CAPITALS OF THE NORTHLANDS

THREE DEGREES FROM THE ARCTIC CIRCLE
TRONDHJEM CATHEDRAL

[Frontispiece

CAPITALS OF
THE NORTHLANDS

TALES OF TEN CITIES

BY

IAN C. HANNAH, M.A.

AUTHOR OF "EASTERN ASIA: A HISTORY," "THE SUSSEX COAST," "THE BERWICK AND LOTHIAN COASTS," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY EDITH BRAND HANNAH

HEATH CRANTON & OUSELEY, LTD.

FLEET LANE, LONDON, E.C.

TO
THE LOVED MEMORY
OF THE BEST OF MOTHERS
WITH WHOM I ONCE MADE A PILGRIMAGE
TO THE SHRINE OF ST. OLAF

PREFACE

Many excellent things have been written about the cities of the South, but little, comparatively speaking, about the cities of the North. True, indeed, they have not moulded kingdoms and shaped the culture of a continent, but England, like Scandinavia, is not a country city-built; she was formed by the dwellers on the land. Yet the less prominent part that they have played does not make our cities less noteworthy than those of the South.

Few and peculiarly interesting are the cities of the North. And, with the exception, perhaps, of St. Petersburg, those spoken of in this book have all the charm that comes because they were built by country-loving folk, to whom deep woods and open fields were lovelier than monumental streets and squares.

I shall not have written in vain if the perusal of this small book leads any one to study larger works on the Northlands, and particularly the matchless sagas, many of them so skilfully Englished by the joint labour of an Englishman and an Icelander, William Morris and Eirîkr Magnússon. In them we may read of all these ten towns, save that Copenhagen and St. Petersburg have risen in Saga Lands after the sagas were penned.

After accuracy I have striven hard, but if any reader should detect any error I should be grateful to have it pointed out for correction in a later edition.

I. C. H.

Fernroyd,

Forest Row.

CHAPTER I

THORSHAVN

Loud in Harfur's echoing bay,
Heard ye the din of battle bray,

'Twixt Kiotvi rich, and Harald bold?
Eastward sail the ships of war;
The graven bucklers gleam afar,

And dragon heads adorn the prows of gold.

Glittering shields of purest white,
And swords, and Celtic falchions bright,

And Western chiefs the vessels bring:
Loudly roar the wolfish rout,
And maddening Champions wildly shout,

And long and loud the twisted hauberks ring.

Firm in fight they proudly vie
With him whose might will make them fly,

Of Eastmen kings the warlike head.
Forth his gallant fleet he drew,
Soon as the hope of battle grew,

But many a buckler brake ere Long-chin bled.

Fled the lusty Kiotvi then
Before the Shock-head king of men,

And bade the islands shield his flight.
Warriors wounded in the fray,
Beneath the thwarts all gasping lay,

Where head-long cast they mourned the loss of light.

So does an Icelandic skald describe the most important battle in the annals of the Norse.[1] Harald Shock-head had exalted himself, and said "I will be king"