CHAPTER XIX

EYSTEIN (1103-1122), SIGURD THE CRUSADER (1103-1130), AND OLAF MAGNUSSON (1103-1115).

In accordance with established custom, the three sons of Magnus Barefoot were proclaimed kings, and the land was divided between them. There is, however, a probability that this division pertained chiefly to the royal estates, from which the kings derived their principal revenue, but did not involve a division of the country itself into separate kingdoms. Eystein was at the time of his proclamation fourteen years old, Sigurd thirteen, and Olaf three or four. They were all illegitimate, but had been acknowledged by their father. There was, at that time, a great agitation throughout Europe on account of the crusades. Kings, knights, and even children, in their anxiety to save their souls, threw reason to the winds, and, relying upon supernatural aid, started with insufficient preparations on adventurous undertakings. This grand religious enthusiasm did not reach the North until its force was partly spent. Some of the men who had visited Jerusalem returned home, but apparently were but little affected by religious phases of the war against the unbelievers. They talked rather of the chances for worldly fame and gain which the crusade presented, and aroused a desire in many of their countrymen to win both heavenly and earthly glory by an expedition to the Holy Land. It was the general desire that one of the princes should command the expedition, and Sigurd, who had inherited his father's spirit, willingly consented. In order to fit himself out properly he needed money, and this he could not get without the good-will of the people. He had the wisdom to see, that the success of his enterprise could be better advanced by concession than by extortion, and he therefore abolished, once for all, the oppressive laws of Sweyn Alfifasson, and gained thereby a great popularity. Eystein assisted his brother energetically in his equipments, and, in the autumn of 1107, Sigurd sailed away with a fleet of sixty large ships and ten thousand men. He paid first a friendly visit to England, where he was received with great distinction by King Henry I. Thence he steered his course to Spain, where he had many adventures, fought against the Moors, and destroyed a pirate's nest on the island Formentera. In Italy he was magnificently received by Robert Guiscard's son, Duke Roger, who was proud of his Norse descent, and greeted the king of Norway as he would a kinsman. He even (if the saga account is to be trusted) acknowledged Sigurd as his overlord, and consented to receive the royal title from his hands. Duke Roger died, however, soon after and had no opportunity to assert his new dignity. It was not until August, 1110, that Sigurd reached the Holy Land. He landed at Joppa, where he was met by King Baldwin, who accompanied him to Jerusalem, and showed him the holy sepulchre and all the places that are associated with the Saviour's life and death. The Patriarch of Jerusalem presented Sigurd with a splint of the true cross to be preserved at St. Olaf's shrine, on condition that the king, on his return, should impose tithes for the support of the church. Before starting on his homeward way, Sigurd assisted Baldwin and Count Bertrand of Tripolis, at the sieges of Sidon and Akron, and received his share of the booty. He then betook himself to Constantinople, where games were celebrated in his honor by the Emperor Alexius, and a lavish magnificence was displayed in his entertainment, the like of which the Norsemen had never beheld. Sigurd forbade them, however, to show surprise at any thing they saw, lest the Greeks should conclude that they were barbarians, unaccustomed to luxury. In July, 1111, the king returned to Norway after an absence of three years and a half. He received henceforth the surname the Crusader (Jorsalfar).

The thirst for glory which animated Sigurd was in striking contrast to the peaceful spirit which dwelt in his brother, Eystein. Upon the former had descended the restless ambition of Magnus Barefoot, while the latter had inherited his grandfather Olaf the Quiet's taste for building and calm delight in well-doing. While Sigurd scoured sea and land in search of fame, Eystein sat quietly at home, building churches, encouraging trade and industry, and improving the laws. By sheer dint of persuasion, gifts, and appeals to their self-interest, he gained the allegiance of the inhabitants of the Swedish province, Jemteland, which in the reign of Haakon the Good had belonged to Norway. Knowing the importance of the fisheries, as a source of national wealth, he had booths erected in Vaagen for the accommodation of the fishermen, and a church and parsonage for their spiritual welfare. At Agdeness, where many ships were wrecked, he made an artificial harbor by the construction of a mole. As a guide to sailors along the dangerous coast, he put up sea-marks and primitive light-houses, in the shape of fires which were lighted, after dark, on certain rocks and promontories. For the shelter of pilgrims to St. Olaf's shrine and other travellers, he built taverns on the Dovre Mountain, the passage of which had hitherto been perilous, on account of the snow and the absence of roads. Among the many churches which were erected by him were the Church of the Apostles, and St. Michael's in Bergen, St. Nicholas in Nidaros, and the rich Benedictine Monastery, Munkeliv.

With all their devotion to war and tendency to violence, the Norsemen could not help loving this wise and peaceful king, whose constant care was their welfare. That their old bellicose ideals were being superseded by gentler and nobler ones is indicated by their devotion for their two unwarlike kings, Olaf the Quiet and Eystein Magnusson. Of these two Eystein was, in point of intellect and strength of character, the more eminent. He seems to have pursued his policy of construction, instead of destruction, not merely from temperamental bias, but from clear-sighted conviction. His fondness for the study of law and the importance he attached to legal knowledge are, in this respect, significant. The sound sense and moderation which distinguished his grandfather he also possessed in a marked degree, besides the same gentleness and charm of manner. In appearance he was like most of his race, large and handsome; he had blue eyes, blonde, curly hair, and a dignified presence.

It was scarcely to be expected that two brothers, so antagonistic in disposition as Sigurd and Eystein, could avoid clashing. Sigurd felt himself as a man of the world, who had cut a brilliant figure in foreign lands, and he looked upon Eystein as a stay-at-home, who could boast of no such experience. He scarcely appreciated the fact that his brother, though he might have put obstacles in his path, received him heartily, on his return, and willingly shared his authority with him. It was incomprehensible to him that a quiet man like Eystein, who had no great deeds to boast of, should enjoy as much consideration and respect as himself. Above all, it was Eystein's insistence upon legal methods, in all relations between subject and king, which seemed to Sigurd an interference with his authority, and, therefore, irritated him. A serious disagreement soon arose from this source. Once, when Sigurd was in Troendelag, he insulted the beautiful Sigrid, the wife of the liegeman, Ivar of Fljod, after having sent the latter on a dangerous expedition to Ireland. This Sigrid's brother, Sigurd Ranesson, resented, and was, by way of revenge, accused by the king of embezzlement in the Finn-trade, which had been farmed out to him by Magnus Barefoot. In his need he appealed to King Eystein, who, when he heard the story, promised him his assistance. Three times Sigurd Ranesson was now summoned to court by King Sigurd, but every time Eystein's superior knowledge of the law saved him. The legal procedure, which is recorded in detail, is full of interest, and shows a remarkable development of the social organization, considering the time. In the end, however, Eystein had not only to assume the conduct of the case, but became a party to the suit, in his client's place. King Sigurd was greatly incensed, and Sigurd Ranesson, in order to avoid bloodshed, went late in the evening on board of his enemy's ship, fell on his knees before him, and said: "I will not, my lord king, that you and your brother shall be at strife on my account. * * * Rather I surrender myself and my head to your power and mercy, * * * for I would rather die than be the cause of hostility between you and King Eystein."

The king, after having pondered long, answered: "In sooth thou art a noble man, Sigurd, and thou hast chosen the way which will be best for us all. Know that * * * I had firmly resolved to-morrow to go up to the Ilevolds with all my men, and fight with King Eystein."

He now gave judgment that his antagonist should pay fifteen marks in gold, which should be divided between the three kings, but as Eystein and Olaf both refused to accept their share of the money, Sigurd, not wishing to be outdone in generosity, likewise renounced his claim.

Though there was now no danger of war, the relation between the brothers was yet far from cordial. A fresh source of disagreement soon arose, for which Sigurd, as usual, was to blame. The rumor came to him that Eystein was very fond of a maiden, named Borghild, the daughter of the powerful peasant, Olaf of Dal; that he loved to sit at her side and talk with her, and that his predilection for her society had been the cause of scandalous reports. Borghild, in order to prove her innocence, walked on glowing plough-shares, and endured the test. Sigurd, seeing that here was an opportunity to pay his brother back for his protection of Sigurd Ranesson, abducted Borghild and made her his mistress. She became the mother of Magnus, who, for a short time, was king after his father's death. Eystein took this affair much to heart, but made no effort to avenge the wrong he had suffered. That he felt sore about it was, however, natural enough, and this feeling burst forth on one occasion most unexpectedly; though, to be sure, no allusion was made to the real grievance.

It happened once, during the winter, that the two kings were feasting together at one of Eystein's estates. King Sigurd's men, reflecting the spirit of their master, behaved arrogantly toward King Eystein's people, and were fond of exalting the one brother at the other's expense. Many complaints were brought to Eystein, but he refused to take note of them. The strained relation between the two parties, however, spoiled the cheer of the table, and the men sat sullen over their cups and were ill at ease. Then Eystein, with perhaps a deeper purpose than the apparent one, proposed a so-called "man-measuring," or comparison of merits, which was a favorite social pastime in those days. It is to be remarked, that etiquette did not then forbid a man to boast of his own deeds and accomplishments. On the contrary, the custom survived from the age of paganism to emphasize frankly one's merits, and when occasion demanded, to hurl tremendous volleys of vituperation against an adversary.

"Dost thou remember," Sigurd began, in response to his brother's challenge, "how I threw thee in wrestling, * * * although thou wast a year older than I?"

"I remember also," Eystein replied, "that thou wast my inferior in agility."

Step by step they now advanced through childhood and youth, comparing each other's proficiency in swimming, skating, shooting, skee-running, and in personal appearance. Finally, Sigurd touched the main point at issue, when he said:

"It has been generally acknowledged that the campaign, which I made in foreign lands, was in sooth worthy of a chieftain, while thou sattest at home in thy country like thy father's daughter."

"* * * I think I also remember," Eystein rejoined, "that it was I who fitted thee out from home for that campaign, as I would have done a daughter."

"But I went to the Holy Land and to Africa, but there I saw thee not. I won eight battles. Thou wast not in one of them. I went to the sepulchre of Christ; there I saw thee not. I went to the River Jordan, by the same road that our Lord had gone, and I swam across; but I saw thee not there. I tied a knot for thee in the underbrush on the river-bank, and it is yet waiting for thee to untie it. I conquered the city of Sidon with the king of Jerusalem, without thy aid or counsel."

Eystein listened imperturbably to this long list of his brother's deeds, and finally answered: "I have indeed heard, that thou didst fight some battles abroad, and what I have to match against such deeds is but trifles. North in Vaagen I put up booths for the fishermen, so that poor people may find shelter and earn their living. I had a church erected, appointed a priest, and gave land for the support of the church. * * * Those who enjoy the benefit of this will remember that Eystein was king in Norway. * * * Across the Dovre Mountain there was much travel. There people lay out on the rocks and suffered hardships. I built an inn and endowed it. The travellers, who now reap the benefit of this, will remember King Eystein. At Agdeness there was a dangerous coast and no harbor, so that ships were often wrecked. There I constructed a harbor, where there is excellent anchorage for all ships. * * * I likewise built a church there and put up sea-marks on the high mountains. * * * All these things are now of service to fishermen and merchants who carry the products of the land from place to place, and they, while benefiting by them, will remember me. * * * The inhabitants of Jemteland I made subject to this realm, not by violence, but by gentle words and rational negotiations. * * * All these things are perhaps of small moment, but I do not believe that they are of less benefit to my country and people, and will profit my soul less, than it will profit thine to have sent Moors to the devil, and expedited them head over heels to hell. * * * Now, as regards the knot thou didst tie for me, then, methinks, I might have tied such a knot for thee that thou wouldst never have been king in Norway, when thou returnedst from thy campaign, and didst sail hither with but a single ship. Let, now, intelligent men judge, what advantage thou hast over me, and know ye, ye purse-proud braggarts, that there are yet men in Norway, who dare hold themselves your equals."

This was the end of the "man-measuring"; and both kings were very wroth.

Several other incidents are recorded, which show that Sigurd's jealousy of his brother would, at length, have brought about a breach of the peace, if death had not suddenly made an end of their intercourse. Eystein died at the age of thirty-three, August 29, 1122. The youngest brother, Olaf, had died (1115) before he reached manhood, and Sigurd was accordingly the sole ruler in the land. He was now free from the restraint, which Eystein's pacific disposition had imposed upon him, and he presently availed himself of his liberty to make a crusade into the Swedish province Smaaland, where paganism yet lingered (1123). He attacked the town of Kalmar, from which incident the war has been called the Kalmar War. Whether he succeeded in converting the pagans is not known; nor are any other results of the crusade recorded. After his return from this campaign, a great calamity befell him. Once, it is told, when he was in his bath, he called out, that there was a fish in the bath-tub, and ran about trying to catch it. It was the first symptom of the insanity which darkened the remaining years of his life. He was often sane for long periods; but, at times, he would sit and brood with wildly rolling eyes, or break out into paroxysms of wrath. Once, on the day of Pentecost, when his madness came upon him, he took a precious book,[A] which he had brought with him from Constantinople, and, gazing gloomily at Queen Malmfrid, who was sitting at his side, said: "How many things can change in a man's lifetime! When I returned to my country, I owned two things which seemed to me most precious,--this book and the queen. Now the one seems only more worthless than the other. The queen does not know how hideous she is; for a goat's horn is sticking out of her head. * * * And this book here is good for nothing."

[Footnote A: A codex written in letters of gold, containing probably a portion of the Bible.]

Then he rose, gave the queen a slap, and flung the book into the fire. But in the same instant, a young taper-bearer, named Ottar Birting, jumped forward, snatched the book from the flames, and stepped fearlessly before the king. "Different it is now, my lord," he said, "from the time, when thou didst sail with pomp and splendor to Norway, and all thy friends hastened with joy to meet thee. * * * Now the days of sorrow have come upon us; for to this glorious feast many of thy friends have come, but they cannot be glad because of thy sad condition. Be now so kind, good my lord, to accept this advice. Rejoice by thy gentleness first the queen, whom thou hast so sorely offended, and then all thy chieftains, thy men-at-arms, thy friends, and thy servants."

"How darest thou, ugly, low-born tenant's son, give me counsel?" cried the king, springing up and drawing his sword.

All the guests expected, in the next moment, to see Ottar's head roll on the floor. But Ottar stood, gazing calmly into the king's face, and did not stir from the spot. Then Sigurd suddenly stayed his hand and let the sword fall gently upon his shoulder. He rebuked his liegemen, for not having protested against his insane acts, and thanked the youth for his courage.

"Go, therefore, Ottar," he finished; "and take thy seat among the liegemen. Thou shalt no more wait upon any one."

Ottar Birting became in later years a man of great fame and authority.

It may have been due to the unsoundness of his mind that Sigurd, in the last years of his life committed an act, which, however generous it may seem, was scarcely politically defensible. In the year 1129, a young Irishman named Harold Gilchrist arrived in Norway and declared that he was a son of Magnus Barefoot. It was known that King Magnus had had a mistress in Ireland, and during his last battle he is said to have recited a verse about an Irish girl, whom he loved above all others. It is therefore probable that Harold Gilchrist was, or at least believed himself to be, heir to the throne of Norway. He went to King Sigurd, who listened to his story, and allowed him to prove the truth of his statement by submitting to the ordeal by fire. He walked over the red-hot ploughshares and endured the test successfully. It was the priests who had charge of such ordeals, and it was believed that they had the result in their power. Harold Gilchrist, or Gille, as the Norsemen called him, was now acknowledged by the king as his brother, on condition that he should make no claim to the government, as long as Sigurd or his son Magnus was alive. It was, however, no easy task for the king to secure for the long-necked, thin-legged, and lanky Irishman the respect which was due to a member of the royal family. In the first place Harold's appearance was against him, and in the second place, he stammered and could scarcely make himself understood in Norwegian. The king's son, Magnus, hated and ridiculed him, and among the liegemen there were many who believed him to be an unscrupulous adventurer. A few years before his death, Sigurd put away Queen Malmfrid, disregarding the warning of Bishop Magne, and married a beautiful and high-born woman, named Cecilia. He did not long survive this marriage. Many of his friends urged him, for the good of his soul, to dissolve it. But the fascination, which Cecilia exercised over him, was so great, that he could not bear the thought of losing her. At last, when he was taken ill, she herself suggested a separation.

"I did not know that thou, too, didst despise me like the rest," he answered sadly. His face flushed purple, and he turned away from her. His illness now took a turn for the worse, and on March 26, 1130, he died, forty years old. Dissipations had undermined his health, and his insanity had long unfitted him for the cares of government. For all that, there seems to be a halo about his name, partly on account of his early fame, and partly because of the good crops and commercial prosperity which prevailed during his reign. He seemed to the people a grand figure, and, in spite of his great faults, every inch a king. What may have contributed more than any thing else to endear his memory to later generations was the evil times that broke over the land at his death. He seemed himself to have a foreboding of this, when he said:

"Ye are badly off, ye Norsemen, for you have a mad king; and yet methinks that, in a short while, you will be willing to give the red gold to have me as your king, rather than Harold or Magnus; for the former is cruel; the latter is devoid of sense."