The Kings of Norway
Hakon the Good — a Christian King Among Heathens
Fostered in England
Harald Fairhair, old and with many quarrelsome sons, sent his youngest, Hakon, across the sea to be fostered by King Athelstan of England — and there the boy was raised a Christian, in the most cultured court of the West.[1] It was meant as honour and alliance; it made Hakon something new in Norway: a king-to-be who held the new faith from childhood, gentle-mannered and lettered, formed by England rather than by the fjords.
The fostering shapes everything that follows. Hakon will come home loved for his English graces and his fairness, but carrying a faith his country does not share — and the gap between the Christian king and his heathen people is the tragedy the whole saga turns on. Long before the two Olafs force Christianity by the sword, here is the first attempt: a king who simply was Christian, and hoped his people might come with him.
The source text · 1
King Hakon was a good Christian when he came to Norway; but as the whole country was heathen, with much heathenish sacrifice, and as many great people, as well as the favour of the common people, were to be conciliated, he resolved to practise his .mw-parser-output .wst-tooltip{cursor:help;border-bottom:thin dotted cornflowerblue}.mw-parser-output .wst-tooltip-nodash{border-bottom:none}Christian ty in private. But he kept Sundays, and the Friday fasts, and some token of the greatest holy days. He made a law that the festival of Yule should begin at the same time as Christian people held it, and that every man, under penalty, should brew a meal[20] of malt into ale, and therewith keep the Yule holy as long as it lasted. Before him, the beginning of Yule, or the slaughter night[21] was the night of mid-winter, and Yule was kept for three days thereafter. It was his intent, as soon as he had set himself fast in the land, and had subjected the whole to his power, to introduce Christianity. He went to work first by enticing to Christianity the men who were dearest to him; and many, out of friendship to him, allowed themselves to be baptized, and some laid aside sacrifices. He dwelt long in the Drontheim district, for the strength of the country lay there; and when he thought that, by the support of some powerful people there, he could set up Christianity, he sent a message to England for a bishop and other teachers; and when they arrived in Norway, Hakon made it known that he would proclaim Christianity over all the land. The people of More and Baunisdal referred the matter to the people of Drontheim. King Hakon then had several churches consecrated, and put priests into them; and when he came to Drontheim he summoned the bonders to a Thing, and invited them to accept Christianity. They gave an answer to the effect that they would defer the matter until the Froste Thing, at which there would be men from every district of the Drontheim country, and then they would give their determination upon this difficult matter.— heimskringla
Hakon a good Christian raised at Athelstan's court (Laing).
Home to claim the crown
When Harald died and his cruel son Eric Bloodaxe — who had murdered his way through his own brothers — held the throne, the young Hakon came home from England and was at once chosen king by the people, glad to be rid of Eric.[1] He won the country almost without a blow: Eric, hated and outmatched, left Norway with his wife Gunnhild and their sons to go raiding in the west.
So Hakon began in the best possible way — acclaimed, not conquering; the gentle alternative to a tyrant. But Eric's flight only deferred the reckoning. Gunnhild, the king-mother, would spend the rest of her life pressing her sons' claim, and the shadow of Eric's line lies over Hakon's whole reign. The loved king has, from the first day, an exiled royal family sworn to take back what he holds.
The source text · 1
King Hakon was a good Christian when he came to Norway; but as the whole country was heathen, with much heathenish sacrifice, and as many great people, as well as the favour of the common people, were to be conciliated, he resolved to practise his .mw-parser-output .wst-tooltip{cursor:help;border-bottom:thin dotted cornflowerblue}.mw-parser-output .wst-tooltip-nodash{border-bottom:none}Christian ty in private. But he kept Sundays, and the Friday fasts, and some token of the greatest holy days. He made a law that the festival of Yule should begin at the same time as Christian people held it, and that every man, under penalty, should brew a meal[20] of malt into ale, and therewith keep the Yule holy as long as it lasted. Before him, the beginning of Yule, or the slaughter night[21] was the night of mid-winter, and Yule was kept for three days thereafter. It was his intent, as soon as he had set himself fast in the land, and had subjected the whole to his power, to introduce Christianity. He went to work first by enticing to Christianity the men who were dearest to him; and many, out of friendship to him, allowed themselves to be baptized, and some laid aside sacrifices. He dwelt long in the Drontheim district, for the strength of the country lay there; and when he thought that, by the support of some powerful people there, he could set up Christianity, he sent a message to England for a bishop and other teachers; and when they arrived in Norway, Hakon made it known that he would proclaim Christianity over all the land. The people of More and Baunisdal referred the matter to the people of Drontheim. King Hakon then had several churches consecrated, and put priests into them; and when he came to Drontheim he summoned the bonders to a Thing, and invited them to accept Christianity. They gave an answer to the effect that they would defer the matter until the Froste Thing, at which there would be men from every district of the Drontheim country, and then they would give their determination upon this difficult matter.— heimskringla
Hakon returns and is chosen king (Laing).
The lawgiver
Hakon's lasting glory was not war but law. He set in order the legal assemblies of the country — the Gulathing and the Frostathing — and above all he created the leiðangr, the coastal levy: a standing system by which the whole seaboard was divided into ship-districts, each bound to provide and man a war-ship when the king called, with beacons on the headlands to pass the war-summons up the coast in a night.[1]
It was statesmanship of a high order — a permanent national defence woven into the very geography of Norway, and law-codes that long outlived him. This is the other Hakon, the one his people genuinely loved: not the failed missionary but the king who made them safer and better-governed than they had ever been. The by-name 'the Good' is earned here, in the dull, durable work of law.
The source text · 1
Chapter XXI.King Hakon's laws.— heimskringla
Hakon's laws and the coastal levy with beacons (Laing).
The lonely faith
Hakon was a good Christian, the saga says — but he came to a wholly heathen country, full of sacrifice, where the great men and the favour of the commons had to be kept.[1] So he carried his faith quietly, keeping Sundays and fasts privately, hoping to win the people gently rather than to force them; he brought priests and built a church or two, and tried to coax the country toward Christ by example.
It is a poignant, modern-seeming strategy — conversion by patience and persuasion, the king leading by his own observance. But it ran against the deepest grain of his people, for whom the sacrifices were not mere belief but the very thing that kept the seasons and the luck. Hakon's gentleness, which made him loved, made him powerless here. The new faith needed either a people ready for it or a king willing to compel — and Hakon was neither.
The source text · 1
King Hakon was a good Christian when he came to Norway; but as the whole country was heathen, with much heathenish sacrifice, and as many great people, as well as the favour of the common people, were to be conciliated, he resolved to practise his .mw-parser-output .wst-tooltip{cursor:help;border-bottom:thin dotted cornflowerblue}.mw-parser-output .wst-tooltip-nodash{border-bottom:none}Christian ty in private. But he kept Sundays, and the Friday fasts, and some token of the greatest holy days. He made a law that the festival of Yule should begin at the same time as Christian people held it, and that every man, under penalty, should brew a meal[20] of malt into ale, and therewith keep the Yule holy as long as it lasted. Before him, the beginning of Yule, or the slaughter night[21] was the night of mid-winter, and Yule was kept for three days thereafter. It was his intent, as soon as he had set himself fast in the land, and had subjected the whole to his power, to introduce Christianity. He went to work first by enticing to Christianity the men who were dearest to him; and many, out of friendship to him, allowed themselves to be baptized, and some laid aside sacrifices. He dwelt long in the Drontheim district, for the strength of the country lay there; and when he thought that, by the support of some powerful people there, he could set up Christianity, he sent a message to England for a bishop and other teachers; and when they arrived in Norway, Hakon made it known that he would proclaim Christianity over all the land. The people of More and Baunisdal referred the matter to the people of Drontheim. King Hakon then had several churches consecrated, and put priests into them; and when he came to Drontheim he summoned the bonders to a Thing, and invited them to accept Christianity. They gave an answer to the effect that they would defer the matter until the Froste Thing, at which there would be men from every district of the Drontheim country, and then they would give their determination upon this difficult matter.— heimskringla
Hakon keeps his faith quietly in a heathen land, hoping to conciliate (Laing).
The Thing at Frosta
At last Hakon tried to ask his people openly. At the great Frostathing, before a vast assembly, he stood and made it his message and entreaty that the bonders, great and small, should let themselves be baptised and believe in the one God.[1] He spoke well, and earnestly, the king laying his whole heart before his people.
And they refused him — flatly, angrily. The bonders answered that he was asking to take from them the faith of their fathers and the sacrifices on which their whole life depended; they would sooner drive him out than give up the old gods, king or no king. It is the great set-piece of the failed conversion: the loved king, at the height of his authority, asking his people to change their souls, and being told no by the men whose swords had made him. The Thing that governs Norway will not be governed in this.
The source text · 1
King Hakon came to the Froste Thing, at which a vast multitude of people were assembled. And when the Thing was seated, the king spoke to the people, and began his speech with saying,—it was his message and entreaty to the bonders and householding men, both great and small, and to the whole public in general, young and old, rich and poor, women as well as men, that they should all allow themselves to be baptized, and should believe in one God, and in Christ the son of Mary; and refrain from all sacrifices and heathen gods; and should keep holy the seventh day, and abstain from all work on it, and keep a fast on the seventh day. As soon as the king had proposed this to the bonders, great was the murmur and noise among the crowd. They complained that the king wanted to take their labour and their old faith from them, and the land could not be cultivated in that way. The labouring men and slaves thought that they could not work if they did not get meat; and they said it was the character of King Hakon, and his father, and all the family, to be generous enough with their money, but sparing with their diet. Asbiorn of Midalhouse in the Gaulardal stood up, and answered thus to the king's proposal:—— heimskringla
Hakon at the Frostathing entreats the bonders to take baptism (Laing).
The feast at Lade
Then came the reckoning, at the sacrificial feast at Lade. The king had always kept apart at such feasts, taking his meals privately rather than join the rites — but now the bonders grumbled openly that their king would not honour the gods, and they pressed him hard.[1] Step by step they forced him: to sit in the high-seat, to drink the toasts dedicated to Odin and the gods, and at last — when he would not eat the sacrificial horse-flesh — to open his mouth over the steam of the kettle and bite the handle wrapped in cloth, so that he partook of the offering after all.
It is one of the most painful scenes in Heimskringla: the Christian king, cornered by his own beloved people, made to perform the heathen rite against his soul. Neither side wins cleanly — the bonders get their king's compliance, but only by force; Hakon keeps his throne, but only by betraying his faith. The conversion has failed utterly, and the failure is dramatised as a meal the king is shamed into eating. His people have converted him, not he them.
The source text · 1
The harvest thereafter, towards the winter season, there was a festival of sacrifice at Lade, and the king came to it. It had always been his custom before, when he was present at a place where there was sacrifice, to take his meals in a little house by himself, or with some few of his men; but the bonders grumbled that he did not seat himself on his throne at these the most joyous of the meetings of the people. The earl said that the king should do so this time. The king accordingly sat upon his throne. Now when the first full goblet was filled, Earl Sigurd spoke some words over it, blessed it in Odin's name, and drank to the king out of the horn; and the king then took it, and made the sign of the cross over it. Then said Kaare of Gryting, "What does the king mean by doing so? Will he not sacrifice?" Earl Sigurd replies, "The king is doing what all of you do, who trust to your power and strength. He is blessing the full goblet in the name of Thor, by making the sign of his hammer over it before he drinks it." On this there was quietness for the evening. The next day, when the people sat down to table, the bonders pressed the king strongly to eat of horse-flesh[24]; and as he would on no account do so, they wanted him to drink of the soup; and as he would not do this, they insisted he should at least taste the gravy; and on his refusal they were going to lay hands on him. Earl Sigurd came and made peace among them, by asking the king to hold his mouth over the handle of the kettle, upon which the fat smoke of the boiled horse-flesh had settled itself; and the king first laid a linen cloth over the handle, and then gaped over it, and returned to the throne; but neither party was satisfied with this.— heimskringla
The bonders force Hakon to partake of the sacrifice at Lade (Laing).
Gunnhild's sons return
While Hakon wrestled with his people's gods, his enemies gathered. Gunnhild, Eric Bloodaxe's widow, raised her sons in the west and sent them again and again against Norway with Danish backing — a long war of raids and sea-battles down the years.[1] Hakon beat them at Augvaldsnes, beat them at Frædarberg where the brave Egil Ullserk fell, beat them repeatedly — the good king proving also a formidable war-leader when he had to be.
But the wars never ended, because Gunnhild never gave up. The king-mother is one of the saga's great implacable figures, feeding her sons' claim across decades. Each victory bought Hakon only a respite; the exiled royal line was a wound that would not close. The man who could not convert his people, and could not be rid of his rivals, was nonetheless winning every battle they brought him — until the one he did not survive.
The source text · 1
Chapter XXIII. Of Egil Ullsærk.— heimskringla
Gunnhild and her sons make war on Hakon; the battles down the years (Laing).
The arrow at Fitjar
The last battle came at Fitjar on the island of Stord, where Gunnhild's sons caught Hakon by surprise with a great force. He drew up his men and fought magnificently — at one point, the saga says, throwing off his armour in the joy of the fight — and he won the field, scattering his enemies.[1] But in the fighting an arrow struck him in the arm, and the wound, small as it seemed, would not stop bleeding.
So victory and death came in the same hour. The king who had survived every war Gunnhild could throw at him was undone by a single chance arrow at the moment of triumph. As his strength ebbed he asked to be carried north toward his house — a great king bleeding quietly to death after the last and best of his fights, the throne already passing, in that draining of blood, to the very enemies he had just beaten.
The source text · 1
When King Hakon came out to his ship he had his wound bound up; but the blood ran from it so much and so constantly, that it could not be stopped; and when the day was drawing to an end his strength began to leave him. Then he told his men that he wanted to go northwards to his house at Alrekstad[37]; but when he came north, as far as Hakon's Hill[38], they put in towards the land, for by this time the king was almost lifeless. Then he called his friends around him, and told them what he wished to be done with regard to his kingdom. He had only one child, a daughter, called Thora, and had no son. Now he told them to send a message to Eric's sons, that they should be kings over the country; but asked them to hold his friends in respect and honour. "And if fate," added he, "should prolong my life, I will, at any rate, leave the country, and go to a Christian land, and do penance for what I have done against God; but should I die in heathen land, give me any burial you think fit." Shortly afterwards Hakon expired, at the little hill on the shoreside at which he was born. So great was the sorrow over Hakon's death, that he was lamented both by friends and enemies; and they said that never again would Norway see such a king. His friends removed his body to Seaheim[39], in North Hordaland, and made a great mound, in which they laid the king in full armour and in his best clothes, but with no other goods. They spoke over his grave, as heathen people are used to do, and wished him in Valhalla. Eyvind Skaldaspiller composed a poem on the death of King Hakon, and on how well he was received in Valhalla. The poem is called "Hakonarmal:" —— heimskringla
Hakon wins at Fitjar but bleeds from an arrow-wound (Laing).
Buried in heathen ground
Dying, the Christian king made a last, telling choice. He had wished, his men knew, to be buried as a Christian — but seeing how things stood, and how his death would leave the country to heathen kings, he said that if he lived he would leave the land and do penance for the wrongs done against God; and if he died here, they should bury him as suited a heathen man.[1] And so they did, laying him in a mound with honour, mourned by friend and foe alike.
It is the perfect, tragic emblem of his whole reign. Even his death cannot be Christian: the king who could not bring the faith to his people is given a heathen burial by them, his own dying word bowing one last time to the country he could not change. Hakon the Good ends as he lived — a Christian soul wholly surrounded, and in the end submerged, by the heathen world he ruled and loved.
The source text · 1
When King Hakon came out to his ship he had his wound bound up; but the blood ran from it so much and so constantly, that it could not be stopped; and when the day was drawing to an end his strength began to leave him. Then he told his men that he wanted to go northwards to his house at Alrekstad[37]; but when he came north, as far as Hakon's Hill[38], they put in towards the land, for by this time the king was almost lifeless. Then he called his friends around him, and told them what he wished to be done with regard to his kingdom. He had only one child, a daughter, called Thora, and had no son. Now he told them to send a message to Eric's sons, that they should be kings over the country; but asked them to hold his friends in respect and honour. "And if fate," added he, "should prolong my life, I will, at any rate, leave the country, and go to a Christian land, and do penance for what I have done against God; but should I die in heathen land, give me any burial you think fit." Shortly afterwards Hakon expired, at the little hill on the shoreside at which he was born. So great was the sorrow over Hakon's death, that he was lamented both by friends and enemies; and they said that never again would Norway see such a king. His friends removed his body to Seaheim[39], in North Hordaland, and made a great mound, in which they laid the king in full armour and in his best clothes, but with no other goods. They spoke over his grave, as heathen people are used to do, and wished him in Valhalla. Eyvind Skaldaspiller composed a poem on the death of King Hakon, and on how well he was received in Valhalla. The poem is called "Hakonarmal:" —— heimskringla
The dying king bows to circumstance and is buried as a heathen (Laing).
Welcomed to Valhalla
And then his poet gave him the strangest, most beautiful afterlife in the corpus. Eyvind, called the Plagiarist, composed the Hákonarmál — and in it the valkyries are sent to fetch Hakon, and the heathen gods themselves welcome the Christian king into Valhalla, declaring that because he had spared and protected their temples, he was their friend and worthy of their halls.[1]
It is a small miracle of reconciliation in verse: the failed Christianiser embraced after death by the very gods he could not overthrow, honoured by the old faith precisely for the gentleness that made him fail. The poem ends with the most famous lines on him — happy the day that bears a king like Hakon; while the wolf Fenrir's age endures, none so good shall come again. The heathen world the king could not convert claims him, lovingly, for its own.
The source text · 1
"Well was it seen that Hakon still Had saved the temples from all ill;[40] For the whole council of the gods Welcomed the king to their abodes. Happy the day when men are horn Like Hakon, who all base things scorn,— Win from the brave an honoured name, And die amidst an endless fame.— heimskringla
The Hákonarmál: the gods welcome Hakon to Valhalla for sparing their temples (Laing).
The king the gods loved
Hakon the Good left Norway to Gunnhild's sons and a worse, greedier age — but he left it also the laws and the levy that long outlasted him, and a memory cherished above almost every other king.[1] He had tried to do by love what could not yet be done by love, and failed; the conversion he attempted would wait two generations and come at last by the sword of the two Olafs, who appear later in this atlas.
His journey is the hinge between the heathen and Christian ages of Norway — the first king to hold the new faith, the last to be honestly mourned by the old gods. Set beside Olaf Tryggvason's torture and St Olaf's martyrdom, Hakon's gentle failure is its own kind of greatness: the king good enough that even the gods he rejected wanted him in their hall. In the long story of the coming of Christianity, he is the road not taken — conversion by kindness, which the North was not yet ready to walk.
The source text · 1
"Well was it seen that Hakon still Had saved the temples from all ill;[40] For the whole council of the gods Welcomed the king to their abodes. Happy the day when men are horn Like Hakon, who all base things scorn,— Win from the brave an honoured name, And die amidst an endless fame.— heimskringla
The Hákonarmál's closing praise; none so good shall come again (Laing).
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