# The North Star/Chapter 21

XXI “FULL GOLD FOR HIM THAT FINDS JARL HAAKON”
Scarcely had Thora left the pig-sty when the noise of an advancing army brought terror to her heart. It seemed as if all the land of Orkadale was filled with armed men. Nearer and nearer they came. Thora entered the house, and gathered her thralls around her. They were filled with fright,—the women weeping and wringing their hands. All seemed helpless with fear, except the spinner in the dim corner, who smiled under her close-drawn veil, and never ceased the whirring of her wheel. Nearer came the army of peasants. Thora looked out upon the roadway, the dark path through the forests of Orkadale. They were coming, coming!—a hundred— nay, a thousand—ten thousand! Far down the road, line after line, row after row, horsemen, foot-soldiers, young, old, peasant, thrall and jarl, they swept onward, through the village of Rimul to Thora’s very door.
“Is is Odin or Thor come again to Norway?” asked the terrified women. Never had there been seen a man of such beauty, as he who came into view, the majestically handsome chief. He sat upon ​a milk-white charger, and his whole body was encased in shining armor. From his shoulders fell a long coat of vivid scarlet that lay blood-red upon the snowy flanks of his horse. On his shield of burnished steel was a golden cross, and a gilded helmet rested on his long, red-brown, flowing locks. A full beard swept over the broad chest. Taller than any man around him, full of grace and strength and fire, in every movement this viking seemed indeed of some greater world, and might well justify the Norsewomen’s belief that he had but freshly come from the home of the Valkyrias, and that his grace and valor and beauty had but lately delighted the hosts of Alruna maidens in the stately halls of Valhalla.
The chieftain sprang from his horse and stood at the portals. His followers gathered around him as he spoke to Thora. If her heart had been shaken at his appearance, it was even more shaken at his question, “Where is Jarl Haakon?”
Thora could not answer. Then the chieftain looked sternly at the trembling woman. “They told me that I should find him here. Disperse ye, my men, to find him.”
As his followers scattered all over the house and the fields, the chieftain turned to Thora. “I am Olaf Tryggevesson,” he said, “and Jarl Haakon hath held my place too long. He shall hold it no longer.”
For hours and hours they searched, passing and repassing the bridge of boards over the ditch. At ​last, when the vain search was abandoned, Olaf rose to speak to his followers. He stood upon the stone at the head of the ditch. The pigs ran and huddled into a corner of the sty. Earl Haakon and Kark almost feared to breathe as they heard Olaf’s words.
“We have come to find the false overlord of Norway and we have found him not. Jarl Haakon’s son, Erlend, has been slain in the Trondelag.” A groan escaped the hidden father, and Kark placed his hand over his master’s mouth. In the dim light the earl could see the glare of the thrall’s eyes. Olaf’s voice sounded again.
“I will crush out the whole nest of vipers. Full gold will I give to any vassal, jarl or hind or thrall, who will find the false overlord, Jarl Haakon of Hlade.”
A groan from the cowering earl was drowned this time in the great wave of sound that swept over them. “A wassail to Olaf Tryggevesson, our true king! Death to the false overlord of Hlade!”
Thora, standing in the doorway, almost fell down in fright. “The end hath come for us,” she muttered. “It is he—the North Star—Olaf Tryggevesson.”
The king came to Thora and bade her prepare a supper for his men. As Olaf passed into the large hall where the women had been gathered, the spinner in the dim corner sprang forward. Throwing aside her veil, she knelt at the king’s feet. “Pity! pity! my lord King!” she pleaded. “I am the wretched wife of Brynjulf, thy faithful vassal. The false jarl ​of Hlade dragged me from my home, and has kept me a prisoner.”
Olaf looked kindly down on the woman. He turned to Earl Sigvalde. “I remember me of two young striplings who came to me in the Trondelag the day I landed. They gave me their promise of allegiance, and showed much skill with their bows. They told me of their father, Brynjulf, and of their desire to take vengeance on Jarl Haakon because he had stolen their mother. Bid these youths come to me now, and I will restore their mother to them, and I will release them from serving until they have taken her home to their father.”
In a short while Aasa’s two sons were found, and their mother restored to them. “We will serve thee unto death, my King, with all our strength,” Aasa told Olaf in the exuberance of her gratitude. “Thou canst not desire nor ask aught, even to the last drop of our blood, that shall not be thine.”
The king smiled—that wonderful light on his beautiful face, that gleam in his flashing eyes, that won all hearts to his will. He touched the crucifix upon his breast. “Thou and thine will serve me with all fealty as your earthly king, but there is a greater King, my Master and thy Master, and I would that thou and thine should serve the great King of the Christians’ Heaven.”
Aasa looked puzzled. “I will serve thee, my King—” but Olaf interrupted her:
​“Nay, thou dost not now understand, but when the teacher of the law of Christ the White shall come to thy home, remember the Lord Jesus is the King of all kings.”
Aasa bowed her head. Then with her two sons she went forth to begin her journey to Gauldale, to the desolate home of Brynjulf.