The Bullish Battle Between Thorfinn Karlsefni and North American Natives

In the first decade of the 11th century, several Nordic adventurers were said to have led expeditions to North America. Leif Eiriksson was reportedly the first of these explorers to set foot in the New World, setting up his camp somewhere on the southeastern Canadian coast, presumably in the vicinity of Labrador, Newfoundland, and Nova Scotia. Leif was lucky in picking the location of his camp, for he was apparently far enough away from native settlements to preclude any aggression from the locals. Instead, Leif Eiriksson gathered exotic North American merchandise in peace, and then set sail back to Greenland to sell his wares and tell tales about his adventure. Other adventurers who followed Leif Eiriksson’s stead in the early 11th century had less luck avoiding the natives of North America. Among these later adventurers was Thorfinn Karlsefni, leader of one of the more ambitious expeditions to the land that Leif called Vinland.

From the loose timeline that can be formed from Icelandic sagas and folkloric tradition, the expedition of Thorfinn Karlsefni can be dated to around 1003-1006 or 1007-1009. As the story goes, Thorfinn and his new wife, Gudrid, led a large group of people to the New World, hoping to start a settlement or trading hub. In the Saga of the Greenlanders, sixty-five people were said to have signed up for Thorfinn’s expedition. Eirik the Red’s Saga, however, claimed that Thorfinn Karlsefni’s crew was only the leading piece of a larger effort, with the total number of settlers being 140 people divided between three ships.

Stocked with supplies and some livestock, Thorfinn Karlsefni and the expedition members set sail for North America. Wind and waves did little to hamper the sailors as they made their way to the New World, and the crews soon found themselves sailing along the coast of the vast lands that Leif had enthusiastically described. Thorfinn Karlsefni decided to make his camp at a spot dominated by grassy fields, which eventually gave way to deer-filled forests, crisscrossed by streams full of fish. The site, with its access to resources from the plains, forests and water, was a perfect location for settlement—as such, the region was already settled by the North American natives, and these locals were curious and concerned about the new foreign presence sailing up to their shore.

After observing the Nordic settlers for a time, the natives eventually made contact. Arriving by boat or on foot, bands of natives peacefully approached Thorfinn Karlsefni’s settlement. Although there was a language barrier, the two peoples were able to create a limited level of communication through hand signals and other means. Using diligent pointing and gesturing, the natives and settlers began bartering. According to the sagas, the natives often brought animal pelts, which the Greenlanders took in exchange for dairy products and cloth.

Milk and its derivative products were allegedly a great hit with the locals near Thorfinn’s settlement. Yet, despite enjoying the byproducts of the settlers’ livestock, the natives reportedly found the actual animals brought by the Greenlanders to be incredibly bizarre and frightening. In particular, an ornery bull belonging to Thorfinn Karlsefni was said to have been the thing of nightmares for native traders who saw it. Thorfinn and the settlers made note of that fear, and their perceptiveness would be helpful when the good relations between natives and foreigners inevitably broke down.

Why the settlers and the natives began fighting varies from tale to tale. In the Saga of the Greenlanders, hostilities erupted after one of the native traders was killed in a bartering dispute. Eirik the Red’s Saga, in contrast, curiously placed blame on the ill-tempered bull, saying that the beast so frightened and outraged the natives that they rallied an army and attacked the settlement to rid the world of the horned devil and its owners.

According to the Saga of the Greenlanders, the bull would play a pivotal role in the battle. Knowing that the natives feared the creature, Thorfinn Karlsefni reportedly had the bull dragged into battle. As the story goes, he lured the native forces into a natural bottleneck, with water on one side and dense forest on the other. When the native force advanced through this carefully chosen narrow corridor, Thorfinn prodded the bull forward and sent it charging against the army of locals. As much of the cloth traded to the natives by the settlers had been red, the previous bartering perhaps made the bull’s rampage all the more effective. Seizing the momentum, the Greenlanders readied their weapons and followed the bull’s wake of carnage into battle. Thorfinn Karlsefni, with his Viking Age weaponry and rampaging bull, won the skirmish and forced the natives to retreat. Yet, the Greenlanders now found the atmosphere in Vinland to be too hostile for a long-term settlement and, after filling their ships with North American goods, they decided to set sail back to Greenland.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

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

The First Scandinavian Reported To Have Seen North America

Two sagas from the 13th century—Eirik the Red’s Saga and the Saga of the Greenlanders—unanimously declare that Leif Eiriksson was the first known Scandinavian to set foot on North America. Despite that acknowledgment, the Saga of the Greenlanders also claimed that at least one other person had seen the New World before Leif made his journey. The person in question was an Icelandic merchant named Bjarni Herjolfsson. Around 986, Bjarni was reportedly seeing to his trade route between Iceland and Norway when he received news that his father, Herjolf, was joining Eirik the Red’s expedition to settle Greenland. By the time Bjarni returned home, his father had already set sail for the new land. This realization disturbed the merchant—perhaps he was worried about his father’s ability to set up a farm alone, or maybe he was simply a filial type of guy who really loved his father. Whatever the case, Bjarni Herjolfsson quickly set back out to sea in order to meet up with his father in Greenland before winter, and he did not even take the time to unload or sell any of the cargo that he brought back from Norway before leaving port.

With his ship overweight and his navigation rushed, Bjarni soon found himself at the mercy of the weather. As the story goes, he was blown off course by storms and then found himself blinded by dense fog. Lost at sea, he continued sailing until finally, at long last, he spotted land. Yet, the sight of the coast perturbed Bjarni, for he had been given a description of his destination before he had set sail, and the lands he saw ahead were in no way Eirik the Red’s misleadingly-named Greenland. What was before him was an entirely different land.

Still eager to reach his father, Bjarni Herjolfsson did not stop to explore on foot, but instead sailed northward along the coast. He watched the geography change as his journey progressed. At first, the country he saw was extremely forested. Tree-covered hills began to give way to wooded flatlands, followed by a region of snow-capped mountains and a glacier on what seemed to be an island. Upon arriving in this more frigid and snowy place, Bjarni and his crew made the fortuitous decision to start sailing back east. Navigating this new route, the lost Icelanders finally reached Greenland, and Bjarni was reunited with Herjolf. Despite seeing plentiful land to the west, Bjarni apparently never attempted to go back to the places he witnessed. He did, however, spread the word in Greenland and similarly told his story in Norway whenever he visited for business.

Leif Eiriksson, according to the Saga of the Greenlanders, was one of the people reportedly captivated by Bjarni Herjolfsson’s tales of land to the west. Eirik the Red’s Saga, however, cuts Bjarni out of the story and instead insists it was Leif who, while returning home from Norway, was blown off course by storms and discovered the New World by accident. Whatever the case, either tipped off by Bjarni Herjolfsson or carried off course by his own fateful storm, Leif was said to have reached North America around the year 1000 and went one step further than Bjarni by actually stepping foot on the land, which he called Vinland.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Sources:

• The Vinland Sagas (Saga of the Greenlanders and Eirik the Red’s Saga) translated by Keneva Kunz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/science/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/bjarni-herjolfsson  

The Gamble Of Norway’s King Olaf II For The Island Of Hísing

In 1015, a royal-blooded Viking and mercenary named Olaf Haraldsson (Saint Olaf) launched his bid for power in Norway, intending to end fifteen years of foreign domination over Norwegian land by the Danes and Swedes. The last Norwegian king had been slain in the year 1000 by a coalition consisting of King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark (r. 987-1014), Olaf the Tax-King of Sweden (r. 980-1022), and dissident Norwegian jarls. In the years after that battle, Norway was ruled by jarls who deferred to the Danish and Swedish authority. It was against these foreign-backed Norwegian jarls that Olaf Haraldsson campaigned in 1015, forcing them into exile or submission by 1016. After consolidating power, the upstart ruler proclaimed himself King Olaf II of Norway and began the precarious balancing act of trying to keep foreign influence out of Norway while also striving to enforce his newfound authority over the weariest of his Norwegian chieftains, such as a conspiracy of five minor kings against him that was thwarted in 1017.

Although the Dane, Canute the Great (r. 1016-1035), was on the rise at the same time as King Olaf II of Norway, Canute’s early focus was on England, making Denmark less of a threat to Olaf during his early years. Sweden, on the other hand, gave the fledgling King Olaf II quite a bit of trouble as he tried to establish his authority in Norway. Although the Swedish-aligned jarls had been defeated by 1016, Olaf the Tax-King of Sweden refused to acknowledge the new Norwegian monarch’s authority, and pointedly attempted several times to send tax collectors into Norway. According to the Heimskringla (History of the Kings of Norway) of Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), the Norwegian king or his agents clashed with Swedish tax collectors on at least three instances, and in another incident the Swedes even commandeered a ship laden with goods meant to adorn the throne room of King Olaf II. Such isolated friction and contained harassments continued until 1019, by which time both Olafs, of Norway and Sweden, had tired of their feud. That year, King Olaf II of Norway married the Swedish king’s daughter, Ástrid, and the two monarchs met together to finally settle their differences.

When the monarchs met, the Swedish king reportedly granted, without much debate, recognition of the Norwegian Olaf’s authority over most of what King Harald Finehair (r. 860-940) of Norway had once ruled in the past. The arguments apparently heated up, however, when the two discussed the large Island of Hísing, presumably referring to modern Hisingen, in Sweden. Instead of resuming their hostilities over the issue, the two in-laws reportedly decided to resolve their disagreement through a non-violent competition. According to folklore, they played a game of dice, and the Island of Hísing was the stake.

As the story goes, the game involved throwing two numbered dice (with the highest number being six on each die) and the one that threw the highest sum won the round. Whichever king provided the dice must have brought a loaded pair, for both kings consistently began rolling double-sixes. Snorri Sturluson described the bizarre dicing scene:

“Then the Swedish king threw two sixes and said that it was no use for King Oláf to throw. He replied, while shaking the dice in his hand, ‘There are two sixes still on the dice, and it is a trifling matter for God, my Lord, to have them turn up.’ He threw them, and two sixes turned up. Thereupon Oláf, the king of Sweden, again threw two sixes. Then Oláf, the king of Norway, cast the dice, and one six showed on one of them, but the other split in two, so that six and one turned up” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 94).

Such was the way, according to folklore, that King Olaf II of Norway gained control of the island of Hísing. Snorri Sturluson, for his part, recognized this was a far-fetched story, even for the folklore-riddled sagas which were frequently prone to artistic license. He made sure to distance himself from the story by crediting the tale to a certain Thorstein the Learned.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Hall scene from the saga of Olaf Tryggvason, illustrated by Christian Krohg (1852–1925), [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 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-Tryggvason 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Canute-I 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Sweyn-I  

The Comical Tale About The Ugly Feet Of Thórarin Nefjólfsson

A prominent Icelandic merchant named Thórarin Nefjólfsson happened to be in Túnsberg (now Tønsberg), Norway, at a time when King Olaf II Haraldsson (r. 1015-1028) was residing in the city. Thórarin reportedly was an intelligent, eloquent and candid individual. Yet, unfortunately for the Icelander, he was best known for another quality—ugliness. The Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson (1179-1241) colorfully claimed, “Thórarin was exceedingly ugly, and particularly his limbs. He had big and misshapen hands, but his feet were uglier even by far” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 85). Thórarin Nefjólfsson, for his part, embraced his own ugliness, and was the kind of person who enjoyed poking fun at his own features. Due to his endearing nature, his wealth, and his prominence, Thórarin was invited by King Olaf II to stay with the royal party for a time. The Icelander reportedly even had the honor of sleeping in the same hall as the king, along with other people that the monarch trusted.

As the story goes, one morning while King Olaf II was lying awake in his bed, not yet willing to get up, the king procrastinated by observing the bunks of the people around him, and in doing so, Olaf caught sight of something he thought to be truly grotesque. As the other occupants of the room began to stir, the king directed their attention to the horrific sight, and they all agreed it was one of the worst visual experiences they had ever witnessed. What had caught their attention, of course, was their Icelandic guest, specifically the sight of a single bare foot belonging to Thórarin Nefjolfsson that had popped out from the man’s bed covers during the night. According to Snorri Sturluson, King Olaf mused aloud to his comrades, “I have been awake for a while, and I have seen a sight which seems to me worth seeing, and that is, a man’s foot so ugly that I don’t think there is an uglier one here in this town” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 85).

Thórarin Nefjolfsson soon woke up and realized that everyone in the hall was staring at his foot. King Olaf, with the boldness of a king, and the knowledge that Thórarin was a good sport about his appearance, spoke plainly to the Icelandic merchant and explained that they were all amazed by the ugliness of the man’s foot. Furthermore, according to Snorri Sturluson, King Olaf went on to proclaim, “I rather warrant you that there isn’t an equally ugly foot to be found, and I would even be willing to bet on that” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 85). Hearing this assertion, Thórarin Nefjolfsson took the king up on his bet, and the two set their stakes for the wager. Thórarin Nefjolfsson, if he won, wanted to be officially invited into the king’s retinue, while Olaf’s request was for the Icelander to do a royal errand. With the bets set, Thórarin began planning how to find an uglier foot in the city of Túnsberg.

As the story goes, Thórarin Nefjólfsson did not have to look far for his answer. He did not have to leave the hall, nor even his bunk, for the winning exhibit. With a triumphant flourish, Thórarin popped out his other foot from under the bed covers and displayed it for all to see. His second foot was just as ugly as the first, yet the big toe on this newer foot had been amputated for some reason or other, causing it to be all the more ghastly.

Olaf II was on the verge of losing his bet, and everybody knew it, so the king had to think up a witty response to bring the wager back into his favor. After assessing the Icelander’s second foot, the king proclaimed that the amputated toe was a mercy, as there was one less horrendous digit to look at. According to Snorri Sturluson, the king further explained his reasoning by saying “The first foot is uglier because there are five toes on it, whilst this one has only four” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 85). Thórarin Nefjólfsson did not dispute Olaf’s math and conceded victory to the king. Ultimately, however, both participants in the bet received what they wanted. The Icelander was named a member of King Olaf’s retinue, and Thórarin Nefjólsson completed an errand for the king by transporting an exiled Norwegian to Iceland.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Scene of Thorarin Nefjolfsson and King Olaf II illustrated by Christian Krohg (1852–1925), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.

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 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.

Æthelred The Unready Lost A Large Portion Of His Navy Due To His Feuding Vassals

Æthelred the Unready (r. 978-1016) ruled England during one of its darkest ages. As early as 980, he was faced with an influx of Viking activity the likes of which had not been seen since the days of Alfred the Great (r. 871-899). Yet, unlike Alfred, who was eventually able to adapt his forces to effectively combat the Scandinavian threat to his kingdom, Æthelred the Unready seemed hopelessly incapable of utilizing his resources in a way that could defeat his enemies. As portrayed in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Æthelred’s style of defense was evidently to let his regional ealdormen defend their own domains against the Vikings, and if the ealdormen failed, Æthelred would pay the Vikings money in hopes that they would leave. The king apparently mobilized his army on very few occasions, and when he did personally go on the march, it was often a punitive mission against his own people. Æthelred did, however, raise fleets against the Viking threat, yet something always seemed to go wrong when the English ships were gathered together.

According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, it was as late as 992 when Æthelred the Unready decided to make a concerted effort to mobilize his navy against the Vikings. That fiasco ended with the admiral in charge of the English fleet defecting to the Vikings (read about this in more detail HERE). After that incident, Æthelred the Unready apparently reverted to his previous strategy of paying money to the Vikings, especially when too many of his ealdormen began to die in battle. Yet, in 1007, after numerous ealdormen had been slain in Viking raids and after four payments of tribute had been made to the invaders, Æthelred the Unready finally announced a kingdom-wide edict commanding that new ships and armor be built across England.

By 1009, enough ships had been constructed to make some of the Englishmen feel hopeful of their future. Yet, as had happened the last time Æthelred raised his fleet against the Vikings, something bizarre occurred to thwart the unlucky king’s plans. Unfortunately for Æthelred, two of his powerful vassals decided to start quarreling in 1009. The two people in question were Ealdorman Brihtric and a certain powerful lord of Sussex called Wulfnoth Cild. Æthelred failed to reconcile the two noblemen, and, even worse, the king openly gave his support to Brihtric. Infuriated, Wutlfnoth Cild commandeered twenty English ships that were docked in his domain and used them to raid southern England.

When news of the raids spread, Ealdorman Brihtric quickly offered to hunt down his rogue rival and the king agreed to the plan.  In addition to his vocal support, King Æthelred the Unready also put Brihtric in command of eighty newly-built ships. Now at the helm of a large armada, Brihtric sailed off to capture or kill his enemy. Yet, the battle between the foes never occurred—in a tragic twist of fate, Brihtric’s fleet was ravaged by a massive tempest that left all eighty of his ships damaged or sunk. When Wulfnoth heard of his rival’s distress, he reportedly sailed to the shipwrecks and set fire to all of the vessels that happened to still be afloat.

According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the naval disaster between Brihtric and Wulfnoth was a breaking point in the reign of Æthelred the Unready. With the destruction of Brihtric’s eighty ships and the other twenty ships of Wulfnoth still on the loose, Æthelred the Unready apparently abandoned his shipbuilding project and England fell into a state of overwhelming depression. The chronicler in charge of recording the events of 1009 wrote, “When this was thus known to the other ships where the king was, how the others had fared, it was as if all counsel was at an end, and the king, and the ealdormen, and the high ‘witan’ went home, and thus lightly left the ships” (ASC, 1009).

The English ships lost that year were sorely missed. Before 1009 had ended, the general regions of Kent, Hampshire, Berkshire, Sussex and Essex faced Viking activity, while the more specific locations of Sandwich, Canterbury, Chiltern, Oxford, Staines and London were also mentioned as having been targeted by raiders. With such a combination of bad luck and ineffective defense, it is unsurprising that the Danes overran England by 1013 and forced Æthelred the Unready to flee to Normandy.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Bayeux Tapestry. Scene 39, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Ethelred-the-Unready 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Sweyn-I  

According To Tradition, King Olaf I Of Norway Was Enslaved As A Child

Tryggvi Olafsson was a grandson of the first King of all Norway, Harald Finehair (ruled approximately 860-940). Tryggvi’s cousins, the sons of Eirik Bloodaxe (r. 940-945), conquered Norway around 961, after they dealt a mortal wound to King Hákon the Good (r. 946-961). Yet, even though the sons of Eirik were proven warriors and had royal blood in their veins, Tryggvi and other nobles worked together to resist the brothers. Jarl Hákon Sigurdsson of the Trondheim region led an open rebellion against the sons of Eirik after his father was assassinated in 963 and Tryggvi was one of the Norwegian chieftains that lent the rebels his support. Unfortunately, supporting Jarl Hákon put a target on Tryggvi’s back and he was ultimately assassinated by the sons of Eirik around 968. According to tradition, Tryggvi’s wife, Astrid, was pregnant at the time of her husband’s death. When the grim news arrived, she immediately fled from Norway. Her son, Olaf Tryggvason, was reportedly born while she was on the run.

As told in the sagas, Astrid and her newborn child escaped to Sweden, where they stayed until young Olaf was three years old. Yet, when agents of the sons of Eirik came looking for them, Astrid decided to relocate to Novgorod or Kiev, where Vladimir the Great (prince of Novgorod r. 970-972 and Grand Prince of Kiev 980-1015) was ascending to power. With this in mind, Astrid and her young son boarded a merchant ship and set sail for the lands of the Kievan Rus. Nevertheless, according to legend, the merchant ship never reached its destination.

Astrid and Olaf were reportedly thrown into chaos even before they reached mainland Europe. As the story goes, Vikings or raiders attacked the merchant ship somewhere in the Baltic Sea. The traders were overpowered and the assailants boarded the ship, seizing the cargo and passengers, alike. According to the sagas, Olaf Tryggvason and his mother were captured and separated. Astrid was hauled away to some unknown grisly fate, while young Olaf was shipped over to Estonia, where he was sold into slavery. The pirates apparently bartered him in exchange for a goat and then he was supposedly traded once more for a good cloak. According to the tale, Olaf Tryggvason remained a slave in Estonia for about six years, mainly working as an enslaved farmhand. Thankfully, Olaf was apparently discovered and freed by his uncle, Sigurd Eiriksson, who fulfilled Astrid’s wishes by bringing Olaf to the domain of Vladimir the Great.

Whether or not this is truly how Olaf Tryggvason spent his childhood, the real historical figure certainly lived his early years in exile from Norway and eventually became quite the adventurer. Anglo-Saxon accounts of Olaf’s Viking raids in Britain are some of the first definitive accounts of his burgeoning military career. He somehow became a companion of King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark and accompanied the Danish king on great Viking expeditions against England in 991 and 994. Finally, in 995, Olaf Tryggvason returned to Norway and usurped power from Jarl Hákon Sigurdsson (who had by then defeated the sons of Eirik with the help of the Danes).  King Olaf Tryggvason ruled Norway from 995 until his death in 1000. As for Olaf's mother, Astrid, the sagas claim she was eventually found in an Estonian slave market by a certain Lothin of Vik, who bought her freedom and brought Astrid back to Norway, eventually making her his bride.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (A depiction of a scene from the saga of Olaf, by Halfdan Egedius (1877–1899), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-Tryggvason 
• http://avaldsnes.info/en/informasjon/olav-tryggvason/ 
• http://penelope.uchicago.edu/~grout/encyclopaedia_romana/britannia/anglo-saxon/maldon/olaftryggvason.html 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Harald-II-Eiriksson 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Harald-I-king-of-Norway 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Haakon-I-Adalsteinsfostre 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Haakon-Sigurdsson 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Vladimir-I