Harald Hardrada was not the last King of Norway to visit these countries. Long after this the Norwegian kings tried at times to assert their rights over the Orkneys and other parts of Scotland, and came over to enforce their claim. King Magnus, who reigned after the death of Olaf Kyrre (1094–1103), made several descents upon Britain and Ireland; he stayed so long, and grew so fond of the latter country, that he adopted the kilt, and was called in consequence by his own people “Magnus Barelegs.” He seized the Earls of the Orkneys, the brothers Paul and Erlend, and sent them east to Norway as prisoners, and placed a son of his own over the Orkneys. Then he went south to the Hebrides (Sudreyar) and conquered the whole of the Western Isles, and seized the King’s son. After that he sailed to Wales, and fought the two Hughs, Hugh the Stout, Earl of Chester, and Hugh the Bold, Earl of Salop, in the battle of Anglesea Sound. He had with him there the son of Earl Erland, afterwards Magnus “the Saint,” Earl of Orkney, who sat down on the fore-deck with his psalter open before him and would not take arms. The King asked him why he had not armed. He said he had no quarrel with anyone there, and would not fight. Then the King said angrily: “If you dare not fight, go down below, and do not lie among other people’s feet, for I do not believe it is from religious motives that you refuse to fight for us.”

But the lad sat on quietly, taking no shelter, and singing during the battle, but getting no hurt, though many of the King’s men were sorely wounded. When Hugh the Bold was killed the others fled, and left the victory with King Magnus. He never forgave Magnus, the earl’s son, for refusing to fight at Anglesea Sound, and he made him his serving-man; but one night the youth slipped away, and after concealing himself in the woods he made his way to the Court of the Scottish King, and did not return to the Orkneys until King Magnus was dead.

The King remained all the winter in the Hebrides, though many of his followers deserted and went home to Norway. The King of Scots offered him all the islands lying west of Scotland between which and the mainland he could pass with his rudder shipped. Then Magnus landed in Cantyre, and had his boat dragged across the neck of the mainland, himself holding the helm; thus he got Cantyre for himself as well as the islands. He sent thence to Ireland for a wife for his son, and married him to a daughter of Murtough, or Myrkiartan, King of Connaught, though his son was only nine winters old and she only five. Such early marriages were not uncommon in old times.

When Magnus returned home after this viking cruise, his people were astonished to see their King going about in a kilt, with bare legs and over-cloak, like a Scotsman or Irishman; most of his followers being dressed in the same way as the King. He was taller than most men, and could everywhere be seen towering above his followers. His people had many names for him. Magnus the Tall some called him, others Fighting Magnus; but his usual name was Magnus Barelegs, or Barefoot. He always said that he cared not when or how he died, so long as he lived with glory; his motto was: “Kings should live for glory rather than for grey hairs.” We shall see that he did indeed fall in youth, though rather ingloriously; but that was through no fault of his own.

When he had been nine years in Norway he began to long for the free life of the West. In 1102 he equipped a great fleet to go out of the country, and all the most powerful men in Norway accompanied him. He spent the winter with the King of Connaught, whose daughter had married his son, and they went on fighting raids together, conquering Dublin and a great part of its neighbourhood. Toward the spring both kings went on an expedition into Ulster, raiding and conquering in every direction; and after that Murtough returned home to Connaught, bidding Magnus good-bye, for he thought it was time to go back to his own country. Magnus sent some of his men to defend the property they had won about Dublin, and he himself sailed northward, and lay out to sea with his whole fleet ready to sail. Unfortunately, on inquiry, they found that they were short of provisions, and had not nearly enough for the voyage. Magnus sent a message to Murtough, asking him without delay to send a herd of cattle to him, and telling him that he would wait for them till St. Bartholomew’s Day. But on the eve of that day the cattle had not arrived, and Magnus, impatient to be off, said he would go on shore himself and see if the cattle were coming, or if he could find other herds for food.

The weather was calm, the sun shone, and the road lay through marsh and moss, with tracks cut through them and brushwood at the side of the tracks.

They pushed on till they got to a height whence they could see over all the surrounding country. They noticed in the distance dust rising up from the road as though under the feet of many men advancing toward them. Some said it was the Irish army, others that it was their own men returning with the cattle. They halted awhile, and one of Magnus’s earls said: “What, sire, would you have us do? The men think that we are advancing imprudently, for it is known that the Irish are treacherous. Advise us what we should do.”

The King commanded them to draw up in line, lest there should be treachery, he and Eyvind, his earl, going on first in front of the troop.

The King had a helmet on his head, and a red shield inlaid with a gilded lion, and his sharp sword, Segbit, in his hand. He wore a little short cloak over his shoulder above his coat of mail, embroidered before and behind with a lion in yellow silk, and all men said they had never seen one handsomer or more active than he. Eyvind had also a red cloak like the King.

As the dust-cloud came nearer they saw that it was their own men driving the cattle. The Irish king had been faithful to his friends and had sent the kine. Thereupon they all turned to go back to the ships; but the passage was so miry that they could go but slowly and in single file over the boggy places. As they were making their way thus, suddenly from every side up started the Irish and set upon them. Every mound or bushy point seemed to hold an enemy. Fighting began instantly, but in the order in which they were going, divided into various bands and marching singly on a raised passage of ground, they were a good mark for the Irish, and they kept dropping one by one along the route.

Eyvind said to the King: “This retreat is going to be unfortunate for our people; what counsel shall we give them?”

“Blow the war-horn,” said Magnus, “and bid them form themselves as well as they can into a body with their shields linked closely together, and so retreat backward under cover of their shields; as soon as we get on to firm ground out of this treacherous morass we shall clear ourselves fast enough.”

This was done, but though the Irish fell in crowds under their arrows and spears, two seemed to appear out of the marsh for every one who dropped. At one very difficult and swampy piece of ground where there were few places on which they could stand or pass the Norsemen fell in great numbers. The King called one of his lords and bade him take his men out across a ditch to some points of higher ground and shoot from there, while he and the main body got across the bog. But as soon as ever these Northmen found themselves safe at the other side of the ditch, thinking that they had had enough of it, they made off as fast as they could to the ships, leaving their comrades in the lurch.

“Alas that ever I made thee a great man!” said the King when he saw this; “thou art deserting thy friends and thy King like a coward!”

At the same moment King Magnus was wounded severely by a spear, which passed through both his legs above the knees. Laying hold on the spear-shaft between his legs, the King broke it in two, crying out: “This is how we break spear-shafts, my lads. On with you all! Nothing hurts me.”

But it was not long afterward that, as he stumbled along on his wounded legs, an Irishman came up behind and struck him in the neck with an Irish axe, and that was his death-wound. He fell, and those around him fled. But his man, Vidkun Jonson, smote down the Irishman who had killed his master, and escaped, carrying with him the royal banner, and the King’s sword, Segbit. But he was thrice wounded as he ran. He was the last man who got to the ships alive. Many great people fell with Magnus, but more of the Irish died than of the Norse. Those who got to the ships sailed away at once, and took refuge in the Orkney Islands. Magnus was thirty years old when he fell at Downpatrick, in Ulster. He was beloved by his people, and there was quiet at home in Norway in his days. But the bondes thought him harsh, and they were oppressed by the heavy levies he had to raise for his war-expeditions. He was buried in Ireland. He was so fond of that country that in the last song he made, when his followers were trying to persuade him to leave Ireland and return to his capital of Nidaros (now Drontheim) in Norway, he sang:

But his son, Sigurd Magnusson, called the Jewry-farer, on account of his visit to Jerusalem, although he had married in Ireland, did not think as his father. As soon as he heard of his sire’s death he set off immediately to claim the crown, leaving his Irish wife behind, and he took with him his whole fleet, and never went back again to the West. It is said that he ever held Vidkun Jonson in the most affectionate regard, because he would not fly until he had saved the banner and killed the man who gave Magnus his mortal wound.

The fame of King Magnus never quite died out of Ireland. In old poems he appears warring at the head of a band of men for the conquest of Ireland, and in the “Ballad of King Magnus Barefoot” he is pictured as a being of gigantic proportions and a mighty warrior. Many legends and fairy-tales have Magnus for their hero.