aten and dispersed.

This striking success gave new courage and hope to the Birchlegs and they
came in numbers to the place to which Sverre had summoned a body of
twelve representatives from the province of Troendelag. These met and
proclaimed him king of Norway. It was now the summer of 1177.

The Birchlegs were hasty in supposing the beating of fourteen hundred
peasants would bring success to their cause. Erling Skakke was still
alive and active, and on hearing of the exploits of this new leader of
rebels in the north, he got together a large fleet and sailed northward
to deal with him.

The new-proclaimed king was too wary to meet this powerful force and he
sought refuge in the mountains again, leaving to Erling the dominion of
the coast. And now, for two years, Sverre and his men led a precarious
life, wandering hither and thither through the mountain wilderness and
suffering the severest privations. He was like a Robin Hood of the
Norwegian mountains, loving to play practical jokes on the peasants, such
as appearing with his hungry horde at their Yuletide feasts and making
way with the good cheer they had provided for themselves. He was obliged
to forage in the valleys, but he took pity on the poor and more than once
made the great suffer for acts of oppression.

Everywhere he was hated as a desperate brigand; some believed him to be
the devil himself. Naughty children were scared with the threat that the
terrible Sverre would take them, and laundresses, beating their clothes
at the river's brink, devoutly wished that Sverre's head was under the
stone. Yet his undaunted resolution, his fights with the king's soldiers,
his skirmishes with the peasants, and his boldness and daring in all
situations, won him a degree of admiration even among those who feared
and hated him.

Thus for two years his adventurous career went on. Then came an event
that turned the tide in his favor. Erling was still pursuing him and in
June, 1179, was in the coast town of Nidaros, his son, Magnus, with him.
In the harbor lay the fleet. The earl and the king were feasting with
their followers when word was brought them that the Birchlegs were
approaching.

"I wish it was true," said the earl. "I should like nothing better than
to meet that hound Sverre. But there will be no such good luck to-night,
for I am told that the rascals have gone back to the mountains. You can
go to bed in safety, for Sverre will not dare to trouble us when we