Scarcely was _Eric_, who, from his sanguinary actions, was surnamed the Bloody Axe (Blodöxe), the nominal sovereign of Norway, when he called on his brothers to recognise his title, and pay him the tributes which they had paid to his father. Instead of complying, Olaf and Sigurd exacted the usual tributes in their respective kingdoms,—an undoubted act of sovereignty. To chastise their presumption, the indignant Eric equipped an armament, and hastened to Tunsberg, the seat of their domination: he was met by the two kings on the declivity of a hill near the city; but, his forces being much superior in number, they were defeated and slain. The same fate would have befallen Trygve, the son of Olaf, and Godred the son of the murdered Biorn,—both nephews of Eric,—had they not consulted their safety by repairing to the inaccessible fastnesses of the uplands. The tyrant was now hated more intensely than before, and a majority of the people began to look for a deliverer of the race of the Ynglings. But where could one be found, seeing that all Eric’s brothers had either paid the debt of nature, or perished untimely? There was one exception to this fate: Hako, the last of Harald’s sons, was still alive, and in England. From our own historians, no less than from Snorro, it is evident that friendly relations had always subsisted between Athelstane of England and Harald, and that presents had passed between them. One of them was a magnificent sword, which Athelstane sent to Harald; and Harald, in return, sent a magnificent ship, with his infant son Hako to be educated in the polite court of the Saxon. This simple narrative has been much embellished by Snorro. He informs us that when the ambassador delivered the splendid sword to Harald, and the monarch had seized the handle, the ambassador exclaimed, “Now art thou the liege man of our lord the king, in that thou hast received his sword!”—alluding to the most ordinary symbol of investiture. The proud Norwegian was exasperated; but, on reflection, he retaliated in a manner equally ingenious. Causing a magnificent ship to be prepared, he despatched in it his son Hako, under the care of a trusty chief. On reaching the court of Athelstane, he entered the palace, and laying the young child—then about seven years of age—on the knees of the king, said, “King Harald commands thee to educate his bastard!” The facts are as we have represented them on the authority of English contemporary writers,—facts which an ancient chronicler of Norway, Theodric, also admits. The writers of both countries agree that Athelstane nobly discharged the duty which he had undertaken. Hako was educated well, was of course baptized, and taught the truths of Christianity; and in the English king he found a counsellor, a friend, a father. He was about fourteen when he heard of Harald’s death, and of his brother Eric’s accession. The following year brought him so many reports of Eric’s