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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Your hour is at hand, proud king!" she murmured; and her voice sounded through the hail like the soughing of the wintry wind among the pines. "Your hour is at hand, Olaf Triggvison. Never shall my warm lips touch yours. Cold steel shall kiss you now." She stepped back a pace, so that the moonlight, falling upon him, might show her where to strike.
"I think then, that there are not very far from you bigger cattle for slaughter than my poor cows and goats," said the shepherd. Vagn did not understand his meaning. But Olaf Triggvison looked at the man with quick apprehension, and said: "If you know anything about the journey of Hakon Jarl, tell us at once. And if you can truthfully tell us where he is, then your cows and goats are safe."
At last, when the earl was quiet, Kark sprang up, gripped a big knife from out of his belt and thrust it into his master's throat. That was the bane of Earl Hakon. On the next day Olaf Triggvison was in Lade, and there came to him a man naming himself Kark, bringing with him the severed head of Earl Hakon, which he offered to the king.
So when Swedish Olaf stood again on guard, the two crossed swords once more. "Now will I avenge the insult you offered my mother!" cried Olaf Sigridson, "and you who struck her on the cheek with your glove shall be struck dead with a weapon of well tempered steel instead of foxskin." "Guard well your head," returned Triggvison, "lest I knock off your helmet.
That part of France was thereafter named Normannia, or Normandy the land of the Norsemen. Rolf was there made a duke. His son William was the father of Richard the Fearless, who was the grandfather of the great William the Conqueror. Now, when that same wintertide had passed, and when the new buds were showing on the trees, Olaf Triggvison arrayed his ships ready for the sea.
Now Olaf Triggvison had until this time lived always in the firm hope that when he died he would be admitted into the shining hall of Valhalla, where he might expect to meet all the great heroes of past times. He believed that Odin would receive him there, and reward him well for all the glorious deeds that he had done.
He remained on board until nightfall, and then, dropping into a small sailing boat that he had been careful to provide himself with, he stole out of the bay and was soon far away among the skerries, safe from all pursuit. The disappearance of Olaf Triggvison was scarcely remarked by the Norwegians, who were at that time holding high revel in celebration of their victory.
It was Olaf Triggvison who, if he failed in his own attempt, at least pointed out the way by which King Sweyn of Denmark and his greater son Canute at length gained possession of the throne of England and infused the nation with the blood which now flows in the veins of every true born Briton. The ocean loving vikings of the north were the ancestors of the English speaking people of today.
His ships were called off from the combat and withdrawn out of range of the Norsemen's arrows. He had won no fame by his daring attack, but only ignominious defeat, and he was fain to escape alive, albeit very badly wounded. Thus Olaf Triggvison had made both the Danes and the Swedes take to flight, and it had all befallen as he had said.
King Sweyn said: "Now is Olaf Triggvison afraid, for he dares not sail with the head on his ship!" "This is not the king's ship," returned Earl Erik with confident denial; "for by the green and red striping of her sails I know that her captain is Erling Skialgson. Let him pass on!
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