XI. Martyrdom
We accompany king Olav on his last journey - to Stiklestad. We do not attempt to assay the many episodes the saga relates on the scales of the modern historian: it is the atmosphere that takes hold of us, when we read these chapters. The period in Gardarike is painted in gloomy colours. It is tempting here to recall the «dark night» of the mystics. As soon as the departure begins, an atmosphere of joy rises up from the king's army: joy because friends are maintaining their unity, joy because they have escaped from nagging doubt, joy because they are doing something at last, joy at coming again to Sweden and meeting wife and daughter - and the friends who come from Norway to support the king. Then comes the long journey through woods, across waste places and mountains. Rumours reach them from all directions: the great men in Norway have collected an overwhelmingly great army to meet them as soon as they set foot on Norwegian soil. Prudent men in Sweden and from Norway warn against the audacious journey. A premonition of defeat spreads among the group, but this does not diminish the joy: this is what God wants! No warnings are of any avail. The king's will is set absolutely fast and undeviating. Something wonderful happens: this taciturn man opens up to his soldiers. On his way to martyrdom, he becomes happy and talkative, and gives joy to all who approach him.24
He has no sick desire to die. He does not ride without weapons and with bowed head down the Valley of Verdal in North Trøndelag: he is a warrior more than ever before. He has right on his side, and he will fight to win, urging his soldiers on to fight so that they can win the victory. But both the king and his men know that their chances are slim: the enemy has by far the superior force. The warriors' will must be prepared for defeat and death! When they come close to Stiklestad, the soldiers want to burn the farmers' farms, but the king refuses: «If we fall in battle, it is best not to go there with stolen goods.» The king gives money so that Requiem Masses can be celebrated for the members of the farmers'army who will die; those of the king's army who die in battle will not need Requiems. «They and we (my italics) «will all be saved together.» Tormod Kolbrunarskald wakens the army very early with a poem, and the king gives him a gold ring as his payment. Tormod thanks him with the following words: «We have a good king, but now it is not easy to say whether the king will have a long life. I have a request, o king, that you do not permit the two of us to be separated in life or in death» - and this is how things turned out. He tells the Stiklestad farmer: «If it should happen that I fall in this battle, then do my body the final service that is needed, provided you are not stopped from doing so». The kings premonition of his own death grows stronger, but it does not make him lose his calm. A short time before the battle begins, he lays his head in Finn Arneson's lap, falls asleep and dreams that he is climbing up a ladder that reaches up to heaven. When Olav wakens and tells Finn his dream, his faithful friend says: «I believe this is a warning that you are to die, if this was something more than a confused drowsiness that came over you.» The king tells his men that if they lose everything in the battle, God will give them a greater reward than joy in earthly goods. There is something both uncompromising and serene about the king just before the battle. He tells the army, «I want you to know this: I am not going to flee from this fight. Either I win victory over the farmers, or else I fall in the battle. I will ask that my fate be such as God sees to be the best for me.»
The kings fate is death. The battle grows keener, and Olav fights courageously. The farmers bring him down, and the bloody revenge is accomplished. The account of Olav's death has acquired splendour from his later halo as a saint. The king is struck a blow in his left leg: «When the king received this wound, he lent against a stone and threw away his sword, asking God to help him.» One must remark on this that no Norse warrior who was concerned about his own reputation would ever throw away his sword voluntarily, when he was only superficially wounded; and the words an exhausted king mumbles when he is losing his life under a hail of quick blows, are drowned in the din of the weapons. The pious tradition likes to paint its heroes in «details of martyrdom». Saint Olav does not need these, for he is a martyr.
