Saint-King Olaf II And His Victory Over The 5-King Conspiracy

In 1015, Olaf Haraldsson launched his bid for the throne of Norway, killing, exiling, or otherwise forcing into submission the regional jarls who were beholden to other kings of Scandinavia. By 1016, he had brought Norway under his control, becoming King Olaf II, but there were still pockets of resistance among the jarls, petty kings, and chieftains who were uneasy with their new king. Around 1017, King Olaf (also known as Saint Olaf) dramatically clashed with several of these wavering noblemen who did not agree with his efforts to spread Christianity in their domains. The ensuing showdown was recorded in verse by an 11th-century Icelandic skald named Ottar the Black, whose poem was cited by Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241) in his Heimskringla (History of the Kings of Norway), specifically Saint Olaf’s Saga, which is included in that text.

Around 1017, King Olaf II began pressuring the Uppland districts to convert to Christianity. The topic of religion can get heated even in simple conversation, so the tension of the region understandably became quite hostile when King Olaf’s methods of spreading Christianity proved less than cordial. As Snorri Sturluson bluntly described, “if he found anyone who did not want to abandon heathendom, he drove him out of the land. Some he had maimed, having their hands or feet lopped off or their eyes gouged out, others he had hanged or beheaded, but left no one unchastised who refused to serve God” (Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 73). Such heavy-handedness, especially on a topic as sensitive as religion, did nothing to console the noblemen in the region who were still unsure of Olaf’s rule. Shocked by the stories of execution, mutilation and banishment, five petty kings of Uppland decided to work together in a conspiracy against King Olaf II.

Only three of the five conspirators are known to history by name, but all of them were said to have lived around the Lake Mjøsa area. Hrœrek and Gudröd were the most influential of the petty kings, while a certain King Hring and two other petty kings usually deferred to Hrœrek and Gudröd for guidance. As Olaf II ramped up his conversion campaign in the region, the five petty kings decided to meet in order to discuss what course they wanted to take. Although there was some debate, they all chose to launch a violent resistance against King Olaf. Yet, instead of an open rebellion, they decided to orchestrate a more subtle conspiracy, hoping to ambush Olaf II while the king was unaware of their disloyalty. Upon their agreement to conspire against their liege, the five petty kings vowed to remain together in a single camp, lest one of them be tempted to betray the others.

Fully committed, the conspirators started to gather warriors whom they presumed to be loyal to their cause. Each of the five petty kings allegedly pledged to recruit around 300 trustworthy fighters, and therefore, they hoped to obtain a force of at least 1,500 men. Meanwhile, as they slowly mustered their forces, the conspirators sent spies to keep an eye on King Olaf, who, at that time, was reportedly only guarded by a band of between 400 and 500 warriors.

Hrœrek, Gudröd, Hring and their fellow petty kings, however, were not the only ones with eyes and ears on the ground. King Olaf II, too, had a formidable spy network, and, to his fortune, one of his informants was invited to the conspiracy. This man, reportedly named Ketil, quickly relayed news of the conspiracy back to King Olaf, who, upon receiving the tip-off, quickly acted to crush the plot.

As the story goes, King Olaf and his guards stormed off to the nearest shore of Lake Mjøsa. There, they commandeered as many ships as they needed, and then set sail upon nightfall out into the lake. With help from his informant, Olaf knew the exact location where all five of the conspiring kings were camped together—a place called Hringiskar, near Gudbrands Dale. King Olaf reached his target well before dawn, and, after assembling his troops around the compound, he attacked at first light. Catching the conspirators unprepared and off guard, King Olaf’s troops made short work of the would-be rebels. In the fight, all five of the petty kings were captured, and Olaf severely punished the main two ringleaders of the group. King Hrœrek was blinded and forbidden to stray from Olaf’s company. Gudröd, similarly, was mutilated, but his tongue was taken instead of his eyes. Hring and the other two remaining petty kings were reportedly banished from Norway. Despite King Olaf’s victory, the blinded Hœrek would continue to conspire against the king, and Uppland would remain staunchly pagan for several more years.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration by Christian Krohg (1852–1925) for the Heimskringla, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-II-Haraldsson  

The Tricky Tale Of Odin’s Investigation Into King Geirrod Of The Goths

Odin and Frigg were the main power couple of the Norse pantheon of deities. Odin, in particular, was the owner of Valhalla and held a leadership role in Asgard—the homeland of the Norse gods. Like most divine figures, Odin and Frigg kept an interested eye on the affairs of humans. According to mythology, one of the mortals who caught their attention was a certain King Hraudung, who ruled over a Gothic kingdom. In particular, the godly couple were impressed by Hraudung’s sons, Geirrod and Agnar. As the story goes, the arch-couple of the gods became quite competitive in their assessments of the king’s children. Like judges assessing a prize-winning animal, the two gods began to argue over which of the boys was the superior prince. Odin threw his support behind the younger son, Geirrod. Frigg, however, favored the older boy, Agnar. Faced with this disagreement, the godly couple could not agree to disagree. Instead, they decided to go to great lengths in order to definitively prove which of the two boys was superior.

As the story goes, the gods—in their efforts to assess the boys—caused the two princes to be lost at sea. As was divinely planned, the lost children washed up on a strange shore, at which time Odin and Frigg swooped in to save the day by offering the boys shelter. The divine couple used the time to tutor their princes of choice, with Odin offering his guidance to Geirrod while Frigg did the same with Agnar. After a few months of this divine education, Odin and Frigg let the boys go. A ship was readied and the god and goddess prepared the boys to leave. Odin, however, was said to have held back Geirrod for a few seconds longer before allowing him to board the ship—the prince was given one last piece of advice on what to do when he returned to his homeland. After saying their farewells, the princes in their boat set sail and the divinely-inspired currents brought them back to their father’s kingdom among the Goths. Odin and Frigg, with their teaching done, watched with interest to see which of their two proteges would turn out to be superior.

Geirrod was the first of the two princes to jump out of the ship and plant his feet on the shore of his father’s domain. In a horrible and unbrotherly move, Geirrod then was said to have pushed the boat (with his brother still in it) back out to sea, from which it would never return to the land of the Goths. After doing this move (which was likely suggested by Odin), Geirrod returned to King Hraudung’s court, where he eventually succeeded his father as king.

Agnar, although lost at sea once again, did not have an uneventful life. As the story goes, his voyage at sea ended with him eventually reaching the land of giants, where he met a giantess and settled down with her to raise a family.

Odin, musing on the vastly different lives of Gierrod and Agnar, gloated that his student had become a king, while Frigg’s charge was now only a family man of little note. Frigg, at that time, could do little to argue against Odin’s assessment, at least if the judgment was based upon social station. The goddess, however, was loath to admit that Odin’s student had turned out to be more successful. Instead of admitting defeat, Frigg was said to have plotted a disgraceful demise for King Geirrod. To do this, the goddess accused Geirrod of traits that were widely hated in ancient Germanic and Nordic societies—stinginess and inhospitality. As the story goes, Odin scoffed at these allegations, but decided to pay a visit to King Geirrod’s court to see if the charges had any truth. The god put on a blue cloak and disguised himself with the alias, Grimnir, during his investigation. He then began wandering toward Geirrod’s kingdom among the Goths.

Odin’s journey and experience at the court of his protégé was recorded in a medieval poem (with a prose prologue and epilogue) called Grímnismál, or Grimnir’s Sayings. According to the poem, Odin was outpaced by an agent of Frigg, who appeared in the kingdom of Geirrod and spread rumors that a powerful wizard would soon enter the realm and that new arrivals in the kingdom should be treated with caution. The agent also divulged tidbits of information about how to detect Odin, saying these were ways to detect the nefarious wizard. Due to Frigg’s intrigue, Odin’s arrival at King Geirrod’s court was met with hostility. As the story goes, King Geirrod was not only inhospitable to his guest, but he had the suspected wizard arrested and tortured.

Odin, who was in no way squeamish about pain, put up with the torture for days while he reassessed Geirrod and his household. During this time, Geirrod’s son (ironically named Agnar), took pity on the arrested stranger and brought the god something to drink. The boy’s show of hospitality greatly impressed Odin, and the god asked the child to stay awhile and hear his wisdom. This knowledge, as the story goes, was delivered in fifty-four stanzas of poetry (aka Grimnir’s Sayings), delving into such topics as the creation of the world, the various mythical lands inhabited by supernatural creatures, and descriptions of the halls of the gods. The final stanzas of Odin’s wisdom were said to have been delivered on the eighth night of his imprisonment, at a time when both young Agnar and his father, King Geirrod, were present. As he finished his verses, Odin finally revealed his identity and declared that he was revoking all of his divine favor from King Geirrod and would instead give his support solely to the king’s son, Agnar.

As soon as the king realized that he had imprisoned and tortured a god, Geirrod quickly drew his sword and rushed to cut away the bindings that were holding Odin. Yet, devoid of the support of the gods, poor Geirrod suddenly found himself to be incredibly clumsy. As he hurried to free the captive, Geirrod slipped and was said to have impaled himself on his own sword. As the discourteous Geirrod died, Odin easily used his godly abilities to free himself from his binds. After giving his supernatural support to Geirrod’s hospitable heir, Agnar, Odin disappeared and resumed his wanderings.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Sculpture of Odin or Wotan, by Rudolf Maison (1854–1904), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Grimnir’s Sayings, an old poem which was preserved in the 13th-century Poetic Edda which was produced anonymously in Iceland. Translation by Carolyne Larrington (Oxford University Press, 2014).
• https://pantheon.org/articles/g/geirrodr2.html  

The Winter Of The Living Dead In Lysufjord Greenland

Thorstein Eiriksson was reportedly the only child of Eirik the Red to never reach North America. Thorstein’s brother, Leif Eiriksson, was the first known European to set foot in North America, doing so around the year 999, and he named his site of disembarkation Vinland; Thorvald Eiriksson also journeyed to Vinland and died of an arrow wound there; their sister, Freydis Eiriksdottir, reportedly made her own trip (or possibly trips) to those distant shores and lived to tell the tale.  Although poor Thorstein was apparently the only child of Eirik the Red to not be a part of that exclusive Vinland club, perhaps he would be glad to know that oral history about his life was in no way boring, but instead produced an incredibly strange tale that surpassed the stories of all his kinsmen in weirdness. Thorstein makes an appearance in the Saga of the Greenlanders and Eirik the Red’s Saga, both dating from the 13th century and based on oral tradition in Greenland and Iceland. Although the two sagas focus on the discovery and the discoverers of North America, Thorstein Eiriksson features in one of the most striking scenes included in both sagas, even though he never saw or stepped on North American soil. Unfortunately for Thorstein, it was his own death scene. Or, as may be guessed from the title of this article—his undeath.

According to the oral history preserved in the Saga of the Greenlanders and Eirik the Red’s Saga, Thorstein Eiriksson attempted a journey to Vinland, but his crew got lost and had to turn back to Greenland before winter. He and his wife, Gudrid Thorbjarnardottir, ended up spending the winter in the region of Lysufjord, either because they owned property (probably undeveloped) in the area, or their ship was simply stranded there by the winter weather. Whatever the case, Thorstein and Gudrid attempted to ride out the winter in the home of a hospitable couple. The man of this host household was named Thorstein the Black, while his wife was given the name Grimhild (in the Saga of the Greenlanders) or Sigrid (in Eirik the Red’s Saga). Staying with this host family would turn out to be a horrible decision for Thorstein Eiriksson and Gudrid, as an outbreak of disease in Lysufjord coincided with the onset of winter, and such conditions led to the deaths of many in the region.

That winter, the illness and death of a certain foreman named Gardi heralded the beginning of an epidemic. Before long, many were bedridden by the illness, including the hostess (Grimhild or Sigrid) of the estate where Thorstein Eiriksson and Gudrid were staying. Eiriksson, too, eventually caught the disease and was restricted to a sickbed. With half of the household sick, Gudrid and the host carried out all the tasks that needed to be done—Gudrid cared for the sick, while Thorstein the Black kept his distance, often fishing or gathering resources that they would need to survive the winter.

Despite Gudrid’s best efforts, she could not prevent the illness from taking its course. The hostess of the household was the first to die. Her husband, Thorstein the Black, reportedly left the body alone with his guests while he went outside to gather planks for a coffin, and to finish other chores, such as fishing. While the host was absent, Thorstein Eiriksson and Gudrid were said to have witnessed something truly nightmarish. According to the folklore preserved in the Saga of the Greenlanders and Eirik the Red’s Saga, the corpse of Grimhild (or Sigrid) reanimated and became a draugr—a Norse zombie.

In the Saga of the Greenlanders, the draugr of the deceased woman posed little threat, and Thorstein Eiriksson, looking on from his sickbed, lightheartedly commented, “Strange are the actions of the mistress of the house now; she’s struggling to raise herself up on her elbow, stretching her feet out from the bedboards and feeling for her shoes” (chapter 5). In that particular telling of the tale, the zombie-mistress stopped moving as soon as Thorstein the Black returned to the home, his walking through the threshold of the house somehow ending her undeath. Eirik the Red’s Saga, however, presented a much more threatening, action-packed scene. In this alternative version of the story, poor Thorstein Eiriksson was again on his sickbed, looking at the body of Grimhild (or Sigrid), when the corpse reanimated and started to move. Whereas the previous story said that the draugr merely moved its limbs aimlessly, the story in Eirik the Red’s Saga instead claimed that the zombie was slowly and intimidatingly moving its way toward sick, immobilized Thorstein Eiriksson. He and his wife were so frightened that they could think of nothing better to do than shout for their host, who was somewhere outside. Thorstein the Black heard their call and came to the rescue, wielding an axe. According to Eirik the Red’s Saga, “When he entered she [the zombie] had reached the sideboards of the bed. He took hold of her and drove an axe into her breast” (chapter 6).

Not long after Grimhild or Sigrid’s death (and second death), Thorstein Eiriksson also succumbed to his illness. There must have been something special about that winter or that particular disease, for the body of Thorstein Eiriksson, too, was said to have reanimated as a zombie or draugr. Zombie-Thorstein was apparently a very polite, well-behaved creature, and therefore the axe-wielding host reportedly decided to let the creature live. In both sagas in which this tale occurs, the draugr merely wanted to speak to Gudrid. According to the Saga of the Greenlanders, the reanimated corpse of Thorstein foretold the future for Gudrid, whereas Eirik the Red’s Saga claimed that the zombie begged for his body to be brought to a church so that it could be properly buried by a priest. After delivering its message, zombie-Thorstein apparently collapsed to the ground, once again fully dead.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Viking Age ship burning burial, drawn by Alexander Zick (1845–1907), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Vinland Sagas (Saga of the Greenlanders and Eirik the Red’s Saga) translated by Keneva Kunz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.

The Hairy Origin Myth Of The Lombard Name

The Lombards were a northern Germanic people who, according to tradition, originated from Scandinavia and eventually migrated to the Elba River region. According to The History of the Lombards by Paul the Deacon (c. 720-799), the tribe originally called themselves the Winnili, and when they reached the Elbe, they were confronted by other regional powers who gave the new arrivals an ultimatum of either paying tribute or facing war. The Winnili, despite being few in number compared to their neighbors, did not shy from war—a trait later recognized by the Romans. Instead of paying tribute, the early Winnili reportedly chose war.

As told in folklore and myth, the Lombard name originated in this period of war in the Elbe region. According to the Origo Gentis Langobardum and the aforementioned work of Paul the Deacon, the Winnili were soon confronted by a group called the Wandals. These foes are sometimes identified as the Vandals, and other times connected to the Wends—whatever the case the tale soon becomes swamped in myth, and the identity of the so-called Wandals makes little difference, at least for this story.

The Wandals, whomever they may have been, were reportedly devout followers of the Germanic god, Wotan (i.e. Odin). Wotan, according to myth, returned the affection and often answered their prayers. The goddess Frea (Freyja), on the other hand, favored the newly-arrived Winnili. Therefore, when the Winnili and Wandals went to war, so too did Wotan and Frea, entering into a Homer-esque battle of wits in the realm of the gods.

According to the tale, the Wandals called on Wotan’s support when they knew that a battle was imminent. Responding to their plea, Wotan promised victory to the first army he saw at sunrise. Although the god’s decree looks fairly unbiased at first glance, his favoritism was betrayed when it was only the Wandal army that was informed of the pledge. Furthermore, Wotan made sure to keep his head facing toward the Wandals before he went to sleep for the night.

Although Wotan went to his slumber expecting to give victory to the Wandals in the morning, Frea had another outcome in mind. While Wotan slept, Frea visited the Winnili camp and told them of the divine decree—or, at least, she advised them to mobilize their forces before sunrise. The Winnili, however, were still small in number, so to make the group more visible and eye-catching, Frea told the Winnili women to accompany their men into battle. The goddess further instructed the women to gather their lengthy hair around their chins in order to make their locks look like long beards. With this plan in place, Frea returned to Wotan. Yet, the goddess took one last step before dawn arrived. Silently and gently, Frea rotated Wotan’s bed to face the direction of the Winnili. To ensure that her favored people emerged victorious, Frea made sure to wake up Wotan just as the Winnili were amassing in the morning light. When the awakening god opened his eyes, the Winnili masses, with all their hair, were the first people that he saw. According to the Origo Gentis Langobardorum, the scene played out in the following way:

“And he, looking at them, saw the Winniles and their women having their hair let down around the face. And he says, ‘Who are these Long-beards?’ And Frea said to Godan [Wotan], ‘As you have given them a name, give them also the victory.’ And he gave them the victory, so that they should defend themselves according to his counsel and obtain the victory. From that time the Winniles were called Langobards.” (Origo Gentis Langobardorum, I, trans. William Foulke)

As the myth colorfully illustrates, the early medieval Lombards believed their name derived from facial hair. Other etymologies have been suggested, but the long-beard origin of the Lombards remains a fan-favorite. Whatever the case, the tribe had embraced their new name by the time the Romans began taking notes on Germania. Rome found the Lombards still in the Elbe region, calling them the Langobardi, and classified them as being part of a larger group called the Suebi. Despite their battle prowess and Frea’s support, the Lombards had, by then, become subject to the Marcomanni. Around 17 CE, they rebelled against Maroboduus of the Marcomanni and became a politically-influential force in the region. Around the 5th century, the Lombards migrated to the Danube, then to Pannonia. Finally, around 568, the Lombards invaded Italy to form the Kingdom of Lombardy, which survived until its destruction at the hands of Charlemagne in 774.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Depiction of King Alboin entering Pavia, illustrated by Charles F. Horne c. 1900, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.
• The Annals of Imperial Rome by Tacitus, translated by Michael Grant. New York: Penguin Classics, 1996. 
• Agricola and Germania by Tacitus and translated by Harold Mattingly and revised by J. B. Rives. New York: Penguin Classics, 2009. 
• History of the Lombards by Paul the Deacon, translated by William Dudley Foulke (c. 1904). University of Pennsylvania Press, 1907, 1974, 2003. 
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/Lombard-people 
• https://www.ancient.eu/Lombards/ 
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/Suebi  

The Odd Tale Of Herjolf The Avenger

Old Herjolf Sigurdsson was reportedly one of the many adventurers to sail to Iceland during the Icelandic Age of Settlement (approximately 860-930). According to the Landnámabók (Book of Settlements), the elderly Herjolf, and his son, Thorstein Coal-beard, laid claim to the lands in Iceland between Bulandshofdi and Kirkjuffjord. Unfortunately, little was recorded about Herjolf’s life after he settled in Iceland, and perhaps he succumbed to his old age not long after reaching his destination. Nevertheless, before he died, Herjolf Sigurdsson secured his legacy by telling tales about his wild youthful exploits in the old country. Some of these stories were transformed by Icelandic skalds into poetry, of which one poem still survives.

In his glory days, Herjolf Sigurdsson was reportedly one of the best fighters in the Nordic world. He was, as they say, a chip off the old block—Herjolf’s father, Sigurd Hog’s-Head, was described as a champion among men. Mighty Sigurd, however, was quickly outshined by his impressive son, who reportedly began performing great feats of Herculean strength when he was only a child. Yet, the rivalry between father and son was abruptly cut off when Sigurd Hog’s-Head was slain by a rival sometime during Herjolf’s childhood. In death, Sigurd left one last test for his son, as Herjolf was expected to avenge his father’s killing. Herjolf did, indeed, avenge his father, and reportedly did so when he was only twelve years of age.

The most memorable of Herjolf’s tales, however, occurred four years before he avenged his father’s death.  At the time, he was an eight-year-old goatherd. Although young, Herjolf took his job seriously and was incredibly protective of his goats. Humans likely knew not to mess with the growing warrior’s animals. Animals, however, did not have the same insight. One day, as the story goes, a brown bear with a distinctively burned rump ambushed Herjolf’s livestock and successfully bit one of the goats. The young hero, however, did not shy away from the predator but charged forward against the bear to rescue (or avenge) his poor goat. Using whatever he had on hand, eight-year-old Herjolf was able to drive off or kill the bear. Interestingly enough, this is the tale that was preserved and immortalized by an anonymous skald in this curious verse:

“The bear with a burnt arse

bit Herjolf’s goat.

Herjolf with the bent arse

paid the bear back.”

(Landnámabók, Stulubók manuscript, chapter 80)

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (A scene of Valhalla by Emil Doepler (c. 1855-1922), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Book of Settlements (Sturlubók version) translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1972, 2006.

The Battle Of The Einars In the Snæfellsnes Peninsula

According to the Book of Settlements (Landnámabók), a man named Sigmund Ketilsson lived on the southwestern end of the Snæfellsnes Peninsula in Iceland. He lived during the Age of Settlement (approximately 860-930) and claimed for himself the land between what the Landnámabók calls Hellishraun and Beruvikurhraun. Within his territory, he chose Laugarbrekka as his seat of power and built a farm there, where he lived with his wife, Hildigunn, and three sons, Einar, Breid and Thorkell. The eldest son was Einar and, as he inherited control of his father’s farm, he became known as Einar of Laugarbrekka. Unfortunately, little is known about the lives of Einar’s brothers, Breid and Thorkell. Besides his family and his farmhands, Sigmund was fairly isolated in his section of Snæfellsnes. Yet, he did sell some land to a neighbor named Lon-Einar, who lived nearby. Sigmund and Lon-Einar both had sizable parties of loyal farmhands, but there seemed to be peace between the neighbors while Sigmund was alive.

When Sigmund died, however, Lon-Einar began to encroach on his neighbor’s territory. At some point after Sigmund’s death, Lon-Einar gathered a crew of six henchmen and traveled to Laugarbrekka, where the widow Hildigunn was still living. What Lon-Einar did there is vague, but perhaps he made some sort of pass at Hildigunn, or as the Landnámabók curiously stated, he “summoned Hildigunn for sorcery” (Landnámabók, Stulubók manuscript, chapter 75). Whether or not he genuinely needed her help with magic, or if he wanted to make a different kind of passionate magic with her, Hildigunn was stricken with disgust by his proposal. When she later told her sons of Lon-Einar’s request, they, too, were outraged. The new head of the late Sigmund’s household, Einar of Laugarbrekka, promptly rounded together a warband of farmhands and slaves and set out with his well-armed party to hunt down Lon-Einar.

Lon-Einar was still accompanied by his six companions when he was confronted by the group from Laugarbrekka. The meeting between the two parties did not go well and words quickly turned to blows. Soon, there was a full-blown battle between the sides of the two Einars. Yet, the fight was apparently one-sided. After four of Lon-Einar’s companions were slain, his last two henchmen fled from the scene. Yet, Lon-Einar, himself, reportedly stood his ground and dueled Einar of Laugarbrekka. The two were evenly matched, but Lon-Einar was wearing loose pants that day and, while trying to pull up his falling breeches, he received a fatal blow from Einar of Laugarbrekka. Meanwhile, the two men who had fled the scene of the battle were hunted down and killed.

Einar of Laugarbrekka returned home with a complete victory. The Landnámabók, unfortunately, did not record Hildigunn’s reaction or what her life was like after the battle. The book did, however, claim that a slave named Hreidar distinguished himself during the Battle of the Einars, and that Einar of Laugarbrekka gave Hreidar freedom, as well as ownership over however much land the freedman could fence off in three days.

As for Einar of Laugarbrekka, he married a woman called Unn, and they had two daughters, named Hallveg and Arnora. When he eventually died, Einar of Laugarbrekka was buried in a grave near the burial mound of his father, Sigmund. Plant life around Einar’s grave, the Landnámabók insisted, always remained green in both summer and winter.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (A scene from Njal's Saga, by the artist Andreas Bloch (1860–1917), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Book of Settlements (Sturlubók version) translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1972, 2006.

The Myth Of Nor And His Nor Way

The anonymous Orkneyinga Saga (written approximately c. 1200) began with an interesting story that offered a mythological explanation as to how Norway received its name. The saga opens with a special family in Finland that traced its lineage to a certain King Fornjot. This being, however, was not a typical king—Fornjot was known as “the Ancient Giant” and his name is often thought to be an alternative title of Ymir, the father of the race of giants.

Whatever the case, King Fornjot was supposedly an incredibly powerful being and he gave birth to children who were personifications of elemental forces. The saga names three sons of Fornjot: Ægir (sea), Logi (flame) and Kari (storm). The last brother, Kari, had a son named Frosti (frost) and Frosti, in turn, fathered a son named Snær (snow) and, finally, Thorri (another personification of frost) was born to Snær. By the time Thorri had a family of his own, the great giant, Ymir, had been murdered by the Norse gods, and the earth was fashioned from his corpse.

As was hinted earlier, the family of Thorri eventually settled in Finland.  Thorri had two sons, called Nor and Gor, as well as a daughter named Goi. As the story goes, Thorri was extremely religious and held sacrifices every year at midwinter. According to the myth, Thorri’s sacrifices left such a cultural impact that a month was named after him—it began in the third week of January. The month of Thorri was followed by the month of Goe, which was said to have received its name from an incident when Thorri’s daughter mysteriously went missing.

After waiting three years for Goi to return, the brothers Nor and Gor decided to travel the land in search of their sister. Gor took to the sea and searched for his sister on the islands scattered around the coastline of Scandinavia. While Gor sailed the seas, his brother, Nor, wandered on foot across the land. He traveled into Finnmark, the northernmost region of the Norwegian mainland. From there, he continued down the land to the region of Trondheim.

Although Nor and Gor had originally begun their journeys to search for their sister, they quickly were distracted by the idea of conquest. As descendants of giants and elemental beings, Nor and Gor were said to wield great magical power, and they used their abilities to subjugate any communities they encountered during their travels. By the time Nor reached Trondheim Fjord, a large army of followers were drawn to the wanderer’s strength. Nor sent these followers out to scout for his sister—if these spies faced resistance from a settlement, Nor would conquer the obstinate region and expand his domain.

According to the myth, Nor eventually found his sister. Goi had apparently been kidnapped by a certain Hrolf and was living with her captor in Heidemark. Nor mobilized his forces and set out to free his sister. Yet, Nor quickly discovered that Hrolf was no pushover. Hrolf, too, had mythological ancestry—his father was a powerful giant. The two superhuman beings, challenged each other to a duel, and in the ensuing clash of mythical strength and spells, Nor and Hrolf found that they were evenly matched. In the end, Nor could not free his sister from Hrolf. Instead, balance was achieved when Nor married Hrolf’s sister (who was left unnamed).

Having found their sister, Nor and Gor decided to make their homes in the lands where they had traveled. Gor claimed the coastal islands and his descendants became the Sea-Kings. Nor similarly claimed the mainland and generations of his descendants divided the land into small independent kingdoms. Despite the disunity in the land, the kingdoms were linked by being geographically located in Nor’s way during his search for his sister. That is why, at least according to this myth from the Orkneyinga Saga, the region was called Norway.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (An image of Odin from an 18th-century Icelandic manuscript (NKS 1867 4to) now in the care of the Danish Royal Library. [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Orkneyinga Saga, written anonymously approximately c. 1200, translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. New York: Penguin Classics, 1981.
• http://avaldsnes.info/en/informasjon/glemte-kongeslekter/  

The Naglfar—The Largest (And Most Unsanitary) Ship In Norse Mythology

In Norse myth, there are two great ships used by the gods and giants that surpass all others in existence. The Æsir (Odin and his followers in Asgard) possess a wonderful ship, called Skidbladnir, which miraculously can be folded up like a cloth into a pocket-sized form. When unfolded, however, it can carry the whole host of Asgard in its hull and is never is without a favorable wind. Although the Skidbladnir is considered to be the ship of best design in Norse myth, another vessel called the Naglfar is superior in terms of sheer size.

The Naglfar is the flagship of the denizens of Muspelheim (often shortened to Muspell), an inhospitable realm of fire and embers in the Norse mythological universe. A glimpse of how massive the Naglfar is meant to be can be gleaned from the lengthy construction process of the ship—a process that will go on until doomsday. As the story goes, the inhabitants of the Muspelheim will continue construction on the Naglfar up until the apocalyptic battle between the Æsir and their enemies on the day of Ragnarok. Only on that day, will the Naglfar be released from its moorings and be allowed to set sail. According to myth, humans can speed up or slow down the progress of the Naglfar’s construction, as the main material used in the ship’s construction is said to be the fingernails and toenails of dead men. Therefore, keeping your fingers and toes trimmed and filed may ward off Ragnarok for a time.

When the day of Ragnarok does arrive, the Naglfar will be an odd sight, and not just because it allegedly will be a massive floating pile of finger and toenails. As the story goes, the Naglfar and its fire-giant helmsman, Hrym, will sail out of the realm of embers in Muspelheim and make an unlikely detour before disembarking its troops for the battle of Ragnarok. In a questionable partnership, the ship from blazing Muspelheim is foretold to pick up and transport the entire army of the Frost Giants to the apocalyptic battle. Possibly to accommodate the Frost Giants, Surt (the fire-sword wielding leader of the Muspelheim forces) is prophesied to forego travel on his ship, the Naglfar, and instead march to Ragnarok on foot with an elite band of fiery warriors. This coalition of giants (along with the Midgard Serpent, the Fenriswolf, Loki and Hel), according to Norse mythology, will be the downfall of the most prominent Æsir gods.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (A Ship and Sirens by Gustave Moreau  (1826–1898), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Prose Edda by Snorri Sturluson, translated by Jesse Byock. New York: Penguin Books, 2005.

Some Medieval Norwegian Stave Churches Decorated Their Portals With Images Of Sigurd The Dragon-Slayer

Sigurd, the mythical slayer of the dragon Fafnir, was a member of the Volsung family. According to the tales, the Volsungs were one of several powerful families started by the archgod of the Norse pantheon—Odin. As if the Volsung line and Sigurd’s act of dragon-slaying were not epic enough, Sigurd’s daughter Aslaug married the legendary Viking, Ragnar Lothbrok, whose sons, most notably Ivar the Boneless, were the alleged leaders of the “Great Heathen Army” that invaded Britain in the year 865.

Carvings of scenes from Sigurd’s adventures have been found dating back to the 10th century. Many of the oldest of such carvings were located on the Isle of Man, a hub for Viking activity in Britain. It took a few more centuries for the tales of the dragon-slayer to be written down into a textual format. It appears that the German version of the tale came first, around 1200, by way of the Nibelungenlied, where the hero was known as Siegfried instead of Sigurd. The Icelandic Saga of the Volsungs, was written around the same time, with the date of its creation ranging anywhere from 1200 to 1270. Even though the 13th-century edition of the saga is the only one that survives, scholars believe that the anonymous author of The Saga of the Volsungs used an earlier (now lost) Volsung-themed saga as a source for his own work.

By the 13th century, when saga writing in Iceland became popular, the Scandinavian world was heavily Christianized. The governing body of Iceland, the Althing, formally announced its conversion to the Christian faith in the year 1,000. Even so, many medieval Scandinavians, especially the Icelanders, never lost interest in their old pagan gods and the stories about the North's greatest warriors and adventurers. The dragon-slayer, Sigurd the Volsung, despite being allegedly descended from Odin, was also able to mesh with surprising ease into the Christianized society of Scandinavia. After all, even the archangel Michael was often depicted as a slayer of dragons. As such, no complaints were made when numerous stave (wooden) churches of 12th- and 13th- century Norway were decorated with carvings not of the angelic Michael, but of mighty Sigurd slaying the dragon Fafnir. In particular, these carvings of Sigurd were frequently located on the doorframes (or portals) to the stave churches, presumably so that the mythical hero would scare off Satan, the greatest of evil serpents, from entering the holy sanctuary.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Image from the Hedalen stave church, c. 1853, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Saga of the Volsungs, by an anonymous 13th-century Icelander, translated by Jesse L. Byock. New York: Penguin Classics, 1990, 1999.