Dialogues with the Viking Age: Narration and Representation in the Sagas of the Icelanders

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Vesteinn Olason

Dialogues with the Viking Age Narration and Representation in the Sagas of the Icelanders

Translated by Andrew Wawn

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HEIMSKRINGLA Mal og Menning Academic Division

Rey~avik 1998

Contents

Preface

9

I. Introduction Icelandic

15

Sagas-Sagas

of

Icelanders-islendingasogur

17

What is a Saga? 17 - The islendingasogur 17 - Preservation and Dating 18 - Sagas and Oral Tradition 19 - The Sagas as Myth 21 Social and Historical

Context

23

The Discovery and Settlement of Iceland 23 - The Formation of a New Society 24 - Social Structure 27 - The Economy 30 - Communication with the Outside World 31 - Christianisation 32 - Concentration of Power-The End of the Commonwealth 34Towards a Feudal System 35 The Cultural

and Literary

Background

38

The Oral Culture of Viking-Age Scandinavia and Iceland 38 Oral Tradition in Iceland before the Advent of Writing 41 - The Age of Writing 44 - Religious and "learned" Literature 46 - The Beginnings of Historiography 48 - Historiography in the Early Thirteenth Century 50 - Snorri S~urluson 53 - New Genres and Subjects 60 - The Writing of the Islendingasogur 61

II. Narratives and Narrative Art Stories and Plots

63 65

Feuds and Conflict~ 65 - Types of Saga Plots 67 - Beyond the Plot 79 - Topography 82 Narrative

Structure

84

Beginnings and Endings 84 - The Story within the Saga-Narrative Element~ and Links 89 - Patterns of Action 93 Telling

the Tale

95

Time in the Saga 95 - Rhythm 99 - Narrator and Narrative 101 Point of View and Focalisation 106 Verbal Artistry Vocabulary and Style 111 - Words and Deeds 115

111

120

The Power of the Word Words and Reputation 120 - Prose and Verse in the islendingasogur 124

130

Retrospect

III. Saga Worlds

133 135

Actors and Actions Dramatis pPTson{p135 - Heroes-Perfect and Imperfect 138Female Roles 147 - Heroism Reversed-Injustice and Evil 156Caricature 161 Ideology

166

and Morality

Values and Norms 166 - Honour and Vengeance-Gisli Sursson 167 - Conflicting Fortunes-Fate and Action in Laxd{pla saga 173

180

After the Commonwealth Chieftains and Power 180 - Power Struggles as Comedy 184 Arrogance and Misfortune-Grettir 186 The Meeting

191

of Two Worlds

Ancient and Modern Attitudes 191 - The Status of Farmer-Chieftains-Egill Skalla-Grfmsson 192 - Great Oaks Must Fall-0aL~ saga 197

206

Retrospect

IV. The Sagas in the World The Sagas in Literary Meaning

209 211

History

221

and Interpretation

The islendingasoguras

a Literary

The Sagas and Posterity

Genre

228 238

Notes

249

Bibliography

271

Index

295

Preface Kolskegg moved quickly and stepped towards him and struck him on the thigh with his short-sword and cut off his leg, and then he said, "Did that hit you or not?" "This is what I get," said Kol, "for not shielding myself," - and he stood for a while on his other leg and looked at the stump. Kolskegg said, ''You don't need to look: it's just as you think, the leg is gone." Then Kol fell down dead (ch. 63; iii 75).

There can be few instances anywhere in world literature of dialogue as powerful and incisive as this exchange about the loss of a leg in Njdls saga. The present book argues that the islendingasogur (or Family Sagas as they are often called) as a whole are also dialogues about loss. They are about loss not of life or limb, though there is no shortage of such moments, but rather the loss of an entire world, albeit over a rather longer time than it took Kolr EgiIsson to lose his leg. In this book I attempt to analyse that world and its loss. As for the islendingasogur being dialogues, this book centres on two propositions. Firstly, it argues that these sagas are dialogues between the authors and their past, conversations between the Middle Ages and the Age of the Vikings. Secondly, we as readers of the sagas conduct our own dialogue with the past. Written in the years on either side of 1300, the islendingasogur represent a conjunction of two ages-in both senses of the Old Icelandic word old, which meant "people", and also "the age in which people lived". It is of course a coincidence that the present study has also been written at the end of a century, and will be read, perhaps, for some years into the next century. Nevertheless the book attempts to conduct its own dialogue with people from two earlier ages-medieval and Viking. The time may be right for this. The twentieth century has seen social upheavals which have impacted profoundly on our world view and culture. In this respect the late twentieth century has more in common with the

9

historical turning points of the Saga Age at the end of the first millennium and of the saga writing age around 1300 A.D. than it does with most other moments in Icelandic history. In their exploration of what a turbulent past and present meant to saga-age Icelanders these stories still have much to say to us as modern readers. Though a brief preface such as this offers no opportunity for detailed exposition of the present author's critical stance, it may be appropriate to identify some of my main attitudes and even prejudices. I believe strongly that literary criticism ought to be historically based. The text is not an autonomous entity; it grows out of other texts and within an historical framework, which any interpretation must take into account. However, an interpreter cannot so totally identify with the past that his reading represents an uninterrupted monologue spoken by the text-in this instance a monologue in which we are addressed from the distant past without an intermediary. As an interpreter I am part of the interpretation and must conduct the dialogue with the text in my own terms, asking the questions that seem most interesting and appropriate. At the same time, I must surely accord the story or text a measure of respect, listening carefully to its answers and trying as far as possible to understand them in their own terms. Bullying interviewers soon become tedious if not downright ridiculous. The search for a hidden meaning, the story behind the story, is sometimes the main priority of those who interpret literature, both ancient and modern. As is the case with allegory, this is often a fruitful and even necessary approach, but it can also lead to difficulties. I do not believe that the islendingasogur should be read as allegories. This does not mean, of course, that everything in the sagas is straightforward and unambiguous. The texts invite and require interpretation, like most literature worth talking about, but my view is that the search for meaning has a visible path marked out for it in the text, and my role as interpreter is to clarify and deepen the meaning to be found there, and also to identify ambiguities; it seems a worthless exercise to try to turn the apparent meaning of the sagas on its head. The narrative material of the islendingasogur is so arresting and distinctive in itself that efforts to transform the sagas into something else, for example parables or 10

moral tales, almost always end up obfuscating what matters most and diminishing the artistic and emotional impact of the works. The evaluation of old and unfamiliar works isjust as difficult as their interpretation. From the time over two centuries ago when romantic attitudes began to exercise an influence, the islendingasogur have been more highly valued than other forms of Icelandic literature, and as a result other kinds of sagas have had to live in their shadow. Happily in recent years this state of affairs has changed and scholars have learnt to evaluate each narrative genre in its own terms. In correcting an earlier bias, however, there has been a tendency to view all works as of equal worth. It would be a pity if newly awakened interest in previously neglected works were to lead to the devaluation of acknowledged masterpieces. It is no accident that the islendingasogur have generally been the most highly esteemed of old Icelandic narratives, and that a few of these have been regarded as classics. Praise for such works does not imply criticism of other sagas. Many modern critics argue that "the work" and "the author" are ideologically constructed concepts of relatively recent origin, and that as such they have no general validity. It may be argued that the islendingasogurare texts which conform perfectly to such notionsthey are not ascribed to any single author; they are written in a rather impersonal style; and the same characters, together with their surroundings and social customs, are common to many sagas. There is no way of determining what proportion of each saga derives from narratives which have passed from one teller to another, or which elements can be traced back to other books, or what features an author, or even a scribe, could have invented. In addition, the texts we read today are edited from manuscripts which differ in varying degrees from some lost archetype. Despite these problems, the present study discusses each saga as a "work", and refers unblushingly to "authors" in full awareness that these concepts can have a somewhat different meaning when applied to sagas rather than to modern novels. This present study is intended to be primarily a work of literary criticism rather than of literary history, though as far as possible I have tried to make full use of relevant available scholarship. The islendingasogurrepresent living literature and invite our scrutiny as

11

such, for all that they and the culture which informs them seem to us in many waysremote and strange. In the first chapter, therefore, I have tried to assemble the kinds of contextualising knowledge which we need in order to ensure that our conversations with the sagas are free from misunderstandings. This chapter is intended particularly for those who have no previous knowledge of the Icelandic sagas or of the period in which they were written. Experienced scholars need not pay much attention to its contents, though obviously there is a connection between the overview of general and literary history offered there, and my understanding of the literary genre itself. The second chapter discusses the sagas as narrative art-it examines the kind of stories they tell and how such tales are told. In the third chapter I try to develop an understanding of the world which the sagas depict-the individuals who inhabit it, the society they create, the rules by which people live. At the same time I attempt to link that world to the one in which the saga writers live and write. How does it understand itself? How do saga and society connect? To some extent these two central chapters may be seen as discussing on the one hand the form and on the other hand the content of the sagas-their narrative artistry and philosophy of life-yet no clear dividing line can be drawn between these two elements. The final chapter draws the threads together, reflects on the development of the genre and its special importance for today. I have tried to write this book in such a way that it can serve to introduce the world of the sagas to a reader who has little previous acquaintance with these works; I hope, however, that there will also be something of interest for those who know the sagas well. I have tried to achieve this by frequent use of examples; general conclusions are based on analysis of particular sagas or sections from sagas. I hope that my approach will serve to lead readers into the sagas step by step; first introducing them to the kinds of narrative awaiting them and then gradually helping them to develop a deeper understanding both of individual works and of the genre as a whole. My approach is also based on the premise that form and content ought not to be separated. The material of the sagas had form before it was written down, and their methods of narration cannot be separated from the attitudes to life and existence which the works exhibit.

12

Myoriginal intention was to write a shorter book with relatively few references to other scholarly works. As the work developed, however, it became clear to me that many readers might find it helpful to have their attention drawn to the views of other scholars on the same topics and texts, as expressed in works directly cited and discussed here and also in other writings. My references to such studies are, of course, far from exhaustive. Most of them are confined to the notes and ought therefore not to distract those readers with little interest in such scholarship. Myfamiliarity with and love of the islendingasogur stretches back over fifty years, but this present book has emerged over just two years. The foundations were laid during my 1995-6 sabbatical leave. For part of this period I was able to make use of the fine facilities at the University of Edinburgh. Throughout the book's preparation I have been the grateful recipient of help from many sources. Grants from the Ranns6knasj6aur Hask61a islands and the Aastoaarmannasj6aur have facilitated its progress. Armann ]akobsson, Bjarni Guanason, Davia Erlingsson and Gisli Sigurasson have read over the work, in whole or in part, at various stages and offered me valuable advice. Discussion of the English text with Andrew Wawn, the translator, and with Robert Cook has helped me greatly in clarifying the expression of my ideas. The Introduction (Chapter One) was written specially for inclusion in the English version and is much fuller than the equivalent section in the Icelandic version. I am grateful to the staff at Mal og menning for their help and co-operation, particularly Pall Valsson and 010£ Eldjarn. My chief scholarly assistant has been l>6raur Ingi Guaj6nsson who has read through the entire work in both manuscript and proof. He has also helped me in locating source materials, and has played a major role in the preperation of the notes and bibliography. I am also grateful to Leifur Eiriksson hf. for permission to quote from their newly published complete set of islendingasogur translations. lowe direct and indirect debts of gratitude to many more people than are mentioned here. Reykjavik, December 1997 Visteinn Olason

13

Translator's Note Names of people, places and texts are given in normalised Old Icelandic nominative case forms: accordingly I use Njall, Gunnarr, Guarun, and Oainn, rather than Njal, Gunnar, Gudrun and Odin. Readers unfamiliar with the Icelandic alphabet will soon become accustomed to its distinctive forms: as a general rule of thumb, () and p may be taken as respectively equivalent to the voiced and unvoiced Modern English th; whilst Q is equivalent to the medial vowel in "hall". Where pronominal reference is made to antecedent nouns such as "the author", "the poet" or "the reader", the translation employs the masculine form. All the islendingasogurpassages cited in this book are taken from ViOar Hreinsson et aI., eds., The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, 5 vols (Reykjavik: Leifur Eirfksson Publishing, 1997). The modernised forms of names and places are retained in all quotations.

A.w.

Icelandic Sagas-Sagas of Icelanders-Islendingasogur 'What is a Saga? Medieval Icelandic manuscripts preserve a substantial number of prose narratives, some of which are quite lengthy, and all of which are called sagas. Within this broad category there are important subdivisions-amongst them the kings' sagas, the bishops' sagas, sagas about legendary heroes of northern antiquity, sagas about knights, sagas about saints, as well as the so-called Sagas oflcelanders or islendingasogur. All these works can be classified as Icelandic sagas. The Icelandic word saga, pI. sogur, is a derivative of the verb segja, "to speak", "to say", and means simply "a tale" or "a story", long or short, old or new, true or fictitious. It is sometimes also used to describe a sequence of events out of which a story could be made. English and several other languages have borrowed the word and tend to use it in the more technical sense of, as one dictionary defines it, "a medieval story about Icelandic or Norwegian heroes", or "a long eventful narrative about more than one generation of a family". In this book it will be used in the first of these more technical English meanings and frequently as a shorter form of the narrower term islendingasogur.l

The Islendingasogur Sagas about Icelanders from a certain period and written by anonymous authors are known as islendingasogur, "Sagas of Icelanders", or, as they are frequently referred to in English, "Family Sagas", albeit that this latter term is really only appropriate for a few of them. As used in modern scholarship, even the term islendingasogur fails to cover all the extant tales about Icelanders which are

17

INTRODUCTION

preserved in medieval manuscripts. It is only used about tales of considerable length which centre around the lives of people from a relatively small group of Icelandic families. The important part of the action in such tales takes place during the first century of the Icelandic commonwealth, from c. 930 to c. 1030 A.D., though introductory sections may deal with events in Norway and Iceland during the reign of King Haraldr Finehair, that is, during the main period of the settlement of Iceland, c. 870-930. While the saga heroes may travel to foreign lands, most frequently Scandinavia or the British Isles, the main action usually takes place in Iceland and is rooted in the ways in which men feuded vigorously and eventually resolved their conflicts through the operation of a judicial system whose courts were unsupported by any common executive power.2 There are some forty of these sagas which can be distinguished from other categories of narrative works dealing with Icelandic matter, such as much shorter tales, usually called pcettir, with Icelandic protagonists, and characterised by a more concentrated plot; sagas which tell of clerics and the church; and, lastly, sagas about the conflicts among Icelandic chieftains of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, most of which are preserved in the compilation known as Sturlunga saga. The definition of islendingasogur given in the previous paragraph hardly justifies referring to these works as a separate genre, but taken together they are characterised by a group offeatures which playa markedly less important role in other Icelandic sagas and tales. There are, therefore, good reasons for the long-standing tradition of dealing with this group of sagas as a single entity, regarding them as a separate family within the tribe. These reasons will become apparent in the pages which follow.3

Preservation and Dating Apart from a handful of fragments which have been dated to the second half of the thirteenth century, the islendingasogur are preserved either in vellum manuscripts from the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, or in paper manuscripts of more recent

ICELANDIC

SAGAS-SAGAS

OF ICELANDERS

provenance. All these manuscripts are copies, and sometimes represent the text at several removes from an early archetype; no saga texts survive which can be said to be an author's original copy. There are, however, good reasons for believing that a majority of the sagas, perhaps almost two thirds of the texts in the corpus, and most of the major works, were written during the thirteenth century-both before and, perhaps more often, after the Icelanders swore allegiance to King Hakon of Norway in 1262. The remaining texts were written in the fourteenth century; some, exceptionally, may even derive from the fifteenth century.

Sagas and Oral Tradition Saga scholarship has long been much concerned with the relationship of the islendingasogurto oral tradition. The fundamental question is: do the sagas as we now have them represent more or less word-for-word transcriptions of pre-existing oral tales or are they independent literary compositions? The question has been debated for a couple of centuries; no consensus has emerged, but it remains a central issue. Any study of the sagas is bound to be much influenced by the implicit or explicit answers given and positions taken. For this reason it is worth setting out the working hypothesis adopted in the present study. The advantages of this hypothesis should become clearer in the course of the book, and readers wishing to follow the debate in greater detail may refer to some of the surveys cited in the notes.4 In thirteenth-century Iceland a lively oral tradition must still have existed about people and events in the tenth and early eleventh centuries. Much of the narrative material of the islendingasogur-names of individuals and their relationships, details of events and their location, and the like-is drawn from such oral tradition, as are some of the narrative conventions of the sagas. Although to an extent historical in origin, these narratives, developing as they did over several centuries, were inevitably influenced by myth and folktale, and the craft of the gifted story-teller will have left its mark whether through additions to or stylisation of the narrative material. There is no evidence for the existence of fixed 19

INTRODUCTION

oral sagas of a length and complexity comparable to most of the written sagas. It seems likely that the tradition was fluid, with an oral "saga" composed in the course of narration by a story-teller or saga-man who would articulate traditional elements in traditional ways, with due attention paid to the nature of the occasion and the audience. The form established for the written saga is a literary phenomenon derived from narrative forms known to the Icelanders from other genres and profoundly affected by the fundamental nature of written communication, in which there are no immediate ties between storyteller and audience. It is only natural to assume that oral tradition and literary activity flourished side by side for a long time, mutually influencing each other, but it was inevitable that the book and the idea of the "text" would triumph in the long run. The sagas which have come down to us are essentially literary products-that is, an author made the decision where to begin, where to end and what to include, and the same author formed the sentences. That authorship cannot be ignored, for all that later scribes may have changed the work considerably. Nevertheless, whilst recognising their fundamentally literary nature, we should note a major difference between the "literariness" of sagas and that of the genre with which they are almost instinctively compared by modern readers, the novel. The saga writer was not inventing a story, but composing (the Icelandic phrase was selja saman, "to put together", a direct translation of the Latin componere) and telling a story over which he had no ultimate authority. When adding something from his own imagination, be it speech and conversation, descriptions of people and places, or supplementary narrative events, he probably felt that he was not inventing something new but rather "finding" or adding something which had been a latent part of his storyhow it all might have happened, as it were; these additions were elements which could give better shape and more substance to his narrative, and even, along with the manner of presentation, highlight particular themes.s Clearly an individual writer could be more skilled and resourceful than a colleague or rival in finding and presenting the necessary material for the saga he was writing, but that still did not make the finished narrative his own. No saga writer would claim the saga as his own literary creation, either

20

ICELANDIC

SAGAS-SAGAS

OF ICELANDERS

directly,by writing his name in the manuscript, or-more important-indirectly, by trying to impose on it the stamp of his own individuality.The islendingasogur are traditional in a double sense: firstly,because they are based on traditional matter and traditional waysof telling a story; and secondly, because they adhered to a literary tradition which, in principle, assigned no role to the individual talent.6 That the individuality of a writer or the historical forces forming his narrative will always be to some extent detectable goes without saying. The above description of the relationship between sagas and oral tradition, and of the nature of saga literariness, draws on evidence from the bulk of those sagas which can be assumed to have been written no later than around 1300. The uncertainties of dating make it a hazardous venture to speculate about any kind of development during the thirteenth century. In the sagas from around 1300 and on into the fourteenth century, however, elements of free invention are in all likelihood more extensively and more consciously deployed by saga writers; indeed, in exceptional cases, an embryonic "novelistic sensibility" seems to find expression in irony and parody. However, on the surface, these sagas continue to operate within the literary conventions formed in the thirteenth century.

The Sagas as Myth The islendingasogur, as has already been noted, deal mainly with events of the tenth and early eleventh centuries. The settlement of Iceland represents an important early historical reference point in many of them, whilst the coming of Christianity looms large at the end of the "saga period", marking the dawn of a new age. It seems therefore that the pagan era of a new society and its termination through the transition into Christianity may have acquired some sort of mythical significance in the minds of Icelanders as, during the thirteenth century, they witnessed the collapse of the social system established during the settlement period. During those turbulent decades of the thirteenth century educated people with secular interests started to compose islendingasogur, a new kind of

21

INTRODUCTION

saga about their ancestors, inspired by the available literary models but drawing on traditional narrative matter. In these works they give expression to an idealised view of the past and, more indirectly, to their developing anxieties in the face of an uncertain future. The sagas depict, often in considerable detail, the inner workings of the old society, almost as if displaying the workings of a clock with its backplate removed. The resulting picture cannot be ascribed to any free play of imagination since the basic narrative features of such works are those shared not only by all the islendingasogur, but also by other sources that have a stronger claim to historicity. It is therefore appropriate to examine the historical background before we begin our reading of the sagas.

22

Social and Historical Context

The Discovery and Settlement of Iceland In his islendingab6k

[Book of the Icelanders), composed around 1125 and the oldest surviving text in the Icelandic language, Ari

porgilsson the Learned wrote: Iceland was first settled from Norway in the days of Haraldr Finehair at the time ... when Ivarr, son of Ragnarr Hairy-Breeches, had Saint Edmund, King of the English, killed. This was eight hundred and seventy years after the birth of Christ (ch. 1).

Scandinavian seafarers discovered Iceland some time after the middle of the ninth century, and immigrant Norwegian settlers began to arrive after c. 870.7 Before that time Irish monks or hermits had certainly visited the land but, according to the oldest sources, they quickly abandoned the otherwise unpopulated island when the Norsemen arrived. The number of people who came to Iceland to settle has been estimated at between 10,00020,000, and cautious estimates of the size of the population from c. 1100 onwards vary from around 40,000-60,000. These people lived on coastal and valley farms on an island which is somewhat larger than Ireland and whose northernmost point lies within the Arctic circle. Life for these early settlers was no doubt made easier by the richness of previously unexploited vegetation and fishing grounds. The climate of Iceland was-and is-relatively mild because of the effects of the Gulf stream, but it remained unstable, and periodic volcanic eruptions and accumulations of drift ice from the Arctic ocean could suddenly add catastrophically to the everyday hardships endured by man and beast. Fortunately for the early settlers and their descendants the climate of the first centur-

23

INTRODUCTION

ies was comparatively benign, but it began to deteriorate significantly from the twelfth century onwards. Iceland seems to have been settled mainly by people from the Atlantic coast of Norway, though there were some folk from other parts of that land and even from other Scandinavian countr.ies. There was also some immigration from the Norse settlements in the British Isles, and these settlers were joined by Irish or Gaelic Celts, usually in the role of slaves. The settlement was in no sense an organised venture under a united leadership. If the historians of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries are to be believed, settlers arrived in their ships, a few families in each vessel, and took what land they could find until the country became fully settled around 930.8 The reasons for this major exodus from Norway are not entirely clear. One factor, no doubt, was the same expansionist tendency discernible in viking raids and expeditions to the inhabited parts of Europe; another must have been overpopulation, at a time of major technological progress in shipbuilding and navigation. Icelandic writers of the thirteenth century cherish the explanation that emigration was led by chieftains who would accept neither the limitations on their freedoms nor the taxes imposed by Haraldr Finehair, the first king to rule over the whole of Norway; love of freedom and reluctance to pay taxes are emotions easily understood by modern man, and this myth has enjoyed renewed popularity in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Ari makes no mention of such factors in islendingab6k, however, but he does identifY an agreement between the emigrants and King Haraldr which indicates some sort of understanding between the allegedly warring parties. It is not unlikely that some of the settlers left Norway because of disputes with the king or his representatives; others are likely to have emigrated for different and less colourful reasons.

The Formation of a New Society It is reasonable to assume that the social structure of the country had its roots in the groupings of the original settlers. The leaders

SOCIAL AND HISTORICAL CONTEXT

of these settler groups were people of some wealth and standing. They must have been owners of ships which could be relied upon to stand up to the buffeting of heavy North-east Atlantic gales; they must have had as followers at least the number of men needed to sail one of these ships with its valuable cargo of men and women, sheep and cattle, tools and goods-all the elements of man, beast and machine necessary to start farming in a new environment. The leaders must either have belonged to families of well-to-do land-owners in Norway or have garnered enough wealth through looting and trade as vikings. They took possession of large areas of land, which they divided among their followers or among those who came after them, and in return no doubt expected or even demanded support from these families in their dealings with other chieftains. While land was plentiful, these dealings could probably pass off relatively peacefully, but when the country was almost fully settled, the need arose for firmer regulation of social affairs, and works cl.aiming historical veracity such as islendingab6k, Landndmab6k, the law codes, and the sagas describe the settlement, the growth of regulation, and the nature and function of the social institutions which emerged. The establishment of a general assembly for the whole country, an "althing", in or around the year 930 was an important event for the future of the new community. Ari says in islendingab6k: The Althing was established where it now is on the counsel of Ulflj6tr and all the men in the country; but earlier there was a Thing in Iqalarnes, which porsteinn, son of Ing6lfr the Settler and father of the lawspeaker porkell Moon, held there together with the chieftains who honoured

it (ch. 3).

To the leaders of the new country the establishment of the rule of law was an urgent priority, and the process may well have been facilitated by the close kinship of a number of important settlers in various parts of the country. Naturally in looking for a model legislative framework, their thoughts turned back to the land and region whence most of them had come-the Gulathing in Southwestern Norway. The Landnamab6k story that Ulflj6tr was sent to his uncle, a Gulathing lawman, and that the two of them set down the new law for Iceland, may have the feel of a legend about it, but

25

INTRODUCTION

it contains a core of truth, because the idea of a "thing" or assembly as an institution, as well as basic ideas about the nature and function oflaw, proved to be the same in Iceland as in Norway, and it is quite likely that the first Icelandic law was based on the Gulathing law. The written law codices relating to each area are a later phenomenon, and the laws they contain developed differently in Norway and Iceland.9 The Viking-Age Norwegian and Icelandic concept of law embraced both the legislation enacted and also the area in which such legislation applied. At the time of the settlement of Iceland Norway was divided into several legal areas or "laws", and this continued to be the case long after these areas were united under a single king. It was, without doubt, of great importance for the development of Icelandic society that the whole country was united under one code of law and with one central assembly, the Althing at I>ingvellir.These issues have been examined at some length here because law and legal proceedings are of great importance to the world of the sagas. Icelandic law describes or prescribes a society whose form differs from other societies in medieval or modern Europe. It had a common code of law, a network of courts, which assembled at regional things, and the Althing, where a legal assembly of sorts debated and decided new laws and changes to existing laws. There was, on the other hand, no public executive power; the implementation of fines or other punishments decided in court was left in the hands of the aggrieved party, and there was often nothing which could guarantee the successful implementation of a verdict except the use of force, which by definition could lead to fighting and hence to another court case. In this system, anyone wishing to make a name for himself and expecting to be taken seriously needed to be able to muster a solid following of men willing to support and, if neccesary, fight for him. According to a passage in the commonwealth law there were originally thirty-six constitutionally defined offices called goooro (literally "god-word"), and the holder of such an office was called a gooorosmaor (pI. -menn) or a gooi, "chieftain" (pI. gooar); the goooro was considered to be the personal property of the holder and was handed down from one generation to another through inheritance; it could be divided among more than one person (although 26

SOCIAL AND HISTORICAL CONTEXT

only one individual could exercise its powers at the Thing), and it could be placed in the custody of other people.IO A gooi had some cultic functions, which are described in unreliable sources as being somewhat reminiscent of the functions of a priest. The gooi also consecrated the Thing, and appointed judges at local things and at the Althing; and it was the gooarwho had the right to a seat in the logretta, the legal assembly at the Althing. The gooar elected from their group a sort of president or speaker of the Thing, a logsogumaor or law-speaker, for a three year period. His primary duty was to recite the law publicly at the Althing and to adjudicate when people disagreed about what the law was. Great honour and considerable authority no doubt went with this office, but it did not entail any real power over the other gooar. It is likely that the authority of the gooar in matters which we would regard as secular was understood in pagan times to be religious, arising from their special connections with the gods (Yesteinn Olason 1993d).

Social Structure In the period of the so-called commonwealth, that is, until the Icelanders had sworn allegiance to the king of Norway, Iceland was a society of free farmers. A farmer was obliged by law to declare allegiance to one of the gooar, but not necessarily to the one living nearest to him or in a given area, and the same farmer had the right to renounce his allegiance to anyone gooi and adopt a new one. A farmer of some means was obliged to contribute to the costs associated with his goois journey to the Thing with a party of his men; such a farmer might be the head of a group of kinsmen, tenants and hired labourers living on his land. 1 1 In this system women were dependent on men and had no role in public affairs, although widows had a relatively independent status. Kinship was an important factor in the relations between people, but because the understanding of kinship was egocentric or bilateral-that is, an individual had obligations to both sides of the family-close kinsmen could find themselves with divided loyalties in particular situations.I2 Fundamental to this structure was the fact that no one had

27

INTRODUCTION

authority over a gooi, because in formal terms he was bound by nothing but the law, but in order to function as a leader he had to secure two sorts of alliance: firstly with other chieftains in the event of some major confrontation, especially at the Althing; and, secondly, with the farmers who had pledged allegiance to him. In order to be able to secure the loyalty of this latter group he had to be able to look after their interests and create and sustain respect for his own name. In this system any free male was by law equal to any other and had an independent legal status, but no public institution protected his rights. He had to be prepared to defend his property and rights, and in any ensuing conflict his allegiance to a gooi enabled him to take his case to court. The gooi, who socially and politically was primus inter pares, had to secure his own position by creating alliances and by building up an economic position sufficiently strong to be able to support a small group of fighting men in his home at all times and a larger number in times of conflict. Such alliances were often secured through the cultivation of friendship and mutual giving of gifts, which it was honourable both to give and to receive.13 The result was a society where all dealings between free individuals were totally politicised, and where status, always interpreted in terms of honour, could only be increased by taking risks and only maintained through constant awareness of the importance of internal and external alliances. Honour, as always, had an economic and hereditary side to it. It could help people to get a good start in life, but its maintenance . and increase demanded political skill, courage and charisma, especially in those who wanted to become powerful chieftains.14 The characterisation of gooar and goooro set out above is, of course, mainly drawn from the sagas-islendingasogur,as well as bishops' sagas and other sagas about twelfth and thirteenth century Iceland-where life and politics are stylised and concentrated around memorable conflicts. Yet the structures seem to carry a kind of logic in a society of this sort. In real life it may be that nothing memorable or destabilizing happened over a long period of time in a particular geographical area; nevertheless, an awareness of the same destabilizing forces that appear to be constantly at work in the sagas must have been deeply rooted in the minds of

28

SOCIAL AND HISTORICAL CONTEXT

the population. They would know that these forces could surface at any time and create havoc in their lives. It seems fair to assume that the anxieties created by worldly uncertainties of many sorts lay at the root of the feud traditions which formed the raw material of saga writers. During the lifetime of these writers, moreover, new sources of anxiety arose which will be discussed later in this study. Every society is formed and conditioned by an interplay of natural and historical forces. It would be quite wrong to depict Icelandic society before 1200 in the abstract way outlined thus far without taking account of historical and cultural factors. The Icelanders had their strongest roots in Viking-Age Scandinavia, as can be seen from their language as well as their cultural artifacts and their historical traditions, and ambitious men among their forefathers had viewed martial success in the company of a victorious king as the most prestigious and effective way of winning honour. Agricultural skills were well regarded in this society of farmers, but much greater glory attached itself to the courage and skills of a warrior, and to the achievements of a successful leader. The strongly traditional element in Icelandic culture during the early centuries and its strong ties to Norway and Scandinavia must always be kept in mind. Why, then, did the settlers of Iceland establish a society which had no king, nor any military or administrative centre? The probable answer is that at the time of settlement there was still a strong feeling of independence and pride ingrained amongst the free farmers of Norway. Earls and kings were to them, at best, a necessary evil; they functioned as defensive leaders against outside attack, whether from foreign kings or looters. Having settled in Iceland people of this class felt no such threat of invasion from abroad. The kind of sacral kingship which probably existed in connection with ancient cult sites such as Uppsala or Hleiora (Lejre), and which may have played a part in legitimising the most important dynasties of Scandinavia, the Skjoldungar and Ynglingar, could not arise suddenly in a new country with a thinly spread population and with no members of those great dynasties present to make such claims. The absence of a king did not mean that society had to be without stratification. Many of

29

INTRODUCTION

the Icelandic chieftains traced their genealogies back to a Norwegian hersir, a local chieftain, and it is natural to see the status of a gooi as parallel to that of a hersir.15 The complex ideology of honour which seems to have underpinned people's dealings with each other, and which played such an important role in Icelandic society, will gradually become clearer in the course of our analysis of the sagas. Without doubt its roots lay in the warfare of the Viking Age, but by the time the sagas were written, and probably in the Viking Age too, it was balanced by society's need for a peaceful and productive life.

The Economy There were, of course, aspects of life in medieval Iceland that may seem more important to modern readers than honour-the economic element, for instance; for a starving person food is usually more important than honour. Anyone wishing to develop a fuller understanding of the economic structure of medieval Iceland should consult the works of historians, but in simple outline it can be said that the economy of Iceland was a primitive one, generating little surplus for exploitation by the class of chieftains. The economy was mostly based on individual farms. It has been pointed out that a strong chieftain could sometimes lay his hands on individuals' property during a feud or could acquire property confiscated in the wake of a lawsuit (Byock 1988, 77-102), but such income would in many cases have been too insecure and unpredictable to make any significant long-term difference Gan Vidar Sigurosson 1993, 120-22). It is possible that chieftains managed to alleviate part of the burden of maintaining a large household by systematically demanding hospitality from the farmers who owed them allegiance, regularly undertaking a round of visits accompanied by a group of men. Such veislur are frequently referred to in the kings' sagas.16 Some remuneration in the form of gifts would probably have been called for, and given the small size and slender surplus of most farms there must have been difficulties in exploiting the available hospitality systematically. Above all, a leader of men in such a society had to be a shrewd politician with sufficient 30

SOCIAL AND HISTORICAL CONTEXT

charisma to make it easy for him to muster a following. Such men generally find waysof increasing their wealth and property, but the fundamental economic position of chieftains was almost as insecure as that of farmers, and must to a great degree have depended on the size and quality of their own land. Historians have shown that considerable income was diverted to farmers owning churches and assume that such income was the basis of the wealth and power of families like the Oddaverjar and the Haukd,dir.17 In the thirteenth century chieftains in need of food for large gatherings of men are often said to have sent armed men around demanding contributions from the farmers. These cases are referred to as either taxation or robbery, and people are unlikely to have noticed the difference, although in some cases the chieftains may have offered some reparation at a later date. Such dealings have no doubt always been unpopular and cannot be regarded as contributing to the accumulation of wealth because the gains were spent at once. In the long run such methods were bound to weaken the position of a chieftain unless the need for them was accepted by the exploited party.

Communication with the Outside World In spite of its distance from other countries, Iceland was in constant communication with the external world and never became as culturally isolated as might have been expected. The settlers of Iceland brought their material culture with them, one which required particular commodities which could not be produced from within the country's natural resources, and which had therefore to be acquired by trade. In the beginning the settlers must have used their own ships, but these did not last for ever, and trade soon found its way into the hands of foreign merchants, mostly Norwegian. The importance of trade is widely apparent in the sagas, where merchants often play small but fateful roles during their brief visits to Iceland (MagenilY1993, 185-88). Further evidence of the importance of communication with the outside world can be found in the journeys abroad made by the Icelanders themselves. Such expeditions were often undertaken 31

INTRODUCTION

,

for purposes of trade, but, as presented in the sagas, they also contributed to the education of and served as an initiation rite for a young male looking for a place in society.

Christianisation Iceland was settled before Christianity came to Norway, but the settlers who arrived from the British Isles or had been on viking expeditions to the south and east of Europe knew of the new faith, and some of them indeed were professing Christians. Historians believe that these elements of immigrant Christianity soon disappeared-either because of suppression or the lack of clergy and organisation-although it is unlikely that Christian families ever became fervent worshippers of heathen gods in the period before the arrival of the Christian missionaries. The connection of secular and religious power embedded in the goooro was bound to be stronger than a faith without clergy or organisation. Christianity was, however, steadily moving towards Iceland, and after a short period of missionary activity the Icelanders, under pressure from King Olafr Tryggvason of Norway, made a political decision to accept Christianity at the Althing in the year 999 or 1000 A.D. The gooar, however, retained their secular power and social position, and, in the eyes of many people, little may have seemed to change. Ari's description of the terms of agreement shows that the resistance against Christianity did not carry much weight: ... both parties confirmed that they should have one law ... it was then stated in the law that all people should be Christian and those in this country who had not already been baptised should accept baptism; but ancient laws about infanticide and about the eating of horse-meat should remain valid. People could sacrifice to the old gods secretly, if they wished, but would be sentenced to lesser outlawry if this were proved by witnesses. However, a few years later this and other heathen practices were abolished (islendingab6k; ch. 7).

This description of the conversion to Christianity, like subsequent accounts, was written by a cleric and supervised by church leaders, and it is very likely that it exaggerates the painlessness and swift

32

SOCIAL AND HISTORICAL CONTEXT

success of the Conversion by artfully condensing it into a single dramatic episode at pingvellir. It is nevertheless true that there are no reports of serious religious conflicts or a resurgence of paganism in the eleventh century, such as occurred in Norway and Sweden. IS Priests or missionary bishops of various nationalities were active in the eleventh century, and chieftains were encouraged to build churches on their farms. The See of Skilholt was established when the first Icelandic bishop, isleifr Gizurarson, was consecrated in 1056, and half a century later, in 1106, a separate bishopric was established in the Northern quarter with its See in H6lar. In 1096 the payment of tithes to the church was agreed to by the laity. In the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries there were important improvements in clerical education, and by the turn of the century the clergy seems to have consisted exclusively of Icelanders. From 1100 onwards the literate culture introduced by the church began to bear fruit in terms of Icelandic literary activity; and it was soon to gain a firm foothold, as reflected in historical and religious writings from the twelfth century. If the Icelandic chieftains believed that the church would not interfere in secular affairs they were mistaken, as anyone familiar with the pattern of medieval European history would expect. The church had a number of shrewd native leaders, however, who judged it prudent to proceed cautiously, and some of the leading secular families, from which many of the bishops and other powerful clerics came, formed mutually beneficial ties with the church. A reason for the early lay acceptance of tithe payments is no doubt that a substantial portion of the resources in question accrued to the chieftains via the privately owned parish churches. The weakness of centralised ecclesiastical authority was not unique to Iceland in the eleventh century, nor was the strong influence of secular chieftains, but while the church in neighbouring countries rapidly strengthened its independence from secular power, and at the same time felt the force of stronger influence from Rome, the old system of private and semi-private churches, and close ties between the church and secular chieftains survived in Iceland. Moreover, in spite of repeated attempts at modernisation after the establishment of the archbishopric of Nidaros in the 1150's, things remained much the same up to the last decades of the thirteenth 33

INTRODUCTION

century and, to some extent, during the first half of the following century.

Concentration of Power-The End of the Commonwealth Many historians believe that the wealth accumulated through privately owned churches was one of the main reasons for a concentration of power that began no later than the twelfth century and continued into the thirteenth. Whatever the cause, powerful families at this time began to gather into their hands all the chieftainships (and the power that went with them) in wide geographical areas, which came to be called riki (a term literally meaning "rule" or "reign" but denoting here "spheres of influence" or "dominions"). This overturned the balance of power that had characterised the old social system, and gradually led to an increase in the number of conflicts and, eventually, to what became almost a civil war between the chieftains around the middle of the thirteenth century. The old system had been extremely unstable, of course, and there is more reason to be surprised by the length of its survival than by its eventual collapse. While these disturbances were happening in Iceland the intermittent civil war in Norway, which had lasted since the 1130's, had come to an end, and King Hakon, later nicknamed the Old, had gained full control in Norway and wanted next to expand his rule to the Norse settlements in the west. The Icelandic chieftains had always been eager to cultivate the friendship of the Norwegian king, and gain honour by so doing; and now a period of internal civil instability signalled the need for external support. Many of the chieftains became the king's liegemen, and since he had absolute power over trade by forbidding or allowing merchants to sail from Norway to Iceland, the king was in a strong position to force the Icelanders to do as he wished. Moreover, the ordinary farmers had an obvious interest in stopping the chieftains' rivalry and fighting, for it was they who had to bear the human and material cost. It is no surprise that the eventual outcome saw the Icelanders accepting a treaty with the king in 1262-4, whereby they swore allegiance and promised to pay him taxes in return for his help in 34

SOCIAL AND HISTORICAL CONTEXT

stabilising trade and securing peace in the country. More surprising perhaps is the strong opposition to this agreement which came from individual chieftains and farmers alike. It shows that the ancient ideology of the free farmers of the early Viking Age still exercised a strong grip on the minds of the Icelanders.

Towards a Feudal System It is not uncommon to have historical introductions to the medieval literature of Iceland stop at the point where the commonwealth ends. This is hardly logical, however, since literary activity in Iceland flourished during the first century of Norwegian rule, and the immediate historical background for many of the islendingasogur is to be found not in the period of the commonwealth itself, but among the memories and ideas which it bequeathed to the new society that developed during the last three decades of the thirteenth century. By the middle of the thirteenth century the most influential chieftains in Iceland were already members of the Norwegian court (hir/f) , and thus had formed a personal bond with the king. The independent status of the farmers can be seen in the fact that the king also had to win acceptance among the Icelanders before he could regard them as his subjects. Having achieved this, the Norwegian king lost no time in consolidating his power and imposing on the Icelanders a new ideology, embodied in new law codes, to which the Icelanders gave their reluctant consent after certain modifications were made. The new law was largely but not totally in line with Norwegian law, but it expressed new social and political concepts which led to fundamental changes in Icelandic society. Executive power now resided with the king; most criminal cases ceased to be private affairs and became the responsibility of the king and his representatives; and blood revenge was soon abolished by law. The ancient offices of gooi and [ogsogumalJr were abolished, and their authority was formally transferred to the king. Traditionally the gooar had represented the farmers and theoretically derived their power from this group; but the king derived his

35

INTRODUCTION

power from God. All public power now rested in the hands of king's representatives: the hirostj6ri (formally the leader of the Icelandic section of the hiro, the king's men in Iceland) was the highest official of the whole country, the sjslumenn represented the king in large geographical areas, which gradually became clearly defined, and there were local officials with a more limited mandate who answered to the sjslumenn. Two logmenn (law-men) replaced the lOgsogumaaras presidents of the court at the Althing, and they could also act asjudges in the period between the things. All these officials had their own farms and derived their income partly from the land but also from a share of the taxes and related sources. The Althing still convened once a year, and here the king's directives were announced, and sometimes objected to and negotiated. As before, important cases were heard in court at the Althing. Those attending the Thing were now appointed by the sjslumenn. In the new society all power was centred on the king and was devolved through a simple hierarchical structure, where those of higher rank could always withdraw the mandate from a lower official. The richest farmers in Iceland, usually the king's representatives, were certainly not feudal lords, but nevertheless the overall social and political structure in Iceland had moved a significant step in the direction of common European practice. Iceland could no longer be regarded as an anomaly. The new system of government soon led to more peaceful conditions in the country, from which the economy must have benefited. The development of an export trade in dried fish became a vital factor in the economy from around 1300, greatly increasing the value of land in the vicinity of the rich fishing grounds. This trade was one of the foundations of the prosperity of wealthy families who derived their wealth partly from the rewards of public office, and partly from their own land. A measure of gentrification took place in the country, and in co-operation with monasteries, the episcopal sees and the clergy, wealthy members of the laity must have initiated and financed the production of books in the fourteenth century, which secured the preservation of the sagas for posterity. We have no explicit records outlining exactly how the Iceland36

SOCIAL AND HISTORICAL

CONTEXT

ers viewed or understood the changes in their society around 1300, or how such changes effected their self-image and world view.In studying the world of the islendingasog;ur, however, we shall come to see that some of the greatest sagas reflect very much the state of mind of people who had lived through a period of radical social and conceptual change. Instead of an abstract analysis of social change, however, we find in the sagas concrete images oflife in the old society which require careful interpretation if they are to answer our questions about the thirteenth century. Before that interpretative stage is reached, we need to examine the literary context in which the writing of the sagas developed.

37

The Cultural and Literary Background

The Oral Culture of Viking-Age Scandinavia and Iceland Though the Nordic peoples in the Viking Age knew and made use of runes-an alphabet designed for carving on wood or stonetheir culture was basically an oral one.19 Runes and runic inscriptions are of great value for studying the history of Scandinavian languages and culture, but they are of limited interest for the literary history of Iceland. Our main concern here is with the oral culture of the settlers in the centuries before the advent of literacy, and with how native oral culture and the foreign literary culture developed and mutually influenced each other in the age of writing, up to and through the period during which the islendingasogur were written. The traditional poetry which has survived is mainly of two types: Eddic poetry, for the most part collected in the socalled Poetic Edda, which (in works unassigned to any named poet) tells of gods and ancient heroes and presents collective wisdom in relatively easily accessible alliterative verse and in a terse and dignified but straightforward style; and skaldic poetry, where a poet or skald (often identifiable) composes verses about his own situation and experiences, or addresses a prince or magnate in stylistically intricate panegyric verses. Within these two broad categories there is greater individual variety than can be discussed here. Our main source of knowledge about the poetic and narrative traditions of Viking-Age Scandinavia is Icelandic texts, but these can be supplemented with other evidence from the Scandinavian mainland-runic inscriptions, pictures carved in stone or wood, and historical texts, mainly in Latin, the most important of which is Saxo's voluminous Danish history, Gesta Danorum. The authenticity of these sources is confirmed by the traditions of more remote Germanic peoples. Poems such as Beowulf, The Fight at Finnsburg, Widsith, and the Hildebrandslied, make use of the allitera38

THE CULTURAL AND LITERARY BACKGROUND

tive metre most commonly found in the Eddic poems and exhibit a similar poetic style. Along with the German Nibelungenlied and a few poems in Latin they also reveal knowledge of the same or related heroic legends and semi-mythical traditions. These links are most easily detected in the heroic lays of the Poetic Edda and in the legendary sagas or fornaldarsogur. The subject matter of stories told in the mythological lays of the Poetic Edda, on the other hand, has few parallels elsewhere, although many features of the mythology are consistent with the image of pre-Christian Germanic religion which can be derived from other sources. Among these mythological lays the Havamal contains proverbial wisdom which it is illuminating to set alongside the moral attitudes revealed in the sagas. Eddic poetry was undoubtedly brought to Iceland from Norway where it was also known long after the country was Christianised. Some of the surviving lays may well have been composed in Norway or elsewhere in something resembling the form in which they now survive, but it was the Icelanders who first committed this poetry to vellum, and the extant texts must be seen as reflections of thirteenth-century Icelandic oral tradition, more or less faithfully recording the forms which recitation had developed over the years and similar to that which was probably still being recited in Scandinavia.20 Much more peculiar than Eddic verse is the poetry of the skalds. For the most part this consists of panegyric verse about kings and princes, composed in a uniquely complex form marked by syllabic regularity and rhyme. Particular characteristics of this poetry include its very free word order, its specialised poetic vocabulary and its heavy use of periphrasis (the so-called kennings) frequently based on mythological knowledge. The ideology of skaldic poetry is essentially the same as that to be found in heroic lays and legends, but the poems direct their attention almost exclusively onto the world of warriors. Court poetry concentrates on two contrasting scenes: the horrors of the battlefield where the necessary virtues are prowess in arms, physical courage, and loyalty to leader and comrades; and the peaceful banqueting hall where drink is served by gracious maidens while the king or prince rewards his brave and loyal followers with precious gifts. The hall is also the place where great deeds and royal virtues are immortal39

INTRODUCTION

ised by the skalds. Their poetry is characterised by extreme simplicity of subject matter and world view and an almost infinite variety of expression made possible through its formal rules.21 The strange art of skaldic poetry seems to have its origin in ninthcentury Norway-it certainly cannot be traced back any earlier or to any other countries; but from the end of the tenth century Icelanders seem to have monopolised the role of court poet in Scandinavia, even performing at courts in the British Isles. Their poetry later became the main source for Icelandic historiography in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. In different ways Eddic and skaldic poetry form an important context for the prose sagas. A few of the sagas have court poets, or skalds, as their protagonists, and in the world of the sagas it is not only court poets who practise the art of poetry-many saga heroes compose and recite isolated skaldic stanzas or even lengthy poems which express their feelings and reactions to events more openly than seems to have been possible within the conventions of the prose narrative itself. The ideals of a warrior society expressed in skaldic poetry find expression in the descriptions of many a saga hero, but the abstract heroism of such poetry is rarely to be found in the sagas or in the heroic lays of the Poetic Edda. The influence of Eddic poetry on sagas is more pronounced than that of skaldic verse even though the skaldic stanzas inserted into saga prose are in themselves more conspicuous. In the Eddic lays the emphasis is on a particular tragic situation-its emotional impact and aftermath-rather than on isolated heroic acts as celebrated in skaldic poetry. The sagas describe narrative action in a much more detailed way than does the poetry, and heroic excess is controlled by social pressures; the tragic and emotional consequences of heroism are as central to many sagas as they are to the lays. The oral tradition of the Viking Age was, no doubt, much more varied than indicated by this brief outline of the principal poetic genres. There were undoubtedly more popular verse forms: lullabies, mnemonic stanzas, magic chants, and the like; the laws were preserved orally as were genealogies and practical knowledge of all kinds (Gfsli Sigurosson 1994a). However, central to the present study is narrative prose of many kinds-from tales about events in

40

THE CULTURAL AND LITERARY BACKGROUND

which people had actually participated

to distant myths, from

formless to formulaic tales.

Oral Tradition in Iceland before the Advent of Writing Written documents record oral tradition as it existed and was understood at the time it was written down, although the actual process of writing and the attitude of the writer are bound to influence the final result. When we read texts from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries referring to events which are supposed to have taken place outside Iceland in pre-settlement times, there is no way of knowing whether they draw on traditions brought by the settlers, or whether the tales developed independently in later times, or whether, indeed, they had been imported. We can be sure, however, that oral tradition must have been lively and productive, although contact with written culture must have influenced some if not all aspects of traditional oral culture. Obviously, both content and form must have changed over time, and those genres most susceptible to written influence are likely to have lost some of their creative energy. As we have seen, Iceland went through radical social and cultural changes during these centuries, and there is no doubt that Christianisation had a profound and permanent effect on the mentality of the Icelandic people. The extent of these changes should not be overestimated, however. The beliefs and traditions that represented the cultural and mental bed-rock of Iceland did not vanish overnight or transform themselves into "folklore" in a modern sense. A number of the old beliefs and attitudes were opposed by the clerics with varying degrees of success, but important parts of the indigenous oral culture lived on, as the written texts demonstrate. The reason for this continuity lies partly in the essential conservatism of popular culture as well as a flexible attitude among clerics who had to make compromises with popular ideas, but partly also in the fact that society itself changed only slowlyand retained its ancient forms and features during much of the saga-writing period. Society needed its traditions to reinforce

41

INTRODUCTION

an ideology which still had a major role to play. We should see the advent of Christianity as the beginning of a prolonged dialogue between two vastly different perspectives: the official world view of the church as against the traditional world view of the people.22 This phenomenon was by no means unique to Icelandic societyChristianity everywhere entered into such a dialogue. The striking feature about Iceland was that its decentralised social structure in no way paralleled the hierarchic world view of the church. It is obviously no easy task to hazard even cautious guesses about the mental processes and world view of the people who settled Iceland. All the main characteristics of their language and culture point to some sort of Nordic, indeed Norwegian, origin, but many of the settlers had been on viking expeditions and some had lived for years in the viking settlements of the British Isles. Among the first generation there were undoubtedly some whose first language was a Celtic dialect. The question of Celtic elements in the Icelandic literary tradition is intriguing and controversial. To what extent did Celtic contacts in the British Isles during the Viking Age, including the importation of Celtic slaves, influence the culture of the Icelanders? There is irrefutable evidence of such influence from place-names and personal names, as well as from isolated narrative motifs. Whether or not the creation of poetry or prose narrative was significantly influenced by Celtic culture is a more controversial issue. A passionate debate on the Celtic question developed at the end of the nineteenth century, but influential scholars such as Finnur Jonsson and William A. Craigie rejected theories of major Celtic influence, and their main conclusions have been widely accepted. The issue remains a live one, however, and there is good reason to believe that contact with Celtic peoples and other inhabitants of the British Isles influenced Norse culture generally-not least some aspects of the culture of Iceland.23 Considering how vernacular literature developed in Iceland from the twelfth century onwards, it seems reasonable to conclude that not only poetry but storytelling played an important part in preserving oral traditions, whether from the pre-settlement period or from the first centuries after the settlement. It has been pointed out that many of the heroic lays are virtually unintelligible without a supplementary prose commentary, and in the fornaldarsogur we 42

THE CULTURAL AND LITERARY BACKGROUND

find the heroic stories developed through a mixture of prose and verse.24 In his Edda Snorri Sturluson frequently refers to and quotes from known (and unknown) mythological lays, but he also provides prose tales unsupported by any verse quotations, and these prose tales often yield information not known from any other source. Although there can be no doubt that Snorri, a master of prose narrative, refined the style of these narratives and was careful in what he selected, it is very likely that his sources included mythological tales as well as poetry.25 The preservation of court poetry is likely to have been connected with the telling of tales. In the kings' sagas skaldic stanzas are accompanied by prose, in which the context is explained and the content of the stanzas paraphrased. Although such passages of prose may not have been as extended and coherent in oral tradition as in the written sagas, it seems apparent that individual skaldic stanzas and whole poems must have been accompanied by at least some information about the events or circumstances to which they refer, information which would have been more easily preserved in a short but fully developed tale rather than in disorganised fragments.26 To sum up: from the settlement period onwards Icelanders sustained a rich and varied oral tradition which included individual stanzas and minor popular forms of verse (what Heusler calls Kleinlyrik) as well as more sustained and elaborate poems, both Eddic and skaldic. They also told tales based on mythological subjects, on the deeds of the kings and heroes of the old North, and, as news arrived, on important events in neighbouring countries, as well as on the adventures of Icelanders travelling overseas. No less important were events within the country, and so it was that a tradition of oral tales about the greatest heroes and their feuds developed. Needless to say, this oral tradition was creative, with truth and fiction both finding a place within it. The texts which, in due course, came to be written down underline just how appealing people found tales which told of the turbulent times of the settlement, of the pagan period and of the Christianisation of Iceland. Accordingly tales about such events and their protagonists were constantly repeated and recreated.

43

INTRODUCTION

The Age of Writing27 The coming of Christianity brought books and learning to Iceland as the means by which the teachings of the church could be disseminated. This required reading and writing skills in Latin, which was the language of the church and the learned lingua franca of the age. For some reason, perhaps as a result of influence from the British Isles, but probably also because of the lack of creative proficiency in Latin, Icelanders soon began to write in their own tongue. The first author whose work has been preserved was the priest Ari porgilsson-Ari the Learned (1068-1148). He received his clerical training from the son ofIceland's first bishop at his church farm in the vicinity of the See of Skiilholt. There he learned not only theology and doctrine but also historical lorethe chronology and principal events in the country's history. Ari was undoubtedly a man of great learning and was familiar with historical works such as Bede's Ecclesiastical History, and his knowledge of history must have impressed those who knew him, because the bishops and also Singeyrar in the north of Iceland had composed Latin hagiographical works about the missionary king of Norway Olafr Tryggvason. The earlier of these two works is preserved in its entirety in thirteenth-century translations, and fragments from a translation of the later work are also extant. It seems likely that the Icelanders had written about King Olafr Haraldsson in the twelfth century, although no such work now survives, but a saga bearing his name developed through several versions until it was given its final shape by Snorri Sturluson in the 1220's. However incomplete, this survey serves to show that by 1200 writers were already approaching the task of writing about historical events in a variety of ways. There were works about contemporary events, with at least one substantial biographical work of this kind taking shape. There were biographies about the Norwegian king who had brought Christianity to Iceland, and about the pious Olafr Haraldsson. There was also chronicle writing, which related 49

INTRODUCTION

the history of a nation, or rather of a dynasty. To the Norwegian chronicles already mentioned can be added Skjoldunga saga, an Icelandic chronicle dealing with Danish history, which was composed about 1200; this begins with legends dating back to the period portrayed in Beowulf and, in a characteristically learned medieval fashion, traces the genealogy of the dynasty back to Troy. The use of Latin alternates with the vernacular in these writings, which originated either under the auspices of the church or at the prompting of the royal houses. The vernacular works are demonstrably based on well-known Latin generic models-notably the vita and the chronicle. Icelandic works in the vernacular soon acquired a character very much their own due to the kinds of sources on which they drew and also, probably, as a result of influence from Icelandic oral tradition. Although the primary interest behind the first vernacular writings about the two Olafrs was ecclesiastical and spiritual, the Icelanders knew little about the piety of these two figures apart from the miracles attributed to Saint Olafr in older sources. Indeed, it was details about their viking expeditions and their battles in and beyond Norway during their reigns which could be found in extant skaldic verses and traditional tales. In the first saga about King Olafr Tryggvason that was translated from Latin into Icelandic we can see how the ecclesiastical perspective and the legendary material concerning his youthful adventures gradually yield to the traditional image of the idealised viking hero-his meteoric rise to power and the tragedy of his heroic death. The same narrative ambiguity characterises the earliest sagas of Saint Olafr, most of whose life had been far from saintly, although he subdued heathen worship and customs, but who was reported to have been the source of many miracles before and after his death, miracles which had already been recorded in Norway and were among the sources of the saga.

Historiography in the Early Thirteenth Century The first decades of the thirteenth century saw a remarkable burst of historical writing in Iceland. Norwegian kings continued to be 50

THE CULTURAL AND LITERARY BACKGROUND

written about in new chronicles and in new and extended versions of the saga of Olafr Haraldsson. The oldest of these chronicles was probably the so-called Morkinskinna, covering the years from 1030 to 1157, a work characterised by many anecdotes about Icelanders 37 and which includes a considerable number of skaldic stanzas. Fagrskinna, a work which shows clear signs of having been composed at the Norwegian court, is thought to have been written slightly later, perhaps between 1220-1230. It is a relatively straightforward and factual account and decidedly secular in its concerns, although marked by some features of clerical style. It also includes many skaldic stanzas. In this same period an Icelandic abbot, Styrmir Karason, wrote Lifssaga Dlafs helga [the Life of Saint Olafr] , in all likelihood a more substantial version than any previous one, but it survives only in fragments. Snorri Sturluson began his great work of historiography, Heimskringla [The Orb of the World], which may be assigned to the 1220's and 30's, with a new saga about Saint Olafr and continued it with a new chronicle of the Norwegian kings from antiquity to the rise of King Sverrir. The interests of Icelandic historians were not confined to Norwegian kings. There is strong evidence to suggest that they wrote about the earls of Lade (Hlaoir) in Trondheim and that this material was later incorporated in the great chronicles. A separate saga about their kinsman Hakon Ivarsson has been preserved. Quite early on, probably at the beginning of the thirteenth century, we can detect a broadening interest among Icelandic historians in works such as Orkneyinga saga, J6msvikinga saga, and Fcereyinga saga. The perspective of all these sagas is resolutely secular, with the exception of certain sections of Orkneyinga saga concerning the Life of Saint Magnus, earl of the Orkneys, which are partly based on an older hagiographic work. Orkneyinga saga, which is preserved only in a late text, is a chronicle about the earls of Orkney. It begins in the legendary or mythical past but becomes steadily more historical and full of incident when the events being narrated are almost contemporary with the time of writing; this same process of narrative transformation was noted in relation to the kings' sagas. Orkneyinga saga also makes extensive use of skaldic stanzas. J6msvikinga saga is a tale about legendary Danish kings and heroes with many comic incidents; the last part of the saga de51

INTRODUCTION

scribes a celebrated battle between Danes and Norwegians in the late tenth century. This saga, with its entertaining and sometimes mock-heroic treatment of characters and events, is not concerned with serious historiography, while Fa!reyinga saga, which tells of feuding between the principal chieftain families in the Faroe Islands around 1000 and oftheir dealings with the rulers of Norway, resembles the islendingasogur in composition and style, and is narrated with great artistry. In all likelihood, this period also saw the composition of sagas about Vinland - Gra!nlendinga saga and Eirz'kssaga raulJa (Olafur Halld6rsson 1978, 398-400). At some point around the year 1200 the Icelanders clearly began to feel the need for some native saints with a stronger appeal to the emotions of the common people than foreign kings and bishops, and each diocese came up with a candidate. The Icelandic church began the due process of scrutiny and assessment under a good deal of popular pressure, but the close co-operation between the secular and ecclesiastical powers is demonstrated by the fact that the sanctification of both Por1aroarson (1116-1183), a gooi skilled in the ways of Icelandic politics, who outmanreuvered the most prominent family in the western area of Dalir where he lived. As part of the settlement of one of his last law-suits, it was agreed that Snorri should be fostered at Oddi by Jan Loptsson, at that time Iceland's most influential and charismatic chieftain. Snorri remained at Oddi for twenty years from the age of two or three. By the time he had grown up, his father and foster-father were dead, his mother had squandered his inheritance, and his ambitious and gifted

53

INTRODUCTION

elder brothers had taken over and begun to expand further the riki or sphere of influence which their father had established. Rather than sharing their power with Snorri, his brothers arranged a wealthy marriage for him which brought him control of the farm at Borg in Borgarfjoror and also his first godard, in this instance the one which had once belonged to his famous ancestor, the skald Egill Skalla-Grimsson. Snorri left his wife after a few years and moved to Rey~aholt in the same area. In less than twenty years Snorri became one of the wealthiest and most powerful chieftains in the whole country. The extent of his authority can be judged by the fact that he was law-speaker in the years 1215-1231, apart from one three year period (12191221) when he was in Norway. In these years Snorri, two of his brothers and, subsequently, several of his nephews-together they were called Sturlungar [the kindred of Sturla] after Snorri's father-had gained control of much of the western quarter of Iceland and had established themselves in parts of the north as well. It looked as if these newcomers to the political scene, fiercely ambitious and extremely talented, were set to supersede those great families of the north, south and east which up to this time had been steadily increasing their wealth and influence. However, the new era of the Sturlungs collapsed: firstly, because of internal conflicts-Snorri's relationship with his brother Sighvatr was strained and he was in open conflict with one of Sighvatr's sons; secondly, because the old Haukdcelir family, for a long time one of the two great dynasties in the south and closely connected with the church, found a leader, Gizurr l>orvaldsson, who was no less politically shrewd than the Sturlungs and a good deal more ruthless than they ever were in his determination to defeat his enemies; and thirdly, because although the Sturlungs were the first Icelandic chieftains to ally themselves with the king of Norway, the king found them to be unreliable partners and in the end allied himself with Gizurr, who along ·with another northern chieftain had many of the Sturlung family killed in 1238, and then arranged Snorri's murder in 1241. Gizurr and Kolbeinn "the young" Arnorsson, the leaders of this faction, were Snorri's former sons-in-law. His plan to make them his allies and followers through arranged marriages had fatally backfired. 54

THE CULTURAL AND LITERARY BACKGROUND

Snorri went twice to Norway, in 1218-20, and again in 1237-39. During his first visit King Hakon was still in his early teens and power lay in the hands of his father-in-law, Earl Skuli Baroarson, with whom Snorri developed a close friendship. He returned to Iceland having had honours of all kinds showered on him by the King and the Earl, and with a commission to smooth the path for Norwegian merchants and even-although this is not stated clearly in the sources-to secure Icelandic acceptance of the Norwegian king as their ruler. Back in Iceland, however, Snorri turned out to be either an inefficient or reluctant agent, and when he came to Norway for the second time the political scene had changed and the king was now holding all the aces. Snorri, who had renewed his old friendship with Skuli, now a duke, went back to Iceland after two years in defiance of the king's ban, at a time when the rivalry between the king and Duke Skuli was turning into an open rebellion that ended with the killing of Skuli. Snorri was suspected of treason, and in 1241 the king duly sent orders to his trusted ally in Iceland, Gizurr l>orvaldsson, to return Snorri to Norway-or have him killed should he refuse to go. Gizurr deemed it prudent not to give the persuasive Snorri any opportunity to ingratiate himself with the king and had him killed on 23 September 1241. That the main facts of Snorri's life are known is thanks to one of his many gifted nephews, Sturla l>6roarson (1214-1284), author of islendingasaga, a lengthy chronicle of events in Iceland covering the period 1183-1264; the work constitutes the principal part of the compilation known as Sturlunga saga. Sturla leaves us in the dark, however, about most of Snarri's literary activity, though he mentions in one place that Snorri had written some sagas. He gives no clear picture of how Snorri first rose to power, although we are left in no doubt as to his intelligence and aristocratic lifestyle, as well as his unscrupulous ambition and insatiable greed for wealth and power. With Snorri Sturluson even more than with most of his contemporaries the distinction between his personal and political life became unclear at an early age. That he was taken away from home and spent his childhood and youth in Oddi, as a consequence of a political settlement intended to increase the prestige

55

INTRODUCTION

of his family, no doubt contributed greatly to his success as a politician and as a writer, but it may have scarred him psychologically. His relations with women were unstable, as Sturla confirms; his most successful alliance came in his mature years with a widow who was one of the richest women in Iceland. Their relationship lasted until her death, but his reluctance to hand over their rightful inheritance to her sons (who had grown up with him) led to one of them being party to the conspiracy to attack and kill Snorri. Snorri married off his daughters to some of the most powerful men in the country, but the marriages broke up and the sons-inlaw turned against him. His only legitimate son went to Norway, angry at his father's reluctance to grant him the necessary means to establish himself as a chieftain. During his stay in Norway the son met an accidental death. Snorri's other son, by one of his concubines, was a violent man with rather more ambition than sense who made trouble for his father instead of providing support. Snorri wished to have good relations with his brothers, but his ambitions conflicted with those of his nephews, one of whom, Sturla Sighvatsson, once drove him from his farm and seized much of his property. That problem was solved for Snorri while he was abroad for the second time: his enemies killed his brother Sighvatr along with four of his sons, including Sturla and many of their followers. There is no doubt that Snorri impressed his contemporaries with his intelligence and eloquence, his wealth and his aristocratic lifestyle, but he had his faults as a leader of men inspired by heroic ideals. Facing the possibility of violence his strategy was always to try to outnumber his enemies to such an extent that he could control the outcome, or at any rate was able to secure a fair settlement without a fight. When confronted by someone determined to fight, Snorri tended to lose his nerve and withdraw. Such is the history of Snorri's political career and such is the image of his character which emerges in simplified form from his nephew's chronicle. It is outlined here because of the context which it offers for his literary achievements, but it can also serve as a vivid and personal perspective on the turbulent life of the Sturlung Age described in this chapter.39 As a writer Snorri broke new ground. He started his career 56

THE CULTURAL AND LITERARY BACKGROUND

composing and sending to Norway poetic eulogies for Norwegian nobles, and on his first visit he presented poems himself. This early poetry has not survived apart from a single fragment, preserved because it was the subject of a parody. It is likely that Snorri's first overseas stay influenced the course which his life subsequently took. It is often said that his writing career began around 1220 on his return to Iceland. He must have had a unique knowledge of and access to traditional lore, and his first authorial project was aimed not only at preserving old traditions but at reinvigorating them so as to ensure their survival: his Edda (which we know as the Prose Edda) was meant primarily to serve as a textbook for aspiring court poets. Happily, Snorri found it impossible to explain the mysteries of skaldic style without at the same time providing a thorough account of pre-Christian mythology. In the prologue he gives an euhemeristic explanation of belief in the pagan gods; there follows in the first part of the work, Gylfaginning, [the Deception of Gylfi] a question and answer dialogue in which Ooinn describes the pantheon of gods and the great sweep of events from the Creation to Ragnarok, followed by a brief glimpse of the new world which was to appear at the end of that cataclysmic event. The material seems mainly to be derived from Eddie mythological lays supported by other sources-skaldic poetry, popular tales and common knowledge. Most scholars are agreed that the overall structure is to a considerable extent influenced by the Christianised world view of Snorri and his contemporaries. Mter Gylfaginning we find in the Edda a section on poetic diction, Skaldskaparmal, where further mythological lore is introduced as part of a comprehensive presentation of the system of mythological allusions which form the basis for the kenning style. There are also valuable grammatical and stylistic definitions which provide some clues as to Snorri's linguistic ideas and his learning.40 Snorri's main source for this section is skaldic poetry-the entire known corpus of such verse would be much reduced were it not for quotations in Snorri's works; indeed without his Edda there would be virtually no skaldic poetry extant on mythological subjects. Thus, quite apart from its other merits and interest, the Edda represents a unique anthology of such poetry.

57

INTRODUCTION

The final part of the Edda is known as Hattatal [Catalogue of Metres or davis metrica]. It is a skaldic poem composed by Snorri himself with Earl Sklili and King Hakon as its principal subjects. Each of its 102 stanzas demonstrates a different metre or some metrical and stylistical variation on a stanza form, with a brief commentary explaining the characteristics of each instance. Snorri's Edda reveals the author's immense knowledge of native lore and presents it within a framework that bears witness not only to his learning, but also, above all, to his independence and clarity of mind. Snorri's Edda is preserved in a variety of redactions; none of them can represent exactly the text as Snorri left it, and the middle section has an unfinished look to it. At the same time as Snorri was working on his Edda he must have begun his historical writing. The oldest historical work assigned to him is a saga about Saint Olafr which subsequently became the centrepiece of his vast Heimskringla chronicle about the deeds of the Norwegian kings.41 When Snorri started working on the lives of the Norwegian kings, sagas about them (from Halfdan the Black in the ninth century to Sverrir in the final decades of the twelfth century) 'Yere already in existence, and Snorri probably knew and made use of most of them as well as the other historical works already mentioned. He wrote an introductory section based on Ynglingatal, a poem which connects the Norwegian dynasty with the Ynglingar dynasty of Sweden and traces it back to the world of the gods. Snorri did not set out to create a new work with his kings' sagas. As with all other medieval historians he borrowed material from previous works on the subject and made it his own. Although he sometimes omits striking passages or whole tales from these earlier works, and though he seems occasionally to be compromising the artistic force of an incident through narrative pruning, the unanimous verdict of readers has been that his work represents a major advance on that of his predecessors. This seems also to have been the opinion of his contemporaries, because they did not try to improve his work, and for a long time they more or less stopped copying older redactions of works by his predecessors. Heimskringla is certainly imitated in Knjtlinga saga, a chronicle of the Danish

58

THE CULTURAL AND LITERARY BACKGROUND

kings, which has been ascribed to Snorri's nephew, Olafr poroarson (d. 1259).42 This is not the place to attempt a thorough assessment of Snorri's achievements and characteristics as an historian and writer. A brief word must suffice. For all that he occasionally includes passages marked by clerical ideology, his interests are fundamentally secular, and his understanding of history is formed by Icelandic narrative tradition and by his own experiences as an active participant in the relentless political turbulence of thirteenth-century Iceland. He assumed that the political game as played in Iceland was essentially the same as that which real and prospective kings had been playing in Norway for centuries (Bagge 1991,238-40).43 Snorri tends to expand his sources considerably, drawing on his immense knowledge of skaldic poetry, which he quotes copiously to authenticate what he is trying to say. In seeking to explain character motivation, he enlivens his narrative and enlightens the reader by the use of dialogues, which he either invents or recycles from his sources, with additional stylistic embellishment. He also departs from his sources by deploying speeches at important moments in order to explain a particular situation or the political consequences of certain actions. Snorri's characterisations are lively and frequently made more effective by his use of contrast. He understands the art of animating a scene by the addition of vivid incidental detail about the weather, the landscape, the appearance or mood of individuals-all such effects achieved with the utmost economy and discrimination. The result is a vigorous narrative which achieves a much greater sense of coherence, rationality and truthfulness than can be found in any of the works by his predecessors. Snorri was more judicious and independent-minded towards his sources than most medieval historians, weighing one against another, and, in all likelihood, he had access to more sources than anyone writing on Norwegian history before him. Yet the impression of authenticity derives more from his narrative skill and his psychological and political insight than from his critical scrutiny of sources, or his gifts as historian in the modern sense of the term.44 Both in his Edda and in Heimskringla Snorri excels as a narrative 59

INTRODUCTION

artist, and the nature of that art is basically the same as that to be found in the islendingasogur. It is difficult to account for the sudden flowering of this narrative art in the first decades of the thirteenth century, apart from pointing to the happy intersection of several factors: a lively and rich oral narrative tradition, the new possibilities opened by the use of writing, and a social and intellectual climate which encouraged gifted people to reflect on the past and write sagas about it. It was in these early thirteenth-century decades (the exact date is not clear) and in this stimulating cultural climate that the writing of the islendingasogur and also other kinds of narrative began.

New Genres and Subjects The translation of romances and other secular narratives into Norse began at the Norwegian court at the instigation of King Hakon in the 1220's. These translated romances soon became known in Iceland, and many of them are preserved in Icelandic manuscripts. A wave of prose translations in the thirteenth century saw the appearance of courtly romances such as Tristrams saga (based on Thomas's late twelfth-century version of Tristan), Erex saga (Erec et Enide) and ivents saga (based on the Erec et Enide and the Yvain of Chretien de Troyes); Karlamagnus saga (made up of translations of chansons de geste), and pioreks saga af Bern, a work usually thought to have been composed in Bergen in Norway from Germanic heroic matter. An Icelandic abbot, later Bishop Brandr Jonsson, translated Alexanders saga from the Latin twelfth-century epic, the Alexandreis. This cluster of examples reveals a lively Icelandic interest in and access to foreign narrative literature in the thirteenth century. It is debatable how early the legendary sagas or fornaldarsogur, romances on Nordic matters, were written, but SkjOldunga saga, J6msvikinga saga, and Ynglinga saga, the opening narrative of Heimskringla, share many similarities with the fornaldarsogur, suggesting that no essential distinction would have been drawn at that time between "historical" and "legendary" kings' sagas. Most scholars believe, however, that the earliest fornaldarsogur with ancient heroic themes, such as VOlsunga saga, 60

THE CULTURAL AND LITERARY BACKGROUND

Heioreks saga and Orvar-Odds saga, were written around the middle of the thirteenth century or perhaps somewhat later, and that the majority of the sagas belonging to this genre are the work of the fourteenth century. The clear affinities with jornaldarsogur discernible in an early work like E.'gilssaga (Baldur Hafstad 1995, 109-34) can be explained in terms of the influence of oral tales which must have preceded the jornaldarsogur and have represented the main material of this genre in its early stages. The first half of the thirteenth century saw the emergence of the first secular sagas dealing with people and events of the twelfth century, and the Sturlung Age. Most of these latter works were collected in the great compilation Sturlunga saga around 1300. These sagas differ in several respects from the islendingasogur, although this distinction is unlikely to have seemed important at the time of their writing. Sagas about the twelfth and thirteenth centuries are now usually called samtimasogur or contemporary sagas. These works often provide the most valuable and illuminating comparison with the islendingasogur.

The Writing of the Islendingasogur In this survey of Icelandic literature in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries discussion of the islendingasogur has been omitted up to now, since they are to be the subject of the main part of this book. Thus far the survey has sought to demonstrate that even had these immensely popular and widely famed sagas never been written, Old Icelandic literature could be considered remarkably rich and original within its medieval context. The islendingasogur certainly represented no miraculous blossoming in a literary desert. They represent only one, albeit the most remarkable, of the kinds of writing to which the medieval Icelanders applied their narrative skills. The question then arises-when were the Icelanders ready to deal with stories from their own past in the way demonstrated in the islendingasogui? A century ago the majority of scholars thought that most of the islendingasogur, and certainly all the "good ones", had been written down in the twelfth century, although such scholars did not neces-

61

INTRODUCTION

sarily regard the "writing down" process to have been an event of any great importance. By that time, however, some sagas had already been dated to the late thirteenth and even to the fourteenth centuries. By the early part of the present century attitudes had begun to change, and the estimated date of composition for most sagas has been moving inexorably (in some cases at break-neck speed) later. There has long been a general scholarly consensus that sagas of this type began to be written around orjust after 1200, and that the process continued through the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. There have been many attempts at both relative and absolute dating within these limits, including attempts to divide the development of sagas into as many as five successive stages.45 In recent decades individual saga datings, mainly established in the first part of the century by Icelandic scholars and thereafter generally accepted, have been challenged and even overturned.46 This problem will not be a principal concern of this book, but we shall return to it at the end when we draw the threads together. Our working assumption will be that the majority of the sagas were written in the thirteenth century or around 1300 and may be thought of as the classical islendingasogur, while the rest can be characterised as post-classical, with composition dates assigned to the fourteenth and, in exceptional cases, the fifteenth century. Another assumption made here is that the writing of the islendingasogurwas begun in the first half of the thirteenth century, probably before 1220, though this is not certain. It is now time to take a closer look at our main subject. What kind of stories do the sagas tell, and how are they told? What do they tell us about the time in which they were written, and about human life in general? Where do they belong in the context of western literature?

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II

NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART

Stories and Plots

Feuds and Conflicts At the heart of the plots which form the backbone of the islendingaso[fUTlie feuds in which honour and even life itself are at stake. The characters are often strange and striking individuals, whose actions (as revealed in the narratives) are entirely consistent with their temperament. Little is made of character traits which do not bear directly on the plot. Local circumstances serve to provide a framework within which the events unfold-in themselves they attract no attention. Events are a function of individual characters' personalities and of the prevailing social system, but it is the events themselves which justify the telling of the tale.1 Whatever the origins of feuds, they come to exercise a fundamental influence on characters' honour and status in society. Feuds invariably arise through some incident or event which is considered to have compromised a victim's honour, whether or not this had been the intention of the perpetrator. When, at the opening of Valla-Lj6ts saga, a rich farmer called Torfi proposes marriage to the widowed mother of Halli Siguroarson, there is no question of Torfi seeking to dishonour either mother or son, even though his own honour seems likely to increase were the match to go ahead. Yet for Halli the prospect of such a low-born man marrying into the family diminishes his honour and that of his kin; accordingly he finds an excuse to kill Torfi. When Halli himself seeks to increase his own honour by becoming leader of the Svarfaoardalr people, he begins by attacking the honour of VallaLj6tr, whose reaction is to kill his rival. When Viga-Glumr's kinsfolk in Viga-Glums saga try to increase their honour and wealth by appropriating his land, Viga-Glumr himself kills their leader and restores family honour. In so doing he dishonours his powerful relations, and they seek redress when opportunity arises. Caught

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NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART

up in such disputes a sensible chieftain knew well that settlements must eventually be made and that these could cost him too much if his adversaries had previously been harshly dealt with. Ghimr wishes to defend his lands and honour, but knows that he must either exercise moderation, or provoke a more powerful alliance against himself than he could cope with. In such circumstances there would be a very high price to pay for peace. This, indeed, is exactly what happens in the saga, and it drags Ghimr to eventual defeat. Men do not alwaysreact to assaults on their honour by resorting to the sword, and sometimes the initial points of contention seem of little importance-infringements of grazing rights or random actions which unintentionally cause offence. The first step is often to demand compensation; yet by the time terms have been agreed, both contending parties have more often than not gathered round themselves a band of supporters, chieftains or other prominent men, who are intent on resolving the dispute. In the saga world it often proves very difficult to restore equilibrium in such a way that all the parties involved can be satisfied, no matter whether the dispute is resolved by mutual agreement, independent arbitration, or due process oflaw. The honour of all those drawn into the affair is at stake, not least supporters and intermediaries, and even when terms are agreed by the leading protagonists, it is by no means certain that all the interested parties will accept the settlement. In seeking their own solutions, people can cause the cycle of violence to begin all over again. The danger of killings is often greatest when settlements have been reached which prove unacceptable to one particular individual. That person cannot demand compensation; instead he must wait for an opportunity to attack his adversary. Another cause of violence and vengeance in the wake of an apparently resolved feud occurs when some party to that dispute has played no part in its resolution. In Reykdmla saga, after the slaying of Askell the chieftain, one of his sons, porsteinn, is content to accept compensation for his dead father; but his brother Skuta is overseas at the time and takes no part in the settlement. Returning home, he duly avenges his father and the feud rumbles on. Mter the burning of Niall, a settlement is negotiated between Njall's relations and the burners. However, his son-in-law Kari,

66

STORIES AND PLOTS

father of the boy I>oror who perished in the flames at Bergporshvall, took no part in the settlement, and exacts his own grim revenge before a reconciliation is achieved at the end of the saga between Kari and Flosi I>oroarson, leader of the burners. When matters reach the stage where individuals have been killed, the likelihood of vengeance killings is high, even though the case has been settled; in this way feuds can continue, until the injury to both parties is so grievous that settlements are eventually arrived at. Only then can the saga end. It is often the case that by the conclusion of a saga all those involved in the original dispute are either dead or outlawed. In Eyrbyggja saga I>orarinn of Mavahlio and I>orbjorn the Fat of Frooa are locked in a conflict whose origins lie in the evil deeds of Katla of Holt and her son Oddr. By the end I>orbjorn, Oddr and Katla are all dead, and I>orarinn has been outlawed and plays no further part in the saga. The chieftains Snorri and Arnkell, who took up the case on behalf of the respective protagonists, are apparently reconciled until other incidents cause fresh discord between them.

Types of Saga Plots In order to develop a sense of what the islendingasogur are about, and how their stories unfold, it may be useful to outline the main events from a handful of these sagas; this should help us to understand how the sagas can be categorised. Valla-Lj6ts saga takes place in Eyjafjoror. It is a short work, and its overall shape and development are not difficult to grasp, yet it bears all the marks of a fully developed saga: Halli Siguroarson is a man of noble birth; his family come from E)jafjoror and Svarfaoardalr. When his widowed mother wishes to marry a wealthy man of modest background, Halli finds an excuse to kill the man even though his brothers have consented to the match. Halli is still very young at the time, and influential kinsmen reach a settlement on his behalf. When Halli reaches maturity he becomes an aggressive advocate on behalf of his kinsman GuOmundr the Powerful. Halli feels that he does not enjoy sufficient honour in E)jafjoror-he has become unpopular because of his

67

NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART

support for Guomundr-and moves his home to Svarfaoardalr, where he also has kinsfolk. The most formidable chieftain in the valley is Valla-Lj6tr, a peace-loving and unassertive man. Halli soon finds a pretext to challenge Lj6tr and has him pay compensation for breach of a holy day.2 At first Lj6tr chooses to believe that Halli's actions had been driven by his Christian beliefs, but with news of further hostility from Halli, his patience is exhausted; he ambushes Halli and kills him. Guomundr the Powerful takes up the case and a settlement is reached at the Thing. Shortly afterwards, Hr6lfr the brother of Halli seizes the opportunity to kill Lj6tr's nephew. Guomundr the Powerful and Valla-Lj6tr again reach a settlement. One day Halli's brother Boovarr and Halli's son Bersi, both of them peace-loving men previously uninvolved in the dispute, are making their way through Svarfaoardalr and take shelter from the bad weather with Lj6tr's brother. Bjorn, brother of the slain Svarfaoardalr man, assembles a party of men and ambushes Boovarr and Bersi, even though Valla-Lj6tr refuses to take part in the attack. Boovarr, Bersi and two other Eyjafjoror men are killed, as are two men of Svarfaoardalr. Guomundr the Powerful rides with a troop of men north into Svarfaoardalr, and seeks unsuccessfully to capture Lj6tr. A settlement is reached at the Thing between Guomundr and Lj6tr, with Bjorn sent out to Grfmsey for his own safety. While the Thing is still in session, Hr6lfr makes his way to Bjorn and his custodian, and forces them and their men to pay two hundred in silver. Hr6lfr is later compelled to repay the same amount and the settlement terms are adhered to. Soon afterwards Hr6lfr dies.3

Halli's initial killing shows that he is arrogant and aggressive, qualities which he exhibits subsequently. The main plot begins when he moves home to Svarfaoardalr, and it is clear that he intends to wrest power from Valla-Lj6tr. Though he is a man of peace, Lj6tr soon shows that he will not allow himself to be intimidated. Mter Halli's death, Lj6tr's main adversary is Guomundr the Powerful, even though neither man takes part in any killings. Each is undisputed chieftain in his own area and is satisfied with this balance of power, and their friends amongst the other chieftains play their part in making peace between them. Not everyone is looking for peace, however, and at the instigation of some close relatives of the dead men, people of lower social status, vengeance is exacted. This, in turn, triggers further revenge, and by the time

68

STORIES AND PLOTS

the disruption caused by Halli has been dealt with, his side of the family has been destroyed. 4 Many Icelandic sagas tell similar stories, and though the narrativesare rarely as straightforward, the principal elements are often much the same from saga to saga: disruption caused by men protecting or looking to increase their honour, and the intervention of relatives and supporters not directly involved in the events and seeking a settlement. Though Valla-Lj6ts saga is neatly constructed and relatively realistic, it has never enjoyed much popularity. Its main characters have no striking presence about them-they appear distanced from the reader; the narrative itself seems sketchy even though there appear to be no actual gaps in the text. Viga-Glums saga is a product of the same region and the two sagas share several characters. It resembles Valla-Lj6ts saga in the realism of its battle descriptions, but it is a more arresting and attractive work because, amongst other factors, the principal character is so vividly depicted. Viga-Ghimr shares several of the characteristics of the tragic saga hero, but there is also a comic dimension to him, and-not least-there are supernatural and mythic elements playing over the saga and contributing to its overall complexity. In Viga-Glums saga Ghimr is on stage, as it were, throughout the work and serves to connect incidents between which there would otherwise be no direct causal relationship. Valla-Lj6ts saga takes the form of a single-stranded plot whose most colourful character is killed before the saga is half over, and his role as chief protagonist is thereafter distributed amongst a variety of other figures. Viga-Glums saga offers a generally sympathetic account of Ghimr's turbulent life: Glumr's father, a grandson of the early settler Helgi the Lean, travelsto Norway,wins his spurs, and secures a well-bornbride. The young Glumr is a layabout who refuses to stir himself even though, after his father's death, kinsmen harass his family and seize their land. He journeys to Norway to meet his grandfather and there proves his courage and shows his mettle. Returning to Iceland he vigorouslydefends the rights of his familyand killsthe main aggressor. The case goes to the Althing where Glumr triumphs. His kinsmen and neighbours, the people of Espih6ll, take a dim view of what has happened, but the matter is now at an end. The next

69

NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART quarrel between Glumr and the people of Espih6ll is triggered by young suitors, each of whom has relatives on one of the sides. Each side seeks to denigrate the other's honour. Both parties assemble forces, but intermediaries act and a settlement is reached. The next dispute arises out of a horse fight, in the course of which Glumr kills a supporter of the Espih6ll people. They take up the case but Glumr outwits them in court and pays only modest compensation; the Espih6ll people are humiliated. Glumr next lands in trouble with his former son-in-law Viga-Skuta; this dispute, of which there is also an account in Reykdada saga, is unconnected with his problems with the Espih6ll people. It remains unresolved. For a long time Glumr is the most respected man in his family and amongst his kinsfolk, but eventually things begin to go wrong for him. In his next dispute, caused by Vigfuss Glumsson, Glumr shows moderation to begin with, which earns him general approval, but when Vigfuss causes further mischief Glumr's luck changes; Vigfuss kills a man related both to the Espih6ll people and to the brothers Einar E)j6lfsson and Guomundr the Powerful, both of whom are descendants of Helgi the Lean. Glumr cannot prevent Vigfuss being outlawed for three years, though the young man secretly spends this period with his father. A dispute then arises when an Espih6ll man kills one of Glumr's kinsmen in a dispute over a woman. Both parties assemble their supporters. For a time nothing happens, but eventually there is a fierce fight with many casualties. In the aftermath Glumr deploys false oaths and other trickery, and when this is revealed he is sentenced by the court to sell his homestead at :Pvera and leave the district. Glumr has subsequent skirmishes with his kinsfolk in E)jafjoror but never re-establishes his position. Aged and blind, he is baptised during his last illness, and "he died in the white robes of a convert."

Viga-Glums saga takes the form of a biographical introduction both

which

courage

reveals

saga with a brief

how the eponymous

and cunning

from

his father's

hero

inherited

side of the family

(Davia Erlingsson

1981), and luck and charisma from his mother's

side. To a certain

extent

the story of Ghimr Viga-Ghimr farmer performs

eventually

and chieftain. no particular

much concerned

the story of his father

himself.

For all his promise

commits Though

as a young hero,

himself to the life of a traditional his bravery

feats as a fighting

with honour,

Eyj6lfr anticipates

is not in question, man, and though

he does not hesitate

70

he he is

to make use of

STORIES AND PLOTS

native cunning more appropriate to a farmer than a hero. Unlike the Valla-Lj6ts saga plot, that of Viga-Glums saga is somewhat confusing, but the reader's attention never wavers in spite of the difficulties posed by the profusion of characters and by the complexity of family and kinship relationships. The saga's unity is built around Ghimr himself, a vividlyhuman figure with his share of vices as well as virtues; the reader sympathises with Ghimr when he is forced to abandon his estate, which was the cause of all his feuds. The saga is also held together by supernatural forces: family luck, the good fortune which smiles for a period on worthy individuals, and belief in the powers of the god Freyr. Such elements not only lend unity to the work, but point to ways of interpretation.s Viga-Ghimr is a fine poet and the saga contains many of his verses. However, he is not a court poet, and with one exception (see p. 126) his verses are of little importance in the development of the saga, though they offer insights into the mind of the hero. A whole group of sagas tells of the lives of skalds who win renown by reciting verses for foreign rulers. Four of these works feature a poet who is betrothed to a woman back in Iceland who eventually marries another man. This creates disputes which in two of the sagas, Gunnlaugs saga ormstungu and Bjarnar saga Hitdadakappa, lead to the death of the hero; in the other two works, Hallfreoar saga and Kormaks saga, the poets seem content to love the woman from afar. Gunnlaugr, Hallfreor and Kormakr can all be blamed for not marrying the women to whom they are betrothed. They fail to follow society's rules or the agreements into which they themselves had freely entered. These poets' sagas are distinctive in that the poets themselves are capricious loners, often only half-heartedly in touch with their families and sometimes in open disagreement. Porm6or Kolbninarskald, the royal poet in F6stbrmOrasaga, resembles the hero of Hallfreoar saga in being more loyal to kings and heroes than to the woman he woos. The greatest of these poets, and a man quite unlike them in many ways, is Egill Skalla-Grimsson. He is loyal to the woman he loves; the honour of his family is very important to him, even though his relationship with his father is awkward; and he finds himself in dispute with kings and is reluctant to serve them. All these poets' sagas are biographical in form. As its name

71

NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART

implies F6stbrlPora saga offers a double biography, and Egils saga is unusual in that the first part presents a separate and self-contained account of the hero's ancestors and family, but there is never any doubt that the main story concerns Egill, and from the moment of his first appearance in the saga he remains the centre of narrative attention until his death, and indeed even beyond it. Some sagas are concerned more with families than with individuals. An example of a saga whose conflicts stretch across generations is Vtipnjiroinga saga: Brodd-Helgi and Geitir Lytingssongrow up together in Vopnafjoror. They are both chieftains' sons, good friends and companions. He1gi marries Halla, sister of Geitir. By nature Helgi is a greedy troublemaker; his friendship with Geitir cools because of a dispute over some goods, and it is not long before there is enmity between them. He1gisends his sickwifeback to her brother's house and in a variety of waysbehaves arrogantly towards Geitir who bides his time until support for He1giis eroded by his persistent greed and aggression. Geitir then assembles supporters of his own, approaches He1giand kills him. Helgi's son Bjarni is partly brought up by Geitir his uncle, and the parties are reconciled. Friendship between Bjarni and his uncle continues for a while until the young man can no longer resist the goading to which he is subjected and kills Geitir, but regrets at once having done so. I>orkellGeitisson is abroad at the time of his father's death, but refuses settlement terms on his return and seeks to attack Bjarni. They come to blowsand four men die on each side. Bjarni is generous-hearted and eager to end the dispute. Terms are agreed and friendship develops between the two men. Much of the narrative material in Vtipnfiroinga saga is tragic in nature, with its disputes and killings of brothers-in-law, kinsmen and neighbours; yet ultimately the wish to achieve peace and reconciliation overrides everything. The origin of the disputes lies in Brodd-Helgi's aggressive and overbearing behaviour, and it takes a long time to reestablish the peace which he has destroyed. The saga's chain of events is clear and unified even though it stretches over two generations and tells of two families.6 Much more complex than the sagas discussed thus far is Eyrbyggja saga. Readers have long complained that it is a difficult saga to develop an overall sense of, and to establish a clear narrative

72

STORIES AND PLOTS

shape out of its many disparate

elements.

In medieval

manuscripts

the saga is called "The saga of the people of l>6rsnes, the people of Eyri, and the people

of Nftafjoror",

thus highlighting

its connec-

the islendingasogur, yet a more correct title would have been "The saga of

tion with three families, which in itself is unique the people of l>6rsnes" because nently in the story. a regional of

among

it is they who feature

most promi-

Eyrbyggja saga has sometimes been regarded

saga, and seems to have neither

the biographical

as

form

Viga-Glums saga, nor the single-stranded unity of Valla-Lj6ts saga Vapnfiroinga saga. A detailed plot summary of Eyrbyggja saga

and

would take up too much space; the following structure

and main

narrative

account

events in the order

outlines

in which

its they

happen: The saga begins with an account of certain chieftains in Norway and tells of their settlement on the north shores of the Sn~fellsnes peninsula in Iceland. Particular attention is paid to I>orolfr Mostrarskegg, ancestral father of the I>orsnes people, and his friend Bjorn the Easterner, ancestral father of the Iqalleklings, some of whom were later called the Eyri dwellers. After identifying many other early settlers and settlements, the saga then tells of disputes which subsequently developed between the I>orsnes folk and Iqalleklings. Detailed genealogies are provided which link the settlement period to the years in which the main events of the saga take place. Though packed with information, this introductory section represents less than a tenth of the whole saga. Thereafter the chieftain Snorri I>orgrimsson develops as the figure through whom all events are connected, though it would be wrong to describe the saga as a biography of Snorri in the conventional sense of the term. After an account of how Snorri gains control of the family estate and power, the main part of the saga begins. Feuds and other incidents relating to Snorri are narrated, with different events happening to some extent at the same time, thereby leading to the interlacing of separate narrative strands. The feuds have a variety of causes and Snorri's involvement is often that of spokesman for one of the contending parties; yet the saga is not always told from his point of view. The feuds invariably end with Snorri having strengthened his position; one major adversary is killed, another leaves the country, and a third agrees to a settlement. We learn of the arrival and acceptance of Christianity, and then of the "Wonders of Frooa" (a great sickness followed by eery hauntings) which take place on the

73

NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART

farm of l>uriOr,Snorri's sister. Strange forces hold people in their deadly grip until priests, representatives of the new faith, and Snorri, representative of secular authority, join together to eliminate them. There followsa brief account of Snorri's dealings with the people of Borgarfjoror after the killing of Styrr his father-in-law, events which are described in greater detail in HeilJarviga saga. We then learn, without any attempt being made to connect the fact to the main plot, that Snorri changes places with Guorun Osvifrsd6ttir, setting up home at S~lingsdalstunga in Dalasysla.The saga reveals, in an action-packed narrative sequence, how he energetically discharged his responsibilitiesas chieftain bywiping out a robber band in the north at Strandir. The saga then reverts to Sn~fellsnes, and the main disputes involvingSnorri in that region are recalled in a group of short tales with a supernatural colouring. The final chapter offers a brief account of Snorri's latter years; his descendants are named; and his death is described. Though Snorri's ancestors loom large in the introductory chapters of Eyrbyggja saga, and though he himself figures prominently in the main part of the saga, the work is no conventional biographical saga. In the first place it tells only of Snorri's activities and conflicts during the first part of his life, and in many disputes his involvement is limited to the concluding stages. Secondly, it is often the case that the saga seems more sympathetic towards Snorri's adversaries than towards Snorri himself, for all that the saga makes no attempt to hide its admiration for his wisdom and good counsel which prove more influential than the heroism and prowess of his enemies.7 In its form Lj6svetninga saga is not unlike Eyrbyggja saga. It is much concerned with regional disputes and is structurally somewhat incoherent. However its main narrative material is the conflict between, on one side, Guomundr the Powerful ofM6oruvellir and his son E)j61fr, and on the other side the people of I>inge)jarsysla, notably the descendants of I>orgeirr, the Lj6svetnings' chieftain. Though more attention is paid to Guomundr and E)j61fr than to any of the other characters, their overall presentation is largely negative. They lack wisdom and courage, and their wealth goes hand in hand with an arrogant and overbearing manner. There are all kinds of men to be found amongst the Lj6svetn-

74

STORIES AND PLOTS

ings-peaceable and quarrelsome, wise and foolish-but none of them is described in sufficient detail to justifY his being regarded as the saga's principal character.s All the sagas examined in this chapter deploy traditional forms of feud and conflict as their main narrative material. In Valla-Lj6ts saga and Vapnfiroinga saga we find a single-stranded and unified plot, albeit that events in the latter work stretch over two generations. There are many other sagas similar in form, when we discount their introductions, and they can reasonably be classified as feud sagas: Bandamanna saga, Hrafnkels saga, Ha!nsa-POris saga and Droplaugarsona saga are all works of this kind. Viga-Glums saga and Eyrbyggja saga, though lacking a single-stranded plot, achieve their shape from the way in which feuds affect a single character. It is the significance of such events for a single individual that gives form to the disparate elements of Viga-Glums saga and Eyrbyggja saga. Disputes in the poets' sagas are characterised by their strongly personal nature. The outlaw sagas-Gisla saga, Grettis saga and Haroar saga-may all be thought of as biographical works, but they, too, are distinctive in structure because of conflicts which lead first to outlawry, eventually to the outlaw's death, and even to vengeance being exacted on his behalf; and there are the adventures of the outlaws themselves in which the fugitive's ingenuity is tested to the full as he tries to elude his pursuers and persecutors. The conflicts in Gisla saga, whose origins can be traced back to earlier generations, and to events in the lives of Gisli and his siblings in Norway as described in the introduction, are closely linked, clearly focused, and lead inexorably to his outlawry. By contrast Grettir and Horor find themselves caught up in a variety of incidental disputes and adventures before they are outlawed. Incidents from the periods of outlawry often function as comic relief in what are essentially tragic narratives.9 Some of the longer sagas have an essentially binary structure. This is certainly the case with Heioarviga saga in which the first part tells of the affairs of Viga-Styrr, his slaying, and the escape of his killer; and the second part concentrates on the heath killings which break out after Styrr's death, and in which BarcHGuomundarson is the chief protagonist. There are causal links between these

75

NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART

two parts, albeit of a somewhat far-fetched nature, but we deal with a completely new set of characters and settings for the action. The structure of Njtils saga is also essentially binary. Some scholars have seen the work as made up of two sagas, Gunnars saga and Njtils saga-the first part ending with the death of Gunnarr, and the second with the burning of Njall and its aftermath. These two parts are, however, connected in a variety of ways: the principal character of the latter part plays an important role in the early sections of the saga, while the disputes between the sons of Njall and the sons of Sigfuss in the second part are a direct continuation of the tensions between Hallgerar and Bergp6ra in the first half. Even though different and unrelated factors lead to Gunnarr's death, that event is connected to the conflicts involving the sons of Njall, because Morar Valgarasson plays a similar role in both. The structure of Njtils saga is unusual in that it begins outside the main setting for the saga's action by introducing chieftains who play no role in the main events. The introduction has its own independent plot which develops for a time until Gunnarr of Hlfaarendi and his friend l\ljall are introduced and drawn into the relentless sequence of events. In the saga's lengthy final section Kari Solmundarson and Flosi I>6raarson are the principal characters, both of whom appear for the first time relatively late in the saga. One further saga which is divided into two is Reykdcela saga ok Viga-Skutu. In the first part we learn about Askell the peace-loving chieftain and his troublesome and badly-behaved nephews. For all Askell's diplomatic skills, the reconciliations which he brings about are rarely lasting ones, and his own life ends violently. The second part of the saga begins at this point, with Skuta, Askell's son, as the main character. He is a great warrior and avenges his father at the cost of much subsequent trouble, until he too meets a violent end. Structurally the saga is somewhat disjointed.lO When account is taken of their introductory material, some of these works may reasonably be classified as family sagas. Yet the only fully-fledged family sagas are Laxdcela saga, Vatnsdcela saga, Lj6svetninga saga and, to some extent, Egils saga. Vatnsdcela saga tells the story of the leaders of the Vatnsdalr district over several generations. Sometimes they find themselves in traditional sorts of conflict with prominent adversaries, but it is often less worthy

76

STORIES AND PLOTS

opponents who challenge their power. Witches and other villains create havoc until the Vatnsdalers rid their region of such disruptive forces. I I The saga is held together by its concentration on the principal family and the region; and much the same may be said of Laxd(l!la saga, though this latter work is a good deal more tautly structured. The account of the first generation of Laxdalers may be viewed as an introduction to the story of Iqartan, Bolli and Guorun, and our sense of the work as a family saga is complicated by the fact that Guorun, who is not a Laxdaler by birth, enjoys great prominence from the beginning of saga's main story through to the end. Yet the account of Iqartan's ancestors-of the pioneering woman settler Dnm the Deep-Minded, of Hoskuldr Dala-Kollsson and his half-brother Hrutr, who are third generation descendants from Dnm, and then of Olafr "the Peacock" Hoskuldsson and his half brothers Baror and porleikr-is so detailed and powerful in its own right that there is still every reason for classifYingthe work as a family saga. Moreover, after the deaths of Bolli and Iqartan, a new generation appears of whom Bolli Bollason is an outstanding representative. Lj6svetninga saga describes the disputes between two or three generations of Lj6svetning and Eyjafjoror people-the descendants of E)j6lfr Valgeroarson of Mooruvellir and porgeirr the chieftain of Lj6savatn. In Egils saga the account of the disputes between King Haraldr Finehair and first p6r6lfr Kveld-Ulfsson, and later his father and brother, is so closely observed and vivid that it is by no means misleading also to think of that work as a family saga; and we find Egill's son porsteinn as a disputant at the end of the saga even though it is Egill who is still very much controlling events. However, with the figure of Egill SkallaGrimsson towering over so much of the saga which bears his name, it seems more appropriate to regard the work as a biographical saga with an unusually detailed introduction setting the scene for the prolonged conflicts between Egill and the Norwegian kings. The post-classical sagas have been little mentioned up to this point. For the most part they are structured along the lines of older sagas, though they contain all kinds of narrative exaggeration and exotic supernatural material. The principal difference between these younger sagas and those which may be regarded as

77

NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART

older is that the conflict sequences tend to be less complex because elements such as the search for peace, the preparation of cases for court, and efforts to restrain killers and prevent killings playa less prominent role. These are neither family nor regional sagas; the narrative material focuses rather on a single individual. The most striking exception is Svarfda?la saga in which it is hard to identify any single dominant character. Though the eponymous hero figures prominently in Hdvaroar saga isfiroings, the work is by no means a biography. Havaror is already advanced in years when the saga begins; the narrative concentrates on a single event (the death of the hero's son) and its fateful consequences.12 In what has been said so far the main emphasis has been on feuds as the principal subject matter of the islendingasogur. Yet the narratives frequently contain important material which cannot easily be assigned to one of the traditional feud plots-such as incidents and information which are not essential to the main action but which lend substance and diversity to the saga. In VigaGlums saga we follow the youthful Ghimr on his overseas journey during which he shows his mettle so dramatically. Such journeys playa significant role in many sagas. Gunnarr in Njdls saga and Iqartan in Laxda?la saga undertake journeys, perform worthy deeds and have dealings with kings. The renown earned during these travels accompanies them home to Iceland. Grettir is another hero who travels overseas and demonstrates his bravery and worth. Yet, as his visit to the court of King Olafr Haraldsson confirms, Grettir's overseas exploits bring him little good fortune. No group of saga characters enjoys as much royal favour as the court poets, and their travels are important elements in the sagas which tell of their lives and loves. On these journeys they reveal their supreme skill as skaldic poets; they also, not infrequently, become involved in a variety of dangerous situations. The main function of such overseas ventures is to test the hero and to afford him the chance of showing the world what he is made of. The successful hero receives confirmation of his merits in the form of royal praise and gifts. Not infrequently, however, the overseas conflicts in which he finds himself involved rear their heads again in more conventional disputes after his return to Iceland. So it is with the accidental killing for which Grettir is responsible while he is

78

STORIES AND PLOTS

abroad and which eventually leads to the hero's outlawry; and with the friction between the poets Hrafn and Gunnlaugr who quarrel over royal favour whilst overseas and over Helga the Fair whilst back home in Iceland. Another example is the train of events involving the sons of 1'ljalland the sons of Sigfuss in Norway, when 1'ljall's sons clash with Earl Hakon because Prainn SigfUsson had hidden a criminal from him. Back in Iceland this re-ignites earlier disputes, and leads eventually to the deaths of Prainn and his son Hoskuldr, and to the burning of 1'ljalland his family, including his sons. Overseas journeys thus work in two ways. Sometimes they offer the hero an opportunity to reveal his prowess in events which have no unpleasant consequences back in Iceland; and sometimes they can lead to further and more disastrous hostilities when the hero returns home. Egils saga differs in certain respects from sagas of this type in that while Egill proves his heroism abroad, he also runs into his most serious disputes. He does not end up at odds with some minor chieftain, but instead stirs up the old hostilities of his father and grandfather against King Haraldr Finehair, and becomes involved in a protracted dispute with King Eirikr Bloodaxe Haraldsson and his queen. All these examples may serve to highlight the diversity of form to be found amongst the islendingasogur. We can say that while such sagas do not exhibit the rigidity of form which tends to characterise traditional fairy-tales or twentieth-century classical de~ tective stories, they are constructed in ways and with elements which may be regarded as traditional or even formulaic.

Beyond the Plot Though most islendingasogurappear to be "pure" narratives reporting a sequence of events just as they happened, the text always contains material which though not directly part of the plot itself nevertheless contributes importantly to the saga, both by helping to establish the narrative world within which the events take place, and by offering a frame of reference for the interpretation of those events. We have already noted that Viga-Glumr's first act after returning

79

NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART

home

from

harassing become

his foreign

travels

IS

to kill a man

who has been

his family. Mter the killing and before its repercussions apparent,

the saga tells of a dream which Glumr had:

It is said that Glum had a dream one night. He seemed to be standing outside on his farm and looking out towards the fjord. He dreamed he saw a woman walking in through the district, and she turned directly towards Thvera; but she was so big that her shoulders touched the mountains on both sides. And he dreamed that he went out of the farmyard to meet her and invited her to stay with him-and then he woke up. It seemed remarkable to everyone, but he said this: "It's a great and notable dream, and I explain it like this-Vigfus my grandfather must now be dead, and the woman who was taller than the mountains as she walked must be his personal spirit. He was, after all, honoured above other men in most things, and his personal spirit will seek out a home for herself with me." And in the summer, when ships arrived from Norway, the death ofVigfus was announced. Then Glum recited a verse: Helmeted, huge, I saw-her wrist, "hawk-island", glistening with icy silver-like Earth [a goddess (here = woman)] a spirit in Eyjafjord walking; the striking goddess of strife seemed in my dream to stand -you harrying fighter-as high as the hills stand on either hand (ch. 9; ii 280-81).

Ganas Krisgansson's edition (iF IX 31-2) offers a simplified summary of the verse: "I saw a helmeted woman, loyal goddess of men, mighty of stature, approaching Eyjafjoror; as it seemed to me in the dream the valkyrie was as tall as the mountains, warrior."] Here is a clear indication incident

and become

and position

that Glumr will derive honour

a chieftain

in the community

cosmic perspective,

as revealed

from this

blessed by good fortune. is seen in a religious in the description

of the dream

woman who now literally fills the space in which Glumr's lies. News ofVigfuss's Glumr's

death confirms

wishful thinking.

future

that the dream is more than

His verse interrupts

80

His life

and even

the train of events

STORIES AND PLOTS

and enhances the importance of what has happened. But any reader familiar with the world of old Icelandic sagas, and of the old northern religion, knows that the dream does not guarantee Ghimr's long-term good fortune. The luck attached to Vigfuss's personal spirit is transitory. One way by which Ghimr attempts to guarantee his future good fortune and well-being is by sacrificing to the god Freyr. His enemies do the same, however, and Glumr's fall is predicted in a dream in which a hostile Freyr appears. There are other elements which contribute to the mythic superstructure of Viga-Glums saga. His grandfather gives him several items in which good fortune resides, and tells him never to part with them; Ghimr eventually violates this interdict when he gives them away to kinsmen from the south of Iceland who had offered him valuable support. There are also premonitions and prophecies, all underlining the sense that everything in the saga is bound up with the workings of fate. All these elements take the form of individual incidents within the saga, but there is no explicit line of causation between these incidents and the dealings of men which comprise the main action. Their omission would not compromise the overall plot. In Viga-GlUms saga such elements place the story clearly within the context of belief in the ancient gods and in the supernatural. In other sagas the sense of fatalism is more impersonal and intangible. This is the case in Laxdcela saga and Gisla saga where dreams serve to indicate the future, create narrative tension, and lend weight to the events; it is also the case in Njdls saga where all sorts of prophecies and omens play an important role in unifying the mass of narrative material at the same time as they create a powerful undercurrent of fatalism. Though such references to superhuman or supernatural forces can sometimes have a Christian colouring, we are dealing here not so much with any theological element but more with the influence of a popular Icelandic conceptual world which has adapted Christian conceptual modes to its own ways of thinking. Any account of sagas which neglects this element is incomplete and likely to lead to sociological or anthropological interpretations which are too narrow in focus.13

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Topography Iceland is the centre of the islendingasogur world, and the sagas exhibit a powerful sense of place as regards the various parts of the country in which the actions occur, even though the author's knowledge is not alwaysaccurate, and even when, as was suggested above, settings are used primarily to serve the plot of the saga rather than as narrative decoration. Frequently saga scenes refer to or are set in other countries-Norway especially, but also neighbouring lands such as Denmark and Sweden, the British Isles, the Faroe Islands, Greenland and even Vinland (North America). Icelanders also journey to Russia and even as far east as Constantinople. The geographical horizons of the saga world resemble those of educated people in the European Middle Ages. In the earliest sagas the predominant sense is that, having settled Iceland, man controls it. Any problems arising are due to human interactions, and when nature challenges it is most often the sea which is the problem. However, when we read of journeys abroad we are frequently brought face to face with uncertain regions beyond the control of man-distant northern lands and wild locations where vikings roam and where men fight each other on the margins between sea and land (frequently near skerries, islets and islands). We need not doubt that men knew well enough that there were mysterious and dangerous regions within Iceland-in the wide expanse of the interior, or by waterfalls and lakes. This same untamed world finds a prominent place in later sagas, as folk-belief and folk-tales connected with the country gradually developed and flourished. There is a great deal of such material in Grettis saga. Grettir confronts supernatural forces from the region of death, such as the ghost Ghimr, but also giants and half-giants in the wilds, and trolls living under waterfalls, like the monster Grendel in Beowulf. Nowhere in this untamed world of nature are supernatural beings presented more vividly than in Baroar saga Snrefellsass. Outside Iceland it is particularly the remote northern regions, Finnmark and Greenland, which seem to be the refuge for forces beyond the framework of conventional nature; in late works such as Hoamanna saga, Baroar saga and Kroka-Refs saga, Greenland is 82

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particularly important as an arena in which supernatural events are played out. A different kind of fairy-tale world is to be found in far-off lands to the south and east. From this outline of the narrative material and its disposition in the islendingasogur, we move now to their narrative structure.

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Narrative Structure

Beginnings and Endings Like any other narrative, a saga has a beginning, a middle and an end. The middle tells of the dealings between characters and traces the sequence of events. The beginnings and endings of sagas describe situations rather than events; they function as a saga's framework rather than as its core. In the beginning characters are introduced, and the information supplied makes it possible for the reader or listener to determine the point at which the main story actually begins, whether this is before or after the period of Iceland's initial settlement, or even after the end of the main settlement period. At the end of the saga, after all the events have run their course, we learn of the fates of the principal characters, and sometimes also of their descendants. A saga's introductory material provides us with the names of individuals, some of whom will play major roles in the work, whilst others are their ancestors and kinsfolk. A reader may expect to learn about the places where people live and about their families; brief character portraits are often included. Many sagas begin by introducing at least some of the principal characters: amongst these sagas are Bandamanna saga, Bjarnar saga Hitdcelakappa, Havaroar saga isfiroings, Hcensa-Poris saga, and Valla-Ljots saga. It is, however, more usual for a saga to begin by providing some information about the parents and more distant ancestors of the principal character, and by outlining the arrival and settlement of the families in Iceland: see, for example, Eiriks saga rauoa, Eyrbyggja saga, Haroar saga, Kjalnesinga saga and Laxdcela saga. Mter such preliminary material there follows an introduction to the main story, sometimes in the form of a narrative about events which took place in Norway or amongst the first generation of settlers in Iceland (Egils saga, Gisla saga, Hallfreoar saga, Vatnsdcela saga and 84

NARRATnffiSTRUCTURE others). When specific events are highlighted in these introductions, their function is, to reveal ancestral excellence, and to explain why such folk felt compelled to leave Norway and make their way to Iceland. In works such as Egils saga and Gisla saga the Norwegian events tend also to prefigure the main Iceland-based plot, and establish its main elements. We need to distinguish between the beginning of the saga, which simply introduces characters and sets the scene, and the introduction to the plot which tells of events which in some way anticipate the main story, as with the Norwegian episodes in Egils saga, Gisla saga and Vatnsdmla saga, or the account of Grettir A.smundarson's ancestors. Icelandic sagas are known, not to say notorious, for the abundance of genealogical information often to be found in their introductions. Many readers pass hastily over such passages, and some translations omit them altogether. In many sagas the genealogies are so brief that it hardly seems necessary to skip them, and certainly for medieval listeners and readers they will have been of great importance, as indeed they still are for those eager to immerse themselves fully in the saga world. Though the section about the family history of Halli Siguroarson at the opening of Valla-Lj6ts saga is brief-only his father and two grandfathers are named-this information is sufficient to account for Halli's pride and ambition which thereafter lie at the heart of the saga. On his father's side of the family he is descended from the most famous early settler in Svarfaoardalr, whilst on his mother's side he was the great-great-grandson of Helgi the Lean,14 first settler of Eyjafjoror and revered ancestor of all the principal saga chieftains of EY.iafjoror-these include Viga-Glumr and the people of Espiholl in Viga-Glums saga, Guomundr the Powerful and Einarr his brother, who appear in many sagas, and l>orir Helgason who struggles against Guomundr in Lj6svetninga saga. Halli's genealogy helps the reader to understand the source of that character's arrogance and ambition. The EY.iafjororsagas as a whole take on a richer meaning when we pay attention to the ancestry of the principal characters. The hostility directed towards Guomundr the Powerful could well have its origins in the resentment of kinsfolk who regarded themselves as his equals but who were compelled to submit to his power. In many sagas the ancestral lines are traced back to Bjorn Buna,

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a chieftain in Sognefjord in Norway before the settlement of Iceland. These genealogical details are important because they give substance to characters and help to explain their pride of ancestry. "Nearly all the major figures in Iceland are descended from Bjorn", says the Sturlub6k version of Landnamab6k. The same work reveals the importance for Icelanders of being able to trace their roots back to Norwegian chieftains and even to kings. Such knowledge could be used to buttress their self-respect and self-awareness. Ancestral roots also help to explain the origin of confederacies and alliances; yet, for all that, disputes between kinsfolk were remarkably common, according to the sagas. It was often the case during the commonwealth that there were many descendants of the same prominent early settler, and disputes could easily arise over questions of supremacy or other matters between quite close kinsfolk, as can be seen in the sagas of the people of EY.iafjororViga-Glums saga and Lj6svetninga sag(J;-as well as in VapnfirlJinga saga, Laxdcela saga, Njals saga and elsewhere. We may recall that Gunnarr of Hlfoarendi and the mother of his enemy Moror Valgarosson were cousins, as were Bolli and Iqartan. It has been noted that in many sagas ancestral lines are traced back to settlement times even when the family concerned is not that of a saga's principal character, and even when that principal character's own ancestry is not traced as far back (Hume 1973, 596). The most natural explanation for such genealogical interest may be that the author was drawing on traditional knowledge rather than specially created genealogies, though we should not develop a general theory out of occasional instances. We may reasonably suppose that saga genealogies offer a blend of traditional knowledge, conjecture, and authorial creativity. Though certain sagas begin with lengthy genealogies which at times seem to be of little importance, a more usual practice, especially in long sagas with many characters, is to introduce individual figures as and when it seems appropriate in the light of their plot function. Genealogical information may be regarded as part of the introductory rather than core material of the work. Readers may, of course, find it taxing to absorb all this heavy freight of information, and to link it accurately to what has preceded it in the saga. Sometimes, however, the sagas assist the reader by drawing atten86

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tion to particular kinship relationships. Mter a man called Sigmundr has been introduced on his arrival at Hlioarendi, and after his ancestry has been set out, Njals saga adds: "There was close kinship between him [Gunnarr] and Sigmund" (ch. 41). On the other hand HtPnsa-I>oris saga is an example of a short and unified saga all of whose principal characters are introduced and their ancestries outlined right at the outset. In the opening chapter no less than thirty-six characters are mentioned, along with assorted nicknames and place-names. This is, of course, a considerable challenge to anyone trying to master all the details, but readers of this or any saga can turn back in the text and check genealogical details when new characters first appear. Also, in considering the value of saga "genealogies, we should remind ourselves that such details may well have been much appreciated by many people at the time when the sagas were first written down. Of the genealogies of Njals saga Einar Olafur Sveinsson has written, "If they are read aloud and in context, it becomes clear that they serve not only to supply the reader with information, but also to endow the saga with an air of pomp and ceremony" (Einar 01. Sveinsson 1971, 51). Rather more often than it may first seem, genealogies can function artistically, by reinforcing the plot structure and by creating additional resonance in the narrative. Undoubtedly the most important function of the introduction is to establish the impression that a reader or listener will be engaging with a truthful narrative about important people. In this way it sets the tone and, as it were, tunes the receiver. The ending of the saga is sometimes very brief, for by this time all the disputes have been resolved. There is often some reference to the later life of surviving main characters and sometimes, as in Bandamanna saga, to their descendants: "Odd ... was thought an outstanding man. Many important men in Midfjord are descended from him, including Snorri Kalfsson ... And there the saga ends" (ch. 12; v 308). Saga endings are often somewhat more protracted, however, as they outline the later life of several characters. It is usually easy enough to distinguish between what might be termed the end of the plot and the aftermath of the saga, in the sense discussed in this section. For example, the end of the final chapter in Njals saga, can be divided readily into three parts:

87

NARRATIVES AND NARRATIVE ART 1. The resolution of the plot: terms of settlement agreed between the principal adversaries. Flosi was in the main room. He recognised Kari at once andjumped up to meet him and kissed him, and then placed him in a high seat by his side. He invited Kari to stay there for the winter, and Kari accepted. They made a full reconciliation. Flosi then gave to Kari in marriage his brother's daughter, Hildigunn, who had been the wife of Hoskuld the Godi of Hvitanes. 2. Aftermath. They lived at Breida to begin with. People say that the end of Flosi's life came when he had grown old and went abroad to get wood for building a house and spent the winter in Norway. The next summer he was late in getting ready to sail. Men talked about the bad condition of the ship, but Flosi said that it was good enough for an old man doomed to die. He boarded the ship and put out to sea, and nothing was ever heard of the ship again. These were the children of Kari and Helga ~alsdottir: Thorgerd, Ragnheid, Valgerd and Thord who was burnt at Bergthorshvol. The children of Hildigunn and Kari were Starkad and Thord and Flosi. Flosi's son was Kolbein, who was the most distinguished man in that line. 3. Authorial or scribal comment. And here I end the saga of the burning of Njal (ch. 159; iii 219-20).

The distinction between the end of the plot and the end of the saga is by nO means always clear in sagas of a more biographical nature. It may reasonably be said that the final three chapters of Egils saga (chs 85-87) represent the end of the saga. In chapter 85 events confirm that despite his old age and blindness Egill retained his powers both as a warrior and a poet, and the narrative strand which tells of Egill's dealings with his brother and father is completed when he hides the compensation money received for his brother, just as Skalla-Grfmr had once hidden his money before he died. At this point the saga's main character is still a force to be reckoned with, and the plot has not yet run its course-it is 88

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not certain what Egill might still be planning. But at the end of chapter 85 we read of Egill's death and burial; in chapter 86 we are told that his skull had been dug up, and in chapter 87 his descendants are identified. This material clearly represents the end of the saga. We have suggested that it is one of the arts of a skilled narrator to create the appropriate "sense of an ending"-the feeling that the saga has run its course and that there is nothing else left to say (Kermode 1967) .15 Authors of Icelandic sagas are invariably successful in doing this, even though they have one distinctive problem to address: the story is over but history continues. The narrator has earned the attention of listener and reader, and has paraded before them a succession of memorable characters, and a sequence of turbulent events from the past, whilst the end of the saga leads the medieval reader back into the mundane world of his own time and place. Genealogies at the end of a saga underline the sense that we have been dealing with a true story. The saga begins and ends in historical time, in the never-ending process of human events. Saga endings thus perform a double role arising out of the two-fold nature of saga as history and as narrative art; they help us to understand that while the saga, which tells of other people in a by-gone age, may be at an end, history itself, in which we are participants, continues as before. 16 In this as in many other respects the islendingasogurdiffer significantly from many medieval romances and modern novels; the former in particular invariably end with a marriage, an event which in itself is both the end of the story and the beginning of some new and (for the reader) unimportant life for the happy couple. In some novels we may find the story ending with "and they lived happily ever after", but there we may be dealing with irony of a kind not to be found in the endings of the islendingasogur.17

The Story within the Saga-Narrative

Elements and Links

The space between the beginning and ending of a saga is occupied by the actual story. Social harmony is disrupted, hostilities arise and develop, peace-loving and moderate people struggle for su-

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premacy against others dedicated to aggression and vengeance, worthy men intercede and try to broker agreements, conflicts grow ever more complex, men fall in battle or are outlawed. In the end the cycle of violence and vengeance is broken, however, and the surviving combatants are either reconciled or at least lack the necessary strength to prolong their disputes. Saga plots take the form of a sequence of staged interpersonal dealings which may be called scenes, held together by various kinds of linking material. In these co-ordinating sections the narrator provides us with an outline of the events which take place between the principal scenes; he introduces new characters into the saga and may comment on the story. Of particular importance are kernel scenes; these dictate the outcome of events. A set of scenes and connections which centres around a single kernel scene may be called an episode, as in the case of the killing of Arnkell the Chieftain as told in chapter 37 of Eyrbyggja saga. This brief episode consists of six scenes and linking material. The following account of Arnkell's slaying forms the kernel scene: To return to Arnkel, he had recognised the party of men as Snorri the Codi's. He ripped the running-blade from the sled and took it up into the haystack with him. The haystack wall was tall on the outside and the hay was piled up even higher inside, except for at the end inside the wall, which was a good place to fight from. When Snorri and his men arrived at the haystack, it is not mentioned that they exchanged any words. They launched their attack at once, mostly with spears, and Arnkel defended himself with the runningblade. Many of their spear-shafts were broken but Arnkel was not wounded. When they had run out of missiles, Thorleif Kimbi ran towards the haystack and climbed up it with a drawn sword, but Arnkel swung the running-blade at him and Thorleif had to fall down backwards from the haystack to avoid the blow. The blade hit the haystack wall and went over onto the frozen turfs, where it broke at the strap holes, with one half flying out of the haystack. Arnkel had brought his sword and shield up into the haystack, and he took up his weapons now to defend himself, although he was in great danger of being wounded. They came up into the haystack and attacked him, but Arnkel climbed higher up onto the hay, and held his position for a while. But in the end Arnkel was killed, and

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they hid the body under the hay in the haystack. Mter that Snorri and his men went back to Helgafell (ch. 37; v 178).

The most striking and memorable islendingasogur scenes, such as the killing of Arnkell, have helped to form our ideas about saga style and narrative artistry. Such scenes always involve confrontations between individuals or groups and it is often uncertain whether their dealings will prove friendly or otherwise and how matters will be resolved. At the heart of each scene is either a stretch of conversation or some other interaction, often of a violent nature. An exchange of words is usually woven into the action; this serves to animate the scene and to reveal either the ideas behind it or reactions to what is happening. Scenes without speech, in which actions alone do the talking, such as that between Arnkell and his pursuers, are rare. The framework for such scenes is provided by an introduction, an element of scene setting and, usually, some concluding remarks. In the killing of Arnkell scene the framework can be found in the prefatory material, which describes Arnkell's defensive preparations, and in the final sentence which tells of Snorri's return to Helgafell (Clover 1974; Lonnroth 1976, 45-8). Such scenes take their place within a hierarchy of larger structures until the saga is complete. In this respect Eyrbyggja saga is unusually complex. The Arnkell episode is an integral part of a feud story involving Snorri the Chieftain and the people of Alftafjoror, which begins with disputes between 1'6r6lfr, Arnkell's father, and his neighbours; there are further conflicts between the chieftains (the Mavahlio affair and the conflict following the death ofVigfuss Bjarnarson of Drapuhlio). The disputes between Snorri and Arnkell thus represent one strand in the saga. The episode of Arnkell's killing, which brings to a violent end his dispute with Snorri, is followed by linking material-an authorial postscript describing repercussions of the killing. A new episode then begins, leading on directly from this: it tells of the overseas journey of 1'orleifr Kimbi, undertaken in accordance with the settlement reached after the killing, and of the fresh troubles which break out during that journey. With sagas of complex structure, such as Eyrbyggja saga, in which

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many distinct stories or episodes take place simultaneously, those strands are usually woven together so that another one begins before an earlier one has finished (Clover 1982, 61-91). Sagas constructed in this way can seem confusing or make great demands on the recollective capacities of listeners or readers; yet the overall effect is to create a strongly unified work which does not unravel into independent tales. There are, however, examples of sagas in which independent strands are not interlaced. In the so-called C version of Lj6svetninga saga we find independent tales, and scholars have debated whether these sections might have been omitted from the other version of the saga by a scribe anxious to promote a sense of the. work's unity, or whether they may have been added to the C version by a scribe eager to include every scrap of material relating to any of the saga characters. Such composition by accretion can certainly make a saga seem structurally very diffuse. A good example of interlinked narrative elements is the account of Grettir's life between his two overseas journeys. Mter he returns home from the first of these, he resumes an old quarrel (AI) with a man called Auounn, and this leads directly to dealings with Baroi Guomundarson (A2). We then learn of a horse-fight; Grettir lands in trouble; and this leads to enmity with I>orbjorn the Traveller and his friend I>orbjorn Ox (B1). The dealings between Grettir and Baroi Guomundarson reappear (A3). The story is then told of the ghostly hauntings which lead to the killing of Glamr by Grettir but only after the ghost forecasts a grim future for the hero and casts an evil spell (Cl). Grettir then kills I>orbjorn the Traveller (B2) and goes abroad once more, where he is responsible for an accidental killing which nevertheless results in his being outlawed (Dl but connected to C). While he is abroad I>orbjorn Ox kills Grettir's brother Atli (B3); after Grettir returns to Iceland he kills I>orbjorn and his son (B4). All these events are linked by Grettir's participation, except for the killing of his brother Atli, and they are narrated in chronological order. In the central section of Eyrbyggja saga each strand is intertwined with every other; the events may seem unconnected, but Snorri the chieftain serves to link each strand as the conflicts develop. As the saga nears its conclusion, however, we find tales about the wonders at Fr60a and 92

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about the outlaws at Strandir; these stories are loosely linked to the main plot, and the saga's structure is weakened as a result.IS When switching from one conflict strand to another, the authors often employ formulaic phrases to mark the break, or when they introduce new characters into the saga at the beginning of an episode. With a change of setting or at the start of a new episode, we read that "Now the saga turns ... " or "Now we must speak of ... ". The adverb "now" figures prominently in changes of scene, especially in Njdls saga. Reference is quite often made in sagas to the overlapping of events. So it is that Grettis saga draws attention to an earlier strand being taken up again at the beginning of chapter 36: "In the autumn when Grettir went north to Vatnsdal, Thorbjorn Ox held a great feast which many people attended". In chapter 42, after unrelated events in Grettis saga have been developed for a time, we read: "To return to the killing of Thorbjorn Traveller, Thorbjorn Ox heard about it, as described earlier. He flew into a rage at the news and said many.people had scores to settle."19

Patterns of Action We noted earlier that the islendingasogur are not as fixed in their form as fairy-tales have been shown to be by Vladimir Propp's analysis of their narrative structure; Propp's theories have subsequently been used in a variety of waysby scholars (Propp 1968). An attempt has been made to identify a recurrent narrative pattern in the islendingasogur, by dividing each saga into a fixed number of segments, depending on how the conflicts develop: 1. Introduction, 2. Conflict, 3. Climax, 4. Revenge, 4b. Counterrevenge, 5. Reconciliation, 6. Mtermath (Andersson 1967). This structure is, however, rather too rough and ready to be fully satisfactory in analysing the islendingasogur, and in the case of some sagas it seems almost wholly inapplicable. Nevertheless the theory is not without merit, though it is perhaps better suited for analysing particular sections of individual sagas than for treating whole works. The feud pattern can recur many times in the same saga as we trace the details of many unconnected feuds.20 Introductions 93

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and saga endings, however, fall outside such an analytic framework, and the same may be said about various journeys and sections whose principal function is to provide information for the listener or reader. Another way of analysing feuds is to examine their minimal constituent elements (Byock 1982, 47-142). It is possible to show, firstly, that each feud story can be divided into conflicts and searches for reconciliation which follow certain fixed rules, and secondly, that solutions are always found, some of them lasting ones and others all too temporary. These basic elements appear repeatedly in feud narratives, albeit not alwaysin the same order.21 Though it is possible to analyse the formal structure of plots narrated in the islendingasogur in terms of notions such as feudemes, feud patterns or travel patterns, these schemes can never account for every element in the text, and hence for the saga as a whole. The crude simplifications which arise when narrative is described in such terms (the terminology resembles that used in grammatical analysis) can help to define the broad characteristics of particular groups of sagas, but are of little avail in identifying the distinctive artistry of individual sagas. We have already noted the beginnings and endings of sagas which lie outside the saga plot, along with various authorial observations which are introduced into the narrative. We have also noted the material which may be said to function outside the plot-prophecies, dreams, and other indications of the future which at the same time point towards supernatural forces.22 All these elements contribute to the composite meaning of the saga and can point to interpretative possibilities. However, in the act of narration itself there arises a meaning which passes between the narrator and the reader or listener, and which it is not possible to grasp through plot summary or analysis of a saga's constituent elements. We need now to turn to the manner of narration and to saga style in order to examine how the act of narration determines our understanding of the islendingasogur.

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Telling the Tale

Time in the Saga The islendingasogur deal for the most part with disputes within an agrarian community. At first sight these conflicts can seem barbaric, complicated, long-winded, and far removed from the problems and concerns of our contemporary world. Why, then, are people so attracted to such narratives today, a thousand years after the events described are supposed to have happened, and seven hundred years after the sagas which tell of these events were first composed? We need now to consider how narrators organise their narratives, how they create something rich and memorable out of their raw narrative material. At the same time may we not also indirectly be examining ourselves as readers, and our reactions to the techniques and artistry of the author? Though sagas are told in a simple enough way,the narrator has at his disposal many kinds of techniques for arousing reader and listener expectation. Valla-Lj6ts saga is an example of a very straightforward narrative which is nevertheless sufficiently complex to awaken our curiosity as to how events will unfold. Our first introduction to Halli Siguroarson suggests strongly that his life will be full of incident in the new settlement in Svarfaoardalr after he moves his homestead there. His attempt to humiliate Valla-Lj6tr leads us to wonder whether Lj6tr will tolerate being dominated by Halli; and Lj6tr is described in a way which suggests that there are limits to his tolerance and that conflict between the two men is inevitable. There is always doubt as to whether settlements and reconciliations will prove long lasting. Good sagas are told in such a way that they arouse suspicions, curiosities and expectations. In order to achieve this influence over listeners and readers, the author uses methods created and hallowed by tradition. Many of

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these narrative devices relate in some degree to the operation of time in a saga. The beginnings of islendingasiigur frequently involve setting the particular work in the context of historically objective time, even though people would hardly have understood the concept in the same mechanistic way that we now do in the age of the wristwatch and diary.23 This contextualisation is achieved by references to reigning Norwegian kings, prominent Icelanders, the settlement of Iceland, or its subsequent Christianisation: "This saga begins during the reign of King Harald of Norway" (Svarfdcela saga ch. 1; iv 149). Most sagas display a reasonable grasp of "inner" time, that is the period within which the events of the saga take place as expressed by the passing of the seasons. Many brief temporal phrases link events and establish the saga's internal chronological order: "in that summer", "the following spring", "that same autumn"; "Karl set out trading in various lands and spent three winters in this activity" (Svarfdcela saga ch. 27; iv 190); "and now the summer passes and the winter nights arrive", "It is said that Gisli spent three years at ... " (Gisla saga ch. 21; ii 26); "One summer when Egil had been at Borg for many years ... " (Egils saga ch. 57; i 104). Though it is clear that sagas deal with events which took place long ago every possible attempt seems to be made to present them in their proper chronological order. Unlike the narrators of novels and chivalric sagas, islendingasiigurnarrators never state in advance what will happen later, and never describe the same events more than once. In the most straightforward works, such as Valla-Ljats saga, the whole text is dedicated to the delineation of a simple sequence of events in the correct chronological order, and this helps to ensure that the story itself is clear and that its context is easy to follow. In the final chapter of Valla-Ljats saga, however, two stories proceed side by side-one at the Thing, and the other in the home district. This is expressed simply: Hrolfwas at home during the Thing when the case wasdecided ... So it went, and they succeeded well in reaching an agreement. Bjorn was on the island [Grfmsey] safe and sound with Thrand. One day while the Thing wasin progress Bjorn waseager to go out 96

TELLING THE TALE rowing with Thrand ... so Thrand and Hrolf parted company. Ljot came home from the Thing and he and Bjorn met together and spoke of all that had gone on (ch. 9; iv 145-47).

Other saga plots are a good deal more complicated than that of Valla-Lj6ts saga, and many events are narrated which must have been happening simultaneously. The narrators tend to interlink such events and present them as if the work's structure were governed for the most part by event chronology (Clover 1982, 10935). In some places the narrator anticipates events-at other times they are viewed retrospectively, so that the reader has the sense of being omniscient. Nevertheless, anticipatory references are never of the sort which involve the narrator describing some future event as if it has already happened. Such references for the most part take the form of warnings, incitements, dreams, prophecies and other more overtly supernatural events. The dream of Viga-Glumr has already been referred to. Such dreams sometimes occur at the beginning of a saga or section. Gunnlaugs saga ormstungu begins with the symbolic dream of I>orsteinn Egilsson, in which he anticipates the main events of the saga-two eagles fight over a swan on the roof of his homestead; each kills the other, and the swan flies off with a falcon. The dream is then interpreted with such precision that the reader has some inkling of the likely course of events over the rest of the saga. Also well known are the dreams of Guorun Osvifrsd6ttir in Laxdtela saga, in which she sees four artifacts, of differing worth, which she comes first to own and then to lose in a variety of ways. Gestr Oddleifsson explains that the dreams portend her four marriages, and the events of the saga prove him right. It is more usual, however, for people to dream or to have fleeting visions just before major events take place. Gunnarr of Hlioarendi dreams of the fight at Knafah6lar immediately before it happens. In HeilJarviga saga I>orbjorn Brunason sees sights predicting his fate while seated at the breakfast table, and as things turn out his days-indeed his hours-are numbered. Njall has similar visions on the day of the burning, an event which is anticipated in many portents and prophecies. Other important incidents in the saga are similarly prepared for, as when Gunnarr of Hlioarendi's spear sings out as

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the battle draws near.24 Related to these are the prophecies of prescient individuals such as Gestr Oddleifsson and Njall at Bergp6rshvall. Though such events are alwayssignificant, they produce a quite different effect on the reader than would be the case if that same reader were informed unequivocally in advance about the future course of events. Prophecy and prediction create anticipation, prepare the reader for the events to come, but do not overdirect or over-inform-they rather prompt the feeling that the plot is being driven by uncontrollable forces and that the outcome of events is inevitable. Of a somewhat different nature are the anticipatory and retrospective references which appear in saga conversations. These either give expression to characters' memories of and feelings towards past events, or refer forward in time through reasonable and well-informed conjecture. Particularly striking is the detailed prediction made by I>6rarinn of Lzekjam6t in Heioarviga saga as to the likely outcome for Baroi and his companions of their Borgarfjoror ride, though I>6rarinn's words almost amount to inspired prophecy. A good example of a conversation with deep roots in the past but which also points to the future without involving any discernible supernatural element is the final exchange between Gunnarr and Hallgeror in Njdls saga: Gunnar spoke to Hallgerd: "Give me two locks of your hair, and you and my mother twist them into a bowstring for me." "Does anything depend on it?" she said. "My life depends on it," he said, "for they'll never be able to get me as long as I can use my bow." "Then I'll remind you," she said, "of the slap on my face, and I don't care whether you hold out for a long or a short time." "Everyone has some mark of distinction," said Gunnar, " and I won't ask you again." Rannveig spoke: "You are evil, and your shame will live long" (ch. 77; iii 89-90).

The episode reveals the emotional conflict of characters at a fateful moment; the feelings derive from the past and the events have implications for the future. We may note first Gunnarr's energy and will to live; he can foresee the alternative fates which await 98

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him, depending on whether or not he is able to defend himself with his bow; we then observe how he retains his pride when his request is denied. Set against this, Hallgeror's thirst for revenge is roused as, recalling the blows which her pride had suffered at Gunnarr's hands, she refuses to come to his aid and hints at his eventual downfall. Her words also recall, firstly, the slaps which she received from each of her first two husbands and, secondly, their subsequent deaths. Rannveig's judgement is stern and points into the more distant future-indeed to a future outside the framework of saga time, for the saga's readers down the centuries have been severe in their judgement of Hallgeror. This same exchange also recalls the conversation in the opening chapter of the saga between Hrutr and Hoskuldr about Hallgeror's thief's eyes, and Njall's subsequent prophecy: "All kinds of trouble will arise from her if she comes east" (ch. 33; iii 38). We have seen, then, that saga writers do not try to play tricks with or falsify time, as is often the case with novelists; instead they are content to follow the chronological flow of events in the saga. This willingness is in line with their efforts to write a story about the past, a story which in some sense is true. Because their sense of what constitutes a true story differs from that of the present-day academic historian, they felt able to make use of elements such as supernatural powers and fate to help strengthen saga structure and to create a dense and taut narrative texture. Such techniques are in evidence in narrative art right up to the present day, and not only in novels; omens of one sort or another are by no means uncommon in autobiographical and in popular historical writing. However, the origins of a key saga event always lie in the past; and that same event also helps to mark out the future as one deed leads inexorably to another, and as men's actions are driven by emotions triggered by those earlier events.

Rhythm Even though events in the islendingasogur are usually narrated in a waywhich corresponds as closely as possible to chronological time, this is not to imply that saga time is managed in an unimaginative

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or mechanical way. On the contrary, whether consciously or unconsciously, it is one of the most powerful rhetorical devices of saga narrators. The rhythm of each Icelandic saga, as indeed of other narratives, is a function of how rapidly the story is told and how established speeds are manipulated. The summaries of events which are provided between major scenes are generally dealt with rapidly and provide only that information necessary for the development of the saga. However, tension can be heightened and crucial scenes prepared for by retarding and enriching the narrative through a particularly detailed description of events. As in the account of Arnkell's death (see above, pp. 90-91), some narrative moments are lingered over in great detail whilst others are summarily treated. This sense of retardation is often achieved by splitting narrative attention between the actions of the rival groups or individuals who shortly afterwards are to confront each other in a decisive scene. A good deal of scholarly attention has been devoted to the treatment of time in sagas, but in the islendingasogur its management is fundamentally very similar to that in other narrative literature (van den Toorn 1958 and 1961; Andersson 1967,40-43,54-60; R6hn 1976). islendingasogur can, however, be distinguished from the great majority of novels as regards the period of time covered from the beginning of a saga to its end. There is also considerable variation from saga to saga in this respect. Whilst E.gils saga, Laxdcela saga, Lj6svetninga saga and Vatnsdcelasaga extend over a century and more, Hcensa-P6ris saga or Bandamanna saga span only a few years. Other sagas lie between these two extremes. Some of the kinds of time manipulation which are found in other types of narrative, whether in words or pictures, are alien to the narrative art of the islendingasogur. This is certainly the case with the use of flashbacks. Though past events are referred to, especially when new characters are introduced into the saga, plots are never developed through flashbacks, not even in the form of a saga character's speech as we find in the Odyssey. In the islendingasogur it is the narrator alone who narrates.

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Narrator and Narrative The narrative method of islendingasogur is marked by its formal objectivity and discretion; the narrator appears to view with an unprejudiced eye the unfolding events, explaining what happens, and reporting the words of men as if they had just been spoken. Sparing in his use of rhetorical language, the narrator is more inclined to understatement than to exaggeration. He adopts the same tone of voice whether major or minor events are being described, and whether he chooses to focus on or digress from the plot. This measured narrative approach serves often to create a powerful contrast with the fateful events being described, and contributes richly to the impact of the stories. A good example of this narrative neutrality when dealing with events of great moment is the account of the killing of Arnkell the chieftain which has already been examined. It has the objective manner of an official report, and gives no hint as to the state of mind of Arnkell or of Snorri the Chieftain and his men, not to mention the narrator's own view of the events. The final sentence draws a curt line under what has happened in the scene. Though the narrator gives no hint of his own attitude towards what is taking place, there is little doubt that the reader's sympathy is entirely with Arnkell during the scene. This, of course, is no coincidence but is rather a function of how the story is told, the elements which are highlighted, and the retardations and accelerations which the plot undergoes. The density of detail used in narrating the defence of Arnkell-witness the importance of the damaged running-blade from the sled-may seem remarkable; thereafter it is as if the narrator loses all interest in such small scale effects, and the end of the fight is described in very general terms. The reason for this is, doubtless, that Arnkell's defensive resourcefulness is a revealing guide to his courage and alertness, and that his foes would hardly have been able to overcome him had the running-blade not been damaged in the fight. The later stages of the conflict are more straightforward, however, because no single individual can hold out indefinitely against many. The narrator describes the unusual features of the battle but allows the listener or reader to fill in the gaps and silences, and to judge the defence

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of Arnkell, the progress of the attackers, and the eventual outcome. Indeed it is not just the narrator of the saga who conceals himself behind the narrative events; the characters themselves are silent throughout. Yet the reader is not concerned about the absence of conversation. The reasons for the attack are perfectly clear, and there is no need to givevoice to the thoughts of pursuers or pursued; in naturalistic terms, neither Arnkell nor Snorri is likely to waste words in such circumstances. Arnkell has already given verbal evidence of his courage in talking with his slaves immediately before Snorri's attack. When he learns that the assault is imminent, and when the slave who informs him urges that they should retreat to the farm, where more people could come to his defence, Arnkell says: "I think the best policy here is for each of us to do whatever he thinks best," said Arnkel. "You should run home and wake up my supporters, who will get here quickly. The haystack is a good place to fight from, and I will defend myself from here if these men are hostile, because that seems better to me than running away. 1 will not weaken quickly. My men will arrive quickly to support me if you carry out your mission honourably" (ch. 37; v 177).

Matters duly progressed as Arnkell's words hinted that they would. The slaves behave like cowards, while Arnkell responds like a hero. He dismisses those men who are reluctant to fight, and who as slaves are under no obligation to do so, but Arnkell himself has no wish to flee. In this wayboth his own words and the slaves' reaction underline the heroism of his last stand. In addition the scene serves to heighten narrative tension: will the additional forces appear soon enough and be of sufficient strength to save the hero in his hour of need? An attentive reader of Eyrbyggja saga will note that the events narrated in this episode are entirely consistent with the descriptions of the characters from earlier in the saga. Arnkell defends himself heroically, and Snorri the Chieftain takes no risk when attacking him with a powerful force. Snorri's behaviour is not described, and he is driven neither by heroism nor by vengeance,

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but rather by the necessity of fighting a battle for power and authority. I>orleifr Kimbi is the most daring of the attackers and this, too, matches his earlier description. The reader need be in no doubt as to the importance of the events which are so laconically narrated. The end of the conflict marks Snorri the Chieftain's victory after a prolonged power struggle. He has seen off a rival who was particularly dangerous because he lived so near to himArnkell's estate lay between Snorri and Snorri's closest associates, the Nftafjoror men. The saga does not rid itself of Arnkell by describing his death, however, and such would have not been consistent with the important role which he has played in the saga, and the narrative attention paid to him before the battle. Firstly, lines are cited from a poem about Snorri; these tell of Arnkell's fall, and of Snorri's boldness in battle, an attribute not revealed in Eyrbyggja saga. This verse functions like those in the kings' sagas-it offers confirmation that the events described did indeed take place. Secondly, we hear about Arnkell's slave, who forgets to deliver his vital message, only to remember when it is too late; men then set off for the scene of the fight, find Arnkell dead, and bury him with all due honour. Finally, we find a kind of epitaph about Arnkell: ... [Arnkell] was mourned by everyone because he had been the most accomplished of all men in ancient times. He was the wisest of them all, even-tempered, stout-hearted, braver than anyone else, determined, and very moderate. He always came out best in lawsuits, no matter who his adversary was. He was envied because of this, as the final events of his life show (ch. 37; v 178-79).

The narrator at this point emerges from the shadows and his voice suddenly becomes more personal, even though the verdict on Arnkell should be taken as representing a commonly acknowledged truth. The praise of Arnkell is expressed with unusual force; there are parallels in several other sagas, but nowhere else in E.)rbyggja saga. Indeed there is rather more praise of Arnkell than is justified by the saga, even though he is presented there as a thoroughly worthy figure. We may also note that no attempt is made to lend a greater sense of objectivity to the narrator's tribute

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by attributing its sentiments to common opmlOn, even though such attributions are common in sagas. The Arnkell tribute is not included in all the Eyrbyggja saga manuscripts, however, and it may be that we are dealing with a scribe who was much affected by Arnkell's noble life and heroic final moments, and felt impelled to supply the passage. These examples from Eyrbyggja saga show two characteristic elements in islendingasogur narrative: firstly, in a typically memorable passage, the account of the death of Arnkell; and, secondly, the thoughts and other information supplied by the narrator which help the reader to interpret an otherwise bare narrative. The Arnkell epitaph might well be a scribal interpolation, but such a verdict on a hero's life is not unique in the islendingasogur, and it would be wrong to ascribe interpolated status to any saga passage which does not accord with our own notions of classical style in saga narrative. There are tributes to fallen heroes in other sagas, as well as unequivocal expressions of praise at other moments in their lives.25 In Laxdmla saga (which is probably older than Eyrbyggja saga) we find detailed and very complimentary descriptions of Olafr Peacock and his son "Iqartan, more strongly worded even than the Arnkell passage, whilst in Njrils saga no words of praise are spared in the characterisations of Gunnarr and Njall. There is no reason to believe that these passages are interpolations; they seem fully consistent with the narrative style and conceptual world of these sagas. The Arnkell necrologue seems less in harmony with a saga whose narrative voice is neutral at all times, but any perceived breach of stylistic consistency could in fact be the reason for a later scribe omitting the passage. There is simply no way of knowing for certain whether we are dealing with interpolation or omission. Despite the special status of these judgements about men we must remember that they are normally presented as commonly accepted truth rather than the special pleading of an individual. Different from such verdicts on saga heroes are those rare passages in which a narrator suddenly begins directly to address the reader, who is situated outside the saga, about some aspect of the saga's narrative material, or even about unrelated issues. We find this in the brief explanatory chapter which follows the Arnkell

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tribute, where we learn that his death had few repercussions, because all his legal heirs were women: "the leading men of the land made a law that a woman or a young man under the age of sixteen could never prosecute a manslaughter case, and this has been the law ever since" (ch. 38; v 179). In this instance the narrator switches suddenly from the plot and addresses his contemporaries about issues and events of common interest after the period covered by the saga. Such comments are few and far between, however, and are to be found in just a handful of sagas.26 They represent exceptions to the rule that narrators never jump forward in time and never discuss anything other than the saga material itself. Similar breaches of the narrative frame can be found in the various descriptions at the beginning and end of sagas which cannot be regarded as integral to the story itself. On such occasions the narrator talks directly to and even about the age in which he himself is living. In F6stbrcelJra saga we can find some very unusual, indeed unparalleled, instances of an obtrusive narrator's thoughts unrelated to the basic saga material. Known as klausur [digressions], these have long been regarded as scribal interpolations. Manuscript research has, however, pointed to a different explanation. Many of these passages seem to have been part of the original saga text. Though the manuscript which has fewest of them, the early thirteenth-century Hauksb6k, is the oldest extant text of this saga, the shortened text in this manuscript represents in fact a conscious attempt to produce a terser and more "classical" version of a more verbose original Qanas Kristjansson 1972, 80) .27 The style of F6stbrcelJra saga is peculiar, partly because in his digressions the narrator departs from his story and discusses unrelated matters, and partly because the style of the digressions is highly figurative and emotional and in many places quite unlike what has long been thought of as conventional saga style. Some passages draw attention to themselves solely because of their florid style. These passages can sometimes be seen as an attempt to interpret the story being told, and this creates a distance or irony that is foreign to the style of the islendingasogur. An example of figurative language which differs strikingly from

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conventional saga style, even though the passage remains within the saga's narrative framework, can be found early in the saga when the foster-brothers journey around the Westfjords: "The daughters of the sea-goddess, Ran, tried to embrace them" (ch. 3; ii 337), says the saga of their experiences at sea, and the weather does not improve after they land: "The storm blustered through the freezing night. The wind, like a wild cur, howled constantly and with relentless force the whole night long, and gnawed at the ground with its cold and savage jaws" (ch. 4; ii 337). Battles are often described in similarly elaborate terms: "Then Thorgeir turned to Snorri's farmhands and attacked them with great agility, defending himself with his shield and striking at them with the axe that had bid many a man goodnight" (ch. 17; ii 357). In the account ofl>orgeirr's last stand, the author moves right outside the framework of the saga and introduces his own knowledge: All who knew how valiantly he had fought praised the stand he made, and they all said the same of his brave defence. None thought his equal had ever been found. Thorgeir struck hard and fast with great power, his courage never wavering-and this courage wasboth his shield and his armour. No man wasknown to have put up such a fight as he. It was the Almighty who touched Thorgeir's heart and put such fearlessness into his breast, and thus his courage was neither inborn nor of humankind but came from the Creator on high (ch. 17; ii 367-68). There are other examples in the saga which stray still further from the main narrative but they will not be discussed further at this point.

Point of View and Focalisation Though the narrator in the islendingasogur always situates himself outside the plot and narrates in the third person, attention is often directed to a particular character, just as events, either directly or indirectly, are also viewed from that same character's perspective. The attention paid to an individual character has an effect on

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listeners or readers without their always being aware of it. Very often the result of such attention is to create sympathy for and identification with a character, unless his presentation (in words and deeds) has been very negative. It is, of course, not at all certain that a listener or reader would view a character unsympathetically even if his or her actions were far from admirable. From the first occasion on which Egill Skalla-Grimsson appears in his saga he is accorded a great deal more attention than other characters, and there are detailed descriptions of his deeds, even those of his childhood. Egill is unconventional, and his actions are described with an element of humour. He performs various appalling deeds, as when he kills a play fellow at the age of six, and an innocent work supervisor at the age of twelve. He remains the same uncompromisingly violent character throughout the saga. Yet the narrative method tempers the reader's astonishment and mutes his hostility. Invariably the reasons for Egill's anger are described in detail, and the reader senses and sympathises with Egill's belief that his violent reactions had just cause. Few readers have sympathised with Egill's victims. The saga is narrated in so neutral a way that we are offered no alternative moral standpoint which could challenge or contradict Egill's own sense of his deeds and grievances. We ought not to conclude from this that the author of the saga or his contemporaries sympathised with the brutal morality of Egill the viking, but it would be equally wrong to apply some modern moral standard to what takes place. The saga's narrative art makes it possible for us to share Egill's point of view, and in this way he is made to seem a more substantial and intriguing figure. The islendingasogur narrator does not speak of things yet to come, though he must logically know what follows, and in many other ways he exploits his right to withhold information from the listener and reader in order to intensify the drama of his narrative. The narrative point of view is frequently limited to that of a single individual. A particularly striking example is the account in Gisla saga of the night-time killings at Hall and S.ebal. The killing of Vesteinn is described from the point of view of the household at Hall:

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Just before daybreak, someone entered the house silently and walked over to where Vestein was lying. He was already awake but before he knew what was happening, a spear was thrust at him and went right through his breast. As Vestein took the blow, he spoke: "Struck there," he said. Then the man left. Vestein tried to stand up, but as he did so he fell down beside the bedpost, dead (ch. 13; ii 14).

In this instance so deftly is the scene narrated that, many centuries after the saga was first written, people still debate whose hand held the spear which killed Vesteinn.28 When Gisli goes at night to Szeb61 to kill his brother-in-law l>orgrimr, the incident is mostly viewed from Gisli's perspective, and the reader is conscious of the dark and of the people sleeping all around in the hall. In this instance, however, nothing important is concealed from the reader, and the narrator allows himself to switch momentarily from Gisli's viewpoint: There were lights burning in three places in the house. He picked up some rushes from the floor, stranded them together, then threw them at one of the lights. It went out. He waited to see whether this had woken anyone and discovered that it had not. Then he picked up another bundle of rushes and threw it at the next light, putting that out too. Then he noticed that not everyone was asleep. He saw the hand of a young man reach for the third light, take down the lamp-holder and snuff the flame. He walked farther into the house and up to the bed closet where his sister, Thordis, and Thorgrim slept. The door was pulled to, and they were both in bed. He went to the bed, groped about inside and touched his sister's breast. She was sleeping on the near side. Then Thordis said: "Why is your hand so cold, Thorgrim?" and thereby woke him up. Thorgrim replied: "Do you want me to turn towards you?" She thought it had been his hand that touched her. Gisli waited a little longer, warming his hand inside his tunic, while the couple fell asleep again. Then he touched Thorgrim lightly, waking him. Thorgrim thought that Thordis had roused him and he turned towards her (ch. 16; ii 19).

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age listeners to supply the missing elements-the technique is an important and artfully deployed feature in Fcereyingasaga, which is thought to have been composed before or around 1220,29and in Morkinskinna and Heimskringla. Egils saga offers examples, firstly, of the narrator seeming not to know about events for which there were no witnesses and, secondly, of his entering the mind of the chief protagonist. The events leading up to Egill's fight with Lj6tr the Pale are narrated as follows: Egil stood up, thanked the farmer and his mother for what they had provided and went outside. Fridgeir and Gyda accompanied them on their way, until she took her son aside and whispered something to him. While he stood and waited, Egil asked the girl, "What are you crying about? 1 have never seen you happy for a moment." Unable to answer, she cried all the more. Fridgeir answered his mother in a loud voice, "I don't want to ask them to do that. They're ready to leave now" (ch. 65; i 128).

Here the author limits his point of view to what Egill himself sees and hears. We never discover what he is thinking, and all the important information is revealed through what he actually says. When, on the other hand, Egill is wondering whether he should go to York to meet King Eirfkr or to seek help from his friend King Aoalsteinn of England, the author does not bother to create an interlocutor for Egill but prefers instead to offer us a direct insight into the protagonist's mind: After he had found out all this news, Egil made his plans. He did not feel he had much chance of getting away even if he were to try to keep hidden and under cover all the way back out of Eirik's kingdom. Anyone who saw him would recognise him. Considering it belittling to be caught fleeing like that, he steeled himself and decided the very night that they arrived to get a horse and ride to York (ch. 60; i 116).

Such deviations from the normal narratorial objectivity are interesting more for their unobtrusive neatness, with the narrator's voice never losing its familiar laconic coolness, than for the fact 109

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that they are attempted in a saga. Such glimpses into the minds of characters are a familiar feature of all kinds of narrative. It is an entirely modern notion, even now honoured more in the breach than the observance, to expect perfect consistency of narratorial viewpoint.

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Vocabulary and Style The style of the islendingasogur is usually very straightforward. Vocabulary is commonplace and concrete, and sentences are short and simple. Latinate vocabulary and syntax are rarely used, and elaborate stylistic features are few and far between. The narrative style is terse with little attempt to amplifY through repetition or use of climax, or to delineate or embellish phenomena by means of elaborate description ... Finally it may be said that the narrative is realistic, its imagery simple, and it is rarely the case that words are used in indirect or abstract senses. (I>orleifur Hauksson and I>6rir Oskarsson 1994,274-75)

A saga is created from words, and the most important parts of speech are nouns and verbs. Something is said about someone: "There was a man named Mord, whose nickname was Gigja [FiddIe]. He was the son of Sighvat the Red, and he lived at Voll in the Rangarvellir district" (Njrils saga ch. 1; iii 1). As we have noted, the narratives of the islendingasogur confine themselves, for the most part, to particular actions or categories of action, or to particular phenomena which have been regarded as historical. A modern author might try to find a way of compensating for such lack of narrative variety by making use of elaborate diction. Such measures are indeed not unknown amongst Icelandic writers in the saga age. Norse and Icelandic skalds use the most basic narrative material but find almost limitless variety at the level of verbal expression, employing many different terms for each phenomenon, and complex periphrases for further elaboration.3D Stylistically the islendingasogur work in exactly the opposite way. For the most part the authors make constant use of the same vocabulary and phrases to describe the same phenomena, and try not to use more words than are absolutely necessary. The corollary of this is III

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that their vocabulary is relatively small, much more limited than that in common use in modern novels,31 and it frequently bears the mark of formulaic construction, particularly in linking sections, in the introduction of characters, and at the beginning and end of scenes and episodes. Character descriptions themselves often have a formulaic element to them, but they are sometimes prolix and in some instances bear the marks of classical rhetoricthis is certainly the case with LaxdlPla saga and Njrils saga (l>orleifur Hauksson and l>6rir Oskarsson 1994, 274-75). It is also the case that some of the younger sagas are amongst the most verbally rich, notably Grettis saga which has a larger vocabulary than any of the other islendingasogur (Orn6lfur Thorsson 1993, 33-9). As a rule word order and syntax are relatively uncomplicated and resemble everyday speech. One noteworthy stylistic feature is the frequent inversion of elements within the sentence, such as the positioning of the predicate before the subject. We may note also the frequent oscillation between present and past tenses, with authors eager to exploit the historical or dramatic present mode: this is still a common feature in modern Icelandic narrative. Though Icelandic saga narrative is for the most part straightforward and without elaboration in its depiction of events, there are early sagas which include detailed descriptions of individual characters' clothing and equipment, not least when great events are in the offing. The roots of this descriptive mode can probably be traced back to the chivalric sagas; there are traces in ~gils saga but it also figures prominently in LaxdlPla saga. In Njrils saga, which is younger than either of these works, there are further instances of such descriptions, and also of loan words which probably derive from the same romance sources. Clearly the extent to which sagas are open to such influences depends on the nature of the narrative material. This is certainly the case with the concluding section of Grettis saga, the story of Spes in Byzantium. This tale differs in several stylistic respects from the main part of the saga, perhaps owing to the influence of French romance literature translated into Icelandic. Viglundar saga, a late saga of romantic love, also bears the stylistic marks of the chivalric sagas (l>orleifur Hauksson and l>6rir Oskarsson 1994, 286-89); and Grettis saga contains many

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words which are not to be found elsewhere in the saga corpus, many loan words amongst them (Orn6lfur Thorsson 1993,57-73). The proportion of direct speech is relatively high in the islendingasogur compared with other narratives; it amounts on average to some 30% of the overall corpus (though obviously proportions vary considerably from saga to saga), compared with just 19% in the kings' sagas.32 Nevertheless saga speech and conversation are not naturalistic and, in fact, characters seem relatively taciturn in the context of the richness of saga incident which surrounds them. As will be apparent from extracts already cited, one of the most important functions of conversation in sagas is to animate characters, to allow them to reveal something of themselves by expressing their thoughts to friend and foe alike. Characters can also interpret events in their own words, and refer to previous incidents which are still on their mind, as with Hallgeror in her conversation with Gunnarr (see above pp. 98-9; Burling 1983, 21-122). Individual remarks can often be memorable in their chiselled spareness of expression, but characters are defined more by the substance of their speeches than the style. Nearly all characters with something significant to say seem capable of expressing themselves in short and well crafted sentences. It is, however, by comparing deeds-or the motives behind those deeds-with words that the differences between men become clear. We may generally expect the speech of heroes to be marked by moderation and understatement, whereas that of comic characters is often exaggerated and inflated. There are exceptions to this rule, however. Skarpheoinn's speeches are usually sarcastic and characterised by understatement, but in his flytings with the chieftains at the Althing after the killing of Hoskuldr he expresses himself forcefully and pointedly. Gunnarr of Hlioarendi overrides his characteristic verbal restraint in two famous remarks in which he opens his heart more than is customary for a hero; firstly,when he ponders his reluctance to kill other people and, secondly, when he reflects on the beauty of his home fields as exile beckons. A religious colouring can be detected in Njall's tender words as he grieves at the death of his foster-son Hoskuldr, and especially in his speech at the Althing:

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"I want you to know that 1 loved Hoskuld more than my own sons, and when 1heard that he had been slain 1felt that the sweetestlight of my eyes had been put out, and 1 would rather have lost all my sons to have him live" (ch. 122; iii 146). Unrestrained emotion of this kind is discernible in a few other places in Njdls saga, but it is unusual and unquestionably reflects the influence of religious literature. Far more natural to saga discourse is the bleak objectivity, or appearance of objectivity, and the ever-present sense of laconic understatement which represents such a contrast to the turbulent subject matter of sagas that it encourages the reader to investigate the silences, and assign to words and deeds a deeper meaning than they seem at first sight to possess. Inconsistency, which many modern readers regard as a fault of saga style, is frequently to be found in the islendingasogur, and this prompts us to reflect on the origins of our modern sense of "classical" or "pure" saga style. When we compare one of the oldest saga manuscript fragments with a fourteenth-century vellum such as MOOruvallab6k, or with texts of the same sagas in even later manuscripts, there are often indications that the style of these later texts has been refined, and corresponds to what has often been regarded as classical saga style. The textual changes in F6stbrtPOra saga which were noted above offer support for this claim. In fact the sagas as we have them, and the ideas which we have formed about their distinctive stylistic features, are based on the stylistic habits and preferences of fourteenth-century (or later) scribes. There is every reason to believe that the style which we think of as classical developed around 1300, or even later.33 However, the sense of an ideal style had probably more or less fully developed during the thirteenth century with able scribes paying increasing attention to stylistic consistency. This suggests that islendingasogur may have even improved rather than deteriorated in the hands of scribes.34 However, generalisations about style and narrative method, and our ideas about what constitutes classical saga style, did not develop out of nothing; they fit many sagas well enough. Yet there is no reason to believe that a saga whose style does not measure up to our sense of 114

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the ideal is for that reason alone a later and, in some sense, less authentic work. In some cases we are dealing with interpolations or with insignificant rhetorical elements which have been a feature of saga style from its earliest manifestations; in other instances the offending passages provide information useful for interpreting the text, even though they are not immediately relevant to the plot; and sometimes passages can deviate from "good" saga style, because of the author's incapacity or unwillingness to abide by its rules. The development of saga style into the fourteenth century gives us reason to be cautious about the old adage that the golden age of literature came to an end with the collapse of the Icelandic commonwealth. It will certainly be argued here that the islendingasogur as a genre, and many of the finest individual sagas, drew nourishment from the soil of the commonwealth; that the events of the sagas were formed out of the turbulence which led up to and was a consequence of the fall of the commonwealth; and that the nature of Icelandic literature had changed by the time the reverberations of this age had passed. But literature continued to develop and benefited in many waysfrom the equilibrium in social conditions, as well as from the increased prosperity of the aristocracy in the fourteenth century. Amongst the main attributes of islendingasogur style is the detailed attention paid to characters' actions, which are generally described without elaboration or formality. When, however, the style grows more elaborate, this can be justified in terms of the overall effect. What men say is closely linked to what men do; words grow out of deeds just as deeds grow out of words. It is thus appropriate in any analysis of saga style and narrative technique to examine some examples of this important interaction.

Words and Deeds In the islendingasogurwords speak every bit as loud as actions. The core of most saga scenes is conversation. A good example of a fine battie description heightened by well crafted conversation is chapter 63 of Njrils saga which tells of the battie at Knafah6lar. Thirty

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men lie in wait for the three brothers from Hlioarendi, the warriors Gunnarr and Kolskeggr and their younger brother Hjortr. The scene has been prepared for by Gunnarr's dream in which the main events are foreshadowed. The focus alternates between the group of assembled ambushers and the journey of the brothers, a familiar device for slowing down narrative pace and winching up the level of dramatic intensity. Narrated in this way, the reader may expect something important to happen before the scene is over. The parties meet at the end of chapter 62 when Gunnarr and his companions ride onto a headland by the river. This is a suitable place to mount a defence, and the fight is preceded by the following exchange of words: When they rode past, Kol called out, "Are you running away,Gunnar?" Kolskegg answered, "Askthat when this day is done." Starkad then urged his men on, and they headed toward Gunnar and his brothers on the point of land ... Gunnar shot another arrow at Ulfhedin, Starkad's overseer, and it struck him in the waist and he fell at the feet of a farmer, and the farmer tripped over him. Kolskegg threw a stone and it hit the head of the farmer, and that was the end of him. Then Starkad said, "We won't get anywhere as long as Gunnar has the use of his bow, so let's make a good and swiftcharge." They all urged each other on. Gunnar defended himself with bow and arrows as long as he could. Then he threw them down and took his halberd and sword and fought with both hands. The battle was fierce for a long time, and Gunnar and Kolskegg killed many men. Then Thorgeir Starkadarson said: "I vowed to bring Hildigunn your head, Gunnar." "She can't have set much store by that," said Gunnar, "but still, you'll have to come closer." Thorgeir said to his brothers, "Let's all charge at him together; he has no shield, and we'll have his life in our hands." Bark and Thorkel ran forward and were quicker than Thorgeir. Bark took a swing at Gunnar, and Gunnar struck back so hard with his halberd that the sword flew out of Bark's hand. He then noticed Thorkel on his other side, within striking distance. Gunnar had his weight on one foot; he made a sweep with his sword and hit Thorkel on the neck, and the head flew off (chs 62-63; iii 74-5). 116

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In this scene the individual

characters

but the reader notes the sluggishness brothers

being killed and does not appear

up their assault despite between

exchange of porgeirr

ence between

who watches his

to have tried to follow

his bold words. The exchange

Kolr and Kolskeggr

actions accompany

words and blows,

then

of words

starts up again, but this time

the words, in such a way as to reveal the differ-

the two men:

Kol Egilsson said, "Let me have a go at Kolskegg. I've been saying for a long time that we two would be a fair match." "Now is our chance to find out," said Kolskegg. Kol thrust his spear at him. Kolskegg had just slain a man and had his hands full and so could not get his shield up, and the spear hit him on the outside of the thigh and went through it. Kolskegg moved quickly and stepped towards him and struck him on the thigh with his short-sword and cut off his leg, and then he said, "Did that hit you or not?" "This is what I get," said Kol, "for not shielding myself,"-and he stood for a while on his other leg and looked at the stump. Kolskegg said, ''You don't need to look: it's just as you think, the leg is gone." Then Kol fell down dead (ch. 63; iii 75).

Further

fierce fighting

have had enough,

is described,

but eventually

and the scene concludes

the ambushers

with a final exchange

of words followed by an attack, at the end of which the fall of men is described: Then Starkad said, "Let's flee-these

aren't

men we're dealing

with." Gunnar spoke: "Telling stories about this won't be easy unless there's something on you to show that you've been in battle." Then he charged at Starkad and his son Thorgeir and gave them both bloody wounds. Mter that they parted. Gunnar and his brothers had wounded many of those who got away. In this battle fourteen men died, and Hjort was the fifteenth. Gunnar rode home with Hjort laid out on his shield, and he was buried in a mound there. Many people mourned his loss, for he had been well liked (ibid.).

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At the homecoming of the attackers the narrator creates a brief scene in which their thoughts about the fight, and the thoughts of those close to them, are given succinct expression: Starkad and Thorgeir came home, and Hildigunn treated their wounds and said, "You would give a great deal now not to have treated Gunnar so badly." "We certainly would," said Starkad (ibid.).

Though Arnkell in J:.)rbyggja saga is a formidable fighter and defends himself well, as we have already seen, his fighting methods and results are very different from those of Gunnarr. They share the same heroic spirit, with neither Arnkell nor Gunnarr wishing to cut and run in the face of superior force, but Arnkell's defence is described in a realistic and down to earth way.,He defends himself with a cudgel which happens to be to hand, and there is no word of his killing anyone. "No-one may withstand many," says the Icelandic proverb. The situation in the Njrils saga scene is very different, however. Gunnarr is well armed-he has a bow, halberd and fine sword; he kills at least eight men, whilst he himself is unscathed; and at the end of the fight sixteen men flee from the two brothers, many of them wounded. The description of the battle is vivid and seemingly without exaggeration-out of the fifteen men who die, the deaths of ten are described in some detail, along with the wounding of several others. There are also striking accounts of the brothers' deeds, but the scene derives still greater force from the dialogue. I>orgeirr Starkaosson and Kolr Egilsson bluster a good deal in their speeches, but both prove to be men whose words are not validated by deeds. The conversation between Kolr and Kolskeggr is a masterpiece of ironic understatement. Both Gunnarr and Kolskeggr reveal their contempt for their opponents in what they say, and the progress of the fight confirms that they had every reason to do so. In this episode it seems as if the author of Njrils saga relishes describing the fall of men in battle-such is his skill in doing so-but Gunnarr is portrayed as unassertive and reluctant to kill, whilst his friend Njall spares no effort in trying to maintain a fragile peace. The reader often feels that the author of Njrils saga

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is intent on doing everything better and with greater panache than previous islendingasogur authors-and that he almost always succeeds. It may be, however, that some readers will prefer the cool and everyday realism of Eyrbyggja saga to the stylised bravura of Njrils saga, or the concentrated brutality of Egill Skalla-Grimsson and his killings, which he carries out with all Gunnarr's flair and none of his sentimentality-it is Gunnarr who claims to be reluctant to kill men and who is so moved by the late summer colours of Flj6tshlio.35 But the reader should guard against confusing Gunnarr and Njall with the saga as a whole. In any case the author of Njrils saga is more than equal to the authors of other sagas when it comes to the crafting of ironic and incisive remarks. The account of the fight at Knafah6lar, like other descriptions in Njrils saga, is very detailed and clear, and though the organising point of view is that of Gunnarr and his brothers, and though the whole fight serves to dramatise the contrast between the brothers and their opponents, the voice of the narrator retains its disciplined neutrality, describing everything with forensic care and allowing the material to speak for itself. Few saga narrators so relish and rise to the challenge of their narrative raw materials as the narrator of Njrila.

119

The Power of the Word

Words and Reputation To "begin to speak" is an important action in the islendingasogur, and the words of men can in turn generate actions, whether their own or those of others. People make a request and that request is either granted or denied. Consent involves an obligation which an individual must discharge; otherwise things will turn out badly. Refusal represents disrespect directed at the individual who has made the request. Agreements, breaches of agreements, threats, insults and challenges are all verbal events which can have unhappy consequences (Amory 1991). It would, however, be wrong to consider only the negative force of words. People are judged by the extent to which they are likely to stand by their pledged word. Keeping one's word was, of course, more important in a society less familiar with written documents and agreements than is the case today, but few would deny its importance even in modern society. In many places in the islendingasogurwe find a faith in the power of the word to a degree which is surprising to the modern mind. Words spoken without any evil intent can nevertheless have the direst consequences. There are many examples of prophecy and interpretation of dreams giving offence, even though the statements or claims are plausible and do indeed come true; it is as if men fear that dreams will come true through the very act of voicing an interpretation of them, or that spoken prophecy can help to bring about the event prophesied. One of the best examples of this is the end of Guomundr the Powerful as narrated in Lj6svetninga saga. A man called 1>6rhallr,who has no other role in the saga, has a dream and then goes to Dream-Finni to have it interpreted. Finni has no wish to hear the dream, and tells 1>6rhallr to leave, urging him to speak with Guomundr the Powerful. 120

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Gudmundr listens to the dream and dies almost immediately. His brother Einarr has an explanation for this: ''''Your dream is not without some force, Thorhall," said Einar. "Finni could see by looking at you that the man you told your dream to was doomed and he wished that on Gudmund"" (ch. 21; iv 232). Dream-Finni was the brother of I>orkell the Insolent whom Gudmundr had caused to be killed. Belief in the power of the word is widespread in Grettis saga and is often connected with the proverbs of which the saga has such an abundance. When Grettir resolves to confront the ghost Glamr, he goes to meet his maternal uncle, Jokull Bardarson, who advises him against the exploit, which he considers dangerous and foolhardy. Grettir is not convinced by this warning, and Jokull says: "I can see there's no point in trying to dissuade you, but the saying is true, that fate and fortune do not always go hand-in-hand." "Peril waits at a man's door, though another goes in before," said Grettir. ''You should consider what fate you yourself will meet in the end." Jokul replied, "We both may have some insight into the future, but neither of us can prevent it happening." Mter this they parted ways, and neither was pleased with the other's predictions

(ch. 34; ii 105).

It is, of course, also possible to interpret this kind of reaction to predictions and dream interpretations to mean that the person about whom the prophecy is made believes that an evil thought or wish may accompany a bad prophecy. The hypersensitivity of saga characters to what other people say often seems remarkable to the modern reader. The explanation lies in the faith placed in the power of the word and, at the same time, in the importance attached to what is said about people in a society which relentlessly measures the deeds and ~tatus of men, and which assigns honour or dishonour on the basis of such judgements. An insulting speech invariably produces a strong reaction, and the insulted party has the option of answering back. Failure to do so leaves him with no other choice than to seek redress either through compensation or violence if he is not to lose face. Slander of every kind is much more dangerous, leading to vengeance 121

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directed at the original slanderer rather than at those who help to circulate the remarks though, in truth, both could end up as victims. In the Eddic poems and legendary sagas there are several instances of characters exchanging insults with their enemies before a fight or, where circumstances prevent armed combat from taking place, as a means of venting their aggression. Such an exchange was known in Icelandic as a senna [flyting] , and features prominently in the poetry of the ancient Germanic peoples.36 Most frequently the kernel of the exchange is an insult which casts doubt on the masculinity of one of the parties, often through accusations of an inclination towards same-sex relationships. It is an accusation of just this sort which leads finally to a breach of the settlement made after the killing of Hoskuldr the Hvftaness chieftain. Flosi reads sexually insulting implications into a gift which Njall has added to the agreed sum of compensation, and makes taunting reference to Njall's lack of a beard, attributing it to his deficient masculinity. Skarpheoinn answers this with a still more brazen insult: "if you are the sweetheart of the troll at Svinafell, as is said, he uses you as a woman every ninth night" (ch. 123; iii 148). In law such a remark would justify a revenge killing, and the attempts to reach a mutually acceptable settlement come to nothing. Earlier Skarpheoinn had shown his verbal dexterity in a kind of flyting directed against a group of chieftains who had been reluctant to offer him support after Hoskuldr's death. His accusations on that occasion, however, related more to their want of courage than to their sexuality, though in such exchanges these two elements were often closely linked. There is certainly no mistaking the sexual overtones of Skarpheoinn's jibe when he invites porkell the Insolent to pick from his teeth "the mare's arse you ate before riding to the Thing" (ch. 120; iii 144) because both mares and arses are frequently referred to in such insulting remarks.37 Verbal skirmishing was measured as part of the continuous process of evaluation to which men's actions were subjected in the honour and shame culture of the commonwealth period, and this is clearly the case in the islendingasogur, as many examples confirm. Bandamanna saga, probably composed around 1300, is remarkable 122

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for the extent to which its characters fight with words rather than with weapons, with the exception of the framework narrative about the unlucky Ospakr. In the comic account of the conflict between the elderly Ofeigr from Reykir in Miofjoror and the chieftains, the climax takes the form of confrontations at the Althing: first the mockery which Ofeigr directs at the chieftains, when he selects the arbitrators, and later the exchange of words between Egill Skulason from Borg and the other chieftains when the terms of the arbitration are announced. The accusations here involve avarice, meanness and stupidity, depending on the individual concerned, and the chieftains are compelled to endure such accusations without redress. It is clear that they lost honour as a result of the case as a whole-and that includes Egill and Gellir whose support Ofeigr bought; they exhibited unseemly greed and indifference to justice; and subsequently they lacked the wit to see through Ofeigr's trickery. Those who suffer the most are the ones who have to endure the verbal mockery. The saga probably expects its readers to consider what the gossip of the countryside might have been after the events at the Thing, and who might have been the main targets for the derisive laughter. Idle chatter to pass the time of day is rarely to be found in sagas except in those instances where heedless conversation or malicious tittle-tattle prove to be the catalysts for disputes. A case in point is the conversation between Auor and Asgeror in Gisla saga about earlier love affairs: without their realising it they are overheard by l>orkell Sursson, and their unguarded words lead directly to the subsequent killings and eventually to the outlawry of Gisli. The most significant element in this conversation is when Asgeror, the wife of l>orkell, confesses her love for Vesteinn, Auor's brother. In any honour-based culture it follows automatically that what some people say about others, whether the comment is favourable or otherwise, can have profound consequences. In some sagas we find characters debating who is the most significant man or woman in the region. In striving to protect and promote their honour it is unfavourable or mocking comment from such discussions which individuals fear so much. It is the vox populi, the common view as to the worth of individuals, the honour and respect granted by the community, which represents the final

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court of judgement when sagas seek to indicate whether an individual has derived honour or dishonour from a dispute or feud. The beggar women of Njrils saga who carry slanders between the households of the Rangarvellir district have achieved their own kind of fame, and the role of women in such situations is often more prominent than in others (Helga Kress 1991 and 1993, 175-78). There are, however, many instances of men transmitting slanderous gossip, and paying the price for doing so. In Lj6svetninga saga chattering women repeat slander about Guomundr the Powerful previously spoken by 1>6rir Helgason and I>orkell the Insolent, and Guomundr exacts his revenge: 1>6riris sentenced to minor outlawry, and I>orkellis killed. In Droplaugarsonar saga there is a man called 1>6rgrimr Dung-Beetle. He and other men discuss "which women were foremost in that district" (ch. 3; iv 359). Their general consensus favoured Droplaug of Arneioarstaoir. Then 1>6rgrimr says, "So she would be, if she had been content with just her husband" (ibid.). None of those present agrees with this remark and, predictably, it costs the speaker his life. In all the sagas there are examples of the power of words. Again and again we see that words once spoken cannot be retracted. This is, of course, particularly the case with poetry. It is not just that poetry can live longer than both poets and poetic subjects, but also that words used in poetry are invested with a special resonance and force.

Prose and Verse in the Islendingasogur Readers of islendingasogur do not always bother to read or wrestle with the verses which occur frequently in the sagas, and their contribution to a saga's meaning is thus neglected. Such verses nevertheless represent one of the most distinctive features of many sagas, and they deserve the reader's full attention. It is worth asking why many islendingasogur authors include in their sagas a large number of verses which rarely serve to further the plot and which sometimes seem to retard it. There are four possible answers to this question, none of them mutually exclusive. Firstly, it may have been the case that the verses played an important part in 124

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the oral tradition within which the author was working, and that it was therefore natural for him to include such verses when they were linked to the narrative material of the saga. Secondly, we could be dealing with the influence of older sagas, especially kings' sagas, in which verses seem to function as authenticating devices. Thirdly, it may be that the islendingasog;ur authors needed the verses so that saga characters could express emotions and reactions which would have seemed unnatural when expressed in prose, and which would have been even less appropriate for a saga narrator to use, because they touch on the private affairs and inner life of the characters.38 Fourthly, it is possible to regard verses as a narrative retardation device, enabling the story to assume a greater density and resonance in anticipation of some significant event. Bjarni Einarsson has shown that verses often perform very different roles in the kings' sagas and in the islendingasog;ur, and it is possible to define these roles in terms of how the verses are introduced in sagas. Often in kings' sagas a verse serves to authenticate an event which has already been narrated, and as such adds nothing new to the narrative; there are also many verses which have an independent status by dramatising the feelings and reactions of characters, thereby lending greater richness and complexity to the narrative texture. In the islendingasog;urverses are seldom cited for the authentication of events. They are nearly always an integral part of the narrative, events in their own right or additions to the prose (Bjarni Einarsson 1974). Bjarni concludes that there is no reason to believe that the islendingasog;ur verses are in general older than the sagas themselves, though it is very likely that the kings' saga verses quoted for purposes of authentication are older than the sagas and are either genuine, or are at least quoted in the belief that they are genuine.39 There are a few examples in the islendingasog;ur of verses being used to authenticate events, in the same way as they function in the kings' sagas. Eyrbyggja saga may serve as a case in point, with its references to an apparently biographical poem about Snorri the Chieftain by I>ormoor Trefilsson, as mentioned above. A similar function is performed in F6stbrceora saga by I>ormoor's "I>orgeirsdrapa" and in Heioarviga saga by the verses of Eirfkr the Wide-Seeing. It also happens that a verse is a

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speech act which can bring dire consequences in its wake, most notably when Gfsli Sursson (Gisla saga, v. 9; ii 20) and Vfga-Glumr (Viga-Glums saga, v. 7; ii 305) confess to killings in very complex verses, which are eventually interpreted and become crucial evidence in the cases brought against them. Otherwise the kind of poetry which has a direct influence on the course of events in a saga is that which is proscribed by law: verses of passionate love or defamation (niO). The most celebrated example of men who fight each other through their verses is the conflict between Bjorn Hftdoror Kolbeinsson in Bjarnar saga. The two combatants are finally reconciled by comparing each other's verses, just as if they were discussing killings or battle wounds, but even at this stage they quarrel about the relative force of their insults. More effective are Egill Skalla-Grfmsson's verses about Eirfkr Bloodaxe and Gunnhildr in which he calls on the guardian spirits to drive them from the land; the words of the saga can be read as confirming that these verses may have played some part in bringing about the exile of the royal couple. Even though the heroes of the poets' sagas compose many verses about women, these verses have not alwaysbeen a source of offence or conflict, and we do not know whether they were circulated by the poets themselves or by others. In Kormriks saga it is not Kormakr's poems but his visits to Steingeror and their talks together which irritate her father and brothers; it is not at all clear whether the poems were ever heard. Whatever the reaction of men, the belief was that women enjoyed being praised in poems if they felt that the poet was being sincere. This becomes apparent in comic fashion in F6stbrceorasaga when the poet l>ormoor Bessason begins to serenade l>ordfs of Ogr with love songs which had previously been directed towards l>orbjorg the Dark-Browed of Arnardalr, and which are eventually redirected towards her. Saga verses are obviously of greatest value when they help to reveal the mental and emotional life of the characters. The reader comes face to face with Gfsli's mental turmoil and his sense of the imminence of death in the verses where his dream-women appear to him (see pp. 171-73); without Kormakr's verses the saga would seem threadbare, and the reader would have little reason to be126

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lieve in the poet's great passion, which he does so little to fulfil by his deeds. In the prose of Egils saga we find a memorable portrayal of Egill Skalla-Grimsson, but it is as a tough customer that we encounter him, a character for whom we can feel little affection for all that we admire his courage and resolution. When his verses and longer poems are taken into account, however, a wholly different character emerges: a gloomy, passionate, and sensitive man who has difficulty in expressing himself in prose and reveals his deepest feelings only in the most complex poetic imagery, but yet contrives to rediscover his will to live through his poetry. As many have experienced, it is perfectly possible to read and enjoy most islendingasogur without paying much attention to the poetry. Indeed in some sagas there are no verses to ignore, or the few that there are seem unimportant. It is clear, therefore, that poetry is no necessary precondition for saga as a narrative genre to exert a powerful artistic influence. Nevertheless the verses do play an important role in many sagas; they are integral to the texts, and in many instances, as I have suggested, sagas would be very much the poorer without them. It is thus worthwhile to try and understand better their nature and the functions they perform. Of the many possible reasons why islendingasogur authors saw fit to introduce verses into their prose sagas, the most likely is that authors were familiar with a mixed mode of narration, both in sagas about heroes, where prose narrative alternates with Eddic style verse, and also in the historical or semi-historical narratives which were the sources of the kings' sagas and the islendingasogur. Familiarity with such traditions may well have led saga authors to regard it as only natural to make use of all available poetry, sometimes the work of actual saga characters, sometimes composed on their behalf by later story tellers. It is surely not impossible to believe that the authors of the islendingasogur may themselves have composed verses and assigned them to saga characters, just as we believe that the same authors assigned to those same characters most of the dialogue to be found in sagas. No attempt will be made here to categorise saga verses according to their origins. The simple but important point to recognise is that they were introduced into saga texts, and have every right to be regarded as an integral part of those texts. In some sagas this

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mixed narrative mode has been used very deftly to create new meanings in the intriguing textual space which lies between saga prose and verse. This is particularly the case with the poets' sagasEgils saga, Bjarnar saga, Gunnlaugs saga ormstungu, Hallfreoar saga and Kormtiks saga-but it is also true in Gisla saga, Grettis saga, and E.yrbyggjasaga (with l>6rarinn the Black of Mavahlio and Bjorn the Breioviking Champion). In these works it can be seen that prose and verse combine to narrate a story which neither mode is able to do satisfactorily by itself. For all their supreme narrative artistry, sagas such as Laxdmla saga, Njtils saga and Hrafnkels saga, and many others relying almost exclusively on prose, never succeed in laying bare and illuminating their principal characters for the reader to the extent that the poets' sagas do. We surely learn a good deal less about the feelings of Njall than about those of Egill, Kormakr or , Gisli Sursson. This is not to imply that Laxdmla saga or Njtils saga are in any way deficient; they are simply sagas of a different kind.40 Not the least importance of saga verses is their capacity to remind us that there is more to the emotional life of saga characters than the insatiable hunger for honour which seems to dominate many a saga plot. Gisli Sursson does nothing to suggest that he knows the meaning of fear, even though as an outlaw he resorts to unheroic methods to confuse and evade his pursuers. However his dream verses reveal a mind in turmoil, almost overwhelmed with a sense of the imminence of death. Kormakr Ogmundarson is also deeply troubled in spirit, convinced that his passionate love for Steingeror carries with it the promise of ill fortune and death. Yet even his emotional turmoil is not as striking as that of Egill SkallaGrimsson as revealed in his poetry, even if we discount the "Sonatorrek" and "Arinbjarnarkvioa" poems which seem not to have been a part of the saga in its earliest incarnation. There is, moreover, good reason not to discount these two longer poems. Many readers have considered them an integral part of the saga, and the salJle sense of powerful temperament which they reveal can also be found in Egill's individual verses in the saga, even though in these his struggle against depression is by no means as passionate as that revealed in "Sonatorrek". The concentration and complexity of verse distinguishes it from prose, as becomes especially clear when we compare the straight128

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forward prose to be found in the islendingasogurwith skaldic verse which is as far removed from prose as can be imagined. The narrative usually comes to a halt when a verse is quoted, but this lyric element can provide insights into the state of mind whoever composes the verse, thereby creating additional layers of narrative subtlety. It seems right, therefore, to regard saga poetry as an independent layer in the text, which must be linked in one or more ways with the prose layer. The potency of verse has its roots in that same belief in the power of the word discussed earlier in this chapter, but nowhere is this power more clearly in evidence than in poetry.41 The chief importance of saga verses is as a key to the minds of those who compose them, and for this reason they will be discussed further in the next chapter which deals with the characters in the islendingasogur.

129

Retrospect

This chapter began as an attempt to understand what the islendingasogurare, what sorts of event take place in them, and how they are constructed. We have seen that feud narratives centring on questions of honour and reflecting many other aspects of human life lie at the heart of sagas. The narratives are situated in a world where forces outside human control cast their shadow over human affairs, even though the sagas' chief concern is man's life in this world and his constant struggle to defend his honour. We have also seen that sagas are constructed out of smaller narrative units performing a variety of roles. At the narrative core we find scenes in which men confront each other, singly or in groups, and in which conversation often figures prominently. These scenes are in turn co-ordinated by summarising narrative and comment, less striking in itself but helpful to our understanding of the saga as a whole. Sagas take place over quite a long period of time compared with most modern narratives, and we have noted how authors employ time both as a linking device and as a way of creating tension and drama by alternately increasing or retarding the narrative pace. We have also examined the role of the saga narrator, his measured voice contrasting with the frequently terrible events being described. He often exercises more influence on the reader by his restraint or even by his silence than by direct comments. It happens, however, that the narrator addresses the reader directly, unobtrusively passing on important information. The narrator may draw our attention to particular characters for brief or extended periods in subtle ways which help to control the level of our sympathy or hostility towards the character in question. Though the vocabulary of sagas is not large, and on the surface there is little rhetorical ornament, words are used tellingly and incisively. Considerable attention is paid to characters' physical appearance and clothing as part of their overall description. Dialogue plays a vital role in identifYing the latent forces driving the 130

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plot, and the reciprocal relationship between words and deeds is also an important key to character depiction. The sagas reveal a greater faith in the independent life and power of words than is to be found nowadays. This reveals itself both in the interpretation of dreams and in various verbal disputes and flyting matches. The word is at its most intense and powerful in poetry, with saga verses performing a variety of functions, notably the illumination of the inner life of characters not revealed in the prose. In this way it represents an independent layer in the text. And now, having examined the units and layers which make up the text, we turn to its interpretation, to the world which it reveals, and to the inhabitants of that world.

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Actors and Actions

Dramatis personce As we saw in the previous chapter it is the events themselves which form the backbone of sagas; they are apparently the reason why the sagas are narrated. But the events which constitute a plot do not happen of their own accord. Someone does something or has something done to them, and the origins of remarkable and memorable events usually lie in the lives of remarkable and memorable individuals. Having examined the nature of islendingasogur conflicts-how they arise, develop, and are narrated, we turn now to the individuals who are at the heart of these conflicts. How best can these characters be distinguished from each other? What are their thoughts and feelings? What for them are the most important things in life? What kind of community do they help to create, and what forces and tensions act on them within that community? The priorities and approaches of literary scholars change from generation to generation. The early twentieth century saga scholar's preoccupation with character description in the islendingasogur has given way more recently to emphasis on elements such as narrative technique and the sagas' construction of medieval Icelandic society.Yet anyone familiar with the islendingasogur is bound to be intrigued by the descriptions of saga characters.1 The variety of techniques for creating such portraits is evident in the scenes analysed in the previous chapter, as well as those to be discussed in the present chapter. Important figures are usually introduced by a statement outlining the character's outward appearance, abilities and underlying nature. Character portraits can be introduced at crucial moments in the narrative, and as we have seen some of the greatest heroes are accorded a kind of valedictory tribute. Above all, however, men reveal what sort of people they are through what they say and do, as well as the extent to which these two elements 135

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are in harmony (see pp. 115-19). It is likely that medieval scholarly notions about human types and human psychology influenced some islendingasogur authors, as did translated literary works such as Alexanders saga (Lonnroth 1970). Yet there is little doubt that the deepest influence on islendingasogur character description derives from thirteenth-century Icelanders' traditional and native ideas about character, a sense nourished by heroic poetry, by ancestral tale and, not least, by their experience of everyday life. Individuals perform a relatively limited number of roles in sagas, and the events which test those individuals and allow them to reveal their true qualities have much in common. We might imagine that saga characters are all really rather like each other; at first sight this can certainly seem to be the case. Yet, examined more closely, this sizeable group of figures proves to be far more varied. This is mainly because saga writers rarely try to depict perfect characters, and in any case a man's excellence is no guarantee of success or even survival in the saga world. In a dispute it is often not clear on which side justice truly lies, and the man who wins our sympathy and admiration by dying bravely after heroic resistance may well have dug his own grave earlier by thoughtless behaviour. Scholarly analysis of characterisation has mostly confined itself to celebrated works such as Njdls saga, LaxdlEla saga and Egils saga, or Hrafnkels saga and Grettis saga. In these narratives the character portraits are generally clearly drawn but by no means straightforward. Very different types of individual can perform similar roles in a saga, and individuals can conform to type in very different ways.2 In stories built around feuds, such as the islendingasogur, we might expect to find sympathetic heroes in dispute with unworthy opponents. A good example of such a conflict can be found in the fight at Knafah6lar (see pp. 115-18) in which Gunnarr of Hlioarendi and his brothers defeat mean-minded adversaries driven by the lowest motives. Yet the distinction between good and evil characters tends to be much less clear in sagas than in saints' lives. Heroes may well find themselves under attack by worthy men acting in good faith, as was the case with Snorri the chieftain and his supporters when they attacked and killed Arnkell. Again, the worthiest saga hero often has faults which contribute to his down136

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fall; and amongst the family and followers of faultless heroes are often to be found ill-starred men who time and again prove to be troublemakers. Though the hero's opponents may be described as villains or, at best, thoughtless disturbers of the peace, this is by no means always the case. There are often extenuating circumstances, and good men frequently assume a leading role in complex disputes affecting their honour which less worthy men have initiated. The sense of what might be called moral equilibrium which is a feature of many classical sagas, is less in evidence when we examine postclassical sagas. In these works virtually flawless heroes often find themselves confronted by unmistakably wicked opponents. Characters are one-dimensional, and the worthy hero normally triumphs over his evil opponent. The plots and conceptual world of the islendingasogur require heroes, or at least men who can behave heroically when need arises. Exemplary figures of dauntless courage and resolve are to be found in heroic poetry, and the respect accorded to prowess in armed conflict, natural enough in a society in which men have to defend themselves, ensures that sagas lay special emphasis on such elements. Ambition is another important saga quality, inevitably so in a society which values honour so highly. However, limits are placed on heroism by society's need to achieve a resolution of all conflicts so that life (no matter how fraught) can go on. So it is that moderation and a conciliatory spirit are also seen as positive qualities to be set in the balance against aggression and arrogance. Experience shows also that not everyone is blessed with intelligence and foresight in equal measure; accordingly good sense and a tractable spirit are qualities to set against irrationality and wilfulness. Though the overall framework of positive and negative qualities operating within the sagas is not in itself particularly complex, many different combinations of such qualities can be found between individual characters. Additional elements also lend colour and vitality to a character: generosity and loyalty, a sense of humour, and a way with words, and on the other hand self-importance, cruelty, and duplicity. Last, but not least, many sagas pay close attention to a character's physical appearance. An individual's looks are certainly part of his or her personality, and saga

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writers are skilled in exploiting this, no matter whether their descriptive techniques and models derive from foreign or native literary tradition, or from the homespun wisdom of their own times. Though the islendingasogur devote a good deal of attention to heroes and their opponents, such characters do not have the world to themselves. The sagas present a many-sided vision of society in which, for example, women playa major role even though they take no part in actual fighting. One of the most familiar female roles in all literature is that of the desirable, unmarried woman. As often as not in the islendingasogur she is a somewhat passive character, like equivalent women in other narrative forms. However, the saga woman's story does not end with a wedding as it does in many romances. Wives and widows play important roles, sometimes as peace-makers and on other occasions as inciters; women-especially mature women-have access to supernatural knowledge hidden from men which can help them to prevail in struggles against supernatural forces. Women of modest background, working women or vagrants, can also contribute importantly to a saga plot through what they say. The gaze of the islendingasogur extends beyond people who could be described as members of an Icelandic upper class, well-born and wealthy farmers and their households, and includes small farmers, labourers and even slaves.

Heroes-Perfect and Imperfect Some famous saga heroes such as Gunnarr of Hlioarendi and ~artan Olafsson, are described as being fair-haired, handsome, and athletic, and no less familiar are the descriptions of characters such as Egill Skalla-Grimsson and Skarpheoinn Njalsson who may be darker in hair or temperament but who are equally formidable warriors; the red-haired figure of Grettir Asmundarson also belongs to this distinguished list. Shrewd and peace-loving men such as Njall of Bergp6rshvall, the chieftain Askell or Olafr the Peacock offer sound advice to such heroes and seek to settle disputes on their behalf. Not all saga writers devote equal attention to charac138

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ter description, but they all seem to strike the same note of cool objectivitywhen describing their principal characters, so that an individual's positive and negative qualities tend to balance each other out. Gunnarr is peace-loving but unable to master his pride; ~artan is flamboyant but he cannot control his emotions; both Grettir and Skarpheoinn have problems of temperament which land them in grave difficulties; Njall's wisdom is not always selfless, and ultimately fails to protect his home and friends from ill-fortune. These men are larger than life, but the balance of good and evil within an individual personality can seem all too true to life. In smaller roles on the other hand we often find more down-to-earth types of character. In the previous chapter we saw how the pride and ambition of Halli Siguroarson in Valla-Lj6ts saga led first to his own downfall and later to that of his son and brother. There is no glory attached to Halli as a character. He creates problems and causes conflict but there are extenuating circumstances which prevent us from branding him as an out and out villain. Born into the position of honour, of which he regarded himself as worthy, he might well have become an excellent chieftain. In Droplaugarsona saga, Helgi Droplaugarson resembles Halli in many ways, and lives a similar life. Yet he seems to us a more admirable figure, whilst Helgi Asbjarnarson, his more moderate adversary, elicits little reader sympathy. Helgi and Grimr Droplaugarson are introduced as follows in the saga: ... they had two sons. The elder was named Helgi, and Grim the younger. There was a year between them ... Helgi was a big man in stature, and handsome and strong, a cheery man and assertive. He had no interest at all in farming. He was as skilled in arms as any man. Grim was a big man in stature and very strong, as well as taciturn and calm-tempered. He was a great farmer. Those brothers trained themselves in skills of every kind, and they were regarded there as foremost among all young men in everything they did, so that their equals were nowhere to be found (ch. 2; iv 357-58).

Heroic brothers, unlike each other but with complementary virtues, are a common motif in the islendingasogur. In the description of Helgi and Grimr Droplaugarson it is certainly Helgi who is more likely to hurl himself into the thick of things, but there is no 139

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doubting Grimr's ability to acquit himself well when the need arises, because both men are strong, brave, and skilled in battle. Their contrasting temperaments are dearly delineated, however. Helgi is "cheery and assertive", Grimr is "taciturn and calm-tempered"; unlike the "great farmer" Grimr, Helgi "had no interest at all in farming". A man with Grimr's qualities is likely to be useful and not easily provoked. Helgi's temperament hints at future trouble; the Icelandic word havaoasamr [assertive, boisterous] is generally used in a negative sense, signifying a person who is aggressive and disruptive and not merely a noisy blusterer. Such an individual is a likely source of conflict. His reluctance to assume the role of a farmer leaves him with little else to do than immerse himself in matters beyond the confines of the farm, seeking to increase his power and honour in society either by meddling in the affairs of others or even by the direct harassment of individuals. The two brothers had lost their father when they were young, and when a worthless man slanders their mother they kill him; they were then respectively twelve and thirteen years old. Compensation is paid for this killing but Helgi "did not like compensation being paid for Dung-Beetle's slaying; he considered the slander unavenged" (ch. 4; iv 360). Straight afterwards the saga says: "The brothers stayed at Krossavik and Helgi acquired knowledge of the law from Thorkel. Helgi engaged in lawsuits a great deal, and frequently brought actions against Helgi Asbjarnarson's thingmen." Helgi Asbjarnarson is a chieftain and received the compensation for the killing of porgrimr Dung-Beetle, who was his freedman. It is apparent that Helgi Droplaugarson had decided to try to increase his honour and influence by taking on Helgi Asbjarnarson, but we should note that he does so through due legal process. He can therefore hardly be thought of as an ojafnaoarma/Jr [an overbearing man] (see pp. 157-58). Matters grow ever more serious until Helgi Asbjarnarson can endure Helgi Droplaugarson's provocation no longer; with the help of a party of supporters he ambushes and kills him. Grimr is wounded and left for dead but survives and eventually avenges his brother. Helgi Droplaugarson's last stand is very courageous, and the account of it in the saga is spiced with his heroic comments. The events leading up to the

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battle, and its beginning are described in great detail, with attention paid to the actions of both contending parties, as was usual in such circumstances, but after the battle is fully joined, the narrative focus settles on Helgi Droplaugarson's words and actions. Helgi Asbjarnarson, the leader of the attackers, is injured right at the start of the fight so that he is compelled to sit and watch, unable to wield a weapon. He has a larger force, however, and the Droplaugarsons are defeated: Helgi Droplaugarson's shield got badly hacked, and he saw that it would be of no use to him with things the way they were. Then Helgi showed his skill in arms and threw up his shield and sword and caught the sword in his left hand and struck at Hjarrandi, hitting him on the thigh. But the sword did not cut after it reached the bone, and it glanced off down into the hollow of the knee, and he was disabled by that wound. And in that moment Hjarrandi struck at Helgi, but he warded off the blow with the shield, and the sword sprang off it into his face and onto his row of teeth, taking off the lower lip. Then Helgi said, "I was never beautiful, but you've made little improvement." He then felt with his hand and thrust his beard into his mouth and bit on it. But Hjarrandi went down to the base of the snowdrift and sat down. People say that Helgi's encounter with Hjarrandi would have been shorter if Helgi had had his sword and had not been obliged to guard himself against more people, but Hjarrandi was nevertheless the most dauntless of men. Then Helgi saw that Grim, his brother, had fallen; they who had attacked him were all dead, but Grim was mortally wounded. Then Helgi took the sword that Grim had owned and said, "Now has fallen the man to whom 1was best disposed. My namesake must surely wish that we should not just part like that." And Helgi then made downwards for where Helgi Asbjarnarson was sitting, by which time everybody had jumped down from the snowdrift, and no one wanted to wait for Helgi. "There you stand, Ozur," said Helgi, "and I'm not going to guard myself against you, because you sprinkled me with water at my name-giving." And he happened to come down just opposite Ozur. Then Ozur had to think quickly of what to do, because the death

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of either one of the two Helgis was imminent. Ozur's solution was that he lunged at Helgi Droplaugarson with the spear, so that it went right through him. Helgi walked forward onto the spear and said to Ozur, "Now you've betrayed me." Ozur saw that Helgi was turning towards him and would reach him with the sword. Then he pushed the spear and everything with it away from him. Then he turned the spear downwards into the ground and then let go of it. Then Helgi said, when he saw that he could not reach him, "Now I delayed while you, on the other hand, hurried." He then staggered off, out onto the snow, and thus ended the life of Helgi Droplaugarson (ch. 10; iv 369-70).

Helgi's opponents are generous in their tributes to his courage: Then one man said, "What did Helgi Droplaugarson do above and beyond other people today?" Sigurd Cormorant said, "If all on Helgi Droplaugarson's side had been such as he was, none of us would have got away" (ch. 11; iv 370).

Helgi Droplaugarson's last stand proves that he is a hero, a staunch warrior unafraid of death, and a man whose laconic remarks bear witness to his equable temperament and sense of humour. The narrator has not tried to hide Helgi's ambition and aggression, but our last glimpse of him in the saga is as a hero. However, this description of his final battle is not as vivid as the accounts of the deaths of Gfsli Sursson or Gunnarr of Hlfoarendi; nor is it charged with as much emotion as the death of ~artan Olafsson; nor is Helgi as self-effacing as Arnkell the chieftain or Gunnarr. These few examples confirm just how much variety there is in the image of the saga hero, although fearlessness in the face of death is common to them all. With the death of Helgi, his brother Grfmr emerges from his shadow and assumes the role of avenger. He must hide and wait for the right moment to take vengeance. Helgi himself would never have shown such patience and self-control, but when the moment arrives Grfmr shows daring and resource in full measure. Grfmr's role in the saga is important, partly because his virtues compensate

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for the faults of his brother and make it easier for the reader to viewboth brothers sympathetically. In many waysit is Grfmr rather than his brother who resembles the finest islendingasogur heroes, but whereas he is no natural leader Helgi stands out wherever he goes, like Gunnarr of Hlfoarendi or Skarpheoinn Njalsson. Grfmr's role resembles that of Gunnarr's brother Kolskeggr, or Grfmr and Helgi the sons of Njall, but unlike them he has the chance to act as an independent hero after his brother's death.3 In Droplaugarsonar saga we can see the importance of the way in which heroes are introduced. In the case of Helgi Droplaugarson the introduction has three functions: establishing attention and sympathy for the character, highlighting his virtues (and also his weaknesses), and hinting at the likely course of events within the saga. The story duly unfolds in line with those hints. Much would be lost by the omission of the introduction, and no-one can be a true hero without an heroic introduction or death. In Reykdcela saga Vemundr Fringe Fjorleifarson is the main protagonist and a difficult and troublesome individual-we read that "Vemund was not regarded as a fair-minded man ... " (ch. 4; iv 261). Thereafter we learn something of his courageous deeds, their (for the most part) evil intent and their unhappy consequences. Mter the best man in the family, Askell the chieftain, has been killed in a dispute caused by Vemundr, he finally shows himself anxious to reach a settlement. The saga takes leave of him in this way: "As for Vemund Fringe, it is said that he died of an illness but was thought to be a very great warrior while he lived" (ch. 16; iv 282). What is the role of Wmundr Fringe in Reykdcela saga, and how ought we to view him? For several lengthy chapters he is the focus of narrative attention as if he were the principal character, and his courage and resolve are never in doubt. In some wayshe resembles Helgi Droplaugarson, but he is neither a lawyer nor a wise man, and he destroys peace settlements heedlessly. Yet none of his opponents engages our special sympathy. The role of Vemundr Fringe in Reykdcela saga is, thus, to set in motion a sequence of events which impact on and trouble his kinsmen repeatedly. Vemundr's aggression seems all the more wilful when contrasted with the behaviour of his uncle, Askell the chieftain, a wise lawyer and a man of peace. Mter Askell's death, his son Skuta 143

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appears on the scene as hero and avenger. By this time there is no longer any role for Vemundr Fringe, and it may be that there were simply no more stories about him after Askell's demise. He is a good example of how men's fates are not necessarily determined by what they do or who they are. Vemundr is a doughty fighter but no hero; he stirs up a great deal of trouble, and to that extent isa luckless individual, but it is others who must endure the consequences. The fates of men in sagas are no more governed by justice and merit than they are in real life. Modern readers have no difficulty in forming their own moral judgements about the saga characters discussed in this section, and the sagas themselves offer us plenty of information which helps us to recognise when characters behave imprudently according to the prevailing Saga-Age morality. Yet the sagas about such people are not told as morality tales concerned with right and wrong behaviour, for all that this aspect of the stories has doubtless been pondered by listeners and readers over the years. The islendingasogur tell of memorable events, and of course in a world where everyone behaved well there would be no memorable tales to tell. islendingasogur characters embody an intriguing mixture of qualities, which gives each individual his or her distinctiveness. If this were not so, and if good and bad characters were sharply contrasted so that it was always apparent which of them was in the right, as in most morality tales, then there would be little pleasure to be derived from reading such stories. The image of the ideal hero may hover overhead but, as in real life, individuals in their various ways fall short of this ideal, and some prove to be its exact opposite. Arrogance and aggression are always shown to be wrong, even when balanced by moments of heroic virtue; heroism works best when linked to moderation. Only then does a hero deserve the ultimate tribute-that of being described as drengr golJr [a good man].4 The three men discussed in this section, Halli Siguroarson, Helgi Droplaugarson and Vemundr Fringe, are all (so to say) stay-at-homes. Vemundr does go abroad early in the saga, but that journey proves to be just an extension of events at home, and we hear nothing of brave exploits in foreign lands or encounters with famous people. Yet such overseas adventures very often play an

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important part in creating the image of the hero in the islendingasogur. Nowhere is this clearer than in the sagas about poets where we see individuals who not only excel as skalds but who are also formidable fighting men. There is, however, no uniformity of personality amongst these poets; some fit the role of hero better than others. The saga of Bjorn Hitdoror Kolbeinsson in the middle of the saga. From the beginning of F6stbrceora saga, l>ormoor Kolbrunarskald is somewhat overshadowed by his foster-brother; his love life is undignified, and he seems more loyal to the memory of his fosterbrother l>orgeirr and Saint Olafr than to his female friends. Yet he proves himself to be a mighty warrior, and dies alongside his king Olafr Haraldsson in a flurry of memorable speeches and verses. The poets Gunnlaugr, Hallfreor and Kormakr each have a saga which tells of their lives and loves. All three of them are irreverent and incautious in speech and pay little heed to the situations in which they find themselves, or to the wishes of men wiser and more reasonable than themselves. They thus bear the responsibility for bringing troubles on themselves and on the women whom they love. Gunnlaugr exhibits various heroic qualities, but he lacks the steely will and steadfastness of a hero. Thus he hesitates when he has the opportunity to kill his adversary and dies as a result.6 The poets are most often flawed individuals with whom the reader readily sympathises, in spite of their senseless and even unforgivable behaviour. This is because the poets are all human, their mistakes are born of rashness, and though their emotions may overpower their judgement, their motives are not base. The poets and others who are verbally gifted earn our sympathy more easily than taciturn individuals because we are often able to engage with their thoughts and feelings. This is a far cry from figures such as Helgi Droplaugarson, Vemundr Fringe and Halli Siguroarson, and even Hrafnkell Freysgooi, who in the main are like closed books to us. We observe only the ambition and pride which drives them on, whereas the poets reveal their feelings in verses, even if

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the elaborate poetic packaging seems disproportionate

to the

emotional content. In a few sagas, of course, the author allows us a glimpse of the inner life of characters through some self-revelatory remark in prose. This is certainly the case in tragic sagas such as Laxdcela saga and Njdls saga. The reader is also able to come close to the outlaws Gfsli Sursson and Grettir Asmundarson through the poems which they compose as well as through their prose speeches. With their innermost thoughts and feelings revealed in this way,we see that these heroes are much less sure about the justification for their actions and much more fearful of fate than appears on the surface. On the other hand many characters in these sagas, and all characters in some sagas, seem remote from us despite our fascination with them and their predicaments. Sagas never attempt to analyse characters' thoughts and feelings in the way favoured by French chivalric romances, and which later became a common feature of many poets' sagas. This is, of course, an aspect of the objectivity which characterises saga narrative as a whole, and which can be seen in the extracts quoted throughout the present study. In the examples discussed thus far it is to be hoped that something of the multifaceted nature of islendingasogur heroism has emerged; the sagas have few uncomplicated heroes to remind us of the world of heroic poetry. The Eddic heroes are princely and seem larger than life because we rarely catch a glimpse of them in their daily comings and goings. Whilst the heroism of some islendingasogur figures seems as uncompromising as that of their Eddic counterparts, the greater domestication of their surroundings detracts from the overall heroic impression. Many other islendingasogur figures are imperfect or flawed heroes. It is clear, though, that a man's self-image in saga society is linked to his role as protector (by force if necessary) of his family and its honour, and with the need to increase that honour by feats which involved some form of fighting. The role of the male and the masculine is seen on the one hand in terms of martial virtues such as bravery, courage and skill with weapons, and on the other hand as a contrast to feminine values. The contrast in gender roles is most apparent in conventional ideas about sexual acts between a man and a woman, and this 146

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seems to have acted as some kind of model for defining the sexes, in that the passive role in sexual intercourse is associated with a lack of positive masculine attributes. The semantic fields of the Icelandic words argr/ragr, ergi/regi (homosexual! cowardly, homosexuality/cowardice) reveal the conceptual links between dissimilar phenomena, and both pairs of words denote male cowardice and homosexuality, especially the passive role in homosexual relations. They can also denote female promiscuity, especially amongst witches and enchantresses who were thought to engage in various kinds of sexual excess. This use of words shows that their meaning is rooted in sexuality and in the idea of the man as the active partner in sexual intercourse.7

Female Roles Women occupy a different space from men in the islendingasogur, and the importance of different gender roles runs right through the world of the sagas. It is the role of men to represent their families in interactions with others, as for example at Thing meetings, and they must protect the family honour, by force of arms if necessary. Men are responsible for their wives, sisters and, if the father is no longer alive, mothers. The farmers' wives, on the other hand, are in charge of household affairs. Men give women to other men in marriage, and it is not thought appropriate for a woman to be eager to marry in defiance of the wishes of her father or guardian. On the other hand it is thought right for a woman to be consulted in these matters, and it is not seen as sensible for a good woman to be married against her will. Women have the right to divorce their husbands but, as is the case when Unnr divorces Hnitr early in Njtils saga, the woman must have good cause, and such separations could be expected to lead to disputes over the division of assets. Unsurprisingly in a society where disputes are the province of men, the role of the woman is generally that of a passive victim linked to such disputes by the unwanted wooings and marriage proposals which she attracts. Yet there are also many active roles for saga women. Many wives, widows, or even just working women

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in the household playa part in events by their speeches of incitement, and they can be regarded as the voice of public opinion or of what might be termed the official ideology. This is the case with Hrafnkell's working woman who incites her master to action when Eyvindr Bjarnason rides past his homestead. Instances of women advocating peace and reconciliation are few and far between. One example is the woman who tells Moror about the fight between Gunnarr and Otkell at the Ranga river, and urges him (unavailingly as it turns out) to intervene. Recent research into the representation of women in Old Norse literature has identified four principal functions: warrior, sorceress, avenger and inciter Uochens 1996, 87-123).8 These roles can be traced back to heroic poetry and sagas, and also to mythology. We are not, of course, talking about direct correspondences with the roles which women performed in real life, and it is difficult to find any historical examples of women as warriors or avengers, though there must surely have been instances of this latter role. Women are much more likely to have engaged in both witchcraft and incitement, and it is just these roles which we find in the islendingasogur. The less dramatic functions of arbitrator, peacemaker and healer are probably rooted more in reality than literature (Agnes S. Arn6rsd6ttir 1995, 173-97). Though the feminine roles in the islendingasogur seem somewhat limited, there are nevertheless many memorable images of independent women. I>orbjorg the prophetess in Eiriks saga rau/Ja is probably the most famous sorceress in the sagas, no doubt because her magic arts are described in such detail. There are many examples of women as inciters. I>orgeror Egilsd6ttir in Laxd(1!la saga and I>urior her daughter in Hei/Jarviga saga enjoy an independent life in these works because of their memorable words when they urge on their sons to take vengeance, even though the presentation of I>urior has its comic side. In Njtils saga both Hallgeror and Bergp6ra often incite their menfolk to violence, though they also perform other functions. There is no more memorable example of the inciting woman than Hildigunnr's incitement scene in Njtils saga and there has been much illuminating discussion of these episodes (Clover 1986b).9 There are rather fewer saga women who try to stop conflicts, yet in Viga-Glums saga Viga148

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Glumr's wife Halld6ra binds the wounds of friend and foe alike and talks sense into her husband: It is said that Halldora, Glum's wife, summoned up her women"and we'll bind up the wounds of those who can be expected to live, whichever side they're on." But as she arrived Thorarin fell before Mar, and his shoulder was cut open so that the lungs fell out through the wound. But Halldora bound up his wound and sat over him until the battle was finished.

But after they had come home Glum said to Halldora, "Our expedition would have gone well today if you'd stayed at home, and Thorarin wouldn't have got away alive." She replied that Thorarin had little hope of recovery-"but you may be able to stay in the district for some little time even if he lives-but if he dies, you'll never be able to live at peace in Iceland again" (ch. 23; ii 303-304).

Another peace-loving wife is Auor of Mavahlio in Eyrbyggja saga. With the help of other women she tries to separate fighting men by throwing cloth onto their weapons, losing her hand in the process, but concealing her injury for as long as possible. The most memorable of the women who may be seen as passive in the face of male assertiveness are those beloved by the skaldic poets. It is poetry which has the power to preserve their beauty and allure. Indeed, even though it is the role of these women to serve as the passive objects of male desire and jealousy, Steingeror and Helga the Fair, the respective loves of Kormakr and Gunnlaugr Serpent-Tongue, prove to be women with minds and wills of their own, even though social custom places severe constraints on their lives, and even though their fickle lovers and domineering fathers bring about grim fates for them both (Meulengracht S0rensen 1988 and 1993a, 282-88). In Kormaks saga the first meeting between Kormakr the skald and Steingeror is unique in the islendingasogur. She cannot take her eyes off him and he immediately begins to compose verses about her beauty and the dangerous love which she arouses in him. With due decorum Steingeror does not speak of her love to Kormakr directly, but tells her maid-servant, knowing that he is 149

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able to overhear. The frequency of their meetings increases, but with Kormakr showing little inclination to propose marriage, Steingeror's father sends men to kill him, though Steingeror tries to stop this by physically restraining her father. Soon afterwards Steingeror suggests that Kormakr should seek her father's permission to marry her. However, when it comes to the crunch, Kormakr does not wish to marry her-a reluctance blamed on sorcery. Against her will Steingeror is now married to another man, but it is not long before, on her own initiative, she leaves her new husband. Then, "with no protest from her" (ch. 17; i 207) , she marries yet another man, I>orvaldr the Tinker. She believes that Kormakr has no intention of standing by his earlier pledges of love, and her pride is hurt. When Kormakr comes to talk with her and insults her husband, she reacts badly: "Mter that they parted with no friendliness, and Kormak went to the ship" (ch. 17; i 208). They subsequently live sad and strange lives: Kormakr can never stop thinking about Steingeror, and though she remains too proud to accept him, it is all too clear that she is unhappy in her marriage.10 The saga of Gunnlaugr Serpent-Tongue and Helga the Fair is closer to the pattern of conventional love stories. They fall in love while still very young, and at that point Helga is described as follows: Helga was so beautiful that learned men say that she was the most beautiful woman there has ever been in Iceland. She had so much hair that it could completely cover her body, and it was as radiant as beaten gold. It was thought that there was no match to equal Helga the Fair throughout Borgarfjord or in other places further afield (ch. 4; i 310).

Gunnlaugr is a good deal less perfect, both in appearance and temperament. His request for permission to marry Helga is somewhat abrupt, and it then transpires that she must remain unmarried while her suitor is away overseas for three years. When Gunnlaugr fails to reappear by the appointed time, Helga is given in marriage to Gunnlaugr's rival Hrafn, who in most respects seems a more promising figure than Gunnlaugr-"Helga did not like the arrangement at all", says the saga (ch. 9; i 321). Unhappy 150

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with his fate, Gunnlaugr does everything in his power to wreck the marriage, with the assistance of Helga. Readers of this saga have often overlooked the extent of Helga's strong-mindedness in the affair; yet, as Preben Meulengracht S0rensen has argued, she goes as far as she possibly can in her defiance of male authority (1988; see also MundaI1980). Some quotations may serve to confirm this; at the same time they show us that sagas occasionally pay closer attention to the emotional life of their characters than general descriptions of saga style suggest. Concerning the marriage of Helga and Hrafn: Most people say that the bride was rather gloomy. It is true that, as the saying goes, "things learnt young last longest", and that was certainly the case with her just then (ch. 11; i 323).

Shortly after the wedding Hrafn dreams that he is killed whilst lying in the arms of his wife-there was no need to bind his wounds-and she thought well of this. He speaks of his dream vision in a verse: "I will never weep over that," Helga said. "You have all tricked me wickedly. Gunnlaug must have come back." And then Helga wept bitterly. Indeed, a little while later, news came of Gunnlaug's return. Mter this Helga grew so intractable towards Hrafn that he could not keep her at home, and so they went back to Borg. Hrafn did not enjoy much intimacy with her (ch. 11; i 324).

Soon there was another wedding at which both Gunnlaugr and Helga were present: The women were sitting on the cross-bench, and Helga the Fair was next to the bride. She often cast her eyes in Gunnlaug's direction, and so it was proved that, as the saying goes, "if a woman loves a man, her eyes won't hide it" (ibid.).

People did not particularly enjoy the wedding feast. On the same day as the men were getting ready to leave, the women started to

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break up their party, too, and began getting themselves ready for the journey home. Gunnlaug went to talk to Helga, and they chatted for a long time ... And then Gunnlaug gave Helga the cloak Ethelred had given him, which was very splendid. She thanked him sincerely for the gift (ch. 11; i 324-25).

Hrafn never again enjoyed intimacy with Helga after she and Gunnlaug had met once more (ch. 11; i 326). It is clear that Helga goes her own way and has no respect for her marriage

or for what were considered

husband.

So it is that Hrafn

to be her obligations

and Gunnlaugr

Helga marries again. She has children

to her

kill each other

by her new husband,

and but it

is a loveless relationship: ... Helga went back home with him, although she did not really love him. She could never get Gunnlaug out of her mind, even though he was dead (ch. 13; i 332). Helga the Fair ends her life as she had lived it, faithful to her one and only love: Helga's greatest pleasure was to unfold the cloak which Gunnlaug had given her and stare at it for a long time ... One Saturday evening, Helga sat in the fire-room, resting her head in her husband Thorkel's lap. She sent for the cloak Gunnlaug's Gift, and when it arrived, she sat up and spread it out in front of her. She stared at it for a while. Then she fell back into her husband's arms, and was dead (ch. 13; i 332). Helga can be described

as the personification

of the loving (and

loved) woman. Society places severe restrictions

on her freedom

action, but she never allows herself to be cowed and remains to her love until she dies. The conventions such that the principal of the word)

events and deeds

of saga literature

(in the traditional

of the saga involve or are undertaken

have Gunnlaugr's

dealings

with the elder

152

are sense

by men: we

generation-Illugi

father, and Helga's father I>orsteinn of Borg-and

of

true

his

later we follow

ACTORS AND ACTIONS

Gunnlaugr's conflicts with Hrafn. When the actions of men in Gunnlaugs saga are considered, it is by no means easy to distinguish between events governed by ambition and honour on the one hand and love and jealousy on the other. It is clear that right up to the end of his life Gunnlaugr has great difficulty in controlling his arrogance, and yet he never dishonours Helga by rejecting her in the way that Kormakr had done with Steingeror. It is less clear whether Hrafn's willingness to sacrifice his honour by killing Gunnlaugr is caused by Gunnlaugr having humiliated him or by his own love for Helga. Such feelings are often difficult to disentangle. The sincerity of Helga's love is never in doubt, however: she is in the grip of a great romantic passion. No-one would claim that Gisla saga was primarily a love story, yet the relationship between men and women lies behind all the ill-fated events which the saga narrates. The saga certainly has the correct title because its principal narrative focus falls on the life and fate of Gfsli Sursson, except for the opening section which tells of his paternal uncle, also called Gfsli. Two women in Gisla saga are all-important-Gfsli's sister I>6rdfs, the agent of fate, and Auor Vesteinsd6ttir, his loyal wife. I>6rdfsis described as follows in the shorter version of the saga: "Their daughter was called I>6rdfs. She was the oldest of their children ... She was both good looking and wise." The saga says so little about I>6rdfs that there is no way of knowing for certain whether she may be held responsible for her brother Gfsli having to kill her suitors in defence of the family honour, nor do we know whether she was an accomplice of I>orgrfmr and I>orkell in arranging the killing of Vesteinn. We can hardly avoid sympathising with a woman whose husband is killed while lying in her arms in the marital bed. Thereafter she twice contributes fatefully and memorably to the saga's course of events. Firstly, she interprets a verse by Gfsli as signalling her brother's confession of guilt for I>orgrfmr's murder, and informs her husband Borkr, I>orgrfmr's brother, albeit some time after she first understood the verse, suggesting that her decision had not been an easy one.ll Secondly, it is clear that she endorses the archaic revenge ethic by which her brother lives when she tries to kill E)j6lfr the Grey and then divorces Borkr after Gfsli's death. In one

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of his verses, Gisli likens his sister to Guorun Gjukad6ttir, but feels that she lacks the steely strength of character of the Eddic heroine. The two Guorun figures certainly have much in common, as each is forced to choose between loyalty to brothers or the memory of a husband murdered by a brother while lying in her arms. Gisli expects his sister to behave like the Guorun of Atlakvioa, but in fact her mind is torn, like the image of Guorun in Eddic poetry overall. This mental conflict is discernible in the different versions of the saga, with I>6rdis's role seeming worse in the longer version.I2 Gisla saga pays more attention to the words and actions of Auor Vesteinsd6ttir than to those of I>6rdis,for all that she does not play the same key role in the plot. Auor is the ideal of the loyal and worthy wife, wholly supportive of her husband right up to his dying day. There are opportunities for her to demonstrate this loyalty, as when she refuses bribes from Eyj6lfr the Grey, strikes him on the nose with the money bag, and says, famously: "remember, you wretch, for as long as you live, that a woman has struck you" (ch. 32; ii 41). Her support for Gisli during his last stand is, however, to no avail. Her actions are severely limited by the ideas of a maledominated society; within those limits she behaves blamelessly. Bergp6ra Skarpheoinsd6ttir in Nj6ls saga is another wife who has the opportunity to show loyalty towards her husband, yet she is also one of those women who believe that the honour of husbands and sons is more important than their lives, and so she incites them remorselessly when she feels that honour demands it. There are many examples in the sagas of women exercising special power over aspects of reality hidden from mortal eye, areas in which men are powerless. This is especially the case with sorcery and prophecy.I3 I>orbjorg the Little Sibyl in Eiriks saga rauoa is amongst the most memorable of these women, and when she needs assistance she looks to another woman, GuoriOr I>orbjarnard6ttir, from whom bishops were descended. The special gifts of these women are by no means condemned in the sagas, provided that they are exercised in a good cause. The distinction is clear in Eyrbyggja saga when we see the witchcraft of Katla of Holt, assisted by her son Oddr, which proves to be the cause of much evil. She finds herself competing for the attentions of a gifted pupil with GeirriOr of Mavahlio, a benevolent woman knowledgeable in 154

ACTORS AND ACTIONS

magic. The affair ends with victory for Geirrior, but men are powerless in the face of Kada's magic (Vesteinn Olason 1989a). In Egils saga and Njrils saga the roles of witch and promiscuous woman are not assigned to lower-class or vagrant women. Instead we first meet Gunnhildr the kings' mother, who is a source of evil in both sagas and does not shrink from witchcraft. The sagas attribute this to her Lapland origins, and to the supernatural gifts traditionally associated in ancient writings with the Finns (the Lapps). In Egils saga Gunnhildr's behaviour appears to be driven by her arrogance and hostility towards those unwilling to submit to her will and that of the king. In Njrils saga sexual jealousy leads her to initiate a chain of evil through her sorcery. Nevertheless she is presented as being every inch a queen. The author seems to admire the independent-mindedness of this sensual woman, and there are extenuating circumstances for her punishment of Hrutr who had remained silent about his bride-to-be back in Iceland (Dronke 1981b, 5-11; O'Donoghue 1992). The author of Njrils saga also discretely connects Hallgeror Long-Breeches with the world of subversive women, though she is quite unlike Kada of Holt and much less fortunate than Gunnhildr the kings' mother. Hallgeror comes to the saga from the outside, from another part of Iceland, and with a problematic past as the person who not only brought about the death of her first husband but who was the inadvertent cause of the fateful demise of the second. Just as Njall predicts, she proves to be a source of much ill luck. Though not a witch, she becomes connected with such women by her instigation of a theft from another farm, thus fulfilling her kinsman Hrutr's prophecy about her thief's eyes. Yet Hallgeror is such a complex individual, endowed with many gifts, that she can hardly be grouped with a random assortment of vagrants. Though Skarpheoinn calls her a whore on her last appearance in the saga, and though it is said that she is by then having a relationship with Viga-Hrappr Orgumleioason, the saga allows the reader to reject this idea as merely gossip or mischief-making. Hallgeror is a beautiful woman from a noble family, once unhappily and once happily married before she enters into her problematic marriage with Gunnarr. For all that she plays a fateful role in the lives of her husbands, she seems also the plaything ofa malign fate. She 155

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is a good example of that very familiar islendingasogur phenomenon, the individual in whom good and evil co-exist, and with whom it remains largely a matter of good or bad luck as to which element achieves ultimate control. Hallgeror's marriage to Glumr is presented in a positive light, and the reader is willing to believe that things would have turned out well for her during the rest of her life had not bad fortune chosen to intervene in the form of I>j6st6lfr.Hallgeror is a very proud woman, as was her great-greatgrandmother Dnnr the Deep-Minded. When her pride is wounded she stops at nothing and the seeds of misfortune are planted. Njall's gloomy prophecy, and Bergp6ra's icy welcome when Hallgeror first visits her (which can probably be explained in terms of Hallgeror's past and Njall's dark suspicions), are just as much links in the fateful chain of events as Hallgeror's own actions (Einar 01. Sveinsson 1971, 117-37; Dronke 1981b, 14-31; O'Donoghue 1992). She represents woman as an elemental life force, and at the same time Eve, from whom, in the medieval world view, all evil flowed (Helga Kress 1977; Heinrichs 1994). The fundamental point is that Hallgeror is a complex literary creation defying easy categorisation. Though the words and deeds of islendingasogur women often result in evil, the women themselves rarely act outrageously except through their witchcraft. Freydis Eiriksd6ttir in Gramlendinga saga is an exception. Not content with fomenting evil with her lies, she performs wicked works with the weapons she wields. It is as if the confrontation with an alien land and people releases malign forces in her, and the saga offers no explanation. Freydis's malevolence grows more intense as the focus of the saga shifts continuously between her and Guoriour l>orbjarnard6ttir, who in both Gramlendinga saga and Eirz'kssaga rauoa is praised above all other women and may be regarded as the saga's principal character, as with Guorun Osvifrsd6ttir in Laxdcela saga. (Conroy 1980; Olafur Halld6rsson 1985,340-41).

Heroism Reversed-Injustice

and Evil

As we have noted already with Helgi Droplaugarson, 156

the bounda-

ACTORS AND ACTIONS

ries between heroes and villains in the islendingasogur are not alwaysclearly drawn. Yet it is clear that injustice alwaysleads to evil, and when someone is introduced as an 6jafnaoarmaor [an overbearing man], in the islendingasogur there is every reason to suppose that he will bring trouble in his wake. A striking example of this is 1>0rolfrLame-Foot in Eyrbyggja saga. He is in fact the father of Arnkell the Chieftain, a hero sympathetically portrayed in the saga, but this is no case of "like father like son". 1>0rolfris introduced as follows: ... their son was called Thorolf. He was a zealous viking. He arrived in Iceland sometime after his mother and stayed with her for the first winter. Thorolf considered his mother's land inadequate and challenged Ulfar the Champion for his land, inviting him to a duel because Ulfar was old and useless. Ulfar would rather have died than be cowed by Thorolf. They fought a duel at Alftafjord and Ulfar was killed, but Thorolf was wounded in the leg and always walked with a limp after that. He became known as Lame-foot because of it. Thorolf established a farm at Hvamm in Thorsardal. He took over Ulfar's lands and was a great trouble-maker (ch. 8; v 135-36).

1>0rolfris here described as if he were one of the berserks often spoken of in the islendingasogur who bully their way through Norway or other countries, winning land, goods, and women through challenges to single combat. Icelandic heroes, Egill Skalla-Grimsson and Grettir Asmundarson among them, frequently prove their heroism by confronting and killing such individuals. 1>0rolfr Lame-Foot behaves like a berserk, respecting neither the law nor the rights and property of other people. Like other evil individuals, age does nothing to mellow 1>0rolfr,as the saga succinctly states: "Now we turn back to Thorolf Lame-foot. He began to age quickly, growing more ill-natured, violent and unjust with the years" (ch. 30; v 167). 1>0rolfr dies of old age and bad temper, sitting on his high-seat, and the violence was even worse after he died than when he was alive (Vesteinn Olason 1971). There are many people like 1>0rolfrin the post-classical sagas. Amongst them we find 1>0rbjorn I>jooreksson in Hrivaroar saga isfiroings, who is aggressive towards his neighbours and rewards 157

SAGA WORLDS

good with evil; there is Klaufi Bag in Svarfda!la saga, whose somewhat strange and sad life was followed by a colourful and eventful after-life as a ghost. One of the most detailed accounts of an unjust man who without provocation bullies lesser men in his neighbourhood is that which tells of Viga-Styrr in the first part of Heioarviga saga, a section only extant in J6n Olafsson's eighteenth-century retelling based on a lost manuscript. Well-deserved retribution is at hand for Styrr, however, for he is killed by a young boy from a poor household, the son of one of his former victims. He then continues to terrorise the community as a ghost, as was to be expected, and his ill-deeds create a sequence of unhappy events culminating in the killings on the heath. Viga-Styrr and Moror Valgarosson are the most socially prominent of the islendingasogur characters described as being wholly evil; more often such wicked figures are of lowly social status. Heroic qualities are not in themselves class-based in the world of the islendingasogur, yet it is clearly men from the chieftain class or from the ranks of wealthy farmers who are most richly endowed with them. An exception to this rule is the attention given to the bravery of small farmers or tenants like Ingjaldr of Hergilsey. It is Ingjaldr who utters the famous words: "My clothes are so poor that it would be no great griefifI stopped wearing them out. I'd rather die than not do all I can to keep Gisli from harm" (Gisla saga, ch. 26; ii 33). Yet even Ingjaldr comes from a good family, and was a kinsman of Gisli. Hen-1>6rir is an anti-hero of a quite different type from 1>6r61fr Twistfoot and Viga-Styrr, and there is a whole saga named after him, even though it is hardly possible to claim that the work sets out to promote his good name. He is described as follows at the beginning of the saga: There was a man named Thorir, who once was poor and not very wellliked by most people. In the summers he had gone on trading trips between districts,sellingin one what he had bought in another. In a short time he had accumulated a great deal of wealth from his dealings. One time, when Thorir travelled from the south over the heath he took poultry with him on his trip around the north country and sold them along with other items, and for this reason he became known as Hen-Thorir. 158

ACTORS AND ACTIONS

After a while Thorir had earned so much that he bought himself land at a place called Vatn above Nordurtunga. He had farmed only a few years before he became so wealthy that he had large sums of money lent out to almost everyone. Even though he had accumulated a great deal of money, his lack of popularity continued, so that there was scarcely a man more detested than was Hen-Thorir (ch. 1;

v 240). It seems as though I>6rirbegan life as a labourer before he took up peddling. Whether because of his modest social background, or his innate malice and lack of honour, I>6rir proved to be the worst possible sort of man. He tries to purchase honour for himself by offering to foster a worthy boy in the neighbourhood. This move certainly helped his situation, but did nothing for his general reputation: "he was still considered unpopular," says the saga. It so happens that the trail of misfortune begins when this industrious merchant refuses to sell his wares, though he has plenty of them, and though he is offered the best prices. It is as if his wickedness overrides his commercial good sense, and after this he is unstoppable until the home of Blund-Ketill is burned down; Blund-Ketill is an admirable chieftain and neighbour who dies in the flames. I>6rireventually pays the price for this crime, and dies a deservedly ignominious death.14 Hen-I>6rir has nothing in common with flawed figures like Vemundr Fringe or Halli Siguroarson; he is simply a dishonourable villain. Not unlike him is Skammkell as depicted in Njals saga, for all that he has a very different role in the story. Though he acts as a counsellor, he invariably gives bad advice which leads to trouble. We learn nothing about his family background, but he is described as follows on his first appearance in the saga: "There was a man named Skammkel. He lived at the other farm called Hof and had a lot of property. He was malicious and untrustworthy, overbearing and vicious to deal with" (ch. 47; iii 55). This description proves to be all too accurate, and Skammkell plays a significant part in the events leading up to the death of Gunnarr of Hlfoarendi, though he himself dies in the process. We read of his fall in the saga's description of the battle at the Ranga: Skammkel ran up behind Gunnar and swung a great axe at him.

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Gunnar turned quickly to face him and struck the underside of the blade with his halberd; the axe flew out of his hand and out into the Ranga river. Gunnar went at him with the halberd a second time and thrust it right through Skammkel and lifted him into the air and threw him head first on the clay path (ch. 54; iii 65).

Villains such as Hen-:P6rir and Skammkell play influential roles in their sagas, though they pay for their actions with their lives, but no special explanations of their behaviour are given, any more than we are offered explanations for Iago's apparently motiveless malignity in Othello. It is simply part of their nature. The same is presumably true of men such as Moror Valgarosson, whose malevolence is deeply rooted. His opposition to Gunnarr can be explained in terms of jealousy and an inferiority complex, and his part in the killing of Hoskuldr Hvitanesgooi and in the subsequent death of Njall's sons in terms ofa power struggle (Miller 1983). Yet such rationalisations fail to do justice to the scale and extent of the evil. On the other hand Moror comes from a noble family and is highly intelligent, in this respect quite unlike Skammkell and Hen:P6rir;but he willingly devotes his talents and social standing to the promotion of evil. The saga needs such a figure to act as a contrast to its peace-loving and benevolent characters: Njall, Hoskuldr Hvitanessgooi and Hallr of Sioa. It is a mark of the narrative artistry of the finest sagas such as Njals saga that the villains and troublemakers are depicted in such a varied and distinctive way. In addition to the characters already mentioned, there is :Pj6st6Ifr, Hallgeror's foster-father, whose predatory temperament has "something of the night" about it, and who is insatiably jealous over his foster-daughter's husbands; and there is Viga-Hrappr who is as deft at extricating himself from trouble as he is reckless in causing it. He is a great womaniser, and has a witty tongue, but is a constant source of evil for others (Einar 61. Sveinsson 1971, 100-102). Characters of this sort are less clearly drawn and striking in other sagas, where they are mostly the underlings of substantial figures, as with Vakr :P6rdisarson, one of the household of the troublemaking :Porbjorn of Laugab61 in Havaroar saga isfiroings. Vakr is described as follows on his first appearance in the saga: "He was small and puny, abusive and 160

ACTORS AND ACTIONS

foul-mouthed, and repeatedly goaded his uncle Thorbjorn, who behaved even worse. Yak became unpopular for this, and people spoke of him as he deserved" (ch. 1; v 314). Vakr's subsequent progress in the saga is very much in line with this description, and his eventual death is comic.

Caricature The sagas distinguish between men who are evil and those who are miserably insignificant even though the two qualities sometimes go together, as with Hen-I>orir and Skammkell; but being foolish and feeble can seem more comic than being wicked. It is sometimes the case that a person who seems totally without honour proves himself to be worthy when put to the test. In Hdvaroar saga isfiroings Atli behaves thoroughly disreputably; he is mean, cowardly, and dresses in a ridiculous fashion. The old man Havaror had himself behaved ignobly when his son was killed, lying in bed for three years. Yet both of them are transformed as if by magic when the moment arises, abandoning their former waysand showing great courage. The caricatured presentation of these men seems all the clearer when we see them chivvied and chased by their resourceful womenfolk. Reading such sagas prompts the thought that they may have been conceived as parodies (Halldor Guomundsson 1990). Humour of a more subtle and ambiguous character can be found in the account of Bjorn of Mark in Njdls saga. He is not considered a great man but is married to a woman from a good family and lives a rather hen-pecked life, like Atli in Otradalr and Havaror. Bjorn dreams of future glory and finds himself in a position to make those dreams come true when Kari Solmundarson asks him for shelter and support. We might now expect Bjorn to prove either that he is indeed the stuff of which heroes are made or that he really is a weakling. In fact neither happens. Bjorn seeks shelter behind Kari but as things turn out he emerges from the whole affair with a measure of honour. The saga's masterly characterisation of Bjorn has been illuminatingly discussed by several scholars.I5 We find an ambiguous attitude towards heroism and a clear 161

SAGA WORLDS

sense of the comic aspects of excessively heroic behaviour in the description of l>orgeirr Havarsson in Fostbrreora saga. l>orgeirr is certainly a great fighter but his insatiable hunger for conflict often seems absurd, and the saga's style and humorous digressions support such a reading.16 The cowardice and essential lack of nobility amongst the slaves and servants is not in itself unheroic, for no-one should expect heroism from such lowly people. First and foremost cowardice is comic, especially when it goes hand in hand with stupidity. So terrified are Arnkell the Chieftain's slaves in byrbyggja saga when an attack is expected that one of them, Ofeigr, flees up a mountain and rushes headlong into a waterfall where he drowns. The others duly forget the message with which they have been entrusted and on whose safe delivery the life of their master depends, and return to their normal work; they only recover their senses when men ask about Arnkell, by which time it is too late to help him. There is another comic episode in the same saga involving Egill, a slave from Nftafjoror who was unlucky and stupid rather than cowardly. A whole life story is set out in just a few words: He was the biggest and strongest of men, and wasunhappy with his life as a slave,and often asked Thorbrand and his sons to give him his freedom, offering to do whatever he could to earn it (ch. 43; v 184).

Egill takes on the task of killing Bjorn the Breiovfk Champion and approaches his homestead: [Egill] had tasselled shoe-laces,as was the custom then, and one of the laces had become untied so that the tassel trailed along the ground. The slavewent into the entrance hall of the shed. When he went into the main hall, he wanted to move silently because he could see Bjorn and Thord sitting by the fire, and Egil felt it would only be a little while before he earned for himself everlasting freedom. But when he went to step across the threshold, he trod on the loose tassel.When he tried to step forward with his other foot, the tassel held fast causing him to trip, and he fell forward onto the floor of the hall. There was a huge thud as if the skinned carcassof a cow had been thrown down onto the floor.

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Thord leapt up and asked what enemy was there. Bjorn leapt up too and grabbed hold of Egil before he could get to his feet, and asked him who he was. "It's Egil here, Bjorn, my friend," he said. "Who is this Egil?" Bjorn asked. "Egil from Alftafjord," he replied ... Then they put fetters on Egil's feet. In the evening when people had come back to the shed, Egil recounted how his journey was meant to have turned out, in full hearing of everyone. He stayed there that night, but the next morning they led him up the mountain pass, which is now known as Egilsskard, and there they killed him (ch. 43; v 185-86). As in a number of other places the saga plays here with the con-

trast between Egill's self-image and the cold reality revealed by events (Vesteinn Olason 1971). There is little of Egill the warrior when he addresses Bjorn as his friend. The cowardice of another Egill, this time Fool-Egill, receives similarly ironic treatment in F6stbrmorasaga. Humour of a rather cynical kind is directed at other levels of society than servants and the lower ranks of farmers. We have already looked at the heavily ironic description of Guomundr the Powerful in Lj6svetninga saga, with Guomundr quite unable to fulfil the role of the great chieftain which he considers himself to be because he lacks the requisite courage and intelligence. No less ironic is the caricaturing of the chieftains in Bandamanna saga. They fail to see through the crafty old Ofeigr's trickery as he plays each chieftain off against the others, and naked greed causes them to make fools of themselves. They emerge as comic figures because of the yawning gap between the honour normally due to people of such high social status, and their unscrupulous attempts to better their impoverished lot. The image of the elderly Ofeigr is also comic in another sense: for all his ridiculous appearance he proves to be far more capable and cunning than might have been expected. The comedy reaches its climax in the account of the dealings between Ofeigr and Egill Skulason at Borg. The preliminaries of this meeting are described as follows: One day old Ofeig walked away from his booth with a lot on his

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mind. He could see no one likely to help him and thought he had a great deal to contend with, for he could scarcely see how he could cope on his own against such powerful men, when there was no legal defence to be made in the case. He walked bent at the knees, wandering and stumbling between the booths for a long time, until he came at length to the booth of Egil Skulason (ch. 8; v 295).

To begin with Egill behaves arrogantly but Ofeigr takes the wind out of his sails by convincing him that there is much less likelihood of winning a fortune in compensation from Oddr than he and his fellows suppose, and that Oddr will eventually seek revenge, and that they will end up with nothing but shame and loss from the . case. It becomes clear that the bonds of friendship holding the confederates together are fragile, and that Egill himself will shed few tears even if some of his allies are humiliated. Ofeigr now begins to play on Egill's feelings as if on a musical instrument: "It will all turn out for the best," Ofeig said. "They will get their deserts and be widely condemned for this affair. But I think it would be a shame if you didn't come out of this well, because I like you better than any of your confederates." As he spoke he let a well-rounded moneybag drop into sight below his cape. Egil spotted it at once, and when Ofeig saw that, he quickly pulled the bag back up out of sight. "As 1was saying, Egil," he said, "I think things will turn out pretty much as I've told you. Now I'd like to offer you a token of my respect." Then he pulled out the moneybag and emptied the silver out into the lap of Egil's cloak; it came to two hundreds of the finest silver obtainable. "This is for you as a little token of my regard-if you don't oppose me in this business." "You're no average rogue!" replied Egil. "You can't expect me to be willing to break my oath" (ch. 8; v 298).

Egill understands the irony in Ofeigr's words but keeps the way open for an understanding and it is not long before they agree how best to proceed with the case. Egill keeps the silver. The comic highlight in Bandamanna saga is a flyting scene at the Thing where Ofeigr exchanges words with several members of the 164

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chieftain fellowship, whilst Egill assumes the role of Loki in Lokasenna; these flyting exchanges are full of stinging mockery. The comedy in Bandamanna saga creates a sequence of caricatures of very different individuals, though naturally the caricatures themselves are lightly drawn (see further p. 185). We have seen clearly that characters are not only described directly by the saga author, but also reveal themselves through their own words and deeds. They perform particular roles and represent particular values, yet each character has his or her individuality. On the other hand minor characters are rarely individualised and are defined in terms of a single function. All such figures, in major as well as minor roles, are somewhat distanced from the modern reader because of the objectivity of narrative method. The deeds of saga characters are for the most part comprehensible in terms of the ideology governing the sagas, but an individual's thoughts and feelings remain hidden from us. Some of the characters who exercise most influence on the outcome of events reveal more about their feelings, sometimes in verse (see pp. 126-27), and thus project an inner life which is more than the sum of their speeches and actions. But the reader has the problem of how to interpret this inner life and its influence on characters' behaviour. There is good reason to be wary about applying to the sagas the insights of modern psychology, which would have seemed quite alien to people during the Middle Ages. In human life as they viewed it, it would have seemed quite natural to judge people in the light of ideas about courage, nobility and other traditional virtues and vices, and likewise in terms of good and bad fortune. Similarly it would have been natural to believe that it was great and dramatic events which helped to make life worthwhile. We should note that it was new Christian concepts about the individual and morality, about sin and conscience, that served to concentrate attention on man's free will, on his duty to control his base instincts, and thus on his inner life. Such ideas did not necessarily overwhelm earlier medieval attitudes, but they did draw attention to the many contradictions in the behaviour of men, and were thus able to deepen the understanding of the human condition. Characterisation is inextricably linked to morality. 165

Ideology and Morality

Values and Norms A good deal has been written about the moral vision of the islendingasogur and the mindset which they reveal. Ideas are not presented as abstractions in the sagas, but appear rather as powerful forces at work in the life and actions of individuals. Characters act in accordance with clear moral principles, whether these are unspoken or partly articulated, and we must identify the way they think from what they say and do. In discussing these moral principles, we are of course at liberty to remove them from their specific contexts for analysis, but the following discussion seeks to examine them in context. This also enables us to take a look at several saga scenes not discussed thus far, and hence to underline further the variety of character and incident to be found in the islendingasogur corpus. In discussing saga plots we have seen the importance of honour and the obligations imposed on individuals by a vengeance culture. A work such as Gisla saga Surssonarillustrates memorably the burden imposed on men by the demands of honour and retribution. In defining the moral framework within which men live, make decisions, and are judged, we need to remember that emotions such as love and jealousy, envy and wounded pride are woven into stories whose governing themes are honour and shame, or good and bad luck. These themes feature prominently in Laxda!la saga where, as in many other sagas, there is a strong sense that misfortune can invade the lives of those who have least reason to expect it. It can derive from various sources, amongst them an individual's temperament, as we will see when examining the description of Grettir in his saga. Good and bad luck are amongst the most important concepts governing men's actions in the islendingasogur, and the same forces lie at the heart of characters' under166

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standings of their own lives. In investigating these issues we are really investigating saga characters' ideas about destiny.17

Honour and Vengeance-Gisli Sursson We have examined in several contexts the concept of honour inscribed in the islendingasogur-the way in which it is central to any individual's self-respect, and also the way in which it can be worth more than life itself. Inextricably linked to honour is the obligation to take revenge when there is no other way of satisfying wounded honour; at the same time we have seen that there are constraints as people are encouraged to exercise moderation in the promotion and protection of their honour. But this balance is difficult to strike, and external factors-the actions of others and an individual's own morality-can lead a man who is not normally aggressive to act in ways certain to lead to misfortune. Gisli Sursson is such a man. His saga is a tragedy because conflicts arise between individuals so closely linked that all options seem equally unappealing. Vengeance is bound to hurt the avenger himself. When still a young man in Norway, Gisli is forced by his father and by his own sense of honour to kill an acquaintance. The man is a frequent visitor to I>6rdis, Gisli's sister; the father disapproves of this and urges Gisli to kill him, which he does, though only after the man refuses to' change his ways. There are differences between versions of the saga at this point, but in the longer redaction Gisli's reluctance to kill the man is made particularly clear. Gisli falls out with his brother I>orkell, who is a friend of the dead man. This fraternal disagreement shows that Gisli's reaction to his father's incitement is not the only one possible, yet at the same time conventional concepts of honour clearly demand that Gisli acts as he did. His father is a spokesman for the honour and vengeance culture and, viewing the saga as a whole, it is hard to avoid the conclusion that Gisli behaves quite properly and does what family honour demands. I>orkell is the lesser man, as subsequent events confirm. Later in the saga Gisli is twice confronted by even more taxing demands imposed by the ideals of honour. These highlight its

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essentially contradictory nature and the tragic consequences which can arise when ill-luck touches events. On the first occasion, Gfsli's foster-brother and brother-in-law Vesteinn is murdered in secret, and though he has no proof, Gfsli is certain that responsibility for the deed rests with his brother l>orkell, and that his brother-in-law l>orgrfmr, husband of l>6rdfs, must be the killer. Gfsli feels under an obligation to avenge his foster-brother and so carries out another secret killing, this time of l>orgrfmr whilst he lies in the dark in the arms of his wife, Gfsli's sister. l>6rdfsexposes her brother later in the saga after he confesses to the killing in a verse which she overhears and interprets. Fateful consequences ensue: Gfsli is condemned to outlawry, lives like a hunted animal for years on end, and is finally killed. There is no indication in the text that he ever regrets having killed l>orgrfmr or, if we may put it this way,that "the saga" considers him to have behaved improperly. Those who pursue him during his years of outlawry are shown to be thoroughly disreputable people. There is sympathy for l>6rdfs in exposing Gfsli, and she subsequently attempts to avenge his death, thereby demonstrating her belief that by his outlawry her brother has atoned in full for killing her husband. Though the saga never condemns Gfsli for killing l>orgrfmr, there is a sense that the demands of vengeance can become so outrageous that it would be wrong to accede to them. To the sons of Vesteinn, the killing of l>orgrfmr seems insufficient, and the boys kill l>orkell Sursson. They escape and seek out Auor, their paternal aunt, and Gfsli her husband, who are both hiding at a remote location. Auor welcomes the boys warmly, but prevents them from meeting Gfsli. The saga then continues: Now, the story turns to Aud. She went to Gisli and said, "Now, it means a great deal to me how you will act and whether you choose to honour me more than 1 deserve." He answered her quickly, "I know you are going to tell me of my brother Thorkel's death." "It is so," said Aud, "and the lads have come and want to join up with you. They feel they have no one else to rely on." Gisli answered, "I could not bear to see my brother's killers or to be with them," and he jumped up and went to draw his sword as he

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spoke this verse [in which he threatens to avenge porkell by killing those who killed him]. Aud told him that they had already left-"for I had sense enough not to risk their tarrying here." Gfslisaid it wasbetter that they did not meet (ch. 30; ii 38).18 Though it seems likely that long before the saga was put together in its present form stories had been told about the main events of Gislasaga-the secret killings in Haukadalr, and the outlawry and death of Gisli-it is much less clear that the killing of :Porkell was originally part of such tales. Even if it had been, it is reasonable to believe that the scene as described above is the author's creation. In the narrative material with which he works he finds an inherent admiration for a man such as Gisli who adheres to the traditional vengeance code, even in such heart-wrenching circumstances, and who later pays a high price for having done so. Yet admiration for the vengeance culture is not unconditional; there is no glorification of vengeance as such, and there is an awareness of its potentially terrible consequences. Accordingly the author provides Gisli with the opportunity to take a further step along the road of vengeful extremism. Though strong feelings urge him to avenge his brother, good sense prevails, and he is happy to let matters stand, but the listener or reader has no doubt that Gfsli would have thought nothing of chasing and killing Vesteinn's sons had he really wanted to. By doing so, however, he would have severed his last links with humanity, notably with his wife Auor, and he would have killed the sons of the very man for whom he had sacrificed everything in his pursuit of vengeance. Such is the dismal fate stalking these families that at the end of the saga Gfsli's brother later kills one ofVesteinn's two boys. Some present-day readers have found Gisli's inflexible adherence to the demands of vengeance unsympathetic, but they have rarely given Gisli credit for his own recognition that revenge has its limits. We should bear in mind that the killing of Vesteinn is a shameful act and that Gisli must view it as completely without justification. Accordingly he cannot tolerate the idea of allowing such a deed to stand unavenged, and contrives to kill :Porgrimr, thereby relieving his brother :Porkell of the responsibility. It seems

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unnecessary to believe, as some scholars have suggested, that Gisli derived any perverse pleasure from killing l>orgrimr. Yet the description of this killing is so powerful, its atmosphere so emotionally charged, that it is hardly surprising that such thoughts have been entertained.19 If our only sources of information about Gisli's feelings were his own statements (in prose) and his actions, then the modern reader could be excused for regarding him as some kind of automaton, lacking all warmth of human feeling, and ever on the look-out for further opportunities to exact blood vengeance; but a careful reading of the saga hardly supports such an interpretation. There is more to be said about his thoughts and feelings than stands in the prose. Gisli is in fact depressed because of the bloodstained life which he has led, and because of the fate which awaits him. In his dreams and his poetry he steps out of the world of actions, as it were, and into the area occupied by supernatural forces and by fate. The power of fate is signalled early in Gisla saga. Mter the brothers and sisters have settled down and married in Iceland, the saga tells of a journey to the Thing made by Gisli and l>orkell, accompanied by Gisli's brother-in law Vesteinn and by l>orgrimr, l>ordis's husband. The saga states that people at the Thing greatly admired this lively and colourful group. Then Gestr Oddleifsson, a soothsayer who appears in many sagas, announces fate's verdict: "Three summers from now, the men in that party will no longer see eye to eye" (ch. 6; ii 6). As usual word of this prophecy gets around and Gisli tries to defYfate by proposing that all four men should enter into a sworn brotherhood. They cut out a long strip of turf, making sure that both ends are still attached to the ground. They pass underneath it and blood is drawn from each individual and mixed with soil. They swear an oath, which they call on the gods to witness, that each will avenge the other as if they were brothers. Everything unravels when l>orgrimr withdraws his assent at the last moment, feeling that too much is being asked of him in the proposal that he should bind himself to Vesteinn, a man to whom he was under no obligation. Gisli interprets this refusal as a confirmation of fate's power: "I suspect fate will take its course now" (ibid. 7). The event which sets in motion the sub170

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sequent grim chain of events-the conversation between Gisli's wife Auor and Asgeror, I>orkell's wife, about Asgeror's love for Wsteinn-causes Gisli again to reflect on the forces ruling his life: "Fate must find someone to speak through. Whatever is meant to happen will happen" (ibid. 10). The saga's plot is, thus, very much subject to fate and governed by forces beyond the power of individuals. Supernatural forces impact again on the saga when the sorcerer I>orgrimr Nose casts a spell on I>orgrimr's killer so that nothing would go well for him. It can thus be said that all events conspire against Gisli-powerful opponents, fate and sorcery. The saga turns on how individuals confront the burden of fate, living in accordance with their conscience and fighting for their lives until the bitter end, no matter how powerful the forces which they have to confront, and no matter how awful their fate must be. No saga shows better than Gisla saga just how heavy such a burden can be. Compared to the laws inscribed in the consciousness of the individual, the laws and judgements of society count for little, and no attempts are ever made to pay compensation for the various killings in the saga. Gisli is sentenced to outlawry in his absence and the court case is only briefly described in the saga. As an outlaw his thoughts are with the judgements of fate rather than of society. As such Gisla saga is wholly unlike Njtils saga; it is more old-fashioned and less socially aware. Njtils saga is also much concerned with evil, with unconquerable fate and with how men confront these forces, but the saga lays great emphasis on settlements, laws, and judgements which seem to represent man's only hope of defeating evil, for all that it is a hope which is ultimately dashed. At the same time that Gisli is outlawed his dreams begin and so does the poetry which accompanies them. Two dream women visit him alternately while he sleeps; one is benevolent and brings him a Christian message; the other is malevolent and speaks the words of fate, the judgement from which no man may escape. Through the dreams, and the verses which Gisli composes, the author offers us an insight into the hero's thoughts and feelings which cannot be achieved in any other way.20Gisli shows no remorse for what he has done; but he seems conscious of his terrible fate in having to live a life dedicated to blood-letting-first the blood of others and, 171

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eventually, his own. This is movingly expressed in dream vision and verse: "Then in a second dream," he said, "this woman came to me and tied a blood-stained cap on my head, and before that she bathed my head in blood and poured it all over me, covering me in gore." And he spoke a verse: I dreamt a dream of her, woman of the serpent's lair. She washed my hair in Odin's fire [blood] spilled from the well of swords. [wound] And it seemed to me those hands of the ring-goddess, [woman] blood-red, were bathed and drenched in gold-breakers gore. [man]

Then he spoke another verse: I thought I felt how the valkyrie's hands, dripping with sword-rain, [blood] placed a bloody cap upon my thickly grown, straight-cut locks of hair. That is how the thread-goddess [woman] woke me from my dream (ch. 33; ii 42).

Gfsli's verses say much about the thoughts uppermost in his mind and about his relations with other people. He refers to his guilt (v. 34), compares his sister I>6rdfs to Guorun Gjukad6ttir and feels that she has let him down (v. 11); he refers often to the love of his wife (w. 27, 31, 37, 39); and, lastly, he mentions his father-"I greet the sword's honed edge / that bites into my flesh, / knowing that this courage / was given me by my father" (v. 39), thereby associating his own fate with fundamental paternal values, and with every man's obligation to defend his own honour and that of his family. The dreams exert a powerful influence on Gfsli as the verses reveal, and as the following statement confirms: "Gisli began to have so many dreams that he became very frightened of the dark

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and dared not be alone any longer. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the same woman" (ch. 33; ii 42). Gisla saga highlights the old belief in fate and shows a man who remains faithful to the old ethical system. The saga does not try to minimise the terrible consequences of his actions; yet there is no suggestion that he could have changed his ways significantly and still been as great a man, staring fate straight in the eye. It may well be that the Christian author of this saga has identified the power of evil in what happens to Gisli Sursson and his family, the power of Satan over heathens; yet it also appears that he greatly admires Gisli and his strength of character, seeing him as a man who retains his human dignity in a world which is or was governed byevi1.21

Conflicting Fortunes-Fate

and Action in Laxdorlaksson 1992. 254

NOTES

8 On Lj6svetninga saga see especially Bjorn M. Olsen 1937-39, 366--89, Mager0Y 1969, Danielsson 1986,24-37, Andersson and Miller 1989. 9 On the two worlds of the outlaw-the civilised and the wild-and on the marginal spaces in between, see for example Hastrup 1985 (especially pp. 136--54) and 1986, Amory 1992, Breisch 1994, 133-43. 10 On ReykdtZla saga see especially Liest011928, Bjorn M. Olsen 1937-39, 415-27, Bouman 1956, Andersson 1966, Hofmann 1972, Heinrichs 1976, Meulengracht S0rensen 1993a, 53-6. 11 On VatnsdtZla saga see Bjorn M. Olsen 1937-39, 243-49, Danielsson 1986,51-61, Gisli Sigurosson 1994b. 12 See Helgi porhiksson 1997 for interesting ideas about feud in the fourteenth century. In the interpretation of feud plots in late sagas the influence of the monarchy on people's world view must be taken into account. 13 Anthropologists and historians influenced by anthropology have made many valuable contributions to the study of the sagas in recent decades, but these scholars sometimes undervalue the importance of literary culture for the making of the sagas and hence offer a rather simplistic view of the problems involved in their interpretation. See essays in Samson, ed. 1991, and Gisli p.Usson, ed. 1992. Gisli P;ilsson 1997 provides a clear survey of this research; see also Gaskins 1997 for a critical view. 14 The saga does not mention the family of Ingjaldr of Gniipufell, Halli's maternal grandfather, but it seems safe to assume that people will have known that he was the grandson of Helgi the Lean, as stated in Landnamab6k. Halli's parents are mentioned only in the saga. 15 This statement is, of course, something of an over-simplification and does not apply to all modern narrative art-it requires cautious application even in relation to older story telling: see Brooks 1984, 313-23. 16 See Hume 1973 on the role of beginnings and endings in the islendingasogur. 17 The information carried at the end of sagas is not unlike that deployed at the end of films which are based on true stories: "X spent five years injail and learnt handicrafts and works at them now, but his wife divorced him and remarried." 18 Clover 1982 discusses this form of saga construction, and examines in more detail than is attempted here the interweaving of narrative elements in Grettis saga (1982, 71-3). She also speaks of "stranding" in relation to places where, within a single episode, we move from one disputant in one location to his opponent in a different location; but such scene switching is of a different nature from the interweaving of unrelated strands. On the construction of Eyrbyggja saga, see also

255

NOTES Hollander

1959, VCsteinn Olason

1971, McCreesh

1978-79,

and

McTurk 1986. 19 On these cross references see Clover 1982, 85-90. 20 Lonnroth (1976,69) uses Andersson's feud pattern with minor modifications when analysing a continuous section but not a whole saga. His feud pattern differs somewhat from Andersson's: 1. Introduction. 2. Cause for conflict (Balance disturbed). 3. First punitive act plus x-number of revenge acts leading to: 4. Climax (The Major Confrontation). 5. More Revenge Acts (optional). 6. Final settlement (Balance restored). Lonnroth also establishes a framework for analysing overseas journeys in sagas, similar to the model which Harris (1972) had developed to describe the islendingaprettir, short tales which tell of the dealings of Icelanders with foreign princes. Lonnroth describes the travel framework of Njals saga as follows: 1. Departure. 2. A series of tests, including court visits and viking adventures. 3. Homecoming (p. 71). The same model applies, in fact, to most sagas which include journeys abroad. 21 Byock emphasises the importance of feud in the construction of the islendingasog;ur, but in his classification the constituent elements of feud, which he calls "feudemes" (conflict, advocacy, resolution) and which form "feud clusters" and "feud chains", do not account for the whole of a saga. He also talks of "units of travel and information". Byock does not assume that there were fixed sagas in oral tradition, and he does not account for the form of the written sagas, but the great merit of his model is the attention he draws to the search for reconciliation. The theories of Andersson, Byock and Lonnroth about conflict and feud patterns will not be discussed further here, but their influence will be discernible from time to time in this present study. See also Sawyer 1987 and Helgi porlaksson 1994 and 1997. 22 The distinctions drawn here between matter belonging to the plot and matter outside the plot, and between sequential narration and references backwards and forward in time, are based on the narratological studies of Gerard Genette, especially Genette 1986; see also Chatman 1978. 23 Steblin-Kamenskij 1973, 123-40, examines the concept of saga time in the context of his distinctive view of the role of narrators and authors in handling their narrative materials. His fellow countryman Gurevich 1985, 25-39 and 93-151, discusses the concept of time in medieval Europe in his work on the fundamental features of medieval culture. 24 On visions and other supernatural events in Njals saga, see McTurk 1990.

256

NOTES 25 Saga necrologues are discussed by Andersson 1967, 60-62; see also Lonnroth 1976,97-9. 26 Some examples are discussed in I>orleifur Hauksson and I>orir Oskarsson 1994,277-78. 27 Jonas's conclusions about digressions appear on p. 80, with the evidence set out on pp. 13-91 (English summary pp. 312-15), and he discusses the same phenomenon elsewhere in his book. Jonas's conclusions have enjoyed wide scholarly acceptance; see, however, von See 1981a. On F6stbrceora saga see further Kroesen 1962 and Jakob Benediktsson 1986. 28 In another redaction of the saga it is clearly stated that the killer was I>orgrimr, Gisli's brother-in-law. Many scholars have discussed the riddle of who murdered Yesteinn; see Holtsmark 1951, 42ff, Andersson 1969, Strombiick 1970, Thompson 1973, Bredsdorff 1971, and Hermann Porleifur Hauksson and I>orir Oskarsson 1994,282. 33 See Meulengracht Sjiwensen 1993a, 118-19, and I>orleifur Hauksson and I>orir Oskarsson 1994,274 and 284-86. We may note that modern editors have sometimes served to promote the idea of the classical style through their choice of variant readings and even through emendation. 34 There is no reason why this should not be the case. It is well known that the work of fine modern writers often goes through many revisions before the author considers it finished and ready for the press. Today the rights and wishes of the author, the distinctive creative skill (or whatever we wish to call it) of the individual is regarded as virtually sacrosanct, and few would readily accept that an editor or, still less, a proof-reader or type-setter could improve on the work of the writer himself. To attempt to do so without authorial permission would be a kind of sacrilege. At the same time it is often the case that publishers (whether through assessors or editors) contribute significantly to the

257

NOTES final form of a novel, albeit with the author's permission. Medieval scribes did not have to worry about the wishes of the author. 35 Gfsli Sigurosson has drawn my attention to the similarity between Gunnarr's expression of concern over his relative reluctance to kill people, and the sentiments of Siguror the Dragon-Slayer in the Eddic lay Fafnismal, 24: "It is difficult to know / when we all come together / descendants of the gods, / who is born the bravest; / many a courageous man / does not redden his sword with blood / in the breast of others." 36 See Bouman 1962, 10-13, Wolfl965, 179-96, Harris 1979, Clover 1980. 37 On insults in sagas see Meulengracht S0rensen 1983. 38 This function of verse has aroused the interest of many saga admirers. Dame Bertha Phillpotts defined it well many years ago: "In the opinion of the Icelanders, however, speech was not given for the free expression of deep emotion. In the saga of the sons of Droplaug, when his brother Grim is slain, Helgi "took up the sword which Grim had had and said: "Now that man is dead whom I thought the best."" No more can be said in ordinary speech. But there is a mode of expressing deep feelings of which even the most reserved may avail himself if he can. He can lay bare a broken heart, or a heart aflame with love, or he can boast without restraint, if he veils his feelings in skaldic verse." (Phillpotts 1931, 180) 39 Not surprisingly verses are especially numerous and playa particularly important role in sagas about poets: Bjarnar saga Hitdadakappa (39 verses), Egils saga (60 individual verses; the three poems by Egill, though mentioned, were not part of the saga in its original form), F6stbrl1!Orasaga (40), Gisla saga (40), Grettis saga (73), Gunnlaugs saga (25), Hallfreoar saga (34), Kormaks saga (85), Viga-Glums saga (13), Viglundar saga (22), and P6roar saga hreou (12). There are also two poets in Eyrbyggja saga who express themselves in verse, I>orarinn the Black of Mavahlio and Bjorn the Breiovfking Champion; and there are also verses quoted from a poem about Snorri the Chieftain very much as verses are used in the kings' sagas (a total of 37 individual verses). There are also a good many verses (19) in Haroar saga Grimkelssonar, but Horor himself is responsible for only a handful of them. There are 15 verses in Havaroar saga isfiroings, of which all but one are the work of Havaror himself, with most of them describing his accomplishments. Twelve sagas have no verses at all: Hl1!nsa-P6ris saga, Finnboga saga, Flj6tsdl1!la saga, Porskfiroinga saga (or Gull-P6ris saga), Gunnars saga Keldugnupsfifls, Hrafnkels saga, Kjalnesinga saga, Lj6svetninga saga, Valla-

258

NOTES Lj6ts saga, Vapnfiroinga saga, Porsteins saga hvita, and Porsteins saga SiouHallssonar. Though seven of these sagas are post-classical and Hrafnkels saga could also have been written after 1300, it is worth noting that the list also includes Lj6svetninga saga, Vapnfiroinga saga and Valla-Lj6ts saga, apparently early works exhibiting the marks of oral tradition. Other thirteenth-century sagas contain a handful of verses, none of them significant for character description or for the saga overall. Amongst these are Ein'ks saga rauoa (3), Grcenlendinga saga (1), HcensaP6ris saga (1 fragment), Laxdcela saga (5), Reykdcela saga (1), and Vatnsdcela saga (1 fragment). There is just a single verse in Fl6amanna saga, and three in Kr6ka-Refs saga. In those sagas not yet mentioned there are a handful of verses, distributed among the saga characters, and seldom seeming to have much significance: Bandamanna saga (6; 1 in another redaction), Baroar saga (6), Njals saga (23, and also "Darraoarljoo": considering the length of the saga this represents a relatively small number of verses; most of them occur in the second half of the work; and the number of verses varies from manuscript to manuscript, suggesting that some scribes added verses-see Islenzk formit XII, 465-80). In Droplaugarsona saga there are six verses, five of them in a cluster at the moment when Grfmr Droplaugarson recalls the death of his brother Helgi and his revenge. Heioarviga saga has seventeen verses (two of them in the retelling by Jon Olafsson of Grunnavfk) distributed among several of the saga characters; the set of verses about the heath killings is attributed to a certain Eirfkr the Wide-Seeing. There are also seventeen verses or fragments in Svarfdcela saga, with a number of them attributed to the ghost Klaufi. 40 Of the verses in Njals saga, unquestionably the most important is that sung by Gunnarr in his tomb. The attitudes it reveals contrast strikingly with some of his statements while he was alive. Kari says little about his feelings in prose, but expresses them in verse. Njala is also not without lyricism in prose, see pp. 113-14. 41 It is fair to say that the role of poetry in the islendingasogur is a topic not as yet fully investigated. There is no space here to pay it the attention which it deserves. Important studies by Bjarni Einarsson (1961,1971,1974,1976) offer new ways of viewing the question; see also Guorun Ingolfsdottir 1990, O'Donoghue 1991, Poole 1981, 1989, 1991, and Finlay 1992, 1995. There are also three particularly interesting papers by Laurence de Looze 1986, 1989 and 1991; "These sagas are both prose and poetry-a weaving together of two very different discourses, hence hybrid in form, and wholes which are

259

NOTES greater than the sum of their constituent parts. Such sagas are profoundly dual in nature: two metrical orders, even two lexicons, contend with each other. Time itself becomes double: the lyric moment vies with the chronology of prose narrative. What the reader experiences as narrative time becomes time of composition for the poet" (de Looze 1986,479).

III. Saga Worlds 1 islendingasogur character description has been much discussed. The remarks of Dame Bertha Phillpotts are worth recalling: "All the Sagas know that the proper study of mankind is man, but in the greater Sagas there is the consciousness that man in his struggles and strivings with his fellows is matched not only against them but also against Fate. It is this sense of the dignity and pathos of human life which makes the best Sagas universal in their appeal. The heroic Eddic poems are instinct with this deep sympathy for their characters, and it is heartening to find it going out in the Sagas not to kings and princesses, but to ordinary mortals, farmers and their wives. Many literatures have recognised the dignity of human character at a distance, in kings of long ago: the Icelanders pierced the outward show of things and saw this same dignity of ordinary men and women, enmeshed in the trivial doings of every day. But they could only be thus clearsighted because their sympathies had been quickened by the great tales of the past" (Phillpotts 1931, 185-86). 2 Einar 01. Sveinsson 1971, 33, 96, has drawn attention to the distinction which Njrils saga and other works draw between fair- and dark-haired heroes, and between those who advise and those who act. We may note, for instance, the distinction between the fair-haired Gunnarr and the dark-haired Skarpheoinn, and between Njall the counsellor and Gunnarr the man of action. Einar Olafur also identifies the different ways in which female characters are described, and how in Njrils saga outright villains and other unworthy types each have their individualising traits. Saga authors were deft at creating caricatures, whether of a good-natured or scornful kind. Lonnroth's systematic description of the drama tis personae in Njrils saga (1976, 61-8) helps us to appreciate the variety to be found in the depiction of characters performing similar roles. 3 It is interesting that brothers with the names Grimr and Helgi should also appear in Njrils saga, and that a younger and less important brother also named Grimr should appear in n'gils saga. 4 Many scholars have analysed this concept; see Sigurour Nordal

260

NOTES 1942/1990, Andersson 1970, Meulengracht S0rensen 1993a, 203-206 and elsewhere. 5 Some readers have felt that there is little decorum in Bjorn's last stand, when he uses scissors rather than a sword in defending himself; the weapon seems reminiscent of Arnkell's sled runner. Yet defending oneself with unconventional weapons when more orthodox implements were not to hand does not seem to have been regarded as dishonourable within the saga world. Heroic weapons such as Gunnarr of Hlfoarendi's halberd and Skarpheoinn Njalsson's axe were not always available. On Bjarnar saga Hitdcelakappa see Bjarni Einarsson 1961,234-56, de Looze 1986 and Bjarni Guonason 1994. 6 See Cook 1971, Mundal 1980, Yesteinn Olason 1983b, Meulengracht S0rensen 1988 and 1993a, especially 277-81, Bandle 1994. See also Bjorn M. Olsen 1911 and Bjarni Einarsson 1961,257-70. 7 Meulengracht S0rensen 1983 examines these issues in detail, drawing attention to the main instances of these concepts in the islendingasogur, they are particularly important in verbal insults. See also Strom 1974 and Helga Kress 1977. 8 Much has been written about the role of women in the islendingasogur and in other early literature; see, for example, Heller 1958, Jesch 1991, 176-208, Meulengracht S0rensen 1988 and 1993a (especially 226-48). 9 The role of the woman as inciter in the islendingasogur has been widely discussed: in addition to Clover 1986b, see, for example, Heller 1958, 98-122, VVolf1965, 109-47,Jochens 1996, 174-203. 10 On the love affair in Kormaks saga, see Kinck 1951, Bjarni Einarsson 1961,52-164, and 1976, 37-126, Bredsdorff 1971,54-7, Sayers 1992, Lange 1992. O'Donoghue 1991, 182-84 discusses the description of Steingeror as part of her interpretation of the verses, but does not deal directly with Steingeror's attitude to her later husband. 11 Mter I>orgrimr's death, 1>6rdisbore Borkr a son, and it is natural to assume that 1>6rdfs's disclosure is in part driven by her desire to remove from Borkr the burden of exacting vengeance. 12 It has been argued (Jakobsen 1985) that one of the descendants of 1>6rdis,Snorri Sturluson, rewrote Gisla saga in order to present a more favourable image of his female ancestor. In the absence of supporting evidence this remains pure speculation; we may note that the saga bears little resemblance to any of Snorri's known works. 13 Helga Kress has discussed this point in several publications, see especially 1993, 34-60; see also Dillmann 1992 andJochens 1996, 113-31. 14 On Hcensa-P6ris saga see Bjorn Sigfusson 1960-63, Ebel 1982, Durrenberger et al. 1986-89, Gfsli Sigurosson 1994c.

261

NOTES 15 Ker 1957 (1908),228-29,

Sigurour Norda11919, Einar 01. Sveinsson

1971,62-5. 16 On the comic presentation of I>orgeirr see Meulengracht S0rensen 1993b. Whilst the idea of the saga's comic pulse is persuasive, Helga Kress 1987 may be going too far in suggesting that the saga is a parody of the heroic ideal as such. See also Vesteinn Olason 1993a, 100-104. 17 Many scholars have dealt with ideas about luck and misfortune in individual sagas. The influence of these ideas on the composition and structure ofa few sagas is studied in Wolf 1965,86-109. 18 The text is somewhat different in another redaction of the saga, but it does not affect this interpretation. On the two redactions of Gisla saga see Guoni Kolbeinsson andJ6nas Kristiinsson 1979, Berger 1979, and Jakobsen 1982a and b. 19 Andersson 1969 and Hermann Pilsson 1974a have seen Gfsli's actions as motivated byjealousy towards those men who enjoy his sister's love, or towards I>orgrfmr for being admired by Auor; rejecting such readings Meulengracht S0rensen 1986 has argued that the way Gfsli goes about killing I>orgrfmr serves to render the latter's marriage to I>6rdfs invalid before he kills him. This explanation seems to me a little far-fetched; I have argued elsewhere (1994b) that everything Gfsli does is fully in accord with his explicit aims and circumstances. 20 For a helpful discussion of Gfsli's outlawry, dreams, poetry and death, see Schottmann 1975. 21 The heathen world must have been in the power of "evil" according to the theology of the medieval church which believed that baptism was a precondition of grace. Yet it is impossible to judge how influential such abstractions may have been in the mind of the Gisla saga author. One feature of the twelfth-century renaissance was its positive attitude to the more important element., of heathen culture and to noble heathens, whether in the Mediterranean regions or the far north. See Seewald 1934, Prinz 1935, Olsen 1938a and b, Holtsmark 1951, Foote 1963, Harris 1991. 22 This aspect of Laxdmla saga is well analysed by Meulengracht S0rensen 1993a, 250-65; but his sociological interpretation of the character and fate of Iqartan will not prevent the modern reader feeling the need to find a more psychological explanation for his actions, and claiming that the text offers some support for such a reading. Heller 1976a has also written well about Laxdmla saga, arguing that the saga was written some time after the middle of the thirteenth century, and that it is for the most part an authorial creation based on other literary sources and on Sturlung-Age events. For further discussion of the saga see Einar 01. Sveinsson 1934, Madelung 1972, Dronke 1979, Helga Kress

262

NOTES

1980, Hermann P,Usson 1986, Meulengracht S0rensen 1987, Cook 1992. 23 The ambition and fate of Sturla Sighvatsson is an obvious example of the kind of striving for honour with which society could not cope. Sturla was descended from the Sturlungs on his father's side and the influential A..sbirningar family on his mother's side; he married Solveig Sormundardottir, a member of the Oddverjar family and thus of royal descent, for all that she was the daughter of a concubine. But in Sturla I>oroarson's islendingasaga it is not the honour which Sturla gained by marriage which brings him down but the immoderate ambition which is encouraged by the Norwegian king. Njorour P. ~arovik 1971 and Beck 1974-77 argue that Laxdcela saga is deeply influenced by the conflicts of the Sturlung Age. 24 The figure of the wise and fortunate king appears in many short tales. He understands well the qualities of worthy men who appear at his court, and helps them to mature. It does not matter for the interpretation of Laxdcela saga that much of what is said about King Olafr Tryggvason in other sources contradicts his favourable depiction in Laxdcela. 25 Wolf 1994 argues that Laxdcela saga may have moved away from the attitudes of heroic poetry, as in the description of Kjartan's death, and that ill-luck is not as prominent a force in Laxdcela as it is in older sagas. 26 Hermann Pcilsson 1962a, 25-40,101-106,118-29 (and elsewhere) has pointed to the parallels between the events in Hrafnkels saga and what happens in Svinfellinga saga; and many other memorable Sturlung-Age events raise the question of whether not sparing the life of an enemy could ever be justified. An example of this is the Apavatn ride of Sturla Sighvatsson (Sturlunga saga 1946 1,412-14; 1988 1,399-400). 27 A great deal has been written about Hrafnkels saga, not least about the saga's morality, and my own analysis doubtless reveals traces of many scholars' observations and insights-see, in particular, the influential discussion by Sigurour Nordal 1940/1958, Liest01 1947, Oskar Halldorsson 1976, Hofmann 1976, and Hermann Pcilsson 1971 and 1988. Whilst my conclusions differ significantly from those of Hermann, his discussion of the saga has played an important part in sharpening our understanding of the interpretative problems. See also Bjarni Guonason 1965, Davio Erlingsson 1971, Thompson 1977, von See 1981b, Fulk 1986-89, Andersson 1988, Vad 1994, 74-84, 111-17, 132-42. On the role of religious belief in the saga, see Einar Pcilsson 1988, Jon Hnefill Aoalsteinsson 1990-92, Meulengracht S0rensen 1992, Guorun Nordal 1995.

263

NOTES 28 Such fatalistic attitudes have survived in Iceland right up to the present day,just a year or two short of the thousandth anniversary of the acceptance of Christianity in Iceland. 29 There is no opportunity here to discuss the many other issues raised by Bandamanna saga, such as the significance of the relationship and dealings between Ofeigr and his son Oddr (see Schach 1977), or how we should read the story of the luckless Ospakr; see Mager0Y 1957 (Part II, "Litteraturverket"), and 1981, xxx-xxxiii, also Bjorn M. Olsen 1937-39,250-73, Lindow 1977, Sverrir T6masson 1977. 30 Much has been written recently about the distinctiveness of Grettis saga; see, amongst others, Hermann P;ilsson 1969a and 1981,65-120, Hume 1974, Cook 1984-85, Hastrup 1986, Guomundur Andri Thorsson 1990, Vioar Hreinsson 1992, Orn6lfur Thorsson 1993. 31 On the influence of the Viking Age on the people of Scandinavia, see Siguroar Norda11990, 28-36, 115-28; he discusses Egill Skalla-Grfmsson in the latter chapter. On the literary sources of Egils saga, see Bjarni Einarsson 1975. The concept of friendship in ~'gils saga is examined by Baldur Hafstao 1995, 19-33; see also Baldur Hafstao 1990. 32 On Egill in York, see Kris~;in Albertsson 1976 and Vesteinn Olason 1991. 33 Though his discussion is much more detailed, Meulengracht S0rensen 1993a, 127-47 defines the ideology of Egils saga in much the same terms as I do here. 34 Hermann P;ilsson 1994 examines the elements of primitive thought in Egils saga, berserker trances among them, and its artistic impact is analysed in Lonnroth 1996, 39-41. Lie 1982 (original edition 1948) discusses Egill as a berserk and sorcerer, but looks for a psychological explanation and treats him as an historical figure, as does Byock 1994b. See also Einar P;ilsson 1990. 35 There is no reason to doubt that the author of ~'gils saga was a Christian; to a degree the saga can accommodate his Christian view of the world. Yet, like the author of the Snorra-Edda, he seems to have used comedy as a means of avoiding the problems which the worldy nature of saga narrative material could often pose for a Christian author. 36 Torfi H. Tulinius has shown the importance of this question in the saga. There is good reason to believe that Snorri Sturluson's own experiences in life help him to understand the pain which can result when close family members quarrel. More problematic is Torfi's suggestion that ~'gils saga may be Snorri's confession expressed in a coded language; see Torfi H. Tulinius 1994, especially 119-33, and 1995 251-59. 37 In Njrils saga honour

and influence

264

are not necessarily linked to

NOTES chieftainships; neither Gunnarr nor Njall is a chieftain. We nevertheless sense the elevated status of the position when Hildigunnr demands that Hoskuldr be appointed a chieftain before she will agree to marry him. In crucial situations chieftains assume a leadership role, and both Gizurr the White, leader of the men who kill Gunnarr, and Flosi 1>6roarson, leader of the burners of Njall, were chieftains whose descendants acquired great power during the Sturlung Age. The same may be said of M6ror Valgarosson. 38 Many scholars have sought to explain the fateful actions of ~all's sons, most recently Miller 1983 who attributes them to a struggle for power between H6skuldr and Skarpheoinn. 39 The importance of law and legal formulae in the saga has been much discussed: see, for example, Allen 1971, 135-39, 171-73. 40 Those familiar with Einar Olafur Sveinsson's writings on Njorleifur Hauksson and 1>6rirOskarsson 1994, 183-96. See also 1>orleifur Hauksson 1994. 6 Andersson 1970,576; he cites Vilhelm Gnmbech and Walter Gehl in support of his argument, and indicates that he himself expressed similar views in Andersson 1967, though he was later to revise his position. 7 See the reviews by Hermann

Pilsson 1974b, 215-21, and Hallberg

1974,102-17. 8 See, for example, The Saga Mind, pp. 83-5. 9 We may, in fact, say that such an interpretative approach is a logical consequence of the changed attitude to the sagas promoted by bookprose theorists. Many scholars have interpreted individual islendingasiigurin the light of Sturlunga saga narratives. In his studies of medieval Iceland, BarChGuomundsson 1958, 1959 argued that various elements in Njals saga, Lj6svetninga saga, Bandamanna saga, and Olkofra pattr reflected events in the Sturlung Age; these sagas were a kind of roman a clef relating to real people and events. This approach also led to the attempts of various scholars to identifY the authors of individual sagas amongst men known from other thirteenth-century sources. 10 Hermann Pilsson 1971 states: "What seems certain is that the author must have been a man of considerable learning, and his sophisticated treatment of Christian themes leaves little doubt as to his education" (p. 13), and again, "... the characters in Hrafnkels saga must have been easy to understand [for the original audience], because the values underlying their conduct are those which we find in medieval Christian authors, in the homiletic literature and the Bible" (p. 21). Hermann rejects (pp. 46-7) the emphasis which scholars (Sigurour Nordal and Turville-Petre) have placed on heathen belief in fate. He argues that when Einarr 1>orbjarnarson rides Freyfaxi there is no suggestion that he is a plaything offate, noting instead the suggestion that "the shepherd's tragedy may have been inspired by the story of the Fall in Genesis, which in medieval times was used to exemplifY moral problems connected with the freedom of the will, temptation and disobedience" (p. 47). Similarly the change for the better in Hrafnkell's behaviour after his humiliation by Simr is consistent with Christian moral principles (pp. 51-6). On typological criticism, see in particular Auerbach 1973,73-6,194-202, and 1984. Hermann's views have been much discussed: see note 27 in chapter III. 11 With all due respect to the formidable work of Einar Pilsson in seeking to illuminate old Icelandic literature, and to trace the roots of

266

NOTES Icelandic culture, I have been unable to find in his writings any sufficiently convincing connection between text and theory to persuade me to engage critically with what he has written. 12 No criticism is implied here of those scholars who choose the other option. Radical readings are often stimulating and can lead scholarship forward, even if their influence is not always long-lasting. Yet we need always to distinguish between interpretations which treat the text seriously and those which use it as a plaything in a game without any rules. 13 Northrop Frye 1971, 89-91 discusses different kinds of allegory and the medieval examples which he cites are all of the kind where the writer makes it clear how the text is to be interpreted. Fletcher 1970, 7 states: "The whole point of allegory is that it does not need to be read exegetically; it often has a literal level that makes good sense all by itself. But somehow this literal surface suggests a peculiar doubleness of intention, and while it can, as it were, get along without interpretation, it becomes much richer and more interesting if given interpretation." It is clear, though, that medieval scholars, Saint Augustine amongst them, engaged in the allegorical interpretation of texts which did not seem to invite it (Curtius 1953, 73-4), but this practice began much earlier, with the efforts of the ancient Greeks to interpret Homer (203-207). 14 Whilst I agree with a good deal of Helga Kress's 1987 reading of F6stbra!lJrasaga, and Bjarni Guonason's 1993 interpretation of Heioarviga saga, I am not convinced that irony and moral criticism dominate the texts to the extent that these scholars assume. 15 Gfl2mbech 1909, 18-19; see also Yesteinn Olason 1993b, 30-32, and Meulengracht S0rensen 1993a, 294-96. 16 The reference here is, of course, to Dante's Divine Comedy, though with no suggestion that our description here applies to Dante's poem. In that work the Renaissance interest in man and his earthly life finds a place within the medieval Christian worldview, and that may help to account for the work's timeless popularity; see Auerbach 1973, especially pp. 199-202. 17 Fowler says, among other things: "... there is no doubt that genre primarily has to do with communication. It is an instrument, not of classification or prescription, but of meaning" (22); "Every literary work changes the genre it relates to ... all genres are continuously undergoing metamorphoses" (23). The main point is that a genre is not a collection of works which can be counted, but rather a tradition which is active in the shaping and reception of particular literary

267

NOTES works; in Saussurean terms a language system (langue) rather than language use (parole). 18 From the point of view of medieval stylistics, the islendingasogur are unquestionably works written in "low style" or stilus humilis; it is unlikely that those thirteenth-century Icelanders who wrote narratives in their own language made any attempt to classifYtheir style in accordance with Virgil's famous wheel. 19 The links between islendingasogur and the heroic poems of the Edda and other Germanic heroic verse have been much discussed; much less attention has been paid to the links between the narrative art of the sagas and that of unrelated heroic literature: see, however, Fox 1963, Scholes and Kellogg 1968, especially 43-51. 20 In fact Freeprose theory claims that the islendingasogur are folk legends, transmitted in oral tradition and written down with few if any changes. Andre Jolles makes the islendingasogur his main point of reference in chapters on folk legend, or Sage, in his famous study Einfache Formen (1930), and places them-or their early stages which he believes must have survived in oral tradition (see p. 71)-between Christian legends and myth. However by making the islendingasogur an archetype of the folk legend phenomenon, or at least its purest offspring, he faces the problem, as he himself acknowledges, that many of the texts for which the term folk legend was coined would be excluded from this group. 21 Though we refer here to folk legends in the forms recorded in nineteenth-century collections, both in Iceland and elsewhere, we do not claim that the stage of narrative form reached by the raw material of the islendingasogur immediately before they were written down was altogether parallel with the forms of folk legend as we now have them. The "oral sagas" could have reflected a more developed stage of narrative art than that known in later times. We are attempting here a systematic but not an historical comparison, and it is therefore only natural to make comparisons with extant forms. 22 It is, of course, clear that Frye has different kinds ofliterature in mind when he describes the "low mimetic mode", and his references to Icelandic saga suggest that he regards it as a kind of romance mode, which certainly points to the legendary sagas. Nevertheless, Frye's distinction between high and low mimetic modes is analagous to the distinction in Icelandic literature between heroic poetry and the islendingasogur. 23 I follow here scholars such as Ker 1957 in categorising French chanson de gesteas epic poetry, and in distinguishing it from romance, although

268

NOTES

the dividing line between the two is by no means clear and disappears over time; see Barron 1987, 25. 24 Watt 1963 discusses the relationship between romance and the early English novel, see especially pp. 140-43. A more detailed comparison can be found in Schlauch 1963, 120-74. 25 Icelandic legendary sagas, on the other hand, always take the form of romances, though their world of wonders differs in many respects from that to be found in the tales of France and southern Europe; see Torfi H. Tulinius 1990 and 1993. 26 The novella, whose roots lie in the medieval exempla tradition, is one of the literary genres which may be seen as a precursor of the novel. Glendinning 1970 points to the influence of the late medieval novella on Grettis saga and Bandamanna saga. 27 Harris indicates (pp. 202-210) that the conflict between paganism and Christianity and, at the same time, the importance of the acceptance of Christianity, is depicted most clearly in various Icelandic pcettir [short tales], and also in r'cereyinga saga; but the pcettir and the saga were, in fact, preserved along with the kings' sagas. Hallfre/Jar saga is a further instance of this. 28 In most respects I agree with Harris's analysis of the importance of the acceptance of Christianity in Njdls saga; he says that the saga is "probably the supreme realisation ofthe idea of Northern history as turning on the conversion and of the implications of this idea in the lives of individuals" (Harris 1986, 210-11). 29 No author tried harder than Halld6r Laxness in Gerpla to make creative use of the language and narrative style of the islendingasogur and kings' sagas, but the pointed irony and barely concealed authorial viewpoint distinguish his narrative method clearly from that of the old sagas, despite the similarities of subject matter and, to a lesser extent, of style. See Hallberg 1982. 30 Though most people are more familiar with westerns as films than as novels, the main issues are common to both. In some ways, in fact, films about the wild west have more in common with the islendingasogur than equivalent nineteenth-century stories in book form. The first novels about the American west date from after 1850 and are based on eighteenth- and nineteenthcentury literary models, notably Sir Walter Scott and James Fenimore Cooper. The narrator is a dominant presence and violence is blended with sentimentality. In western tales issues are more strongly personalised than in historical novels, and vengeance is a particularly important motif, see Brown 1997,3-6.

269

NOTES 31 I discuss the reception history of the islendingasogur and other old Icelandic literature in Yesteinn Olason 1989b, 19~217. 32 On literacy in Iceland over the centuries, see Einar 01. Sveinsson 1944 and 1956, Hermann PoUsson 1962b, 95-6, Lonnroth 1965,52-7, and 1990, Stefan Karlsson 1970, Yesteinn Olason 1989b, 204f, Loftur Guttormsson 1989. 33 Eggert Olafsson and Bjarni Palsson 1981 includes several references to saga readings and entertainments amongst Icelanders; see, for example, I 27-8, 108,270; II 51,136. See also Yesteinn Olason 1989b, 19~204,]6nas]6nasson fra Hrafnagili 1961, 24~47, Hermann Palsson 1962b, Magnus Gfslason 1977,8,88,95-100, Loftur Guttormsson 1989. 34 The French scholar Paul Henri Mallet, who played a major role in introducing educated European readers to old northern culture through his writings (1755, 1756), failed to distinguish clearly between Celtic and old northern culture. British scholars were quick to establish the difference; see Clunies Ross 1994, Quinn and Clunies Ross 1994.

270

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1986. "Some episodes in the Flate)jarbok text of Fostbrorlaksson. Reykjavik: Sogufroroarsonar 55,263 ivents saga 60 larnsfOa 192 lomsvfkinga saga lons saga biskups lonsbok 192

51-2, 60 52

Karllonsson 49 Karlamagnus saga 60,231 Iqalnesinga saga 84, 186, 217, 259 Knytlinga saga 58-9, 253 Kormaks saga 71, 126, 128, 145, Halldor Laxness 269 149-50,232,258,261 Hallfreoar saga 71, 84, 128, 145, Kroka-Refs saga 82, 186, 259 232,258,269 Haroar saga Grfmkelssonar 75, 84, Lancelot, Sir 232 186, 258 Landnamabok 25,44,48,86,255 Hauksbok 105 Laxd.ela saga 76-7, 78, 81, 84, 86, Hakonar saga ivarssonar 51 97-8,100,104,112,128,136,138Hattatal 58 39, 142, 146, 148, 156, 166, 173Havamal 39 80, 187, 198-99, 201, 215, 217, Havaroar saga isfiroings 78,84, 157219,232,243,259,262-63 58,160-61,217,258 Heioarvfga saga 74-5, 97-8, 125, Life of Saint Magnus 51 Lffssaga Olafs helga 51 148,158,217,223,225,227,253Ljosvetninga saga 74, 76-7, 85-6, 54,259,267 92, 100, 120, 124, 163, 217, 250, Heioreks saga 61 255,259,266 Heimskringla 51, 53, 58-60, 109, Lokasenna 165 215,252-53 Lucan 47 Hemingway, Ernest 235-36 Hildebrandslied 38 Morkinskinna 51, 109,215,252 Holy Scriptures 47 MooruvallabOk 114, 239 Homer 228, 230-31 Hrafnkels saga Freysgooa 75, 128, 39, 227 136, 145, 148, 180-85, 191-92, Nibelungenlied Njals saga 9, 66-7, 76, 78-9, 81, 217-18,222-23,259,263,266 86-7,93,98-9,104,111-19,122, Hreiorio 257 124, 128, 136, 138-39, 142-43, Hryggjarstykki 49 146-48, 154-56, 158-61, 171, Hungrvaka 52 178, 191-92, 197-205, 207, 217H.ensa-I>oris saga 75, 84, 87, 100, 18, 224, 227, 230, 232, 234-35, 158-61,180,217,258-59,262 242, 244, 254, 256, 258-60, 265, 269 !lias latina 214

296

INDEX

Oddur Einarsson 241 Odyssey, The 100 Old Testament 215 Orkneyinga saga 51 arms pattr St6r61fssonar Othello 160

Svfnfellinga saga 263 S6roarson 59, 253 Olafs saga Haraldssonar 49-51 Olafs saga Tryggvasonar 49-50 Olafur J6hann Sigurosson 257

Valla-Lj6ts saga 65,67-9,71,73,75, 84-5, 95-7, 139, 145, 159, 217, 254,259 Pals saga 52 Vatnsdorlakssaga 52 I>orskfiroinga saga 258 I>orsteins saga hvfta 259 I>orsteins saga SfOu-Hallssonar 1>6roarsaga hreou 217,258 Olkofra pattr 266 Orvar-Odds saga 61

297

259