everything he met, irresistible by any horse or man, till an arrow cut
him through the windpipe, and laid him low forever. That was the end
of King Harald and of his workings in this world. The circumstance
that he was a Waring or Baring and had smitten to pieces so many
Oriental cohorts or crowds, and had made love-verses (kind of iron
madrigals) to his Russian Princess, and caught the fancy of
questionable Greek queens, and had amassed such heaps of money, while
poor nephew Magnus had only one gold ring (which had been his
father's, and even his father's _mother's_, as Uncle Harald noticed),
and nothing more whatever of that precious metal to combine with
Harald's treasures:--all this is new to me, naturally no hint of it in
any English book; and lends some gleam of romantic splendor to that
dim business of Stamford Bridge, now fallen so dull and torpid to most
English minds, transcendently important as it once was to all
Englishmen. Adam of Bremen says, the English got as much gold plunder
from Harald's people as was a heavy burden for twelve men;[18] a thing
evidently impossible, which nobody need try to believe. Young Olaf,
Harald's son, age about sixteen, steering down the Ouse at the top of
his speed, escaped home to Norway with all his ships, and subsequently
reigned there with Magnus, his brother. Harald's body did lie in
English earth for about a year; but was then brought to Norway for
burial. He needed more than seven feet of grave, say some;
Laing, interpreting Snorro's measurements, makes Harald eight feet in
stature,--I do hope, with some error in excess!



CHAPTER XII.

OLAF THE TRANQUIL, MAGNUS BAREFOOT, AND SIGURD THE CRUSADER.