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XXVIII

The Death of the King

The History of King Sweyn Estridsson and His Sons and of the Martyrdom of King Canute the Holy

When the bravest of the defenders had driven the hostile ranks back from the doors of the basilica, the attackers turned toward the eastern end of the sanctuary, where they had seen the most devout prince deep in prayer. With swords and axes they set about hacking and tearing down the doorposts, and they cast to the ground the shrines containing the relics of the precious martyrs — Alban and Oswald — together with the holy cross set between them, as the collapsing doorframe gave way.

At that moment, as the heavenly bridegroom was already calling the king — soon to be made a sharer in divine mysteries — into the eternal chamber, the most illustrious ruler stood with both heart and face turned toward the altar. Then one of the impious mob thrust a spear through a window, piercing his side and staining the sacred building with the blood of the innocent.

Yet even after receiving the mortal wound, he did not forget Christ. Embracing his brother Benedict, his companion in struggle, who stood nearby grievously wounded, he exchanged with him the kiss of peace. Then, stretching out his arms in the form of a cross and laying his body upon the ground before the holy altar, as blood flowed from the wound in his side, he still had breath enough to call upon Jesus. Committing his spirit to his Creator, he left behind the precious ground, consecrated by his blood, and entered the hidden refuge of eternal mercy, there to rest forever from these tumults.

His steadfast companions, seeing their leader slain, did not yield to the enemy. Instead, they encouraged one another, summoned their strength, met those who burst in through the openings without hesitation, answered weapon with weapon, repaid blow for blow, and chose rather to fall gloriously than to survive after losing so great a prince. As the hostile crowd continued to grow in number, they were not merely struck down but overwhelmed in turn by the attackers. The sacred building was drenched with blood, the floor of the temple flooded like water, and the prophetic word was fulfilled:

“The nations have entered your inheritance;

they have defiled your holy temple;

they have poured out the blood of your saints all around.”

Therefore it is no wonder — as will be shown later — that they “became a reproach to their neighbors, a mockery and a derision to those around them, a shaking of the head among the peoples.”

For who would not detest a devout prince attacked and hunted by a profane populace? Who would not curse a king slain by his own people?

To recall a few examples from antiquity: Greece endured Agamemnon, harsh as he was, who for ten years and more held the Argives in war by land and sea. Spain tolerated Hannibal, ferocious and stained with the blood of nobles. Judea endured Herod, who persecuted the author of light and creator of all, made little of the crime of kinslaying, imprisoned nobles, and impiously slaughtered innocent infants torn from their mothers’ breasts. Rome herself, the head of the world, endured Nero, most cruel of all, who cut into his mother’s body with the sword, murdered his brother, set the city aflame, and destroyed senators and fathers of the world.

But Denmark could not endure a devout prince — one who practiced divine worship, proclaimed what was useful and honorable, and sought to restrain the common people from base and servile conduct.

O accursed pride! O detestable stubbornness! O stiff-necked people! Because you refuse to bend in the present, you are reserved to be bent and broken by eternal punishments. For when you drove from this life the one who rebuked your vices, you deprived yourselves of the hope of eternal blessedness. And you, who exalted yourselves above other peoples not by virtue but by arrogance, proved yourselves by these acts more faithless, more wretched, and more detestable than all.

For when you refused to submit to the authority of a prince set over you by God, you handed yourselves over to the dominion of the one whom Scripture declares to be “king over all the sons of pride.” But the one who dwells on high and looks upon the lowly, who sees the exalted from afar, cannot be deceived. He who strengthens the humble and threatens the proud also says in the Gospel: “Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

And when Peter, the chief of the apostles, proclaims, “Fear God, honor the king,” with what face do you claim to fear God and honor the king, when you scorn to render the honor divinely commanded to royal authority?

Indeed, beyond any doubt, the rebuke once spoken by Isaiah against the ancient people — and repeated by the Lord Jesus against the Jews — is shown to apply to you as well:

“This people honors me with their lips,

but their heart is far from me.

They worship me in vain,

teaching human doctrines and commandments.”

For who does not know that you praise the Christian faith eloquently with words and speech, yet place your own statutes above divine law? And who is unaware that you do not merely disregard the faith and its teachers, but actively attack them with deceit, cunning, fraud, and envy?

For your faith, according to the witness of James, is dead without works. Even if you sometimes appear to perform deeds consistent with faith, it is evident that you do so no less for human favor than for the reward of the Father who sees in secret. Therefore, having received the praise of people and your temporal reward, you forfeit eternal recompense.

But having written enough about the faithlessness and misery of the wicked, let us return to the course of events we have set out to recount.