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 Verbal Reaction Of The Swedish King To Saint Olaf’s Rise In Norway

Saint Olaf (King Olaf II Haraldsson “the Stout”) ended foreign domination of Norway around 1015 by defeating, or forcing into exile, jarls who had sworn fealty (or at least deference) to Sweden and Denmark. Saint Olaf’s ascendance infuriated the king of Sweden, whose influence had been widely felt in Norway before the upstart saint-king asserted Norwegian independence. Such friction caused a multi-year feud between the two monarchs, who, despite their political rivalry, were quite similar—both were Christian rulers in predominantly Norse kingdoms, and they were both named Olaf (Olaf II of Norway and Olaf I of Sweden). Yet, when Saint Olaf of Norway curtailed Swedish influence and tax collection in Norwegian lands, it became understandably difficult for the like-minded monarchs to get along. The taxation issue was especially irksome to the Swedish ruler, as he was known as Olaf I “the Tax King.”

By 1017, Saint Olaf had consolidated his power in Norway, and was able to set his eye on foreign policy. Further infuriating the Swedish king, Saint Olaf reportedly began reaching out to vassals under Sweden’s influence to arrange trade deals and non-aggression pacts. During this time, the Swedish king was said to have been so angry about Saint Olaf’s successes that he banned the Norwegian king’s name from being uttered in his court. According to the Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), whose sources were often the verses of court poets, the Swedish king ordered that his courtiers refer to the pesky Norwegian monarch as “that fat man” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 67).

The two Olafs, however, finally made peace around 1019, and Saint Olaf eventually married the Swedish king’s daughter, Astrid, making the two formerly hostile monarchs in-laws. In contrast to his early reign, Saint Olaf would increasingly rely on his Swedish relations in his later life. When Canute the Great of England and Denmark took over Norway in 1028, Saint Olaf was said to have fled to his wife’s family for shelter, and when Olaf launched his unsuccessful attempt to regain the Norwegian throne in 1030, he was aided by his Swedish brother-in-law, Anund Jakob.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Seated table scene created 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 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf  

The Back-And-Forth Heists For Saint Olaf’s Cargo

Around 1015, Saint Olaf (King Olaf II Haraldsson) ended his career as a Viking and mercenary to proclaim himself ruler of Norway. His ascension ended fifteen years of foreign domination in Norway, as prior to Olaf’s appearance, the Norwegian jarls had been paying tribute to Denmark and Sweden. Therefore, Saint Olaf spent his inaugural year forcing the Norwegian jarls into submission or exile, and systematically rooted out foreign tax collectors from his lands. Yet, even after asserting Norway’s independence and gaining the title of king, Saint Olaf ‘s court was missing some final touches. It had been around fifteen years since Norway had last been ruled by its own king, and Olaf found the realm inadequately supplied with regal robes, rare pelts, fine tablecloths, and other such items that any self-respecting monarch might need. In order to obtain these goods, Saint Olaf was said to have partnered with a merchant by the name of Guthleik Gerzki, a prominent trader who knew his way around the Baltic Sea markets.

After forming a contract with Saint Olaf, Guthleik Gerzki set sail around 1016 to procure all the regalia and adornments that the Norwegian monarch desired. His first stop was the island of Gotland, but the merchant soon continued on his way, traveling across the sea and going inland to the trade hub of Holmgard, which is now called Novgorod. There, Guthleik Gerzki was able to find everything on his shopping list, so he began his return trip to Norway on a ship laden with robes, cloth and fur intended for Saint Olaf’s court.

Unfortunately for Guthleik Gerzki, he was living in the Viking Age, and the Baltic Sea was no less dangerous than the English Channel in regards to pirate raids. Furthermore, as Saint Olaf’s ascendance had annoyed the Danish and Swedish monarchs, Vikings were further incentivized to attack Norwegian ships, as they might be rewarded by their kings for damaging Saint Olaf’s interests. With this in mind, a certain Thorgaut Skardi, a Swede of uncertain rank, learned of Saint Olaf’s partnership with the merchant, and when he gathered this information, Thorgaut was determined not to let Guthleik Gerzki return to Norway. Through gossip and spies, Thorgaut was able to track down the merchant and intercepted him in the waters off the mainland of Sweden, presumably near the island of Öland. Guthleik was caught completely off guard by the attack, and he and his crew were quickly overpowered. Without much difficulty, Thorgaut slew Guthleik and stole the expensive cargo that was meant for Saint Olaf. After obtaining this loot, Thorgaut sailed back to Sweden, intending to give the best items of the haul to the Swedish king.

News of Guthleik Gerzki’s death, and the seizure of Saint Olaf’s goods, spread with incredible speed to Norway. The theft particularly infuriated a man named Eyvind Urarhorn, an able supporter of Saint Olaf who had a history of hunting down foreign tax collectors in Norway. As he was skilled at tracking foreign agents, Eyvind took it upon himself to recover his monarch’s stolen cargo. On his own initiative, he was said to have sailed to the island of Öland and there began tracking his prey along the coast of Sweden. As the story goes, Eyvind Urarhorn succeeded in intercepting Thorgaut Skardi before the pirate could reach the Swedish king. Eyvind reportedly killed Thorgaut, reclaimed the stolen cargo for Norway, and brought the merchandise back to Saint Olaf by the fall of 1017, finally uniting the king with his long-delayed royal robes, tablecloths and furs.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Norwegians landing in Iceland, painted by Oscar Wergeland (1844–1910), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

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

Saint Olaf And The Assassination Of Eilif The Gaut

Saint Olaf (King Olaf II Haraldsson of Norway) was not a typical saint. Before becoming a supporter and spreader of Christianity, he was also a Viking and a conqueror who, around 1015, proclaimed himself king of an independent Norway. In the fifteen years prior to Saint Olaf’s bid for power, Norway had been divvied up between jarls who paid homage either to Sweden or Denmark. Saint Olaf, the battle-hardened and experienced Viking, beat these jarls into submission or exile, and toured his newly won kingdom, from region to region, forcing out foreign tax collectors and making sure all sections of Norway knew that they had a new king. Many regions submitted willingly to Olaf’s dominion, some needed coercion, while others wanted help ridding themselves of Swedish or Danish agents before they could openly join Saint Olaf’s cause. Of that latter category was a community in the southeast borderlands of Norway. This group, according to the Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), lived in a location called Ranríki, which was at the time dominated by a Swedish nobleman by the name of Eilíf the Gaut. Saint Olaf, in order to gain the support of Ranríki, would embark on a formidable campaign of espionage, infiltration, and finally assassination.

When Saint Olaf arrived in the vicinity of Ranríki, he apparently found the inhabitants of the region split between those who wanted to remain under Swedish influence and those who wished to join Olaf. There was reportedly enough sympathy for Sweden in the region, or at least fear of the Swedish nobleman Eilíf the Gaut, that the local faction in favor of Norwegian independence was hesitant to voice open support for Saint Olaf. A region with such a split in allegiance could have been a problem for Saint Olaf if he had wandered blindly into that political quagmire. Fortunately for him, he had an effective system of spies and informants. Using those subtle assets, Saint Olaf was able to discover and contact Brynjólf “the Camel,” a leadership figure among the locals who were in favor of separating from Swedish influence. Eilíf the Gaut, in contrast, apparently did not know that Brynjólf supported Norwegian independence, much less that the man had made contact with Saint Olaf.

The secret of Brynjólf the Camel’s pro-independence sympathies was pivotal to Saint Olaf’s mission in Ranríki. Saint Olaf reportedly sent with Brynjólf twelve special warriors, who were led by a certain Thórir the Long. These warriors were said to have disguised themselves as farmers and, when Eilíf the Gaut began rallying his supporters in response to Saint Olaf’s arrival in the region, Brynjólf and the disguised agents infiltrated the pro-Swedish militia. As Brynjólf the Camel and Thórir the Long were both capable men, Eilíf the Gaut brought them into his inner circle and allowed them close access to his person. At this point, Saint Olaf’s agents could have assassinated poor, unsuspecting Eilíf at any opportune time. Yet, Saint Olaf apparently wanted the final, decisive blow to occur in a public and showy event.

As the story goes, Brynjólf the Camel and Thórir the Long were able to convince Eilíf to meet with Saint Olaf near a cliff for peace talks. Saint Olaf reportedly took up position atop the defensible cliff, while Eilíf the Gaut arrived with his militia of farmers, as well as a smaller loyal band of warriors from Sweden, and set up on the beach below the steep slope. Although the cliffside separated the two forces, both camps were within speaking (or shouting) distance, allowing for negotiations to occur. Saint Olaf, or his marshal, opened up the talks by delivering a speech, saying the typical things that would be expected if they were truly there to seek peace. When the speech was over, Eilíf the Gaut readied himself to deliver his own speech.

Unfortunately, Eilíf reportedly did not get a chance to utter a single line. According to Snorri Sturluson, “Eilíf arose and started to speak. In the same instant Thórir the Long stood up, drew his sword, and struck Eilíf on the neck so that his head flew off” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 61). When Eilíf the Gaut was assassinated, Brynjólf the Camel and his pro-independence comrades showed their allegiance, attacking the Swedish warriors who had accompanied Eilíf to the meeting. Before long, the startled band off Swedes fled, leaving behind a shocked militia of Sweden-sympathetic farmers to the mercy of Saint Olaf and Brynjólf the Camel. As the story goes, Saint Olaf calmed the confused masses and convinced them to submit to him without any further bloodshed.

Brynjólf’s role in the successful operation in Ranríki did not go unnoticed by Saint Olaf. The saint-king reportedly gave the man a gold-inlaid sword as a gift, as well as a large manorial estate called Vettaland. The two reportedly remained life-long friends.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Saga of Olaf illustration, 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  

In Norse Myth, Odin’s Forefathers Had A Peculiarly Bovine Origin Story

According to Norse myth, or at least to the tradition that was handed down to the Icelandic chief, Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), the high god of the Scandinavian pantheon, Odin, had a very odd ancestry. Although Odin was called the All-Father, and was said to be a builder of worlds and humankind, Norse myth told that there was also life and land before the birth of Odin. As the story goes, inhospitable realms such as blazing Muspelheim and cold, dark Niflheim came into being long before the advent of Odin. Between the two realms was a great void, called Ginnungagap, where heat and cold met. Ice from Niflheim encountered the warmth of Muspelheim, causing the ice to melt into a primordial soup. From the slush came the first giant, Ymir, as well as a great primeval cow, called Audhumla. The colossal cow was so large that from her udders poured four rivers of milk, which nourished Ymir and his descendants.

While Ymir was bizarrely spawning new giants from sweat on his arms and legs, Audhumla spent her time licking at a salty block of ice. The ice, however, was hiding a nasty surprise—after an unknown amount of time, hair emerged. As the cow kept licking the ice, a whole humanoid head began to appear. Finally, after three days of laborious licking, Audhmula excavated a living person from the ice—it was Buri, Odin’s grandfather.

Buri had a son named Bor with an unnamed woman, and Bor married a giantess named Bestla, daughter of Bolthorn the giant. From Bor and Bestla was born Odin, as well as two other sons. Unfortunately for those living at that time, Odin and all who would follow him detested the giants. Odin and the sons of Bor eventually slew the first giant, Ymir, and butchered his body. They filled the void, Ginnungagap, with Ymir’s blood, flesh and bones, creating from it the seas and continents of Midgard (Middle Earth). In their newly constructed realm, Odin and his brothers encountered the first trees, and from that wood they were said to have fashioned the first humans.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image of Audhumla and Buri from a medieval text, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

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

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.

The Poetry Behind Snorri Sturluson’s Scandinavian History

Any person who enjoys learning about the history and religion of ancient and medieval Northern European countries is heavily indebted to a curious Icelandic chieftain named Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241). Between his schemes for power in Iceland, and his travels to Norway and Sweden for political support, Sturluson somehow managed to write down several books of mythology and history.  His treasure-trove of Norse mythology was preserved in The Prose Edda, while his dramatic collection of biographical sagas on centuries of Norwegian kings was collected into the Heimskringla.

Understandably, it took considerable effort for Snorri Sturluson to gather the information required to produce works that, in many ways, still serve as the foundational pieces of Scandinavian studies. The great scholar-chieftain had multiple types of sources. For one, he was an Icelander, so he had easy access to an array of Icelandic sagas that were written before his own life. He also made use of historical texts, such as works of the Icelander, Ari Thorgilsson the Learned (1067-1148), as well as numerous other existent biographies and histories devoted to important figures. In addition, Snorri Sturluson made use of oral tradition, pulling on tales he collected in Iceland, Norway and Sweden. Yet, there was another source of information that Sturluson heavily relied upon. Believe it or not, poetry was one of his greatest assets.

Even though poems written about Scandinavian kings (or any monarchs anywhere) were often overly flattering and grandiosely embellished, Snorri Sturluson deemed them to be full of historical detail. As a poet who had, himself, written verse for kings, Snorri Sturluson believed it was not in the best interest of court poets to overtly lie about the deeds of living rulers. Gilded truth would be rewarded, but baseless lies could be ridiculed. As such, Sturluson believed in the validity of poems that had been produced and recited during the lifetime of their respective royal subjects.

Even though Sturluson’s use of poetry as historical evidence may unnerve many modern historians, it served Snorri Sturluson’s purposes well. Like many ancient and medieval historians, Sturluson’s motivation was not necessarily just to write down the events of the past as they really happened—he was also an entertainer who was willing to sacrifice some historical accuracy for emotion and artistry. Despite all this, his writings preserved for later generations the names, locations, ideas and events of times past that may have otherwise been lost, and did so with enough accuracy to secure him recognition as a vital piece to Scandinavian history.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Image of an Icelandic Althing, c. 1904, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

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

King Harald’s Saga, by Snorri Sturluson, translated by Magnus Magnusson and Hermann Pálsson. New York: Penguin Books, 1966, 2005.