up the half of a broken oar and wielding it above his head rushed among the vikings, belabouring them right and left. When King Olaf saw this he called aloud to Thorstein in a loud voice of command:

"Take your weapons, man, and defend yourself with them fairly. Weapons, and not fists or timber, are meant for men to fight with in battle!"

Thorstein then recovered his sword and fought valiantly.

There was still a most fierce fight going on between the earl's men and Olaf's champions. Kolbiorn vanquished the third viking he had engaged with, while Earl Erik was pressed back and back by Thorfinn the Dashing. Then Thorfinn caught sight of King Olaf, and at a sign from the king he lowered his blade and drew back a pace. Before Earl Erik could understand, a javelin whizzed past his left ear and buried its point in the bulwark behind him. He turned to see who had flung the javelin and saw King Olaf standing by the poop rail poising a second spear. The king flung his weapon, taking good aim; but this spear missed its mark as the first had done. King Olaf bit his lip in vexation, but as the earl turned quickly to beat a retreat on board the Ram, Olaf flung a third javelin after him. It struck the crest of Erik's helmet, but did no harm.

"Never before did I thus miss a man!" cried the king as he watched his enemy's retreat. "Great is Earl Erik's luck today. It must be God's will that he now shall rule in Norway; and that is not strange, for I see that he has changed the stem dweller on the Iron Ram. I said today that he would not gain victory over us if he had the image of Thor in his stem."

Now young Einar Eindridson had by this time taken up his position in front of the poop deck, where he found he could command a better sweep of the Iron Ram's deck, and so pick off Earl Erik's champions. Einar saw the vexation in King Olaf's face, and when he got a good chance he levelled his aim against Earl Erik. He drew his bow. The arrow flew from the string and went straight to its mark. But in the same instant the earl suddenly moved round his head, so that the arrow, meant for his bared temple, only grazed his ear.

"Shoot me that tall, beardless youth!" cried the earl, pointing at Einar. "Full fifty of our best men has he slain with his arrows this day!"

Finn Eyvindson, to whom Erik spoke, aimed an arrow at Einar just as the lad was bending his bow for a second shot at the earl. The arrow hit Einar's famous bow in the middle and broke it with a loud snap.

"What was it that broke?" asked King Olaf.

Einar answered sadly as he dropped the pieces of his bow:

"Norway from thy hands, my king!"

"So great was not the breach, I hope," King Olaf said. "Take my bow and shoot with it instead."

Einar seized the king's bow and straightway drew it right over the arrowhead, bending it almost double.

"Too weak, too weak is the king's bow," said he, casting it aside. Then, for the first time that day, he took his shield and sword and rushed into the fray. No man in all King Olaf's host had slain more men in that battle than Einar with his arrows; and now the lad made himself no less distinguished with his sword.

Earl Erik presently saw that the sun was sinking nearer and nearer to the line of the sea. The number of his men had become woefully small, and yet, as he believed, Olaf Triggvison was still unwounded, undaunted, and as full of confident hope as he had ever shown himself to be. So the earl decided to make one more effort after the victory and to risk his all in a final hand to hand encounter with the King of the Norsemen. Gathering all his available men together he prepared to make a rush upon the Long Serpent's deck.

King Olaf, seeing the earl's design, called his men aft, and ranged them in a compact body in front of the poop deck, ready to meet their foes.

At the same time Kolbiorn Stallare went up to Olaf's side, and the two, so much alike in size and dress, stood shoulder to shoulder, with their shields before them and their swords in their hands. A row of shield bearers stood in front of them. Then, with wild yells, the vikings, led by Earl Erik, rushed upon the mid deck.

As it had been throughout the whole day's battle, so was it now. King Olaf's men were greatly outnumbered; it was a conflict of skill and endurance against overwhelming odds. This final contest, while it lasted, was fierce and terrible. In a short time, however, many of King Olaf's champions fell. Brave and strong though they were, they could not withstand the furious onslaught of the ambitious and valiant Earl Erik. For a moment Olaf Triggvison was tempted to rush down and join the poor remnant of his men. He pressed forward to the stairs; but Kolbiorn Stallare drew him back.

"Wait, lord!" he cried; and then he whispered in Olaf's ear, and they both strode slowly aft to the rail. Here King Olaf turned and spoke to one of the shield bearers.

"How many of our men now remain?" he asked.

The man counted.

"Twelve are still left," he answered.

In a little while the king repeated his question.

"There are now but six," was the answer.

And then there came the sound of hurried feet upon the stairs, and Einar Eindridson rushed upon the upper deck, followed by three of his shipmates, and pursued by Earl Erik and a great crowd of clamouring vikings.

"Death to King Olaf!" cried the earl, in a voice which, in the silence that suddenly fell upon the ships, could be heard far across the bay. In that moment King Olaf and Kolbiorn leapt upon the rail, paused there amid the red light of the setting sun, and then, raising their shields above their heads, threw themselves over into the sea.

A cry that was half a groan escaped Earl Erik's lips. Flinging his sword aside, he went to the rail where King Olaf had stood. He looked down into the sea. Shadows were creeping over it. For a moment he saw the two swimmers. So much alike were they, each with his flowing gold hair, his crested helm, and his tattered red silk tunic, that it was impossible to tell which was the king. Presently one disappeared. The other was assailed by arrows and spears, but instantly he turned over and held his shield above him.

"It is the king! It is Olaf the King!" was the cry and boats were put out to rescue him. But Einar Eindridson kept his eyes upon the waves until at last, in the midst of a bright beam of sunlight far away he saw the shield of King Olaf appear, with its glistening image of the holy cross. And when the word went round that the rescued man was Kolbiorn Stallare and not the king, the lad pointed outward upon the sea and all looked in amaze upon the shining crucifix as it rose and fell with the motion of the waves.

The tale is told that the king, as he swam beneath the cover of his shield, stripped off his armour and, making his way to the land, went away on a pilgrimage to Rome. But the young grew old, and the world went on, and never again did King Olaf the Glorious come back to his realm in Norway.

THE END