T.

King Magnus sailed with his fleet from the south after Svein to Seeland;
but as soon as the king came there Svein fled up the country with his
men, and Magnus followed them, and pursued the fugitives, killing all
that were laid hold of. So says Thiodolf:--

"The Seeland girl asks with fear,
'Whose blood-bespattered shield and spear--
The earl's or king's--up from the shore
Moved on with many a warrior more?'
We scoured through all their muddy lanes,
Woodlands, and fields, and miry plains.
Their hasty footmarks in the clay
Showed that to Ringsted led their way.

"Spattered with mud from heel to head,
Our gallant lord his true men led.
Will Lund's earl halt his hasty flight,
And try on land another fight?
His banner yesterday was seen,
The sand-bills and green trees between,
Through moss and mire to the strand,
In arrow flight, leaving the land."

Then Svein fled over to Fyen Island, and King Magnus carried fire and
sword through Seeland, and burnt all round, because their men had joined
Svein's troop in harvest. So says Thiodolf:--

"As Svein in winter had destroyed
The royal house, the king employed
No little force to guard the land,
And the earl's forays to withstand.
An armed band one morn he found,
And so beset them round and round,
That Canute's nephew quickly fled,
Or he would have been captive led.

"Our Throndhjem king in his just ire
Laid waste the land with sword and fire,
Burst every house, and over all
Struck terror into great and small.
To the earl's friends he well repaid
Their deadly hate--such wild work made
On them and theirs, that from his fury,
Flying for life, away they hurry."

33. BURNING IN FYEN.

As soon as King Magnus heard that Svein with his troops had gone across
to Fyen, he sailed after them; and when Svein heard this news he went
on board ship and sailed to Scania, and from thence to Gautland, and at
last to the Swedish King. King Magnus landed in Fyen, and plundered and
burned over all; and all of Svein's men who came there fled far enough.
Thiodolf speaks of it thus:--

"Fiona isle, once green and fair,
Lies black and reeking through the air:
The red fog rises, thick and hot,
From burning farm and smouldering cot.
The gaping thralls in terror gaze
On the broad upward-sp