The King Who Became a Pirate

When King Erik VII of Denmark was forced from the throne, he did the only thing any self-respecting descendent of Vikings could: He joined the warriors of the sea, and hit right back at his enemies.

Illustrations by Darya Malikova | Edited by Shawna Kenney

A shallow oak ship moved silently through the waters, heading north toward the massive fortress looming on the horizon. On board, King Erik VII kept an eye out for cannons, for signs of action or soldiers arming themselves. The narrow strait between Denmark and Sweden remained calm. Only the sound of whining seagulls and the occasional whisper of waves tapping the stern filled the early morning air.

Erik smiled as he lowered one knee to the deck and opened the lid of a wooden chest. The faint rays of the winter sun shone on its jeweled contents as he picked up the red-and-white scarf that lay on top: Dannebrog, the flag of Denmark — the oldest national flag in the world.

Soon the Danes would know. They would understand the full scale of Erik’s power and of his secret order of knights. His allies would rise and stand against the usurpers. The scum that had stolen his throne would feel his wrath. They had cast him out, made him a stranger and a fugitive from his own country, but he would be back. He would fight them at sea. Steal their goods, loot their ships and slaughter their men. He was still the king. It was his right. Those colors were his.

Erik looked back at his beloved Krogen, the great fortress he had built. Generations later, the same castle would be visited by Shakespeare’s theatrical troupes and immortalized as the setting for the Bard’s Hamlet. Hundreds of years after that, it would be declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. But to Erik, in 1438, it was the fortress he had built to protect himself and his kingdom. The fortress that secured the Øresund Strait, running between Denmark and Sweden, where taxes were collected from every ship that passed, carrying goods back and forth through the Baltic Sea. He had masterminded this tax system that now bestowed fortune upon his country, securing its position as a superpower of the North.

Yet now he was exiled. Erik’s eyes damned them all as he unfolded the red banner bearing the large white cross and let it billow in the wind. He raised the flag higher, shaking the colors in his hands as a final farewell to his home. The coast was clear. A few hours later, he would be among friends on the isle of Gotland — a harbor of worn seafarers and war-ravaged men who would come to his call and fight to help him get his throne back.

He was King Erik VII, and the Danish aristocracy would come to feel his wrath. He would be king again. He would prevail. So help him God.