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him at a
convenient distance, and one by one the courtiers
followed the King, and after a few falls on the ice
they all got safe to Ely. And for the good deed
which he had done, King Canute made fat Brithmer,
who was but a serf before, a free man, and gave unto
him some free lands which his posterity held and
enjoyed a long time afterwards.
ABOUT forty years after the death of the brave
Athelstan, the kingdom of England came to a boy
whose name was Ethelred. He was but ten years
old when he became king, and during all his
reign he and his people were in great trouble.
So ill did he rule that men called him the
"Unready." i Every year the Danes grew more and
more powerful. Sometimes the King tried to drive
them out of England by force of arms, but he was
often defeated. Sometimes he bribed them by
large sums of money to go away. They took the
money and went away, but very soon came back
again. At last he tried what was the very worst
and most wicked way of all. He sent secretly to
the rulers and magistrates throughout the
kingdom that on a certain day it was the 13th
day of November in the year 1002 "all the Danish
men in England should be slain." These Danish
men were living in peace among the English; many
of them had married English wives. On the
morning of this day this evil deed was done ;
all indeed were not killed, but many thousands
were, and women also, and among these the sister
of King Sweyn of Denmark. The last thing that
this lady said was this : "My death will bring
many wars upon England." And so indeed it came
to pass.
Year
after year the Danes came and ravaged the land.
Sometimes King Sweyn came with them, sometimes
he sent other chiefs. At last, eleven years
after the death of his sister, he came with a
fleet greater and more splendid than had ever
been seen before. The beaks of the ships were of
brass, and under the beaks were figure-heads,
finely carved and painted, of men and bulls and
dolphins. On the mast-heads were figures of
birds and dragons to serve for weathercocks, and
the sterns were adorned with golden lions. The
King brought with him his son Canute, of whom I
am to tell in this story.'
For
six months or more King Sweyn went through the
land with his army, doing such damage as no army
had ever done before. The English could not
stand up against him ; as for King Ethelred, he
fled over the sea to France. Sweyn indeed was
King of England, but the crown was never put
upon his head, for on Candlemas Day he died
suddenly. Of the manner of his death the men of
the time told this story. I have spoken before
of a certain town in the East country which was
called St. Edmundsbury, after King Edmund. There
had been built in the town a house for monks, in
honour of the King. Sweyn sent messengers to say
that he would burn both the town and the monks'
house with fire, and slay all their inhabitants,
unless he should receive a great ransom for
their lives. And when the people of the town
sent to the King at Gainsborough, in the county
of Lincoln, praying that he would not ask so
great a sum of money, for that they were not
able to pay it, he said the same things again
with greater violence. When he had spoken, it
seemed to him that King Edmund suddenly appeared
in the midst of the council, no man seeing him
except himself, and that he thrust him through
with a spear of gold that he carried in his
hand. Men said also that before he died he sent
for his son Canute, and bade him rule England
prudently and justly.
The
Danes chose Canute to be King, but the English
were not content that a foreigner should reign
over them, and sending to Ethelred, where he was
in France, prayed him to come back. So Ethel-red
returned, and marching into the East country
where Canute still was, compelled him to take to
his ships and sail away. The next year he came
back with more ships and men than before, and
there was war again till Ethelred died.
Thereupon Canute was crowned King by command of
an assembly that met at Southampton, but
Ethelred's son, Edmund, who was called Ironside
by reason of his valour, was also crowned in
London.
Canute sailed up the Thames, having a fleet of
more than three hundred ships. When he came to
London he found that he could not pass the
bridge,1 so strongly was it held against him.
Thereupon he caused a canal to be dug on the
south side of the river, and by this took some
of his ships to the other side of the bridge.
But when he tried to take the town, the citizens
beat him back from the walls, killing many of
his men.
After this the two Kings met in battle at
Sherston. 2 Edmund put his best and bravest
warriors in the front line, and he himself took
his place in front of all, for none was better
or braver than he. All day long the two armies
fought, neither winning the victory. That night
they rested on the field of battle, and on the
morrow, when the day dawned, they fought again.
And now the English began to drive back their
enemies, when there went through the army the
report that King Edmund had been slain. It was a
traitor that set the report about. When King
Edmund heard it, he mounted to the top of a
hill, and taking off his helmet, showed himself
to the people, that they might see that he was
yet alive. It is said also that seeing the
traitor who had first told the false news, he
threw his spear at him. He indeed warded it off
with his shield, but it pierced the man that
stood by his side, and wounded two others also,
so great was the strength of the Iron-side.
Seven times in that year did Edmund fight with
Canute, and the last and fiercest fight of all
was at Assandun. Canute made as if he would get
to his ships, and Edmund seeing this charged him
sword in hand at the head of his men. And now
again the English might have won the day, but
that a traitor, the very same that had spread
the false report of the King's death, fled from
the battle with his followers. So their line was
broken ; nevertheless they still held out, even
till the end of the day, and till far into the
night. Then at last Edmund the Ironside was
constrained to leave the field. That day the
flower of the English race perished.
Even
so King Edmund did not lose heart. He gathered
together another army, and would have fought
again, but that all the land was weary of the
war. So these two, Canute and Edmund, met on an
island in the Severn, and agreed to divide the
kingdom between them ; Edmund was to rule the
South, Canute the North. But before the year was
out King Edmund died, some said of poison, and
the whole kingdom came to Canute, for it had
been agreed that whoever of the two should live
the longer, should have the whole.
And
now Canute the Dane set himself with all his
heart to become a true English king. The traitor
that had played King Edmund false was rightly
punished for his wrong-doing. It is said that he
even boasted to the King that he had not only
deserted Edmund in the hour of need, but had
also slain him. Thereupon the King cried out,"
Therefore you shall die, for you are guilty of
treason both to God and to me." And the traitor
was slain. When Canute was crowned King, he
swore that he would do justice between man and
man, and that he would himself be obedient to
the laws. And this he did. So, when in a fit of
rage he slew with his own hand one of the
"house-caries," 1 he declared that he would pay
the fine that was set on the shedding of blood.
In those days when a man was slain, the slayer
paid a fine according to the rank of the man. So
the King said to the house-caries, " Say what
fine I must pay for the killing of your
comrade." And when they, fearing to judge the
King, would not say, he fixed the fine for
himself, making it nine times greater than what
it should have been of right. And what the King
did for himself, that he commanded all that were
in authority under him to do for others. The
poor were to be protected against the
wrong-doing of the rich ; all men were to be
judged justly but with mercy ; above all,
Englishmen and Danes were to live at peace with
each other, forgetting all grudges and injuries.
And
as he did his duty to man, so he did it also to
God, judging that it was from Him that he had
his kingdom ; this he showed in the manner that
I will now tell. On a certain day, when he was
at the very height of his power, he commanded
that they should set his royal chair on the
sea-shore. On this he sat, his courtiers
standing about him. Then he spoke to the tide as
it flowed, " Thou art my subject, and this land
on which I have set my chair is mine ; never
bath there been any one that refused to obey my
bidding, and having so refused, escaped without
punishment. I command thee therefore that thou
come no further on to my land, and that thou
presume not to wet the garments and limbs of thy
lord." And when the tide, rising after its wont,
came up and had no respect to the King's
command, but wetted his feet and his legs, then
the King, leaping from his seat, cried aloud, "
Let all men know henceforth that the power of
kings is an empty and foolish thing, and that no
one is in very truth worthy to bear this name of
King, saving Him only whose bidding the earth
and the sea and all that in them is obey
according to everlasting laws." After that day
Canute would never again put his crown upon his
head, but put it on the image of the crucified
Christ.
The
King greatly honoured the clergy, and gave great
gifts to churches and abbeys. At Assandun, where
he vanquished King Edmund, he caused a church to
be built, that was notable for being built of
stone, for in those days they were mostly built
of wood. On the church of St. Edmund and on many
others he and his Queen Emma bestowed much
wealth. Among these was the great Church or
Cathedral of Ely. They say that one day as he
was passing in his boat by this church he made
these verses that follow---
"The
Ely monks sang clear and high,
As King Canute was passing by ;
'Row near the doors and hear them sing,'
Cried to his knights Canute the King."
Minstrels he loved greatly, and rewarded with
generous gifts, as will be seen from this story.
Among those who came to his Court was a certain
man from Iceland, where in those days poetry and
learning greatly flourished. When the King came
into the hall he said, " I see one here who is
not of this country ; he has the look of a poet,
yes, and of a fighter too, for I would sooner
have him as my comrade in battle than any other
man here." When the minstrel from Iceland heard
these words he sang these verses ---
" To
Cnut the Dane I tune my lay ;
English and Irish own his sway,
And many an island in the sea ;
So let us sing his praise that he
Be known of men in every land
To where heaven's lofty pillars stand."
This
done he said to the King, "Suffer me to speak a
poem that I have made in your honour." " You
shall," said the King, "at our next meeting." So
the next day there was a great gathering. When
the poet from Iceland repeated his poem, the
King highly praised it, then he took off from
his head a Russian cap that he wore ; it was
broidered with gold, and had golden knots to it.
"Fill this with silver," said he to his
Chamberlain, " and give it to the poet." This
the Chamberlain would have done, but because
there was a great crowd of men, he had to reach
it over their shoulders. So the silver was
turned out of the cap on to the floor. But when
the poet stooped to pick it up, the King said,
"Let it be ; the poor will be the better for it,
and thou shalt not lose."
King
Canute died when he was but little more than
forty years old. His subjects greatly lamented
him, for never was a king who better kept his
oath to deal truly with his people.
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