had only acted in obedience to their chiefs, were pardoned. The domains which all had held since the days of Olaf Trygveson, were next invaded, and annexed to the crown. If this was a cruel, it was a politic step; it rendered Olaf not merely the nominal, but the only, king of Norway.[244] [Sidenote: 1019.] Of the two kings who were thus retained in the country, Olaf feared Ruric only, whom he always took with him. Ruric had his servants, his regal apparel, and his high seat at the table. He was noted for his revengeful disposition, and for his taciturnity. His domestics were so ill-treated that they refused to remain with him, until Sweyn, one of his own kindred, and formerly his vassal, was placed near him. It was now his constant object to prevail on Sweyn to join him in the murder of Olaf, and the man at length consented. One evening, as the king was going to vespers, Sweyn took his station at the gate, with a sword concealed beneath his cloak. But he had not courage to strike; and his agitation was such as to attract the notice of his intended victim. “Why that troubled countenance, Sweyn? Hast thou a design on my life?” Throwing away his sword, and letting his cloak fall behind him, the domestic knelt, and could only say, “To God and thee, O king, I resign myself!” He was immediately fettered; but was soon released and exiled. The only punishment inflicted on Ruric was, that his chair was taken from the royal table, and placed in another apartment; that his bed was removed to a less honourable place, and two domestics ordered to attend him night and day. After this event, he grew moody and capricious: sometimes he talked with amazing volubility, and, what was more important (for his talents were great), with wit or judgment, as the humour predominated; at other times a sullen taciturnity for days together, rendered him as disagreeable as he had before been captivating. When in these moody fits, he was evidently devising the means of revenge, or at least of escape. One night, when Ruric had retired to rest, somewhat intoxicated, a man called the Little Finn, who had been his domestic in his prosperous days, entered the apartment, with a large vessel of mead. This he presented to all the domestics who slept in the same apartment as his master, and it was so potent that it immediately sent them to sleep,—the more easily as they were previously half drunk. In a short time, Ruric awoke his two guards, under the pretext that he wanted to go outside the house. Rubbing their eyes, and gaping, they accompanied him, but were immediately slain by twelve men whom the Little Finn had brought to the spot, and who hurried the king on board a vessel which lay near the shore. One of the royal party, having occasion to visit the court-yard, found the two corpses yet bleeding and warm. In great alarm, he awoke Thord, the bearer of the royal banner, and acquainted him with the tragedy which had just been perpetrated.