Tales About The Childhood Of King Harald Hardrada

Harald Sigurdsson was the half-brother of King Olaf II of Norway (r. 1015-1028). The half-brothers shared the same mother, Ásta, and she curiously gave birth to Harald around 1015, the same year that his half-brother, Olaf, launched his successful bid to claim the throne of Norway. Very little, unfortunately, is known about Harald’s early life—the Icelandic historian, Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), a major source for information on Harald, bemoaned that “We have no particular accounts about his youth until the age of fifteen, when he took part in the Battle of Stiklestad with his brother, King Olaf the Saint” (Heimskringla, King Harald’s Saga, chapter 99). Despite that statement, he did his best to find tales about Harald’s youth. Likely aided by his trips to Norway in 1218 and 1237, Snorri Sturluson uncovered three folkloric stories about the childhood of Harald Sigurdsson. As all three tales involved young Harald interacting with his reigning half-brother, King Olaf II, Snorri Sturluson filed the stories away inside his Saint Olaf’s Saga instead of the saga he wrote specifically about Harald.

All three of the stories about Harald Sigurdsson’s childhood were set around 1017, when he was three years old. To set the scene, King Olaf II had just crushed a conspiracy, toppling five minor kings in Norway during the process. After succeeding in his counter-intrigue, King Olaf II attended a feast prepared by his mother, Ásta. The feast proved to be a family reunion, as Olaf’s half-siblings were all present. Ásta, after remarrying following the death of Olaf’s father, had two daughters (Gunnhild and Ingrid), and three sons (Guthorm, Hálfdan and Harald). At the time of this feast, King Olaf did not yet have any known children, and, consequently, he was keeping an appraising eye on his half-brothers during the time they spent together, assessing which of them might be a worthy heir.

King Olaf II, for his first test, reportedly decided to see how his male siblings would react if he scared them. Acting like a typical older brother, King Olaf II found a good place to set an ambush for his unsuspecting siblings and waited for one of the boys to fall into his trap. When Guthorm and Hálfdan were caught by the king, all it took was for Olaf to stare at them with his fiercest, angriest countenance to make the two boys whimper and cry. When three-year-old Harald similarly found himself face to face with Olaf’s ferocious stare and scowl, he acted much differently than his older brothers. Under pressure from the king’s mightiest expression, the boy did not flinch, or squirm, or whimper. Instead, Harald stared right back at Olaf without showing any fear. Impressed (or frustrated), Olaf went a further step and tugged on a lock of Harald’s hair. Young Harald, however, did not take this lightly; he went on the counter-attack against Olaf. According to Snorri Sturluson, “The boy grabbed the king’s mustache and twitched it. Then the king said, ‘You are likely to be vindictive when you grow up, kinsman’” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 76).

After the scare campaign, King Olaf II decided to conduct the rest of his appraisals in a less obtrusive way. The next trial for the boys occurred a few days later, when Olaf found his young half-brothers playing by a pond. Guthorm and Hálfdan, at one end of the pond, had used materials scattered around the yard to build themselves makeshift farmhouses and animal sheds. Within this miniature play-village, Guthorm and Hálfdan pretended to be farmers. Leaving those two to their play, King Olaf II found three-year-old Harald at another end of the pond. Instead of pretending to be a farmer, young Harald was amusing himself by placing small chips of wood afloat on the water of the pond. After watching Harald set many of these woodchips out to sea (or pond), Olaf finally asked the boy what he was doing. According to Snorri Sturluson, “He replied they were his warships. Then the king laughed and said, ‘It may well be, kinsman, that the time will come when you will be in command of ships’” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 76).

Snorri Sturluson’s third tale about Harald Sigurdsson’s childhood occurred in a similar setting as the story laid out above. One day, reportedly still in 1017, Olaf II called together his three young half-brothers, Guthorm, Hálfdan and Harald. For his final test, the king simply asked the boys, “What would you most like to have?” Guthorm answered first, exclaiming that he wanted ten farms with fertile lands that would grow grain every summer. Halfdán agreed with his brother’s wish, but, instead of fields of grain, he wanted his ten farmlands to be filled with cows. Finally, it was young Harald’s turn to speak. After giving the question some thought, the boy proclaimed that he wanted loyal warriors. According to Snorri Sturluson, when Olaf asked how many warriors Harald wanted to lead, the boy answered, “So many that they would eat up all of my brother Hálfdan’s cows at a single meal” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 76). As the story goes, King Olaf was extremely pleased with Harald’s response. He made a note of it and the next time he saw Ásta, he referenced Harald and told her, “In him you are likely to bring up a king, mother’” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 76).

Despite these few interactions between King Olaf II and his young, promising half-brother in 1017, the rest of Harald Sigurdsson’s childhood remains incredibly obscure. Perhaps, this is because King Olaf II later had a son named Magnus in 1024, who became the assumed heir of Norway. Whatever the case, Canute the Great of England and Denmark would expel King Olaf II from Norway in 1028. Yet, King Olaf II returned to Norway in 1030, campaigning to regain his throne. It was at that time that Harald Sigurdsson finally reappeared, as a tall and strong fifteen-year-old warrior who joined the army of King Olaf II. According to Snorri Sturluson, King Olaf II was unsure if his teenage half-brother should fight in the upcoming famous Battle of Stiklestad, but Harald reassured him by saying, “By all means I shall take part in it, and if I am so weak as not to be able to wield a sword, then I know what to do: let my hand be tied to the haft” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 209). During that fateful battle in 1030, King Olaf II was slain and Harald wounded.

After Stiklestad, Harald Sigurdsson fled to the Rus and then to Constantinople. Back in Norway, Magnus Olafsson, Harald’s nephew and son of Olaf II, regained the throne of Norway in 1035. Meanwhile, Harald Sigurdsson became an accomplished mercenary and member of Constantinople’s Varangian Guard. Fighting battles throughout the Mediterranean, Harald gained renown as a warrior and amassed an unimaginable treasure, which he hid from his Byzantine employers. With his armed followers and his great haul of plundered loot, Harald Sigurdsson returned to Norway in 1045, where he negotiated a deal with his nephew, Magnus, in which he reportedly bought half of Norway in exchange for half of his treasure. As Olaf had predicted, Harald became a king (King Harald III of Norway), and gained such epithets as “the Ruthless” or “the Hard Ruler.” 

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (19th-century Image from page 39 of "Art and artists of our time" (1888), depicting Frithiof and Ingeborg, [Public Domain] via flickr.com and Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• King Harald’s Saga, by Snorri Sturluson, translated by Magnus Mangusson and Hermann Pálsson. New York: Penguin Books, 1966, 2005. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Harald-III-Sigurdsson 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-II-Haraldsson  
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Magnus-I-Olafsson  

The Raids Of Saint-King Olaf In England And The Brutal Execution Of An Archbishop of Canterbury

Olaf Haraldsson, born in 995, was a member of the Norwegian royal family and the alleged godson of the Christian King Olaf Tryggvason of Norway (r. 995-1000). Although Olaf Haraldsson eventually became the king of his homeland, he had to wait for his throne, as a Scandinavian coalition of Danes, Swedes and Norwegians killed Olaf Tyggvason and imposed a new regime on Norway. Nine years later, Olaf Haraldsson would have been in his early teens when England was hit by a massive wave of reinvigorated Viking activity—these invasions would eventually force the English king, Æthelred the Unready, to flee to Normandy. Olaf, who later became a respected figure in the medieval church, was among the Vikings who journeyed to England in the first decades of the 11th century. His behavior there, however, was not so saintly.

At the head of a fleet of ships with a veteran band of guardians and family friends, young Olaf reportedly reached the shores of England around 1009.  Commentary on what exactly he did in England from this point on is a curious topic. Sources such as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Florence of Worcester (d. 1118), Henry of Huntingdon (d. 1160), and the 11th-century court poets, Sigvat the Skald and Óttar the Black, who are also cited in the Saga of St. Olaf from the Heimskringla, all agree on the same setting and timeline of events. According to all of these texts, Viking armies were present at London in 1009, at East Anglia in 1010, and captured Canterbury between 1011 and 1012. The 11th-century Nordic sources place Olaf Haraldsson usually on the side of the Vikings during these battles and sieges. Yet, Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), the compiler of poems and writer of the Heimskringla, contradicted his sources (Sigvat and Óttar) and oddly placed Olaf on the side of the English at all times during his stay in Britain. Snorri Sturluson, however, was writing long after Olaf Haraldsson had become a beloved and respected figure in the church, and he may have been trying to paint this unsaintly period of Olaf’s life as rosily as possible. Olaf did indeed eventually aid the English, but that defection came as late as 1012, by which point he had been slaughtering Englishmen for years.

The reason Olaf Haraldsson is believed to have been in England in 1009 is because he was a witness to (and participant in) a Viking siege of London during the reign of Æthelred the Unready. Only in the year 1009, were both King Æthelred and Olaf alive at the time of a Viking siege of London. For that year, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle stated, “And they [the Vikings] often fought against the town of London, but to God be praise that it yet stands sound” (ASC 1009). The aforementioned Scandinavian skald, Óttar the Black, also wrote of the event:

“Boldly brokest London

Bridge’s towers, thou Odin’s-

Storm-of-steel’s keen urger,

Striving to win England.”

(cited in Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 13)

Perhaps, as Snorri Sturluson claimed, Olaf’s participation in the attack on London Bridge was a move to help the English—Óttar the Black was also cited as stating, “Landedst, and land gavest, liege-lord to Æthelred [the Unready]. Much did need thee, mighty man of war, the sovran” (cited in Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 13). Then again, due to the unknown location of these lines in the skald’s original poem, the “land gavest” phase in Olaf’s relationship with Æthelred the Unready may have occurred years after the incident at London.

Olaf Haraldsson’s actions are easier to decipher when he reached East Anglia in 1010. The entry for that year in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle stated:

“the beforementioned army came to East Anglia, and went forthwith to where they understood Ulfkytel was with his force…And then the East Anglians immediately fled. Then Cambridgeshire stood firmly against them. There were slain Æthelstan, the king’s son-in-law, and Oswig and his son, and Wulfric Leofwine’s son, and Eadwig Æfic’s brother, and many other good thanes, and people out of number… And the Danes had possession of the place of carnage” (ASC 1010).

Óttar the Black, and his uncle Sigvat the Skald, both mentioned this event in their poems. They agreed with Anglo-Saxon sources that a large battle took place in the domain of Ulfkytel (or Ulfkel), specifically at a place that they called Hringmara Heath, which has been identified as Ringmere, East Anglia. Sigvat the Skald wrote:

“Even a seventh time Olaf

urged a bloody sword-thing

in the land of Ulfkel,

as I heard it told me.

Hringmara Heath full was—

high were piled the dead—of

Ella’s offspring [Englishmen], whom the

heir of Harald [Olaf Haraldsson] battled.”

(cited in Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 13)

Sigvat’s nephew, Óttar the Black, more clearly stressed that Olaf was battling the Anglo-Saxons, not fellow Norwegians or Danes, in his own poem about the battle:

“Liege-lord, then learned I that

laden was with corpses

Hringmara Heath all bloody,

when that inland you battled.

Bowed and overborne, king,

by you, country-folk of

England, awed, submitted

or else fled off headlong.”

(cited in Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 14)

After piling English dead high in East Anglia, Olaf followed a Viking force to Canterbury and participated in a Viking siege against the city in 1011. The poets, Sigvat and Óttar, claimed that Olaf played a leading role in the capture of Canterbury and caused great death and destruction in that city. Óttar the Black wrote:

“generous king, you captured

Canterbury in the morning.

Fiercely burning, firebrands

fell into houses, nor didst,

liege-lord, learned I, spare the

lives of luckless burghers.”

(cited in Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 15)

Anglo-Saxon sources corroborated that Canterbury was captured and burned by Vikings in 1011. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and the Chronicle of Florence of Worcester provided much more information than the Nordic Skalds. They claimed that the city was betrayed to the Vikings by a certain abbot or archdeacon named Ælmar, and that Archbishop Ælfeah of Canterbury (also spelled Elphege or Alphege) was among the prominent people captured during the sack of the city. In his entry for year 1011, Florence of Worcester wrote:

“they [the Vikings] dug a trench round Canterbury, and laid siege to it. On the twentieth day of the siege, through the treachery of the archdeacon Ælmar, whose life St. Elphege had formerly saved, one quarter of the city was set on fire, the army entered, and the place was taken…Meanwhile, Alphage, the archbishop, was seized, and being loaded with fetters was imprisoned and tortured in various ways. Ælmar, the abbot of St. Augustine’s monastery, was permitted to depart; Godwin, bishop of Rochester, was made prisoner, as well as Leofruna, abbess of St. Mildred, Alfred, the king’s reeve, with the monks and canons, and vast numbers of the people of both sexes…When the people had been thus slaughtered, and the city pillaged and burnt to the ground, Alphege, the archbishop, was brought out in fetters and dragged along, severely wounded, to the ships” (Florence of Worcester, AD 1011).

The Viking force that sacked Canterbury kept Archbishop Ælfeah captive for the remainder of the year, as well as several months into the next. They were apparently hoping to ransom the archbishop for a hefty sum of money. Archbishop Ælfeah and the Vikings, however, did not get along at all. As the months went on and no ransom was promised, the raiders became more and more loathsome of the clergyman. By April of 1012, the Vikings finally reached their limit and decided to kill the archbishop. Ælfeah’s gruesome and chaotic death was reported by the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle:

“Then on the Saturday the army was greatly excited against the bishop, because he would not promise them any money, but forbade that anything should be given for him. They were also very drunk, for wine had been brought thither from the South. They then took the bishop, led him to their ‘husting’ [assembly]…and there shamefully murdered him; they pelted him with bones and with the heads of oxen; and one of them struck him on the head with an axe-iron, so that with the dint he sank down, and his holy blood fell on the earth, and his holy soul he sent forth to God’s kingdom” (ASC 1012).

The sack of Canterbury and the subsequent execution of Archbishop Ælfeah may have been a turning point for Olaf. According to the Anglo-Saxon sources, a sizable force from the Vikings that sacked Canterbury decided to split from the rest of the raiders not long after the killing of the archbishop. This splinter group (which likely included Olaf) then formed a mercenary contract with the English king before the end of 1012. On this event, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle stated, “Then submitted to the king [Æthelred the Unready], from the army, five and forty ships, and promised him that they would defend this country; and he was to feed and clothe them” (ASC 1012). The appearance of this band of 45 mercenary Viking ship crews meshes well with Snorri Sturluson’s statement that, after the events of Canterbury, “King Olaf had under him the defense of England” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 15). The poet Sigvat also wrote a verse about Olaf, which emphasized that he battled both Englishmen and Danes during his expedition in England:

“Scatheless, in that skirmish

scalps red he gave the English.

Dark-red billowed blood on

blades in Nÿjamótha.

Now have I nine battles

named for thee, king of Norway.

Danes fell where the deadly

dart-storm raged ‘gainst Olaf.”

(cited in Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 15)

Olaf Haraldsson (and Æthelred the Unready, for that matter) would not be staying in England for long. King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark (r. 986-1014)—one of the leaders from the coalition that had killed the previous king of Norway—arrived in England with a large force in 1013. Either upon or just before King Sweyn’s appearance in England, Olaf Haraldsson decided it was the opportune time to end his mercenary contract with England and to instead go raiding and adventuring on the European mainland. He was said to have pillaged regions of Spain, and then sailed to Normandy by 1013, where he may have been baptized or re-baptized, as he had reportedly already been given a semblance of a baptismal ceremony as a child in 998, during the reign of his godfather, Olaf Tryggvason. Well-traveled and reinvigorated in faith, Olaf Haraldsson returned to his homeland to seize the Norwegian throne around 1015.

Back in England, the legend of the slain Archbishop Ælfeah grew and the martyr was considered a saint by the mid-to-late 11th century. Ironically, Archbishop Ælfeah might have been beaten to sainthood by one of the Vikings who possibly was present at his execution. King Olaf Haraldsson, upon seizing power in Norway, devoted great attention to converting his subjects to the Christian religion, if not by the persuasion of his missionaries, then by the force of his military. His dedication to the conversion of Norway to Christianity apparently far outweighed his earlier Viking career and his likely involvement in the killing of an archbishop of Canterbury. King Olaf Haraldsson was slain in battle in 1030, and only one year later he was canonized as a saint. Reverence for Saint Olaf spread far and wide in Christendom—both the Roman Church and the Orthodox Church of Constantinople recognized his sainthood.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Scene from the Saga of Olaf Tryggvason, illustrated by Halfdan Egedius (1877–1899), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
• The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854. 
• 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/Sweyn-I 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Aelfheah 
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/people/history/scandinavian-history-biographies/olaf-ii 
• http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/11234a.htm 
• https://archive.org/details/chroniclehenryh00foregoog/page/n229  

Irish Hermit Monks Were Said To Have Inhabited Iceland Before Scandinavian Settlers

Several Irish Christian anchorites (holy-men seeking seclusion from society) reportedly discovered and lived in Iceland before the arrival of pagan settlers from Scandinavia. As questions like “which nation arrived first?” and “which religion was here first?” can inspire nationalistic and theological biases, the existence of such anchorites on Iceland remains hotly debated to this day. Some scholars want to entirely disregard written sources about the Irish anchorites in Iceland until archaeological evidence is found. Other scholars take a more literalist approach and want to blindly believe written records unless archaeology proves the sources wrong. Here, however, we will take a neutral stance and present the earliest written evidence behind the idea that Irish anchorites were present on Iceland, doing this simply for public awareness and intellectual entertainment—the metaphorical “food for thought.”

It is believed that the earliest person to claim that Irish hermits had set up camp in Iceland was the Irish monk, Dicuil, who published a text called Concerning the Measurement of the World in the year 825. In the work, Dicuil claimed that three Irish anchorites sailed to the mysterious island of “Thule” around 795. The so-called island of Thule has a history stretching back to the 4th century BCE, when the Greek explorer, Pytheas, found a large landmass (which he named Thule) after having sailed for nearly a week out into the sea off the northern coast of the British Isles. The identity of Pytheas’ Thule is still debated—many believe the explorer found Iceland, yet others think he may have reached Norway, instead.

It is unsurprising that we are not in agreement on the location of Thule, as even the ancients did not seem to know exactly where to find Pytheas’ Thule. By the time Julius Agricola was the Roman governor in Britannia (r. 77-84 CE), his fleet apparently believed Shetland was Thule. With multiple islands being called Thule by various authors, modern scholars have a difficult task of using the geographical description and latitude information to differentiate the regions. In the case of the 9th-century monk, Dicuil, his description of Thule has convinced many that he was referring to Iceland. The renowned Icelandic scholar and translator, Hermann Pálsson made mention of Dicuil in the introduction of his translation of The Book of Settlements. On Dicuil’s Thule, Hermann Pálsson confidently wrote, “The latitude he assigns to ‘Thule’ makes it certain that this must have been Iceland” (Pálsson, Landnámabók introduction, 1972, reprint 2006).

Another source from outside of Iceland is the Historia Norvegiae (History of Norway), an anonymous work that is believed to have been written in the 12th century. In that text, monkish figures called “Papae” were said to have lived on islands scattered around the British Isles before the arrival of Norse settlers. The anonymous author explained the title given to the religious figures by stating, “the Papae have been named from their white robes, which they wore like priests; whence priests are all called papae in the Teutonic tongue” (trans. A. O. Anderson, Early Sources of Scottish History, vol. I, 330-2). The author of the Historia Norvegiae did not specifically mention Iceland as a destination of these so-called papae, yet if they were sailing to places such as the Orkney Islands, who is to say that they did not keep sailing farther out.

Although the Historia Norvegiae did not connect the Papae to Iceland, another 12th-century writer did make that connection. Ari Thorgilsson the Learned (c. 1068-1148) was the first known historian of Iceland to write in the Icelandic vernacular and he claimed that when Norwegian settlers first arrived in Iceland, they found a few Irish monks already present on the island. This claim was first written in Ari’s text, the Book of Icelanders (Islendingabók). The assertion was later repeated in the Book of Settlements (Landnámabók), of which Ari the Learned is thought to have been a major contributor or original author. The Book of Settlements became a generational affair, with numerous versions being produced over the centuries and additional information included in each new edition.

There are five existent versions of the Book of Settlements, the oldest of which is the Stulubók (produced c. 1275-1280). The Stulubók and the Islendingabók have a nearly identical passage about the existence of Irish monks in Iceland before the arrival of Scandinavian settlers. Sturla Thordarson, the author of the Sturlubók, wrote, “before Iceland was settled from Norway there were other people there, called Papar by the Norwegians. They were Christians and were thought to have come overseas from the west, because people found Irish books, bells, croziers, and lots of other things, so it was clear they must have been Irish” (Sturlubók, chapter 1, trans. Hermann Pálsson, 1976, 2006). Ari Thorgilsson’s earlier account matched that of Sturla Thordarson except that Ari also claimed that the Christian monks left Iceland after the arrival of the Norse settlers. Ari the Learned was also slightly less committal to the monks’ origin—whereas Sturla claimed it was “clear” that the monks were Irish, Ari wrote “one could perceive” the monks of having an Irish origin based off of the evidence left behind (the books, bells, croziers, etc…). Although the Book of Settlements and the Book of Icelanders both mention Christian relics being left behind by the monks, no convincing archaeological remains of such pre-settlement items (or of the monks who left them there) has yet been discovered on Iceland.

In addition to the lack of physical evidence, some have questioned the truthfulness of Ari the Learned on the claim of Irish monks in Iceland because of Ari’s close connections to the See of Skalholt in Christianized Iceland. Like most medieval scholars, Ari received much of his education through the church, and two of his greatest patrons were the bishops, Thorlak Runolfsson of Skalholt and Ketil Thorsteinsson of Holar. Nevertheless, the question of whether or not Ari the Learned and other Christian scholars in Iceland would lie about the pre-settlement Irish monks is a debate of opinion, not fact. As of now, with no archaeological evidence to prove or disprove the claims, historians can only fall back on the stereotypical government response—we can neither confirm nor deny the existence of Irish monks in Iceland before the arrival of Norse settlers. Yet, although the existence of the monks cannot be confirmed, a majority of the historical community still seems to give Ari Thorgilsson and his successors the benefit of the doubt on their claim that Irish monks were present on Iceland before the time of settlement.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Public Domain: (An image from the tale of Saint Brendan, published by the Franciscan Sisters of the Perpetual Adoration (La Crosse, Wis.), c. early 1900s, [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. 
• http://www.paparproject.org.uk/introduction.html#6 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Dicuil 
• http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Gazetteer/People/Dicuil/Britannica_1911*.html 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Ari-Thorgilsson-the-Learned 
• https://www.britannica.com/place/Iceland/Government-and-society#ref10088 
• https://www.historyireland.com/pre-norman-history/the-arctic-irish-fact-or-fiction/ 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Pytheas  

10 More Fun Viking-Age Names And The Stories Of The People They Belonged To

The heyday of the Viking age occurred between the eighth and eleventh centuries. Yet, some Scandinavian noblemen continued to embark on Viking-like activities well into the twelfth century. Jarl Rognvald Kali of Orkney (r. 1137-1158) was one such nobleman and he ironically was said to have gone raiding in the Mediterranean while on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The Viking Age is a well-documented period, with sources from multiple sides and viewpoints. Viking Age kings wrote about their accomplishments on stone monuments, and historians such as the Icelandic Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241) and the Danish Saxo Grammaticus (c. 12th-13th century) later narrated events from the perspective of Norway and Denmark. There are also substantial sources from the regions attacked by Vikings, such as chroniclers based in the British Isles and France. With such a wealth of information, much is known about the key figures from the Viking Age and their exploits during that chaotic time. Yet, Viking Age Scandinavians did not excel at only daring raids and bold seamanship—they also had some of the most creative names in all of Europe. We previously published an article listing ten fun and unique names from the Viking Age (check it out HERE), yet that was barely scratching the surface. Here are ten more fun names and a brief summary of their lives in the Viking Age.

1) Einar Buttered-Bread: This curious character reportedly lived in the 10th century and is mentioned in the Orkneyinga saga. Einar Buttered-Bread was said to have been a well-respected chieftain in Orkney, yet he had a remarkable fall from grace. He eventually assassinated a certain Jarl Havard of Orkney, causing a power-struggle to erupt. According to the saga, Einar Buttered-Bread was killed by another claimant to the jarldom. For a more in-depth look at Einar’s life and the power-struggle in Orkney, read our article HERE.

2) Killer-Hrapp: According to the Laxdæla saga, Hrapp was a 10th-century Hebridean immigrant to Iceland. He set up a farmstead called Hrappsstadir and, when he died, was buried upright under his kitchen. It is unclear when he was given his nickname, Killer-Hrapp, but he lived up to his reputation even after death. The ghost of Killer-Hrapp reportedly haunted Hrappsstadir and the locals were so afraid of his supernatural power that Hrapp’s body was exhumed and reburied in an uninhabited forest. His remains were later discovered under a cowshed belonging to the Hjardarholt farmstead, which was also plagued by hauntings. When the remains were located, Killer-Hrapp’s body was exhumed for a second time and burned. For a detailed account of Killer-Hrapp’s hauntings, check out our article, HERE.

3) Olaf Peacock: Olaf Hoskuldsson Peacock owned Hjardarholt and was the man who burned Killer-Hrapp’s body. In the Laxdæla saga, Olaf was described as a wealthy chieftain who sailed to Norway and Ireland. Wherever he went, Olaf seemed to obtain items of great wealth and value (read about his gilded belongings, HERE). Such lavish possessions, as well as his prideful preening, were reportedly the inspiration behind his nickname, Peacock. His life is dated to around 938-1006.

4) Sweyn the Sacrificer: Also known as Sacrifice-Sweyn or Blot-Sweyn, he was an 11th-century Swede who resisted King Inge the Elder’s attempts to enforce Christianity in Sweden. He was apparently given his nickname, “the sacrificer,” because of his outspoken support for the traditional pagan sacrifices of the Norse religion. Sweyn the Sacrificer made appearances in sources such as the Heimskringla of Snorri Sturluson and the Orkneyinga saga. He reportedly put up a good fight against King Inge of Sweden, but Sweyn was ultimately assassinated.

5) Hallbjorn Slickstone-eye: Hallbjorn was a Hebridean who immigrated to Iceland in the 10th century with his parents and brother. According to the Laxdæla saga, his family settled in Skalmarfjord but were unwelcome and faced discrimination by the locals. Accused of theft and sorcery, Hallbjorn’s family fled to Kambsnes, Iceland. Yet, when a young boy died unexpectedly in the region, Hallbjorn’s family was accused of killing the child with witchcraft. In the ensuing witch-hunt, Hallbjorn Slickstone-eye’s entire family was subsequently hunted down and murdered. For a more lengthy account of this tragic story, read our article, HERE.

6) Svein Breast-Rope: According to the Orkneyinga saga, Svein Breast-Rope was a follower of Jarl Paul the Silent of Orkney (d. 1137). Svein had a rude and argumentative reputation and was not a popular man. He apparently became more competitive, jealous and belligerent as he drank. As could be expected, Svein Breast-Rope was eventually killed in a drunken brawl. Sadly, no one mourned his death—not even the local bishop.

7) Harald Graycloak: Harald Graycloak, also known as King Harald II, became the ruler of Norway in 961, following the death of his uncle, King Hákon the Good. Harald’s memorable name reportedly originated from a lordly gray sheepskin cloak that he often wore (check out our article on this cloak, HERE). Both Harald and his late uncle, Hákon, were reportedly Christian, but whereas Hákon took a minimalist approach to religion, Harald put more effort into converting Norway. His attempts to convert the population (as well as assassinations of prominent pagan chieftains) led to massive revolts against his rule. Harald Graycloak was eventually killed around 970 while in Denmark. After Harald’s death, the pagan Jarl Hákon Sigurdsson dominated Norway until 995.

8) Thord Dragon-Jaw: Thord appeared in a section of the Orkneyinga saga that described postmortem miracles attributed to Saint Magnus (d. 1117).  A hard-working but irreligious man, Thord Dragon-Jaw made the fateful decision to thresh barley late into the night on the eve of St. Magnus’ Mass. According to the story, the spirit of St. Magnus did not approve of Thord's conduct and struck the man with a good dose of holy insanity. For over six days, Thord Dragon-Jaw was consumed with madness. His condition was said to have only improved after a vigil was held and money was donated to the shrine of St. Magnus on Thord’s behalf. For more information on St. Magnus and his supernatural exploits, read our article, HERE.

9) Harald Smooth-Tongue: Harald Smooth-Tongue was a 12th-century jarl of Orkney. He shared power with his brother, Jarl Paul the Silent. He died a mysterious death and many believed foul play was involved. The Orkneyinga saga claimed that Harald Smooth-Tongue put on a poisoned garment and died in agony from whatever had been applied to the cloth.

10) An Twig-belly: According to the Laxdæla saga, a man named An the Black lived in Iceland around the turn of the 11th century. He was a devoted companion of Olaf Peacock’s sons and apparently had a gift for foreseeing trouble. In 1003, during a tense Icelandic feud, An the Black reportedly had a nightmare in which someone had gutted him and replaced his entrails with twigs. When he told his friends about the dream, they laughed it off and jovially threatened to give him a nickname based on the nightmare. Yet, people looked on the nightmare differently when An the Black and his friend, Kjartan Olafsson, were soon after ambushed on the road. Kjartan was killed and An was virtually disemboweled during the fight. Although Kjartan died, An miraculously recovered from his wounds. From then on, he was said to have been called An Twig-belly. He reportedly was killed in 1007, while trying to avenge Kjartan’s death.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Depiction of Norse explorers from a book by Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• Orkneyinga Saga, written anonymously approximately c. 1200, translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. New York: Penguin Classics, 1981. 
• Laxdæla saga by an unknown 13th century Icelander, translated by Keneva Kunz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.  

The Deadly Ghost Story Of Killer-Hrapp

According to Icelandic folklore, a belligerent and bullying farmer named Hrapp immigrated to Iceland from the Hebrides sometime in the 10th century. He built a farmstead called Hrappsstadir, which was adjacent to lands owned by the leading settlers of the Laxardal region in Iceland. As portrayed in the Laxdæla saga, which was centered on that region of Iceland, Hrapp and the dominant chieftain of the region, Hoskuld, jostled for power and influence in their community. Hrapp never surpassed Hoskuld in importance, yet the stubborn farmer maintained a fierce reputation in Laxardal until the day he died. He came to be known as Killer-Hrapp, but whether he gained this name before or after he died is unclear. Whatever the case, the legend of Killer-Hrapp only continued to grow after his death.

According to the saga, Hrapp died in the mid 10th century, either during the reign of King Hákon the Good of Norway (r. 946-961) or Harald II Graycloak (r. 961-970). Hrapp left his wife strict instructions for how he wanted to be buried—his wish was for his body to be laid to rest in an upright position underneath the threshold of the kitchen. The request was not unique; similar burials were made in at least three other sagas, including Hen-Thorir’s Saga, Saga of People of Svarfadardal, and the Saga of the People of Vatnsdal. Such a burial was thought to allow the spirit of the deceased to guard over the homestead and the people that were left behind.

Hrapp’s dutiful wife carried out her late husband’s wishes and buried him exactly as he had asked. According to the saga, the ritual was a success and the spirit of the deceased landowner became anchored to the farmstead. Yet, if the people of Hrappsstadir thought that the spirit would be a benevolent guardian, they were quickly and brutally shown just how wrong their assumption had been. In fact, the bullying and malicious nature of Killer-Hrapp was only amplified after his death. As the saga put it, “if it had been difficult to deal with him when he was alive, he was much worse dead, for he haunted the area relentlessly” (Laxdæla saga, chapter 17).  

Life at Hrappsstadir quickly became a nightmare. It did not take long for Killer-Hrapp to live up to his name. He haunted and frightened the whole region, but he seemed to have a special hate for his farm staff. On Hrapp’s dogged targeting of this unfortunate group of people, the Laxdæla saga reported, “It is said that in his hauntings he killed most of his servants” (chapter 17). The brutal haunting eventually caused the whole population of Hrappsstadir, including Hrapp’s widow and son, to flee from the farmstead, and the region became an abandoned ghost town.

The hauntings of Killer-Hrapp began to worry other regions of Laxardal, so the farmers petitioned the chieftain Hoskuld to do something about the deadly ghost. In response to his people’s pleas, Hoskuld gathered his courage and traveled to Hrappsstadir. There, he exhumed the body of Hrapp from underneath the farmstead’s kitchen and then had the remains reburied far away in a forest. To everyone’s relief, the relocation of the body drastically reduced the number of reported hauntings in Laxardal. Yet, although Killer-Hrapp’s supernatural influence over Hrappsstadir and Laxardal had been diluted by the exhumation of his body, the ghost found more subtle means to sow mayhem in the region.

After Hoskuld had restored a semblance of order to Hrappsstadir, Killer-Hrapp’s son, Sumarlidi, returned to the property and tried to revive the farm. Not long after the young man went home, however, he was said to have become delirious and suddenly died. The people of Laxardal quickly attributed the death to the malicious spirit of Hrapp and the farmstead once again was abandoned. Sumarlidi’s mother inherited the estate after her son’s death, but she vowed to never return to that cursed land. Her apprehension about the estate, however, was not shared by her brother, the brave Thorstein Surt. Disregarding the ghost stories, Thorstein Surt packed his belongings onto a ship and set sail with eleven companions for Hrappsstadir, where he intended to bring the farm back to prominence. Unfortunately, Thorstein Surt’s dream was not realized—his ship sank in the final stretch of the trip and ten out of the eleven passengers onboard drowned, including Thorstein Surt. Next to inherit the cursed property was Thorstein’s daughter Gudrid, and her husband, Thorkel Scarf. The couple, however, pointedly left Hrappsstadir abandoned.

To the northeast of Hrappsstadir lived Olaf Peacock, so named because of his prideful demeanor and his ever-gilded fashion sense that applied to clothing and weaponry, alike. Olaf wanted to expand into Hrappsstadir and build a new farmstead on the deserted land. As a result of the hauntings and suspicious deaths connected to the region, Thorkel Skarf gladly sold the land for a measly three marks of silver. After acquiring the land, Olaf Peacock constructed the farm of Hjardarholt in a location just a short distance from Hrapp’s original farmstead.

Hjardarholt thrived, but farmhands began to report unnerving supernatural events. The epicenter of the hauntings seemed to be the cowshed for non-milking cattle, a structure located in a forested section of Olaf’s new property. The ghostly presence there was so bad that the cowherd threatened to leave if he was not transferred to another task. Instead of reassigning the man, Olaf Peacock accompanied the cowherd to the shed to help manage the cattle. While the two were working, the ghost of Killer-Hrapp appeared in the cowshed. In a comedic scene from the saga, the cowherd saw the ghost first and “suddenly came running back into Olaf’s arms” in freight (Laxdæla saga, chapter 24).  After wrenching himself free of the cowherd, Olaf Peacock heroically rushed at the ghost and stabbed at the spirit with a spear (gold-inlaid, of course). The spear did not harm the ghost, but the spectral Killer-Hrapp had enough supernatural power to snap off the weapon’s gilded spearhead before spookily sinking into the ground, taking the spear with him.

Olaf Peacock interpreted Killer-Hrapp’s disappearance into the earth as evidence that the ghost’s body was located underground in that very spot. The next morning, Olaf and his farmhands grabbed their spades and excavated the earth around the cowshed. They eventually discovered Killer-Hrapp’s restless body, which was reportedly still clinging to Olaf’s lost spearhead with the inlaid gold. After the body was exhumed for a second time, the remains were burned and then the ashes were dumped into the sea. With this, Killer-Hrapp’s reign of terror finally ended.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Scene of Gudrun and the ghost by Andreas Bloch (1860–1917), based on a passage from the Laxdæla saga, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Saga of the People of Laxardal and Bolli Bollason’s Tale, by an anonymous 13th-century Icelander and translated by Keneva Kunz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008.

A Small Dog Reportedly Led To The Death Of Jarl Rognvald Brusason Of Orkney

In the year 1030, Rognvald Brusason, son of Jarl Brusi of Orkney, fought on the side of King Olaf II of Norway (Saint Olaf) at the Battle of Stiklestad. Rognvald had first joined Olaf’s retinue as a political hostage, meant to keep his father in line, but he grew to become a well-respected and trusted member of the king’s court. Unfortunately, Saint Olaf was killed during the battle, but Rognvald was credited with saving the slain king’s half-brother, a fifteen-year-old future king who would come to be known as Harald the Ruthless. Rognvald, Harald and other supporters of the late Saint Olaf fled to the lands of the Kievan Rus. Harald went on to join the Varangian Guard in service to the emperors of Constantinople, while Rognvald became a respected mercenary working under the kings of Kiev. Magnus, a son of Saint Olaf, was also present with the Rus. When Magnus “the Good” was invited back to Norway to become king in 1035, Rognvald Brusason followed him back to the kingdom and became a close acquaintance of the king.

While staying in Kiev or upon his return to Norway, Rognvald discovered that his father, Brusi, had died and that Rognvald’s uncle, Jarl Thorfinn, had claimed Brusi’s land for himself. According to the Orkneyinga Saga, the Jarls of Orkney not only ruled their title’s namesake, but also administered Shetland and Caithness. Jarl Thorfinn was also reportedly expanding his influence into the Hebrides at that time. Once King Magnus was firmly back in control of Norway, Rognvald brought up the topic of Orkney and asked the king to help him claim his inheritance from Jarl Thorfinn. King Magnus agreed to help, naming Rognvald as a jarl of Orkney, as well giving him a small fleet of three ships.

Inheritance and division of rule had long been a tense issue in the jarldom of Orkney. During the reign of Saint Olaf, the jarldom had been divided into thirds. According to the Orkneyinga Saga, Jarl Brusi (Rognvald’s father) ruled one-third of the jarldom, Jarl Thorfinn ruled another third, and the last third belonged to the Norwegian crown. The kings of Norway, however, gave their own third to the jarl of their choice, making that chosen jarl of Orkney dominant in the region. Saint Olaf reportedly chose Jarl Brusi as his governor of the royal third in Orkney, yet Jarl Thorfinn was given control of the royal third when King Canute sent Saint Olaf into exile in 1028. In keeping with the tradition of Norwegian kings giving control of their third of Orkney to their favorite jarl, King Magnus sent Rognvald not only with the authority to claim his father’s land, but appointed him as administrator of the royal third, as well.