The Tale Of The Lone Norwegian Warrior Who, For A Time, Single-Handedly Held Back King Harold Godwinson’s Forces At Stamford Bridge

With the death of King Edward the Confessor in January, 1066, England was plunged into an epic showdown for the vacated throne. Harold Godwinson, Edward’s brother-in-law, became the Anglo-Saxon champion for England and he was elected to the throne. Foreign claimants, however, would soon arrive from Norway and Normandy in mere months to challenge King Harold Godwinson for the English crown. Of the invaders, the first to arrive was King Harald Hardrada of Norway, an experienced warrior-king who had been a mercenary for the Rus, a Varangian Guardsman in Constantinople, and a Viking raider, before he returned home to become king of Norway around 1045. In September, 1066, Harald Hardrada—with a reported armada of 300 ships—began militarily campaigning in the Northumbria region of England. The Norwegians were aided by Harold Godwinson’s scorned brother, Tostig, and they defeated the Northumbrian regional forces in battle, forcing York to surrender. It was while Harald Hardrada was on this winning streak in the north that King Harold Godwinson pulled together an army and rushed his troops toward York to face the Norwegian threat.

Harold Godwinson’s army moved with such speed that he caught the experienced Norwegian king totally off guard. The Norwegians were divided at the time, with Harald Hardrada and his portion of the army camping near Stamford Bridge (on the River Derwent), while the rest of the army remained at the ships near Ricall and the River Ouse. Most importantly, the Norwegians at the bridge site had reportedly left much of their armor by the ships, as they were not expecting an attack so soon. Therefore, when Harold Godwinson and the Anglo-Saxons fell on the unsuspecting and under-equipped Norwegians camped by Stamford Bridge, the battle turned into a massacre.

While the Scandinavian and English sources disagreed slightly on details of the battle, they both made the same key points—Harald Hardrada and Tostig died in battle and a majority of the Norwegian army was destroyed. According to the Scandinavian tradition, Harald Hardrada’s reserve troops from Ricall made a long and tiring march to Stamford Bridge in hopes of saving their king, yet they were too tired to fight upon arrival. The Anglo-Saxon version (seen as the more accurate account) instead claimed that after Harald Hardrada and Tostig were slain, the Norwegian warriors at Stamford Bridge began a frantic retreat to their ships and reinforcements at Ricall. In both of the scenarios, a single Norwegian warrior was said to have played a major role by making a lone last stand on Stamford Bridge, either (in the English tradition) for covering his comrades’ retreat to the ships or (in the Scandinavian version) by trying to hold the Anglo-Saxons back until the approaching troops from Ricall could arrive.

As the story goes, the unnamed Norwegian warrior was a one-man wrecking crew with near superhuman fighting ability. Buying time for the Norwegian side, the Viking champion took up position at a choke point, reportedly Stamford Bridge itself, and determined to fight to the death. He gave the Anglo-Saxons immense trouble, reportedly besting anyone who came against him in single combat, and he could just as easily deflect or block any arrows shot in his direction. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle described the scene, including the English army’s eventual solution for defeating the mighty warrior: “there was one of the Norwegians who withstood the English folk, so that they could not pass over the bridge or gain the victory. Then an Englishman aimed at him with an arrow, but it availed naught; and then came another under the bridge and pierced him through the corselet” (ASC, entry for 1066). With the Norwegian warrior’s death, the Anglo-Saxons were able to rush across the bridge to finish the battle, either by crashing into the regrouping Norwegians or by pursuing the fleeing invaders all the way to their ships. Whichever way the battle really played out, Harold Godwinson won a decisive victory and let the son of the slain Norwegian king lead the survivors home—they reportedly only needed 24 of their original 300 ships to ferry the remnants of Harald Hardrada’s army away.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Battle of Stamford Bridge painted by Peter Nicolai Arbo  (1831–1892), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018. 
• King Harald’s Saga, by Snorri Sturluson, translated by Magnus Mangusson and Hermann Pálsson. New York: Penguin Books, 1966, 2005. 
• https://www.ancient.eu/article/1306/battle-of-stamford-bridge/ 

The First Scandinavian Reported To Have Seen North America

Two sagas from the 13th century—Eirik the Red’s Saga and the Saga of the Greenlanders—unanimously declare that Leif Eiriksson was the first known Scandinavian to set foot on North America. Despite that acknowledgment, the Saga of the Greenlanders also claimed that at least one other person had seen the New World before Leif made his journey. The person in question was an Icelandic merchant named Bjarni Herjolfsson. Around 986, Bjarni was reportedly seeing to his trade route between Iceland and Norway when he received news that his father, Herjolf, was joining Eirik the Red’s expedition to settle Greenland. By the time Bjarni returned home, his father had already set sail for the new land. This realization disturbed the merchant—perhaps he was worried about his father’s ability to set up a farm alone, or maybe he was simply a filial type of guy who really loved his father. Whatever the case, Bjarni Herjolfsson quickly set back out to sea in order to meet up with his father in Greenland before winter, and he did not even take the time to unload or sell any of the cargo that he brought back from Norway before leaving port.

With his ship overweight and his navigation rushed, Bjarni soon found himself at the mercy of the weather. As the story goes, he was blown off course by storms and then found himself blinded by dense fog. Lost at sea, he continued sailing until finally, at long last, he spotted land. Yet, the sight of the coast perturbed Bjarni, for he had been given a description of his destination before he had set sail, and the lands he saw ahead were in no way Eirik the Red’s misleadingly-named Greenland. What was before him was an entirely different land.

Still eager to reach his father, Bjarni Herjolfsson did not stop to explore on foot, but instead sailed northward along the coast. He watched the geography change as his journey progressed. At first, the country he saw was extremely forested. Tree-covered hills began to give way to wooded flatlands, followed by a region of snow-capped mountains and a glacier on what seemed to be an island. Upon arriving in this more frigid and snowy place, Bjarni and his crew made the fortuitous decision to start sailing back east. Navigating this new route, the lost Icelanders finally reached Greenland, and Bjarni was reunited with Herjolf. Despite seeing plentiful land to the west, Bjarni apparently never attempted to go back to the places he witnessed. He did, however, spread the word in Greenland and similarly told his story in Norway whenever he visited for business.

Leif Eiriksson, according to the Saga of the Greenlanders, was one of the people reportedly captivated by Bjarni Herjolfsson’s tales of land to the west. Eirik the Red’s Saga, however, cuts Bjarni out of the story and instead insists it was Leif who, while returning home from Norway, was blown off course by storms and discovered the New World by accident. Whatever the case, either tipped off by Bjarni Herjolfsson or carried off course by his own fateful storm, Leif was said to have reached North America around the year 1000 and went one step further than Bjarni by actually stepping foot on the land, which he called Vinland.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

• The Vinland Sagas (Saga of the Greenlanders and Eirik the Red’s Saga) translated by Keneva Kunz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/science/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/bjarni-herjolfsson  

The Gamble Of Norway’s King Olaf II For The Island Of Hísing

In 1015, a royal-blooded Viking and mercenary named Olaf Haraldsson (Saint Olaf) launched his bid for power in Norway, intending to end fifteen years of foreign domination over Norwegian land by the Danes and Swedes. The last Norwegian king had been slain in the year 1000 by a coalition consisting of King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark (r. 987-1014), Olaf the Tax-King of Sweden (r. 980-1022), and dissident Norwegian jarls. In the years after that battle, Norway was ruled by jarls who deferred to the Danish and Swedish authority. It was against these foreign-backed Norwegian jarls that Olaf Haraldsson campaigned in 1015, forcing them into exile or submission by 1016. After consolidating power, the upstart ruler proclaimed himself King Olaf II of Norway and began the precarious balancing act of trying to keep foreign influence out of Norway while also striving to enforce his newfound authority over the weariest of his Norwegian chieftains, such as a conspiracy of five minor kings against him that was thwarted in 1017.

Although the Dane, Canute the Great (r. 1016-1035), was on the rise at the same time as King Olaf II of Norway, Canute’s early focus was on England, making Denmark less of a threat to Olaf during his early years. Sweden, on the other hand, gave the fledgling King Olaf II quite a bit of trouble as he tried to establish his authority in Norway. Although the Swedish-aligned jarls had been defeated by 1016, Olaf the Tax-King of Sweden refused to acknowledge the new Norwegian monarch’s authority, and pointedly attempted several times to send tax collectors into Norway. According to the Heimskringla (History of the Kings of Norway) of Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), the Norwegian king or his agents clashed with Swedish tax collectors on at least three instances, and in another incident the Swedes even commandeered a ship laden with goods meant to adorn the throne room of King Olaf II. Such isolated friction and contained harassments continued until 1019, by which time both Olafs, of Norway and Sweden, had tired of their feud. That year, King Olaf II of Norway married the Swedish king’s daughter, Ástrid, and the two monarchs met together to finally settle their differences.

When the monarchs met, the Swedish king reportedly granted, without much debate, recognition of the Norwegian Olaf’s authority over most of what King Harald Finehair (r. 860-940) of Norway had once ruled in the past. The arguments apparently heated up, however, when the two discussed the large Island of Hísing, presumably referring to modern Hisingen, in Sweden. Instead of resuming their hostilities over the issue, the two in-laws reportedly decided to resolve their disagreement through a non-violent competition. According to folklore, they played a game of dice, and the Island of Hísing was the stake.

As the story goes, the game involved throwing two numbered dice (with the highest number being six on each die) and the one that threw the highest sum won the round. Whichever king provided the dice must have brought a loaded pair, for both kings consistently began rolling double-sixes. Snorri Sturluson described the bizarre dicing scene:

“Then the Swedish king threw two sixes and said that it was no use for King Oláf to throw. He replied, while shaking the dice in his hand, ‘There are two sixes still on the dice, and it is a trifling matter for God, my Lord, to have them turn up.’ He threw them, and two sixes turned up. Thereupon Oláf, the king of Sweden, again threw two sixes. Then Oláf, the king of Norway, cast the dice, and one six showed on one of them, but the other split in two, so that six and one turned up” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 94).

Such was the way, according to folklore, that King Olaf II of Norway gained control of the island of Hísing. Snorri Sturluson, for his part, recognized this was a far-fetched story, even for the folklore-riddled sagas which were frequently prone to artistic license. He made sure to distance himself from the story by crediting the tale to a certain Thorstein the Learned.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Hall scene from the saga of Olaf Tryggvason, illustrated by Christian Krohg (1852–1925), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons)

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-II-Haraldsson 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-Tryggvason 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Canute-I 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Sweyn-I  

The Revenge Of Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth Of Orkney Against The Viking, Eyvind Úrarhorn

Eyvind Úrarhorn was a Norwegian man-of-action who supported King Olaf II Haraldsson of Norway (aka St. Olaf, r. 1015-1028) by doing such tasks as hunting down unwanted Vikings in Norwegian waters and forcing out foreign tax collectors who were trying to extort King Olaf’s borderland subjects. In 1018, however, Eyvind Úrarhorn decided to take a break from his domestic duties to go raiding abroad. His Viking expedition brought him to the British Isles, and after some pillaging, Eyvind apparently signed his crew up as mercenaries for a certain King Connor in Ireland. Unfortunately for Eyvind Úrarhorn, the contract with the Irish king brought him into hostile contact with another Viking crew that was skulking around Ireland. In the fall of 1018, Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth of Orkney (r. 1014-1020) appeared in Ireland and clashed with the Irish King Connor. Eyvind Úrarhorn, heeding his mercenary contract, joined the Irish side in the battle and fought against the army from Orkney.

King Connor and Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth met in battle at Lough Larne, in Northern Ireland. According to the accounts of the Orkneyinga Saga and the Heimskringla, King Connor won a great victory that day and forced the jarl of Orkney to retreat. The Orkneyinga Saga, describing the battle from Jarl Einar’s point of view, claimed it was a “crushing defeat with heavy loss of life” (chapter 15). The rebuffed Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth was sorely aware that a band of Norwegian mercenaries had aided King Connor during the battle, and although the jarl may not have known who commanded the mercenaries at the time, he was determined to discover who led the group and to seek revenge. For the meantime, however, Eyvind Úrarhorn enjoyed the victory and spent the rest of the year without any harassment from Orkney.

By the summer of 1019, Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth had learned of Eyvind’s part in the battle at Lough Larne, and he was keeping his agents busy searching for the Norwegian. It was at this inopportune time that Eyvind Úrarhorn decided to return home to Norway. In a curious move, Eyvind made the bold decision to plot his course past Orkney during his return trip. He might have been able to get away with this move if fate had been kinder, but the weather betrayed Eyvind Úrarhorn, forcing his ship to make landfall. Of all the places he could have been driven ashore, Eyvind was unlucky enough to find himself beached at a place called Osmundwall, located in the southern section of the Orkney archipelago.

Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth soon learned about Eyvind Úrarhorn’s presence in Orkney and he quickly mobilized his fleet, eager to exact his revenge. Before Eyvind could set sail, the jarl’s fleet descended on the Norwegian Vikings and caught them by surprise. In the encounter that ensued, there was not much of a battle, and Jarl Einar was allegedly able to take the stranded crew captive without any difficulty. According to both the Orkneyinga Saga and the Heimskringla, Jarl Einar Wry-Mouth used the situation to execute Eyvind Úrarhorn. With the Viking leader’s death, the jarl’s drive for vengeance was sated, and he ultimately let most of Eyvind’s crew return home. When King Olaf II of Norway learned of his friend’s death, he took no official act against Orkney, although he did begin to show public support for Einar’s rivals on the Orkney Islands, especially for Einar’s brother, Jarl Thorfinn the Mighty (r. 1014-1064), who traveled to Norway to meet with King Olaf II in 1020. During that very year, King Olaf II was likely pleased to learn that Einar Wry-Mouth was murdered by one of Jarl Thorfinn’s associates before the end of 1020.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Scenes from the Bayeux Tapestry, [Public Domain] via flickr.com and Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Orkneyinga Saga, written anonymously approximately c. 1200, translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. New York: Penguin Classics, 1981.
• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.  

The Comical Tale About The Ugly Feet Of Thórarin Nefjólfsson

A prominent Icelandic merchant named Thórarin Nefjólfsson happened to be in Túnsberg (now Tønsberg), Norway, at a time when King Olaf II Haraldsson (r. 1015-1028) was residing in the city. Thórarin reportedly was an intelligent, eloquent and candid individual. Yet, unfortunately for the Icelander, he was best known for another quality—ugliness. The Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson (1179-1241) colorfully claimed, “Thórarin was exceedingly ugly, and particularly his limbs. He had big and misshapen hands, but his feet were uglier even by far” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 85). Thórarin Nefjólfsson, for his part, embraced his own ugliness, and was the kind of person who enjoyed poking fun at his own features. Due to his endearing nature, his wealth, and his prominence, Thórarin was invited by King Olaf II to stay with the royal party for a time. The Icelander reportedly even had the honor of sleeping in the same hall as the king, along with other people that the monarch trusted.

As the story goes, one morning while King Olaf II was lying awake in his bed, not yet willing to get up, the king procrastinated by observing the bunks of the people around him, and in doing so, Olaf caught sight of something he thought to be truly grotesque. As the other occupants of the room began to stir, the king directed their attention to the horrific sight, and they all agreed it was one of the worst visual experiences they had ever witnessed. What had caught their attention, of course, was their Icelandic guest, specifically the sight of a single bare foot belonging to Thórarin Nefjolfsson that had popped out from the man’s bed covers during the night. According to Snorri Sturluson, King Olaf mused aloud to his comrades, “I have been awake for a while, and I have seen a sight which seems to me worth seeing, and that is, a man’s foot so ugly that I don’t think there is an uglier one here in this town” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 85).

Thórarin Nefjolfsson soon woke up and realized that everyone in the hall was staring at his foot. King Olaf, with the boldness of a king, and the knowledge that Thórarin was a good sport about his appearance, spoke plainly to the Icelandic merchant and explained that they were all amazed by the ugliness of the man’s foot. Furthermore, according to Snorri Sturluson, King Olaf went on to proclaim, “I rather warrant you that there isn’t an equally ugly foot to be found, and I would even be willing to bet on that” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 85). Hearing this assertion, Thórarin Nefjolfsson took the king up on his bet, and the two set their stakes for the wager. Thórarin Nefjolfsson, if he won, wanted to be officially invited into the king’s retinue, while Olaf’s request was for the Icelander to do a royal errand. With the bets set, Thórarin began planning how to find an uglier foot in the city of Túnsberg.

As the story goes, Thórarin Nefjólfsson did not have to look far for his answer. He did not have to leave the hall, nor even his bunk, for the winning exhibit. With a triumphant flourish, Thórarin popped out his other foot from under the bed covers and displayed it for all to see. His second foot was just as ugly as the first, yet the big toe on this newer foot had been amputated for some reason or other, causing it to be all the more ghastly.

Olaf II was on the verge of losing his bet, and everybody knew it, so the king had to think up a witty response to bring the wager back into his favor. After assessing the Icelander’s second foot, the king proclaimed that the amputated toe was a mercy, as there was one less horrendous digit to look at. According to Snorri Sturluson, the king further explained his reasoning by saying “The first foot is uglier because there are five toes on it, whilst this one has only four” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 85). Thórarin Nefjólfsson did not dispute Olaf’s math and conceded victory to the king. Ultimately, however, both participants in the bet received what they wanted. The Icelander was named a member of King Olaf’s retinue, and Thórarin Nefjólsson completed an errand for the king by transporting an exiled Norwegian to Iceland.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Scene of Thorarin Nefjolfsson and King Olaf II illustrated by Christian Krohg (1852–1925), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.

Saint-King Olaf II And His Victory Over The 5-King Conspiracy

In 1015, Olaf Haraldsson launched his bid for the throne of Norway, killing, exiling, or otherwise forcing into submission the regional jarls who were beholden to other kings of Scandinavia. By 1016, he had brought Norway under his control, becoming King Olaf II, but there were still pockets of resistance among the jarls, petty kings, and chieftains who were uneasy with their new king. Around 1017, King Olaf (also known as Saint Olaf) dramatically clashed with several of these wavering noblemen who did not agree with his efforts to spread Christianity in their domains. The ensuing showdown was recorded in verse by an 11th-century Icelandic skald named Ottar the Black, whose poem was cited by Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241) in his Heimskringla (History of the Kings of Norway), specifically Saint Olaf’s Saga, which is included in that text.

Around 1017, King Olaf II began pressuring the Uppland districts to convert to Christianity. The topic of religion can get heated even in simple conversation, so the tension of the region understandably became quite hostile when King Olaf’s methods of spreading Christianity proved less than cordial. As Snorri Sturluson bluntly described, “if he found anyone who did not want to abandon heathendom, he drove him out of the land. Some he had maimed, having their hands or feet lopped off or their eyes gouged out, others he had hanged or beheaded, but left no one unchastised who refused to serve God” (Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 73). Such heavy-handedness, especially on a topic as sensitive as religion, did nothing to console the noblemen in the region who were still unsure of Olaf’s rule. Shocked by the stories of execution, mutilation and banishment, five petty kings of Uppland decided to work together in a conspiracy against King Olaf II.

Only three of the five conspirators are known to history by name, but all of them were said to have lived around the Lake Mjøsa area. Hrœrek and Gudröd were the most influential of the petty kings, while a certain King Hring and two other petty kings usually deferred to Hrœrek and Gudröd for guidance. As Olaf II ramped up his conversion campaign in the region, the five petty kings decided to meet in order to discuss what course they wanted to take. Although there was some debate, they all chose to launch a violent resistance against King Olaf. Yet, instead of an open rebellion, they decided to orchestrate a more subtle conspiracy, hoping to ambush Olaf II while the king was unaware of their disloyalty. Upon their agreement to conspire against their liege, the five petty kings vowed to remain together in a single camp, lest one of them be tempted to betray the others.

Fully committed, the conspirators started to gather warriors whom they presumed to be loyal to their cause. Each of the five petty kings allegedly pledged to recruit around 300 trustworthy fighters, and therefore, they hoped to obtain a force of at least 1,500 men. Meanwhile, as they slowly mustered their forces, the conspirators sent spies to keep an eye on King Olaf, who, at that time, was reportedly only guarded by a band of between 400 and 500 warriors.

Hrœrek, Gudröd, Hring and their fellow petty kings, however, were not the only ones with eyes and ears on the ground. King Olaf II, too, had a formidable spy network, and, to his fortune, one of his informants was invited to the conspiracy. This man, reportedly named Ketil, quickly relayed news of the conspiracy back to King Olaf, who, upon receiving the tip-off, quickly acted to crush the plot.

As the story goes, King Olaf and his guards stormed off to the nearest shore of Lake Mjøsa. There, they commandeered as many ships as they needed, and then set sail upon nightfall out into the lake. With help from his informant, Olaf knew the exact location where all five of the conspiring kings were camped together—a place called Hringiskar, near Gudbrands Dale. King Olaf reached his target well before dawn, and, after assembling his troops around the compound, he attacked at first light. Catching the conspirators unprepared and off guard, King Olaf’s troops made short work of the would-be rebels. In the fight, all five of the petty kings were captured, and Olaf severely punished the main two ringleaders of the group. King Hrœrek was blinded and forbidden to stray from Olaf’s company. Gudröd, similarly, was mutilated, but his tongue was taken instead of his eyes. Hring and the other two remaining petty kings were reportedly banished from Norway. Despite King Olaf’s victory, the blinded Hœrek would continue to conspire against the king, and Uppland would remain staunchly pagan for several more years.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration by Christian Krohg (1852–1925) for the Heimskringla, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-II-Haraldsson  

The Verbal Reaction Of The Swedish King To Saint Olaf’s Rise In Norway

Saint Olaf (King Olaf II Haraldsson “the Stout”) ended foreign domination of Norway around 1015 by defeating, or forcing into exile, jarls who had sworn fealty (or at least deference) to Sweden and Denmark. Saint Olaf’s ascendance infuriated the king of Sweden, whose influence had been widely felt in Norway before the upstart saint-king asserted Norwegian independence. Such friction caused a multi-year feud between the two monarchs, who, despite their political rivalry, were quite similar—both were Christian rulers in predominantly Norse kingdoms, and they were both named Olaf (Olaf II of Norway and Olaf I of Sweden). Yet, when Saint Olaf of Norway curtailed Swedish influence and tax collection in Norwegian lands, it became understandably difficult for the like-minded monarchs to get along. The taxation issue was especially irksome to the Swedish ruler, as he was known as Olaf I “the Tax King.”

By 1017, Saint Olaf had consolidated his power in Norway, and was able to set his eye on foreign policy. Further infuriating the Swedish king, Saint Olaf reportedly began reaching out to vassals under Sweden’s influence to arrange trade deals and non-aggression pacts. During this time, the Swedish king was said to have been so angry about Saint Olaf’s successes that he banned the Norwegian king’s name from being uttered in his court. According to the Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), whose sources were often the verses of court poets, the Swedish king ordered that his courtiers refer to the pesky Norwegian monarch as “that fat man” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 67).

The two Olafs, however, finally made peace around 1019, and Saint Olaf eventually married the Swedish king’s daughter, Astrid, making the two formerly hostile monarchs in-laws. In contrast to his early reign, Saint Olaf would increasingly rely on his Swedish relations in his later life. When Canute the Great of England and Denmark took over Norway in 1028, Saint Olaf was said to have fled to his wife’s family for shelter, and when Olaf launched his unsuccessful attempt to regain the Norwegian throne in 1030, he was aided by his Swedish brother-in-law, Anund Jakob.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Seated table scene created by Christian Krohg (1852–1925) for the Heimskringla, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-II-Haraldsson 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf  

The Back-And-Forth Heists For Saint Olaf’s Cargo

Around 1015, Saint Olaf (King Olaf II Haraldsson) ended his career as a Viking and mercenary to proclaim himself ruler of Norway. His ascension ended fifteen years of foreign domination in Norway, as prior to Olaf’s appearance, the Norwegian jarls had been paying tribute to Denmark and Sweden. Therefore, Saint Olaf spent his inaugural year forcing the Norwegian jarls into submission or exile, and systematically rooted out foreign tax collectors from his lands. Yet, even after asserting Norway’s independence and gaining the title of king, Saint Olaf ‘s court was missing some final touches. It had been around fifteen years since Norway had last been ruled by its own king, and Olaf found the realm inadequately supplied with regal robes, rare pelts, fine tablecloths, and other such items that any self-respecting monarch might need. In order to obtain these goods, Saint Olaf was said to have partnered with a merchant by the name of Guthleik Gerzki, a prominent trader who knew his way around the Baltic Sea markets.

After forming a contract with Saint Olaf, Guthleik Gerzki set sail around 1016 to procure all the regalia and adornments that the Norwegian monarch desired. His first stop was the island of Gotland, but the merchant soon continued on his way, traveling across the sea and going inland to the trade hub of Holmgard, which is now called Novgorod. There, Guthleik Gerzki was able to find everything on his shopping list, so he began his return trip to Norway on a ship laden with robes, cloth and fur intended for Saint Olaf’s court.

Unfortunately for Guthleik Gerzki, he was living in the Viking Age, and the Baltic Sea was no less dangerous than the English Channel in regards to pirate raids. Furthermore, as Saint Olaf’s ascendance had annoyed the Danish and Swedish monarchs, Vikings were further incentivized to attack Norwegian ships, as they might be rewarded by their kings for damaging Saint Olaf’s interests. With this in mind, a certain Thorgaut Skardi, a Swede of uncertain rank, learned of Saint Olaf’s partnership with the merchant, and when he gathered this information, Thorgaut was determined not to let Guthleik Gerzki return to Norway. Through gossip and spies, Thorgaut was able to track down the merchant and intercepted him in the waters off the mainland of Sweden, presumably near the island of Öland. Guthleik was caught completely off guard by the attack, and he and his crew were quickly overpowered. Without much difficulty, Thorgaut slew Guthleik and stole the expensive cargo that was meant for Saint Olaf. After obtaining this loot, Thorgaut sailed back to Sweden, intending to give the best items of the haul to the Swedish king.

News of Guthleik Gerzki’s death, and the seizure of Saint Olaf’s goods, spread with incredible speed to Norway. The theft particularly infuriated a man named Eyvind Urarhorn, an able supporter of Saint Olaf who had a history of hunting down foreign tax collectors in Norway. As he was skilled at tracking foreign agents, Eyvind took it upon himself to recover his monarch’s stolen cargo. On his own initiative, he was said to have sailed to the island of Öland and there began tracking his prey along the coast of Sweden. As the story goes, Eyvind Urarhorn succeeded in intercepting Thorgaut Skardi before the pirate could reach the Swedish king. Eyvind reportedly killed Thorgaut, reclaimed the stolen cargo for Norway, and brought the merchandise back to Saint Olaf by the fall of 1017, finally uniting the king with his long-delayed royal robes, tablecloths and furs.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Norwegians landing in Iceland, painted by Oscar Wergeland (1844–1910), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.