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Updated: May 18, 2025
This story is of interest, as these are the first iron-plated ships spoken of in history. By this and other exploits Birger grew in esteem, and when the Finns began their terrible work in the north he and the king summoned the people to arms, and the old warlike spirit, which had long been at rest, was reawakened in the hearts of the Swedes.
"What time is it, Father?" asked Gerda, as they reached the top of Mount Dundret, and Lieutenant Ekman took the key out of his pocket to open the door of the Tourists' Hut. "It is half past eleven," replied her father, looking at his watch. "At noon or at night?" questioned Gerda. "Look at the sun, and don't ask such foolish questions," Birger told her.
"It is plain that we shall never find two names to suit everyone," replied the father, laughing so heartily that both babies opened their big blue eyes and puckered up their lips for a good cry. "Hush, Birger! Hush, little daughter!" whispered their mother; and she rocked the cradle gently, singing softly: "Hist, hist! Mother is crooning and babies list. Hist, hist!
Then he went on his way smiling, and Birger Larsson, scratching his head, returned to his work. But the stranger's query haunted his mind for several days. "I wonder what made him say that?" he mused. "There must be something back of it all that I don't understand."
"What is Erik doing in Gellivare?" questioned Herr Ekman. "He is working in the iron mines," Birger explained. "He wants to save money so that he can go to Stockholm and learn a trade. He doesn't want to stay here in Lapland and wander about with the reindeer all his life." "So?" said Lieutenant Ekman in surprise. "Your friend Erik seems to have ambitions of his own."
There was another Magnus whose candidacy was spoiled by this union. He was the son of King Birger, already as a child chosen king of Sweden in succession to his father. Magnus Birgersson, a prisoner at Stockholm, was beheaded in 1320, to make safe the reign of his more fortunate cousin.
Sir Matts Kettilmundson, the brave knight who had shown such courage in Russia, was made Administrator of the kingdom and soon defeated a Danish army which had been sent to King Birger's aid. Then Birger and his wicked queen were obliged to flee to Sweden, where grief soon brought him to his death-bed.
"She believes that a burning, golden plowshare was dropped from heaven ages ago, in the beginning of Sweden's history, as a symbol of what the gods expected of the people; and she says that a well-kept farm and a well-read book are the most beautiful things in the world." Birger looked up from the door-step where he was whittling out a mast for one of his boats.
This was King Birger of Sweden, who had long been at sword's point with his ambitious brothers and wanted the throne of Norway as well as that of Sweden to descend to his own son Magnus. He pretended to be pleased, however, for he had in mind a treacherous plot to destroy his brothers and their children and thus leave the way clear for his ambitious schemes.
"You may wear them to school to-day in honor of your birthday," said her mother; "but Birger's soldier suit seems a little out of season." Birger had taken a fancy to have a suit of gray with black trimmings, such as the Swedish soldiers wear, and it had been given to him with a new Swedish flag, as a match for Gerda's furs.
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