Rallying from all quarters under the banner of Guthrun, nephew of Eric, they attacked the apostate king near Flensburg, in Jutland. The battle raged for three days, and at its close Eric and Guthrun, and a host of kings and jarls lay dead upon the field; and so tremendous had been the slaughter, that the entire Viking nobility seemed to have been utterly exterminated.
The new king, Eric II., easily persuaded that the recent reverses were entirely due to the apostasy of his predecessor, ordered one of Anskar's churches to be closed, and forbade all further missionary operations. After a while, however, he was induced to change his policy, and Anskar, on his return from Sweden, was reinstated in the royal favour, and received a grant of land for the erection of a second church at Ripe, in Jutland, over which he placed Rembert, his favourite disciple, charging him to win the hearts of his barbarous flock by the sincerity and devotion of his life.
Anskar now returned to Hamburg, and devoted himself to the administration of his diocese. One of the latest acts of his life was a noble effort to check the infamous practice of kidnapping and trading in slaves. A number of native Christians had been carried off by the northern pirates, and reduced to slavery. Effecting their escape, they sought refuge in the territory of Northalbingia. Instead of sheltering the fugitives, some of the chiefs retained a portion of them as their own slaves, and sold others to heathen, and even professedly Christian tribes around. News of this reached Anskar, and at the risk of his life he sternly rebuked the chiefs and succeeded in inducing them to set the captives free, and to ransom as many as possible from the bondage into which they had sold them.
This noble act formed an appropriate conclusion to his life. He was now more than sixty-four years of age, and during more than half that period had laboured unremittingly in the mission field. His friend and biographer expatiates eloquently on his character, as exhibiting the perfect model of ascetic perfection. Even when elevated to the episcopal dignity, he never exempted himself from the rigid discipline of the cloister. He wore a haircloth shirt by night as well as by day. He measured out his food and drink by an exact rule. He chanted a fixed number of Psalms, alike when he arose in the morning and when he retired to rest at night. His charity knew no bounds. Not only did he erect a hospital at Bremen for the sick and needy, distribute a tenth of his income among the poor, and divide amongst them any presents he might receive, but every five years he tithed his income afresh, that he might be quite sure the poor had their proper share. Whenever he went on a tour of visitation through his diocese, he would never sit down to dinner, without first ordering some of the poor to be brought in, and he himself would sometimes wash their feet, and distribute amongst them bread and meat.