Harald Harðráði is a real person who appears in several historical traditions and languages: the Icelandic Heimskringla; the East Slavic Tale of Bygone Years; the Byzantine Greek Chronographia; the Old English Anglo Saxon Chronicle; the Church Latin Deeds of the Bishops of Hamburg. This is his story, as told by the people who knew him.
-- Ram Sadasiv
It all started with a woman, because, of course it did. Olof of Sweden had a daughter of marriageable age, Ingegerd. My half-brother Olaf wooed her, but instead of giving Ingegerd to Olaf, Olof gave her to another suitor, Yaroslav, along with Olof’s Swedish dominions in Rus'. This alienated Olaf, but eventually Olaf accepted Olof’s younger daughter Astrid, along with some empty promises about future political arrangements, and declared himself satisfied.
So Olaf and Yaroslav were allies but … it was awkward.
When Olaf Haraldson grew up he was not tall, but middle-sized in height, although very thick, and of good strength. He had light brown hair, and a broad face, which was white and red. He had particularly fine eyes, which were beautiful and piercing, so that one was afraid to look him in the face when he was angry. Olaf was very expert in all bodily exercises, understood well to handle his bow, and was distinguished particularly in throwing his spear by hand: he was a great swimmer, and very handy, and very exact and knowing in all kinds of smithwork, whether he himself or others made the thing. He was distinct and acute in conversation, and was soon perfect in understanding and strength. He was beloved by his friends and acquaintances, eager in his amusements, and one who always liked to be the first, as it was suitable he should be from his birth and dignity. He was called Olaf the Great.
Yaroslav wiped away his tears, and informed his subjects in the assembly that his father was dead, and that Svyatopolk had settled in Kiev after killing his brethren. Then the men of Novgorod said, “We can still fight for you, oh Prince, even though our brethren are slain.” So Yaroslav collected one thousand Varangians and forty thousand other soldiers, and marched against Svyatopolk.
Now it was already beginning to freeze. Svyatopolk was stationed between two lakes, and caroused with his fellows the whole night through. Yaroslav on the morrow marshaled his troops, and crossed over toward dawn. His forces disembarked on the shore, and pushed the boats out from the bank. The two armies advanced to the attack, and met upon the field. The carnage was terrible. Because of the lake, the Pechenegs could bring no aid, and Yaroslav's troops drove Svyatopolk with his followers toward it. When the latter went out upon the ice, it broke under them, and Yaroslav began to win the upper hand. Svyatopolk then fled among the Lyakhs, while Yaroslav established himself in Kiev upon the throne of his father and his grandfather. Yaroslav had then been in Novgorod twenty-eight years.
The poet Sigvatr came to Jarl Rǫgnvaldr’s and stayed there with good entertainment for a long time. Then he learned from letters sent by the king’s daughter Ingigerðr that messengers of King Jarizleifr had come from the east from Hólmgarðr to King Ólofr of the Svíar to ask for the hand of the king’s daughter Ingigerðr on behalf of Jarizleifr, and this too, that King Ólofr had received this very favourably. Then there also came to Jarl Rǫgnvaldr’s court King Ólofr’s daughter Ástríðr. Then there was held a great banquet there. Then a great deal was discussed. Jarl Rǫgnvaldr asked whether King Óláfr would be willing to marry Ástríðr.
“And if he is willing,” he says, “then I suppose that about this match we shall not enquire of the king of the Svíar.”
The king’s daughter Ástríðr said the same thing.
So there you have it, my two most significant father figures; my half-brother and predecessor as King, and my future father-in-law and source of my wealth. Olaf was geographically and genetically closer, so he was the more influential early on.
Olaf was a good Viking: he fought, plundered, and ruled for 15 years as King of Norway, but he was baptized on one of his trips to Normandy and he became filled with a missionary zeal that he imposed on the local farmers with a heavy hand. Cnut and pagan nobles conspired with the bondsmen to drive out Olaf. Olaf fled to the east and stayed in Rus' two winters.
King Olaf punished great and small with equal severity, which appeared to the chief people of the country too severe; and animosity rose to the highest when they lost relatives by the king's just sentence, although they were in reality guilty. This was the origin of the hostility of the great men of the country to King Olaf, that they could not bear his just judgments. He again would rather renounce his dignity than omit righteous judgment. The accusation against him, of being stingy with his money, was not just, for he was a most generous man towards his friends; but that alone was the cause of the discontent raised against him, that he appeared hard and severe in his retributions. Besides, King Canute offered great sums of money, and the great chiefs were corrupted by this, and by his offering them greater dignities than they had possessed before.
This year went King Knute to Denmark with a fleet to the holm by the holy river; where against him came Ulf and Eglaf, with a very large force both by land and sea, from Sweden. There were very many men lost on the side of King Knute, both of Danish and English; and the Swedes had possession of the field of battle.
It
is to be related of King Olaf's journey, that he went first from Norway
eastward through Eid forest to Vermaland, then to Vatnsby, and through the
forests in which there are roads, until he came out in Nerike district. There
dwelt a rich and powerful man in that part called Sigtryg, who had a son, Ivar,
who afterwards became a distinguished person. Olaf stayed with Sigtryg all
spring; and when summer came he made ready for a journey, procured a ship for
himself, and without stopping went on to Russia to King Jarizleifr, and his
queen Ingegerd.
I was but a boy when I left home. I thought I was a man, but I was 15 years old, so what did I know. I lived in Ringerike, the fertile river valleys that empty in to Oslofjord. We farmed; oats, barley, hay for the animals, vegetable garden of cabbage, kale, and carrots. When the salmon were running we would spread our nets across the mouth of the river, haul them back, full of fish, to be sliced open, gutted, and hung out to dry. When the caribou came we hunted them in the hills. The rest of the time we did chores and told ourselves tales of gods and heroes to keep the boredom at bay. When the broken war arrow arrived announcing Olaf’s return I collected all the youth of the village, we armed ourselves with field axes and whatever would pass for a sword, and we went down to Olsofjord, to join up with Olaf and reclaim the kingdom of Norway.
We left the Oslofjord and marched through Sweden, over the mountains, and into the hills above Trondheim, looking down at our enemies in the valley below.
The battle cry of Olaf's men was:
“Fram! Fram! Kristmenn, krossmenn, kongsmenn!”
“Fight, Fight, Christians, Crossmen, Kingsmen!”
The cry of the opposing army was:
“Fram! Fram! Bonder!”
“Fight, Fight, Farmers!”
You can guess whose war cry was more effective – even the troops on our side identified as farmers before they identified as Christians, and they fought accordingly. The lines broke, Olaf was slain, and the troops that could ran off into the woods.
My friends and I made our way back to Sweden. We took over a farmhouse for the winter and by summer we were sailing to Novgorod in the Rus'. Yaroslav welcomed us warmly and then dispatched us into the field to help him suppress one of the local rebellions that were endemic to his kingdom.
While Yaroslav was still at Novgorod, news came to him that the Pechenegs were besieging Kiev. He then collected a large army of Varangians and Slavs, returned to Kiev, and entered his city. The Pechenegs were innumerable. Yaroslav made a sally from the city and marshalled his forces, placing the Varangians in ·the centre, the men of Kiev on the right flank, and the men of Novgorod on the left. When they had taken position before the city, the Pechenegs advanced, and they met on the spot where the metropolitan church of St. Sophia now stands. At that time, as a matter of fact, there were fields outside the city. The combat was fierce, but toward evening Yaroslav with difficulty won the upper hand. The Pechenegs fled in various directions, but as they did not know in what quarter to flee, they were drowned, some in the Setoml', some in other streams, while the remnant of them disappeared from that day to this.
Yaroslav was a master bullshitter.
“Harald, you have a unique talent. I am truly grateful for the help you gave me against the Pechenegs. To show my appreciation I have traded you and all of your companions to Byzantium in lieu of my annual tribute to the empire.”
He equipped us with a fleet of refurbished dugout canoes, pointed us south down the Dnieper, and wished us great success in our future endeavors.
The monoxyla which come down from outer Russia to Constantinople are from Novgorod, where Sviatoslav, son of Igor, prince of Russia, had his seat, and others from the city of Smolensk and from Teliutza and Chernigov and from Vyshegrad. All these come down the river Dnieper, and are collected together at the city of Kiev, also called Sambatas. Their Slav tributaries, the so-called Krivichians and the Lenzanenes and the rest of the Slavonic regions, cut the monoxyla on their mountains in time of winter, and when they have prepared them, as spring approaches, and the ice melts, they bring them on to the neighbouring lakes. And since these lakes debouch into the river Dnieper, they enter thence on to this same river, and come down to Kiev, and draw the ships along to be finished and sell them to the Russians.
The Russians buy these bottoms only, furnishing them with oars and rowlocks and other tackle from their old monoxyla, which they dismantle; and so they fit them out. And in the month of June they move off down the river Dnieper and come to Vitichev, which is a tributary city of the Russians, and there they gather during two or three days; and when all the monoxyla are collected together, then they set out, and come down the said Dnieper river.
And first they come to the first barrage, called Essoupi, which means in Russian and Slavonic “Do not sleep!”; the barrage itself is as narrow as the width of the Polo-ground; in the middle of it are rooted high rocks, which stand out like islands. Against these, then, comes the water and wells up and dashes down over the other side, with a mighty and terrific din. Therefore the Russians do not venture to pass between them, but put in to the bank hard by, disembarking the men on to dry land leaving the rest of the goods on board the monoxyla; they then strip and, feeling with their feet to avoid striking on a rock. This they do, some at the prow, some amidships, while others again, in the stern, punt with poles; and with all this careful procedure they pass this first barrage, edging round under the river-bank.
When they have passed this barrage, they re-embark the others from the dry land and sail away, and come down to the second barrage, called in Russian Oulvorsi, and in Slavonic Ostrovouniprach, which means “the Island of the Barrage”. This one is like the first, awkward and not to be passed through. Once again they disembark the men and convey the monoxyla past, as on the first occasion. Similarly they pass the third barrage also, called Gelandri, which means in Slavonic “Noise of the Barrage”, and then the fourth barrage, the big one, called in Russian Aeifor, and in Slavonic Neasit, because the pelicans nest in the stones of the barrage. At this barrage all put into land prow foremost, and those who are deputed to keep the watch with them get out, and off they go, these men, and keep vigilant watch for the Pechenegs. The remainder, taking up the goods which they have on board the monoxyla, conduct the slaves in their chains past by land, six miles, until they are through the barrage. Then, partly dragging their monoxyla, partly portaging them on their shoulders, they convey them to the far side of the barrage; and then, putting them on the river and loading up their baggage, they embark themselves, and again sail off in them.
When they come to the fifth barrage, called in Russian Varouforos, and in Slavonic Voulniprach, because it forms a large lake, they again convey their monoxyla through at the edges of the river, as at the first and second barrages, and arrive at the sixth barrage, called in Russian Leanti, and in Slavonic Veroutzi, that is “the Boiling of the Water”, and this too they pass similarly. And thence they sail away to the seventh barrage, called in Russian Stroukoun, and in Slavonic Naprezi, which means 'Little Barrage'. This they pass at the so-called ford of Vrar, where the Chersonites cross over from Russia and the Pechenegs to Cherson; which ford is as wide as the Hippodrome, and, measured upstream from the bottom as far as the rocks break surface, a bow-shot in length.
It is at this point, therefore, that the Pechenegs come down and attack the Russians. After traversing this place, they reach the island called St. Gregory, on which island they perform their sacrifices because a gigantic oak-tree stands there; and they sacrifice live cocks. Arrows, too, they peg in round about, and others bread and meat, or something of whatever each may have, as is their custom. They also throw lots regarding the cocks, whether to slaughter them, or to eat them as well, or to leave them alive.
From this island onwards the Russians do not fear the Pecheneg until they reach the river Selinas. So then they start off thence and sail for four days, until they reach the lake which forms the mouth of the river, on which is the island of St. Aitherios. Arrived at this island, they rest themselves there for two or three days. And they re-equip their monoxyla with such tackle as is needed, sails and masts and rudders, which they bring with them. Since this lake is the mouth of this river, as has been said, and carries on down to the sea, and the island of St. Aitherios lies on the sea, they come thence to the Dniester river, and having got safely there they rest again.
But when the weather is propitious, they put to sea and come to the river called Aspros, and after resting there too in like manner, they again set out and come to the Selinas, to the so-called branch of the Danube river. And until they are past the river Selinas, the Pechenegs keep pace with them. And if it happens that the sea casts a monoxylon on shore, they all put in to land, in order to present a united opposition to the Pechenegs. But after the Selinas they fear nobody, but, entering the territory of Bulgaria, they come to the mouth of the Danube. From the Danube they proceed to the Konopas, and from the Konopas to Constantia, and from Constantia to the river of Varna, and from Varna they come to the river Ditzina, all of which are Bulgarian territory. From the Ditzina they reach the district of Mesembria, and there at last their voyage, fraught with such travail and terror, such difficulty and danger, is at an end.
The severe manner of life of these same Russians in winter-time is as follows. When the month of November begins, their chiefs together with all the Russians at once leave Kiev and go off on the poliudia, which means “rounds”, that is, to the Slavonic regions of the Vervians and Drugovichians and Krivichians and Severians and the rest of the Slavs who are tributaries of the Russians. There they are maintained throughout the winter, but then once more, starting from the month of April, when the ice of the Dnieper river melts, they come back to Kiev. They then pick up their monoxyla, as has been said above, and fit them out, and come down to Romania.
Along
the shore the cool shower
shoved
the black prow of the warship
strongly,
and the shielded vessels
splendidly
bore their tackle
The
mighty prince saw Mikligarðr’s
metal
roofs before the forestem.
Many
fair-sided ships headed
to
the high city rampart.
At that time the Greek empire was ruled by the Empress Zoe the Great, and with her Michael Catalactus. Now when Harald came to Constantinople he presented himself to the empress, and went into her pay; and immediately, in autumn, went on board the galleys manned with troops which went out to the Greek sea. Harald had his own men along with him. Now Harald had been but a short time in the army before all the Varings flocked to him, and they all joined together when there was a battle. It thus came to pass that Harald was made chief of the Varings.
I showed up in Byzantium, introduced myself to the empress; she put me in the Varangian Guard and I fucked her that night. Zoë Porphyrogenita – born to the purple. Fifty years old, didn’t look a day over forty five, liked to fuck and needed a son by any means necessary. Dangerous, no doubt: her second husband murdered her first husband, she conspired with her second husband’s brother to murder her second husband, and she paid me kill her adopted son who was also the nephew of her second husband and her second husband’s brother. One hell of a woman.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Varangian_Guard
The Varangian Guard (Greek: Τάγμα τῶν Βαράγγων, Tágma tōn Varángōn) was an elite unit of the Byzantine Army from the tenth to the fourteenth century. The members served as personal bodyguards to the Byzantine emperors. The Varangian Guard was known for being primarily composed of recruits from northern Europe, including mainly Norsemen from Scandinavia but also Anglo-Saxons from England.
The Norse Varangian guardsmen were recognized by long hair, a red ruby set in the left ear and ornamented dragons sewn on their chainmail shirts
The Varangians relied on the broad-bladed Dane axe as their main weapon, although they were often also skilled swordsmen or archers. The guard was stationed primarily around Constantinople, and may have been barracked in the Bucoleon palace complex.
The Varangians, too, who carried their axes on their shoulders, regarded their loyalty to the Emperors and their protection of the imperial persons as a pledge and ancestral tradition, handed down from father to son, which they keep inviolate and will certainly not listen to even the slightest word about treachery.
The loyalty of the Varangians became a trope of Byzantine writers. Writing about her father Alexius's seizing of the Imperial throne in 1081, Anna Komnene notes that he was advised not to attack the Varangians who still guarded the Emperor Nikephoros for the Varangians “regard loyalty to the emperors and the protection of their persons as a family tradition, a kind of sacred trust”. This allegiance, she noted, “they preserve inviolate, and will never brook the slighted hint of betrayal”. Unlike the native Byzantine guards so mistrusted by Basil II, the Varangian guards' loyalties lay with the position of Emperor, not the man who sat on the throne. This was made clear in 969 when the guards failed to avenge the death by assassination of Emperor Nikephoros II. A servant had managed to call for the guards while the Emperor was being attacked, but when they arrived he was dead. They immediately knelt before John Tzimiskes, Nikephoros' murderer and hailed him as Emperor. “Alive they would have defended him to the last breath: dead there was no point in avenging him. They had a new master now.”
Harald had been three times in the poluta-svarf while he was in Constantinople. It is the custom, namely, there, that every time one of the Greek emperors dies, the Varings are allowed poluta-svarf; that is, they may go through all the emperor's palaces where his treasures are and each may take and keep what he can lay hold of while he is going through them.
Michael the Paphlagonian, the Emperor’s personal servant, came out of the bath, soaking wet:
“The Emperor is dead.”
“Long live the emperor.”
“For your loyalty, take whatever you like from the dead Emperor’s chambers.”
The date was 12 April 1034 (Good Friday). The emperor was over sixty years of age.
The funeral ceremony for the defunct Romanus, who had been laid out on a magnificent bier, was already prepared, and the whole assembly went out to pay their respects to their dead emperor in the usual fashion. One of those who preceded this bier was John the Eunuch, whom I will discuss at the appropriate point in my history. I saw this funeral procession myself. I had not yet grown a beard and only recently had I applied myself to the study of the poets. Examining the dead man, I did not really recognize him, either from his colour or outward appearance. It was only because of the insignia that I guessed the dead man had once been emperor. His face was completely altered, not wasted away, but swollen, and its colour was altogether changed.
I fought in Sicily. Everyone hated George Manaikes. We landed in Syracuse – beautiful harbor. The east part of the island was Greek; the Arabs held the south part and some Normans had landed on the west part. We allied with the Normans and defeated the Arabs, but then Manaikes pissed off the Normans so much they deserted and decided to take the island over for themselves, and the Varangian Guard decided it was time to sail back to Byzantium.
I have seen this man myself, and I wondered at him, for nature had bestowed on him all the attributes of a man destined to command. He stood ten feet high and men who saw him had to look up as if at a hill or the summit of a mountain. There was nothing soft or agreeable abort the appearance of Maniaces. As a matter of fact, he was more like a fiery whirlwind, with a voice of thunder and hands strong enough to make walls totter and shake gates of brass. He had the quick movement of a lion and the scowl on his face was terrible to behold. Everything else about the man was in harmony with these traits and just what you would expect. Rumour exaggerated his appearance and the barbarians, to a man, lived in dread of him.
In Sicily, Messina was the only city now in Byzantine hands. George Manaikes, assisted by a regiment of Varangian and the legendary Scandinavian warrior king Harald Hardrada, smashed his way from one insurgent town to the next in a fury of destruction, leaving a church trail of smoking ruins and mutilated corpses in his wake. Men and women, monks and nuns, the aged and the children - none was spared: some were hanged, some beheaded, many (particularly the children) were burned alive.
Now when Harald came to Sicily he harried there and with his army laid siege to a great and populous fortified city. He surrounded the place, because it had strong walls, so that it seemed unlikely that he could break them down. The townspeople had sufficient victuals and other things required to resist a siege. Then Harald hit upon this stratagem: he let his fowlers catch little birds which had their nests in the city and tie plane shavings of resinous pine soaked with molten wax and sulphur on their backs, to which he set fire. When liberated, all the birds at once flew into the city to seek their young and the nests they had under the thatches of reed or straw. And then the fire spread from the birds to the house-thatches; and though each single one carried but little fire, it soon grew to a conflagration, since many birds carried it all about the thatches of the city; and soon one house after the other began to burn till the whole city was aflame.
There’s a conniving eunuch, because, of course there is. He preferred John the Orphanotrophos (Guardian of the Orphans) because, really, isn’t it all about the children? In his monks attire he would have been the perfect civil servant, except for his extreme personal greed.
It is my desire in this history to give a somewhat fuller description of John, without recourse to empty or lying statements. You see, when I was starting to grow a beard, I saw the man himself, and I heard him speak and witnessed his actions. I marked his disposition closely, and I am aware that although some of his deeds are praiseworthy, there are other things in his life which cannot meet with general approval. At that time there were many sides to his character. He had a ready wit, and if ever a man was shrewd, he was; the piercing glance of his eyes betrayed those qualities. He paid meticulous care to his duties; in fact, he went to extremes of industry in their performance. His experience in all branches of government was great, but it was in the administration of public finance that his wisdom and shrewdness were especially evident.
…
A desire on his part to achieve greater magnificence, and to manage the affairs of state in a manner more befitting an emperor, was thwarted by his own natural habits, for, to tell the truth, he never succeeded in ridding himself of his inveterate greed.
…
The demands of flattery having been satisfied, John without more ado took the first step in his master plan.
He was greedy for many things: wine, debauchery, money, information, secrets, knowledge, but above all power; access to power, influencing power, wielding power, holding power.
It has often been a cause of surprise to me, when I have sat with him at banquets, to observe how a man, a slave to drink and given to ribaldry, as he was, could bear the burden of Empire. In his cups he would carefully watch how each of his fellows behaved. Afterwards, as if he had caught them red-handed, he would submit them to questioning and examine what they had said and done in their drunken moments. They came to fear him more, therefore, when he was tipsy than when he was sober. Indeed, the fellow was an extraordinary mixture. For a long time he had garbed himself in a monkish monkish habit, but not even in his dreams did he care one jot for the decent behaviour that befits such a dress. Yet he acted the part, if long-established custom demanded a certain ritual. As for those libertines who indulged unrestrainedly in sensual pleasures, John had nothing but scorn for them. On the other hand, if a man chose to live in a decent way, or pass his time in the free exercise of virtue, or profit his mind with scientific studies, he would find in John an implacable foe. The eunuch would wilfully misrepresent the other’s worthy ambitions in some way or other. This paradoxical conduct in his dealings with other men was not repeated when he had to do with the emperor, his brother, for with Michael he preserved one and the same attitude, never varying, never changing. In his presence there was no dissimulation at any time.
…
The emperor agreed that the plan was a good one, and when they informed Zoe of the scheme, they found it a very simple matter to convince her. So at once they proceeded to put it into practice. An announcement was made about the public ceremony, and all the dignitaries were gathered together in the church at Blachernae.
…
Accordingly John set sail. The emperor, meanwhile, watched the sea from a high vantage-point in the palace, and when the ship carrying his uncle was about to anchor in the Great Harbour, he gave a signal from above to the sailors, as they were putting in, to turn about. Actually, this signal had been arranged beforehand. A second trireme, ready to put to sea and in the wake of the first, then hailed John’s ship, took him on board, and carried him off to a distant place of exile.
Harald
That was my ship. In the end I blinded
him and imprisoned him in the Monobatae monastery.
The Guardian of the Orphans was banished to the monastery of Monobatae.
John was blinded in prison on the orders of Michael Cerularius the Patriarch who never forgave him for his own imprisonment during the reign of Michael IV. The date was 1043.
Zoe insisted. She was very convincing.
As I have said, the people revolted against the tyrant, but they were afraid their efforts might be wasted. His force might get the better of them and the affair might develop into nothing more than an uproar. Since, therefore, they could not lay hands on the senior empress — the tyrant had anticipated that move and he was watching her with all the vigilance of a tax-gatherer waiting to collect dues from a ship in harbour — they turned their attention to her sister. She was, after all, the second child of an emperor
…
Boldly they dragged her from the sanctuary, brought her out into the open, and clothed her in a magnificent robe. Then they made her sit on a horse, and forming a circle all about her, they led her to the great church of Santa Sophia. Homage was paid to her, not now by a mere fraction of the people, but by all the elite as well.
The guard commander was one of the nobles and I myself accompanied him (I was a personal friend of the man). Actually, he had invited me to advise him and help in the carrying out of his orders. On our arrival at the doors of the church, we saw another guard, composed of volunteers, a company of citizens who had completely surrounded the sacred building. They were ready to do everything but tear it down. So it was not without difficulty that we made our way into the church. Along with us a great multitude of folk poured in, roaring abuse at the accursed fellow. All manner of indecent epithets were hurled at him.
Up till then I too had gone along with the mob with no particularly moderate feelings about him. I was not indifferent to his treatment of the empress, and a certain mild resentment against the man stirred me on my own account. But when I reached the sacred altar where he was, and saw both the refugees, one, who had been an emperor, clinging to the actual Holy Table of the Word, the other, the Nobilissimus, standing on the right of the altar, both with their clothes changed, their spirit gone and utterly put to shame, then there was no trace whatever of anger left in my heart. I stood there dumbfounded, mute with astonishment, as though I had been struck by a hurricane. I was transformed at the strangeness of the thing. Then, recovering my spirits, I began to curse this life of ours, in which these strange and terrible things so often come to pass, and as if some spring had welled up within me, a flood of tears beyond control poured from my eyes. This outburst finally gave way to groans.
Now the mob that had entered the church gathered in a circle round the two men, like wild beasts longing to devour them, while I was standing by the latticed gate on the right of the altar, lamenting.
I was in the mob. We dragged them out of the holy sepulcher and into the street.
The Nobilissimus quietly looked round for the man to whom the miserable job had been entrusted. “You there,” he said, “please make the people stand back. Then you will see how bravely I bear my calamity!” When the executioner tried to tie him down, to prevent him moving at the moment of blinding, he said, “Look you. If you see me budge, nail me down!” With these words he lay flat on his back on the ground. There was no change of colour in his face, no crying out, no groaning. It was hard to believe the man was still alive. His eyes were then gouged, one after the other. Meanwhile the emperor, seeing in the other’s suffering the fate that was about to overtake him too, lived through Constantine’s anguish in himself, beating his hands together, smiting his face and bellowing in agony.
The Nobilissimus, his eyes gouged out, stood up from the ground and leaned for support on one of his most intimate friends. He addressed those who came up to him with great courage — a man who rose superior to the trials that beset him, to whom death was as nothing. With Michael it was different, for when the executioner saw him flinch away and lowering himself to base entreaty he bound him securely. He held him down with considerable force, to stop the violent twitching when he was undergoing his punishment. After his eyes, too, had been blinded, the insolence of the mob, so marked before, died away, and with it their fury against these men.
In these two drápas in honor of Harald, and in many other poems about him, it is mentioned that Harald put out the eyes of the very emperor of the Greeks. They might have named a duke or count or some other man of princely rank as having done it if they knew that to be more true. But Harald himself told this story, as did the other men who were with him there.
We departed in full force to find Theodora. Astounded by the unexpectedness of this sight, she refused at first to give way to their pleading and shut herself up in the church, deaf to every entreaty. The citizen army, however, giving up all hope of persuasion, used force, and some of their number, drawing their daggers, rushed in as if to kill her.
It was to me that Theodora pleaded at the Büyükada Convent. Her pleading was no use, the mob would accept nothing less than a Porphygenitus to parade back to the palace.
Listening to her deny the responsibilities of her birth was when I knew I needed to fulfill my destiny and become King of Norway.
It was time to leave Byzantium. I’d fucked the empress, blinded the emperor; if I stayed there weren’t many realistic scenarios where I would be able to follow the example of Zoe’s father and die in my own bed.
The same night King Harald and his men went down to where the galleys of the Varings lay, took two of them and rowed out into Sjavid sound. When they came to the place where the iron chain is drawn across the sound, Harald told his men to stretch out at their oars in both galleys; but the men who were not rowing to run all to the stern of the galley, each with his luggage in his hand. The galleys thus ran up and lay on the iron chain. As soon as they stood fast on it, and would advance no farther, Harald ordered all the men to run forward into the bow. Then the galley, in which Harald was, balanced forwards and swung down over the chain; but the other, which remained fast athwart the chain, split in two, by which many men were lost; but some were taken up out of the sound. Thus Harald escaped out of Constantinople and sailed thence into the Black Sea.
Yaroslav sent his son Vladimir to attack Greece, and entrusted him with a large force. He assigned the command to Vyshata, father of Yan. Vladimir set out by ship, arrived at the Danube, and proceeded toward Tsar'grad. A great storm arose which broke up the ships of the Russes; the wind damaged even the Prince's vessel, and Ivan, son of Tvorimir, Yaroslav's general, took the Prince into his boat. The other soldiers of Vladimir to the number of six thousand were cast on shore, and desired to return to Rus', but none of the Prince's retainers went with them. Then Vyshata announced that he would accompany them, and disembarked from his vessel to join them, exclaiming, “If I survive, it will be with the soldiers, and if I perish, it will be with the Prince's retainers.” They thus set out to return to Rus'. It now became known to the Greeks how the Russes had suffered from the storm, and the Emperor, who was called Monomakh, sent fourteen ships to pursue them. When Vladimir and his retainers perceived that the Greeks were pursuing them, he wheeled about, dispersed the Greek ships, and returned to Rus' on his ships. But the Greeks captured Vyshata, in company with those who had been cast on land, and brought them to Tsar'grad, where they blinded many of the captive Russes.
Having escaped detection, they had already got inside the Propontis when they made their first proposals for peace, conditional on the payment of an enormous sum for reparations. They mentioned the actual amount, a thousand staters for each ship, on the understanding that this money should be counted out to them in one way only — on one of the ships in their own fleet. Such were the proposals they put forward, either because they imagined that there were springs of gold in our domains, or simply because they had decided to fight in any case. The terms were impossible, purposely so, in order that they could have a plausible excuse for going to war. So, as their envoys were not even considered worthy of an answer, both sides prepared for combat. The enemy were so confident in their own overwhelming numbers that they thought the city, with all its inhabitants, would surrender.
At the time our naval forces were below strength and the fireships were scattered at various naval stations, some here and some there, on guard duty. The emperor therefore gathered together some hulks of the old fleet and strengthened them with new thwarts, added some transport vessels used in the imperial service, and got ready for sea a few triremes, on which he embarked a certain number of fighting men. After a generous supply of Greek fire had been put aboard these ships, he ranged them in the opposite harbour to face the Russian vessels. He himself, with a picked body of senators, spent the night at anchor in the actual harbour, not far from the shore. A clear declaration of war at sea was made to the barbarians by a herald, and when day broke Constantine set his fleet in battle array. The enemy also put to sea from the port on the other side. They sailed out as if they were leaving a military camp, complete with fortified rampart. When they were well out from the land, they arranged all their ships in line, so that they formed a continuous chain stretching across the water from the harbour on one side to the harbour on the other. They were now ready to attack us, or, if we made the first assault, to repel us. It was a sight that produced the most alarming effect on every man who saw it. For my own part, I was standing at the emperor’s side. He was seated on a hill which sloped gently down to the sea, watching the engagement from a distance.
Such then was the order of battle on their side and ours. No attempt was made to join combat, however, for each fleet remained motionless, with line intact. A considerable part of the day had already passed, when the emperor signalled two of our big ships to advance slowly on the enemy. They sailed forward line abreast, moving beautifully, with the pikemen and stone-throwers cheering aloft and the hurlers of Greek fire standing by in good order ready to shoot. At this, several of the Russian vessels left their line and bore down on our ships at full speed. Then, dividing in two, they circled round each of the triremes and hemmed them in, while they tried to hole them below deck with long poles. Our men, meanwhile, engaged them with stones from above and fought them off with their cutlasses. Greek fire, too, was hurled at them, and the Russians, being unable to see now, threw themselves into the water, trying to swim back to their comrades, or else, at a loss what to do, gave up all hope of escape.
Thereupon a second signal was given and more triremes put out to sea. Other ships followed or sailed alongside. It was our fleet now that took courage, while the enemy hove-to in amazement. When the triremes neared the barbarians, the latter lost all coherence and their line broke. Some had the fortitude to stay where they were but the majority fled. Suddenly the sun attracted a mist off the low lying land (most of the horizon consisted of high ground) and the weather changed. A strong breeze blew from east to west, ploughed up the sea with a hurricane, and rolled waves down on the Russians. Some of their ships were overwhelmed on the spot under the weight of tremendous seas; others were driven far away and hurled on to rocks and precipitous coasts. A certain number of these latter were hunted down by our triremes. Some they sank in deep water, with the crews still aboard. The fighting men in the triremes cut others in half and towed them, partially submerged, to nearby beaches. So a great massacre of barbarians took place and a veritable stream of blood reddened the sea: one might well believe it came down the rivers off the mainland.
I escaped from Byzantium and went to see Yaroslav. Yaroslav remained a master bullshitter. He’d been hit in the ankle with an arrow, so he limped, but on the up side he was King of all the Rus' and he had a marriageable daughter. I was happy to be alive but sad that there was a fortune in gold that I had left behind. So Yaroslav and I hatched a plan.
One thing Zoe couldn’t tolerate was not being able to buy anything she wanted. And there were a lot of things she wanted. Periodically, John the Eunuch would convince her husband that he should limit Zoe’s spending in the name of saving the treasury. Now eventually, Zoe’s husbands tended to wind up dead, but Zoe’s immediate response to being denied in this way was to transfer gold from the treasury to the lower vaults of her personal palace in Blachernae.
Which is also where we had the barracks of the Variangian Guard.
Yaroslav’s son took a fleet down the river, and under cover of Vladimir attacking the palace walls in the Golden Horn I broke into the city, commandeered the cream of Greek shipbuilding, fucked Zoe one more time for old time’s sake, loaded all the gold from the Blachernae Palace onto the boat, and sailed away with the remnants of the Variangian Guard.
I raided a
Pecheneg village and made them haul my boats upriver. At Kiev I paid Yaroslav
his share. I took my gold, his daughter, my friends, and all my boats, and
headed north.
The oaken keel carved westward
the climbing water from Garðar.
After
that all the Svíar
aided
you, bold land-ruler.
Haraldr’s
waterlogged warship
went,
with much gold, under
the
broad sail, listing to leeward—
over the lord broke a furious tempest.
“Thou shalt keep watch, therefore, in case anything happen in the night.”
Harald then went away to sleep somewhere else, and laid a billet of wood in his place. At midnight a boat rowed alongside to the ship's bulwark; a man went on board, lifted up the cloth of the tent of the bulwarks, went up, and struck in Harald's bed with a great ax, so that it stood fast in the lump of wood. The man instantly ran back to his boat again, and rowed away in the dark night, for the moon was set; but the axe remained sticking in the piece of wood as an evidence.
…
King Haraldr gave Steiger-Thorir there at the banquet a mazer bowl. It had a sliver band around it and a silver handle on top, both gilded, and was completely filled with pure silver coins. With it there were two golden rings which together weighed a mark. He also gave him his cloak, it was fine cloth dyed brown, trimmed with white fur, and promised him great honor and his friendship.
Vikings
are petty and vicious, but in the Viking world there is nothing that can’t be
settled with gold. I traded a hundred gold arm rings for half a share of the
kingdom of Norway, and when my nephew Magnus died a year later it all belonged
to me.
King Haraldr had a market town built east in Oslofjord, and often stayed there, for it was a good place for getting supplies, the land around being very productive. Staying there was very convenient for guarding the land from the Danes, and also for incursions into Denmark. He was accustomed to doing this frequently, even when he did not have a large army out.
I spent a lot of time in Oslofjord. It was my home district, so I felt safe there.
I built ships there. We cut the big timber from the mountains and floated it down into the fjord. The blacksmith forged nails that did not rust. Our best seller was a knarr designed for two men and ten sheep.
King Haraldr stayed the winter in Niðaróss. He had a ship built during the winter out on Eyrar. It was a búza type ship. This ship was built after the style of Ormr inn langi and finished with the finest craftsmanship. There was a dragon head at the prow, and in the rear a curved tail, and the necks of both were all decorated with gold. It numbered thirty-five rowing benches, and was of a proportionate size, and was a most handsome vessel. The king had all the equipment for the ship carefully made, both sail and rigging, anchor and cables.
I was King of Norway for 20 years. In retrospect, it went by in a flash. It was real life, which doesn’t always align with the historical record.
I loved to sail. I sailed every summer. I had a shipbuilder in the Oslofjord, implementing the designs I had used and seen in the Black Sea, in the Mediterranean, in Egypt. Clinker built Longships, Triremes with keels and a lateen sail, canoes with outriggers, I was always trying out a new design.
I sailed to Halogaland. I sailed to the Faroes. I sailed to Iceland. I sailed to Greenland. I sailed to Vinland. That all happened.
Convenient to Kattegat and the markets of Copenhagen and Malmo, easy access to the Jutland coast and up the Elbe.
To Kattegat, through the Belt, to Uppsala for the psychedelic Woodstock, over to Novgorod to see Ellisif’s sisters.
To Jutland, up the Elbe or down the Friesans.
Follow the route of Rollo up the Seine to Paris. Normandy, the Isle of Wight, the slave market at Dublin, and the follow the Gulf Stream home to Trondheim. You could take a lot more risks heading out, because to get home all you had to do was follow the wind.
The North Sea. With a sun compass and the stars by night you could steer a course, but the winds were always blowing you back home, not out to the location of your next adventure. Four days forced rowing to Hjaltaland – the stopping point.
The North Atlantic – that was a whole different story. The favorable wind for Iceland is always the front edge of a storm. You hope the storm is large enough that you get to Iceland before the wind turns or small enough that you can ride it out and then navigate there under clear skies. Both my cruises were the in-between case. Two days due west on good winds, then four days of ten foot seas, rowers around the clock to give you way into the waves, and no sight of sky by day or by night.
The Icelanders were pretty badass. I kept one in Trondheim as my court poet. No trees – no way to repair a boat of build a new one. After I returned, I instituted trade with them – boat lumber for walrus tusks.
Tbh, the job of King of Norway was not that demanding. Anything can be settled with gold. I could travel freely and freeload. Keep the war-arrows to a minimum. Plenty of volunteers if you can plunder. I made the Halogaland people build me a longhouse so I could watch the Northern Lights one winter.
I loved metallurgy. I built a smelter in Olsofjord – extracted iron from Danish
bog ore, made pig iron ingots, forged steel for a Daneaxe that was more like a
meat cleaver on a stick than any field axe. I minted my own coinage.
Yaroslav, Great Prince of Rus', passed away. While he was yet alive, he admonished his sons with these words:
“My sons, I am about to quit this world. Love one another, since ye are brothers by one father and mother. If ye abide in amity with one another, God will dwell among you, and will subject your enemies to you, and ye will live at peace. But if ye dwell in envy and dissension, quarreling with one another, then ye will perish yourselves and bring to ruin the land of your ancestors, which they won at the price of great effort. Wherefore remain rather at peace, brother heeding brother. The throne of Kiev I bequeath to my eldest son, your brother Izyaslav. Heed him as ye have heeded me, that he may take my place among you. To Svyatoslav I give Chernigov, to Vsevolod Pereyaslavl', to Igor' the city of Vladimir, and to Vyacheslav Smolensk.”
Thus he divided the cities among them, commanding them not to violate one another's boundaries, not to despoil one another. He laid upon Izyaslav the injunction to aid the party wronged, in case one brother should attack another. Thus he admonished his sons to dwell in amity. Being unwell, he came to Vyshgorod, and there fell seriously ill. Izyaslav at the moment was in Novgorod, Svyatoslav at Vladimir, and Vsevolod with his father, for he was beloved of his father before all his brethren, and Yaroslav kept him constantly by his side. The end of Yaroslav's life drew near, and he gave up the ghost on the first Saturday after the feast of St. Theodore. Vsevolod bore his father's body away, and laying it upon a sled, he brought it to Kiev, while priests sang the customary hymns, and the people mourned for him. When they had transported the body, they laid it in a marble sarcophagus in the Church of St. Sophia, and Vsevolod and all his subjects mourned him. All the years of his age were seventy six.
Yaroslav loved religious establishments and was devoted to priests, especially to monks. He applied himself to books, and read them continually day and night. He assembled many scribes, and translated from Greek into Slavic. He wrote and collected many books through which true believers are instructed and enjoy religious education. For as one man plows the land, and another sows, and still others reap and eat food in abundance, so did this prince. His father Vladimir plowed and harrowed the soil when he enlightened Rus' through baptism, while this prince sowed the hearts of the faithful with the written word, and we in turn reap the harvest by receiving the teaching of books. For great is the profit from book-learning. Through the medium of books, we are shown and taught the way of repentance, for we gain wisdom and continence from the written word. Books are like rivers that water the whole earth; they are the springs of wisdom. For books have an immeasurable depth; by them we are consoled in sorrow.
Once you get a taste for Viking cruises you can’t really kick it. Get together with 50 or so of your best buds, sail someplace new; camp, rape, pillage, and plunder; back home in time to bring in the harvest. Plus, I always enjoyed fucking with Sweyn of Sweeden.
Sweyn was married three times, and fathered 20 children or more out of wedlock. He was courageous in battle, but did not have much success as a military commander. His skeleton reveals that he was a tall, powerfully built man who walked with a limp.
Sweyn managed to escape the battle of Nisa, reached land and stopped at the house of a peasant to ask for something to eat.
“What was the terrible rumbling in the night?” she asked.
“Didn't you know the two kings were fighting all night?” asked one of Sweyn's men.
“Who won, then?” the woman asked.
“Norwegians,” came the reply.
“It's a shame on us, for a king we already have. He limps and is timid.”
“No,” King Sweyn explained.
“Timid the king of the Danes is assuredly not,” defended another of the king's men, “but luck isn't with him and he lacks a victory.”
The housecarl brought the men water and a towel to wash themselves. As the king was drying his hands, the woman tore the cloth from him,
“You should be ashamed of yourself for using the whole towel for yourself,” she scolded.
Her husband gave the king a horse and Sweyn continued on his way to Zealand.
I was on a Viking cruise. Down Jutland, into the Elbe. Looking for a sweet castle that was open to the water and defensible from the land. Found a monastery instead. At the time I needed the Pope to canonize my brother Olaf, to open a church in Trondheim, and to take care of Olaf’s remains, from which hair and fingernails still could be trimmed.
I raided
the monastery, threw all the monks aboard, and them back to Trondheim.
We didn’t have good winds, so I entertained myself by drinking and talking to the monks. One of them spoke good Norse, another taught me some Latin The sailing directions are pretty accurate. The stuff about Uppsala, the more outrageous it got the more they believed, so I just kept going. Besides, after that they were motivated to anoint Olaf a saint and to finish the church.
Adam of Bremen
On account of the roughness of its mountains and the immoderate cold, Norway is the most unproductive of all countries, suited only for herds. They browse their cattle, like the Arabs, far off in the solitudes. In this way do the people make a living from their livestock by using the milk of the flocks or herds for food and the wool for clothing. Consequently, there are produced very valiant fighters who, not softened by any overindulgence in fruits, more often attack others than others trouble them. Poverty has forced them thus to go all over the world and from piratical raids they bring home in great abundance the riches of the lands. In this way they bear up under the unfruitfulness of their own country.
Those who have a knowledge of geography also assert that some men have passed by an overland route from Sweden into Greece. But the barbarous peoples who live between make this way difficult; consequently, the risk is taken by ship.
The route is of a kind that, boarding a ship, they may, in a day’s journey, cross the sea from Aalborg or Wendila of the Danes to Viken, a city of the Norwegians. Sailing thence toward the left along the coast of Norway, the city called Trondhjem is reached on the fifth day. But it is possible also to go another way that leads over a land road from Scania of the Danes to Trondhjem. This route, however, is slower in the mountainous country, and travelers avoid it because it is dangerous.
Situated between Norway and Britain and Ireland, the Orkneys, therefore, laugh playfully at the threats of a menacing ocean. It is said that one can sail to them in a day from the Norwegian city of Trondhjem. They say, too, that from the Orkneys it is just as far whether you steer toward England or set sail for Scotland.
This happens on the island of Thule, six days’ sail distant from Britain toward the north. … This Thule is now called Iceland, from the ice which binds the ocean. … It has on it many peoples, who make a living only by raising cattle and who clothe themselves with their pelts. No crops are grown there; the supply of wood is very meager.
In the ocean there are very many other islands of which not the least is Greenland, situated far out in the ocean. … To this island they say it is from five to seven days’ sail from the coast of Norway.
The third island is Helgeland, nearer to Norway but in extent not unequal to the rest. That island sees the sun upon the land for fourteen days continuously at the solstice in summer and, similarly, it lacks the sun for the same number of days in the winter.
Yet another island of the many found in that ocean. It is called Vinland because vines producing excellent wine grow wild there. That unsown crops also abound on that island we have ascertained not from fabulous reports but from trustworthy relation.
The very well-informed prince of the Norwegians, Harold, lately attempted this sea. After he had explored the expanse of the Northern Ocean in his ships, there lay before their eyes at length the darksome bounds of a failing world, and by retracing his steps he barely escaped in safety the vast pit of the abyss.
Now we shall say a few words about the superstitions of the Swedes. That folk has a very famous temple called Uppsala, situated not far from the city of Sigtuna and Björkö. In this temple, entirely decked out in gold, the people worship the statues of three gods in such wise that the mightiest of them, Thor, occupies a throne in the middle of the chamber; Wotan and Frikko have places on either side. The significance of these gods is as follows: Thor, they say, presides over the air, which governs the thunder and lightning, the winds and rains, fair weather and crops. The other, Wotan—that is, the Furious—carries on war and imparts to man strength against his enemies. The third is Frikko, who bestows peace and pleasure on mortals. His likeness, too, they fashion with an immense phallus. But Wotan they chisel armed, as our people are wont to represent Mars. Thor with his scepter apparently resembles Jove. … For all their gods there are appointed priests to offer sacrifices for the people. If plague and famine threaten, a libation is poured to the idol Thor; if war, to Wotan; if marriages are to be celebrated, to Frikko. It is customary also to solemnize in Uppsala, at nine-year intervals, a general feast of all the provinces of Sweden. From attendance at this festival no one is exempted.
The sacrifice is of this nature: of every living thing that is male, they offer nine heads, with the blood of which it is customary to placate gods of this sort. The bodies they hang in the sacred grove that adjoins the temple. Now this grove is so sacred in the eyes of the heathen that each and every tree in it is believed divine because of the death or putrefaction of the victims. Even dogs and horses hang there with men. A Christian seventy-two years old told me that he had seen their bodies suspended promiscuously. Furthermore, the incantations customarily chanted in the ritual of a sacrifice of this kind are manifold and unseemly; therefore, it is better to keep silence about them.
Near this temple stands a very large tree with wide-spreading branches, always green winter and summer. What kind it is nobody knows. There is also a spring at which the pagans are accustomed to make their sacrifices, and into it to plunge a live man. And if he is not found, the people’s wish will be granted.
A golden chain goes round the temple. It hangs over the gable of the building and sends its glitter far off to those who approach, because the shrine stands on level ground with mountains all about it like a theater.
Feasts and sacrifices of this kind are solemnized for nine days. On each day they offer a man along with other living beings in such a number that in the course of the nine days they will have made offerings of seventy-two creatures. This sacrifice takes place about the time of the vernal equinox.
It happened one summer that Haraldr Guðinason had a journey to make to Bretland and went by ship. And when they got out to the open sea, then a contrary wind arose and they were driven far out to sea. They reached land west in Normandy and had endured a deadly storm. They made for the city of Rúða and there met Jarl Viljálmr. He welcomed Haraldr warmly and his company. Haraldr stayed there a long time in the autumn with hospitable entertainment, for storms were raging and it was not possible to go to sea. So when it got close to winter, then they discussed this, the jarl and Haraldr, that Haraldr should stay there for the winter. Haraldr was sitting in a seat of honour on one side of the jarl, and the jarl’s wife on his other side. She was fairer than any other woman that people had seen. They always all had entertaining talk together over their drinks. The jarl generally went early to bed, but Haraldr sat long in the evenings talking with the jarl’s wife. So it went on for a long time during the winter.
Matilda. One hell of a woman. William’s wife. Tostig’s
wife’s sister. One hell of a woman.
Arctic noon dusk, on the beach of a calm fjord, two men recite poetry, call and refrain, over the still waters and beneath the looming mountains. I’ve come to Halogaland to fish for cod, to harvest the stickfish and the saltfish, to make skis and snow-shoes, to fashion mink cloaks and wollen sweaters, to fuck the local women and to watch the northern lights. Beside the mountain, beneath the sunset, under oars, a dark ship enters the fjord. The poetry ends and I wonder who it could be, on that boat, coming for me.
Tostig appears to have governed in Northumbria with some difficulty. He was never popular with the Northumbrian ruling class, a mix of Danish invaders and Anglo-Saxon survivors of the last Norse invasion. Tostig was said to have been heavy-handed with those who resisted his rule, including murdering several members of leading Northumbrian families. In late 1063 or early 1064, Tostig had Gamal son of Orm and Ulf son of Dolfin assassinated when Gamal visited him under safe conduct. The Vita Edwardi, otherwise sympathetic to Tostig, states that he had “repressed [the Northumbrians] with the heavy yoke of his rule”.
This was done on the mass-day of St. Bartholomew. Soon after this all the thanes in Yorkshire and in Northumberland gathered themselves together at York, and outlawed their Earl Tosty; slaying all the men of his clan that they could reach, both Danish and English; and took all his weapons in York, with gold and silver, and all his money that they could anywhere there find.
Harold Godwinson persuaded King Edward the Confessor to agree to the demands of the rebels. Tostig was outlawed a short time later, possibly early in November, because he refused to accept his deposition as commanded by Edward. This led to the fatal confrontation and enmity between the two Godwinsons. At a meeting of the king and his council, Tostig publicly accused Harold of fomenting the rebellion. Harold was keen to unify England in the face of the grave threat from William of Normandy, who had openly declared his intention to take the English throne. It was likely that Harold had exiled his brother to ensure peace and loyalty in the north. Tostig, however, remained unconvinced and plotted vengeance.
Tostig took ship with his family and some loyal thegns and took refuge with his brother-in-law, Baldwin V, Count of Flanders. He even travelled to Normandy and attempted to form an alliance with William, who was related to his wife. Baldwin provided him with a fleet and he landed in the Isle of Wight in May 1066, where he collected money and provisions. He raided the coast as far as Sandwich but was forced to retreat when King Harold called out land and naval forces. He moved north and after an unsuccessful attempt to get his brother Gyrth to join him, he raided Norfolk and Lincolnshire. The Earls Edwin and Morcar defeated him decisively. Deserted by his men, he fled to his sworn brother, King Malcolm III of Scotland. Tostig spent the summer of 1066 in Scotland.
He made contact with King Harald III Hardrada of Norway and persuaded him to invade England. One of the sagas claims that he sailed for Norway, and greatly impressed the Norwegian king and his court, managing to sway a decidedly unenthusiastic Hardrada, who had just concluded a long and inconclusive war with Denmark, into raising a levy to take the throne of England.
William of Normandy passes. Baldwin of Flanders passes, although he gives Tostig a few ships to make him go away. Malcom of Scotland passes. Harald of Norway, on the other hand, knows a good thing when he sees it.
Jarl Tósti changed direction in his travel, and turned up in Norway and went to see King Haraldr. He was in the Vík. And when they meet, the jarl reveals his errand to the king, telling him all about his travels since he left England and asking the king to give him support in getting back his realm in England. The king’s reply is this, that Norwegians would not be keen to travel to England and lay it waste and have an English ruler over them.
“People say that those English are not very reliable.”
His own brother Harold hated him so much that Harold kicked Tostig out of Essex and sent Tostig to York. The people in York hated Tostig so much they killed all Tostig’s housecarls and plundered all his gold. When their father died Harold disowned Tostig and kicked him out of Northumberland. Did I mention that Tostig has an incredibly punchable face?
The jarl replies: “If you will not tell me, then I will tell you. King Magnús won Denmark because the leading men of that land helped him, and you did not get it because all the people of the country stood against you. King Magnús did not fight to conquer England because the people of the country wanted to have Eatvarðr as king. If you want to gain England, then I can bring it about that the majority of the leaders in England will be your friends and supporters. I lack nothing more in comparison with my brother Harold than just the name of king. Everyone knows that no such fighting man has been born in Northern Lands as you, and I find it surprising that you have been fighting for fifteen winters to win Denmark, but you will not take England, which now lies open to you.”
I knew that Tostig was full of shit. I decided to do it anyway. I was fifty years old – how could I resist the chance for one more great adventure before I passed the kingdom down to my sons and retired to Halogaland to drink Rhenish wine and watch the northern lights.
It could work. William would be invading from the south, I would be invading from the north, the English forces loyalty would be split between Harold, Tostig, and their home villages. It worked in Sicily. It worked for Cnut. Why couldn’t it work for me?
King Haraldr considered carefully what the jarl was saying, and realised that much of what he said was true, and on the other hand he began to get keen to have the kingdom. After this the king and the jarl spoke together long and often. They settled on this plan, that they should in the summer go to England and conquer the country. King Haraldr sent word all over Norway and called out troops for an expedition, a half levy. This now became widely known. There were many guesses about where the expedition would be going. Some said, reckoning up King Haraldr’s achievements, that nothing would be impossible for him, while some said that England would be difficult to defeat, the population there being enormous.