Cameos from English History, from Rollo to Edward II | Page 4

returning to their native homes, sometimes
found their place filled up, and the family inheritance incapable of
supporting so many. Thus they began to think of winning not merely
gold and cattle, but lands and houses, on the coasts that they had
pillaged. In Scotland, the Hebrides, and Ireland, they settled by leave of
nothing but their swords; in England, by treaty with Alfred; and in
France, half by conquest, half by treaty, always, however, accepting
Christianity as a needful obligation when they accepted southern lands.
Probably they thought that Thor was only the god of the North, and that
the "White Christ," as they called Him who was made known to them
in these new countries, was to be adored in what they deemed alone His
territories.
Of all the sea-robbers who sailed from their rocky dwelling-places by
the fiords of Norway, none enjoyed higher renown than Rolf, called the
ganger, or walker, as tradition relates, because his stature was so
gigantic that, when clad in full armor, no horse could support his
weight, and he therefore always fought on foot.
Rolf's lot had, however, fallen in what he doubtless considered as evil
days. No such burnings and plunderings as had hitherto wasted
England, and enriched Norway, fell to his share; for Alfred had made
the bravest Northman feel that his fleet and army were more than a
match for theirs. Ireland was exhausted by the former depredations of
the pirates, and, from a fertile and flourishing country, had become a
scene of desolation; Scotland and its isles were too barren to afford
prey to the spoiler; and worse than all, the King of Norway, Harald
Harfagre, desirous of being included among the civilized sovereigns of
Europe, strictly forbade his subjects to exercise their old trade of piracy
on his own coasts, or on those of his allies. Rolf, perhaps, considered
himself above this new law. His father, Earl Rognwald, as the chief
friend of the King, had been chosen to cut and comb the hair which
Harald had kept for ten years untrimmed, in fulfilment of a vow, that
his locks should never be clipped until the whole of Norway was under
his dominion. He had also been invested with the government of the

great Earldom of Möre, where the sons of Harald, jealous of the favor
with which he was regarded by their father, burnt him and sixty of his
men, in his own house. The vengeance taken by his sons had been
signal, and the King had replaced Thorer the Silent, one of their
number, in his father's earldom.
Rolf, presuming on the favor shown to his family, while returning from
an expedition on the Baltic, made a descent on the coast of Viken, a
part of Norway, and carried off the cattle wanted by his crew. The King,
who happened at that time to be in that district, was highly displeased,
and, assembling a council, declared Rolf Ganger an outlaw. His mother,
Hilda, a dame of high lineage, in vain interceded for him, and closed
her entreaty with a warning in the wild extemporary poetry of the
North:
"Bethink thee, monarch, it is ill With such a wolf, at wolf to play, Who,
driven to the wild woods away, May make the king's best deer his
prey."
Harald listened not, and it was well; for through the marvellous
dealings of Providence, the outlawry of this "wolf" of Norway led to
the establishment of our royal line, and to that infusion of new spirit
into England to which her greatness appears to be chiefly owing.
The banished Rolf found a great number of companions, who, like
himself, were unwilling to submit to the strict rule of Harald Harfagre,
and setting sail with them, he first plundered and devastated the coast
of Flanders, and afterward turned toward France. In the spring of 896,
the citizens of Rouen, scarcely yet recovered from the miseries inflicted
upon them by the fierce Danish rover, Hasting, were dismayed by the
sight of a fleet of long low vessels with spreading sails, heads carved
like that of a serpent, and sterns finished like the tail of the reptile, such
as they well knew to be the keels of the dreaded Northmen, the
harbingers of destruction and desolation. Little hope of succor or
protection was there from King Charles the Simple; and, indeed, had
the sovereign been ever so warlike and energetic, it would little have
availed Rouen, which might have been destroyed twice over before a
messenger could reach Laon.

In this emergency, Franco, the Archbishop, proposed to go forth to
meet the Northmen, and attempt to make terms for his flock. The offer
was gladly accepted by the trembling citizens, and the good
Archbishop went, bearing the keys of the town, to visit