With a front not less determined does he face his country's foes.The king of Sweden,and Svend "of the forked beard,"king of Denmark,have combined against him.With them is joined the Norse jarl,Eric,the son of Hacon.Olaf Tryggvesson is sailing homewards with a fleet of seventy ships,--himself commanding the famous "Long Serpent,"the largest ship built in Norway.His enemies are lying in wait for him behind the islands.
Nothing can be more dramatic than the deion of the sailing of this gallant fleet--(piloted by the treacherous Earl Sigwald)--within sight of the ambushed Danes and Swedes,who watch from their hiding-place the beautiful procession of hostile vessels,mistaking each in turn for the "Long Serpent,"and as often undeceived by a new and yet more stately apparition.She appears at length,her dragon prow glittering in the sunshine,all canvas spread,her sides bristling with armed men;"and when they saw her,none spoke,all knew it to be indeed the 'Serpent,'--and they went to their ships to arm for the fight."As soon as Olaf and his forces had been enticed into the narrow passage,the united fleets of the three allies pour out of the Sound;his people beg Olaf to hold on his way and not risk battle with such a superior force;but the King replied,high on the quarter-deck where he stood,"Strike the sails!I never fled from battle:let God dispose of my life,but flight I will never take!"He then orders the warhorns to sound,for all his ships to close up to each other.
"Then,"says Ulf the Red,captain of the forecastle,"if the 'Long Serpent'is to lie so much a-head of the other vessels,we shall have hot work of it here on the forecastle."The King replies,"I did not think I had a forecastle man afraid,as well as red."[Footnote:There is a play on these two words in the Icelandic,"Raudau oc Ragan."]
Says Ulf,"Defend thou the quarter-deck,as _I_shall the forecastle."The King had a bow in his hands;he laid an arrow on the string,and made as if he aimed at Ulf.
Ulf said,"Shoot another way,King,where it is more needful,--my work is thy gain."Then the King asks,"Who is the chief of the force right opposite to us?"He is answered,"Svend of Denmark,with his army."Olaf replies,"We are not afraid of these soft Danes!
Who are the troops on the right?"
They answer,"Olaf of Sweden,and his forces.""Better it were,"replies the King,"for these Swedes to be sitting at home,killing their sacrifices,than venturing under the weapons of the 'Long Serpent.'But who owns the large ships on the larboard side of the Danes?""That is Jarl Eric,son of Hacon,"say they.
The King says,"He has reason for meeting us;we may expect hard blows from these men;they are Norsemen like ourselves."The fierce conflict raged for many hours.It went hard with the "soft Danes,"and idolatrous Swedes,as Olaf had foreseen:after a short struggle they turn and fly.
But Jarl Eric in his large ship the "Iron Beard"is more than a match for Olafs lighter vessels.One by one their decks are deluged with blood,their brave defenders swept into the sea;one by one they are cut adrift and sent loose with the tide.And now at last the "Iron Beard"lies side by side with the "Long Serpent,"and it is indeed "hot work"both on forecastle and quarter-deck.
"Einar Tambarskelvar,one of the sharpest of bowmen,stood by the mast,and shot with his bow."His arrow hits the tiller-end,just over the Earl's head,and buries itself up to the shaft in the wood."Who shot that bolt?"says the Jarl.Another flies between his hand and side,and enters the stuffing of the chief's stool.Then said the Jarl to a man named Fin,"Shoot that tall archer by the mast!"Fin shoots;the arrow hits the middle of Einar's bow as he is in the act of drawing it,and the bow is split in two.
"What is that,"cried King Olaf,"that broke with such a noise?""NORWAY,King,from thy hands!"cried Einar.
"No!not so much as that,"says the King;"take my bow,and shoot,"--flinging the bow to him.
Einar took the bow,and drew it over the head of the arrow."Too weak,too weak,"said he,"for the bow of a mighty King!"and throwing the bow aside,"he took sword and buckler,and fought valiantly."But Olaf's hour is come.Many slain lie around him,many that have fallen by his hand,more that have fallen at his side.The thinned ranks on board the "Iron Beard"are constantly replenished by fresh combatants from other vessels,even by the Swedes and soft Danes,now "strong,upon the stronger side,"--while Olaf,cut off from succour,stands almost alone upon the "Serpent's"deck,made slippery by his people's blood.The jarl had laid out boats to intercept all who might escape from the ship;but escape is not in the King's thoughts.He casts one look around him,glances at his sword--broken like Einar's bow--draws a deep breath,and,holding his shield above his head,springs overboard.A shout--a rush!who shall first grasp that noble prisoner?Back,slaves!the shield that has brought him scathless through a hundred fights,shall yet shelter him from dishonour.
Countless hands are stretched to snatch him back to worthless life,but the shield alone floats on the swirl of the wave;--King Olaf has sunk beneath it.
Perhaps you have already had enough of my Saga lore;but with that grey cathedral full in sight,I cannot but dedicate a few lines to another Olaf,king and warrior like the last,but to whom after times have accorded a yet higher title.
