The Fall of Asgard. A tale of St. Olaf's days

Preface

. To avoid misapprehension, the writer of this tale would briefly indicate which of its characters are mentioned in history and which are not; for with many of them Snorri seems to have been unacquainted. St. Olaf, Olaf Haraldsson the Thick, with Grimkel his bishop, and Biorn his marshal, and Sigvat his scald, Earl Swend and his sister, and Erling Skialgsson, these will be known to all who have dipped into old Norse history, and Einar Thambarskelmir even to those who love their Longfellow. Work of Sigvat and Bersi may be found in the Corpus Poeticum Boreale, that classical collection of the old Norse Poetry, by Messrs. Vigfusson and Powell. That the verse of the former at least will reward a search

PREFACE.

. VI in these learned and scholarly volumes may be safely promised. Of Gudrun and Thorkel and the rest no more is known than is here told ; nor has any notice of them yet been found elsewhere than in the following pages. In all cases, and conspicuously so in the de scription of the battle of Nessie, the story follows the Heimskringla rather than the picturesque Legendary Saga of St. Olaf. The character of Einar will perhaps surprise some students of the period. Indeed, the career of that remarkable man, who played so conspicuous a part in the history of Norway during the greater part of the eleventh century, a career full of the most startling changes of policy and the most extraordinary alternations of decisive action and mysterious inactivity, can only now be an enigma. It is, however, satis factory to feel that there is one difficulty upon which the present story throws considerable light, by supplying a motive for the unex plained pilgrimage to Rome which he is known to have taken soon after the death of Earl Swend.

PREFACE.

. VII The following short glossary of a few Norse words, which, in a more or less anglicised form, have been found indispensable, may prove a convenience to those readers whose tastes have not led them in the direction of Scandinavian archæology. Alfik, male family spirits. Asgakd, the abode of the gods or Æsir. Blot, a sacrificial festival. Bonder, 0. N. Bdndi, a free untitled landowner, corresponding nearly to the old English Yeoman or Franklin. His property was called an 6%al, q. v. Disa, 0. N. Vis, a female family spirit. Gaard, a farmstead. Hardsell, to hallow or bind a bargain by joining hands. Holjigang, 0. N. Huhiujaiuja, a judicial wager of battle or duel, fought on an island or Iwlm appointed at each Thing-place for that purpose. Kenning, a highly complex and indirect form of synonym peculiar to Northern poetry.

L.ENDEKJiAN, 0. N. lendr-maUr, a " landed-man " or baron holding land or emoluments under a superior lord. Niding, infamous. Odel, 0. N. S&al, family land held by indefeasible hereditary title through at least three generations, and independent of any superior. Such property was and is essentially absolute and non-feudal.

PREFACE.

. Sæter, a mountain pasture and dairy used only in summer. Thing, a moot, or popular assembly. Thusse, a kind of elf or fairy. Vette, 0. N. vœttr, the old English " wight," a general term for the spirits of the " blessed dead." Vik, a small bay or creek. Viking, a pirate, creek -man, or " Wicking," which form, as being more correct, we are told by certain martinet historians to employ in the place of the sonorous old word to which we have been so long accustomed. Finally the writer would express a modest hope that his story may do something towards removing those vague misunderstandings of Norse antiquity, which some still share with Alan Quartermain, the imaginary and versatile explorer of " King Solomon's Mines," who had possessed himself of the opinion, not indeed without cause, the ancient Dane wTas " a kind of white Zulu." CONTENTS.

Chapter I. After The Fight

Far up in the North the ravens were winging tlieir heavy flight through the gloom that had settled over Guldal. Ghostly and grim they flew, as now and again they showed their ill omened blackness against the sky or across some patch of green meadow, glimmering out of the dark masses of the pines that clothed both the steep sides of the valley. Fit company they for grim granite crags that reared their gray heads high out of the climbing forests, looking down unmoved at the scene below them. The gloom of death had settled over the beautiful Guldal ; all was dark, save for the bright glow of the sunset, which already, ere it died, was brighten- VOL. I. B [criAP. ing into a sullen dawn ; save, too, for the smoulder ing ruins of what in the morning had been a fair farmhouse, with hall, and byre, and stables, and clustering sheds, the richest in all the dale.

Save, too, further away under the hill, for two fitful fires, around which snored, in heavy drunken slumber, some score of armed men. It was a gala day for the ravens, and as they swooped hither and thither, they laughed to each other in short croaking laughs that made a man's blood run cold. And well they might, for below there was a royal feast laid out, a feast of livid up turned faces, and gaping wounds, and blood stained limbs. Over all the fields that in the morning had shone so brightly there round Voldoien were scattered heaps of dead and dying, and all about were patches where the young corn and growing grass were dark and slippery. The ravens laughed again to see the sight, and dropped down to continue their horrid meal, till a sharp cry of pain, or a shiver of death from a dying man, sent them laughing off to a quieter spot.

And all the while the wolves were howling enviously out of the gloomy trees, not daring to approach the fires and smoking ruins. Over there, where a little stream trickled down to the rushing >.] AFTER THE FIGHT. river as musically as ever, and the light-hearted trout were already leaping as happily as though nothing had befallen since yesterday, the dead lay thickest. A heap of some twenty were there in every posture of agony, and from under them a thin dark stream trickled slowly down, to redden the dancing water. None moved, not a sound was there, save the tinkle of the beck and the splash of the trout, a rare place for a feast before the glaring sun got up. So thought the oldest and most daring of the revellers, as he spread his dark wings and sailed under the smoke to a boulder hard by, whence he could survey the scene at his ease.

Nothing in all his long experience had looked so tempt ing. He was on the point of fluttering down to begin his meal when he was suddenly made to alter his mind. Out from that heap of death, which a moment ago seemed so still and inviting, with its mangled limbs, and red-lipped wounds, and glassy eyes, rose a strange whimpering cry. With hurried ungainly flight the old raven was up in a tree close by in a moment. Well might he be startled aud put his head on one side, as he looked down, to think the better. Below him was the strangest sight that ever met b [chap. his wicked old eyes. Many and many such a heap had he seen before, for wild times there had been since he began life in the blood stained reign of Eric Blodoxe, but never had he even heard of such a thing as this. Out of the gloom that shrouded the dead waved two little white arms and two little bunches of tightly closed fingers.

A wavering cry, louder than the last, again caused the bird to change his post to another branch, and then there was no mis taking what it was. Athwart a broad upturned chest, clad in glittering armour, was a baby scarce a year old. There he lay, that budding life on the pile of death, swathed in rich stuffs which were covered with many-coloured em broidery and stained with deep red stains. His big blue eyes gazed up vacantly into the brighten ing sky, and his little mouth was open for the breakfast that had never failed to come before How could he tell why it was not there to-day ? So he crammed a bunch of fingers between his tiny red gums, and shutting his eyes so tightly that his face was nothing but a tangle of wrinkles, screamed with all his might, angrily and imperiously. So fierce and defiant was the cry of the child that the raven dared not '•] AFTER THE FIGHT. 5 approach.

He was ill-pleased enough to be baulked of a feast like this ; yet all he could do was to sit and glare at the child, wondering how he could end the noise that so disturbed his tempting banquet.

Chapter II. Gudrun

Well might the raven be put out, for such feasts were not so common now as they used to be. For Olaf Tryggvason was king, and ever since the Allthing in the Throndhjem country had elected him to rule over all the kingdom of Harald Haarfagre, his great-grandsire, Norway had enjoyed a season of unwonted peace. Vet was Olaf about a mighty work that Hakon even had not dared to carry out. For this mighty son of Tryggva had declared that all Norway must be Christian or die. And so in fjord after fjord and dale after dale, his heroic figure appeared. Thing after Thing, assembled for resistance to the man who impiously was breaking the old laws and changing the old faith, at the last moment gave in and accepted CHAP. II.] GUDRUN. baptism. A hero he was, the like of which was never seen in Norway before or since.

When he stood up to speak in those wild assemblies of warrior peasants, rising to the full height of his majestic stature, his surpassingly handsome face gleaming like a god's from the golden mass of his hair, he seemed to his audience, as they remembered his huge strength, his unheard-of skill in arms, and the romantic career of his youth, the very type of all that a Norseman should be. There was hardly found one in the whole length and breadth of that stubborn lawless land, that dared to stand up against the overwhelming personality of the new king. Gradually the new god's faith was spreading over the whole country. Viken, Hordaland, Rogaland, Romsdal, Throndhjem, Guldal, one and all were baptized at the bidding of the irresistible evangelist, who preached his gospel with a ruthless army and a well-found fleet at his back.

Hardly a blow had been struck, and save at the very first, scarcely a drop of blood had been shed, and the ravens and wolves were growing lean. Yet a few there were like Iron Skjægge and Raud the strong, more devoted to their old gods than the rest, and little understanding perhaps [chap. in their remote possessions Olaf's resistless powers, who met him fair and fiercely, as a bonder should, the man who would force his will upon him. Such a one was Thorer of Voldoien in the Guldal. Disgusted at the surrender of the Gulthiug, and utterly refusing baptism, with all his foUowing he had retired surlily to his far off home and his newly wedded wife, whose earnest religious nature and beautiful pleading eyes had easily won from him, ere he started for the Thing, a promise that whatever befell he at least should never be sullied with the cross.

And there he sat all winter, surrounded by his cattle, and servants, and trusty house-carls, more convinced than ever that no arm, not even the splendid Olaf's, was strong or long enough to reach him there. Happy indeed was Thorer in the love of his fair young wife and his baby son, and the consciousness of having stood by the old gods and laws, whom all were deserting. Reward enough it was for him, whatever might befall, to see how Gudrun's gentle devout nature made more of a hero than ever of her husband, who would not turn his back on the Æsir. So things went on till a few weeks before this ill-omened night, when the ravens were laughing over their new-spread feast, and the II.] GUDRUN. fair-haired baby found so grim a bed. Then one day in the early summer, in the midst of that happy peaceful life at Voldoien, appeared a breathless messenger with tidings that Olaf had come to see how Christianity was kept in fair Guldal, and to offer death or baptism to such as were still heathen.

Thorer had not hesitated a moment. The war-arrow was split and sent round, by men that spared not breath or foot, to all his kith and kin. Ere long he was at the head of a devoted little levy, on his way to meet the advancing forces of Olaf. Every man of his kinsmen and dependents, and all the Thingmen who were of his priesthood, and many a small bonder beside, who looked up to him as a natural leader by reason of his wealth and wisdom, were at his back, and Gunther, his little son Thorkel's foster-father, and a few old men and boys, were all tbat were left behind to guard Voldoien and the treasures it contained. Fierce and stubborn was the struggle when they met. All day long the battle raged, and Thorer fought fiercely till the going down of the sun. But Olaf, fighting always, as was his wont, where blows were thickest, hurling spears with both hands at once, and dealing death at every stroke, was irresistible.

Hour by hour Thorer's [CHAr. men grew fewer and fainter, till at last their leader fell, covered with wounds, upon a blood stained heap of friends and foes, a spear from Olaf's mighty arm quivering in his breast. That was the end. With his dying breath he bade them bear to Gudrun " Thirsty," his great double axe, that his boy might grow up to avenge with it his father's death. Then at his bidding all that was left of the devoted band that had followed him so confidently from Voldoien, fled back to bear the mournful tidings, and, if it might be, carry Thorkel beyond the wrath of Olaf. Loud was the lamentation next day in Vol doien when by twos and threes came riding up the dale all that had survived that fatal fight. A sorry remnant they of the dauntless band that but a few days ago had set out so gaily to strike a merry blow for the old Æsir.

Many was the rough jest then on Olaf and his White Christ, and reckless the laughter after each. A sorry remnant, surely, with blood-stained cloaks, and battered armour, and bandaged limbs, dusty, weary, and wounded. Slowly they came — for none would be first to bear the news, and the little horses, hardy as they were, were sorely jaded with that II.] GUDRUN. 11 long night ride — with heads downcast in shame and sorrow, and silently dismounted at the door of Fire-hall. Fiercely glared the many-coloured monsters now upon the posts and lintels of the entrance, the same that had seemed to grin with such grim joy when last they saw them. But worst of all it was to meet the stern looks of Gunther and the women crowding round. Not a look of welcome had they for the kinsmen who had come back beaten and without their chief.

Sorrow and scorn was all that was found by those who dared to look. A few muttered words and the worst was soon known. Cry after cry went up as each learned how a brother or a husband died, till all the air was rent with wailing. Gudrun alone was silent. Though none had spoken to her, she knew her loss one of the first. They had simply laid at her feet the great double axe of her lord, that never could have left his hand if he were alive. She stood apart, erect and still. A passionate look was upon her face. Her hands were tightly clenched at her side in a suddenly arrested gesture of grief and anger. No more than that did she do for a while, [CHAP. THE FALL OF ASGARD. for at first she could not believe. How could it be true ? How could he have fallen, her lord in whom she saw the embodiment of all the northern virtues?

He who had gone forth in all his might to do battle for the gods and laws of his fathers. How could he have been stricken by Olaf and his new Christ ? It could not be. Yet there lay his axe at her feet. How well she knew it ! Two fierce dragons were outlined on its haft, with tails that twisted spirally up to the shining steel ; and runes there were, inlaid upon the head with gold, that none could read. A very ancient weapon it was, that had belonged to Thorer's grandfather, Thorbiorn the Old, who had taken it in fair fight from a viking long ago. A man so steeped in crime and cruelty was he, as to be an outcast unfit to pollute the earth even in those wild times. Strange stories had grown up about it. It was said the dying viking had told Thorbiorn how he had stolen it from the grave of a black king, south in Sarkland.

Terribly the dead had striven with him for it, and when he saw he could not prevail against the viking, he had laid a fearful doom upon it — none knew what. All that was known in Voldoien was, that when ever it was going to slay a man it would laugh. II.] GUDRUN. Some men declared they had heard it in the still night before some slaying was done; but most thought that such things only happened in the old days. For a long time Gudrun could only look at this axe and think of its strange story, following the dragon outlines up and down the haft, and wondering what the runes might mean. All power of thinking seemed deadened in her by the first shock of the terrible news, but suddenly again the picture of her slaughtered lord took possession of her, and she burst out with a wild rush of words, cursing the gods, and the Christ, and those who had dared obey their lord's behest to leave him.

But her passion was soon past. A stifled groan from within of some poor wretch whose wound was being dressed recalled her to herself. Her wrath gave place to pity. With an effort she turned and entered the hall, where by this time those who had been wounded, and scarcely one had returned unhurt, were being tended by loving hands. There was nothing but sympathy now. The sight of those bleeding, war-weary forms, soon filled those tender women's hearts so full that there was left no room for scorn or re proach. [chap. THE FALL OF ASGARD. Gudrun was soon moving swiftly from one to another, to see that all was well done. None could rival her in leech-craft, and speedily each wound was dressed and her work was done. What next ? To go to her chamber and weep, that was all. Once alone, it all burst upon her with redoubled force.

Her lord, her hero, gone. She knew women did lose husbands, she had heard of so many in the wild days of Hakon and Eric's sons. But hers — hers — that was so different. It could not be true, and yet she had seen his axe and he did not come. Yes, it was true, and she was alone ; her husband, her darling, her king of men, was dead. The sense of her loneliness settled down more and more distinctly upon her, till at last it was insupportable. It could not be. Some thing must happen to change it. But what could ? Nothing — nothing. The thought crushed her at last, and she fell upon her bed in a paroxysm of weeping, from which none could rouse her. For hours she lay thus, till they thought she would die or lose her reason. " Take in little Thorkel," said one at last, "take in to her all she has left."

So they carried in the little one and laid him quietly in her arms. She clasped him IL] GUDRUN. gently to her, and little by little her sobs abated, as she felt the soft warm flesh against her bosom. For a time, how long she knew not, she lay calmly with a dead heavy aching at her heart. A cry from the child aroused her. He knew nothing of all that was passing. It was just as another day to him, and he was hungry. That was all he knew. So he shouted again lustily from his tough tiny lungs. It was strange, his little sorrow beside hers. She felt she could laugh long and loud to think of it, and this made her afraid. To control herself, she rose and hurried back to the fire hall to seek some food for him. In a moment she saw dimly that something had happened. Not a man was there. The women were sitting in anxious groups, talking low to each other.

Still clasping her child, she seated herself before the hearth, in the high seat that was Thorer's. At her call they brought the baby food. Some one she knew had pressed her to drink, and brought her a cool sweet draught. Then it all was clearer and calmer, and she listened while they told her how the others had gone and left them alone. The weary wounded men had hardly time to snatch a few hours' sleep when Gunther entered THE FALL OF ASGARD. [chap. the hall and called them forth. He knew too well the reputation that Olaf had won. He knew he had the conqueror's secret of swift sharp blows. He knew he was not one to let the iron go cold till it was fashioned to his will. So the wary giant had gone down to watch at the Voldgate, where the rocks narrowed towards each other, and made a natural portal to the valley.

It was only a matter of a few hours he knew, and then the long line of horse men would rise above the brow as far as he could see. Sure enough ere long they came, and soon the distance was all glittering with their burnished arms. He waited awhile, and saw them halt for a rest before they began the attack. For well they guessed how hard a nut Voldoien would be to crack. Once assured that some hours must yet elapse before the final struggle came, he returned to summon all that was left of Voldoien's strength to one last effort. Mercy there would be none. All knew that well enough. Mercy from Olaf was only to be obtained on one condition — baptism. One and all would rather die than that, for they were at feud with the White Christ, before whom their chief had fallen. Rather die amidst the h.] GUDRUN. 17 wild sport of ringing blows and the clang and clamour of battle, as their fathers had before them, than deny their grand old gods and live ingloriously under the peace of Olaf, servants of Olaf's god.

So one and all sprang up at Gunther's summons and armed themselves, the women helping, sadly, but with unfaltering hands. Each snatched a hasty meal and drank a foaming cup, then joined the rest outside, to wait for the message from Voldgate that Olaf's halt was done. In little groups they sat talking low of the dead chief that must be avenged, or discussing, as they grasped their favourite weapons, the blow or parry each loved the best. There was no grim joking now, as when they last had armed, only eager determined looks of fearless men, who longed to meet again the hated adversary who had beaten them. Their patience was not much tried. A lad came running with the welcome tidings, and all leaped to their feet. A last look to their arms, a few simple directions from Gunther, and all was ready.

All but one thing. There was a pause. Every eye turned on Gunther, as with a deep drawn sigh that shook the giant's glittering VOL. i. ° [chap. THE FALL OF ASGARD, breast, he turned and slowly entered the hall. Would she permit it quietly in the first blush of her new-found grief ? Would it not break her aching heart ? There was not one amongst all those hard reckless men who did not feel his heart soften then. There was not one who would not rather have died a hundred times than have been in Gunther's place that day. It was hard, how hard their rude natures knew not. But that day of all was not the one on which to depart from the sacred tra ditions of their fathers, that day of all they must not fight leaderless. Gudrun was still sitting by the hearth in Thorer's great chair as Gunther entered.

Ever since she had left her room she had sat there with Thorkel on her lap. She was leaning back, gazing at his stalwart little form with her beautiful eyes half closed. And as she sat and gazed, peace began to steal into her heart after her storm of sorrow. Half unconsciously she traced her dead lord's features — his low square forehead, his clear blue eyes, his strong well marked jaw — in the little lump of life before her, and as she did so the past seemed to fade away. She was filled with the hope, and vigour, II.] GUDRUN 19 and brightness of that budding life. She felt his little heels drumming on her thigh, as in his exuberant baby strength he kicked for very joy of living, and seemed to see him grow up straight and tall, like her dead hero. Her loneliness was gone now, and as the little fellow stretched up his broad red palms, and tightly clutched her hand with his long buds of fingers, and crowed at his cleverness the while, a smile played round her beautiful lips again, and she was almost happy.

Gunther's heavy tread upon the floor aroused her from her dream. She saw bim standing erect, gigantic, glittering in his well-kept armour. Wh}' was be there, so silent and so stern ? Why did he look at her so sadly, without a word ? And why had all the women gathered round her, gazing, like Gunther, so still and sadly ? Gradually the scene became more real to her. Yes, it was Gunther come to say farewell before he went forth to avenge her slaughtered husband. Yet that could not be. Where was the " limb-lopper " — his axe ? Why was that laid aside to-day of all days ? In his right hand he bore a sword, in his left a lanre shield. She had never seen him armed so before. And what was the soft cloth that c he had wrapped round his shield arm ? It was Thorkel's little cloak ; the little red cloak Thorer had bought from the chapmen so short a while ago.

Then she saw it all. With a sharp cry of pain she sat up in her chair and clasped her boy tightly to her breast. Wildly, with fearful pleading eyes, she looked round for an ally. She met nothing but the same sad eyes, the same stern resolute looks. For a moment she thought of resistance, but only for a moment. The memory of the glorious traditions of her husband's and her father's races, the recollection of the brave hearts without, waiting only for the chief to lead them to vengeance, came to her assistance, and she was a true daughter of the North again. Without a word, she rose and advanced, with set lips and firm tread, to the spot where Gunther stood. Once, and only once, passion ately kissing the soft face of her only child, she placed him gently on the great hard shield. Then at last she found her voice : " Go, Thorkel," she said, " to fight for Voldoien and the Æsir.

Begin to-day your strife against Olaf and his Christ, and cease it not till they are overthrown. The spirit of the mightiest of your fathers be with you." That was all. Not a word of II.] 21 GUDRUN, pleading or regret, not a word to show the wound which the sacrifice had cost her poor lonely heart. The foster-father bowed his bearded head low, as he received the tender burden, half in honour of his charge, half to hide the eyes he felt were brimming. Slowly he left the hall, and the door shut out from the fond widowed mother the sight of all she had left to love. As in utter loneliness now Gudrun turned to reach her seat again, her eye fell upon the strange spirals of her husband's axe. They had placed it, as of old, beside his chair. Mechanically she took it in her hand, and as she did so a shout and clang of beaten shields fell upon her ear, as the last remnant of the Voids saluted their chief.

A look, half of pride half of horror, lit up her pale face. Then, as the wild greeting died away, she sank into the great chair again in her old listless attitude, the axe upon her knees, and not a sound was heard iu that chamber of mourn ing save the half stifled sobs of her weeping women. Loudly laughed the ravens as they watched the war-weary men, with their baby chief in front, march down to Voldgate, and wait in serried rank the onslaught of the foe. Blithely had they joined the deafening war-cry, as the two parties met in deadly strife, and gleefully, with flapping wings, they had listened to the ringing blows, the grunting breath, the stifled cries of pain, as, step by step, the devoted defenders were beaten back till the hall enclosed them all again, and round it surged the fierce mass of Olaf's men, whose work was not yet done.