On his part, Olaf of Norway was no less desirous of peace. The internal state of his kingdom was far from satisfactory. Many of his subjects, however they might outwardly conform to Christianity, were still pagans, and practised their rites in secret. In a tour through the uplands, in the summer of 1018, he discovered many whom the severity of his predecessor and his own had rendered apostates;—many who had been forced to receive baptism, but who, on the departure of their tyrant, had insensibly relapsed to their ancient faith. Great was his wrath at the discovery, and he evinced it in a manner worthy of the age. Some of the delinquents—those, probably, who had any substance to fill his coffers—he banished for ever; the hands and feet of some he mutilated; others he blinded; some he beheaded; others he suspended from lofty gibbets. In short, says the historian, “he did not spare one that refused to serve God.” These enormities were not to be borne. Even those who had conscientiously embraced Christianity revolted at them; and, as many had relations and friends whom no argument could induce to forsake their hereditary errors, a spirit of discontent, a smothered cry for vengeance, was soon heard in the lonely defiles of the mountains. Five upland kings,—for the royal title had been left to them by Olaf, and, we may infer, so also had their religion,—Ruric of Raumarik, Gudred of the Dales, Ring of Hedmark, with the kings of Hadaland and Ringarik, entered into a secret conspiracy against his authority and life. _They_ had not been injured by him; but their friends and kindred had been his victims: and who could say how long they should be spared? It was, at length, agreed to fall upon him in his passage through Hedmark. Sending spies to watch his motions, they hastened to a point on the road through which he had to pass, and named its vicinity as the place where their own followers should join them. However safe this secret might have been, so long as it was confined to the kings alone, when communicated to the inferior chiefs, whose co-operation was necessary, it could scarcely remain undivulged. Ketil, one of the chiefs whom Olaf had befriended, proceeded to meet the king, and acquaint him with the danger before him. At a solitary house near the lake Miors, in the higher regions of Raumarik, Olaf was acquainted with the meditated deed. With about 400 men, he instantly departed for the villa where the five kings were, and arrived there long before their followers. Approaching it at midnight, he caused it to be surrounded by his little band, so as to prevent ingress or egress; and, at the early dawn, all were in his power. Ruric, the soul of the conspiracy, was doomed to the loss of both eyes; Gudred, to the loss of his tongue; the remaining three were exiled, on their promise never to revisit Norway. The inferior actors did not escape punishment; some being mutilated, others exiled; but the majority, who