One of the greatest Kings of Norway was named Olaf Trygveson (i.e. the son of Trygve), who became King of Norway in 995. He had an adventurous career, part of it being connected with the British Isles, where he spent ten years in hiding in his youth, only returning to his native country when his people called on him to take the crown.

His father, Trygve, had been treacherously put to death shortly before he was born, and his mother had fled away with a few faithful followers, and had taken refuge in a lonely island in a lake; here Olaf was born in 963, and baptized with heathen baptism, and called after his grandfather, a son of Harald Fairhair.

During all that summer Astrid, his mother, stayed secretly in the island; but when the days grew shorter, and the nights colder, she was obliged to leave the damp island and take refuge on the mainland, in the house of her father, reaching it by weary night-marches, for they feared to be seen if they travelled by day. But soon news reached them that their enemies were searching for them, and they dared not stay longer, but clothed themselves in mean clothing and went on again, meeting with many rebuffs, until at last they got out of the kingdom, and were protected for three years by Hakon the Old, King of Sweden. Now Astrid had a brother in Russia in the service of the Russian King, and she thought that Olaf would be safer if she went thither with him; so they set sail in a ship provided by Hakon the Old, but again ill-luck overtook them, for they were captured by pirates in the Baltic, and the little lad was separated from his mother, and sold as a slave into Russia. But there a better fortune came to him, for he fell in with his cousin, his mother’s nephew, who bought him from his master, and took him to the King’s palace, and commended him to the care of the Queen. There Olaf grew up, and men favoured him, for he was stout and strong, and a handsome man, and accomplished in manly exercises. But he dared not go back to his own country, so he took ship and sailed to England, and ravaged wide around the borders. He sailed right round Britain, and down to the coast of France, laying the land waste with fire and sword wherever he came. After that he came to the Scilly Isles, and lay there, for he was weary after his four years’ cruise. This was in 988. He did not wish it to be known who he was, so he called himself Ole instead of Olaf, and gave out that he was a Russian. One day he heard that a clever fortune-teller was in the place, and he sent one of his company to him, pretending that this man was himself. But the fortune-teller knew at once that this was not so, and he said: “Thou art not the King, but I advise thee to be faithful to thy king.” And no more at all would he say to him than that. Then Olaf went to him himself, and asked what luck he would have if he should attempt to regain his kingdom. The hermit replied that he would become a renowned king, and that he ought to adopt the Christian religion and suffer himself to be baptized; and he told him many things regarding his future. That autumn a summons was sent through the country for a great Thing-mote, or meeting of the Danes in the South of England; and Olaf went to the Thing in disguise, wearing his bad-weather clothes and a coarse cloak, and keeping apart with his people from the rest. There was also at the Thing a lady called Gyda, who was sister of Olaf Cuaran, or Olaf o’ the Sandal, Danish King of Dublin. She had been married to a great English earl, and after his death she ruled all his property. She had in her territory a strong, rough champion, named Alfvine, who wooed her in marriage, but she did not favour his suit, saying she would only marry again as she pleased. She said he should have his answer at the Thing, so he came in his best, sure that the Lady Gyda would soon be his wife. But Gyda went all round the company, looking in each man’s face, to see whom she would choose; but she chose none until she came where Olaf stood. She looked him straight in the face, and in spite of his common clothing she thought the face good and handsome. So she said to him: “Who are you, and what do you here?” “My name is Ole,” he replied; “but I am a stranger here.” “In spite of that,” she said; “wilt thou have me for thy wife, if I ask thee?” “I do not think I would say no to that,” he answered; “but tell me of what country you are, for I am, as I said, a stranger here.”

“I am called Gyda,” said she; “and I am sister of the Danish King of Ireland. But I was married to an earl in this country. Since his death many have asked for my hand, but I did not choose to marry any of them.” Then Olaf saw that she was a young and very handsome woman, and he liked her well, and they talked a long while together, and after that they were betrothed. Alfvine was furious when he heard this, and he challenged Olaf to fight, but Olaf and his followers struck down Alfvine and his men, and he ordered Alfvine to leave the country and never return again. Then he and Gyda were wedded, and they lived sometimes in England and sometimes in Ireland.

It was in Ireland that Olaf got his wolf-hound, Vige. The Irish dogs were famous all over the world for their great size and intelligence; they were large, smooth hounds, and the constant companions of men. One day Olaf and his men were sailing along the east coast of Ireland, when, growing short of provisions, they made a foray inland, his men driving down a herd of cattle to the water’s edge. One of their owners, a peasant, came up and begged Olaf to give him back his own cows, which he said were all the property he possessed. Olaf, looking at the large herd of kine on the strand, told him laughingly that he might take back his own cows, if he could distinguish them in the herd. “But be quick about it,” he added, “for we cannot delay our march for you.”

He thought that out of such a number of cattle it would be impossible to tell which were owned by any single person. But the man called his hound and bade him go amongst the hundreds of beasts and bring out his own. In a few minutes the dog had gathered into one group exactly the number of cows that the peasant said he owned, all of them marked with the same mark. Olaf was so surprised at the sagacity of the dog that he asked the peasant if he would sell him to him. “Nay,” said the peasant, “but as you have given me back my cattle, I will gladly give him to you: his name is Vige, and he will, I hope, be as good a dog to you as he is to me.” Olaf thanked the man, and gave him a gold ring in return, and promised him his protection. From that time forth Olaf went nowhere without his dog Vige; he was the most sagacious of dogs, and remained with Olaf till the day of his death. Once when Olaf was fighting in Norway, and driving his enemies before him, Thorer, their leader, ran so fast that he could not come up with him. His dog Vige was beside him, and he said, “Vige! Vige! catch the deer!” In an instant Vige came up with Thorer, who turned and struck at him with his sword, giving him a great wound; but Olaf’s spear passed through Thorer at the same instant and he fell dead. But Vige was carried wounded to the ships. Long afterwards, when Olaf disappeared after the battle of Svold, Vige was, as usual, on his master’s ship, the Long Serpent. One of the chiefs went to him, and said: “Now we have no master, Vige!” whereupon the dog began to howl, and would not be comforted. When the Long Serpent came near to land he sprang on shore, and ran to a burial-mound which he thought was Olaf’s grave and stretched himself upon it, refusing to take food. Great tears fell from his eyes, and there he died, in grief for the loss of his master.

Now it began to be whispered about in Norway that to the westward, over the Northern Sea, was a man called Ole, whom some people thought to be a king. At that time a powerful earl, named Hakon, ruled in Norway, and the land prospered under him, but he himself was a man of unruly passions, and his people, especially the great lords, hated him for his exactions and cruelties, and were ready enough to turn against him. Earl Hakon became alarmed lest this Ole, of whom men spoke, should turn out to belong to Norway, and should some day dispute the sovereignty of the kingdom with him. He recalled that he had heard that King Trygve had had a son, who had gone east to Russia, having been brought up there by King Valdemar, and he had his suspicions that this Ole might prove to be Trygve’s son. So he called a friend of his, called Thorer Klakka, who went often on viking expeditions, and sometimes also on merchant voyages, and who was well known everywhere, and he bade him make a trading voyage to Dublin, as many were in the habit of doing, and there to inquire carefully who Ole was. If it should prove that he was indeed Olaf Trygveson, he was to persuade him to come to Norway, and by some means to ensnare him into the earl’s power. So Thorer sailed west to Ireland, and found that Olaf was in Dublin with his wife’s father, Olaf O’ the Sandal; then he went to do business with Olaf, and, being a clever, plausible man, they became acquainted. Thus gradually he learned from Olaf who he was, and that he had some thoughts of going back to try to recover his kingdom; for his heart turned often toward his native land. Thorer encouraged him in every way, praising him highly and telling him that Earl Hakon was disliked and that it would be easy for one of Harald Fairhair’s race to win the country to his side. As he talked thus Olaf began more and more to wish to return. But Thorer’s words were spoken deceitfully, for he intended, if he could persuade Olaf to return to Norway, to give Hakon warning, so that Olaf would at once be taken prisoner and put to death. In the end Olaf decided to go, and they set out by way of the Orkneys, with five ships; he sailed straight out to sea eastward and gained the coast of Norway, travelling in such haste that no one was well aware that he was coming. As they came close to land tidings reached them that Hakon was near, and that his bondes or farmers and great men were all in disaccord with him. Thorer Klakka had not thought of this, for when he left Norway the people were at peace with Hakon; now he saw that things might turn out in a very different way from what he expected. At that very moment Earl Hakon was flying from his lords, who were determined to kill him, and it did not comfort him to hear that Olaf Trygveson was come overseas and was anchored in the fiord. He fled away with only one servant, named Kark, and took refuge with a woman whom he knew, named Thorer, begging her to conceal him from his pursuers. She did not know where she could hide him to prevent his being discovered, for it was well known by all that she was a friend of his. “They will hunt for you here, both inside my house and out,” she said. “I have only one safe place, where they would never expect to find you, and that is in the pig-sty; but it is not a pleasant place for a man like you.” “Well,” said the earl, “the first thing we need is our life; let it be made ready for us.”

So the slave dug a hole beneath the sty, and laid wood over the place where he had dug out the earth, and then the earl and Kark went into the hole, and Thorer covered it with earth and dung and drove in the swine round the great stone that was in the centre of the sty.

When Olaf sailed with his five ships into the fiord all the bondes gathered joyfully to him, and readily agreed to make him King of Norway. They set forth at once to seek Earl Hakon, in order to put him to death; and it so chanced that they went straight to the house where Hakon lay, and searched inside and out, but they could not find him. Hakon, from under the sty, could hear them searching, and could dimly see their forms moving about, and he was full of fear, for he was not a very brave man. Then, close by the great stone, Olaf held a council, and he stood upon the stone and made a speech to them, promising a great reward to the man who should find and kill the earl. All this was heard by Hakon and by Kark, his man.

“Why art thou so pale at one moment, and again as black as death?” said the earl to Kark. “Is it thy intention to win that reward by betraying me?”

“By no means whatever,” said Kark.

“We were born on the same night,” said the earl, “and I think there will not be much more difference between the time of our deaths.”

King Olaf went away that evening. When night came the earl kept himself awake, for he was afraid of Kark; but Kark slept a disturbed sleep. The earl at last woke him and asked him what he was dreaming about.

“I dreamed I was at Lade, and Olaf Trygveson was laying a gold ring round my neck.”

“It will be a red and not a gold ring that Olaf will put about thy neck if ever he catches thee,” said the earl; “take you care of that. It is only from me that you will enjoy good, so beware that you betray me not.”

From that time each of them kept himself awake, watching the other, until toward daybreak the earl’s head fell forward, and he dropped asleep, for the air was close and he was weary. But his sleep was so unquiet that he suddenly screamed out loudly, and drew himself together, as if to spring up. On this Kark, dreadfully alarmed, drew a large knife out of his belt and struck at the earl, and in a moment he fell dead, with his head severed from his body. Then in the early morning Kark got out of the hole with Hakon’s head and ran with it to Olaf, telling what had befallen them. But Olaf had him taken out and beheaded. Soon after that Olaf was elected King of Norway at a general Thing, as his great-grandfather, Harald Fairhair, had been. This was in the year 995.