High upon the loftingen, or poop royal, stood the majestic figure of the Norwegian king. He was clad in a full suit of armor, linked gold and steel, with a gilded helmet and shield. The tunic over his armor was of bright scarlet silk embroidered in gold. Even his waiting enemies could not but exclaim at the beauty of this vessel and the majesty of its commander.
“This glorious ship,” declared Earl Erik, “is but fitting for such a king as Olaf Tryggevesson, for it is truly said of him that he is distinguished above all other kings as the ‘Long Serpent’ above all other ships.”
In spite of the counsel of his high chieftains, who measured the terrible advantage of the enemy, and in spite of the pleadings of Thorgills, who in full armor stood beside his beloved master, King Olaf, after ordering the ships of his small fleet to be bound together for battle, began to prepare for an attack.
His voice rang as a trumpet over the waves: “Down with the sails! Never have I fled from battle! God rules over my life! Never will I fly, for he is no king who flies for fear of his foes.”
All the war-ships and the galleys of the three combatants began pouring out from behind the Island of Svolder, nearly a hundred craft that swarmed all over the water.
Olaf questioned Thorgills as one after another the war-ships came.
“What chieftain is that in front of us?”
