Magnus The Good And Harold Hardruler

After the death of King Olaf the Saint, and after the Danes had for some

years ruled over Norway, Olaf's son Magnus, who had been left in Russia,

was brought to Norway and proclaimed king. The Danes had oppressed the

people, and had put over them a woman and her son, and it was this that

made the chiefs drive out the tyrants and put young Magnus, then a boy of

ten years of age, on the throne.



A curious th ng then took place, one of those strange political

somersaults which at times come in the history of nations. For as the

Danes had lately ruled over Norway, now a Norseman came to rule over

Denmark. Thus it was that this odd change came about.



The great King Canute was dead and his son Hardicanute had succeeded him

on the throne. This new king claimed Norway as his and prepared to fight

for it. But the chief men in the two countries succeeded in making peace,

with the agreement that if either of the kings should die without heirs

the other should take his throne. A few years later Hardicanute died and

Magnus was proclaimed king of Denmark. Thus, in the year 1042, the two

kingdoms became united under a Norse king, a descendant of Harold the

Fair-Haired.



Magnus, as he grew up, showed an ugly and revengeful temper. Very likely

some of those around him told the boy that he should avenge his father

upon those who had rebelled against and killed him. One of these men was

slain by his orders, others fled from the country, and many were made

poor by the loss of their cattle. This made the people very angry, and

they were ready to fight for just treatment when peace was brought about

in another way, the hot-tempered Magnus being subdued by the power of

song.



One of the poets of the land--scalds they were called--made a song called

the Lay of Candor, which he sang before the king. In it he warned him of

the evil results of a revengeful spirit and told him of the duties he

owed the people who had brought him to Norway and made him king. Magnus,

who had now nearly reached the years of manhood, listened quietly to this

song and afterwards sat long in deep thought. It had a wonderful effect

on him, for it opened his eyes to the injustice of his course, and from

that day he was a new man. All his plans of vengeance fled, he became

kind and gentle and so mild and sweet in manner that he grew to be one of

the best loved of kings. This may be seen in the name the people gave

him, which was that of Magnus the Good.



Now we must tell the rest of his story very rapidly. As the heir of

Hardicanute he claimed to be king of England as well as of Norway and

Denmark, and he might have tried to win the crown of England, then worn

by Edward the Confessor, had he not been kept busy at home. In fact, he

had to fight hard to keep the crown of Denmark, for Sweyn, a nephew of

the great Canute, claimed it and a fierce war followed. Magnus was

victorious in this war, and in one great battle, in which ten thousand

soldiers were slain, it was his skill and courage that won the field.

This display of personal bravery gave him a great name in the north.



Now we must leave the story of Magnus for a time to take up that of

another hero of the north. Those who have read the tale of Olaf the Saint

will remember his amusing talk with his three little half-brothers, and

how while the two elder had an ambition only for land and cows, Harold,

the youngest, wanted men and ships, and Olaf prophesied that the boy

would one day be a king.



When Harold grew up the spirit of the boy was shown in the man. When only

fifteen years old he fought in the battle in which King Olaf was killed,

and received a severe wound. Then he became a wanderer, going first to

Russia and then to Constantinople, where he became the captain of the

Varangians, the body-guard of Norsemen kept by the Greek emperors. A

large, bold, strong, and reckless champion, Harold gained a great name in

the south. He fought against the Saracens and won much treasure; he

fought in Sicily and captured many cities; he had adventures in love and

war and many wonderful stories are told of his exploits. Then he came

back to Russia and married Elizabeth, the daughter of King Jaroslov,

love for whom had sent him abroad to win fame and riches.






Not long after this King Magnus, as he was sailing one day along the

coast of Denmark, saw gliding along the most magnificent ship he had ever

beheld. He at once sent men aboard to learn to whom the beautiful galley

belonged, and they were met by a tall and handsome man, who said that he

had been sent by Harold Sigurdsson, the uncle of King Magnus, to learn

how the king would receive him. Magnus, who was then nineteen years old,

sent word that he would gladly welcome his uncle and hoped to find in him

a good friend. When they met the tall man proved to be Harold himself and

Magnus was highly pleased with him.



He was not so well pleased when Harold asked to be made king also, laying

claim to half the kingdom. And Harold himself was not well pleased when

one of the Norse chiefs said that if Magnus was to share the kingdom with

him, he should divide his great treasure with Magnus.



Harold replied hastily and haughtily that he had not dared death and won

wealth that he might make his nephew's men rich. The chief answered that

he and his friends had not won Norway from the Danes for the purpose of

giving half of it to a stranger, and all the other earls and warriors

agreed with him, so that Harold found that the apple which he wished to

divide was not so easily to be cut.



After that there was war and plundering and the cruel deeds that take

place when the sword is drawn, and a year or two later Harold called an

assembly of the people of one district of Norway and had himself

proclaimed king. Magnus, who did not want to fight his father's brother,

finally yielded to Harold's claim and agreed that they should both be

kings; not to divide the realm, but both to rule over the whole country

together. Thus it was that Harold won the prize which he had craved as a

young child.



Every one would say that a compact of this kind could not work well. A

gentle, kindly, generous-hearted man like King Magnus was ill matched

with a haughty, wealth-loving, tyrannical man like Harold. No doubt many

bitter words passed between them, and the peasants were so incensed by

Harold's oppression and extortion of money from them that they would have

broken into open rebellion only for the love they bore King Magnus. The

latter was often so incensed that he was tempted to put an end to the

double kingship even if he had to remove his troublesome partner by

violence.



But this was not to be. One day, while out riding, his horse took fright

and threw him, his head striking a stump. He was at first stunned, but

seemed to recover. Soon afterwards he was taken sick with a violent fever

and gradually sank, so that it became apparent that he would die. On his

death-bed he decided that Sweyn, who had fought so hard to win from him

the crown of Denmark, had a better right to that kingdom than Harold, and

men were sent to inform him of his succession to the Danish throne. But

he had barely closed his eyes in death when Harold sent other men to

intercept these messengers. He proposed to keep Denmark for himself.



The death of King Magnus without an heir left Harold the undisputed

successor to the throne, as the only living descendant in the male line

of Harold the Fair-Haired. Yet the people were far from pleased, for he

had already shown a disposition to treat them harshly and they feared

that a tyrant had succeeded to the throne. By his stern rule he gained

several uncomplimentary titles, the English calling him Harold the

Haughty, the Germans Harold the Inflexible, and the Northmen Harold the

Hardruler. Yet he was able to hold his own over his people, for he was

strong and daring, skilled in the art of war, and a man of unusual

intellect. He was also a poet and won fame by his verses. He would sit up

half the night with the blind scald Stuf Katson, to hear him recite his

stirring songs.



But if absolute ruler over Norway, Harold found Denmark slipping away

from him. Sweyn had in him the blood of the race of Canute, and was no

weakling to be swept aside at a king's will. Magnus had left him the

kingdom and he was bent on having it, if his good sword could win and

hold it. In this he was supported by the Danes, and Harold found that the

most he could do was to make descents on the Danish coast and plunder and

murder the innocent people.



After this idle kind of warfare had gone on for a number of years and

Harold found that all he had gained by it was the hatred of the Danes, he

made an agreement with Sweyn to fight it out between them. They were to

meet at the mouth of the Goetha Elv and whoever won in the battle was to

be the king of Denmark. It was a kind of duel for a crown.



But Sweyn tried to gain his end by stratagem. When Harold appeared with

his fleet at the appointed place Sweyn and his ships were not to be seen.

Harold waited a while, fuming and fretting, and then sailed south to

Jutland, where he ravaged the coast, took and burned the city of Heidaby,

carried away a number of women of high rank, and filled his ships with

plunder. Then he turned homeward, with so little fear of the Danes that

he let his ships widely scatter.



The winds were adverse, the weather was foggy, and one morning while they

lay at anchor by an island shore, the lookout saw a bright flash through

the fog. The king was hastily called, and on seeing it cried:



"What you see is the flash of the morning sun on the golden dragon-heads

of warships. The Danish fleet is upon us!"



The peril was imminent. It was hopeless to fight with the few ships at

command. Only flight remained and that was almost as hopeless. The oars

were got out in haste, but the ships, soaked and heavy from their long

cruise, were hard to move, and as the fog lifted under the sun rays, the

Danish fleet, several hundred strong, bore down swiftly upon them. The

emergency was one that needed all the wit and skill of the king to meet.



To distract the enemy Harold bade his men nail bright garments and other

showy spoil to logs and cast them overboard. As these floated through the

Danish ships many of them stopped to pick up the alluring prizes. He also

was obliged to throw overboard casks of beer and pork to lighten his

ships and these also were picked up. Yet in spite of all he could do the

Danes gained on him, and his own ship, which brought up the rear, was in

danger of capture.



As a last resort the shrewd king had rafts made of boards and barrels and

put on these the high-born women he held as captives. These rafts were

set afloat one after another, and the pursuers, on seeing these hapless

fair ones and hearing their wild appeals for rescue, were obliged to stop

and take them up. This final stratagem succeeded and Harold escaped,

leaving Sweyn, who had felt sure of capturing his enemy, furious at his

failure.



At another time, ten years and more later, Harold again fell into peril

and again escaped through his fertility in resources. Having beaten his

rival in a naval battle, he entered the long and narrow Lim fiord to

plunder the land, fancying that Sweyn was in no condition to disturb him.

He reckoned too hastily. Sweyn, learning where his foe was, gathered what

ships he could and took post at Hals, the fiord being there so narrow

that a few ships could fight with advantage against a much greater

number.



Though caught in a trap Harold was not dismayed, but gave orders to sail

to the inner end of the fiord. He knew that it ended near the North Sea,

only a narrow isthmus dividing them. Then, with great trouble and labor,

he managed to have his ships dragged across the isthmus and launched on

the sea waters, and away he sailed in triumph, leaving Sweyn awaiting him

in vain.



Finally, with the desire to bring this useless strife to an end, if

possible, a new compact was made to meet with their fleets in the Goetha

Elv and fight once more for the kingdom of Denmark. It was now 1062,

thirteen years after the former battle. As before, on reaching the place

designated, no Danish ship was visible. But it is difficult to credit

what we are told, that Harold, after a vain wait, made the same error as

before, dividing his fleet and sending the greater part of it home. With

the remainder, one hundred and eighty ships strong, he sailed along the

coast, and suddenly found himself in the presence of the Danes, with two

ships to his one.



This time Harold did not flee, but joined battle bravely with his enemy,

the contest lasting through a whole night and ending in a complete

victory over the Danes. It was a great victory, yet it brought Harold no

advantage, for Sweyn did not keep to his compact--if he had made one--to

surrender his throne, and the Danes hated Harold so thoroughly for his

cruel raids on their land that they had no idea of submitting to him. Two

years more passed on, and then Harold, finding that the conquest of

Denmark was hopeless, consented against his will to make peace. In this

way Sweyn, after many years of battling for his throne, forced his

powerful antagonist to give up the contest and promise never to disturb

him again.



Two years after this peace was made, in the year 1066, King Harold took

part in another adventure which brought his tyranny and his life to an

end. It is worth telling for another reason, for it was connected with a

great historical event, the conquest of England by William the Conqueror.

For these two reasons it is very fitting that it should be told.



King Harold of England, who was soon to fall on the fatal field of

Hastings, had a brother, Earl Tostig, who, fired by ambition, set out to

conquer that kingdom for himself. He went first to Denmark and tried to

get King Sweyn to join him in the enterprise, but the prudent Sweyn told

him that he had no desire to follow in the footsteps of his uncle Canute,

but was quite content to dwell at home and rule his own kingdom.



Then Tostig sought Norway, where he found King Harold far more ready to

listen to him. So in September of that year, Harold sailed from Norway

with the most powerful fleet and army that had ever left its shores.

Counting what was added in the Orkneys and the force under Earl Tostig,

it numbered about three hundred and fifty ships and thirty thousand men.

Landing in Northumberland, a victory was won and the city of York taken.

Then, leaving about one-third of the army to guard the ships, Harold and

Tostig encamped at Stamford Bridge, seven miles from York.



It was a warm day, there was no reason to fear danger, and the men

lounged about without their arms. In this unwary state they found

themselves suddenly face to face with a large army, led by the English

King Harold, who had marched north in furious haste. Tostig, finding that

they had been taken by surprise, advised a retreat to the ships, but

Harold was not the man to turn his back to his foe, and decided to stand

and fight, ordering the men to arm and prepare for battle. While they

were gathering in ranks for the fray, a party of English horsemen rode up

and asked if Earl Tostig was there.



"You see him before you," said Tostig.



"Your brother Harold sends you greeting and offers you peace and the rule

of Northumberland. If he cannot gain your friendship for less, he will

grant you one-third his kingdom."



"Last year he had only scorn and disdain to offer me," replied Tostig.

"But if I should accept his proposal, what has he to offer my ally, the

king of Norway?"



"He will grant him seven feet of English soil; or more if his length of

body needs it."



"If that is your best offer," said Tostig, "ride back and bid Harold to

begin the battle."



Harold of Norway had heard this brief colloquy, and as the English

horsemen rode away asked Tostig who was the speaker.



"That was my brother, Harold himself," answered Tostig.



"I learn that too late," said Harold grimly.



The battle that followed was hotly contested. It began with a charge of

the English cavalry, which was repulsed, and was followed up fiercely by

the Norsemen, who fancied the flight of the English to mean a general

rout. In this way they broke their ranks, which the king wished to

preserve until reinforcements could reach him from the ships. Forward

rushed the impatient Norsemen, King Harold throwing himself into their

midst and fighting with savage fury. His men seconded him, the English

ranks wavered and broke before the fierce onset, and victory seemed

within the grasp of the invaders, when an arrow pierced King Harold's

throat and he fell in a dying state from his horse.



His fall checked the onset, and the English king, hearing of his death,

offered his brother an armistice. Tostig refused this and led his men

back to the fray, which was resumed with all its old fury. But Tostig,

too, was slain, and the king's brother-in-law, who arrived with

reinforcements from the ships, met with the same fate. By this time the

battlefield was covered with the bodies of the dead, and the Norsemen,

dispirited by the loss of their leaders, gave way and retreated towards

the ships, hotly pursued by their victorious foes. Of their great host

only a small remnant succeeded in reaching the ships.



Thus ended the great fight at Stamford Bridge, and with it the reign and

life of Harold Hardruler, who fell a victim to his ambition and love of

strife. For years thereafter the bones of men lay scattered widely over

that field, for none stayed to bury the dead, the Norsemen fleeing in

their ships, while news of the landing of William of Normandy called

Harold hastily to the south--where he fell in the midst of the fighting

at Hastings as Harold of Norway had fallen on Stamford Field. Harold's

invasion of England was the last great exploit of the vikings of the

north, and though Ireland was invaded later by a Norseland fleet, no

foreign foe after the fatal days at Stamford and Hastings ever landed on

England's shores.