The Saga of Fairhair

 Little Harald was playing in the courtyard with his friends- all children of the noblemen and ministers in his father’s court. It was freezing, and a strong and chilly wind was blowing. They knew it could snow at any time soon. They had kept their fur near the pillars of the courtyard. The approaching sound of horses’ gallops diverted their attention and interrupted their game of hide-and-seek. Harald, all of 10, had the princely aura that, with one wave of his hand, made all his friends stopped and looked beyond the huge iron gate of the palace. Leading the horsemen was the kingdom’s Head of the general of the army. His sunken face and bloodshot eyes could not escape the little prince’s observant nature. Was he bearing any bad news? The General looked at him with a face of pity and proceeded towards the court, to the King’s brother, Guthorm. Guthorm, the Wise, was a learned and knowledgeable regent whom even his elder brother, King Halfden the Black, sought advice from. The General proceeded and said something in the regent’s ear, upon hearing which he almost froze, looking at the entrance of the court. His eyes were blank, but a single drop of tears pierced out from the corner. Standing at the entrance was his most adored nephew, Harald, looking anxiously at him. Could he sense something?

King Halfdan the Black was the king of Vestfold. His kingdom was small, but his ambition was big. His persistent conquests in small surrounding kingdoms had earned him the reputation of a feared ruler. Some of his notable conquests included the entire area of Raumarike and, later, half of Hedmark. That was a huge achievement for a small king like him. He was eyeing several other areas around, and with the strength of his brother’s advice and his efficient army, he was sure to expand his kingdom considerably within a short period of time. But now, everything has come to a standstill, after what the Head of General bore the news of. Halfden the Black had lost his life by drowning in the fragile ice-covered lake of Randsfjorden while returning from Hadeland. His horse-pulled sledge slipped and broke through the ice deep inside the lake’s water, before his men could save him. It was unexpected and sudden, and a big blow to the kingdom’s future. Harald ran towards his uncle Gurham. The tears did not escape his eyes, and the intelligent prince knew it was about his father. Gurham bent down to hug his little nephew. “Don’t worry, you will always find me beside you.”

Gurham went inside the palace, carrying Harald along with him. He was hesitant, but he had to break the sad news to the Queen now. The Queen was writing something on her desk. Upon Gurham’s entry, she rose and bowed as standard practice. “Wise Gurham, my brother-in-law, what brings you here?”

“Oh, Queen, I am afraid I bring some bad news today, and you need to be strong enough to withstand that.” Gurham tried to calm down his voice.

By this time, Harald had run to his mother and was sobbing, leaning against her waist. The Queen looked at Gurham. “How did it happen?”

And Gurham explained. It was now a great task for him to break the news to everyone and think about the future. He looked at Harald with hopeful eyes and a wishful vision of a future nobody could have ever thought of, not even his ambitious elder brother.

It took Gurham a few more days to convince the ministers and generals to crown Harald as the next king. After almost two weeks, the 10-year-old Harald sat on his father’s throne trying to balance the crown on his little head. While one of the guests could not control his laughter, looking at his hilarious attempts to fix the too-large crown, Harald stood and pointed his finger at him.

“What was the joke all about, our valued guest? Let us also know about it and enjoy.” The little Harald’s curious question compelled the guest to reply in a rather amusing tone.

“It’s nothing, my little prince, your crown appears to be too big for your head,” he again laughed out.

“I see. Come close to me. Let’s talk.”

As the guest approached Harald, the 10-year-old handed him the crown.

“By tomorrow, fix this crown so that it fits my head exactly. I am least bothered by how you do it; do it. And yes, I am your King; if you don’t obey my orders, you will be doomed from my kingdom. Now I don’t want to see your face till you return with the fixed crown. From next time, if you laugh at your King, that would be considered a punishable crime.” Harald’s commanding voice silenced the court, and the guests bowed down before him.

“I am sorry, my Lord. Pardon me for my arrogance. It is for the first time that I am seeing such a small boy as a ruler.”

“Then get used to seeing this small boy from now on, because there will be a day when he will rule the entire 'Northern Way ’. Prepare yourself for that day.” He raised his right hand along with the last sentence.

The entire court stood up and cheered their new King.

From that day, Gurham’s only mission was to turn this boy into an able ruler. At just 10 years old, he had the courage and vision of a conqueror, the command and voice of a great ruler and a hawk eye for justice. As a teacher, he had to guide him to channel everything in the right direction so that he would not get distracted from his vision. And thus began Harald’s intense training. He arranged the best scholars of the land and nearby kingdoms to teach him history, science and philosophy. The best of soldiers and generals were given charge of training him in the details of the battlefields.  And he took charge of providing him with daily classes about statesmanship. Although it was too much for the little Harald, his determination and enthusiasm convinced his uncle, Gurham the Wise, that he had taken the right decision.

Within the next 10 years, King Harald extended his kingdom considerably, under the guidance of his uncle. He had become a handsome, fearless ruler, known as a go-getter. By the time he turned 20, Harald’s mother was getting restless to get him married. Harald searched for a bride among the local noblemen’s and generals’ daughters, nieces and sisters. But he was not someone to be restricted to one place, so he went out of his kingdom in search of a suitable bride.

Gyda, of Hordaland, was a noblewoman, respected by everyone for her outstanding wit and wisdom. She was a lady of honour; every nobleman and nearby ruler wanted to marry her. But she was different. She learned and nourished herself, enriching and satisfying her soul. She was not looking to marry any petty king. When Gyda’s wisdom and beauty reached Harald’s ears, without even seeing her once, he decided to send his messenger to the enchanting lady. He intended to ask for her hand in marriage.

“Harald, a petty king of a petty kingdom, Vestfold? No, thank you. I am not interested. Tell him I will only marry the person who would rule over the entire “Northern Land”. Gyla sent away the messenger.

 Upon hearing this, Harald went still. He gestured for everyone to leave and remained in his chamber for the rest of the day. In the evening, he opened his doors and called for all the generals of the army.

“My brave men, are we brave enough to expand our kingdom?” his voice reverberated in the hall.

“Yes, Lord,” the generals replied.

“Are we brave enough to rule the entire Northern Lands?” he raised his voice further.

“Yes, Lord, we are,” Said the generals. Their echo filled every corner of the hall and beyond the palace.

Every passerby heard their voice; their oath reached every soul that was around- a sign of the universe’s agreement with the strongest of vows ever taken in the land.

Harald untied his shiny braided hair. As he walked into the open, the blond lustrous strands hung around his shoulders, flying haywire in the strong wind. As the horizon turned deep red with the setting sun, his sturdy stature resembled a hungry lion, its eyes set on its prey. “I also take the oath not to clean, cut, comb or groom my hair till I rule the Northern lands. This land will be mine, and so would you, Gyda.” his roar reached the Gods residing in the sky.

For the next 10 years, Harald set his eyes on conquering all the nearby kingdoms, one by one. His unruly, long blonde hair moved like the mane of a lion each time he won over his enemies. People started to fear him. Many small kingdoms and Viking chieftains came together to fight against Harald the Lufa, as he earned his nickname for his now coarse and matte hair. Finally, a huge naval battle took place in the coastal area of Hafrsfjord. It went on for days, and at last, Harald emerged victorious, winning over almost all Viking rulers and chieftains of the Northern Lands. All the soldiers declared Harald as the ruler of the entire Northern Lands, and the brave king finally tied his unruly hair.

“Long live the ruler of the Northern Lands. Long live Harald Fairhair, long live our king.” His army called out in glory of the mightiest ruler to have ever walked on their land. Their pride and praise for their supreme ruler were later written as ballads and poems.

But there was still one very important work left for Harald Fairhair. He went to Hordaland and reached Gyda’s chambers. None of the guards could stop the mighty King. He went and took Gyda in his arms.

“As you wanted, the entire Northern Land belongs to me now. It’s your turn to be mine. Come with me and marry me, be my Queen, Gyda.” He murmured in a soft voice.

And thus, the Saga of Harald the Fairhair, the first king of Norway, started.

 

Dr Deshpande finished her last Legend and was waiting for Sunaina to ask questions.

Sunaina stopped recording and, as usual, took out her notepad. “Dadi, is this story true? Was this how Norway formed?”

“The major information about Harald Fairhair has been found in Heimskringla- the Saga of Old Swedish and Norwegian rulers. Although there is still no solid evidence of authorship, some believe that the Icelandic Knight Snorri Sturluson penned the Heimskringla in 1230, she said.

“Oh, Dadi, I am so happy today. I will start the project from this evening. All the 6 legends are truly remarkable. Oh, my lovely Dadi. You deserve an Oscar for storytelling.” Sunaina hugged her grandmother.

“That I might, if you write these tales someday as a book. What say?” She made a high-five pact with Sunaina.

“Done deal.” The 13-year-old responded with another high-five.

 

This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon.

Check out 

Part 1: Dr Deshpande's Dainty Tales

Part 2: The Buckriders of Limburg

Part 3: The Mystery of Puteri Gunung Ledang

Part 4: King Vijaya of Simhala

Part 5: The Firangi Pirates of Sundarbans

Part 6: The Saga of Fairhair