Erling the Bold

The right wing was commanded by Solve Klofe, under whom were Eric of Hordaland with fifteen ships; Sulke of Rogaland and his brother Sote with thirty ships, as well as Kiotve of Agder, and some others with many ships—all of large size.

The left wing was led by King Hakon of Drontheim, under whom were Roald Ryg and Hadd the Hard, and Thor Haklang, with a good many ships. Solve Klofe laid his ships against King Harald’s left wing, which was under Eindrid, son of Mörnef, and Hakon laid his against King Sigurd of Royer, who led Harald’s right wing. All the chiefs on either side laid their ships according as they were bold or well equipped. When all was ready, they bound the ships together by the stems, and advanced towards each other at the sound of the war-trumpet. But as the fleets were so large, many of the smaller vessels remained loose, and, as it were, went about skirmishing independently. These were laid forward in the fight, according to the courage of their commanders, which was very unequal.

Among these roving warriors were our heroes Erling and Glumm, each in one of his own small cutters, with about forty men.

As soon as the war-blast sounded the men rode forward to the attack, and soon narrowed the small space that lay between the hostile fleets. Then Haldor and the other commanders went down to the sides of their ships, where the men stood so thick that their shields touched all round, and encouraged them to fight well for the freedom of old Norway—to which they replied with loud huzzas. Immediately after the air was darkened with a cloud of arrows, and the fight began.

There were scalds in both fleets at that fight, these afterwards wrote a poem descriptive of it, part of which we now quote:

“With falcon eye and courage bright,Haldor the Fierce prepared for fight;‘Hand up the arms to one and all!’He cries. ‘My men, we’ll win or fall!Sooner than fly, heaped on each other,Each man will fall across his brother!’Thus spake, and through his vessels’ throngHis mighty warship moved along.He ran her gaily to the front,To meet the coming battle’s brunt—Then gave the word the ships to bindAnd shake his banner to the wind.Our oars were stowed, our lances highSwung to and fro athwart the sky.Haldor the Fierce went through the ranks,Drawn up beside the rowers’ banks,Where rows of shields seemed to encloseThe ship’s deck from the boarding foes,Encouraging his chosen crew,He tells his brave lads to stand true,And rows against—while arrows sing—The Dragon of the tyrant King.With glowing hearts and loud huzzas,His men lay on in freedom’s cause.The sea-steeds foam; they plunge and rock:The warriors meet in battle shock;The ring-linked coats of strongest mailCould not withstand the iron hail.The fire of battle raged around;Odin’s steel shirts flew all unbound.The pelting shower of stone and steel,Caused many a Norseman stout to reel,The red blood poured like summer rain;The foam was scarlet on the main;But, all unmoved like oak in wood,Silent and grim fierce Haldor stood,Until his axe could reach the foe—Then—swift he thundered blow on blow.And ever, as his axe came down,It cleft or crushed another crown.Elsewhere the chiefs on either sideFought gallantly above the tide.King Hakon pressed King Sigurd sore,And Ulf made Hake the berserk roar,And Kettle Flatnose dared to springOn board the ship of Norway’s King.Old Guttorm Stoutheart’s mighty shoutAbove the din was heard throughout,And Solve Klofe, ’gainst Mörnef’s son,Slew right and left till day was done.While, all around the loose ships rowed—Where’er they went the red stream flowed.Chief among these was Erling boldAnd Glumm the Gruff, of whom ’tis toldThey rushed in thickest of the fray—Whatever part the line gave way—And twice, and thrice, retrieved the day.But heart, and strength, and courage true,Could not avail where one fought two.King Harald, foremost in the fight,With flashing sword, resistless might,Pushed on and slew, and dyed with redThe bright steel cap on many a head.Against the hero’s shield in vain,The arrow-storm sends forth its rain.The javelins and spear-thrusts failTo pierce his coat of ringèd mail.The King stands on the blood-stained deck;Trampling on many a foeman’s neck;And high above the dinning stoundOf helm and axe, and ringing soundOf blade, and shield, and raven’s cryIs heard the shout of—‘Victory!’”

In this poem the scald gives only an outline of the great fight. Let us follow more closely the action of those in whom we are peculiarly interested.

For more than two hours the battle raged with unabated fury—victory inclining to neither side; but as the day advanced, the energy with which Solve Klofe pushed the right wing began to tell, and the King’s men gave way a little at that part. Harald, however, was on the alert. He sent some of his loose ships to reinforce them, and so regained his position. A short time after that, some of Solve’s ships were boarded, but at that moment Erling and Glumm chanced to pass in their cutters—for they kept always close together—and they gave such a shout, while they turned and pulled to the rescue, that the men, who were wavering, took heart again and drove the foe overboard. Just then the ship on the right of Solve Klofe’s vessel was also boarded by the enemy. Seeing this, Erling called to Glumm that there was need of succour there, and they rowed swiftly to the spot.

“Art thou hard pressed, Solve?” asked Erling, as he ranged up to the stern of his friend’s ship.

Solve was so furious that he could not answer, but pointed to the ship next his, and sprang on the edge of his own, intending to leap into that of the enemy, and get to the forefront. At the same time Eindrid, son of Mörnef, stood up on the high foredeck of his ship with a large stone in his hand. He was a very powerful man, and hurled the stone with such force against Solve’s shield that it battered him down, and he fell back into his own ship much stunned. Seeing this, Erling bade two of his men follow him, leaped into Solve’s ship, and thence into the one where the fight was sharpest. Glumm followed him closely with his long two-handed sword, and these two fought so dreadfully that Eindrid’s men were driven back into their own ship again. Then Erling ran to the place where the high stern was wedged between two of the enemy’s ships, and sprang on the forecastle of Eindrid’s ship.

“Thou art a bold man!” said Eindrid, turning on him.

“That may be as thou sayest,” replied Erling, at the same time catching a thrust on his shield, which he returned with such interest with his axe that Eindrid’s head was nearly severed from his body. At the same moment Glumm cut down a famous berserk who ran at him, and in a few minutes they had cleared the deck of the ship, and taken possession of it. But this was scarcely accomplished when a cry arose that the left wing under King Hakon was giving way.

At once Erling and Glumm ran back to their cutters, and made towards that part of the line, followed by several of the loose ships. Here they found that King Hakon was very hard pressed by Sigurd of Royer, so they pushed in among the ships, and soon Erling’s well-known war-cry was heard, and his tall form was seen sweeping men down before him with his great axe, like a mower cutting grass. Glumm, however, did not keep close to him this time, but made direct for Hakon’s ship, for he remembered that he was Ada’s father, and thought he might do him some service.

As he was coming near he saw Swankie, a famous berserk, fighting furiously on board Hakon’s ship, and roaring, as was the wont of berserkers sometimes, like a wild bull. Hakon’s men had formed a shield-circle round their chief, and were defending him bravely; but the berserk was an uncommonly stout man, very brisk and active, and exceedingly furious, as well as dexterous with his weapons. He slew so many men that the shield-circle was broken, and he made at Hakon just as Glumm leaped into the ship at the stern. King Hakon was a stout man and brave, but he was getting old, and not so active as he used to be. Nevertheless he met Swankie like a man, and dealt him a blow on his helmet which made him stagger. The berserk uttered a fearful roar, and struck at Hakon so fiercely that he split the upper part of his shield and cut open his helmet. Hakon fell, but before he could repeat the blow Glumm was upon him.

“What! is it thou, Swankie?” he cried. “Dog, methought I had killed thee long ago!”

“That is yet to be done,” cried the berserk, leaping upon Glumm with a sweeping blow of his sword. Glumm stooped quickly, and the blow passed over his head; then he fetched a sudden cut at Swankie, and split him down from the neck to the waist, saying, “It is done now, methinks,” as he drew out his sword. Glumm did not go forward, but let his men drive back the foe, while he turned and kneeled beside Hakon.

“Has the dog hurt thee badly?” he asked, raising the old warrior’s head on his knee, and speaking in a voice of almost womanly tenderness.

Hakon made an effort to speak, but for some time was unable to do so, and Glumm held his shield over him to keep off the stones and arrows which fell thickly around them. After a few moments Hakon wiped away the blood which flowed from a deep wound in his forehead, and looked up wildly in Glumm’s face. He tried again to speak, and Glumm, misunderstanding the few words he muttered, said: “Thou art already avenged, King Hakon; Swankie the berserk is dead.”

The dying man made another effort to speak, and was successful.

“That concerns me little, Glumm. Thou lovest Ada, I know. This ring—take it to her, say her father’s last thoughts were of her. Be a good husband, Glumm. The brooch—see.”

“Which?” asked Glumm, looking at several silver brooches with which the old warrior’s armour was fastened—“this one on thy breast?”

“Aye, take it—it was—her mother’s.”

The warrior’s spirit seemed to be relieved when he had said this. He sank down into a state resembling sleep. Once or twice afterwards he opened his eyes and gazed up into the bright sky with a doubtful yet earnest and enquiring gaze. Gradually the breathing became fainter, until it ceased altogether, and Glumm saw that the old man was dead.

Fastening the brooch on his own broad chest, and putting the ring on his finger, Glumm rose, seized his sword, and rushed again into the thick of the fight with tenfold more fury than he had yet displayed, and ere long the danger that threatened the left wing was for the time averted.

Meanwhile in the centre there was an equally uncertain and obstinate conflict—for the chiefs on either side were mighty men of valour. Wherever Old Guttorm’s voice was heard, there victory inclined. Haldor, on the other hand, did not shout, but he laid about him with such wild ferocity that many men quailed at the very sight of him, and wherever he went he was victorious. It was some time before he managed to get alongside of King Harald Fairhair’s ship, but when he did so the fight became sharp in the extreme.

All the men in King Harald’s ship, except the berserks, were clad in coats of ring mail, and wore foreign helmets, and most of them had white shields. Besides, as has been said, each man was celebrated for personal strength and daring, so that none of those who were opposed to them could make head against them. The arrows and spears fell harmless from their shields, casques, and coats of mail, and it was only now and then—as when a shaft happened to enter a man’s eye—that any fell. When Haldor’s forecastle men attacked the berserkers on the high fore deck of the Dragon, the fighting was terrible, for the berserkers all roared aloud and fought with the wild fury of madmen, and so fierce was their onslaught that Haldor’s men were forced at first to give back. But Thorer the Thick guarded himself warily, and being well armed escaped injury for a time. When he saw the berserkers beginning to flag, he leaped forward like a lion, and hewed them down right and left, so that his men drove the enemy back into the Dragon. Some of them slipped on the gun-wales, and so did some of Haldor’s men, all of whom fell into the sea, and a few of them were drowned, while others were killed, but one or two escaped by swimming.

Ulf’s ship was also pretty close to the Dragon, and he wished greatly to board it, but was so hard beset by the ship of Nicolas Skialdvarsson that he could not do so for a long time. Here Kettle Flatnose did prodigies of valour. He stood on the high fore-deck with his favourite weapon, the hook, and therewith pulled a great number of men off the enemy’s deck into the sea. At last he got a footing on their gunwale, dropped his hook, drew his sword, and soon cleared his way aft. Ulf leaped after him, drove the men into the waist, and then the most of them were slain, and lay in heaps one upon another. After that it was not difficult to clear the poop. Skialdvarsson defended it well, but he could not stand before Ulf, who finally cut off his head, and so the ship was won.

This vessel lay alongside that of King Harald; and although the King was fully engaged with Haldor at the time, he observed the conquest of Skialdvarsson by Ulf, and also perceived that Ulf’s men were crowding the side of the vessel, and throwing grappling-irons into his own ship with a view to board it; for there was a space between the ships a little too wide for men to leap. Springing to the side, the King cut the grappling-irons with a sweep of his sword.

“That was well tried,” he said.

“It shall be tried again,” cried Ulf, heaving another iron, which nearly struck the King, but Harald’s sword flashed through the air, and again the iron was cut.

At that moment Kettle Flatnose stepped back a few paces, and with a mighty rush leaped right over the space in all his war gear, and alighted on the Dragon’s deck within a yard of the King. It was a tremendous leap, and so nearly beyond the compass of Kettle’s powers that he was scarcely able to retain his foothold, but stood for a moment on the edge of the vessel with shield and sword upheaved, as he staggered to regain his balance. Thus exposed, he might have easily been slain; but the King, instead of using his sword, stepped forward, and with his left hand pushed the Irishman overboard. The cheer which greeted his daring leap had scarcely ceased to ring when he fell heavily into the sea.

“A goodly man, and a bold attempt,” said the King, with a smile, as he turned to Jarl Rongvold. “’Twould have been a pity to slay him outright. If he can swim he may yet live to fight another battle.”

“True, sire,” replied the jarl, who was looking over the side at the place where Kettle fell; “but methinks he has struck his head on an oar, and will never succeed in swimming towards a friendly hand.”

This indeed seemed to be true; for Kettle lay with his arm over an oar, and his head hanging down in the water, like a dead man. Yet there was life in him, for his fingers moved. Ulf had witnessed all this, and was on the point of attempting to leap across to Harald’s ship when Kettle fell. He paused, and, seeing that his comrade was apparently being drowned, at once dropped sword and shield, and sprang into the sea after him.

At that moment a number of the King’s boldest and best armed men observed that the two ships had drawn a little nearer to each other. In a moment they leaped across the intervening space, took their opponents by surprise, and quickly regained the ship.

While this had been going on at the poop, the fight on the forecastle had raged with extreme fury, for Haldor the Fierce had gained a footing on the Dragon’s deck, and was engaged in mortal combat with Hake the berserk, whom he was slowly but surely driving back. His son Erling the Bold, who observed what was going on, had run his cutter along the stern of his father’s ship, and was hastening to his aid, when King Harald became aware that his men were giving way, and rushed to their support. He went forward raging with anger, and as he ran he picked up a huge stone, which he hurled before him. Haldor was at the moment in the act of fetching a deadly cut at Hake, whom he had disarmed. The stone struck him full in the chest, and he fell backward just as Erling reached his side.

A great cheer arose at this time on the right; for there the wing of the Southland men was broken, and everywhere King Harald’s men were victorious.

“Hold thou them in check, Glumm,” cried Erling to his friend, as he quickly raised his father in his arms and bore him away to his cutter.

Glumm, who had followed his friend like his shadow, sprang forward and engaged Hake, who had recovered his sword, and who found this new enemy little, if at all, less formidable than the other.

Erling placed his father carefully in the cutter.

“Here, Thorer,” he said, “do thou guard my father, and hold thyself and the carles in readiness to push off. The day is lost, I see. I go to slay the King, and will return presently.”

He leaped away as he spoke, and regained the foredeck of the Dragon, where Glumm and his men were still engaged with the berserkers, just as the King came to the front. The instant he saw Erling he leaped upon him with a fierce shout, and shook back his shaggy flaxen locks as a lion might shake his mane. Erling was not a whit behind him in anxiety to meet. He sprang upon him with a crashing blow of his great pole-axe, which rang loudly on the King’s shield, but did him no hurt. They were a well-matched pair. Harald was fully as stout, though not quite so tall as his opponent, whose fine silky hair was almost as bushy as that of the King, though neither so long nor so tangled.

Men drew back and stood aside when they heard the shock and shout of their onset, and suspended the fight around them, while they gazed on in silent awe. For a time it seemed doubtful which was the better man; for the King’s blade whirled incessantly around his head like flashing light, and rang on Erling’s shield, which was ever upraised to meet it. At the same time the axe of our hero, if not so swift in its gyrations, was more tremendous in its action; more than once the King was seen to stagger beneath its thundering blows, and once he was beaten down on one knee. How long this might have lasted it is impossible to tell; but, seeing that the King was likely to get the worst of it, one of his men crept round by the outside of the ship, and coming suddenly up behind Erling, put out his hand and caught him by the leg, causing him to stagger backwards, so that he fell overboard. In falling our hero caught the man by the throat, and both fell into the sea together.

It was seen that Erling dived with his foe and dragged him down as if to force him to perish along with him, and everyone looked for a few moments at the water, expecting to see them rise. Glumm gazed among the rest; and he had leaped down into Haldor’s ship to be ready to lend a hand. But Erling did not rise again. Seeing this, Glumm sprang up with sudden fury and dashed at the enemy, but by this time they had recovered from their surprise, and now poured into the ship in such overwhelming numbers that the men were driven back and slain, or they leaped overboard and trusted to escape by swimming.

Meanwhile Erling the Bold having choked off his antagonist, dived under his father’s ship and came up at the stern of his own cutter, into which he speedily clambered by means of a rope which hung over the side. He found that his father was seated on the poop with his head resting on the gunwale, recovering consciousness slowly, and Thorer was engaged in the difficult task of preventing the men from leaving the vessel to succour their comrades.

“Keep back, men,” cried Erling in a voice which none dared to disobey. “Stay where ye are and get out the oars.—Come, Thorer, follow me with a stout man, and keep them back while I rescue Glumm.”

He jumped into Haldor’s ship, and ran to the fore part of the poop, where Glumm was fighting against overwhelming odds, with the blind desperation of a man who has resolved to sell his life as dearly as he can. Thorer and a tall stout man followed him, and instantly assailed King Harald’s men with such fury that they gave back a little. At the same moment Erling seized Glumm by the neck; almost strangled him; dragged him violently to the stern, and half sprang, half tumbled with him into the cutter, where, despite his frantic struggles to rise, he held him down.

“Now, my brisk lads,” shouted Erling, who was gasping by this time, “come back and jump in! Push off an ell or so. Steady!”

Thorer and the other man heard the shout, and, turning at once, ran to the stern and leaped into the cutter, which was instantly thrust off, so that one or two of their opponents who ventured to jump after them were left floundering in the sea.

By this time King Harald’s victory was complete. Both wings had been beaten for some time, and now the centre had given way—only one or two of the more desperate leaders were still keeping up the fight.

As Erling rowed towards the shore he could see that all the loose vessels of the fleet were flying up the fiord, pursued by a few of the loose vessels of the enemy. But the greater part of both fleets being tied together, could take no part in the chase until they were cut asunder.

“The day is lost, father,” said Erling, as he stood by the steering oar.

“I know it, my son,” replied Haldor, who was now able to sit up and look about him; “Norway is henceforth enthralled.”

He said this in a tone of such deep sadness that Erling forbore to continue the subject.

“They are cutting asunder the fleet,” observed Glumm, who had recovered self-possession, and stood looking back at the scene of the recent conflict; “surely some of them are trying to escape.”

As he spoke, one of the large vessels shot out from among the others, and rowed rapidly away. There was desperate fighting on board of it for a few minutes, and then a number of men were pushed or thrown overboard, and a loud cheer of victory arose.

“Well done, Solve Klofe!” cried Erling with enthusiasm. “That is his shout. I should know it among a thousand. He at least is bent on being free!”

Several of Harald’s ships, which had been also cut loose, immediately gave chase, but Solve’s men pulled so well that they soon left them behind, and hoisting their sail to a light breeze which was blowing just off the mouth of the fiord, soon doubled the point and bore away to the south.

“Is that someone swimming in the water?” asked Erling, pointing as he spoke to an object which moved forward among the débris of oars, portions of clothing, and wreck, which was floating about everywhere.

One of the men at the bow oar stood up, and after a short glance, said that he thought it was a man.

“Look out on the starboard bow. Mind your oars and be ready, someone, to lean over the waist and catch hold of him.”

As he spoke, the cutter ranged up to the object, which appeared to be the dishevelled and blood-bespattered head of a man. He suddenly gave vent to a wild shout—“Come on, thou tyrant! Down with ye, dog—huzza!” At the last shout a pair of arms were swung wildly in the air, and the next moment the man’s voice was stifled in the water as he sank, while another head appeared beside him.

“That is the voice of Kettle Flatnose, or his wraith,” exclaimed Erling; “pull gently, lads; hold water.”

“Why, Ulf, is it thou?”

“Truly,” exclaimed Ulf, grasping the extended hand of Glumm, “I don’t feel quite sure! Haul gently, Glumm. I’ve got Kettle here. Another hand or two. Now then, heave together!”

Several stout men leaned over the side, and, acting in accordance with these instructions, hauled Ulf and Kettle out of the sea; the former in a state of great exhaustion, the latter almost dead, for his last dip had well-nigh choked him.

“It has been a long swim,” said Ulf, sitting down and leaning languidly against the bulwarks, while Glumm and Haldor proceeded to chafe the Irishman into a state of consciousness. “Once or twice I sank under him, for he was very wild when he came to himself, after I got hold of him, and struggled to be up and fight the King; but I held him fast. Yet methought once or twice,” added Ulf, with a smile, “that I had at last got into Valhalla.”

A horn of ale refreshed Ulf, and another of the same was shortly after given to Kettle, by which his wandering faculties were soon restored.

By this time they were drawing near the bay at Ulfstede, and Erling urged on the rowers, for they could see that Harald’s ships were now cast loose, and giving chase to those that endeavoured to escape, while several of the largest, including the Dragon, made direct for the land.