Behind The Galleries:
Tales of the Unconnected
Blog post #20
31 October 2022
#20 Tallinn: The Legend of Olaf
Image by Ethan Doyle White, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47437069
This is the story of two Olafs.
The first is the one after whom this magnificent church in Tallinn, capital of Estonia, is named: King Olaf II (above), ruler of Norway from 1015 to 1028. He was canonised and became Saint Olaf in 1030, one year after his death in the Battle of Stiklestad.
There was a close Scandinavian community in old Tallinn in the 1100's, prior to the conquest of Tallinn by Denmark in 1219. The town was poor and little-known and its citizens gathered to discuss how to bring prosperity by attracting merchant ships to its shores. To this end, they resolved to build a church with a mighty tower, the tallest in the world. They would name it in Saint Olaf's honour.
The early years of the church's construction were beset by tragedy, however. With the walls and lower part of the church in place, carpenters and tinsmiths were needed to construct the towering spire. In the first three years, three carpenters fell to their deaths. To attract a fourth, Tallinn's council had to offer more money. But a fourth craftsman died...and three more.
In all, seven men died in seven years.
For the next seven years, the church, now widely considered cursed, remained untouched.
Image by Guillaume Speurt for www.mylastdestination.eu
On the eighth year, a craftsman named Olaf came to Tallinn, with his family.
He was taken to the mayor, who asked him his name and where he was from.
The mayor was surprised when the man answered, “What is more important to you - crowning this church with the highest tower in the world or knowing my name?”
The mayor thought, “What is so important about a name? This man is the only one who has been willing to finish the tower in these past seven years.”
So they made a deal: The craftsman would get his reward of ten barrels of gold upon completion of the tower, but if the town managed to find out his name in the meantime, he would get nothing.
When the construction restarted, the tower grew with astonishing and preternatural speed.
It was then that the townspeople started to see a red-coated man with an evil aspect lurking in the vicinity of the church. The older generation remembered that whenever anything bad had happened in the past, this very same man had been seen. They began to whisper about what would happen, but the tower continued to grow, as if by witchcraft.
It felt like Olaf was receiving guidance through the realm of black magic.
Finally, he went to see the Mayor and said, “Get the gold ready, for tomorrow I will install the Golden Rooster at the top of the tower.”
Image by Alyona Pastukhova
The next day, everyone watched the construction worker climb to the top of the tower and attach the Golden Rooster to the flagpole as the man with the red coat was seen once again.
It was time for the council to settle the deal with Olaf, but they never did have the ten barrels of gold they had put up as their side of the deal. Instead, spies had been sent out to find out his name to try to win it. They had got lucky and had overheard the man’s wife say, “Don’t worry son - Olaf will be home soon.”
When the craftsman was ready to hit the very last nailhead, someone from the crowd yelled, “Olaf! Olaf! The Rooster is tilted!”
When Olaf heard his name, he flinched with shock, lost his footing and fell from the top of the enormous tower. When his body hit the ground, it broke into a thousand pieces and a snake and a toad crawled out of his mouth. The snake wrapped itself around his neck and the toad sat on his chest. It was believed he had called upon occult forces to build the enormous structure.
This is the way we can still see the three of them in the Chapel of Our Lady, next to St Olaf’s Church.
Ill fortune has followed St Olaf's Church through the centuries. The steeple of St. Olaf has been hit by lightning at least eight times, and the whole church has burned down three times throughout its known existence. Following several rebuildings, its overall height of the church is now 123.7 meters.
Image by キャロン
From 1944 until 1991, the Soviet KGB used the spire as a radio tower and surveillance point. It currently continues as an active Baptist church.
The tower's viewing platform, open to the public from April through November, offers panoramic views over the old town and the chance to pay homage to that valiant craftsman who was ultimately betrayed and dashed to pieces far below.
Image by Sophie Pearce at 'Third Eye Traveller'