It does not concern us here to follow the story of Olaf Trygveson point by point. Much of his history is taken up with attempts to force Christianity upon his people, as King Hakon had done. Having learned the doctrines of Christianity in England and been baptized there, he was determined that all his people should follow his example and be baptized also. But the chief doctrine of Christianity, the love of all men as brothers and the forgiveness of foes, he had not learned; and when he proclaimed abroad that “all Norway should be Christian or die” he was far from the spirit of the Christian life. His persecutions of his people stain an otherwise great and humane reign; and he was not content with forcing his religion on Norway, but sent a priest of much the same temper as his own to convert Iceland to Christianity by similar means, stirring up strife and bringing misery upon a nation that heretofore had been prosperous and peaceable. For though it may have been well for these countries to forsake their old religion and embrace Christianity, it was an evil thing to force it upon the people in such a way.

Otherwise the reign of Olaf was a happy one; he was loved by his friends and feared by his foes. But, as was usual when things went well, enemies began to gather about him, and a coalition was formed between the Danish King Sweyn Fork-beard, and the Swedish King, who was his brother-in-law, to fight Olaf, and drive him out of his kingdom. It was Sweyn’s wife, Sigrid the Haughty, who urged him on to this. She had once been betrothed to Olaf, but the betrothal had come to an end because Olaf insisted that she should be baptized before he married her. When he spake thus to her she had replied: “It is for you to choose whatever religion suits you best; but as for me, I will not part from my own faith, which was the faith of my forefathers before me.” Olaf was enraged at that, and he struck her face with his glove in his passion, and rose up saying, “Why should I care to marry thee, an aged woman and a heathen?” and with that he left her. Sigrid the Haughty had never forgiven the insult put on her by Olaf, and when she was married to Sweyn she thought her time was come to be revenged; so she stirred him up to make war on Olaf.

Olaf was very fond of having fine war-vessels built for him, of greater size and height than any that had been built hitherto. He had a fleet of over seventy vessels, all good craft, to meet King Sweyn, but chief of these were his own three ships, the Crane, the Long Serpent, and the Short Serpent. These were the finest vessels that had been planned in Norway, and were known all over the world. The lighter craft sailed first, and got out to sea, Olaf with his great ships following more slowly behind. Along with him was Earl Sigvalde, whom he thought to be his friend, but who was secretly in the pay of King Sweyn; he had induced Olaf to postpone sailing on one pretence or another, until he heard that Sweyn had collected his whole army and fleet together, and was lying under the island of Svold, in the Baltic, awaiting Olaf Trygveson. The Swedish King, together with Earl Eirik were, with all their forces, watching anxiously for the coming of Olaf’s fleet. The weather was fine, with clear sunshine, and they went upon the island to see the vessels coming in from the open sea, sailing close together. They saw among them one large and shining ship. The two kings said: “That is a large and very beautiful vessel; that will be the Long Serpent.” But Earl Eirik replied: “That is not the Long Serpent; the vessel in which Olaf sails is greater still than that.”

Soon they saw another vessel following, much larger than the first, but no figure-head on her prow. “That,” said King Sweyn, “must be Olaf’s ship, but it is evident that he is afraid of us, for he has taken the dragon off his prow, that we may not recognize his ship.”

Eirik said again: “That is not yet the King’s ship, for his ship has striped sails. It must be Erling Skialgson’s ship. Let it pass on, that it may be separated from Olaf’s fleet.”

Next came up Earl Sigvalde the traitor’s ships, which were in league with the enemy; they turned in and moored themselves under the island, for they did not intend to fight for Olaf. After that came three ships moving swiftly along under full sail, all of great size, but one larger than the rest. “Get your arms in your hands,” said King Sweyn, “man the boats, for this must be Olaf’s Long Serpent.” “Wait a little,” said Eirik again; “many other great vessels have they besides the dragon ship.” Then all Sweyn’s followers began to grumble, thinking that Eirik made excuses to prevent them from going to war, for he had been Olaf’s vassal at one time, and they were doubtful of his fidelity. But as they complained, Eirik pointed with his finger out to sea. And there upon the horizon they saw four splendid ships bearing proudly along, the one in the centre having a large dragon-head, richly gilt. Then Sweyn stood up and said: “That dragon shall bear me high to-night, for I shall be its steersman.” And they all cried: “The Long Serpent is indeed a wonderful ship, and the man who built it must be great of mind.” But in his excitement Eirik forgot where he was, and he cried aloud so that the King himself heard him: “If there were no other vessels with King Olaf but only this one, King Sweyn would never with the Danish forces alone be able to take it from him.”

Then all the sailors and men-at-arms rushed to their ships and took down the coverings or tents that sheltered them on board, and got them ready for fighting. Earl Eirik’s vessel, which he used on his viking expeditions, was a large ship with an iron comb or spiked top on both sides to protect it, and it was iron-plated right down to the gunwale.

When King Olaf sailed into the Sound, with the Short Serpent and the Crane attending on him, the other boats were lying by under the island, following in the wake of the traitor, Earl Sigvalde, with their sails reefed, and drifting with the tide. On the other side of the Sound were the fleet of the enemy, trimmed and in full battle array, rowing out into the Sound; the fleets of Sweden and Denmark united together. When some of Olaf’s men saw this, they begged him to sail at full speed out of the Sound into the open sea again, and not risk battle with so great a force. But the King, standing on his quarter-deck, in view of all his host, exclaimed: “Strike the sails. No man shall ever learn of me to fly before the enemy. Never yet have I fled from battle, nor ever will. Let God dispose as He thinks best, but flight I never shall attempt.”

Then he ordered his war-horns to be sounded and the ships to close up to each other, and lash themselves together, side by side, under the island, as the Norse were wont to do in battle; thus no ship could forsake the others, but all fought side by side to the end. The King’s ship lay in the middle of the line, with the Crane on one side and the Little Serpent on the other, all fastened together at the head; but the dragon ship was so long that it stood out behind the others; and when the King saw this he called out to his men to lay his Long Serpent, the dragon ship, more in advance, so that its stern should lie even with the other ships behind.

“We shall have hot work of it here on the forecastle, if the King’s ship stands out beyond the rest,” said Ulf the Red.

“I did not think I had a forecastle man who would grow red with dread,” said the King, punning on Ulf’s name.

“I hope you will defend the quarter-deck as well as I defend the forecastle,” replied Ulf, who was vexed at Olaf’s sneer.

There was a bow in the King’s hands, and he fixed an arrow on the string to take aim at Ulf.

“Shoot the other way, King,” said Ulf, “where it is needed more; maybe you will need my arm to-day.”

King Olaf stood on the quarter-deck, high above all. He had a gilt shield and a helmet inlaid with gold; over his armour he wore a short red cloak, so that it was easy to distinguish him from other men. He asked one who stood by him: “Who is the leader of the force right opposite to us?”

“King Sweyn, with the Danish fighting-men,” was the reply.

The King replied: “We have no fear of those soft Danes, for there is no bravery in them. Who are the troops on the right of the Danes?”

“King Olaf the Swede, with his troops,” was the answer.

“It were better for these Swedes to be sitting at home killing pagan sacrifices, than venturing so near the weapons of the Long Serpent,” said the King. “But who owns the large ships on the larboard side?”

“Earl Eirik Hakonson,” said they.

“Ah,” said the King, “it is from that quarter we may expect the sharpest conflict, for his men are Norsemen like ourselves.”

The battle of Svold was fought in September, in the year 1000, and it was one of the hardest sea-conflicts ever known in the North.

King Sweyn laid his ship against the Long Serpent, and on either side of him the King of Sweden and Earl Eirik attacked the Little Serpent and the Crane. The forecastle men on Olaf’s ships threw out grappling-irons and chains to make fast King Sweyn’s ship, and they fought so hotly there that the King had to escape to another ship, and Olaf’s men boarded the vessel and cleared the decks. King Olaf the Swede fared no better, for when he took Sweyn’s place he found the battle so hot that he too had to get away out of range.

But it was a different story with Earl Eirik, as Olaf had said. In the forehold of his ship he had had a parapet of shields set up to protect his men; and as fast as one man fell another would come up to take his place, and there he fought desperately with every kind of weapon. So many spears and arrows were cast into the Long Serpent that the shields could scarce receive them, for on all sides the vessel was surrounded by the enemy. Then King Olaf’s men grew so mad with rage that they ran on board the enemies’ ships, to get at the people with stroke of sword at close quarters, but many of them missed their footing and went overboard, and sank in the sea with the weight of their weapons. The King himself stood in the gangway shooting all day, sometimes with his bow, but more often casting two spears at once. Once, when he stooped down and stretched out his right hand, the men beside him saw that blood was running down under his steel glove, though he had told no one that he was wounded.

Einar Tambaskelfer, one of the sharpest of bow-men, stood by the mast, and aimed an arrow at Earl Eirik. The arrow hit the tiller end just above the earl’s head with such force that it sank into the wood up to the shaft. The earl looked that way, and asked if they knew who made that shot, but just as he was speaking another arrow flew between his hand and his side, and fixed itself into the stuffing of his stool, so that the barb stood far out on the other side. “Shoot that tall man standing by the mast for me,” said the earl to one who stood beside him. The man shot, and the arrow hit the middle of Einar’s bow just as he was drawing it, and the bow split into two parts.

“What is that,” cried King Olaf, “that broke with such a noise?”

“Norway, King, from thy hands,” said Einar.

Not long after this the fight became so fierce that it seemed as though none of Olaf’s men would be left alive. Twice Earl Eirik boarded the Long Serpent, and twice he was driven off again, but so many of the fighting-men fell that in many places the ships’ sides were quite bare of defenders. At length Earl Eirik with his men boarded her again, and filled the ship from stem to stern with his own host, so that Olaf saw that all was lost. Then Olaf and his marshal sprang together overboard; but the earl’s men had laid boats around the dragon ship, to kill all who fell overboard. They tried to seize Olaf alive to bring him to Earl Eirik; but King Olaf threw his shield over his head and sank beneath the waters.

Many tales were told of the King, for none would believe that he was dead. Some said that he had cast off his coat of mail beneath the water and had swum, diving under the long ships, and so had escaped; only one thing is certain, that he never came back to Norway or to his kingdom again. The poet Halfred speaks thus about him:—