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EASTERN EUROPE IN ICELANDIC SAGAS
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BEYOND MEDIEVAL EUROPE
Beyond Medieval Europe publishes monographs and edited volumes that evoke medieval Europe’s geographic, cultural, and religious diversity, while highlighting the interconnectivity of the entire region, understood in the broadest sense—from Dublin to Constantinople, Novgorod to Toledo. The individuals who inhabited this expansive territory built cities, cultures, kingdoms, and religions that impacted their locality and the world around them in manifold ways. The series is particularly keen to include studies on traditionally underrepresented subjects in Anglophone scholarship (such as medieval eastern Europe) and to consider submissions from scholars not natively writing in English in an effort to increase the diversity of Anglophone publishing on the greater medieval European world. Series Editor Christian Raffensperger, Wittenberg University, Ohio Editorial Board Kurt Villads Jensen, Stockholms Universitet Balázs Nagy, Central European University, Budapest Leonora Neville, University of Wisconsin, Madison
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EASTERN EUROPE IN ICELANDIC SAGAS TATJANA N. JACKSON
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To those I love—
my family and friends, living and dead—
with tenderness dedicated
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. © 2019, Arc Humanities Press, Leeds
The author asserts their moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
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ISBN (print): 9781641890267 eISBN (PDF): 9781641890274
www.arc-humanities.org Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
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CONTENTS
Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii Introduction: Sources, Aims, Conventions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
PART 1: EASTERN EUROPE IN THE OLD NORSE WELTBILD
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Chapter 1. Austrhálfa on the Mental Map of Medieval Scandinavians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Chapter 2. Austrvegr and Other aust- Place-names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Chapter 3. Austmarr, “the Eastern Sea,” the Baltic Sea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Chapter 4. Traversing Eastern Europe. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Chapter 5. East European Rivers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53 Chapter 6. Garðar/Garðaríki as a Designation of Old Rus’. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 Chapter 7. Hólmgarðr (Novgorod) and Kænugarðr (Kiev). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 Chapter 8. Aldeigja/Aldeigjuborg (Old Ladoga). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 Chapter 9. “Hǫfuð garðar” in Hauksbók, and Some Other Old Russian Towns. . . . . . . 93
Chapter 10. Bjarmaland. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
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PART 2: FOUR NORWEGIAN KINGS IN OLD RUS’
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Chapter 11. Óláfr Tryggvason . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Chapter 12. Óláfr Haraldsson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 Chapter 13. Magnús Óláfsson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 Chapter 14. Haraldr Sigurðarson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 Conclusion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 Bibliography. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173 Index. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Figure 1. Trade routes of the eighth through the tenth centuries. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
Figure 2. Old Norse-Icelandic sources on matrimonial ties of the Russian princely family with the ruling houses of Scandinavia (eleventh to mid-twelfth centuries) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
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PREFACE
In 1968, the Soviet historian Vladimir Pashuto published his Foreign Policy of Old Rus’. This book, based on the broadest—Russian/Soviet and foreign—historiography of the problem, became a landmark in the Soviet study of the Old Russian state. A year later, Pashuto became the head of a newly organized department at the Institute of History of the USSR concerned, mainly, with the publication of the serial edition “The Oldest Sources for the History of the Peoples of the USSR.” I had the honour and pleasure to be part of this project; my responsibility in it was the “Icelandic kings’ sagas as a source for the history of the European part of the USSR.” From the very beginning, the aim of my work was not only collecting passages containing stories and separate mentions of Old Rus’ scattered over the corpus of sagas, but also developing methods of analysis to test the reliability of sagas as a historical source. Working in this field for decades, along with a large number of articles and monographic studies, I prepared three separate volumes (published in different years) of the kings’ sagas’ data on Eastern Europe, and then, having reworked and expanded the material included, put it in one book (Jackson 2012). The majority of my publications are in Russian. A kind invitation from Professor Christian F. Raffensperger to prepare a volume for the book series Beyond Medieval Europe gives me an opportunity to bring my scholarship to Anglophone academia. My studies are in two senses “beyond medieval Europe,” as both Old Rus’ (a territory in Eastern Europe that interests me mostly) and Iceland (a place where practically all my sources had originated) are two medieval regions lying beyond medieval Europe in the traditional sense of the term.1 My research aims to investigate the Old Norse-Icelandic sagas, chronicles, and other texts from the point of view of their validity as a historical source for scholars of the history of Eastern Europe, and Old Rus’ in particular. This is an issue that has not previously been studied comprehensively within the framework of Old Norse studies. Particular questions of East European and Russian history reflected in the sagas have been discussed in scattered scholarly works that will be indispensable to this book. Those who came closest to specifying the significance of Old Norse literature, among other written sources, for the history of Old Rus’ were the Russian scholars Feodor (Friedrich) Braun (see Braun 1924) and Elena Rydzevskaya (see Rydzevskaya 1922, 1924, 1930s, 1935, 1940, 1945). However, for their own reasons, neither of them conducted the investigation of this issue in full. I hope my work fills this gap. The book opens with an introduction to the sources in question and continues with fourteen chapters in two parts.
1 Cf. Gísli Sigurðsson’s statement that “life in Scandinavia lies beyond the horizons of most courses in medieval studies, based as they are almost entirely on ecclesiastical sources from continental Europe” (Gísli Sigurðsson 2008, 1).
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This book is my own translation of my previous works written in Russian. No single chapter is a verbatim translation: the material has been reorganized, improved, and rewritten with due regard for a different audience. Unless otherwise stated, translations into English, particularly from publications in Russian, are my own.
I wish to thank Christian Raffensperger for his interest in my work and the wonderful team from Arc Humanities Press for helping bring this project to its realization.
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INTRODUCTION: SOURCES, AIMS, CONVENTIONS “Writings of the twelfth century and later can, if used critically, yield important information about the Viking period.” (Sawyer 1982, 24)
“I would be inclined to argue that while a text revealing a thirteenth-century view of the past may, and probably can, tell us something about the writer’s own time, it must also tell us something about that past itself.” (Foote 1993, 141)
THE TITLE EASTERN Europe in Icelandic Sagas does not mean that this book deals only with the sagas, and not Old Norse-Icelandic literature in general. Scandinavian written monuments constitute one of the largest groups within the corpus of foreign sources relating to the history of Eastern Europe, and Old Rus’ in particular. In addition to sagas, the Scandinavian materials include skaldic poetry, runic inscriptions, chronicles, homilies and saints’ lives, geographical treatises, and annals. With the exception of runic inscriptions (mostly Swedish) and a small part of fornaldarsögur (“sagas of ancient times”), these works belong to the Icelandic-Norwegian, or West Scandinavian, circle. Of the above genres, three (skaldic poetry, runic inscriptions, and sagas) do not occur in other regions and cultures; being a specific product of Scandinavian mentality, they require special attention. Icelandic skalds composed simultaneously with the events described, and their poems, according to the most widely accepted view, were transmitted orally in an unchanged form during several centuries before they were recorded. The runic inscriptions are a multitude of “authentic materialized messages from the period in question,” as Kristel Zilmer has put it (Zilmer 2005, 14), while sagas, according to her, offer “a kind of backward look at the events” from the distance of several hundred years (Zilmer 2005, 15). This is how Judith Jesch describes the earliest two types of sources: And so, from the mid- tenth century, we have Scandinavian evidence for Viking activity in England from two groups of contemporary sources: runic inscriptions from mainland Scandinavia (but mainly Sweden), and the skaldic verse composed in honour of Scandinavian leaders and preserved in Icelandic texts, mainly the historical sagas of the kings of Norway. The same sources also provide evidence of Viking activity on the European continent and in the east [my emphasis]. (Jesch 2005, 124)
The italicized words are especially important for us. Turning to the characterization of the three genres, I must first of all emphasize that in no way do I pretend to embrace the vast body of scholarship concerning Old Norse-Icelandic literature. To begin with, a
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number of comprehensive publications have appeared in the last three decades (Clover, Lindow 1985; Pulsiano 1993; Faulkes, Perkins 1993; McTurk 2005), while all other references will follow as necessary.
Skaldic Poetry
In Old Norse, the word skáld served as a term for poet. However, skaldic poetry is difficult to define.1 It has been suggested that the term skaldic verse should be applied “to all West Norse alliterative poetry that is neither Eddic nor belonging to the Icelandic rímur genre, and that is composed before about 1400” (Fidjestøl 1993, 592; see also Whaley 2005, 480–81). The earliest preserved pieces of skaldic poetry go back to the first half of the ninth century. Most skaldic poetry has come down to us only in fragments, for the greater part in the form of quotations in prose works from the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries, mostly within sagas. Poetic texts incorporated into the prose narrative are, as a rule, not whole poems, but separate strophes called vísur. Before being written down, skaldic poetry must have been transmitted orally, as is told by the Icelandic historian of the thirteenth century Snorri Sturluson in the prologue to his Heimskringla: “Með Haraldi konungi váru skáld, ok kunna menn enn kvæði þeira ok allra konunga kvæði, þeira er síðan hafa verit í Nóregi” (“There were skalds (poets) with King Haraldr [inn hárfagri], and people still know their poems and poems about all the kings there have been in Norway since”) (Hkr 1941, 5; Hkr 2011, 3).2 Skaldic poetry has an extremely elaborate form, regulated in rhyme, metre, and the number of syllables and lines; along with strictly regulated alliteration, skaldic poetry often uses internal rhyme. Skaldic verse varies its vocabulary by using heiti, poetical synonyms, and kennings, a poetic device where one noun is substituted by two, the second being a definition to the first. Lee M. Hollander gives a vivid illustration of this device, which is worth citing here: Let us say that Haki is the name of a sea king of old. Then Haka dýr (the animal of Haki) can stand for “ship”; and Haka dýrs blik (the glamour of the animal of Haki) for “shield”—shields were fastened on the railings of a Viking ship; and Haka dýrs bliks dynr (the tumult of the glamour of the animal of Haki) for “battle”; and Haka dýrs bliks dyns sæðingr (the gull of the tumult of the glamour of the animal of Haki) for “raven” or “vulture”; and finally Haka dýrs bliks dyns sæðinga hungrdeyfir (the appeaser of the hunger of the gulls of the tumult of Haki’s animal) for “warrior”, “king!” (Hollander 1968, 13)
Kennings may be split and separated, and several clauses are frequently interlaced within the limits of the half-strophe. Skaldic poetry, by virtue of the extreme complexity
1 Cf. Frank 1985, 160; see a vast bibliography on pp. 185–96; see also Whaley 2005 and Vésteinn Ólason 2006.
2 Here, as well as in similar notes to texts with translations, the first reference is to the original text, while the second one is to its English translation.
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of its poetical form, has always been regarded as a creation of individual authors. That is why tradition has preserved the names of most skalds. This also resulted in the fact that both in oral presentations and in writing a skaldic text was, as a rule, a fixed, correctly reproduced, text. Snorri Sturluson says in his, “fuller and more probing,” prologue to the Separate Saga of Saint Olaf (longer version) that “þau orð, er í kveðskap standa, eru in sǫmu sem í fyrstu váru, ef rétt er kveðit, þótt hverr maðr hafi síðan numit at ǫðrum, ok má því ekki breyta” (“the words in the poems are the same as the original ones if the recitation is correct, even though each man has learned from another, because [the form] cannot be changed”) (Hkr 1945, 422; Andersson 2008, 6). Skaldic content is much simpler than its form. Skalds never mentioned facts that were of no artistic interest for them and that lay beyond the sphere of their creative activities. This content was not chosen by skalds but was predetermined by the genre itself and also by reality. Composed immediately after an event by its witnesses or contemporaries, panegyrical poems (drápur, sg. drápa, the main subgenre of skaldic verse) would give the name and kin of a person in question, the number of the battles he had won, and praise his boldness and generosity. Still, the very purpose of these praise-poems made the choice of facts related in them tendentious. Panegyrical poems described not merely the events that had taken place, but only those that served to the glorification of an addressee of a poem. This was determined by the idea of the due and heroic, typical of medieval Scandinavian society. Bjarne Fidjestøl has characterized a praise-poem as follows: A praise-poem is thus “contemporary”, because the poet has chosen actual events as his yrkisefni […], but it is not “historical”, because the temporal dimension is alien to it. The dimension must be supplied by the historian. The brief summaries in the prose thus combine “referential” statements abstracted from the text of the verse and chronological statements drawn from its context. (Fidjestøl 1997b, 273)
Skaldic Poetry As a Historical Source: Attitudes Towards Skaldic Poetry in the Middle Ages and Today
Skalds often became court poets with the Norwegian kings. They were both their king’s bodyguards, who fought alongside other warriors, and historiographers of the illiterate times. The kings themselves, taking care that their fame should be known to subsequent generations, highly estimated skaldic poetry. Snorri Sturluson tells in Heimskringla how Óláfr Haraldsson was preparing himself for his last battle, the Battle of Stiklastaðir (Stiklestad): Svá er sagt, at þá er Óláfr konungr fylkði liði sínu, þá skipaði hann mǫnnum í skjaldborg, er halda skyldi fyrir honum í bardaga, ok valði þar til þá menn, er sterkastir váru ok snarpastir. Þá kallaði hann til sín skáld sín ok bað þá ganga í skjaldborgina. “Skuluð þér,” segir hann, “hér vera ok sjá þau tíðendi, er hér gerask. Er yðr þá eigi segjandi saga til, því at þér skuluð frá segja ok
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yrkja um síðan.” […] Þá mæltu þeir sín á milli, sǫgðu, at þat væri vel fallit at yrkja áminningarvísur nǫkkurar um þau tíðendi, er þá mundu brátt at hǫndum berask. (Hkr 1945, 358)
(We are told that when King Óláf drew up his men in battle array, he formed some into a shield-castle to protect him in battle, and for that purpose chose the strongest and most valiant. Then he called up his skalds and ordered them to enter the shield castle. “You are to be here,” he said, “and witness all that will happen here. Then you will not need to be told, but can tell of it yourselves and compose verses about it later on.” […] Afterwards the three discussed matters between them and said it would be a good thing to compose some memorial verses about the events which were likely to happen soon.) (Hkr 2014, 239)
Skaldic poetry was regarded as a reliable historical source as early as the thirteenth century. Stanzas appear as source material in the sagas, at least in the kings’ sagas. In the same passage in his prologue to Heimskringla, Snorri expressed his attitude towards these poems: Ok tókum vér þar mest dœmi af, þat er sagt er í þeim kvæðum, er kveðin váru fyrir sjálfum hǫfðingjunum eða sonum þeira. Tǫkum vér þat allt fyrir satt, er í þeim kvæðum finnsk um ferðir þeira eða orrostur. En þat er háttr skálda at lofa þann mest, er þá eru þeir fyrir, en engi myndi þat þora at segja sjálfum honum þau verk hans, er allir þeir, er heyrði, vissi, at hégómi væri ok skrok, ok svá sjálfr hann. Þat væri þá háð, en eigi lof. […] En kvæðin þykkja mér sízt ór stað fœrð, ef þau eru rétt kveðin ok skynsamliga upp tekin. (Hkr 1941, 5–7)
(And we have mostly used as evidence what is said in those poems that were recited before the rulers themselves or their sons. We regard as true everything that is found in those poems about their expeditions and battles. It is indeed the habit of poets to praise most highly the one in whose presence they are at the time, but no one would dare to tell him to his face about deeds of his which all who listened, as well as the man himself, knew were falsehoods and fictions. That would be mockery and not praise. […] As to the poems, I consider them to be least corrupted if they are correctly composed and meaningfully interpreted.) (Hkr 2011, 3–5)
We are confronted here with what nowadays is called “source-criticism.” As Bjarne Fidjestøl has put it, “this source-criticism of his, spelt out in the prologues to Óláfs saga helga and Heimskringla, is one of the outstanding intellectual achievements of our Northern Middle Ages, perhaps only to be compared with the phonological analysis of the ‘First Grammarian.’ In either case one might well decide that only in the present century has modern scholarship attained a similar height” (Fidjestøl 1997b, 256). Snorri
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mentions two criteria for the veracity of sources, namely the authority of wise men (fróðir menn, “knowing, learned, well-instructed”) and the inability of telling a deliberate lie, or flattery, in somebody’s face. The latter statement grew out of the old Icelanders’ understanding of the functions of skaldic poetry (poetry as a way of transferring information), and of their belief in the magic power of words (a lie being an encroachment upon the well-being of a person flattered). For a long time prevalent opinion held that skaldic poems, composed some centuries earlier than the sagas, had been sources for those sagas. But in 1933 Sigurður Nordal, in his introduction to Egils saga, stressed that the skaldic strophes in it were not quoted as evidence (like in Heimskringla), but were part of the narrative. Bjarni Einarsson further developed this idea and showed that in some other sagas about skalds strophes were rarely quoted as historical evidence (Bjarni Einarsson 1961). He also pointed to the substantial difference between Íslendingasögur (“sagas of Icelanders”) and konungasögur (“kings’ sagas”) in the attitude of their authors towards skaldic verse: while in the former (with rare exceptions) stanzas were quoted “for entertainment only,” were part of the story, and had to be considered as an element of the context as a whole, in the kings’ sagas strophes were mainly taken from poems in praise of the Norwegian kings composed by their court poets, or contemporary skalds, and were quoted as evidence (Bjarni Einarsson 1974). Today scholars distinguish between two main types of verse quotation in the sagas, namely “evidence” vs. “part of the story” (Bjarni Einarsson 1974, passim), or “substantiating verses” vs. “non-substantiating verses” (Foote 1976, 186), or “reports” vs. “speech acts” (Jesch 1991, 240–41), or “authenticating verses” vs. “situational verses” (Whaley 1993a, passim). Modern scholars recognize skaldic poetry as source material for sagas if the strophes are quoted as evidence, and have more faith in them than in the sagas themselves: these strophes, in their opinion, “contain specific information (personal names, place names, numerical or chronological information, ‘pregnant remarks,’ etc.) that serve to verify similar information in the prose text” (Andersson, Gade 2000, 25–26). This is explained by a number of reasons, and first of all, by the fact that the elaborate metrical form, specific word order, and complicated poetical language made it practically impossible to distort skaldic verses, or to supplement them with some new information, in the process of their oral transmission and written fixation.3 As Gabriel Turville-Petre remarks, “the rigid form” of skaldic poetry “was a safeguard against corruption during oral transmission” (Turville-Petre 1976, lxvi–lxvii). The content of skaldic poetry is, however, simple and straightforward. If one substitutes heiti and kennings with synonyms, improves the word order and retells in prose strophe after strophe, the poem will be reduced to an enumeration of some facts and events that are generally considered to have been real. As a rule, this content is so fragmentary, accidental and concrete that it
3 Still, there are scholars who call the authenticity of skaldic verses as ancient works into question. Thus, Shami Ghosh, based on studies by Russell Poole, Diana Whaley, and Christopher Abram, demonstrating some cases of variability in the texts of skaldic poems, concludes that “twelfth- and thirteenth-century scribes were capable of understanding and modifying verse within the constraints of putatively archaic metre and language,” and that “poets/scribes/editors of the
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is hardly clear without a comment in prose. Sometimes skaldic verses bear a personal name or a place-name, but in most cases they do not even name the hero in question, therefore “their attachment to a particular event or particular poem often rests on the prose context in which they are preserved” (Whaley 2005, 482). Many scholars believe that verses were transmitted with accompanying explanatory prose (Begleitprosa) (Beyschlag 1953). In Bjarne Fidjestøl’s opinion, “even the most critical historian must allow for some minimal prose accompanying the strophes, enough at least to give the name of the poet and to identify the subject-matter of his lines” (Fidjestøl 1997c, 277). The accompanying prose is thus of special interest for the study, since skaldic strophes did not exist separately, but formed a nucleus of a wider tradition (cf. Beyschlag 1950; Wolf 1965; Hofmann 1971; von See 1977; Fidjestøl 1997b; Danielsson 2002, 379–83; Whaley 2005, 481–82). Skaldic Poetry on Eastern Europe
About forty strophes, composed by twenty skalds of the ninth through the twelfth centuries are devoted to expeditions, military and peaceful, of Scandinavian jarls or kings to the lands beyond the Baltic Sea, and/or contain East European place-names (cf. Pritsak 1981, 251–301; Jackson 1991, 79–108). The latter fact is extremely significant. The toponymic layer that is revealed in skaldic poetry is evidently the earliest one in the Old Norse sources. It is recognized by scholars that skaldic poetry had been formed as a genre by the middle of the ninth century, but it was deeply traditional and did not undergo any great changes throughout the centuries. Consequently, the toponymic nomenclature of these poems had to remain nearly permanent, reflecting an earlier stage—up to the ninth century—of Scandinavians’ familiarity with the region in question. The major part of skaldic strophes in what we might call the East European fragments of the sagas are quoted as confirmation of the story. As a rule, saga authors use all the information from each skaldic stanza, so that a stanza and the prose in which it is embedded are in close agreement. However, there are cases when a place-name used in a stanza is substituted in the prose text by a more modern place-name (for instance, Garðaríki of the prose text stands for the skaldic Garðar). Nonetheless, there is every reason to believe that saga fragments based on the aforementioned forty strophes have a certain documentary basis, and the information they contain is more trustworthy than that of the other parts of the same saga. For instance, the study of saga material concerning the visits of four Norwegian kings to Old Rus’ (see part 2) still does not twelfth century or later could competently alter works that are supposedly of an earlier period” (Ghosh 2011, 48–49). In his opinion, the assignment of verses to “authenticating” or “situational,” “cannot help us in the least with regard to assessing the authenticity of the verse, the accompanying prose, or the prosimetrum as a whole” (Ghosh 2011, 95–96). Luckily, this hypercritical attitude has not garnered a great deal of attention, and the international team of The Norse-Icelandic Skaldic Poetry of the Scandinavian Middle Ages continues their most fruitful and useful work publishing volume after volume in which they give grounded conclusions as to the authorship, dating, and wording of each skaldic poem or separate strophe.
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convince that these stories were not an invention of their authors, a literary cliché, since Russian sources do not mention them. Skaldic poems, nevertheless, clearly confirm the fact that all the four kings visited Rus’. In several cases a strophe quoted in a saga bears some extra information, not reflected in the prose text. A good example would be the strophe by Þjóðólfr Arnórsson that tells not only about the participation of Scandinavian mercenaries of the Russian Prince Yaroslav the Wise in the defence of his country (as the prose narrative puts it), but also, in all probability, about the military campaign of Yaroslav and Mstislav against the Poles (Læsir), related in the Russian chronicle under the year 1031, in which the Scandinavians of Yaroslav could have participated (see below, p. 159). Extra information results from a complex analysis of skaldic poems dedicated to the eastern connections of Scandinavians vis-à-vis the whole corpus of skaldic poetry. For instance, Heimskringla has 601 skaldic strophes, among them 510 Scandinavian proper, and only twenty-three with East European material. The small number of skaldic strophes among the “eastern” subjects is likely to reflect the specific character of Scandinavian journeys to the east; as shown in the sagas, Scandinavians did not always go to Eastern Europe solely for plunder, and their trips did not always result in bloody battles, one of the favourite topics of the skalds. Skaldic poetry was composed mainly during the Viking age and praised military expeditions of Scandinavian kings and jarls, so correspondingly strophes were quoted in the sagas when great campaigns and battles were being described. It is worth noting that about 75 percent of stanzas in Heimskringla describe different kinds of military activities. Still, in the East European material, the correlation of “peaceful” and “military” skaldic stanzas is just the opposite: only about 25 percent of strophes relate Scandinavian attacks on “eastern” lands. All these poems are from the ninth to the first quarter of the eleventh centuries; they describe events no later than the first decade of the eleventh century, thus marking the 1010s as the boundary of Viking activity in the “east.” Only one of these strophes is dedicated to an attack on the territories within Rus’. This is a strophe in Bandadrápa by Eyjólfr daðaskáld composed ca. 1010, telling about the burning down of Aldeigja (Old Ladoga) by the Norwegian jarl Eiríkr Hákonarson, which is generally supposed by scholars to have happened in 997 (see below, pp. 86–88). According to the skalds, East Baltic territories were the main objective of Scandinavian military attacks before the eleventh century. Consequently, saga authors held the same attitude: sagas describing events of the time before the late tenth century would often say that their hero “herjaði í Austrvegi” (“waged war in the Eastern way,” i.e., in the Baltic), or “fór (sigldi) í Austrveg ok herjaði þar um sumarit (á sumrum)” (“went (sailed) to the Eastern way and waged war there summer after summer”). The “peaceful” strophes pertaining to the first half of the eleventh century, on the contrary, contain data about Rus’ only. This points to primarily peaceful relations between Old Rus’ and Scandinavia at that time. Moreover, skaldic poems dedicated to the four Norwegian kings that had lived in Rus’ reveal the fact that in the late tenth and early eleventh century the relations between the Old Russian state and the Scandinavian countries ceased being the result of activities of individuals or groups of armed people, and gradually developed into inter-state relations (cf. Melnikova 2008).
8
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Introduction
The East European ethno-geographical nomenclature (see Jackson 1993, 2003b; Zilmer 2005) of skaldic poems is limited. The skalds mention Eystrasalt (the Baltic Sea), Eysýsla (the island of Saaremaa), and Eistir (Estonians). In the north of Eastern Europe the skalds name the river Vína (generally understood as the Northern Dvina), Gandvík (the Arctic Ocean, or the White Sea) and the tribes of bjarmar. In the territory of Old Rus’ they once mention Aldeigja (Ladoga) and consistently use the place-name Garðar as a designation of Rus’. One should also notice the order in which East European ethno-geographical material was fixed in skaldic poetry (judging by the chronology of the poems’ composition): the first to become known to Scandinavians were the Baltic lands, then the north and only then Rus’. This is quite natural, of course, since a number of sources testify this sequence in the advancement of Scandinavian warriors and merchants through these lands. The fact that in skaldic poetry Rus’ bears its earliest Scandinavian name Garðar, and that out of a number of Russian towns only Ladoga is known to the skalds (in the form of Aldeigja) makes us believe that, being highly conservative, skaldic poetry fixed and preserved the toponymy of the earliest period of Scandinavian infiltration into Eastern Europe. Even the skalds of the eleventh century, who visited Rus’ with their kings, used no other designation of the country, but this traditional name.
Runic Inscriptions
The term “runic inscriptions” refers to inscriptions in runic script that occur on memorial stones erected in the period from the end of the tenth to the end of the eleventh centuries; they differ from most Old Norse written sources in that they are nearly contemporary with the events that are mentioned in them. Typically, a record, extremely laconic in content, reports of a military campaign, a battle, or a trade trip in which a person in whose memory the stone was erected had perished. Of all the Old Norse sources “only runic inscriptions (those among them that have been preserved until this day) can indeed be studied in their authentic form on a first-hand basis” (Zilmer 2005, 36). While writing with the Latin alphabet, throughout the Middle Ages, was used mainly by clerics and nobility, the ability to read and write runes is likely to have been widespread.4 In spite of the potentially high level of their reliability, these texts can easily be misinterpreted due to the ambiguity of signs, their sometimes bad preservation, and some cases of misreading (see Melnikova 1977b, 1998, 2001). Runic Inscriptions Connected with Eastern Europe
Runic inscriptions on memorial stones dealing with Eastern Europe comprise a confined group of 122 texts, out of more than 3,500 runic inscriptions found to date in Sweden, Denmark, and Norway. Their major characteristics are as follows: they date to the late tenth and eleventh centuries; they supersede fourfold the number of Scandinavian memorial runic inscriptions connected with western activities; they come mostly
4 For more information and literature see Knirk, Stoklund, and Svärdström 1993.
9
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9
from the territory of Sweden (113 out of 122), particularly the Mälaren area, Gotland, and Östergötland, which points to the closer contact that Sweden achieved with East European lands; their information is limited in content, but, as a rule, it is contemporary with the events described; apart from mentioning some trade and military enterprises, runic inscriptions on memorial stones have preserved valuable place-names, as well as ethnic and proper names. They point to good acquaintance of Scandinavians with the East European territory, and mostly with the main sea and river routes from the Baltic to the Black and the Caspian Seas, as well as to various long-established contacts between Scandinavia and Eastern Europe (see Melnikova 1998).
Sagas
Saga is the term for an Old Norse-Icelandic prose narrative (see Andersson 1978; Schach 1993). Sagas began to be recorded in the middle of the twelfth century. They were created and written down mostly in the second half of the twelfth and through the thirteenth century, but they continued being rewritten for centuries, and are preserved in manuscripts of a much later time. Until recently, medieval Icelandic sagas used to be studied “as texts individually written by single authors,” but in the last two decades they started being treated by some scholars “as products of a manuscript culture” (Boulhosa 2005, 23). Patricia Boulhosa explains this term with reference to Bernard Cerquiglini’s statement that a literary work in the Middle Ages “is a variant,” its consequence being that each written saga is viewed as one of the saga versions within the multiplicity of its texts (Boulhosa 2005, 21–31). As a result, conventional dating and authorship that had been for decades applied by scholars to the sagas is now being rejected (a written saga being but one of the many variants of the saga which simply “had had a chance” of being fixed on parchment), and sagas are dated on the basis of the manuscripts in which they have reached us. But this is still not universal. For instance, Theodor M. Andersson keeps choosing “the first Icelandic king’s saga” out of the late twelfth-century Oddr Snorrason’s Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar and the Oldest Saga of St. Óláfr (Andersson 2004), while for Ármann Jakobsson Morkinskinna, on which he has been working for about twenty years, is still a saga that “emerged during a particularly fertile period of composition of Icelandic kings’ sagas, around 1220” (Ármann Jakobsson 2014, 11). Scholars distinguish between several saga sub-genres according to their content and chronology. These are postola sögur (“apostles’ sagas”) and heilagra manna sögur (“saints’ lives”), anonymous translations of Latin biographies of apostles and saints, the earliest being from about 1150; konungasögur (“kings’ sagas”) devoted to the history of Norway, from ancient times to the late thirteenth century; Íslendingasögur (“sagas of Icelanders”) devoted to the history of Icelandic families, beginning with the settlement in the late ninth century; fornaldarsögur (“sagas of ancient times”), heroic legends and adventure tales about events in Scandinavia until the end of the ninth century; biskupa sögur, namely tales of Icelandic bishops from the eleventh to the fourteenth century; a huge compilation about the events in Iceland in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries known under the name of Sturlunga saga; and so on (see Schier 1970).
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A debate on the form and importance of oral tradition as the basis of the sagas (between the adherents of Freiprosa-and Buchprosalehre) has lasted for nearly two centuries. More than half a century ago the most flexible point of view was formulated by Theodor Andersson: “The writer undoubtedly could and did use written sources, supplementary oral sources, his own imagination, and above all his own words, but his art and presumably the framework of his story were given him by tradition. The inspiration of the sagas is ultimately oral” (Andersson 1964, 119). Since then, study of the orality of the Icelandic sagas has been a backbone and a very promising direction in saga studies. Theodor M. Andersson (2006, 2008a, 2008b, 2012), Hermann Pálsson (1999), Tommy Danielsson (2002a, 2002b, 2008), and Gísli Sigurðsson (2002, 2004, 2008) have demonstrated the existence of oral components in the sagas, and that “the sagas are part of a continuum in which both traditional and literary components evolve over time” (Andersson 2006, 20). It is a difficult task to differentiate between what is to be believed and what is pure fiction, what goes back to the oral background of the sagas and what had been added in the process of oral transmission and written “performance” of a text. Still, there is hope that memories from the distant past can be revealed in the sagas. What gives us hope is, for example, the fact that “however many doubts we have about individual minor points such as names, dates and events, the overall picture presented by the old texts of the human settlement of the islands of the north Atlantic is pretty much the same as the picture that emerges from archaeological research” (Gísli Sigurðsson 2008, 26). Sagas as a Historical Source
All the stages that saga source-criticism has passed through can be correlated with the pan-European development of historical science in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries (see Mundal 1977, 1987). Changes of attitude to the historical value of sagas can be illustrated by the kings’ sagas (see also Whaley 1993b, 55–56), since their picture of Norwegian history over a huge period of time could not but draw the attention of historians of Norway. While scholars concentrated on presenting the course of political events, the process of unification of Norway and strengthening its political power, their writings relied mainly on the analysis of narrative monuments, and the kings’ sagas in particular. Leading Norwegian historians, such as P. A. Munch, Rudolf Keyser, and Ernst Sars, the authors of multi-volume general works on Norwegian history, accepted saga reports without reservations (Munch 1851–59; Keyser 1866–70; Sars 1873–91). At the turn of the twentieth century, however, as the interest in social and economic history grew, historians concentrated on other sources, such as official acts, archaeological data, numismatics and toponymics, and runic inscriptions. The attitude towards sagas also changed radically: they began to be evaluated as works of literature in which a reliable historical basis, transformed both in multiple oral transmission and in the process of written fixation, was in practice impossible to obtain in its pure form. Confidence in the sagas was shattered by the works of Gustav Storm (see Storm 1873) and other Norwegian scholars, but mostly by those of the Swedish historian Lauritz Weibull (see Weibull 1913). The founder of the so-called Lund school of Swedish historians, Lauritz
11
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11
Weibull put forward a demand for radical criticism of historical sources, including the Icelandic sagas. According to him, sagas were literary and artistic works that were, above all, not synchronous with the events described in them. Discussing the understanding of a number of events of political history of Scandinavian countries prevailing in historiography and based on the sagas, Weibull debunked many generally accepted views (Weibull 1911; see also Source-Criticism 1972). An advocate of similar ideas in Norwegian historiography was Halfdan Koht: he not only found a considerable number of distortions and inaccuracies in the sagas, but also revealed in their interpretation of the material a strong influence of political views of the time of saga recording (Koht 1913). Yet, Norwegian historians, such as Gustav Storm, Halfdan Koht, Edvard Bull, Fredrik Paasche, and Johan Schreiner (Storm 1873; Koht 1921; Bull 1931; Paasche 1922; Schreiner 1927) were less radical about the sagas than Lauritz Weibull. In spite of the evidence—through internal criticism of the kings’ sagas, as well as their comparison with foreign sources—that sagas contained a significant number of errors and anachronisms, they concluded that, with necessary precision and reservations, the kings’ sagas could still be used as sources even for political, factual history. They found most reliable those saga reports that had been based on skaldic strophes quoted in them. The way saga authors “worked” with the skaldic material was carefully investigated (Finnur Jónsson 1934; Lie 1937). In the middle of the twentieth century, the possibility of applying a retrospective method in the study of the history of law (Rehfeldt 1955) and social and economic relations in medieval Norway began to be discussed in scholarly literature (cf. Holmsen 1940–42).5 Historians gradually became convinced that much in the kings’ sagas was still trustworthy,6 and therefore “it was not a question of whether to use sagas or not, but of how to use them in order not to make a mistake” (Gurevich 1977, 154). The specific character of saga literature makes it necessary to take into account a number of factors in the process of historical study. First, sagas are characterized by a synthesis of truth and fiction (“syncretic truth,” in the words of M. I. Steblin-Kamenskij 1973), and the understanding of historical truth at the time when sagas were recorded was fundamentally different from ours. Second, like the majority of traditional medieval genres, sagas are characterized by a hierarchy of stereotypes that penetrate everything, from Weltanschauung to language. While revealing stereotyped formulas in the sagas, one discovers the historical background both in the fact of their existence and in the very deviations from the stereotyped scheme. Third, the nature of information is influenced by the “official” tendentiousness of samtidssgaer (“sagas of modern times,” according to 5 Similarly, Henryk Łowmiański believed that the information of the sagas could not be authoritative for evaluating Scandinavian expansion to the east in the eighth to the ninth centuries: only the application of a retrospective method could enable the acquisition of some valuable data (Łowmiański 1957).
6 A vivid example of such attitude towards the kings’ sagas is given by a number of works, including Helle 1964, Gurevich 1967, Blom 1968, Andersen 1977, Gurevich 1977, Sawyer 1982, Franklin, Shepard 1996.
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Sigurður Nordal’s classification) (Sigurður Nordal 1953, 181)7 trying to ground the right for power of the impostor Sverrir’s dynasty, and by the “everyday” tendentiousness that becomes apparent in an attempt to embellish one’s achievements, trips and victories, or to glorify the king whom the saga is dedicated to. Finally, there is a lag of more than two hundred (sometimes even five hundred) years between the deed and the word, that is, between the events described and the time of written fixation. Therefore, data that had been orally transmitted for no less than a century inevitably underwent great changes and literary overworking. Among other things, this resulted in the “modernization” of the early history. In Halfdan Koht’s words, people from olden days were depicted in the sagas in the costumes and with the weapons of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (Koht 1913). Based on a genealogical principle, sagas in practice do not contain absolute chronological landmarks. The pivot of a narrative is the life of a hero or the rule of a king. Moreover, sources often contradict one another. The dating of events described in the sagas has been achieved mainly through their comparison with non-Scandinavian sources. The above features of saga as a genre preclude the isolated use of saga extracts. In historical research, fragments of saga texts should not be extrapolated; they must be studied in the fullest context possible, to make its place and role within a saga evident. Moreover, “literary analysis is a precondition for historical analysis if the sagas are to be used as a statement of reality” (Meulengracht Sørensen 1992, 34).8 Among saga data on early history most reliable are considered those based on the information of skaldic stanzas of the ninth through the eleventh centuries.9 It is also necessary to compare saga data with other materials: archaeological, numismatic, toponymic, as well as with those preserved in other Scandinavian and non-Scandinavian written sources. “The degree to which these sources are to be trusted or distrusted depends not only on the historian’s own subjectivity, but also on the way he uses other available sources to understand the historical moment he is analyzing” (Boulhosa 2005, 41–42). Sagas as a Source for the History of Eastern Europe and Old Rus’
Using sagas as a source for the early history of Rus’ is impeded by a variety of circumstances. The first problem is the fact that saga authors had a one-sided interest
7 See also the fortidssagaer, telling of events between ca. 850 and 1100, and oldtidssagaer, referring to the time before ca. 850.
8 See also Patricia Boulhosa, who claims that “within the diversity of manuscript culture, the researcher must be aware that he has an almost endless choice of comparative material to hand” (Boulhosa 2005, 32).
9 Shami Ghosh, who admits that “the broad outlines of the sagas” are “not avoided” in “political histories” written by such historians as Sverre Bagge, Eric Christiansen, Claus Krag, and Kurt Helle, still believes that “until better methods have been found for determining the extent and nature of the independence of the poems from the prose, we cannot really claim that the narratives we write based on the verse have any greater claims to historical accuracy than the histories composed by the authors of the compendia” (Ghosh 2011, 99–100). This hypercritical attitude is likely to leave us with the absence of Old Norse sources before the twelfth century, but, as far as I know, historians are not in haste to work out any “better methods.”
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13
in their choice of events worth being described, so that “positive data” in the sagas pertained to Scandinavian countries only. The remoteness of Rus’ from Norway, and even more so from Iceland, made the process of bringing information about the events taking place in Eastern Europe to these lands close to impossible. The question concerning who bore this information is still open. The stay of Scandinavian kings, their bodyguards and their skalds in Rus’, as well as bilateral political, economic, trade, and other types of contact between Old Rus’ and Scandinavian countries, created the conditions for bringing the stories from north to south and from south to north, although some similar legends and motives could have appeared as a result of synchro-phased development of the early Russian and early Scandinavian societies. East European history is dealt with in the sagas only when it is necessary for the plot. Since sagas concentrated on Scandinavian history, their authors were attentive to Scandinavian geography, but when the action takes place somewhere outside Scandinavia, we can never be sure that the saga author had not used some conventional stereotyped place-names. One must also recognize the fact that social terminology in the sagas is mostly Scandinavian. We must be aware that stereotypes, normally used for the description of Scandinavian realities, were also applied to the East European material. All this makes the necessity of comparison with manifold additional source material still more essential.
About this Book
The length of this book forced me to make a serious selection of my material. As a result, the book falls into two completely different parts. The image of Eastern Europe in toto, and of Old Rus’ in particular, which is discussed in part 1, can be called both historical and geographical. Here, an attempt is made through reading Old Norse texts to formulate the idea of the Scandinavian oecumene, to reconstruct a mental map of medieval Scandinavians, and to imagine the place of Eastern Europe on this mental map, to see Old Rus’—with its ways, rivers and towns—through the eyes of medieval Scandinavians. It is obvious that in search of geographic evidence it would be useless to confine oneself to geographical treatises only. On the one hand, there are not many of them (see Melnikova 1986; cf. Pritsak 1981, 503–50), on the other hand, to study spatial ideas, the spatial imaginaire,10 it is necessary to turn to sources that Jacques Le Goff has described as “les documents indirects, inconscients, ou involontaires” (Le Goff 1983, 813) (“indirect, unconscious, or involuntary documents”)—including works of literature, in our case to sagas. They provide rich material for the study of spatial ideas, but at the same time they pose difficult methodological questions: “how to understand geographical evidence and how to use indirect documents” (Michelet 2006, 32). 10 The term l’imaginaire in this scholarly context was introduced by Jacques Le Goff (1985); see also Michelet 2006.
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Introduction
Scandinavian Vikings became acquainted with the geography of Eastern Europe as a result of their first trips to the east,11 although it is hardly possible to date this process with any precision.12 The knowledge of rivers and their currents, location of settlements, the customs and traditions of the peoples inhabiting different parts of the waterways, and so on, was vitally important for the success of expeditions. This information was passed by word of mouth. As Gísli Sigurðsson notes rightly, “one of the functions of stories in an oral tradition, like those that undoubtedly stood behind the Icelandic sagas, is to preserve and pass on information about the outside world” (Gísli Sigurðsson 2015, 477). Numerous expeditions to and continuous stay in Old Rus’ of merchants and warriors who participated in the military enterprises of the Russian princes accumulated and enriched geographical information that started to serve as a background for stories of Viking activities in Eastern Europe and was even organized into more systematic descriptions—lists of rivers, towns and so on—which occur in later geographical treatises and sometimes in the sagas. This knowledge could not be acquired from books, so it definitely was the result of a living oral tradition.13 It is evident that old Scandinavian society had a fairly stable circle of ideas about Eastern Europe, reflected in skaldic poetry, runic inscriptions, sagas, chronicles, and geographical treatises. It should be noted that the extent of ethnic names and different place-names of the Eastern Baltic region, Old Rus’ and European north was considerably larger in the Scandinavian tradition than the information this tradition possessed about the countries of Western Europe, including England and France. To some extent this was a picture of the world of the time when the sources under consideration were being recorded, but there is no doubt that some background knowledge and general geographical ideas of the Viking Age have been preserved in it. In part 2 the reader will find some information on the history of Russian–Norwegian political relations of the last third of the tenth and the first half of the eleventh century from saga stories about the stay in Rus’ of four Norwegian kings. Here the situation is much more complicated. Close contacts between Old Rus’ and Scandinavian countries in the tenth through the thirteenth centuries could not go unobserved by the sagas. The forms this information acquired were numerous, varying from detailed descriptions to mere mentions of some names or details. The Old Russian material of the sagas is distributed chronologically rather irregularly. It mostly refers to the tenth through the late eleventh century, the period of formation of a relatively united Old Russian state. Information preserved in the sagas concerns the reign of two princes, Vladimir Svyatoslavich, the 11 Why the Vikings first came to Eastern Europe is explained in the illuminating paper by Thomas Noonan (1986). 12 Still, there is a reliable chronological boundary, a terminus ante quem, for determining when Scandinavians had already acquired their knowledge of Rus’ geography. This is the year 839 of the Annales Berthiniani, offering the earliest evidence of Slavic-Scandinavian relations as already existing (see Lebedev 1985, 190).
13 Compare Gísli’s similar conclusions concerning the picture of Ireland and the British Isles in the sagas (Gísli Sigurðsson 2015, 488).
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15
great prince of Kiev in 978–1015, and his son Yaroslav the Wise, the prince of Novgorod in 1010–1016 and the great prince of Kiev in 1016–1054. Sagas, despite their focus on genealogies, seem not to know the predecessors of Prince Vladimir and call him either “konungr Valdamarr,” or even “Valdamarr inn gamli” (“Valdamarr the Old”). Several saga narratives refer to the time earlier than the tenth century and relate Viking expeditions to the east, to the Baltic lands, and to the north, to the White Sea region. Finally, there are some mentions of the Russian princes and princesses in the genealogies of the Danish kings, as well as some information about the reign of the great prince Alexander Nevskiy (1250–1263). Each individual detail requires careful and meticulous verification. And, in the end, it turns out that the volume of reliable historical information in these sources relating to the depicted time is minimal. To a large extent unique is the information from Old Norse sources on the matrimonial ties of the Russian princely family with the ruling houses of Scandinavia from the eleventh to the mid-twelfth century (see Figure 2 on p. 120). A number of such marriages are described in the sagas—to be more exact, seven—in the interval between 1019 and 1154. We learn from the sagas of two Swedish kings’ daughters who came to Rus’ and became Russian princesses, as well as of five Scandinavian queens of Russian origin. The marriages in question are those (1) of Yaroslav the Wise (the Jarizleifr of the sagas) to Ingigerðr, the daughter of Óláfr sœnski (the Swedish) Eiríksson, king of the Swedes (1019); (2) of their daughter Elisabeth (Ellisíf) to the future Norwegian king Haraldr inn harðráði Sigurðarson (ca. 1044/1045); (3) of Vladimir Monomakh’s son Mstislav (called by the sagas Haraldr) to Kristín, the daughter of Ingi Steinkelsson, king of the Swedes (ca. 1095); (4) of Mstislav-Haraldr’s daughter Málmfriðr to the Norwegian king Sigurðr Jórsalafari Magnússon (ca. 1111) and (5) to the Danish king Eiríkr eimuni Eiríksson (1133); (6) of another of Mstislav-Haraldr’s daughters, Ingibjörg, to Eiríkr’s brother Knútr lavarðr Eiríksson (ca. 1117); and (7) of their son Valdemarr (Danish king Valdemar I) to Suffía, the daughter of Volodar’ Glebovich, prince of Minsk (1154) (see Pashuto 1968; Jackson 1982; Nazarenko 2001; Jackson 2008). Besides the Old Norse- Icelandic sources of the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries (such as Historia de antiquitate regum Norwagiensium by Theodoricus monachus, Ágrip af Nóregskonunga sǫgum, the Legendary Saga of St. Óláfr, Morkinskinna, Fagrskinna, Óláfs saga helga and Heimskringla by Snorri Sturluson, Knýtlinga saga, Ágrip af sǫgu danakonunga, and Icelandic annals), some of these marriages are mentioned in Gesta hammaburgensis ecclesiae pontificum by Adam of Bremen (marriages 1 and 2 in my list), in Genealogia regum Danorum by Wilhelmus abbas (3—with a mistake—and 6); in Historia ecclesiastica by Orderic Vitalis (4); in the anonymous Genealogia regum Danorum (6); in Gesta Danorum by Saxo Grammaticus (6 7); in the Danish annals (7). However, none of these marriages is described (or even mentioned) in Old Russian sources. Only the First Novgorodian Chronicle, when it records the death of Mstislav’s wife in 1122, mentions her name as “Мьстиславляя Хрьстина” (“M’stislavlyaya Khr’stina”) (NPL 1950, 21, 205) (unlike the Lavrent’evskaya and Ipat’evskaya chronicles where she is called just “Mstislav’s princess”). This fact is remarkable: Old Russian princes had close relations with the royal representatives of Catholic countries—not only of Scandinavian kingdoms, but of Poland, Germany, and France—while the Orthodox church never approved of
16
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those marriages (cf. Nazarenko 1999, 260–61). Nonetheless, “the record of dynastic marriages,” as Franklin and Shepard have noted, “shows that piety took second place to policy” (Franklin, Shepard 1996, 296). But that was in real life, while in chronicles, which, like all other literature, were in the hands of the clergy, traces of these marriages are rare; no doubt, the Russian chronicler often knew more than he could or wanted to share with his readers. Saga material on this matter deserves attention, but I do not include it in the book, since much has been written after my articles on this topic were published (see Nazarenko 2005, 2011; Litvina, Uspenskiy 2006, 2012; Dąbrowski 2008, 2015; Raffensperger 2010, 2016). Equally unique are saga data on the sojourn in Rus’ of the four Norwegian kings, the analysis of which I have chosen for part 2 of the book.
Some Conventions
The first convention—namely, the dating of sources—has been discussed above. I adhere to the traditional dating of skaldic poems, chronicles and sagas, and a corresponding chronological sequence of their origin, the latter confirmed by a relative unity of the toponymic nomenclature of runic inscriptions, skaldic strophes, and the early kings’ sagas (see chapter 2). Another convention is also chronological; it is connected with the dates of the rule of Norwegian kings.14 Absolute dates do not exist; the chronology of the history of Norway up to 1000 is approximate. Icelandic annals, having based their chronology on Icelandic sagas, often disagree. Nevertheless, the dates of the annals are often used in saga editions and commentaries. Therefore, not forgetting the conventional nature of this assumption, I consider it possible to follow those scholars who accept the dating of Annales Regii in denoting the reigns of Norwegian kings. The very “reign” of early kings is a complicated question. Thus, Claus Krag claims that such Norwegian kings as Óláfr Tryggvason, Óláfr Haraldsson, and Haraldr Sigurðarson were certainly not the descendants of the first Haraldr (the Fine-Haired), that a genealogical line coming from this legendary ruler is only the creation of medieval Norwegian historians who sought to represent the Norwegian kingdom as a hereditary possession, and that the realm of King Haraldr did not extend territorially beyond western Norway and in effect ceased to exist with the death of his grandson Haraldr gráfeldr (Grey-Cloak) ca. 975, which was the result of the restoration of the power of the Danish monarchy under King Haraldr Bluetooth (Krag 2003). Birgit and Peter Sawyer also consider the dynastic line coming from Haraldr the Fine-Haired as fictitious and claim Haraldr the Harsh Ruler to be the real founder of the dynasty of Norwegian kings (Sawyer, Sawyer 1996, 61). Sverrir Jakobsson also asserts that none of the sources contemporary to Haraldr the Fine-Haired sheds light on the personality or deeds of this ruler, that skaldic stanzas’ information is vague and unreliable, and their interpretation is based on the prose that accompanies them; he—just like Claus Krag—assesses Haraldr as a mythical 14 Cf. Andersson 2006, 2: “There should be no illusion, however, about the certainty of the dates given here.”
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Introduction
17
person (Sverrir Jakobsson 2002). At the very least, according to him, the real Haraldr and the saga character are far from each other. I will again walk here in the traditional footsteps and introduce the four kings within their imaginary family. In order to avoid overloading the book with references to papers in Russian, I regularly refer readers to my papers that include vast bibliographical lists. In quoting saga texts, I give preference to Íslenzk fornrit editions with normalized spelling. In other cases— like with Flateyjarbók— I reproduce the non- normalized texts of the corresponding editions. As far as the English translations are concerned, not being a native speaker, I tried, where possible, to use somebody else’s translations, in rare cases with emendations concerning place-names (for instance, preferring Garðar to Russia). The last, but not least, convention concerns the image on the front cover of the book. Art historians are prone to see in this painting by Nicholas Roerich of 1910 the figure of the Norwegian king Haraldr Sigurðarson at the moment of either his wooing the Russian princess Elisabeth, the daughter of Yaroslav the Wise, or his farewell to Elisabeth at the departure for his last battle. Not being able to say with certainty who the main characters of this painting are, I prefer sharing the art historians’ view and seeing here a story told in the sagas—that of the romantic love of a Norwegian king towards a Russian princess—as illustrating the central topic of this book.
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19
Part 1
Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild Oh, East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet. (Rudyard Kipling, The Ballad of East and West) Þan tima var vegr oystra um Ryzaland ok Grikland fara til Ierusalem [At that time the route eastwards was to cross through Rus’ and Byzantine empire to Jerusalem]
(Guta saga)
Physical space, in the process of land development, turned into geographical space (reflected on mental maps, in périples, itineraries, etc.), while the latter was then “conceptually transformed” into a set of categories and turned into social space, i.e., space that had been named, which was comprehensible to a certain group of people (a socium) and which was common to the representatives of one and the same culture. Space took on meanings that could be “understood by reference to particular social categories, rather than by reference to purely physical [and geographical] properties” (Hastrup 1985, 50).1 The individual perception of space was thus dependent on those social categories that had been the products of, and inherent to, a particular society or culture. To give an example of different cultures using different “languages” in the “dialogue” between them, we can look at the modern (1951) edition of Heimskringla written by the Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson ca. 1230. Speaking about Sigurðr Jórsalafari (the Crusader, 1103–1130) and his pilgrimage to the Holy Land, Snorri tells how he comes to Lisbon (“til Lizibónar”), now in Portugal but then a large city in Spain (“borg mikil á Spáni”), where heathen Spain is separated from Christian Spain (“skilr Spán kristna ok Spán heiðna”). “Eru þau herǫð heiðin ǫll, er vestr liggja þaðan” (Hkr 1951, 242) (“All the districts west of that are heathen”), writes the medieval Icelander, and he has grounds for this statement, since this is how the people of his time envisaged the world (to be discussed in more detail below). Meanwhile, the modern Icelander, the editor of Heimskringla Bjarni Aðalbjarnarson, comments on this usage in the following way: “Rétt væri: suðr” (“suðr [south] would be correct”), and he proceeds: “Áin Tajo greindi lengi sundur lönd kristinna manna og Múhameðstrúarmanna” (“For a long time the River Tagus separated the lands of Christians and Muslims”) (Hkr 1951, n1). In fact this river runs from east to west, so that the lands lie to the north and south of it, and here Bjarni Aðalbjarnarson is quite right. However, I do not think that he was right 1 My parenthetical addition in italics.
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20 Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild
to draw our attention just to this particular place in the sagas, since there are many instances where the indicated direction contradicts the real one. We should either make our comments regarding each such case or accept the picture of the world as it was in the eyes of medieval Icelanders. In a modern map we can see that to the west of Lisbon lies the Atlantic Ocean, no land. It is not only a case of looking at a modern map—we can imagine this map as well, since we are very familiar with it. However, this image of ours would differ greatly from the mental map of ancient or medieval people, since their imaginary map had as its basis not the existing, visual(ized) image, but oral stories and written descriptions, as well as their own experience (Bekker-Nielsen 1988; Brodersen 1995: here see the exhaustive bibliography). It is generally believed that mental maps are first of all connected with “everyday way-finding or giving directions” (see Couclelis 1996; сf. Tuan 1975), although they can refer to both the real and the imagined world. The term “mental map” (or “cognitive map”), as has been pointed out, is used in two different senses: to designate an image, a picture in a head; and “to denote physical artifacts recording how people perceive places” (Woodward, Lewis 1998, 3–4). What is meant, in fact, is an image on the one hand and its materialization in the form of a map-draft on the other. Both usages mentioned refer to the mental maps of discrete individuals, which, being reproduced, become clear to other people on the basis of a shared categorical language. However, alongside individual mental maps there exist in every society at a certain period of time such mental maps as reflect the spatial image common to the majority of the population, constituting part of the general “world view” of this particular society. This spatial image, though related to reality, is not directly connected to practical requirements (such as direction-giving and way-finding). Thus, the works of Old Norse literature— the product of creative activity on the part of early medieval Scandinavians, who were skilled seafarers and easily able to orientate themselves on sea and land long before the first maps appeared2—have reflected specific spatial ideas that could hardly have been used for practical purposes in everyday life. In this part of the book we shall dwell on the ideas of medieval Scandinavians about the “east” and the “Eastern part of the world” called Austrhálfa (chapter 1) and consider other place-names with the root aust-, such as Austrvegr “the Eastern way” (chapter 2) and Austmarr “the Eastern Sea,” or the Baltic Sea (chapter 3). We shall discuss how Scandinavians envisaged the possibility of traversing Eastern Europe (chapter 4) and what they knew about the East European rivers (chapter 5). We shall analyze how the designation of Old Rus’ Garðar/Garðaríki originated (chapter 6) and how Scandinavians imagined those twelve Old Russian towns, data on which they had preserved (chapters 7–9). Finally, we shall move to the European north, to the mysterious country of Bjarmaland (chapter 10). 2 Before portolan charts appeared in the late thirteenth century, there had been no nautical cartography in Western Europe. Tony Campbell believes that navigation depended almost entirely on the stored experience of captains who possessed mental maps of the regions visited (Campbell 1987, 386–87). Navigational experience, transferred from one generation of seafarers to another, was sufficient for orientation in space.
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Chapter 1
AUSTRHÁLFA ON THE MENTAL MAP OF MEDIEVAL SCANDINAVIANS IN THIS CHAPTER I intend to demonstrate that the early Scandinavians (as well as all Germans and—more broadly—Indo-Europeans) imagined the oecumene as divided into four parts, and that Eastern Europe belonged, in their minds, to the eastern quarter of the world. In the Latin medieval cosmography of Europe, the traditional division of the oecumene was tripartite. In those cases when a Scandinavian author grounded a “learned” introduction to his work on this tradition, the world was divided into thirds, as for instance in Snorri Sturluson’s Ynglinga saga (see below, p. 62). However, in describing certain geographical situations and sailings, in orienting in space, there came to the fore a natural and traditional for the early Scandinavians four-part division of the inhabited world (Jackson, Podossinov 1997). These ideas, as the Old Norse source material demonstrates (cf. Jackson 1994a, 1998), are as follows. The world consists of four quarters, according to the four cardinal directions.1 The set of lands in each segment of this mental map is invariable. The western quarter includes all the Atlantic lands, such as England, the Orkney and Shetland Islands, France, Spain, and even Africa. The eastern lands are the Baltic lands and the territories far beyond the Baltic Sea, such as Old Rus’ and Byzantium. The southern lands are Denmark and Saxony, Flanders and Rome. The northern quarter is formed by Norway itself, but also by Finnmark and, sometimes, by Bjarmaland. The latter is described as a territory lying on the borderline of the easterly and northerly segments, since it was thought to belong to the easterly quarter, but one could get there only by travelling northwards. Movement from one segment into another is defined not according to the compass points but according to the accepted naming of these segments, which means that spatial orientation is described in terms of a goal. Thus, when somebody goes from Sweden to Denmark he is said to go either suðr (to the south) (Hkr 1941, 349), because Denmark belongs to the “southern segment,” or to go austan (from the east) (Hkr 1951, 92), because Sweden belongs to the “eastern segment.” What is worth noting here is the fact often left unnoticed by translators of saga texts, that for medieval Scandinavians such pairs of adverbs as suðr (to the south) /norðan (from the north), or austan (from the east) /vestr (to the west), etc., were by no means pairs of synonyms. In the above example, a medieval Icelander would never have used norðan instead of suðr, or vestr instead of austan, because norðan—as he saw it—could be used to denote movement from Finnmark or from Norway, while vestr was to England, or some other islands in the Atlantic. Movement within segments is also defined not according to the compass points but according to the accepted naming of these segments. Any movement within the eastern quarter, for instance, is nearly always claimed to be a movement austr 1 On “a special attraction for Icelanders of a division of space into quarters” see Lindow 1994, 212.
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22 Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild
or austan, which in the majority of cases is “incorrect.” Thus, the Norwegian Øgmundr from Spánheimr is said in Hákonar saga Hákonarsonar (ch. 371) to have travelled from Bjarmaland (the land near the White Sea) austr (east) to the Suzdal’ Land (movement that a modern individual would describe as going south), and thence austr to the Novgorod Land (= west), and from there hit eystra (by the eastern, or more easterly, route) to the sea, and thus as far as Jerusalem (= south) (HákHák 1910–87, 371–72). The situation is similar in the western quarter. Thus, Sigurðr Jórsalafari in Snorri’s Magnússona saga (chs. 3–5) goes from Norway vestr to England, then vestr to France (= south), after that vestr along the coast of Spain (= south), which is why the heathen lands to the south of Lisbon (mentioned earlier in this chapter) are also said to be situated vestr þaðan “to the west of that place” (Hkr 1951, 240–42). The four-part world picture of medieval Scandinavians finds its reflection in the, stated by historians, division of the countries, towns, provinces, regions in the Germanic North, as well as the earth itself, into four quarters (сf. Müller 1938, 73). The specific importance of the four terms of direction is reflected in Germanic folklore, myth, and popular traditions. As Snorri Sturluson retells the creation myth in his Edda, Synir Bors drápu Ymi jǫtun. […] Þeir tóku Ymi ok fluttu í mitt Ginnungagap, ok gerðu af honum jǫrðina […] Tóku þeir ok haus hans ok gerðu þar af himin ok settu hann upp yfir jǫrðina með fjórum skautum, ok undir hvert horn settu þeir dverg. Þeir heita svá: Austri, Vestri, Norðri, Suðri. (Edda 2005, 11–12)
(Bor’s sons killed the giant Ymir […] transported him to the middle of Ginnungagap, and out of him made the earth […] They also took his skull and made out of it the sky and set it up over the earth with four points, and under each corner they set a dwarf. Their names are Austri, Vestri, Nordri, Sudri.) (Edda 1987, 12)
The text clearly indicates that for medieval Scandinavians the creation of the world out of an anthropomorphic body was inseparably linked with orientation on cardinal points. This might serve as evidence of a specific keenness of this culture on spatial orientation in general.2 The quadripartite division of the oecumene might be traced in a number of place-names, since place-names have always been “among the prime markers of this process of structuring the space” (Hastrup 1985, 50). Old Norse sources have preserved the names of all the four segments. They are Austrhálfa, “the Eastern region,” Vestr(h)álfa, “the Western region,” Suðr(h)álfa, “the Southern region,” and Norðr(h)álfa, “the Northern region” (Metzenthin 1941, 8–9, 76, 117; Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 35, 457, 603, 700). There are still more place-names in Old Norse literature that are connected 2 One cannot deny, however, that an archaic consciousness in practically all cultures of the world is characterized by a natural archetype of spatial division into four parts, oriented, as a rule, on cardinal points. It is well known that such widespread cosmological symbols as a cross, swastika, square, four-petal lotus, etc. reflect this very structure of cosmic and terrestrial space. Cf. Podossinov 1998.
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Austrhálfa on the Mental Map
23
with cardinal points and with a corresponding subdivision of the surrounding world. These are composites ending in -vegr/vegir(vegar), “way, road (in the singular and in the plural)” (Austrvegr, Vestrvegir, Suðrvegar, Nóregr < *Norðrvegr), -lǫnd, “lands (the plural form of land ‘land’)” (Austrlǫnd, Vestrlǫnd, Suðrlǫnd and Norðrlǫnd), and -ríki, “kingdom, state” (Austrríki and Suðrríki). One of the main categories in the Scandinavians’ perception and structuring of geographical space is the “way”/“route.” Most obviously, it is illustrated in the name of one of the Scandinavian countries, Norway.3 Cf. Old Icelandic Nóregr (< *Norðrvegr “the Northern way”), Old English Norðweg (Ohthere’s account in King Alfred’s Orosius), Latin Nordve(g)ia (Adam of Bremen), Norwegia (Historia Norwegie), Norvagia (Saxo Grammaticus); cf. modern Norwegian, Swedish, Danish Norge, Icelandic Noregur, English Norway, German Norwegen. However, along with the “Northern way,” the Old Norse-Icelandic sources have preserved other “ways.” Three “itinerary” terms have been preserved in a limited number of early texts, in the plural form alone: Norðrvegar (“the Northern ways” with the meaning of “the North”) occurs in the Eddic lay Helgakviða Hundingsbana in fyrri; Vestrvegir (literally “the Western ways,” in the meaning of “the British Isles”) in a Swedish runic inscription; Suðrvegar in the Eddic lay Guðrúnarkviða önnur and in Fostbræðra saga (“the Southern ways”), as well as in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by Oddr Snorrason (with the meaning of “the Southern lands,” as opposed to Norðrlǫnd). Austrvegr “the Eastern way,” on the contrary, is a frequently used place-name. It occurs in both the plural (Austrvegir in the early sources) and the singular (Austrvegr in later sources), the earliest mention being the Austrvegir (plural form) in the late ninth-century4 poem Ynglingatal by the Icelandic skald Þjóðólfr ór Hvini. These sources bear witness to the fact that the initial pattern for the formation of the above-named place-names had been “cardinal direction + vegir/vegar (plural of vegr ‘way’).” Originally, these names might have served as designations of various actual ways (routes) in an easterly, westerly, southerly, or northerly direction. But where did the starting point for all these ways lie? Where was the centre of this so to say “wind-rose”? It could hardly have been Norway, from the North Sea and the Skagerrak in the south to Finnmark in the north, because the country itself was understood as one of those ways, the way towards the north. It is evident that the original name of the country and that of its inhabitants, *Norðrvegr and Norðmenn, could not have been autochthonous (no people calls themselves northern or southern). The name had to have originated to the south of Norway, and this had to have happened long before the corresponding sources were written down. We have already tried to demonstrate elsewhere (Jackson, Podossinov 1997) that a birthplace of this “wind-rose” might have been in the main centre of Germanic settlement in the southern part of Scandinavia, as well as in northernmost Jutland and Sjælland. From here, mostly 3 This idea of mine has been recently supported by Eldar Heide (see Heide 2016), though without reference to my paper where it had been clearly expressed (Jackson 2009), with which he seems not to be acquainted.
4 Only if we do not accept the opposing view of Claus Krag (Krag 1991), who considers the poem a much more recent composition. See more detail on this in ch. 3.
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24 Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild
along the coast, Germanic tribes advanced slowly and in small groups to the north of Scandinavia. *Norðrvegr is likely to have received its name in the late fourth century ad when, according to archaeological data, new groups of Germanic tribes (those, at least, that gave names to the provinces of Hörðaland and Rogaland) migrated from the continent to the northwestern coast of the Scandinavian peninsula. The easiest way to get there from the continent was through the Danish islands and straits. This particular area had been at the heart of trading communications in Northern Europe,5 as the sea routes led to the east (the Baltic), to the west (the North Sea, the Atlantic Ocean), and to the north (along the west coast of the Scandinavian peninsula), while the land routes went southwards through Jutland and Germanic lands. Over the course of time, the semantics of the root veg-in the compounds of the “cardinal point + vegr” type had changed, and the meaning of place-names ending in -vegr, at least by the time of their written fixation, had become completely different from the total sum of the meanings of their parts. The main semantic components of the word vegr are: (1) departure point; (2) route; and (3) destination. There is every reason to think that eventually the root veg- in the compounds lost its main meaning and place- names ending in -vegr started to serve as a designation of lands, but not of routes. Nóregr turned into the name of the country, Norway. In its new phonetic shape—Nóregr instead of *Norðrvegr—it might no longer have been understood as “the way towards the north.”6 The name gradually turned into a self-denomination with a vague etymology, which is proved at least by medieval attempts to explain its derivation from a legendary King Nórr (Nóri).7 Austrvegr finally became the name of the East Baltic lands. To prove this point, we shall now concentrate on the development of Old Norse toponymy with the root aust-.
5 For instance, archaeologists have revealed the existence at the beginning of the first millennium bc of economic centres that served as focal points of trade for Northern and Central Europe in the area of Voldtofte on Fyn and the area of Boslund on Sjælland (see Thrane 1976; Jensen 1981).
6 However, the West Germanic languages have preserved the second root in its initial meaning (cf. the Old English Norðweg, English Norway, German Norwegen).
7 See the patronymic legend in Historia Norwegie, in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by Oddr Snorrason, in the initial chapters of Orkneyinga saga and in Hversu Nóregr byggðisk.
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Chapter 2
AUSTRVEGR AND OTHER AUST- PLACE-NAMES PLACE-NAMES WITH THE root aust- had never attracted particular attention, and, from a cursory glance, it was decided that these toponyms had no common meaning in different sources (or groups of sources). They were even considered to have been vague in their meaning, inaccurate, and uncertain (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 35–36; Sverdlov 1973, 49; Melnikova 1977b, 198–99). I have tried to show elsewhere that the “inconstancy” of the place-names with the root aust-reflects their real historical development (Jackson 1988). If we turn to all the texts pertaining to the history of Eastern Europe (from runic inscriptions to the late sagas), we shall be able to see the development of the Old Norse place-names with the root aust-in dynamics. The analysis carried out in my other works (Jackson 1989, 1993) shows that the ethno-geographical nomenclature of the Old Norse sources was formed simultaneously with the Scandinavian infiltration into Eastern Europe. We may even speak of two different ethno-geographical traditions (those of skaldic poetry, runic inscriptions and early sagas, on the one hand, and of geographical treatises, þulur and late sagas, on the other) that reflect a concrete chronological sequence of Scandinavian penetration into Eastern Europe, a progression in which Scandinavians moved along “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks.”1 Accordingly, the chronology of written fixation of place- names reflects the sequence of their emergence into the language of early Scandinavians.
Place-names with aust-in Runic Inscriptions and Skaldic Poetry
The earliest place-name, and also the one that has the widest meaning (= territories to the east of Scandinavia, from the Baltic Sea littoral to Byzantium), is a special geographical term austr “east.” It occurs in this sense in runic inscriptions and in skaldic poems of the tenth and eleventh centuries. There are only few cases when austr is used as a designation of a region within Scandinavia (Melnikova 1977b, 79); on the contrary, about twenty-five runic inscriptions, the earliest of which (Ög 8) is dated to the tenth century—stikuʀ. karþi kubl þau aft auint sunu sin. sa fial austr (“Stikur raised this monument in memory of his son Eyvindr. He fell in the east”)—commemorate men who died austr (DR: 66 (?), 108; Vg 184, 197; Vm 19; Sö 33, 92, 131, 216, 281, 308, 320; U 153, 154, 283, 504, 605, 644, 654, 661, 778, 898; Ög 8, 30, 145). Skaldic strophes that have preserved this term, without a precise geographical designation, are, however, exceptionally rare. Here follows strophe 6 from Gráfeldardrápa composed by the Icelandic skald Glúmr Geirason in 975, where austr has no specification, but still the context enables us to understand that it refers to the land of Bjarmar: 1 For this term of the Russian Primary Chronicle see RPC 1930, 53. See also Brim 1931; Lebedev 1975; Androshchuk 2013.
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26 Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild Austr rauð jǫfra þrýstir orðrakkr fyr bý norðan brand, þars bjarmskar kindir, brinnanda, sák rinna. Gótt hlaut gumna sættir (geirveðr) í fǫr þeiri (ǫðlingi fekksk ungum) orð (á Vínu borði).
({The word-bold crusher of princes} [KING = Haraldr] reddened the flashing sword in the east, north of the settlement, where I saw Bjarmar flee. {The reconciler of men} [KING = Haraldr] gained a good reputation on that expedition; {a spear-storm} [BATTLE] was granted to the young prince on the banks of the Vína.) (Finlay 2012a, 255)2
Hilmir lét at Holmi hræskóð roðin blóði —hvat of dylði þess hǫlðar?— hǫrð ok austr í Gǫrðum.
(The prince caused {hard corpse-harmers} [SWORDS] to be reddened in blood at Hólmr and east in Garðar; why should men conceal that?) (Whaley 2012, 395)3
In runic inscriptions and skaldic poetry one can encounter austr functioning as an adverb, with an indirect object defining the area in the east more precisely: for instance, austr í Görðum, austr í Grikkjum appears ten times out of thirty-five in runic inscriptions (Vm 1–2; Sö 121, 148, 338; Sm 46; 63, 70, U 439, Ög 81), including on a stone from the Tyringe church in Södermanland (Sö 338) dedicated to someone called Thorsteinn: han. fial . i . urustu . austr . i . garþum (“he fell in the battle, east in Garðar”), and a large number of mentions in skaldic strophes (Skj. 1967, 157, 201, 573, 338, 385, 394, etc.), like in Óláfsdrápa 4 by Hallfreðr vandræðaskáld:
In Old Norse texts we come across three interchangeable compounds with the root aust-: Austrvegr “the Eastern way,” Austrlǫnd “the Eastern lands,” and Austrríki “the Eastern state.” The difference of their meanings follows from the difference of meanings of their second elements. While Austrríki (from austr “east” and ríki “kingdom, state”), built on a typical Scandinavian pattern for the designation of state formations, X-ríki, can serve as a name of this or that state in the east, Austrvegr and Austrlǫnd (the latter from austr “east” and lǫnd “lands”) have a wider meaning (from the point of view of a territory that may be implied). The difference in their semantics is mirrored by the difference of their grammatical forms: Austrlǫnd, as opposed to Austrvegr, is used only in the plural. Austrvegr must have referred to the lands where initially “the Eastern ways” passed, while Austrlǫnd is somewhere close in its meaning to Austrhálfa “the Eastern region,” although, of course, it is less concrete. I think that such correlation of toponyms ending in -vegr and -lǫnd might be proved by the aforementioned fact that *Norðrvegr (in the 2 With my emendations in translation: Bjarmar instead of Permian people and Vína instead of Dvina. 3 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia.
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Austrvegr and Other aust-Place-names
27
form of Nóregr) serves as a designation of one country on the Scandinavian peninsula, and Norðrlǫnd of all Scandinavian countries. The earliest compound with the root aust-in Old Norse texts is the word Austrvegir (plural form) used in the late ninth century by Þjóðólfr ór Hvini in Ynglingatal 8: Frák at Dagr dauða orði frægðar fúss of fara skyldi, þás valteins til Vǫrva kom spakfrǫmuðr Spǫrs at hefna. Ok þat orð á austrvega vísa ferð frá vígi bar, at þann gram of geta skyldi slǫnguþref Sleipnis verðar. (Marold 2012b, 21)
(Dagr, I heard, death’s judgement —keen for fame— encountered, when to Vǫrvi came the advancer of the sword, sagacious one, a sparrow to avenge. And on eastern ways this word the king’s host from combat brought: a serving-fork of Sleipnir’s food it was that gave that gramr his death.)
Austrlǫndum fórsk undir allvaldr, sás gaf skǫldum —hann fekk gagn at gunni— gunnhǫrga slǫg mǫrgum. Slíðrtungur lét syngva sverðleiks reginn—ferðir sendi gramr at grundu gollvarpaða*—snarpar.
(The mighty ruler, who gave many poets {strikers {of battle-temples}} [SHIELDS > WEAPONS], subdued Austrlǫnd; he gained success in war. {The god of {sword-play}} [BATTLE > WARRIOR] made {keen scabbard- tongues} [SWORDS] sing; the prince sent troops {of gold-throwers} [GENEROUS MEN] to the ground.) (Finlay 2012a, 252)4
(Hkr 2011, 21)
The singular form of this place-name (Austrvegr) occurs in five runic inscriptions of the eleventh century. In four of them, as well as in Þjóðólfr’s strophe, the meaning of the place- name is not evident (Vg 135; Sö 34–35, 126, 335), while in the fifth one, from Södermanland, dating to the first half of the eleventh century—han. iʀ . entaþr . i . austruiki . ut . o . la- (“He died in the Eastern way, far in La-”)—there is a specification which runologists, still with some uncertainty, read as “far in Langabardaland” (cf. Jansson 1954). Glúmr Geirason in Gráfeldardrápa 4 used the composite Austrlǫnd, and that is its earliest occurrence:
4 With my emendation in translation: Austrlǫnd instead of eastern lands.
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28 Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild
The poetic text does not reveal the skald’s understanding of the name in question, but in the above quoted strophe 6 of the same poem the term austr occurs in the description of the king’s battle with the Bjarms on the banks of the Vína river (the Northern Dvina). We can assume that the place-names with the root aust- are synonymous here and refer to some northern territories of Eastern Europe (from the Baltic Sea to the Northern Dvina). Thus, the skaldic and runic sources of the ninth through the eleventh centuries reflect the initial stage of the development of the Old Norse toponymy with the root aust-, corresponding to the first period of Scandinavian penetration into Eastern Europe which, however, happened some centuries earlier than the skaldic poems were composed and the runic stones were erected (Lebedev 1980, 90–91, 94–95). The meaning of the place-names with the root aust-used in these sources was extremely broad, so that they could denote any territory to the east of Norway and Denmark.
Place-names with aust- in the Early Kings’ Sagas
The early kings’ sagas (Ágrip af Nóregskonunga sǫgum; Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by Oddr Snorrason; Morkinskinna)5 have preserved the toponymy with the root aust- on the next stage of its development: austr is no longer used as a geographical term, but only as a locative adverb; compounds Austrvegr and Austrlǫnd, as well as Austrríki, are used to denote the lands along “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks.” For example, we read in Ágrip that after the fall of Óláfr Haraldsson his step-brother Haraldr Sigurðarson “flýði […] braut ýr landi ok í Austrvega ok svá til Miklagarðs” (Ágrip 1985, 32) (“fled the land, and to the Eastern ways, and thus to Constantinople”), and some time later he sailed “heim ór Garði [Miklagarði] um Austrveg” (Ágrip 1985, 36) (“home from Constantinople, through the Eastern way”). Morkinskinna, describing Haraldr’s trip from Miklagarðr, states that “þaðan ferr hann um Austrríki til Hólmgarðs” (Msk 2011, 1:114) (“therefrom he travelled through the Eastern state to Novgorod”). It is evident that Byzantium is excluded from a number of lands denoted by these place-names in the early sagas. On the contrary, the names imply only Rus’: Oddr in his Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar calls Vissivaldr “Austrvegskonungr” (ÓTOddr 2006, 226) (“the king of the Eastern way”), while in Snorri Sturluson’s Separate Óláfs saga helga he is “Vísivaldr, austan ór Garðaríki” (Hkr 1945, 436) (“Vísivaldr, from Rus’ in the east”). It is said in Ágrip that Ingigerðr, the daughter of Óláfr sœnski (the Swedish), was given in marriage to “Jarizláfr Austrvegs konungr” (Ágrip 1985, 26) (“Yaroslav, the king of the Eastern way”),6 who is named by Snorri as “Jarizleifr konungr austan ór Hólmgarði” (Hkr 1945, 5 I must emphasize that though Morkinskinna can, for some formal reasons, be placed among the great compendia of 1220–1230, it can also be viewed as one of those original sagas “which seem to have been composed in a great burst of literary activity between 1190 and 1220” (Andersson 1985, 213, 216–19). The specific character of Morkinskinna finds its reflection, among other things, in toponymics.
6 Note how consistently M. J. Driscoll translates Austrvegr as “Russia” (Ágrip 1995, 39, 41, 45, 47, 53).
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147) (“Yaroslav, king from Novgorod in the east”). Ágrip also tells of the noble men from Norway, who sailed to Rus’ to fetch the young King Magnús who had been brought up there, how they “sóttu í Austrvega til Jarizláfs konungs” (Ágrip 1985, 32) (“went to the Eastern ways to King Yaroslav”). The heroes of Morkinskinna, discussing whether it is worth travelling “í Austrveg” (“to the Eastern way”), come to the conclusion that the absence of trade peace between kings Yaroslav and Sveinn could be a hindrance in this enterprise (Msk 2011, 1:7). Thus, we can believe that, on the second stage of their development, fixed in the early kings’ sagas, place-names with the root aust- reflect (although not one-to-one chronologically) the existence of the Volkhov–Dnieper route “from the Varangians to the Greeks” and the role played by Rus’ on this route. This means that the toponymy of the early kings’ sagas was formed in the late ninth, or at the beginning of the tenth, century.
Place-names with aust- in Later Sources
Further development of the toponymy with the root aust-is related both to the historical situation when in the eleventh century “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks” lost its significance and Russian–Scandinavian relations received a new character,7 and to the “literary life,” as it may be called, of these place-names. The major compendia of 1220–1230 (Fagrskinna and Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla) consistently use the newly formed place-name Garðaríki (the secondary derivation from Garðar) (to be discussed in chapter 6) to denote Rus’. Consequently, the meaning of Austrvegr and its synonyms is narrowed, since they are used now to denote only the East Baltic lands. Still we can come across austr (“to the east”) with an indirect object defining the area more precisely, and the destination might lie anywhere to the east of the Baltic Sea. The return trip is often described as the way austan (“from the east”). To find out which lands are implied by the composite place-names with aust-, let us first turn to the speech of Þorgnýr, the lawspeaker, addressed to Óláfr, the king of Sweden, at the Uppsala Assembly in 1018: Þorgnýr, fǫðurfaðir minn, munði Eirík Uppsalakonung Emundarson ok sagði þat frá honum, at meðan hann var á léttasta aldri, at hann hafði hvert sumar leiðangr úti ok fór til ýmissa landa ok lagði undir sik Finnland ok Kirjálaland, Eistland ok Kúrland ok víða um Austrlǫnd. […] En ef þú vill vinna aptr undir þík ríki þau í Austrvegi, er frændr þínir ok forellri hafa þar átt, þá vilium vér allir fylgja þér þar til. (Hkr 1945, 115–16)
(My grandfather Þorgný remembered King Eiríkr Emundarson of Uppsalir, and said this of him, that while he was in his best years he took a levy out every summer and travelled to various countries and subjected to himself Lappland and Kirjálaland, Eistland and Kúrland and many places in the eastern lands. […] 7 See papers collected in Melnikova 2011; cf. Franklin, Shepard 1996.
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30 Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild
But if you want to win back into your power those realms in the eastern Baltic that your kinsmen and forefathers have had there, then we will all support you in that.) (Hkr 2014, 74)
In the text quoted here the name Austrlǫnd refers to the lands in the Austrvegr and includes at least Finnland (which I would translate as “Finland,” rather than “Lappland”), Kirjálaland “Karelia,” Eistland “Estonia,” and Kúrland “Courland.” The term Austrvegsmenn (the plural form of Austrvegsmaðr) “the inhabitants of the Austrvegr” enables us to bring to light some other lands in the Austrvegr. Thus, Magnús the Good, appointing Sveinn Úlfsson to rule Denmark in his absence, notes: En svá sem þér vituð, at allir Danir hafa í sumar gǫrzk minir menn, þá er nú landit hǫfðingjalaust, er ek em í brot farinn, en þar er, sem þér vituð, mjǫk herskátt af Vinðum ok Kúrum ok ǫðrum Austrvegsmǫnnum eða svá Sǫxum. (Hkr 1951, 37)
(And as you know, since all Danes have this summer become my subjects, so the country is without a ruler, now that I have left it, though as you know it is very subject to raids there from the Vinðr and Kúrir and other eastern Baltic peoples, and likewise from Saxons.) (Hkr 2015, 22–23)
These words indicate that the Danes and the Saxons were excluded from the Austrvegsmenn, while Vinðir, the Wends (= the Baltic Slavs), and the Curonians were among them. Thus, it is clear from the sources that on the third stage of their development, the place-names with the root aust- refer to the territories settled by the Finns, the Karelians, the Estonians, the Curonians, and the Wends, that is, to the Baltic Sea region. Austrvegr denotes only coastal lands along where the road lay at that time, in contrast to the term Austrlǫnd, which has a wider meaning. It is notable that the major compendia of 1220–1230 (as well as the earliest sources, skaldic poems, and runic inscriptions) do not use the place-name Austrríki. The earlier case can be explained by the fact that the geographical nomenclature of skaldic poems and runic inscriptions had developed before the eleventh, or the twelfth, century when the X-ríki pattern for the designation of state formations appeared in Old Norse literature (cf. Krag 1971). With later sources, however, the situation is different. At a period of time when the toponymy with the root aust- came to have the meaning of the East Baltic lands, there was no state formation there that could be denoted by the place-name Austrríki. It should be noted that the non-terminological character of the toponymy with the root aust- resulted in the fact that it was not much used in geographical treatises of the twelfth through the fourteenth centuries (see Melnikova 1986, 196).8 Only one 8 The original information concerning the territory of Eastern Europe contained in the general descriptions of the world goes back to local tradition, reflecting the familiarity of Scandinavians
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text mentions that “i gegnum Danmork gengr sior i austr-veg” (AÍ 1908, 11) (“through Denmark the sea runs to the Eastern way”), while the other one uses the term Austrríki to explain the origin of the word Asia: “Asía hefir nafn tekið af konu nakkvari, er í fornum tímum hèlt Austrríki” (AR 1852, 443) (“Asia was called after a woman who in the old times ruled in the Eastern state”). On the whole, no matter how paradoxical this conclusion may sound, the development of the semantics of the Old Norse place-names with the root aust-is a specific (chronologically inaccurate) reflection of the development by stages of Russian–Scandinavian relations of the ninth through the eleventh centuries, as well as of those social and political processes that took place in Eastern Europe at that time.
with the East European region. Information here (lists of lands, cities, rivers) is not subject to deliberate distortion, although it has a number of features due to the nature of the accumulation of information and the origin of these treatises (see Pritsak 1981, 503–50; Melnikova 1986).
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Chapter 3
AUSTMARR, “THE EASTERN SEA,” THE BALTIC SEA THIS CHAPTER IS dedicated to the sea separating the northern and eastern parts of the world, that is, the Baltic Sea, which bore the name of “the Eastern Sea” in Old Norse literature. Travel in various forms and to increasingly remote and challenging destinations is taken for granted in contemporary society. In the Middle Ages it too was an indispensable (sine qua non) condition of life. Travel was a substantial part of medieval life. It is undoubtedly true that a great many people may have been born, lived, and died in the same place. However, there were groups of people who did travel, and given the conditions of the time, they travelled most adventurously and sometimes very far. Traders, warriors, fortune hunters, missionaries, messengers, and many others moved from one place to another trading, harrying, carrying out their missions of different kinds. These people served as vital links, connecting distant corners of the world and spreading both fables and news. Baltic traffic in the Viking age and the Early Middle Ages was at the core of life within one of the European subcontinents—namely within the vast territories of northern and northeastern Europe around the Baltic Sea. The peoples who lived there belonged to different families of languages: they were of Germanic, Slavic, Baltic, and Finno-Ugric origin, but there had always been manifold economic, social, political, and cultural connections among them, and the Baltic Sea played the role of means of communication. In the eighth and the ninth centuries people living in this subcontinent witnessed the period of formation of a network of international routes that connected typologically similar trade centres. The exchange of goods, the so-called “Baltic trade,” increased on the basis of common currencies—this currency first being glass beads, then Arab silver, and later German and English silver coinage. Proto-urban centres of the Baltic Sea region (such as Kaupang, Birka, Hedeby, Ladoga, and others) developed the “Baltic urban culture” which was quite uniform. This “community” of towns, peoples, and countries of the Baltic region in the eighth through the eleventh centuries is referred to in Russian research literature as the “Baltic subcontinental civilization” (Lebedev 1985). Kristel Zilmer uses a different notion to designate the same region, and this is the geographical concept of “the Baltic Sea drainage basin.” The application of this concept proves really useful and enables her to broaden the scope of her material. Thus, studying runic inscriptions, she considers runic references to inter-regional Scandinavian connections as evidence of Baltic traffic. According to this broader perspective, references to Garðar (Old Rus’) are also understood in the similar way. Zilmer explains that “the importance of Garðar also comes from its central position in the crossing of major trade routes that led from the Baltic down to southern and southeastern Europe” (Zilmer 2005, 147).
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The first to use the name “Baltic Sea” (Balticum mare) was Adam of Bremen1 in the History of the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen (ca. 1070).2 Speaking about this sea, Adam (II, 18) refers to his source of information: “De cuius freti natura breviter in Gestis Karoli meminit Einhardus, cum de bello diceret Sclavanico” (“Of the nature of this body of water Einhard made brief mention in his Gesta of Charles when he wrote of the Slavic war”) (Adam 1917, 74; Adam 2002, 64). And in the next paragraph (II, 19) he gives a lengthy quotation from the Vita Karoli Magni written between 817 and 836 by the Frankish scholar Einhard (see Einhard 2005, 78): Sinus, ait, quidam ab occidentali occeano orientem versus porrigitur, longitudinis quidem incompertae, latitudinis vero, quae nusquam C milia passuum excedat, cum in multis locis contractior inveniatur. Hunc multae circumsident nationes. Dani siquidem ac Sueones, quos Nortmannos vocamus, et septentrionale litus et omnes in eo insulas tenent. At litus australe Sclavi et aliae diversae incolunt nationes, inter quos vel precipui sunt, quibus tunc a rege bellum inferebatur, Wilzi. (Adam 1917, 75)
(“There is a gulf,” he says, “that stretches from the Western Ocean toward the east, of unknown length, but nowhere more than a hundred miles in breadth, and in many places much narrower. Many nations live along the shores of this sea. The Danes and the Swedes, whom we call Northmen, hold both its northern shore and all the islands off it. The Slavs and various other nations dwell along the southern shore. Among them by far the most important are the Wilzi, against whom the king at that time waged war.”) (Adam 2002, 64)
One of Einhard’s characteristics of this sea might have given birth to Adam’s fundamentally important mental construction in which, by means of logical reflection, he connected his source material with abstract literary knowledge. I am referring to the words of Einhard quoted by Adam in II, 19 that “there is a gulf […] that stretches from the Western Ocean toward the east, of unknown length.” In IV, 10, writing, as he himself says, “in the manner of a commentator,” that is, “setting forth […] in greater detail” what Einhard “discussed in abridged form” (“explanationis more utor, ea quae ille per compendium dixit pleniori calamo nostris scienda proponens”), Adam treats the name of the sea in the following way: “Sinus ille ab incolis appellatur Balticus, eo quod in modum baltei longo tractu per Scithicas regions tendatur usque in Greciam, idemque mare Barbarum seu pelagus Sciticum vocatur a gentibus, quas alluit, barbaris” (“This gulf is by the inhabitants called the Baltic because, after a manner of a baldric, it extends a long distance through the Scythian regions even to Greece. It is also named the Barbarian Sea or Scythian Lake, from the barbarous peoples whose lands it washes”) (Adam 1917, 1 This hydronym is used thirteen times in the main text (I, 60; II, 40; IV, 5, 10, 14, 19, 20, 23, 25, 31) and five times in the scholia (nos. 15, 29, 94, 104, 116). 2 I assert this according to Alexander Nazarenko (1999, 275).
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238; Adam 2002, 193). Indeed, the Latin balteus is a “belt,” and such folk-etymological interpretation by Adam is quite understandable. Why the sea stretches “through the Scythian regions” and is called the Scythian Sea, I have discussed in my other work (Jackson 2014a). But why does it extend “even to Greece?” In my opinion, the extensive inquiries of his contemporaries, and especially his Scandinavian informants, were to open up to Adam the four-part world picture we discussed above of the early medieval Scandinavians (see chapter 1), according to which Grikland (Greece) was in the east, as well as the Baltic lands and Garðar (Old Rus’). This particular vision of the world, supported by the knowledge of the existence of an actively used waterway along which one could get “from the Varangians to the Greeks,” was, I am sure, reflected in Adam’s work in the form of the Baltic/Scythian Sea, going from Scandinavia in the eastern direction as far as Old Rus’ and Greece. Adam’s work, along with Honorius of Autun’s Imago mundi, served as a source and model for an anonymous Latin chronicle Historia Norwegie written in Norway a century later (Mortensen 2003, 17; Mortensen 2011, 58–59). Describing the geographical position of Norway, the author of Historia Norwegie (no doubt, following Adam) gives the Baltic Sea the name of mare Balticum: “Circumsepta quidem ex occasu et aquilone refluentis Occeani, a meridie uero Daciam et Balticum Mare habet, sed de sole Swethiam, Gautoniam, Angariam, Iamtoniam” (“To the west and north, Norway is enclosed by the Ocean tides, to the south lie Denmark and the Baltic Sea, while to the east are Sweden, Götaland, Ångermanland and Jämtland”) (HN 2003, 52/53, I5). The author of the chronicle does not specify the extent of this sea, but while in the above example the Baltic Sea neighbours Denmark (that is, the Danish straits connecting this sea to the ocean), twice more it is named in the vicinity of the Estonian island Saaremaa (Eycisla/Eysisla), which indicates that the sea was known to the compiler of the chronicle and was not entirely due to Adam, as Adam had not been familiar with its southeastern shores. The Baltic Sea in the Old Norse sources is attested as the Eastern Sea (Austmarr, Eystrasalt). This particular naming, no doubt, corresponded with the general complex of Old Norse spatial ideas, as the sea belonged within the eastern quarter (Austrhálfa), the eastern lands (Austrlǫnd) formed its littoral, and the eastern way (Austrvegr) led along the sea or along the lands on its shores (which enabled the latter place-name to change its meaning into a designation of those lands). As Kristel Zilmer writes in her article on the Baltic Sea, where she shares my outline of the Old Norse mental map, “the general concept of the East Sea accords with the Old Norse mental map showing the sea as part of the eastern quarter of the world” (Zilmer 2010, 117). The hydronym Austmarr is formed from austr “east” and marr “the sea.” Richard Cleasby and Guðbrandr Vigfússon define it as “the east sea, the east Baltic” and point for comparison to Estmere in Wulfstan’s account in King Alfred’s Old English Orosius (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 35). The meaning of the latter is somewhat narrower, as the Estmere is thought to have been a designation of the Vistula Lagoon, or the Gdansk Bay (cf. Gindin, Litavrin 1991, 140), although their origin might have been the same: both names could have emerged as a designation of a gulf “that stretches from the Western Ocean toward the east” (to quote Einhard).
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36 Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild
Austmarr is a hapax legomenon since it occurs only once in the written record of Old Norse-Icelandic literature. Nevertheless, it is easy to decipher: posing no problems in translation, the hydronym is traditionally understood as a designation of the Baltic Sea. The only mention of the hydronym Austmarr belongs to the Icelandic skald Þjóðólfr ór Hvinir in his poem Ynglingatal which is thought by the majority of scholars (see, for instance, Åkerlund 1939; Turville-Petre 1982; Zilmer 2010) to have been the main source of Ynglinga saga, the first saga of the compendium of the kings’ sagas Heimskringla by Snorri Sturluson, wherefrom this poem is known to us. Out of thirty-two skaldic stanzas quoted in the saga, twenty-seven are by Þjóðólfr. The saga opens up with a description of the world circle (kringla heimsins) in accordance with medieval geographical ideas; then follows the original presentation, occurring in this form nowhere else in Old Norse texts, of a learned legend concerning the settlement of Scandinavia by the immigrants from Asia headed by Óðinn; then follows a very detailed account of the Yngling dynasty that got its name from Freyr (“Freyr hét Yngvi ǫðru nafni. Yngva nafn var lengi síðan haft í hans ætt fyrir tígnarnafn, ok Ynglingar váru síðan kallaðir hans ættmenn” [“Another name for Freyr was Yngvi. The name Yngvi was used in his family long after as honorific title, and his descendants were called Ynglingar” (Hkr 1941, 24; Hkr 2011, 14)]), including information on the nature of their rule and on the circumstances of the death of each representative of the dynasty. The list starts with Óðinn, and the last to be named is Rǫgnvaldr heiðumhæri: Rǫgnvaldr hét son Óláfs, er konungr var á Vestfold eptir fǫður sinn. Hann var kallaðr heiðumhæri. Um hann orti Þjóðólfr inn hvinverski Ynglingatal. Þar segir hann svá: Þat veitk bazt und blǫ́ um himni kenninafn, svát konungr eigi, es Rǫgnvaldr reiðar stjóri heiðumhǫ́ r of heitinn er. (Hkr 1941, 83)
(The son of Óláfr, who was king in Vestfold after his father, was called Rǫgnvaldr. He was known as heiðumhæri (Nobly Grey). In his honour Þjóðólfr ór Hvinir composed Ynglingatal. In it he says this: I know to be best under blue skies the byname borne by the king, for Rǫgnvaldr, ruler of the host, ‘Nobly Grey’ has as his name.) (Hkr 2011, 47)
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Þjóðólfr ór Hvinir was an Icelandic skald of the late ninth century, and the prevailing view allowed no doubt in this dating of his poem. However, Claus Krag (1991) put forward an idea of a much later origin of Ynglingatal claiming it to have been a learned compilation of the twelfth century written with the aim of proving the legitimacy of the Norwegian kings. His reasons were accepted and even supported with extra argumentation by Peter Sawyer (1992). The contrary opinion was expressed simultaneously by Gro Steinsland (1991) who had not been familiar with Krag’s work. Decisive and strong disagreement with Krag’s conclusions on the date of Ynglingatal was formulated by Bjarne Fidjestøl (1994), C. D. Sapp (2002), Olof Sundqvist (2002), Dagfinn Skre (2007), John McKinnell (2009, 124–25n4) and some others. To my mind, they sound more convincing, and I will add below my other argument in support of the early dating. In chapter 32 of his Ynglinga saga Snorri Sturluson quotes a strophe by Þjóðólfr that contains the hydronym Austmarr: Yngvarr hét sonr Eysteins konungs, er þá var konungr yfir Svíaveldi. Hann var hermaðr mikill ok var opt á herskipum, því at þá var áðr Svíaríki mjǫk herskátt, bæði af Dǫnum ok Austrvegsmǫnnum. Yngvarr konungr gerði frið við Dani, tók þá at herja um Austrvegu. Á einu sumri hafði hann her úti ok fór til Eistlands ok herjaði þar um sumarit, sem heitir at Steini. Þá kómu Eistr ofan með mikinn her, ok áttu þeir orrostu. Var þá landherrinn svá drjúgr, at Svíar fengu eigi mótstǫðu. Fell Þá Yngvarr konungr, en lið hans flýði. Hann er heygðr þar við sjá sjálfan. Þat er á Aðalsýslu. Fóru Svíar heim eptir ósigr þenna. Svá segir Þjóðólfr: Þat stǫkk upp, at Yngvari Sýslu kind of sóit hafði ok ljóshǫmum við lagar hjarta
herr eistneskr at hilmi vá, ok austmarr jǫfri fǫllnum Gymis ljóð at gamni kveðr.
(Hkr 1941, 61–62)
(The son of King Eysteinn, who was king over the realm of the Svíar then, was called Yngvarr. He was a great warrior and was often out on warships, because up to that time the land of the Svíar had been very much subject to raids, both from Danes and the eastern Baltic peoples. King Yngvarr made peace with the Danes, and then began to raid around the Baltic. One summer he took out an army and went to Eistland (Estonia) and raided during the summer, at the place called Steinn. Then Eistr (Estonians) came down with a large army, and they had a battle. The native army was so numerous that the Svíar could put up no resistance. Then King Yngvarr died and his army fled. He is buried in a mound there, close by the sea. This is in Aðalsýsla. The Svíar went home after this defeat. So says Þjóðólfr:
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38 Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild It was said that Yngvarr was by Sýsla people put to death, and off ‘sea’s heart’ the host of Eistr
slew the leader, the light-hued one, and the eastern sea sings the lay of Gymir to cheer the fallen king.)
(Hkr 2011, 34)
According to the skaldic strophe, Yngvarr definitely goes to Estonia (Eistland): he is killed by the people of Sýsla (Sýslu kind) and an Estonian force (herr Eistneskr). Sýsla is an abbreviation of the Old Norse name for the island of Saaremaa (Ösel), Eysýsla (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 616). I can hardly agree with Henrik Schück that sýsla in Þjóðólfr’s strophe was not a place-name, but a special term for the designation of skattland (Schück 1910). To my mind, the identity of Sýsla and Eysýsla in Þjóðólfr’s strophe can be verified by the anonymous chronicle Historia Norwegie written down in the 1160s or 1170s (see Mortensen 2011, 59), thus predating Snorri’s writing, and to some extent independent of saga tradition. The place of Yngvarr’s death is also called here Eycisla: “Huius filius Ynguar, qui cognominatus est Canutus, in expedicione occisus est in quadam insula Baltici Maris, que ab indigenis Eycisla uocatur” (“His son Yngvar, nicknamed the Hoary, was killed by the inhabitants while campaigning on an island in the Baltic called Ösel”) (HN 2003, 78–79). Lagar hjarta “the heart of the water” is a kenning used to denote a stone or an island. Snorri is likely to have given preference to the first meaning (“a stone”) and designated the place where Yngvarr had fallen with a popular Scandinavian place-name at Steini (used by him three times more: for a farmstead in Svíþjóð in mikla and two places in Norway) (Hkr 1941, 27, 93; Hkr 1945, 76), while the skald might have meant “an island,” i.e., Sýsla “Saaremaa” (see Schück 1910, 144; Åkerlund 1939, 105; Hkr 1901, 4:19). Snorri, in turn, sends Yngvarr from Denmark around the Baltic (um Austurvegu). He mentions Eistland, since (according to his skaldic source of information) Yngvarr was killed by the Estonian force (herr Eistneskr). But he reads the skaldic Sýsla as an abbreviation of Aðalsýsla, a designation for the Estonian mainland lying across the Väinameri Strait from the Lääne-Eesti saarestik (i.e. West Estonian archipelago = Moonsund archipelago) to which Saaremaa belongs—namely Läänemaa. Regardless of whose reading is correct, that of Snorri or of the majority of scholars, why should the waters in the Vistula Lagoon sing the songs of Gymir to the delight of the Swedish ruler who perished on Saaremaa or in Läänemaa? Bjarni Aðalbjarnarson quite correctly, in my opinion, renders Austmarr as Eystrasalt (Hkr 1941, 62), using a widespread Old Norse designation for the Baltic Sea. As for the former name, it occupies a justifiable place in the semantic row of place-names with the root aust-that was being formed on the early stages of Scandinavian movement in the easterly direction and their penetration into Eastern Europe (see chapter 2; Jackson 2003b), which corroborates my opinion of the early origin of the poem Ynglingatal. The hydronym Eystrasalt is formed from eystri, a comparative degree of austr “east,” and salt “salt,” the latter noun also used of the sea (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957,
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136, 510). It means hit eystra salt, literally “the more eastern sea.” Its first occurrence is also in a skaldic strophe, in Magnússdrápa (Hrynhenda) 4 composed ca. 1046 by Arnórr jarlaskáld Þórðarson, where the skald describes warships with “girzkr (Russian) armour” (cf. Jackson 2014b) of the future Norwegian king Magnús Óláfsson on his voyage from Rus’ across the Baltic Sea: Herskip vannt af harða stinnum hlunni geyst í Salt it Eystra; skjǫldungr, stétt á skǫrum hvéldan skeiðar húf með girzku reiði. Vafðir lítt, en vendir bifðusk; varta hrǫkk, en niðr nam søkkva; geystisk hlýr, en hristi bára, hrími stokkin, búnar grímur.
(You made warships surge [lit. surged, propelled] from the most firm launcher into the Baltic; king, you boarded the warship’s hull, curved by its jointed planks, [and] with Russian tackle. You wavered little, but masts shuddered; the prow jolted, and started to plunge; the bow surged on, and the billow, flecked with rime, shook the adorned figure-heads.) (Whaley 2009a, 187–89)
The hydronym in question can be shortened from Eystrasalt to simply Salt (we know similar pairs of place-names: Eysýsla and Sýsla, Miklagarðr and Garðr), to quote another poem by Arnórr jarlaskáld, Magnússdrápa 2 (1047), where the poet describes Magnús’s return from Rus’ to Sigtuna in the following words: “Salt skar húfi héltum / hraustr þjóðkonungr austan” (“The valiant mighty king clove the salt with rime-spread hull from the east”) (Whaley 2009b, 209–10), or Hǫfuðlausn 4 (early 1020s) by Óttarr svarti where the skald describes the “decorated oars alongside the ships” during Óláfr Haraldsson’s expedition “austr í salt” (“east on the salt sea”) (Townend 2012, 746). Still another pair of words, salt being one of them, indicates in skaldic poetry the Baltic Sea. I have in mind the second helming (half) of strophe 21 from Austrfararvísur composed ca. 1019 by the Icelandic skald Sigvatr Þórðarson about his journey to Vestra- Gautland in Sweden to meet Jarl Rǫgnvaldr. This strophe is quoted in Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla as the skald’s answer to the question of King Óláfr Haraldsson who wonders what kind of friend Rǫgnvaldr is to him (Hkr 1945, 145). Sigvatr replies: “Þann veitk […] /þik baztan vin miklu /á austrvega eiga /allt með grœnu salti” (“In him I know you […] to have by far the best friend in the Eastern ways all along the green brine”) (Fulk 2012a, 613).3 As we have discussed above (chapter 2), “the east” of the skaldic poetry was in the circum-Baltic region and beyond, and the expression grœna salt “the green salt/brine/ sea,” though not a widespread hydronym, without doubt, referred to the Baltic Sea (see, for instance, Bjarni Adalbjarnarsson’s note in Hkr 1945, 145). To mention an interesting aside that deserves investigation: “the green sea” is one of the names of the northern part of the Atlantic Ocean in medieval Muslim geography (see Kalinina 1988, 140–51). Eystrasalt occurs not only in skaldic poetry, but also in the different types of sagas. I will not, however, deal here with the latter name, as it has been discussed in detail 3 With my emendation: I have substituted in the east for in the Eastern ways.
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by Kristel Zilmer (see Zilmer 2006, 2010). It is worth noting that the Baltic Sea was so familiar to Scandinavian seafarers that they even made a distinction between the term Austmarr bearing the idea of “easternness” and the more general name Eystrasalt “referring first and foremost to the central and eastern Baltic Sea (geographically, also called the Baltic Proper)” (Zilmer 2006, 244). For the peoples of Scandinavia the Baltic Sea was a focus of their lives due to its “strategic position” and “the extent of vivid communication between the regions that are linked together by the sea” (Zilmer 2005, 321). It was, as Zilmer puts it, “a ‘sea of contact’ rather than that of division.” It functioned as an arena for various activities such as commerce, transportation, looting, and military clashes. At the same time, it was part of “a broader network of travel routes that connected Northern Europe with areas to the east and south and formed a transit zone or a gateway that provided access to larger territories” (Zilmer 2010, 100–101). Judging by the paucity of references in the sagas to the two hydronyms mentioned above (Austmarr, Eystrasalt), or by the number of indications that this or that saga character “boarded a ship,” “went out to sea,” “sailed from one place to another,” one might get a false impression that the sea is hardly ever mentioned in the sagas. For example, the route from Sweden to Novgorod via Ladoga, and thus through the Baltic Sea, the Gulf of Finland, the Neva, the Ladoga Lake, the Volkhov and Il’men’, is rarely described in the sagas. Only sometimes is it mentioned that on the way back from Novgorod to Scandinavia travellers make a halt at Ladoga, where they prepare their ships, and then sail to Sigtuna. Sometimes even Ladoga is not mentioned. Here follows an example of the latter kind from Morkinskinna where the author describes how twelve best men of Þrœndalǫg in Norway travelled from Hólmgarðr in Garðaríki (Novgorod in Old Rus’)4 with young Magnús Óláfsson: Rǫgnvaldr Brúsason fór þá austan með þeim. Þeir fara nú austan umb vetrinn at frørum til hafsins, ok tóku þeir skip sín ok sigldu yfir hafit til Svíþjóðar ok fóru upp til Sigtúna, ok gengu þeir þar á land upp ok fóru landveg til Helsingjalands. (Msk 2011, 1:21)
(Rǫgnvaldr Brúsason went with them. They went from the east in the frost of winter to the open water, then manned their ships and crossed the sea to Sweden and sailed up the coast to Sigtúnir (Sigtuna), where they landed and took the land route to Helsingjaland (Hälsingland).) (Msk 2000, 99)5
At the same time, the number of saga stories about travel in the eastern direction, to Old Rus’, Constantinople, etc., not containing details of a sea voyage, exceeds the number of detailed descriptions by tens, or even hundreds, of times. The point, I think, is that this kind of route was completely natural and as a result did not represent any interest for the sagamen, which is a clear indication of the huge role that the Baltic Sea played in the lives of Scandinavians, the authors, listeners/readers, and heroes of the sagas. 4 These place-names will be discussed in ch. 6 and ch. 7, respectively. 5 With my emendation: westward substituted for from the east.
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We have seen how the Baltic Sea that united and at the same time separated the peoples living on its shores and served for the Scandinavians as a perfectly mastered road to the east, was a kind of mare nostrum (as ancient authors called the Mediterranean) for the Baltic peoples, the epicentre of life in the eastern quarter of the world. Naming it as “the Eastern Sea” (Austmarr, Eystrasalt) perfectly agreed with this mental map, while the traditional character of Icelandic culture has resulted in the fact that we still find “the more eastern sea,” Eystrasalt, on the modern Icelandic map.
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Chapter 4
TRAVERSING EASTERN EUROPE THIS CHAPTER’S FOCUS is on how, according to Old Norse sources, it was possible to cross Eastern Europe on the way to the East and Byzantium, and on what medieval Icelanders knew about the famous “route from the Varangians to the Greeks.” Ancient authors had noted the specific character of East European rivers: “Scythia has few really remarkable features, except its rivers, which are more numerous, and bigger, than anywhere else in the world” (Θωμάσια δὲ ἡ χώρη αὕτη οὐκ ἔχει, χωρὶς ἢ ὅτι ποταμούς τε πολλῶ μεγίστους καὶ ἀριθμὸν πλείστους) (Herodotus 2003, 298), wrote the “father of history,” Herodotus (IV.82). It was not by accident that, when the compilers of the Russian Primary Chronicle “tried to explain where in the world their land lay, they conceived of it largely in terms of rivers and river ways” (Franklin, Shepard 1996, 3). And this should not surprise us since this vast territory was heavily dependent on rivers: they were the attraction for settlers, they were used as both internal and international “roads.”1 The Valdai Hills stand at the junction of the main four river systems, those of the Volga, the Dnieper, the Western Dvina and the Volkhov–Il’men’–Lovat’. Here lie the sources of the rivers, from here the routes go to the Caspian, the Black, and the Baltic Seas. F. Donald Logan points out that “the significance of these hills for the Vikings was that it was possible, via portages in the Valdais, to link these rivers, and thus enable passage from the tributaries of one great river to the tributaries of another great river. The portages of the Valdais gave the Swedes access to the southern and eastern regions of this part of Europe” (Logan 1983, 182). In spite of the fact that “nature provided fairly convenient means of communications,” it still “threw up massive barriers” (Franklin, Shepard 1996, 5). Thomas Noonan draws an impressive picture of nature in the north of Rus’: “The first thing to note is that the environment was not very hospitable. Northern Russia at this time was covered by dense forests in which there were numerous bogs and marshes. These forests and swamps were home to a large assortment of insects, beasts, and reptiles. These regions could be traversed by rivers but even then there were a variety of obstacles. Rapids existed on the Volchov to threaten ships while portages required that boats be hauled through virgin forests full of predators” (Noonan 1986, 322). And yet, despite all the natural obstacles, a great system of roads connecting Scandinavia with Eastern Europe was gradually formed. Normally, the Normans directed their ships to the mouths of large navigable rivers, following the current of which (or, to be more precise, going against the current), they penetrated deep into the country. Two such roads opened for them out of the Baltic
1 On the decisive role of the river network in the process of Slavic settlement in Eastern Europe, in the formation of the main urban centres, and of the territories of separate princedoms within the Old Russian state, see Nosov 1999.
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Sea: one through the Gulf of Riga and the Western Dvina, the other through the Gulf of Finland and the Neva or Vuoksa. From the Western Dvina Scandinavians could go to any of the large river systems that served as transport arteries in Old Rus’ and that converged in this area: along the Lovat’ through Il’men’ and the Volkhov to Novgorod, along the Volga to the far east, and, finally, along the Dnieper to Kiev. Having reached Ladoga from the Gulf of Finland through the Vuoksa or Neva, they could go either to the east, to the Volga, or to the south, to Lake Il’men’, from where there were again two possible routes, one eastwards to the Volga, the other via the Volkhov and Lovat’ to the Western
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Dvina and the Dnieper, and along the Dnieper to the Black Sea. There is an assumption, based primarily on archaeological data, that the road along the Western Dvina was discovered earlier than the one along the Neva (see Brim 1931). Old Norse sources are aware of three “entrances” to the East European Plain: through the Western Dvina, the Gulf of Finland, and the Northern Dvina, but they record a better acquaintance with the Western Dvina–Dnieper road, which appears in a number of sagas as an arterial highway. Thus, Kristni saga tells of two Icelanders, Þorvaldr Koðránsson and Stefnir Þorgilsson, who in the year 1000 travelled as far as Jerusalem, and from there to Constantinople (Miklagarðr), and then to Kiev (Kœnugarðr) “et eystra eptir Nepr” (“more to the east along the Dnieper”). Þorvaldr died in Old Rus’, “skamt frá Pallteskju” (“not far from Polotsk”) (Kristni saga 1905, 43). This itinerary of a trip northwards from Jerusalem, via Constantinople, Kiev, and Polotsk, indicates that it was a waterway along the Dnieper and the Western Dvina. Movement in the opposite direction, from Scandinavia along the Western Dvina, is described in the only surviving Swedish saga, Guta saga, where we find a story of “the enforced emigration resulting from the overpopulation of Gotland” that “may have been a historical reality” (Peel 1999, xxv). It is told how Gotland was first discovered, how the population of Gotland increased and every third person was sent away, how they went to the island of Fårö and settled there, how they were forced to move “to an island off Estonia called Dagö,” how “they could not support themselves there either, but travelled up by the watercourse called the Dvina (Dyna), and forward through Russia (Ryzaland),” and how “they travelled for such a distance that they came to the Byzantine empire (til Griklanz)” (Guta saga 1999, 66). The places named on their long-established travel route in fact indicate stations on the way from Scandinavia along the Western Dvina, through Old Rus’ and as far as Greece. The Western Dvina route is most fully represented in Old Norse topo-, hydro-and ethnonymy (Jackson 2005), which is indisputable evidence of the Scandinavians’ early use of this route with further access to the Dnieper, Desna, Oka, and Don (cf. Bulkin, Dubov, Lebedev 1978, 51–54; Leont’yev 1986). The sources name: islands at the entrance to the Gulf of Riga, Hiiumaa (Dagö in Guta saga) and Saaremaa (Sýsla, Eysýsla in skaldic poetry and in sagas of different sub-genres); Ventspils, a locality by the estuary of the river Venta (Vindau in a runic inscription); Cape Kolkasrags in the west of the Gulf of Riga (Domesnes in a runic inscription);2 several Baltic peoples in the territory of Latvia (or the names of their lands): Curonians/kurši (Kúrir, Kúrland in the sagas and geographical treatises), the people of Zemgale (Sæmgallir in several runic inscriptions), the land of Livs/līvi (Lifland in runic inscriptions, a saga of ancient times and geographical treatises); the Western Dvina (Dýna in sagas and geographical treatises); Gersike (Gerseka-borg in one of the manuscripts of Þiðreks saga af Bern); Polotsk (Pallteskja in the late kings’ saga, geographical treatises and sagas of ancient times); Dröfn, a river near Polotsk (in a þula—a list of poetic synonyms—with river names, in Þorvalds þáttr viðförla, and in Kristni saga); the Dnieper (Nepr in geographical treatises and sagas of 2 It is worth noting that Domesnes was still in use in the nineteenth century (see Brockhaus, Efron 1907).
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ancient times); Smolensk (Smaleskia in a geographical treatise and in Þiðreks saga), and, very likely, Gnezdovo near Smolensk (Sýrnes Gaðar in a geographical treatise).3 As has been pointed out by V. A. Brim, the sagas are distinguished by extraordinary paucity and often inaccuracy in describing the whole “route from the Varangians to the Greeks” (see Brim 1931). Thus, a part of the road passing through the Gulf of Finland to the Neva and further along the Volkhov is not depicted in any of the Old Norse sources although it was of paramount importance in the Viking Age. There is an opinion that the Gulf of Finland in the form of Hólmshaf is mentioned on a rune stone from Valentuna church (U 214): han. troknaþi . a . holms . hafi (“he drowned in Hólmr’s Sea”) (see Melnikova 1977b, no. 95; Melnikova 2001, Б-III.9.3). This inscription, at least in the part that interests us, is often compared with the inscription on Högby stone (Ög 81) saying that uarþ. o hulmi. halftan . tribin (“Halfdan was killed at Hólmr”). Kristel Zilmer believes that the place-name “designates the island of Bornholm” (Zilmer 2005, 125). This particular shortened form of Borgundarhólmr of the sagas also occurs in skaldic poetry and was used by Adam of Bremen. So it is much more likely that in the runic inscription U 214 the term Hólmshaf was a designation not of the Gulf of Finland, but of the seawaters around Bornholm (Zilmer 2005, 127–29). Paradoxically, among the rivers mentioned in the Old Norse sources there is no Volkhov (known to the Old Russian chronicle writers), although Ladoga (Aldeigja), lying on the Volkhov, was familiar to Scandinavians already in the mid- eighth century, while on the rest of “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks” they are archaeologically traced only from the second half of the ninth century. Lake Ladoga is not mentioned in this literature at all; a difficult and probably unsafe part of the road from the Lovat’ to the Dvina and from the Dvina to the Dnieper is neither mentioned in these sources. Indeed, the route from Sweden to Novgorod via Ladoga (and back) is quite natural and, apparently because of this, it is rarely recorded in the sagas. In the previous chapter, we have given an example of a voyage of some noble Norwegians with young Magnús from Novgorod to Sigtuna as it was described by the author of Morkinskinna (see above, p. 40). Snorri Sturluson in Heimskringla adds Aldeigjuborg (Ladoga) as a stopping point: “Magnús Óláfsson byrjaði ferð sína eptir jólin austan af Hólmgarði ofan til Aldeigjuborgar. Taka þeir at búa skip sín, er ísa leysti um várit. […] Magnús konungr helt austan um várit til Svíþjóðar” (“After Yule Magnús Óláfsson got ready to set out from the east in Hólmgarðr down to Aldeigjuborg. They begin to prepare their ships when the ice broke up in the spring. […] King Magnús laid his course in the spring from the east to Svíþjóð”) (Hkr 1951, 3; Hkr 2015, 3). We are dealing here, as we also see in Orkneyinga saga 21, not with going down the river Volkhov, but using this (frozen) river route (from Novgorod to Ladoga) in winter time and awaiting the beginning of navigation on the Baltic Sea in the spring.4 In the rare stories of voyages in the opposite direction, from Scandinavia to Rus’, a halt in Ladoga is also mentioned, but for another reason: only one of those who arrived goes on to Novgorod, to obtain permission 3 For more details on the latter pair of toponyms see below, pp. 100–2. 4 On rivers as winter roads, see Miklyayev 1992.
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for further navigation, and then returns to fetch his fellow travellers.5 So, the first section of the road connecting Scandinavia with Novgorod is illuminated by at least some sources. But what do we know from the sagas about further routes? Two important trade routes of the Middle Ages through Eastern Europe crossed the Il’men’ basin—namely, the Baltic–Volga route and “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks” (see Nosov 1976). However, there is not a word in the Old Norse sources of people going along the former river road. The only thing that shows the acquaintance of Scandinavians with the region along the Volga and the Oka is a list of the “elder” towns of Rostov–Suzdal’ Land: Suzdal’ (Súrsdalr), Rostov (Rostofa), and Murom (Móramar) (see below, pp. 97–100). Data on the latter river road are in fact also missing. In Morkinskinna, Fagrskinna, and Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla, as well as in Hulda (dated to the third quarter of the fourteenth century), Haraldr Sigurðarson on his way from Byzantium is said to have got over the iron chains across the strait of Sæviðarsund (the Golden Horn), escaping thus from Miklagarðr (Constantinople), and to have sailed into the Svartahaf (Black Sea). According to Morkinskinna (the earliest of the three large compendia), Haraldr sailed “norðr yfir hafit, ok þaðan ferr hann um Austrríki til Hólmgarðs” (Msk 2011, 1:114) (“north across the sea, and thence through Austrríki (here: Old Rus’) to Hólmgarðr (Novgorod)”). However, in Fagrskinna instead of “norðr yfir hafit” there stands “norðr í Ellipalta” (“north into the Ellipaltar”) (Fask 1985, 237). To sum up Haraldr’s itinerary, he leaves Constantinople, sails into the Black Sea, then goes north into some mysterious Ellipaltar, and finally comes to Rus’. Ellipaltar is in fact another hapax legomenon among the East European place-names of the sagas. Scholars have offered several explanations for this hydronym, one of them describing it as a designation of the mouth of the Dnieper.6 Such an interpretation is probably based on the logical sequence of Haraldr’s itinerary: the famous “route from the Varangians to the Greeks” which he took from the Black Sea to Scandinavia led—theoretically—through Rus’, and first and foremost down the Dnieper. However, the reading of this name suggested by the compilers of the annotated index to twelve volumes of Fornmanna sögur—“Palus Mæotis (modern Sea of Azov)” (Fms 1837, 12:279; see also Prisak 1981, 507)—seems preferable, which we have tried to demonstrate in a recent paper (Jackson, Podossinov 2015). The way from the Sea of Azov along the Don and the Severskiy Donets to the Dnieper existed and was actively used already in the ninth century, and perhaps even earlier, as witness the finds in the Upper Don basin of Bosporan coins of the fourth century that are rare for Eastern Europe (Kazanski 1992, 96n114). As analysis of coin hoards demonstrates, the main routes for Kufic coins coming to Rus’ in the ninth century were the Don and the Donets that led to Slavic settlements in the basin of the Oka and the Dnieper. Silver came to the northern parts of Rus’ along the Dnieper (see Leont’yev 1986; cf. Franklin, Shepard 1996, 26; Grigor’yev 2011). Scandinavians advancing across the East European Plain in pursuit of Arab silver (see Noonan 1986) concluded their bargains somewhere to the 5 To be discussed in detail below, at pp. 90–91.
6 See the following editions and translations of Heimskringla: Hkr 1932, 514n3; Hkr 1951, 439; Hkr 1964, 589, ch. 15n2; Hkr 1980, 684.
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north of the steppe zone, while some of them could penetrate along the Donets and the Dnieper as far as the Sea of Azov (Franklin, Shepard 1996, 30). We believe that Ellipaltar should be understood only as a designation of the Sea of Azov. So, movement along the Dnieper is directly described explicitly in the aforementioned statement from Kristni saga that Þorvaldr Koðránsson with his fellow traveller got from Constantinople to Kiev “along the Dnieper.” The noted paucity and inaccuracy in the description of the whole “route from the Varangians to the Greeks” is most likely to have been a result of the fact that in the world picture of medieval Scandinavians familiar with the river system of Eastern Europe (see chapter 5) a notion prevailed that from the Baltic Sea one could sail as far as Old Rus’ and even Greece.7 This abstract hydrographic idea existed not only in the Old Norse consciousness. The oldest data on the possible connections between the Black and the Baltic Seas along the rivers of Eastern Europe are found in several Greek and Roman literary sources (see Podossinov 2009). The geographic imagination of Arab geographers was similar. Thus, Irina Konovalova has subjected to careful analysis the hydronym “Russian River” of the Arab mid-twelfth-century geographer al-Idrisi and has come to the conclusion that it is impossible to unequivocally identify this river with any geographical object on the territory of Eastern Europe. In her mind, the Arab hydronym served to express an idea—namely, the possibility to travel by water from the northern regions of Europe to the south. Not without reason, she points out, as parallels to the “Russian River,” two toponyms that had originated in the framework of other cultural traditions: the Old Russian “route from the Varangians to the Greeks” and the Old Norse Austrvegr (“Eastern way”) (Konovalova 2001). Still I think I can suggest a closer parallel to the “Russian River” of al-Idrisi in Old Norse tradition, and that is a nameless “large river” from Yngvars saga víðförla. This saga is traditionally classified among the fornaldarsögur. The text that has reached us is the Icelandic translation from before 1200 of a lost Latin original composed in the late twelfth century by Oddr Snorrason, a monk at the Þingeyrar monastery in Iceland (see Hofmann 1981; Wolf 1993; Glazyrina 2002). The saga survives in two vellum manuscripts of the mid-fifteenth century and a number of paper copies of the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries. The saga relates a famous expedition of the Swedish hǫfðingi Yngvarr Eymundarson in the middle of the eleventh century. Litlu síðar sigldi Yngvarr ór Svíþjóð með þrjá tigi skipa, ok lögðu eigi fyrr seglin en þeir kómu í Garðaríki, ok tók Jarizleifr konungr við honum með mikilli sæmd. Þar var Yngvarr þrjá vetr ok nam þar margar tungur at tala. Hann heyrði umræðu á því, at þrjár ár fellu austan um Garðaríki ok var sú mest, sem í miðit var. Þá fór Yngvarr víða um Austrríki ok frétti, ef nokkurr maðr vissi, hvaðan sú á felli, en engi kunni þat at segja. Þá bjó Yngvarr ferð sína ór Garðaríki ok ætlaði
7 This idea that had been formulated by Adam of Bremen (IV.10) was discussed in ch. 3. Cf. IV.1: “Ex eo portu naves emitti solent in Sclavaniam vel in Suediam vel ad Semland usque in Greciam” (“From this port [Schleswig] ships usually proceed to Slavia or to Sweden or to Samland, even to Greece”) (Adam 1917, 228; Adam 2002, 187).
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at reyna ok kanna lengd ár þessarar. […] Eptir þat heldu þeir í ána með þrjátigi skipa, ok snýr Yngvarr stöfnum í austr. (Yngvars saga 1954, 434–35)
(A little later, Yngvar put out to sea with his thirty ships and sailed from Sweden without lowering a sail till he came to Garðaríki. King Jarisleif gave him a great welcome and Yngvar stayed there for three years, learning to speak a number of languages. He heard talk that there were three rivers flowing through Garðaríki from the east, the one in between supposedly the largest, Yngvar travelled widely in the east, asking every one if they could tell him where that river came from, but nobody knew. From Garðaríki, Yngvar prepared for an expedition to find the length of this river […] They launched their thirty ships into the river and Yngvar set course towards the east.) (Yngvars saga 1989, 50–51)8
Going down the river, according to the saga, was not easy: here were snakes, flying dragons, terrible giants, dragons lying on gold, queens speaking many languages, pagan women infecting warriors with the deadly sickness, Cyclopes, and even the devil himself; on the way there were rocks, waterfalls, rapids, large villages, and even a city of white marble. Attempts to “find out” what particular river it was turned out to be quite helpless and rather contradictory. The first to put forward his suggestion was an unknown author who created in the early fourteenth-century Göngu-Hrólfs saga. Telling about a certain “Hreggviðr konungr” who, in his young days, “hafði undir sik lagt um ána Dýnu er fellr um Garðaríki” (“had conquered the region around the Dýna (Western Dvina) that flows through Garðaríki (Old Rus’)”) the saga author specifies: “Þessi á er in þriðja eða fjórða mest í heiminum. At uppsprettu ár þessarar leitaði Ingvarr inn víðförli, sem segir í sögu hans” (“This river is the third or the fourth largest in the world. Yngvar the Far-Traveller searched for the source of this river, as is told in his saga”) (Göngu-Hrólfs saga 1954, 165; Göngu-Hrólfs saga 2014, 171). Those modern scholars who proceed primarily from the fact that Yngvars saga narrated about the same expedition that had been reported in around twenty-five Swedish runic inscriptions commemorating people who “travelled to the east with Ingvarr,” their final destination being Serkland, and place Serkland in the Volga or the Caspian region, are convinced that the river in question is the Volga (see, for instance, Wessén 1937). The Volga is selected also by scholars who attach importance to the saga’s indication that this is “the largest” of the three rivers flowing through Garðaríki (Thulin 1975). Those who draw attention to the description of rapids on the river, and those who link Yngvarr’s expedition with the Russian campaign to Byzantium in 1043, naturally, determine the river described in the saga as the Dnieper (Melnikova 1976a). Mats G. Larsson, trying to “send” Yngvarr on his expedition to Transcaucasia, considers the river to be the Rioni (Larsson 1990, 44). Ben Waggoner, in the passage above from Göngu-Hrólfs saga, translates Dýna as the Don, giving the following explanation: “Norse 8 With my emendation in translation: Garðaríki instead of Russia.
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Dýna means the Danube (Simek, Altnordische Kosmographie, 203),9 but since the Danube does not flow close to Russia, the geography is a bit confused. Yngvars saga viðförla […] claims that this river that Yngvar explored was the largest of three rivers that flowed through Russia; the Don River might fit this description” (Göngu-Hrólfs saga 2014, 310). This is, however, a false deduction, since the Don occupied only the third position among the rivers of Old Rus’, after the Volga and the Dnieper. No more successful do I find another extreme position which amounts to a refusal to discern in this particular saga “genuine geographical facts” for the reason that the story of Yngvarr’s real travel is “converted into a symbolic display of a journey from the world of Christians into the world of people and beings who have not yet joined the right faith” (Glazyrina 2002, 314–15). I am not in favour of a literal (or, as it is also called, “linear”) reading of a saga text, especially when it comes to fornaldarsögur. At the same time, I am convinced that any saga text always contains some indirect information, which is, as a rule, an unintentional, unconscious reflection of some background knowledge. As for the “large river” of Yngvars saga víðförla, I consider as essential in its description not the information that “lies on the surface,” which might have been borrowed from the Etymologies of Isidore of Seville (as the name of cape Siggeum [Yngvars saga 1954, 439] and many others) or has parallels in other sagas (like overcoming obstacles by digging bypass channels) (Yngvars saga 1954, 440). In my opinion, it is worth paying attention to two less obvious, but still very important, moments: how the saga author defines the extreme points connected by the “large river,” and how he perceives the direction of movement along this river. To start with the latter, let us pay attention to the fact that, while at the court of “King Jarisleif,” Yngvarr learns that the river flows through Garðaríki from the east. As has been explained above (chapter 1), the world on the mental map of saga authors is divided into four quarters, all the lands along the Baltic Sea and beyond belonging to the eastern quarter, and movement within such quarters is described not in accordance with the compass readings, but in accordance with the quarters’ names: the further within a quarter the saga character advances, the further going in this direction his movement will be described. All this allows to conclude that what the author of Yngvars saga had in mind when he wrote that the “large river” was flowing “austan um Garðaríki,” was not merely a river running in the west–east direction, but a river whose source could be found further from Scandinavia than Hólmgarðr (Novgorod) or Kænugarðr (Kiev)—no matter where the saga author placed the courtyard of “King Jarisleif”—within the eastern quarter of the world. But, in no way does it follow from the saga that this “large river” flowing “from the east,” broke off (terminated) somewhere in Garðaríki. The only thing we learn from the saga text is a certainty that one can get to Garðaríki on board a ship (“Yngvar put out to sea with his thirty ships and sailed from Sweden without lowering a sail till he came to Garðaríki”) and that further movement could also be on board a ship, along the “large river,” where one can have thirty ships at a time (“They launched their thirty ships into the river and Yngvar 9 Rudolf Simek (1990, 203) explains the meaning of a hydronym Dynu, which “nur in der Stjórn” (only in the Bible translation) is said to mean “Donau”: “Danubium er ver kǫllum Dynu.” On Dýna as a designation of the Western Dvina see below, pp. 55–56.
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set course towards the east”; Yngvarr’s son Sveinn “fitted out thirty ships”), and even meet a fleet of ninety galeiðar (“galleys”) (Yngvars saga 1954, 449; Yngvars saga 1989, 60–61)—ships that circulated in the twelfth to fourteenth centuries in the Mediterranean and Black Sea basins (see Karpov 1994, 18–30). If we compare these disparate facts, we see an absolutely obvious description of a waterway from Scandinavia, across Old Rus’ and beyond, no doubt, in the southern (in modern understanding) direction. Indeed, the medieval world picture has reflected not the specific geographical knowledge, but some generalized representations, one of which, going back to antiquity, was the notion that from the northern regions of Europe it was possible to get to the south by water. So saw an Arab geographer the world, such was the mental map of a medieval Scandinavian. Next we turn to what the saga authors knew about the East European river system.
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Chapter 5
EAST EUROPEAN RIVERS THE EAST EUROPEAN river system was an ideal road for international long-distance trade and, beyond any doubt, it was well known to the Scandinavian Vikings not only as a concept, but in great detail. Scandinavian sources name eight East European rivers: the Northern Dvina (Vína), the Western Dvina (Dýna, Seimgol-Dýna), the Dnieper (Nepr, Danpr), the Neva (Nyia), the Don (Tanais, Dún), the Volga (Olkoga, Olga/Alkoga), the Kama (Kuma), and a river not far from Polotsk named Dröfn. These names occur from time to time in the sagas, but in aggregate they are known to us from two lists: from the anonymous þula known under the title Á heiti (“River names”) and the geographical treatise enumerating great rivers (in AM 544 4o and AM 194 8o). Only the Northern Dvina obviously belongs to the early layer of the ethno-geographical nomenclature (see above, p. 25), as it is mentioned already in skaldic poetry.
The Northern Dvina
The river Vína is known from a large number of sources: skaldic verses, sagas of various sub-genres, geographical treatises. The majority of scholars are prone to think that Vína was nothing but a designation of the Northern Dvina, the most serious argument in support of this view still being the existence of consonant names of this river in the Old Icelandic (Vína), Finnish (Viena), and Russian (Двина) languages. Out of the numerous interpretations of the hydronym (Northern) Dvina the most acceptable seems to be the one—not taken into account by Max Vasmer in his Russisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, but added to the dictionary entry in the Russian translation by O. N. Trubachev—that explains this name as related to the Russian word два “two” (Vasmer 1986, 1:488). Likewise, in Sigismund von Herberstein’s Rerum Moscoviticarum Commentarii (“Notes on Muscovite Affairs,” 1549): “The province and the river Dvina took their name from the confluence of the rivers Yug and Sukhona, for Dvina signifies two or double in Russian” (Herberstein 1988, 155). However, in skaldic poetry the hydronym Vína often serves as a metaphoric description of a river (e. g., it functions as a part of the compound kenning of poetry in a strophe of the tenth-century skald Einarr skállaglam Helgason in Vellekla 11) (Marold 2012a, 297), or provides general reference to a river, as in Egill Skallagrímsson’s Lausavísa 51, dedicated to the fall of his brother Þórólfr in England:
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54 Eastern Europe in the Old Norse Weltbild Gekk, sás óðisk ekki, jarlmanns bani snarla (þreklundaðr fell) Þundar (Þórólfr) í gný stórum; jǫrð grœr, en vér verðum, Vínu nærr of mínum, (helnauð es þat) hylja harm, ágætum barma. (Skj 1967, 51; Skj 1973, 44)
(The earl’s killer, Who cringed to no man, Fell, the fierce Thorolf Fighting like a warrior. Beneath Vina’s green bank Lie my brother’s bones, Sore is my sorrow Though I show no grief.) (Egils saga 1976, 127–28)
Egils saga Skalla-Grímssonar relates how the English king Athelstan (924–939) engages a battle with Óláfr the Red from Scotland who had invaded England and suggests as a battlefield the Vína moor near the Vína forest (“orrostustað á Vínheiði við Vínuskóga”) (Egils saga 1933, 130–48, ch. 52). In this battle one of the leaders of his army, Þórólfr, Egill’s brother, falls; the strophe above commemorates him. According to Roberta Frank, the saga author has placed the stanza in an incorrect prose context. She thinks “there is some reason to believe that the stanza actually commemorates Þórólfr’s death in Russia on the Bjarmaland expedition mentioned earlier in the saga” (Frank 1978, 79). This implies that the skaldic expression Vínu nærr (“near Vína”) should be understood as “near the Northern Dvina.” Matthew Townend’s disagreement is supported by Haukr Valdisarson’s Íslendingadrápa 9–10 (twelfth century) where the poet claims that “Egill and Þórólfr fought side-by-side in Athelstan’s army,” which might mean that “the belief in Þórólfr’s death in battle in England […] dates from before Egils saga,” and Vína (OE *We(o)n) is likely to stand for an English river (Townend 1998, 90–93). Still another supposition was made by Omeljan Pritsak, who claimed that the Icelandic skald Egill Skallagrímsson in his strophe “metaphorically uses the designation of the famous northeastern European river, Vína (Northern Dvina), for the British Bruna” (Pritsak 1981, 262). Having no evidence for tenth-century acquaintance with the Northern Dvina being so intimate that Scandinavians would give its name to other rivers, it is difficult to accept this point of view. My sympathy is with the position of Kristel Zilmer, who observes that “there also remains the theoretical possibility that Vína simply provides a general reference to a river, without necessarily mentioning its name” (Zilmer 2005, 261–62). In contrast to the above skalds, Glúmr Geirason in Gráfeldardrápa 6—discussed above (pp. 25–26) in connection with the use of austr in this stanza—does in fact relate Vína to the eastern part of the world and correlates it with Bjarmar (“bjarmskar kindir”), thus describing the victory of King Haraldr gráfeldr over them by the river Vína (“á Vínu borði”) (Finlay 2012a, 255). Snorri Sturluson in ca. 1230 based his story of this victory on the skaldic stanza from 975—“Haraldr gráfeldr fór á einu sumri með her sinn norðr til Bjarmalands ok herjaði þar ok átti orrostu mikla við Bjarma á Vínubakka. Þar hafði Haraldr konungr sigr ok drap mart fólk, herjaði þá víða um landit ok fekk ófa mikit fé. Þess getr Glúmr Geirason” (“Haraldr gráfeldr went one summer with his army north to Bjarmaland and raided there and had great battles with Bjarmar on Vínubakki. There King Haraldr gained victory and slew many people, raiding many places all over the
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country and getting a huge amount of plunder. Glúmr Geirason speaks of this”) (Hkr 1941, 217; Hkr 2011, 133)—thinking this campaign had been in Bjarmaland, and Bjarmaland could have meant for him the Low Dvina region, as by his time the route along the Northern Dvina had become familiar to Scandinavian travellers.1 Vína occurs in one of the þulur, versified lists of heiti (skaldic synonyms), composed in the late twelfth or early thirteenth century and preserved in different versions in several manuscripts of Snorra Edda (see Gurevich 1992). This þula is called Á heiti (“River names”) and includes among 112 heiti for “river” six names of East European rivers, only one of which is mentioned in skaldic poetry, and that is Vína (Skj 1967, 669–70; Skj 1973, 666–67). The other five names—Dýna, Nepr, Dröfn, Olga, Dún—will be discussed later in this chapter. The list of rivers in a geographical treatise, dated according to the oldest manuscript no later than to the early fourteenth century, names, along with the Danube, Elbe, Po, Tiber, Rhone, and Guadalquivir, seven East European rivers, and Vína (the Northern Dvina) is one of them: Tanais heitír a. er skilr Europa fra Asia. Dun heitir a. er mest [va]tn er a Europa. þar falla i.lx. stor a. oc kemr i.vij. stoðum [i sę.] mikil i ollum st[oðum.] I þeím lut heimsíns ero þessar aðr[ar storaer]. Nepr [oc] Nyia[.] Seimgol. Duna. Olkoga. Vina. Kuma. Saxelfr. Padus. Tifr. Rodon. Betus. (Hb 1892–96, 150)
(Tanais is the name of a river which separates Europe from Asia. Dun is the most full-flowing river in Europe; there fall into it sixty great rivers; it empties in seven arms, each of which is great, into the sea. In those parts of the world there are still other great rivers: Nepr and Nyia, Seimgol, Duna, Olkoga, Vina, Kuma, Saxelfr, Padus, Tifr, Rodon, Betus.)2
Unlike the West European hydronyms mentioned in Latin geographical literature, the East European hydronyms are known only to Scandinavian writings and do not occur in the West European chorography of the corresponding time.
The Western Dvina
Dýna (Dína, Duna) is generally thought to be a designation of the Western Dvina (AR 1852, 431; Pritsak 1981, 297, 300, 364, 549; Melnikova 1986, 151–57; Zilmer 2005, 178), the road along which, according to archaeological evidence, had been discovered earlier than other “entrances” to the East European Plain (see chapter 4). The question whether this name belongs to the early ethno-geographical tradition is not simple. A lost rune stone of the eleventh century from Bönestad (Sö 121) must have had at the end of the memorial formula the expression austR. i . tuna . asu. The initial suggestion was 1 On Bjarmaland, the White Sea and the Northern Dvina, see ch. 10.
2 See Pritsak 1981, 548–49: Dun is the Danube, Saxelfr is the Elbe, Padus is the Po in Lombardy, Tifr is the Tiber in Italy, Rodon is the Rhone in France, Betus is the Guadalquivir in Spain.
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that the words tuna and asu had been written with mistakes, but some conjectures permitted, instead of a senseless word combination, the following reading: austr í Duna ósa “in the east by the mouth of the Western Dvina” (ósa being the dative case of óss “mouth, outlet of a river”) (Brate 1887–91, 184). Later Erik Brate interpreted the first word as the genitive of a personal name Tun(n)e, and the second one (by analogy with i . ikuars . liþi “in Ingvar’s troops”) as the dative of some special military term. However, he himself stressed that such a word is not known in Scandinavian languages (Brate, Wessén 1924–36, 91). Elena Melnikova calls the first interpretation the most solid and accepted by the majority of scholars (Melnikova 2001, 70). Still, Kristel Zilmer does not consider it possible to accept either of the interpretations of the phrase i . tuna . asu (Zilmer 2005, 178), so, in the light of her research, the Western Dvina’s membership of the early ethno- geographical tradition is questionable. Dýna is also mentioned in Krákumál 3, a skaldic poem composed in the twelfth century, in which a semi-legendary Danish king Ragnarr Loðbrók remembers his heroic deeds before his death (in 865) in a snake pit where he was put by Ælla, the king of Northumbria. Among other things he asserts: “unnum átta jarla austr fyr Dínu mynni” (“we defeated eight jarls east by the mouth of the Dína”) (Skj 1967, 642; Skj 1973, 649). Regarding these words, V. A. Brim notes that the historical Ragnarr himself was probably not a participant in the events described, but what is important for us here is the indication of some Scandinavian expeditions along the Western Dvina (Brim 1931, 217–18). The þula of the late twelfth or early thirteenth century also mentions Dýna among other river names (see above, p. 55). Göngu-Hrólfs saga of the early fourteenth century states that the river Dýna flows through Old Rus’ (“fellr um Garðaríki”) and that it is the third or fourth largest river in the world (Göngu-Hrólfs saga 1954, 165). As far as the reference to this river in the aforementioned list of rivers in a geographical treatise is concerned (see above, p. 55), Elena Melnikova puts forward the opinion that out of the two successive names—Seimgol and Duna—the former is also a designation of a river, the Seim, which she claims to be the left tributary of the Dnieper, while it is in fact the left tributary of the Desna flowing into the Dnieper (Melnikova 1986, 157). The prevailing opinion, however, treats Seimgol as a definition to the latter name, thus forming a compound Seimgol-Dýna with the meaning “the Dvina of Sæmgallir, the people of Zemgale” (Sapunov 1893, 26; Rozhnetskiy 1911, 68; Brim 1931, 217; Metzenthin 1941, 90; Sverdlov 1973, 53; Pritsak 1981, 548–49; Gunnar Jacobsson 1983, 124), that is, the Western Dvina. Interestingly, in the early fifteenth century Gilbert de Lannoy, a Flemish traveller and diplomat, noted that around 1412 the Western Dvina was called Tzamegaelzara (i.e., Semigals-Ara “Zemgalian water”) (Guillebert 1840, 17).
The Dnieper
The Dnieper—in the form Nepr—is mentioned in the aforementioned þula with the river names and the list of rivers in the geographical treatise, as well as in Kristni saga written down at the earliest ca. 1200 and preserved in a number of manuscripts dating to the fourteenth century. The comparison of the Old Norse Nepr with the Old Russian epic Нѣпръ has resulted in two opposing points of view. S. Rozhnetskiy finds it natural to
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explain the epic form as derived from the Old Norse, and Old Swedish as well, Nepr. He suggests that Russian epic poems were composed on the model of the Varangian songs that mention Nepr (Rozhnetskiy 1911, 68–69). On the contrary, Elena Melnikova argues that the Old Norse form can be traced back to the Russian epic (Melnikova 1976b, 150), and this seems more likely, as formation of the toponymy and hydronymy of both eastern and western routes by Scandinavian travellers fairly regularly followed the principle of phonetic assimilation (see Jackson, Molchanov 1990). The Dnieper might have also been called Danpr, which name can be traced in the oikonym Danparstaðir (see below, p. 104).
The River Dröfn
Dröfn occurs in a story narrated in the episcopal saga of the second half of the thirteenth century that goes back to the lost saga of the Norwegian king Óláfr Tryggvason by monk Gunnlaugr (d. ca. 1218), Kristni saga (“The Story of the Conversion”), preserved in a manuscript, Hauksbók, dated to ca. 1306–1310 (see Grønlie 2006, xxxii). The saga tells how in the year 1000, after Christianity had been made law in Iceland, two Christian missionaries, Þorvaldr Koðránsson and Stefnir Þorgilsson “fóru báðir saman víða um heiminn ok allt út í Jórsalaheim ok þaðan til Miklagarðs ok svá til Kœnugarðs et eystra eptir Nepr. Þorvaldr andaðiz í Rúzia skamt frá Pallteskju, þar er hann grafinn í fjalli einu at kirkju Johannis baptistæ ok kalla þeir hann helgan” (“travelled all over the world and all the way to Jerusalem, and from there to Constantinople, and then to Kiev more to the east along the Dnieper. Þorvaldr died in Rus’, not far from Polotsk, there he is buried on a mountain at the church of John the Baptist, and they call him a saint”) (Kristni saga 1905, 43). This saga episode is presented as if based on an authentic skaldic stanza, since it continues in the following way: “Svá segir Brandr enn víðfǫrli” (“Brandr the Far-Traveller says this”): Hefk þar komet, es Þorvalde Koþráns syne Kristr hvílþar lér; þar’s heilagr grafenn í háfjalle upp í Drafne at Joanskirkjo. (Kristni saga 1905, 44)
(I have come where Christ grants rest to Þorvaldr Koðran’s son. He is buried there on a high mountain up in Drafn at John’s Church.) (Kristni saga 2006, 51)
Siân Grønlie observes that “neither Brandr nor his verse is known from elsewhere” (Kristni saga 2006, 70n93). Still, to my mind, the words used in the stanza “í háfjalle upp í Drafne” deserve more careful consideration than when scholars merely claimed that a mountain with the name Dröfn had not been found (Brim 1931, 218). A combination of an adverb upp “up” with a preposition í “in” is regularly used to describe movement along rivers and sea coasts in a sense of “upstream” and “deep into the country, the
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mainland.” Thus, Dröfn might be understood as the name of a river, not a mountain. This conclusion is supported by the connected-with-water meaning of the word dröfn, f., which is defined in dictionaries as “spots, spray-like spots,” “bylgja, sjór” (“wave, sea”), “die Welle” (“wave”), and in poetry as “the floaming sea.” These also mention that Dröfn is a name of the sea god Ægir’s daughter, as well as the Old Norse name for the Drammen river (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 108; Vries 1977, 86; Íslensk orðsifjabók 1989, 132). Elena Rydzevskaya noted that this was mainly found in names of fjords: modern Drammensfjorden in Vestfold (in Norway); likewise the river Dramselv occurs in the sagas under the name of Dröfn (see Fms 1837, 12:276, and examples in 5:8; 9:117, 9:313, 9:320–21, 9:376) which, indeed, does not suit a mountain (Rydzevskaya 1935, 16–17n4). An additional argument for the assertion that the name Dröfn in our case designates a river is found in the twelfth-century þula with river names where Dröfn is named along with the Don (Dún), the Dnieper (Nepr), and so on (see above, p. 55). In Þorvalds þáttr viðfǫrla, also going back to monk Gunnlaugr’s saga, but preserved in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta (manuscripts not earlier than the fourteenth century), it is said that Þorvaldr founded a noble monastery by the cathedral hallowed to John the Baptist, in which minster he ended his life, and where he is buried. “Þat klaustr stendr undir hábjargi, er heitir Drǫfn” (“This closter stands under a high mountain that is called Dröfn”) (Kristni saga 1905, 78–79). However, in the light of what has been said above, it is safe to say that the mountain with the river name Dröfn owes its origin to the incorrect reading by the author of Þorvalds þáttr (or rather a copyist) of the stanza by Brandr the Far-Traveller. By the way, in the other redaction of Þorvalds þáttr—in Flateyjarbók and AM 62 fol—the foundation of a monastery by Þorvaldr is not connected with Dröfn and Polotsk, or with Rus’ as such (Flat 1868, 301–2; Kristni saga 1905, 79–81). But where is the river Dröfn? Guðbrandr Vigfússon and F. York Powell suggested the following reading of this name in Þorvalds þáttr: “a river called Dropn (= metathesis for Dnopr, i.e., Dnieper)” (Origines Islandicae 1905, 412n1). It is worth, however, taking into account both texts and concentrating on the statement of Kristni saga that Þorvaldr died “skamt frá Pallteskju,” and then the hydronym can scarcely refer to the Dnieper. Still, this indication should not be taken literally, since the number of reference points (ethno-, topo-, and hydronyms) in the Old Russian state is limited in the sagas, and any geographical object within the Polotsk Land might be labelled as “not far from Polotsk.” I have elsewhere (Jackson 1991b) suggested as a possible area of a “search” the region of Braslaw Zawelski, located on the northwestern outskirts of Polotchyna, near the Lithuanian borders, in an inaccessible high place, on the isthmus between lakes Drivyaty and Navyaty. Along with the Lake Drivyaty, there lies nearby the Drisvyaty Lake, and in the vicinity there are a number of hydronyms with similar names, any of which, due to phonetic similarity, could be rendered with the help of the Scandinavian hydronym Dröfn. Six kilometres to the north of Braslaw is the Maskovichi site, the old fortified settlement that developed on the eastern shore of the Der’by Lake (the Braslaw lake system), connected by the river Druyka with the Western Dvina. In archaelogical excavations of 1977–1978 more than one hundred fragments of bones of birds and animals were found in Maskovichi with runic inscriptions mostly dating to
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the late eleventh to thirteenth centuries scratched on them. One of the probable groups of people familiar with runic script could be Scandinavian mercenaries, i.e., soldiers who served in the squads of the Russian princes and stopped here on the way between the mouth of the Western Dvina and Polotsk, or those who were here for some time as a garrison of the Polotsk prince (see Duchits, Melnikova 1981). The Icelandic missionary returning in the early eleventh century along the Austrvegr to Scandinavia is likely to have been buried in such a place. This proposed interpretation still leaves open the question of the church and monastery of John the Baptist. However, in one of the Braslaw lakes lies an island with the name Monastery. Also on an island in the river Dvina, opposite Polotsk, there used to be a monastery of St. John the Baptist (Semenov 1873, 165–66) mentioned in the sources of the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries (i.e., in a record of the donation to this monastery made by the prince of Polotsk Anofriy before 1350 or in 1377–1381) (PG 1977, 42), but which could have appeared at the turn of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (Shtykhov 1975, 31; Tarasov 1987, 35).
The Volga and the Kama
Two Old Norse hydronyms are characterized by some scholars as a designation of the Volga. These are the Olga of the anonymous þula with river names (see above, p. 55) and the Olkoga of the list of rivers in the geographical treatise (see above, p. 55). Both these names are hapax legomena, and so there is no certainty in their treatment. Thus, Omeljan Pritsak has no doubt that the first name—Olga—stands for the Volga (Pritsak 1981, 549), while Elena Gurevich understands the word as a heiti with the meaning “noise-maker” (see Gurevich 1992) and believes that it is not a hydronym and cannot be a distorted name of the Volga. However, as she emphasizes, in a number of manuscripts instead of olga there stands Alkoga, most likely identical with the Olkoga from the geographical list of great rivers. It seems logical that the compiler of the þula—an Icelander of the early thirteenth century—was not familiar with the localization of a river with the name Olkoga, and therefore he preferred to replace the obscure hydronym with the epithet olga “noise-maker” (Melnikova 1986, 155). It follows from this argumentation that the Old Norse designation of the Volga did not have a variant Olga, but nevertheless it is obvious that the name of the Volga had reached the compiler of the þula in one form or another. The oddity noted above (chapter 4) of the absence of the Volkhov among the East European rivers mentioned in Old Norse sources makes some scholars believe that the Olkoga of the geographical treatise is a designation of the Volkhov (AR 1852, 2:431; Brim 1931, 223: “cf. the Finnish Olhava”; Pritsak 1981, 549; Lebedev 1985, 186, pict. 42). To my mind, this is an erroneous interpretation: be Olkoga the Volkhov, this name would occur in the early toponymic layer, i.e., in skaldic poetry or in runic inscriptions, since Ladoga (Aldeigja), lying on the Volkhov, was opened up by Scandinavians (according to available archaeological data) as early as the mid-eighth century, almost a century earlier than the rest of “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks.” But it is not there. Olkoga belongs to the second ethno-geographical layer, as is Nepr (the Dnieper), because
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in the Dnieper–Western Dvina and the Volga–Oka regions the Scandinavians, naturally, penetrated somewhat later than they appeared at the “initial” points of this route. Choosing between the two readings of this hydronym, Elena Melnikova finds it difficult to give preference to any one of them and believes that the only thing that probably speaks in favour of identifying the hydronyms Olkoga and Volga is the preservation in the Scandinavian form of the ending -ga typical of the Finnish substratum hydronyms of the European north, whereas it would be impossible to explain the transition of the -ov ending in Volkhov into this -ga (Melnikova 1986, 156). Despite the fact that the hydronym Kuma occurs only in one text—the list of rivers in the geographical treatise (see above, p. 55)—scholars agree that this is a designation of the Kama, the tributary of the Volga (Pritsak 1981, 548–49; Melnikova 1986, 209).
The Neva
In connection with the arguments above concerning Olkoga, “the Volga,” the question arises as to why the name of the river Neva, which is present only in the list of rivers in the geographical treatise in the form of Nyia (see above, p. 55), belongs to the later ethno-geographical tradition? The fact is that the Neva was at one time much wider than now and even had the appearance of a strait into the Gulf of Finland, a strait that may have not disappeared even by the time of Nestor, who says bluntly that “the mouth of this lake opens into the Varangian Sea” (RPC 1930, 53); in other words, he does not mention the Neva, although the Lovat’ and the Volkhov are familiar to him (see Brandenburg 1896, 10–11). Correspondingly, the Scandinavians did not know this hydronym either. According to V. A. Brim, the way from the Gulf of Finland to Lake Ladoga looked more like a strait than a river (Brim 1931, 221). It is possible that the Neva and Lake Ladoga were originally perceived by Scandinavian seafarers as a direct continuation of the Gulf of Finland that did not require a separate name. A striking parallel might be found in southern Europe: medieval Venetian and Genoese seafarers believed that the Don flew into the Black Sea and that its mouth was the present Kerch Strait; the Sea of Azov was considered only an extension of the lower reaches of the Don before its inflow into the Black Sea (see Skrzhinskaya 1949, 247). The Baltic Finnic neva means a “swampy area.” It served initially as a designation of the southern part of Lake Ladoga surrounded by swamps (“the great lake Nevo,” according to the Primary Chronicle), Nevajärvi (Mikkola 1906, 9). It is traditionally believed that the Old Norse Nyia, like other Germanic forms—the Middle Low German Nü, Nyu, the Swedish Ny, all with the literal meaning “new,”—appeared as a result of folk-etymological perception of the Baltic Finnic Neva as the “new river” (Mikkola 1906, 10; Brim 1931, 221). However, more convincing is the view that the Germanic names are initial. After all, the Neva was formed, within the second half of the second millennium bc, as a result of the breakthrough of waters of Lake Ladoga through the isthmus that separated it from the Baltic Sea. And the witnesses, the ancient Indo-European dwellers of the Eastern Baltic, reflected in the hydronym “the birth of the new river” (Kuleshov 2003, Helimski 2008, 75–76).
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Old Norse sources neither mention the river that led, in addition to the Neva, from the Gulf of Finland into Lake Ladoga and then to Ladoga—namely the Vuoksa, a water artery going through an ancient Karelian tribal territory, from modern Vyborg to Priozersk. Mapping of archaeological sites and hoards demonstrates active use of the Vuoksa route to Ladoga in the second half of the eighth and in the ninth century (see Spiridonov 1988, 132–34). Still, the marking toponym along this road occurs in the sources: it is the Véborg mentioned on a rune stone from Össeby Garn church (U 180) in the 1050s–1060s (Zilmer 2005, 142–44).
The Don
In the twelfth-century þula with river heiti the Don is designated with a name Dún that looks like a phonetic reproduction of the authentic pronunciation (see above, p. 55). As analysis of coin hoards demonstrates, the main routes for Kufic coins coming to Rus’ in the ninth century were the Don and the Donets3 that led to Slavic settlements in the basin of the Oka and the Dnieper (see Leont’yev 1986; cf. Franklin, Shepard 1996, 26; Grigor’yev 2011). Scandinavians advancing across the East European Plain in pursuit of Arab silver (see Noonan 1986) concluded their bargains somewhere to the north of the steppe zone, though some of them could penetrate along the Donets and the Don as far as the Sea of Azov (Franklin, Shepard 1996, 30). In other sources, the Don bears the name of Tanais and is represented as a border between Europe and Asia. These sources are the translation of the Bible into Old Norse called Stjórn (“Guidance,” or “God’s governance of the world”), Snorri Sturluson’s Ynglinga saga, the first saga of his Heimskringla, and the geographical treatise that laconically states the following: “Tanais heitír a. er skilr Europa fra Asia” (“Tanais is the name of a river which separates Europe from Asia”) (see above, p. 55). It is in this capacity and under this name that the river is known in ancient and medieval geography (see Podossinov 2002) and cartography (being depicted even on the most schematic maps) (see Chekin 2006). The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville (14.4.2) were without doubt used by the compiler of Stjórn as a source for his description of Europe with the Tanais as its borderline: Etymologies
Stjórn
Europa autem in tertiam partem orbis divisa incipit a flumine Tanai, descendens ad occasum per septentrionalem Oceanum usque in fines Hispaniae; cuius pars orientalis et meridiana a Ponto consurgens, tota mari Magno coniungitur, et in insulas Gades finitur. (Isidore 1911, 555)
Europa hefz upp ok tekr til af einni mikils hattar ok frægri aa Tanays, ok gengr sua medr norđanuerdu uthafinu uestr allt til endimarka Hyspanie, enn hennar austr- haalfa ok hinn synnri partr byriaz af Ponto, ok gengr allt medr hinu mikla hafi ok lyktaz uidr þær eyiar sem Gades heita. (Stjórn 1862, 143)
3 Incidentally, Omeljan Pritsak reads the name Dún: “Don(ec’)” (Pritsak, 1981, 297).
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Stjórn
(The third of the globe that is called Europe (Europa) begins with the river Tanais (i.e. the Don), passing to the west along the northern Ocean as far as the border of Spain, and its eastern and southern parts rise from the Pontus (i.e. the Black Sea) and are bordered the whole way by the Mediterranean and end in the islands of Gades (i.e. Cadiz).) (Isidore 2006, 289)
(Europe begins at the big and famous river Tanais and goes to the northern outer sea, and westwards to the limits of Spain, and its eastern half and the southern part begin at Pontus and reach the Great Sea and end in those islands that are called Gades.)
The first chapter of Ynglinga saga opens with a “descriptive world ‘map’ ” (Klingenberg 1994, 41): Kringla heimsins, sú er mannfólkit byggvir, er mjǫk vágskorin. Ganga hǫf stór ór útsjánum inn í jǫrðina. Er þat kunnigt, at haf gengr frá Nǫrvasundum ok allt út til Jórsalalands. Af hafinu gengr langr hafsbotn til landnorðrs, er heitir Svartahaf. Sá skilr heimsþriðjungana. Heitir fyrir austan Ásíá, en fyrir vestan kalla sumir Európá, en sumir Eneá. En norðan at Svartahafi gengr Svíþjóð in mikla eða in kalda. […] Ór norðri frá fjǫllum þeim, er fyrir útan eru byggð alla, fellr á um Svíþjóð, sú er at réttu heitir Tanais. Hon var forðum kǫlluð Tanakvísl eða Vanakvísl. Hon kømr til sjávar inn í Svartahaf. Í Vanakvíslum var þá kallat Vanaland eða Vanaheimr. Sú á skilr heimsþriðjungana. Heitir fyrir austan Ásíá, en fyrir vestan Európá. (Hkr 1941, 9–11)
(The disc of the world that mankind inhabits is very indented with bays. Large bodies of water run from the ocean into the land. It is known that a sea extends from Nǫrvasund (the Straits of Gibraltar) all the way to Jórsalaland (Palestine). From the sea a long gulf called Svartahaf (the Black Sea) extends to the north- east. It divides the world into thirds. To the east is the region called Asia, and the region to the west some call Europe, and some Enea. And from the north to Svartahaf extends Svíþjóð in mikla (Sweden the Great) or in kalda (the Cold). […] From the north, from the mountains that are beyond all habitations, flows a river through Svíþjóð that is properly called Tanais (Don). It was formerly called Tanakvísl (fork of the Don) or Vanakvísl (fork of the Vanir). It reaches the sea in Svartahaf. The land within Vanakvíslir (delta of the Don) was then called Vanaland (Land of Vanir) or Vanaheimr (World of Vanir). This river separates the thirds of the world. The region to the east is called Asia, that to the west, Europe.) (Hkr 2011, 6)
While in Stjórn both the Don and the Black Sea are given traditional names that go back to antiquity (Tanais and Pontus), in Ynglinga saga, along with Tanais, the synonyms invented by Snorri, Tanakvísl and Vanakvísl, appear, and the Black Sea bears a traditional name for Old Norse literature Svartahaf (from svartr “black” and haf “sea”). In no other Old Norse text is the Black Sea attested as the border between Europe and Asia. In Snorri’s
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text the Tanais flows down from the mountains lying in the north beyond all populated areas, that is, one can think, from the Riphean Mountains, flows through Svíþjóð in mikla (= Scythia), and into the Black Sea, which does not contradict the ancient lore inherited by medieval geography. Gustav Storm rightly noted that in saying “at réttu heitir Tanais” Snorri, most likely, had in mind the Latin name of this river (Storm 1873, 105). As for the supposed synonyms of Tanais (Tanakvísl and Vanakvísl), the second one means “The Estuary of the Vanir.” Snorri makes us think that, as a result of a (impossible in principle) phonetic transition, the Latin name of the Don Tanais goes back, via Tanakvísl (“The Tanais Estuary”), to Vanakvísl, and hence the mouth of the Don since ancient times had been a habitat of the Vanir. Snorri needed to determine the place where they had lived because in Ynglinga saga he expounds the myth of the war between two groups of Norse deities, the Æsir and the Vanir (the war leading to consolidation of the community of gods), but the Æsir, according to the Scandinavian settlement legend, had a place of their earthly dwelling in Asia. Snorri’s artificial constructions could be left with no further attention if they had no further history. However, on the Icelandic map (MS GKS 1812 III, ff. 5v–6r), ca. 1225–1250, the Tanais is designated as Tanakvisl fluvius maximus (“The Tanais Estuary, a great river”) (Chekin 2006, 69–71, 369). We have seen that Old Norse sources give no idea of the time when the waterways of Eastern Europe were in use, because in skaldic poetry, runic inscriptions, and early kings’ sagas those hydronyms were fixed that had been known to Scandinavians at the initial period of their presence in Eastern Europe, when Ladoga was the final point of the trade route from the Scandinavian north, while all the other hydronyms occur in all the other sources, and there is no hope of achieving a more detailed picture. Still, it is obvious that in the Scandinavian Weltbild all the main East European river routes, those along the Western Dvina, Northern Dvina, Dnieper, and Volga–Kama were present. Now I intend to demonstrate the Scandinavian idea of the state that they had to pass through when moving along “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks,” and why Old Rus’ had received in Old Norse sources the name of Garðar/Garðaríki.
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Chapter 6
GARÐAR/GARÐARÍKI AS A DESIGNATION OF OLD RUS’ IN THE STUDY of Old Norse names for Old Rus’ two toponyms, Garðar and Garðaríki— that were considered to have been interchangeable variants of one sole name—have rarely been distinguished. The majority of scholars, however, studied only the place-name Garðaríki, which is younger than Garðar and is more widespread in the Old Norse texts. The interpretations of Garðaríki vary.1 Thus, the compilers of the Icelandic–English dictionary (first published in 1874), Richard Cleasby and Guðbrandur Vigfússon, believed that the name had been “derived from the castles or strongholds (gardar) which the Scandinavians erected among the Slavonic people” and that the word told “the same tale as the Roman ‘castle’ in England” (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 192). Vasiliy Tatishchev, the author of the first major work on Russian history (eighteenth century), understood Garðaríki as “the Great Town” (Tatishchev 1962, 283); however, in Russian historiography the translation “the Country of Towns” became traditional (Pogodin 1914, 31; Klyuchevskiy 1923, 157; Tikhomirov 1956, 9; Grekov 1959, 305). The position of Russian historians was formed, probably, not without some influence from Vilhelm Thomsen, who supposed that in those cases when the place-names were connected with Eastern Europe the Old Icelandic garðr came to mean exactly what the Old Russian городъ “town” meant (Thomsen 1879, 83). Elena Rydzevskaya, in a special paper dedicated to the analysis of this toponym, arrived at a conclusion that “Garðaríki was in fact ‘the Country of towns,’ as the Russian historians translated the term, but the word garðr in its structure did not have its usual Old Norse meaning, but was a kind of popular etymology, an attempt to adjust a foreign word to a similar word of one’s own language” (Rydzevskaya 1978, 151). Undertaking the analysis of all East European place-names with the root garð-, Elena Melnikova concluded that “in the eleventh through the twelfth centuries, the toponym Garðar, that has completely lost its relation with the original semantics of the word garðr, is being transformed, according to the X-ríki pattern that serves for the designation of a state formation, into Garðaríki” (Melnikova 1977a, 206–7). Methodologically, the most justified treatment, undeservedly passed over in silence, of a correlation between Garðar and Garðaríki is by Feodor Braun. According to him, the name Garðaríki was created by those Icelanders who wrote down sagas from the late twelfth century. Up to that time, in the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries, Garðar was used for the designation of Old Rus’ all over the Scandinavian peninsula. Correspondingly, the problem of these two place-names’ correlation should be solved not on the basis of the younger form Garðaríki, but taking into account the original form Garðar (Braun 1924, 192–96). Let’s turn to the sources, following these directions. The earliest fixation of Garðar as a designation of Old Rus’ is found in Óláfsdrápa 4 by the Icelandic skald Hallfreðr vandræðaskáld (died ca. 1007), composed in 996 and 1 In what follows the list of bibliographical references is abridged. For more literature on the subject see Jackson 1986a, 2003b.
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preserved in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by Oddr Snorrason, in two great compendia of the Norwegian kings, Fagrskinna and Heimskringla, and in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta (see above, p. 26). In skaldic poetry of the tenth through the twelfth centuries, Old Rus’ is referred to only by this name.2 In runic inscriptions of the eleventh century, the toponym Garðar is used ten times, albeit two, or three, readings are hypothetical (N 62; Vs 1 (?); G 114; Sö 130, Sö 148, Sö 338; U 153 (?), U 209, U 636; Öl 28; see Melnikova 1977b).3 In Ágrip af Nóregskonunga sǫgum, we encounter Garðar only once, and five times Austrvegr serves as a name for Rus’. In Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by Oddr Snorrason Rus’ is designated by place-names with the root aust- three times, with Garðar seven times, with Garðaríki and Garðaveldi one time each. A correlation of the same toponyms in Morkinskinna is as follows: Austrvegr, Austrríki, and Garðar are used twice each, and once there occurs Garðaríki. In Fagrskinna place-names Garðar and Garðaríki are used in practically equal proportion, with a slight preponderance of the latter. In Snorri’s Heimskringla only Garðaríki is used as a name for Old Rus’. In fornaldarsögur, the set expression austr í Görðum is found only twice (for details see Jackson 1984). Thus, we see that in the late tenth century the place-name Garðar was spread in Old Norse, while in the thirteenth century it was almost no longer in use, having been substituted by Garðaríki.4 The question naturally arises of how the name Garðar could have originated in respect to Old Rus’. One of the attempts to give an answer to this question was an erroneous statement that “the name of Rus’ Garðr [sic]” is “a derivative from Hólmgarðr” (Melnikova 1977a, 204). On the one hand, the most obvious mistake here is a confusion of two completely different place-names, Garðr (singular) and Garðar (plural), the first being an abbreviation of the Old Norse name for Constantinople, Miklagarðr, the second serving as a designation of Rus’. On the other hand, this conclusion can not be proved by the material of skaldic poems, since Hólmgarðr is not familiar to their authors at all, while Rus’ is mentioned by them repeatedly and is called Garðar. Nor do runic inscriptions support this statement. Garðar is used about ten times in them, and Hólmgarðr only three times (G 220; Sö 171; U 687), both names being used in runic inscriptions through the whole eleventh century. Thus, there is no doubt that dating Hólmgarðr with the ninth and Garðar with the eleventh century (Melnikova 1977a, 207, table) strongly contradicts the Old Norse source material. Source data definitely testify to the fact that the place-names Garðar and Hólmgarðr originated at approximately the same time, and this makes the declaration of a desemantization of the root garð-in one of them doubtful (in Hólmgarðr garð-is supposed to have lost its meaning) (Melnikova 1977a, 205 ff.). It is evident that the Old Norse designation of Rus’, Garðar, had, at the time of its formation, a certain meaning which is going to be discussed here. 2 Thirteen skaldic strophes of the tenth and eleventh centuries that occur in Morkinskinna, Fagrskinna and Heimskringla, mention Old Rus’ under the name of Garðar. 3 Kristel Zilmer has doubt concerning Sö 130 as well (Zilmer 2005, 144–58).
4 These data prove again that the dynamics of the development of the Viking age toponymy was determined not by the historical reality, but by the time when this or that Old Norse text (or group of texts) was composed and written down.
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The Old Norse garðr has the following meanings: (1) a fence of any kind, a fortification; (2) a yard (an enclosed space); (3) a courtyard, court and premises; (4) a separated farm (in Iceland); and (5) a house or building in a country or village (especially in Norway, Denmark and Sweden) (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 191–92; Baetke 1964, 186; Holthausen 1948, 80; Alexander Jóhannesson 1956, 364; Vries 1961, 156; Ásgeir Blöndal Magnússon 1989, 230). However, all these meanings give no explanation for the fact that the plural form of this noun, Garðar, became a designation of Old Rus’. Nor can they explain why the place-name Garðaríki came into existence, why the root garð- served to form the names of the three major towns on “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks”—namely Hólmgarðr (Novgorod), Kænugarðr (Kiev), and Miklagarðr (Constantinople) (see chapter 7)—and why this noun became a designation of “capital towns” in general in a set expression hǫfuð garðar (Hb 1892–96, 155) used in Hauksbók, instead of a traditional hǫfuð borgar. Since the root garð- was used in Old Norse texts mostly for the formation of East European place-names, scholars have naturally paid attention to the relation between the Old Icelandic word garðr and the Old Russian городъ/градъ (gorod/grad). The Old Russian word, in its turn, has the following meanings: (1) a fence; (2) a fortified place, town walls, a fortification; (3) a field defensive work; and (4) a settlement, an administrative and trade centre (Sreznevskiy 1893, col. 555–56; Kochin 1937, 66–67). Proceeding from the fact that garðr and городъ are related words (Vasmer 1986, 1:443; Vries 1977, 156) and they have, among other meanings, a common one—“a fence, a fortified place”—it is natural to conclude that, at a certain chronological stage, they were identical in their meaning. The Scandinavian name for Old Rus’ had to have originated in the ninth century, as, according to archaeological data, Scandinavians in Rus’ can be traced back to the second half of the ninth century, with the exception of Old Ladoga where their traces go back to the 750s (Kirpichnikov et al. 1980). But what was the reason for the Scandinavian newcomers to call the territory populated by the Slavs (to be more precise, the northwest of Eastern Europe, since they first came there, and it was the region with which they kept the closest links) in the late ninth and tenth centuries Garðar? What was the character of settlements in this territory at this period? All preceding discourse leads to the conclusion that those had to have been fortified sites, but not towns in the later sense of the word. Archaeological materials witness that even in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries there were only three towns in the Novgorod Land, namely Pskov, Novgorod, and Ladoga, and the general number of Old Russian towns of that period did not surpass twenty-one (Kuza 1983, 21–22). At the same time in the Novgorod Land there were no fewer than twenty fortified settlements going back to the epoch of the Old Rus’ state formation (Bulkin, Dubov, Lebedev 1978, 77). The analysis of the topography of hoards with Kufic coins of the eighth through the tenth centuries, carried out by Evgeniy Nosov, has proved that in the basin of Lake Il’men’ two main trade routes of the Middle Ages crossing Eastern Europe converged, namely the Baltic–Volga route and “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks” (Nosov 1976). Exactly in this region, in the very centre of the Novgorod Land (along the river Volkhov, in the lower reaches of the rivers flowing into Lake Il’men’, and along the river Pola), the above-mentioned fortified settlements were situated. They
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served both as hiding places for the population of the immediate neighbourhood, and as control stations on the waterways. They were often situated at the most complicated sections of these ways, which is typical, first of all, of the settlements on the banks of the Volkhov river (Nosov 1981). Thus, the Scandinavians, who journeyed on their way from Ladoga down the Volkhov into other Slavonic territories,5 came across a chain of fortified settlements along the Volkhov (together with Old Ladoga, these are Lyubsha, Novye Duboviki, Gorodishche, Kholopiy gorodok, Ryurikovo Gorodishche), and these were called by the local population города (goroda). The Old Norse toponymy of the non-Scandinavian territories was formed on the basis of local prototypes acquired by the Scandinavians who arrived, and then often reinterpreted by them in accordance with the mechanism of popular etymology that generally works in inter-ethnic linguistic contacts (see Jackson 2001a). Accordingly, the earliest Scandinavian designation of Rus’—Garðar—that originated in the ninth century, is based on the principle of phonetic assimilation: those fortified settlements called goroda enabled Scandinavians in the first stage of their acquaintance with the territory to call Rus’—to be more exact, the Ladoga– Il’men’ region—Garðar (“Goroda = fortifications”). Only later, when knowledge about other regions of Eastern Europe began to form, the name Garðar was extended to the entire territory of the Old Russian state. The fact that the ethno-geographical nomenclature of the Old Norse sources was formed simultaneously with the Scandinavian infiltration into Eastern Europe, but penetrated into the sources with a certain delay (see chapter 2), does not allow us to accept the broad interpretation of the toponym Garðar. Thus, it can not be understood as “a network of settlements-garðar” (i.e., Hólmgarðr, Kænugarðr, Miklagarðr), which includes the three largest towns (namely, Novgorod, Kiev, Constantinople) on “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks” (Petrukhin 2000). Neither can it be interpreted as a designation of “the ‘multi-ethnic trading and handicraft centres’ […] found along the Russian rivers and through which Scandinavians traded with the Islamic world” (Jesch 2001, 95– 96). Taking into account the sequence of the toponyms’ occurrence in the Old Norse texts it is also hard to believe that “Garðar is used as a name for the whole region in which these towns were found, which is perhaps best called ‘European Russia’ and defined as ‘the entire area between the Arctic and the Black seas and between Poland and the Urals’ (Noonan 1997, 134)” (Jesch 2001, 96).6 Formed on the basis of the earlier name, the composite Garðaríki, recorded in the large compendia of the kings’ sagas, must probably be understood not as the “Country of Fortifications” but as the “Country of Towns.” It is hardly possible to see this name solely as a product of literary creation. Rather, we should talk about the logical evolution of the toponym Garðar as being determined by the socio-economic development of the Old 5 Archaeological data permit us to speak of Slavic colonization in the Il’men’ Lake area already by the eighth and ninth centuries (Nosov 1976, 108–9).
6 The quotation is from Thomas Noonan’s contribution to an illustrated popular book on Vikings, and the definition of “European Russia” is chronologically incorrect in this particular context, as the borders it describes refer to the situation in the early twelfth century.
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Russian state and the entire complex of socio-political and ethno-cultural ties between Old Rus’ and Scandinavian countries. We have seen that the earliest Scandinavian designation of Rus’ originated in the ninth century and referred to a chain of fortified settlements called by the local population goroda and situated from Ladoga to Ryurikovo Gorodishche along the Volkhov. It received a phonetically similar name Garðar, which two centuries later acquired the form of Garðaríki according to an X-ríki model for the designation of state formations. Now we will turn to which towns saga authors knew in Old Rus’.
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Chapter 7
HÓLMGARÐR (NOVGOROD) AND KÆNUGARÐR (KIEV) OLD NORSE SOURCES have preserved the names of twelve towns that were considered by medieval authors, as well as by their modern editors, to have been Old Russian towns. These are Hólmgarðr, Aldeigjuborg, Kænugarðr, Súrdalar, Pallteskia, Smaleskia, Móramar, Rostofa, Sýrnes, Gaðar, Álaborg, and Danparstaðir. The first eight of them are in effect unanimously identified with Novgorod, Ladoga, Kiev, Suzdal’, Polotsk, Smolensk, Murom, and Rostov. Firstly, these are the oldest, and as well the largest, Old Russian towns: seven of them are among the ten towns named by the Russian Primary Chronicle in the entries under the ninth century. Secondly, what is very important about them is that they are connected with the main trade routes of the late first and early second millennium. Polotsk, Smolensk, Suzdal’, Murom, and Rostov belong to the water route of the Western Dvina—the Dnieper—the Oka—the Volga; Ladoga, Novgorod, Smolensk, and Kiev are stopping places on “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks” (the Volkhov— the Lovat’—the Dnieper). This fact helps explain why, on the one hand, Scandinavians were familiar with these towns and, on the other hand, the names of these towns have been preserved in Old Norse literature. Information about Russian towns in the Old Norse sources is diverse, from laconic mentions of their names and stereotypical ideas to concrete details verified by other sources, and sometimes really unique material. In this chapter we shall deal with two of them— Hólmgarðr and Kænugarðr—whose names are formed with the same root (garð-) as the designation of the whole state, Garðaríki.
Novgorod
The Old Norse place-name Hólmgarðr has traditionally been considered to be the designation of Novgorod. In one of the redactions of Göngu-Hrólfs saga this identity is voiced: “Hólmgarðaborg […] þat er nú kallat Nógarðar” (“Hólmgarðaborg […] which now has the name of Nógarðar”) (Göngu-Hrólfs saga 1830, 362). The earliest occurrence of Hólmgarðr is in a runic inscription on Esta rock (Sö 171), of the first half of the eleventh century, and there are two cases more (G 220; U 687). The skalds are not familiar with the name. Still the name is popular in Old Norse literature, where it occurs more than hundred times, in all other types of sources. The Origin of the Name
All the extant interpretations of this place-name are diverse. The historians of the last century have rejected the false identification of Hólmgarðr and Holmogory (going back to Thormodus Thorfæus, 1636–1719) and are prone to understand Hólmgarðr as a designation of Novgorod. Nevertheless, their treatment of the place-name is contradictory. It is understood as (1) Il’men’skiy gorod (a town on the Lake Il’men’); (2) a town on an
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island (from hólmr “island”); (3) settlements in the insularum regio (during the high- flood on the Volkhov); and (4) Holm-gorod (a fortified settlement Holm).1 The proponents of the first theory were few (Müllenhoff 1860, 346), and not without reason did Elena Rydzevskaya stress that the explanation—Il’men’ > Hólm—“was unsatisfactory mainly from the point of view of phonetics” (Rydzevskaya 1922, 105–6). The prevalent opinion until recently had been that Hólmgarðr implies “a town on an island” (Munch 1873–76, 2:264; Mikkola 1907, 279; Łowmiański 1957, 156n568; Grekov 1959, 356), as the main meaning of the Old Icelandic word hólmr is “island.”2 However, Rydzevskaya, following Feodor Braun, emphasized that “its second element is the Russian word gorod in the Scandinavian transmission,” and if we assume that its first element is Scandinavian, the word will appear as “mixed in origin and hardly probable” (Rydzevskaya 1922, 110). It is necessary to clarify here that bilingual place-names often arise in the process of inter-ethnic contacts, but the local element in them is always the initial, the semantic, one, while the second, word-building, element is of foreign origin (cf. Aldeigju-borg), but never vice versa. What I want to say is that the compound made of ON hólmr + OR gorod is simply impossible in a given historical situation; a place- name compounded of OR хълмъ (holm) + ON garðr could have emerged if ON garðr had served as a word-building element with the meaning of a fortified place (which was not the case). So, this could only be a borrowing of a local name, *Хълмъ-городъ (*Holm- gorod). But one should make a strict distinction between the moment of the emergence of a place-name and its further life. Thus, it is equally unbelievable that a Scandinavian- Slavic compound could have arisen in the Slavic milieu, and that the local meaning of *Holm-gorod could have been preserved by Scandinavians who had in their language such words as hólmr “island” and garðr “yard, farm, house,” as well as the names with the elements hólm-and garð-. As to the third reading of Hólmgarðr, N. M. Karamzin, proceeding from a wrong postulate that “Gard designates not only a town, but a country as well,” came to the conclusion that Hólmgarðr implied “a land of islands, insularum regio, or a town on an island” (Karamzin 1842, bk. 1, n97 to vol. I, ch. 2). Boris Kleiber’s treatment of the place-name is likely to have been borrowed from Karamzin (Kleiber 1957, 215–18). But while Karamzin based his judgement on the semantics of the elements constituting the word, Kleiber used topographic data to prove that the meaning of this name was not “a town on an island,” but “insularum regio.” His hypothesis is doubtful for several reasons. Firstly, his topographic description is not historically true; the author quotes 1 In what follows the list of bibliographical references is abridged. For more literature on the subject, see Jackson 1986a, 2003b.
2 Perhaps, not being familiar with the topography of the locality de visu, Simon Franklin and Jonathan Shepard point to the “peculiarly insular character of Gorodishche” near Novgorod “expressed, apparently from the outset, in its name, if one accepts that Scandinavian sources denote it by ‘Holmgarthr’ (literally, ‘island compound’)” (Franklin, Shepard 1996, 40). Relying on their opinion, Judith Jesch gives the following questionable definition: “Holmgarðr, lit. ‘island-enclosure’, originally the Swedish name for Gorodishche, situated on an island, later transferred to the nearby ‘new town’ Novgorod” (Jesch 2001, 97).
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data characterizing today’s Il’men’ Lake, while, in the period in question, the water level in the lake and in the river Volkhov flowing out of it was much lower (cf. Il’ina, Grakhov 1980). Secondly, the saga material is in strong contradiction with his statement that the Scandinavians arrived in the Il’men’ area at the time of a spring high-flood. Thirdly, among his arguments the linguistic ones are missing: if hólmr still means “an island,” there is no way to prove that garðr could correspond to the Latin regio. Kleiber, however, has some adherents. In full agreement with Kleiber, Elena Melnikova tries to ground her opinion that “the eldest East European place-name in Scandinavia was the name of the region where the direct route (without portages, along the Gulf of Finland, the Neva, the Ladoga Lake and the Volkhov) ended,” and claims that “the name of Rus’ Garðr [sic]” is “a derivation from Hólmgarðr.” Here, to hide the inaccuracy, she adds a specification: “used mostly in the plural” (Melnikova 1977a, 204, 205). The Old Norse material does not permit us to accept this specification either, since the name of Rus’ is the plural form Garðar only, and never the singular Garðr (= Miklagarðr). In her other work, Melnikova formulates her understanding of the problem in a somewhat different way: “If we agree with B. Kleiber’s understanding of Hólmgarðr as a designation of a region, but not a settlement, then we may suppose that the original place-name was Hólmgarðar (the plural form), and out of it an abbreviated form Garðar emerged” (Melnikova 1977b, 203; see also Melnikova 1996a, 15). But this assumption is refuted with the fact (noted by Melnikova herself) that the plural form Hólmgarðar occurs only in the late sagas. Until recently, E. N. Nosov was translating Hólmgarðr as “insularum regio,” and “settlements on the islands” (Nosov 1984, 32, 33) but he finally recognized the existence of a different point of view, and declared that “there are no irrefutable linguistic arguments in support of any of these views” (Nosov 1997, 13). And lastly, the scholar accepted an opposing view which will be discussed below (Nosov 1998, Nosov 2000). Gottfried Schramm is also close to Kleiber’s understanding of the element hólm- (Schramm 1984, 102). But, as we have seen, such explanations of the origin and meaning of Hólmgarðr are not irreproachable from a linguistic point of view. The fourth interpretation of the place-name Hólmgarðr owes its appearance to Elena Rydzevskaya, who pointed to the possibility of a certain connection between the names Holm (the old place-name related to the Slavenskiy region, konets, of medieval Novgorod) and Hólmgarðr (Rydzevskaya 1922, 105, 110, 111). V. L. Yanin and M. Kh. Aleshkovskiy then put forward a supposition that the Old Norse Hólmgarðr was nothing but “the earliest local name of Novgorod, to be more precise, of one of its components” (Yanin, Aleshkovskiy 1971, 41), and Yanin even posed a question whether Hólmgarðr reflected the early name of a settlement in Slavno, *Holmgorod (Yanin 1982, 83). The linguistic materials give a positive answer to this question: they show that the place-names Garðar and Hólmgarðr originated at about the same time, in the late ninth century, when the root garð- was nearly identical in meaning to the Old Russian городъ (“a fence, a fortified place”). As we have seen already, the Old Norse name could be nothing but a reflection of the local *Holmgorod. However, in due time, popular etymology must have put together Hólmgarðr and hólmr “island,” which brought to life, for instance, the idea that a hero could sail to Hólmgarðr and “herja þaðra um eyjar ok annes” (“go harrying there all over the islands and the promontories”) (Fæ reyinga saga 2006, 43).
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Decisive in evaluating the origin and meaning of the Old Norse place-name Hólmgarðr are the results one may arrive at through the investigation of the whole group of place- names with the root garð-(Jackson, Molchanov 1990). It includes, along with the above discussed names of Rus’, Garðar and Garðaríki, the names of three main stations on “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks”—namely, Hólmgarðr (Novgorod), Kænugarðr (Kiev), and Miklagarðr (Constantinople). Town names within this group, built on one and the same pattern, X-garðr, differ radically from the rest of the geographical names of Rus’ (i.e. Móramar “Murom,” Pallteskia “Polotsk,” etc.) and constitute a self-contained group. The chronology of emergence of these three town names is evident, since the formation in the ninth century of a transit route through Eastern Europe along the Volkhov and the Dnieper progressed for Scandinavians stage by stage, from north to south. The analysis shows that Kænugarðr and Miklagarðr were also a reflection of local, autochtonal names, as all other Scandinavian names in Eastern Europe. By the way, this principle of phonetic assimilation was typical of Scandinavian place-name-making in general: cf. Vinðland, Eistland, Kúrland, Kirjálaland, Finnland, England, Bretland, Norþimbraland, Lundún, Grímsbær, Jórvík, Vincestr, etc. This observation enables us to assert that this was the only possible way of formation of the first place-name on the Volkhov–Dnieper route—Hólmgarðr—as well. According to the First Novgorodian Сhronicle, Holm was a name of one of the districts of medieval Novgorod, in the southern part of Slavenskiy region (NPL 1950, 23, 27, 40, 44, 45, 71, 208, 231, 238, 240, 280). The name was a reflection of the immediate landscape, since the hill on Slavno used to be about seven or eight metres higher than the average level of the surrounding territory (Kushnir 1975, 178). And although Holm in Novgorod is mentioned in the chronicle only under the year 1134 (NPL 1950, 23, 208), the place-name is likely to have originated in the early period of the Slavic settlement on the high right bank of the Volkhov river, within the boundaries of the further Slavenskiy region.3 There is still another possibility which should not be excluded. *Holmgorod could have been the name of the so-called Ryurikovo Gorodishche, a settlement two kilometres away from Novgorod at a place where the Volkhov flows out of the Il’men’ Lake (see Franklin, Shepard 1996, 40). The settlement here was founded no later than in the mid-ninth century. In the ninth through the tenth centuries Gorodishche was the main trade, crafts, military, and administrative centre of the region. It was as well a religious, heathen, centre (Peryn’). When Rus’ was converted to Christianity, pagan Peryn’ and Gorodishche were abandoned, and the prince’s residence at the time of Yaroslav the Wise was transferred close to Yaroslavovo Dvorishche in what is now called Novgorod. Actually, at that moment the name Gorodishche (“Old fortress”) surfaced in opposition to Novgorod (“New fortification”) (Nosov 1998). A certain contradiction arises. In Novgorod archaeologists have not yet found (and are very likely not to find) any layers dating to earlier than the mid-tenth century. The name Novgorod had emerged by the middle of the eleventh century; however, a number
3 Slavno and Slavenskiy konets occur in the chronicle under the years 1105 and 1234 (NPL 1950, 19, 71, 203, 280).
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of entries in the earliest Russian chronicles, dedicated to the times of Ryurik, Oleg, Ol’ga, Vladimir and Yaroslav, mention Novgorod. It has been plausibly suggested that this usage could not be a mere projection of a place-name that appeared only in the eleventh century. The chroniclers of the twelfth century, while relating the events of the ninth and tenth centuries, could have had in mind that region of Novgorod which in the middle of the eleventh century acquired the name of Gorodishche (Nosov 1995). To my mind, the place-name Hólmgarðr could have developed in a similar way: it could have originated as a reflection of a local *Хълмъ-городъ (*Holm-gorod), the name of a settlement that later became Gorodishche; then, with migration of its inhabitants to the territory of the future Slavenskiy region of Novgorod, the toponym might have been brought there, partially due to the similarity of abandoned and newly settled lay of land. Still, as long as it was used, Hólmgarðr, in the eyes of medieval Scandinavians, was nothing but a designation of the capital of Garðaríki. Hólmgarðr, the Capital of Garðaríki
In Eymundar þáttr, interwoven by the compiler of Flateyjarbók into Óláfs saga helga, it is told how Eymundr Hringsson suggests his men should travel to Rus’: Ek hefui frett andlat Ualldamars konungs austan ór Gardariki ok hafa nu þat riki synir hans þrir hinir agætazstu menn. en hann skipti med þeim rikinu ualla at iafnnade þuiat nu hefir æinn mæira riki en hinir.ij. ok hæitir æinn Burizlafr er mest hefir af fỏdurleifdinne ok er hann þeirra ellzstr. annarr hæitir Jarizleifr. hinn þride Uartilaf. Burizlafr hefir Kænugard ok er hann bezst riki j ỏllu Gardariki. Jarizleifr hefir Holmgard en hinn þride Pallteskiu ok þat riki allt er þar liggr til. (Flat 1862, 119–20)
(I’ve heard that east in Garðaríki King Valdimar has died, and his kingdom is in the hands of his three sons, all good men. King Valdimar divided the kingdom between them unevenly, one son having a larger share than the other two. The one who inherited most is the eldest, Burislaf—the second is called Jarisleif and the third Vartilaf. Burislaf has Kiev, the best realm in all Garðaríki, while Jarisleif has Novgorod, and Vartilaf Polotsk and all the region around.) (Eymundar saga 1989, 71)4
The story of Eymundr’s adventures in Rus’ is considered to be a reflection of the fratricidal feud between the sons of Vladimir the Saint after his death on June 15, 1015. The brothers Burizlafr, Jarizleifr, and Vartilaf of Eymundar þáttr are thought to be, correspondingly, Svyatopolk, Yaroslav, and Bryachislav. Garðaríki, according to what Eymundr says, consists of three large parts, with capitals in Kiev, Novgorod, and Polotsk, the former being “the best realm.” The final part of the þáttr describes a redistribution of these lands, carried out by Ingigerðr, the wife of Prince Yaroslav: 4 With my emendation in translation: Garðaríki instead of Russia.
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Hon segir Jarizleifi konungi at hann skal hafua hinn æzsta hlut Gardarikis en þat er Holmgard. en Uartilafr skal hafa Kænugard þat er annat bezst riki med skottum ok skylldum […] en Pallteskiu ok þat riki er þar liggr til skal hafua Eymundr konungr ok vera þar konungr yfir […] Jarizleifr konungr skal vera yfir Gardariki. (Flat 1862, 133)
(She told King Jarisleif that he should have the best part of Garðaríki, that is, Novgorod. “But Vartilaf shall have Kiev,” she said, “the second best kingdom, with all its dues and taxes […] As for Polotsk and the lands belonging to it, they shall be given to King Eymund to rule over […] King Jarisleif is to be overlord of Garðaríki as a whole.) (Eymundar saga 1989, 88–89)5
Arkadiy Lyashchenko wrote about this: “The radical redistribution of the Russian lands, which we learn about from the saga, not mentioned by our chronicles, was a result of allotment of Eymundr by the saga author with Polotsk; for the loss of Polotsk he was compelled to reward Bryachislav with Kiev. But then Yaroslav could not remain the prince of the entire Rus’ if Kiev had been taken from him. So, we cannot agree with this” (Lyashchenko 1926a, 1085). On the contrary, we can and must agree with this, for the sagas do not convey real facts, but the idea of space and events that was present in the picture of the world of their authors. And in this case, it amounts to the fact that Jarizleifr (Yaroslav the Wise), who is sitting in Hólmgarðr (Novgorod), is a king over Garðaríki (Rus’), and accordingly, Hólmgarðr is the capital of Garðaríki. Foreign envoys and travellers go to Garðaríki and come to Hólmgarðr to its konungr (i.e., the prince), whether he is Valdamarr (Vladimir Svyatoslavich), Jarizleifr (Yaroslav the Wise), Haraldr (Mstislav Vladimirovich), or Alexander (Alexander Nevskiy). Tatars, according to Hákonar saga Hákonarsonar, attack “the state of the king of Hólmgarðr.” Russian princes bear the name of “konungr af Hólmgarði,” “Hólmgarðskonungr,” “Hólmgarðakonungr.” Finally, a fourteenth-century Göngu-Hrólfs saga says that “í Hólmgarðaborg er mest atsetr Garðakonúngs” (“The main seat of the king of Garðar is in Hólmgarðaborg”) (Göngu-Hrólfs saga 1830, 362). The material indicates that in the minds of saga authors and their audience Hólmgarðr had always been the capital of a country beyond the Baltic Sea, Garðar/Garðaríki. Kænugarðr (Kiev) was never considered in the sagas the capital of Garðaríki. It is remarkable that there are no concrete data referring to Kænugarðr. Named about ten times in the late sagas and geographical treatises, Kænugarðr is included in the lists of towns or lands (plural form) in Garðaríki. This “capital honour” was granted in the kings’ sagas to Hólmgarðr, which became known to Scandinavians at the early stage of their penetration into Eastern Europe. The same position in the insufficiently reliable fornaladarsögur is sometimes occupied by Aldeigjuborg (Ladoga). In Heimskringla, for instance, Jarizleifr, the king of Hólmgarðr, gives Aldeigjuborg, the centre of a jarlsríki 5 With my emendation in translation: Garðaríki instead of Russia.
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where she puts her kinsman, as a wedding gift to his bride, the Swedish princess Ingigerðr. Then, in the legendary Hálfdanar saga Eysteinssonar, a similar pair of towns—the capital of Garðaríki and a centre of a jarlsríki—is formed by Aldeigjuborg and Álaborg (see Glazyrina, Jackson 1986). Indirect information beyond saga narratives demonstrates that Aldeigja and Hólmgarðr—that were, for Scandinavian newcomers, the first towns in Eastern Europe—from the very beginning “received” in the sagas the status of capital cities, and in this capacity remained in the sagas as long as those were being composed, told, and written down. In Hólmgarðr, according to the sagas, were found the king’s court and his hall. Thus, Oddr Snorrason tells in his Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar how King Valdamarr’s elderly mother, a prophetess, was carried on the first evening of Yule on a chair to the king’s throne and predicted the appearance of Óláfr in Garðaríki, while Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta specifies that the custom was to carry her in when men were all seated in the king’s hall (“höll konungs”) (see below, pp. 118–20). We read in Morkinskinna: “Þess er við getit at konungrinn Jarizleifr lét sér gera dýrliga hǫll með mikilli fegrð, þrýða með gulli ok gimsteinum” (“It is told that King Yaroslav had a splendid hall constructed in magnificent style, ornamented with gold and prescious stones”) (Msk 2011, 1:3; Msk 2000, 89). This story begins with the statement that King Yaroslav ruled Garðaríki, but later all the events described take place in Hólmgarðr, so we can conclude that the king was sitting in Hólmgarðr and built his hall in this town. There are, following Snorri Sturluson, the chamber and courtyard of the princess: when young Óláfr Tryggvason had killed the murderer of his foster father in Hólmgarðr, his kinsman Sigurðr immediately took him to the queen’s quarters (“í herbergi dróttningar”). People searched for the boy, and “someone said that he was on the queen’s premises (“í garði dróttningar”) and there was an army of men there fully armed” (Hkr 1941, 231; Hkr 2011, 141). Eymundar þáttr tells that there was built in Hólmgarðr a “great hall” for Eymundr and all his troops. Sagas also mention in Hólmgarðr a market place and a church dedicated to St. Óláfr (see below, pp. 81–82). Hólmgarðr (Novgorod) as One of the Centres of International Trade
The idea of Hólmgarðr as a market town is, first of all, expressed lexically: it is labelled in Óláfs saga helga as a kaupbær (ÓHLeg 1922, 117; Flat 1862, 507). Four terms are used synonymously in the sagas to designate market towns: kaupbær, kaupangr, kauptún, and kaupstaðr (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 333–34). And only Novgorod, out of twelve Old Russian towns familiar to the Old Norse-Icelandic sources, is characterized in such a way. The sources mention a Novgorodian market place. In Historia Norwegie, and in several sagas (Ágrip af Noregskonunga sǫgum, Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by monk Oddr Snorrason and by Snorri Sturluson in Heimskringla) there occurs (with certain variations) a story of Óláfr Tryggvason who, during his stay in Novgorod as a little boy, comes across the murderer of his foster father in the marketplace and finally kills him (see below, pp. 123– 25). While in the Latin text of Historia Norwegie the term forum is used, in the sagas we meet a word which is a Viking age borrowing from Old Russian—torg < търгъ—though
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in Old Icelandic there was still another possibility to express the same notion: the word markaðr (from Latin mercatus): in Hauks þáttr hábrókar the hero comes to a place where a market is set, “þar er markadr er settr” (Flat 1860, 577). Travellers to Novgorod are named “Hólmgarðsfari.” Terms ending in fari are few in number and very concrete: judging from saga contexts we can assert that a “Jórsalafari” is a traveller (a pilgrim) to Jerusalem, a “Dyflinnarfari” is a Dublin trader, an “Englandsfari” is an English seaman. A “Hólmgarðsfari” is not a mere traveller to Novgorod—he is someone who trades with Hólmgarðr (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 144). Thus, Færeyinga saga tells about a man named Hrafn who “regularly travelled to Hólmgarðr and was therefore called Hólmgarðsfari” (“hann sigldi jafnan til Hólmgarðs, ok var hann kallaðr Hólmgarðsfari”), and who had merchants (“kaupmenn”) on board his ship (Fæ reyinga saga saga 2006, 18); Snorri Sturluson tells in Heimskringla that skald Sigvatr, worrying about Magnús Óláfsson who was at that time in Rus’, “often asked merchants Hólmgarðsfari what they could tell him about Magnús” (“Sigvatr spurði optliga, er hann fann kaupmenn, Hólmgarðsfara, hvat þeir kynni segja honum til Magnúss Óláfssonar”) (Hkr 1951, 18); it is said in Landnámabók (Þórðarbók version) that a man named Björn “was a great traveller (Hólmgarðsfari) and a merchant. He often went to Austrvegr and brought back better furs than many other merchants did” (“hann var farmaðr mikill (Hólmgarðsfari) ok kaupmaðr, fór opt í Austrveg ok hafði betri skinnavǫru en aðrir kaupmenn flestir”) (Landn 1969, 212n2).6 Merchants going to Garðaríki are often mentioned in the sagas: Ástríðr with her three-year-old son Óláfr Tryggvason “travelled with some merchants” (“fór hon með kaupmǫnnum nǫkkurum”) (Hkr 1941, 230); a warrior named Björn sailed east to King Valdamarr with some merchants (Bjarnar saga 1938, 120, ch. 4), and so on. Merchants going to Garðaríki are nicknamed gerzki (from Garðar). There is a Guðleikr gerzki in Heimskringla (Hkr 1945, 269), a Gilli gerzki in Laxdæla saga who was said to be “the wealthiest man the guild of merchants had ever known” (“auðgastan sem verit höfðu í kaupmannalǫgum”) (Laxdœla saga 1934, 23, ch. 12; Laxdœla saga 1969, 64). We learn from the sources that not only Scandinavians exercised trade in the Baltic. Sagas show how high the reputation of Russian merchants was in Europe. Thus, in Oddr Snorrason’s Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar it is told that Óláfr, on his arrival to Northumberland to jarl Sigurðr, answered the jarl’s question about his name and origin with the words that his name was Áli hinn auðgi (the Wealthy) and that he was a merchant, and that they all had come from Garðaríki (ÓTOddr 2006, 169). It is not clear from Oddr’s saga what in fact Áli’s origin was, but for Snorri Sturluson, as we can see, there was no doubt that Áli had been a Russian: in Heimskringla, Óláfr, trying to conceal his real name, calls himself “Áli, gerzkr at ætt,” i.e., “Áli, Russian by birth” (Hkr 1941, 291). At some places in the sagas we come across detailed descriptions of Scandinavian merchants’ trips to Novgorod. Here are two of them. The first one comes from Óláfs 6 Landnámabók is an Icelandic written work, likely to have been composed in the first quarter of the twelfth century, but surviving in redactions from the late thirteenth century or later, that contains detailed accounts of the settlement of Iceland.
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saga helga in Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla and tells of a trade trip on the initiative of King Óláfr: Maðr hét Guðleikr gerzki. Hann var ætzkaðr af Ǫgðum. Hann var farmaðr ok kaupmaðr mikill, auðigr ok rak kaupferðir til ýmissa landa. Hann fór austr í Garðaríki optliga, ok var hann fyrir þá sǫk kallaðr Guðleikr gerzki. Þat vár bjó Guðleikr skip sitt ok ætlaði at fara um sumarit til Garða austr. […] Guðleikr fór um sumarit í Austrveg til Hólmgarðs ok keypti þar pell ágætlig, er hann ætlaði konungi til tígnarklæða sér, ok þar með skinn dýr ok enn borðbúnað forkunnligan. (Hkr 1945, 83–84)
(There was a man called Guðleikr gerzki (from Garðaríki). His family was from Agðir. He was a trader and a great merchant, wealthy and carrying out trading trips to various lands. He frequently went east to Garðaríki and he was for that reason often called Guðleikr gerzki (from Garðaríki). That spring Guðleikr got his ship ready and was planning to go east to Garðar in the summer. […] In the summer Guðleikr went to the eastern Baltic to Hólmgarðr and there bought splendidly fine cloths that he intended to be for the king for his robes of state, and also expensive furs and an excellent table service as well.) (Hkr 2014, 52–53)
The other description is from Hauks þáttr hábrókar in Flateyjarbók where it is told how King Haraldr the Fine-Haired sends his favourite man Haukr to Austrríki (here: Rus’) “to buy some valuables, expensive and rare” in Norway (“at kaupa […] nokkura agæta gripe ok fasena j uorum londum”) (Flat 1860, 577): Haukr ferr nu med einu skipe ok godre fylgd ok kemr austr j Holmgard um haustit ok hafde þar vetrsetu ok kemr hann þar er markadr er settr. þar var komit mikit folk ór morgum londum. […] þat var æinn dag at Haukr gek um bæinn vid suæit sina ok villde kaupa nokkura dyra gripe sinum herra Haralldi konungi. þa kom hann at þar sem fyrir sath æinn girzskr madr. Haukr ser þar æina dyrliga skikkiu su var oll vid gull buin. þessa skikkiu kaupir Haukr… (Flat 1860, 577)
(Haukr now sails on board one ship with good companions and comes to Hólmgarðr in the autumn, and spends winter there, and comes then to a place where a market is set up. There were many men from different countries at this market. […] One day Haukr was walking through this town with his warriors willing to buy some valuables for his master, King Haraldr. Then he came to a place where a Greek man was sitting. Haukr saw there a precious coat. It was decorated with gold all over. Haukr bought this coat…)
The passages quoted here tell about Norwegians in the market places of Old Rus’, which is important, since in Russian written sources there are no traces of any relations with Norway before the fourteenth century. As A. R. Lewis was right to notice, this saga tradition is well supported by numismatic data. Lewis gives a summary, based on numerous publications, of Byzantine and Arab silver coins of the tenth and eleventh centuries
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found in Norway and that could have reached the North only due to Russian–Norwegian trade contacts (Lewis 1958, 434–35). However, Lewis rejects the existence of such contacts in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, stating that at that time there appeared to be Danish and German intermediaries in Russian–Norwegian trade (Lewis 1958, 484). Here I would rather share the opinion of Igor’ Shaskol’skiy, who came to the conclusion that trips of Norwegian merchants to the Russian lands continued even after the Viking age, namely in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (Shaskol’skiy 1970, 44). The aforementioned passage in Heimskringla describes the skald Sigvatr who used to ask merchants going to Hólmgarðr about the young King Magnús could serve as further confirmation of Shaskol’skiy’s conclusion. The problem is that this passage is based on Sigvatr’s strophe that, in fact, does not mention any Hólmgarðsfari. These merchants are very likely to have been an invention of Snorri Sturluson himself, and correspondingly a reflection of the reality of the first decades of the thirteenth century. The description of a market in Novgorod attended by many people from different countries (Norwegians and Swedes among them) does not contradict the general picture of Novgorodian trade achieved by scholars through the study of numerous sources. Archaeologists have discovered many objects of Scandinavian origin of mid-tenth and eleventh centuries that could have reached Novgorod through trade (Sedova 1979, 180). Snorri’s text enables us to specify objects of Russian–Norwegian trade, namely those goods that Scandinavians could obtain in Novgorod. These are the aforementioned “splendidly fine cloths” for the king’s robes of state, “expensive furs and an excellent table service.” I agree with M. B. Sverdlov that acquisition of costly textiles produced in Byzantium, for the king and the nobility, might be considered as one of the goals of trade expeditions to Old Rus’ (Sverdlov 1974, 60). Both archaeological and linguistic data prove that Byzantine fabrics reached Old Rus’ as well as Scandinavia. Costly textiles are mentioned already in the treaty of 944 between Old Rus’ and Byzantium. V. T. Pashuto has stressed that, having confirmed the former rights of the Russian merchants, the treaty of 944, however, limited the volume of trade operations with costly textiles, thus protecting the interests of Byzantine merchants who were exporting these goods (Novoseltsev, Pashuto 1967, 83). In fact, in Hauks þáttr we encounter a Greek man selling splendid costly stuffs. The penetration of Byzantine fabrics to Scandinavia is attested archaeologically. Alongside Byzantine fabrics, there were also fabrics brought by merchants from Bulgar to Scandinavia. “Precious fabrics” are also mentioned by one of the sagas among other treasures imported from Garðaríki by Óláfr Tryggvason in six ships laden with precious objects (ÓTOddr 2006, 186). Still, in spite of all this information, it is hard to definitely state which costly stuffs were meant by Snorri in his Óláfs saga helga. As far as “an excellent table service” is concerned, we can refer to the results of the excavations in Novgorod. Among other artefacts there, one can find Near Eastern slip ceramics produced in Iran which was very expensive and could be afforded only by rich people. On the other hand, these could be local Novgorodian plates and dishes, as well as eastern silver ware, or works of Byzantine fine handicrafts. Furs were already a typical article of Novgorodian export in the ninth century. According to written sources of the ninth through the thirteenth centuries, Russian furs were well known in Byzantium, Germany, France, England, as well as in Choresm (see
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Novoseltsev, Pashuto 1967). The fact that the Old Russian word соболь (“sable”) had been borrowed by several European languages can serve as evidence of a wide spread of fur trade in Old Rus’. I have already mentioned a man called Björn Hólmgarðsfari who brought “better furs than many other merchants did.” In two other manuscripts of Landnámabók (Sturlubók and Hauksbók) he is introduced as “Björn who was nicknamed Skinna-Björn (i.e. Fur-Björn) because he was Hólmgarðsfari” (“Bjǫrn, er kallaðr var Skinna-Bjǫrn, því at hann var Hólmgarðsfari”) (Landn 1969, 212, 213), in which phrase trips to Novgorod and fur trade are interconnected. Some sagas mention a gerzkr höttr/ hattr (Gísla saga 1943, 90, ch. 28; Laxdœla saga 1934, 22–23, ch. 12; Njáls saga 1954, 83, ch. 31), which means nothing but “a hat from Garðaríki,” while it is often, not without reason, translated as “a Russian fur-cap” (Njáls saga 1960, 91). A number of Old Norse-Icelandic sources mention a church in Novgorod dedicated to St. Óláfr. Firstly, it is a runic inscription (U 687) produced by the rune carver Öpir (ØpiR) on a boulder at Sjusta (Uppland), mentioning a certain Spjallboði who “died in Hólmgarðr in Óláfr’s church” (an uar. tauþr . i hulmkarþi. i olafs. kriki).7 The dating of the runic inscription from Sjusta is actually based upon what is known about the activity of the carver Öpir. Several scholars have argued that he was active in the second half of the eleventh century and the beginning of the twelfth century (see Åhlen 1997, 25–27). Secondly, the church appears in two miracles in the Latin collection of miracles of the blessed Óláfr (Passio et miracula beati Olavi) produced by archbishop Eysteinn (see below, p. 132; cf. Jackson 2010). These miracles belong to the early collection of miracles. As far as their dating is concerned, we can be sure that 1153 is a terminus post quem for both of them (see Jiroušková 2010). Russian chronicles mention a varjazhskaja (“Varangian,” meaning “Scandinavian”) church in Novgorod, albeit without the name of its patron saint, and the earliest mention on record is somewhat earlier than the possible inclusion of the miracles into the Passio Olavi. Under the year 1152, the First Novgorodian Chronicle reports on a big fire “in the middle of the market place” (“въ сред Търгу”) in Novgorod, in which “eight churches were burnt down, and a ninth, the Varangian one” (“церквии съгоре 8, а 9-я Варязьс кая”) (NPL 1950, 29; ChronNovg 1970, 21). Three incidents involving the “Varangian” church are mentioned in the following two hundred years: it was burnt down once again in 1181 (“зажьжена бысть церкы от грома Варязьская на Търговищи”), “all the countless merchandise was burnt” there in 1217 (“въ Варязьскои божници изгорѣ товаръ вьсь варязьскыи бещисла”), and finally the church suffered from a fire in 1311 along with other stone churches (“каменных 6 огорѣ, 7-я Варяжьская”) (NPL 1950, 37, 57, 93; ChronNovg 1970, 31, 58, 118). Thus, the initial wooden church must have been rebuilt in stone after the fire of 1181. Some thirteenth-century sources (the Novgorodian Schra, Latin and German versions of the trade treaty of 1270 between Novgorod and German towns and Gotland, and some Russian chronicles) indicate that two foreign yards had existed in Novgorod by the late twelfth century: a German one with the church dedicated to St. Peter and a Gotlandic 7 On suggested other readings of this text see Melnikova 2001, 338–39; Zilmer 2005, 161–62.
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one with the church dedicated to St. Óláfr.8 After a thorough examination of the Tale of Novgorodian Posadnik Dobrynja and several other Old Russian written sources, Elena Rybina has concluded that the church of St. Óláfr in the Gotlandic Yard in Novgorod was built in the lifetime of posadnik Dobrynja (who died in 1117); that is, in the late eleventh or early twelfth century (Rybina 1978). Thus, early Russian and Old Norse sources suggest the turn of the twelfth century as the earliest date for the appearance of St. Óláfr’s church in Novgorod. The suggestion (Melnikova 2008, 130–31) that it was erected at the time of Haraldr Sigurðarson’s stay in Old Rus’ in the second quarter of the eleventh century (see chapter 14) is based on deductive reasoning only and cannot be supported by any source material. Even the fact that the thirteenth-century Novgorodian legal document Regulations of Paving (Ustav o mostekh) contains the place-name Garal’dov vymol (Haraldr’s landing place) at Novgorod’s Torgovaya Storona (Tikhomirov 1956, 381) does not prove King Haraldr’s participation in the erection of the church. To sum up, we can state that the surviving sources strongly indicate that the church of St. Óláfr existed in Novgorod as early as the late eleventh or early twelfth century, but no source material supports the tempting hypothesis that the church was erected at the time of Yaroslav the Wise by his Swedish wife Ingigerðr and his Norwegian guest Haraldr Sigurðarson (see Jackson 2010). The existence of a Scandinavian goods yard in Novgorod points to the fact that by the twelfth century trade relations between Rus’ and Scandinavian countries had acquired a relatively permanent and regulated character. Scholars of Old Rus’ foreign trade stress that the sources, no matter how scarce they are, enable us to conclude that already at that time stable inter-state systems of trade organization were being formed (Novosel’tsev, Pashuto 1967, 108).
Kiev
Kænugarðr/Kœnugarðr/Kiænugarðr is understood by all scholars as a designation of Kiev. It first occurs in a geographical treatise of the last quarter of the twelfth century preserved in AM 194, 8to and 736 I, 4to (cf. Melnikova 1986, 76–78). It is noteworthy that there is no Kænugarðr in runic inscriptions of the tenth and eleventh centuries, none in skaldic stanzas of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, nor in the early kings’ sagas.9 At the same time, the fact that the name Kænugarðr belongs to the toponymic family ending in -garðr—the Old Norse names for Novgorod, Kiev, and Constantinople— out of which Hólmgarðr, the first on “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks” used by Scandinavians as early as in the ninth century, was fixed in runic inscription of the first half of the eleventh century, and Miklagarðr, the last one, in a skaldic stanza by Bǫlverkr Arnórsson (between 1048 and 1066), as well as the intermediate position of Kiev between Novgorod and Constantinople on this route, indicates the appearance of 8 For details and literature see Svahnström 1960; Rybina 1986.
9 The only mention of this name in the kings’ sagas is in Eymundar þáttr of the late thirteenth century.
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the name not much later than that of Hólmgarðr. However, the temporal and thence spatial sequence of the emergence of Old Norse toponymy of Old Rus’ meant that the toponym Kænugarðr did not enter the tradition of the kings’ sagas, whereas Hólmgarðr, that had predated Kiev in its contacts with Scandinavians, became seen as the capital of Rus’ and the centre of all events taking place there. The prevalent opinion is that the prototype of Kænugarðr was *Kyjanov-gorod, the ballad variant of Kyev, going back to the widespread designation of Kiev used in oral speech and employed by the Russian epic songs. Its first element was a possessive form of the ethnic name Kyyane (nom. plur.) “the people of Kiev,” found in chronicles.10 Old Norse sources offer three variants of the first element of the compound: Kęnu/ Kænu-, Kiænu-, and Kœnu-. Different opinions have been expressed concerning their relationship, but each time one of the three existing forms of the toponym could not be explained quite convincingly. Only if we take Kænugarðr to be the original form is it possible, in view of the development of the Scandinavian vowel system, to explain the appearance of the other two forms. Kœnugarðr then becomes a result of the labial umlaut in front of a retained u that took place mostly at the turn of the ninth and tenth centuries mostly in West Scandinavian dialects. On the contrary, Kiænugarðr is likely to have originated from an u-breaking mostly typical for Eastern Scandinavia. In favour of the above assumption speaks, on the one hand, the presence of a designation of the inhabitants of Kiev only in the form of Kænir (in Gautreks saga) with the vowel æ and, on the other hand, the fact that the earliest occurrence of the toponym is a variant with the open e (ę and æ are graphic representations of the same sound, open e). As shown by the earlier analysis, all names of Old Russian towns in the Old Norse sources are a reproduction of the phonetic shape of local names accompanied by folk, or popular, etymology (a modification of a linguistic form according to a falsely assumed etymology) (Jackson, Molchanov 1990; cf. similar conclusions: Uspenskiy 2002, 292–93, 375). The transition of the first element of the original place-name into Kœnu- could have been a result of a certain association with the Old Norse word kœna “a boat of a special type,” and has been connected with the well known role of Kiev as a place where special boats built in different parts of the Dnieper region were supposed to assemble (as noted by Constantine Porphyrogenitus in his De administrando imperio 9). Still, I must stress that one cannot with certainty expect a strictly consistent development of the toponym. There is, of course, a possibility that all three variants are due to scribal attempts to render a local pronunciation by means of the Old Icelandic language as in the case of Suzdal’ (see below, p. 98). Maybe Stephan 10 For details and bibliographical references see Jackson 2001a, 64–68, Melin 2005. Incidentally, Elsa Melin has derived kønu from the Old Norse noun kinn (f.), going back to the Indo-European *genw-/genu- with the meanings “cheek” and “hillside,” and concluded that the name with this element was modelled after or translated the Slavonic toponym—Kiev—which she traces to the Slavonic *kij “hill.” Basing on this hypothesis, Fjodor Uspenskiy wittily argues that “the future capital was perceived by Slavs as the city of Kiy and by Scandinavians as the city of Shchek,” but he labels Melin’s phonetic reconstruction as “quite multistage and complex” and, so to speak, leaves all these phonetic transformations on her conscience (Uspenskiy 2008).
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Rozhnetskiy is right in assuming that “Kænugarðr and Kœnugarðr are equivalent and have arisen independently of one another” (Rozhnetskiy 1911, 50). We have seen that Hólmgarðr appears in Old Norse sources as the capital of Garðaríki (Rus’): here we find the courtyard of the king and the chamber of the princess, the chamber for the Varangians (Scandinavians) employed in service, the church dedicated to St. Óláfr, and a trading area. Almost all the events taking place in Rus’ are linked in the sagas with Hólmgarðr. Kænugarðr, on the contrary, occurs in later sagas and geographical treatises, which corresponds to the actual progress of Scandinavians in the East European Plain. In the next chapter I discuss what Scandinavian travellers knew about the first station on their way along “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks”—namely, Ladoga (Aldeigja/Aldeigjuborg).
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Chapter 8
ALDEIGJA/ALDEIGJUBORG (OLD LADOGA) THE ALDEIGJUBORG OF the sagas is considered to be a designation of Ladoga (Old Ladoga). The earliest source where this place-name occurs is Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by Oddr Snorrason (ca. 1190). However, the presence of Aldeigja in Bandadrápa by Eyjólfr dáðaskáld (ca. 1010) points to Aldeigja as the original form of this name. All in all, Aldeigja/Aldeigjuborg is mentioned about forty times in skaldic poetry and sagas (though it does not occur in runic inscriptions and geographical treatises). The compound Aldeigjuborg was formed with the help of a geographical term borg “town, fortification” that served in constructing town names in Western Europe, but was not typical for the names of Old Rus’ towns. The reason for this lies in the fact that Scandinavians moved along “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks” stage by stage, and Ladoga, located at the initial stage of this route, was, according to archaeological materials, opened up by them about a century earlier than the remaining part of this route. Scandinavians who settled in Ladoga and are likely to have constituted there “a relatively independent political organization” (Lebedev 1975, 41) created—on the local basis (which will be discussed below)—the name Aldeigja, and then changed it into Aldeigjuborg following the toponymic pattern X-borg that was familiar to them.
Ladoga and Aldeigja
Scholars are unanimous in recognizing the genetic relation of the place-names Aldeigja and Ладога (Ladoga); however, their origin and correlation have been interpreted in different ways. Eugene Helimski has labelled all attempts of deriving Aldeigja (together with Ladoga) from a Finno-Ugric source as fruitless and suggested his understanding of the problem: in his opinion, “the name can either directly result from the Old Norse /Old Germanic name giving, or (if we do not want to shift the chronology of Proto-Germanic presence in the Eastern Baltic area back into mid-2nd millennium bc) be an exact translation of the corresponding name from the same old Indo-European language the speakers of which witnessed the birth of Neva” (Helimski 2008). His reconstruction results in two lines of development: (1) Old Norse *Aldauga “the Old Open-Sea-Like-Source = Ladoga (lake)” > Old Norse *Aldaugja “connected with *Aldauga = Ladoga (town)” > Old Icelandic Aldeigja “Ladoga (town)”; and (2) Old Norse *Aldauga “the Old Open-Sea- Like-Source = Ladoga (lake)” > Old Norse *Aldaugja “connected with *Aldauga = Ladoga (town)” > (borrowing) Russ. Лáдога “Ladoga (town)” > Russ. Лáдога “Ladoga (lake)” > (borrowing) Finn. Laatokka “Ladoga (lake).” Still, the prevalent opinion today is that the name comes from the Baltic Finnic languages. The majority of scholars hold the position that the first to arise was a river name, then that of a town, and lastly, the name of a lake. Most likely, the original hydronym was Finnic *Alode-jogi (joki) “Low river” < alode, aloe “low lands” and jok(k)i “river,” a name of the river Ladoga (modern Ladozhka).1 1 For bibliographical references, see Jackson 2001a, 2003b.
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The likely development is from the Finnic river name *Alode-jogi to the Scandinavian name Aldeigja (first for the river, and then for the settlement), and only then (with a methathesis ald > lad) to the Old Russian Ladoga. A. I. Popov postulates the transition of the name from the town to the lake (Popov 1981, 55–56, 90–91). The origin of the Old Russian name Ладога not directly from the substrate *Alode-jogi, but via the intermediate Scandinavian Aldeigja, has nonetheless to be explained. In the 1980s, Gottfried Schramm could only put forward an assumption that, if the Slavic name had originated from the Scandinavian one, Slavs had to have reached Ladoga some decades later than Scandinavians (Schramm 1986, 369). Today we have plausible arguments in support of this supposition. As the analysis of archaeological materials from Ladoga has shown, the first settlers in Ladoga were in fact Scandinavians in 750s, while the first Slavs reached this region not earlier than in the 760s (Kuz’min 2000).
Ship-building Workshop
Going from Novgorod to Sweden, a medieval traveller would naturally sail along the Volkhov down to Old Ladoga, then into Lake Ladoga, and from there along the Neva into the Gulf of Finland. This is an obvious communication route, and that is why its details are seldom referred to in the sagas (see chapter 4). Still, Aldeigjuborg is sometimes mentioned as a transitional station, a kind of gateway, on the water route from Old Rus’ to Scandinavia and back. As we have seen above, travellers are said to make a halt there and change their ships. In her lecture at the Institute of Material Culture in April 1941, Elena Rydzevskaya put forward an assumption based on the sagas that the vessels sailing in the Baltic and in the Volkhov would have been of different types, and that, correspondingly, there would have been craftspeople in Ladoga occupied in ship repair and equipping ships. She also expressed hope that further archaeological excavations in Ladoga might bring to light some traces of local crafts, remains of workshops, etc. (Rydzevskaya 1945). And in fact, as early as in 1958, at stratum E1 which dates to 870s–890s, a complex was revealed connected with iron and bronze working that was thought to have been a smithy. A craftsman working there produced, among other things, rivets, most likely, to repair northern ships coming to Ladoga. Moreover, fragments of ships are found in Ladoga excavations from the earliest layers, as well as iron boat rivets of the type known from excavations in Scandinavia (Davidan 1986). Pirjo Uino is right in stressing (with reference to excavations of 1970s by Valeriy Petrenko in the Varyazhskaya Street in Ladoga) that “local boat-building and the repairing of cargo vessels are indicated by finds of boat and ship parts, which were secondarily used in the structures of the houses and the wooden streets” (Uino 1988, 217). Ship-building, or ship-repairing, was one of the functions of a Scandinavian manufacturing complex of the mid-eighth century revealed in 1973–1975 (Ryabinin 1980).
“Hann braut Aldeigjuborg”
Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar in Heimskringla tells of Jarl Eiríkr Hákonarson’s attack on Aldeigjuborg. According to a relative chronology of the saga, this enterprise of Jarl Eiríkr took place in approximately 997.
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Eiríkr jarl sigldi um haustit aptr til Svíþjóðar ok var þar vetr annan. En at vári bjó jarl her sinn ok sigldi síðan í Austrveg. En þá er hann kom í ríki Valdamars konungs, tók hann at herja ok drepa mannfólkit ok brenna allt þar, sem hann fór, ok eyddi landit. Hann kom til Aldeigjuborgar ok settisk þar um, þar til er hann vann staðinn, drap þar mart fólk, en braut ok brenndi borgina alla, ok síðan fór hann víða herskildi um Garðaríki. (Hkr 1941, 338–39)
(Jarl Eiríkr sailed in the autumn back to Svíþjóð and stayed there a second winter. And in the spring the jarl fitted out his army and after that sailed to the eastern Baltic. And when he came into the realm of King Valdamarr, he bagan to make raids and kill the people and burn everything wherever he went, and laid waste the land. He got to Aldeigjuborg and besieged it until he took the place, killing many people there, and destroyed and burned all the fortifications, and after that he travelled widely making raids over Garðaríki.) (Hkr 2011, 212)
Both Fagrskinna and Heimskringla refer in their narration of this event to Bandadrápa 6, composed by Eyjólfr dáðaskáld, the skald of Eiríkr jarl Hákonarson, ca. 1010, that is, two centuries earlier than the two compendia, and Snorri even quotes the following stanza: Oddhríðar fór eyða —óx hríð at þat—síðan logfágandi lœgis land Valdamars brandi. Aldeigju brauzt, œgir —oss numnask skil—gumna; sú varð hildr með hauldum hǫrð; komt austr í Garða.
(The custodian of the flame of the sea of the point-storm [(lit. “flame-custodian of the sea of the point-storm”) BATTLE > BLOOD > SWORD > WARRIOR] went afterwards to ravage Vladimir’s land with the sword; the onslaught intensified at that. You crushed Aldeigja, intimidator of men [RULER]; sound information is being brought to us [me]; that battle became hard amongst freeholders; you came eastwards into Garðar.) (Poole 2012a, 464)2
The author of Fagrskinna does not cite the corresponding strophe, but, like the skald, speaks about the destruction of Aldeigjuborg—“Hann braut Aldeigjuborg” (Fask 1985, 165)—while Snorri adds to it the burning down of the entire town. The latter supplement is thus likely to be Snorri’s own invention, though in fact wooden towns were destroyed in the Early Middle Ages through fires. In 1941, Elena Rydzevskaya had to stress in her lecture the absence of any archaeological traces of fire in the earthwork fortress area in Ladoga that could have been a result of Jarl Eiríkr’s assault of 997 (Rydzevskaya 1945, 55). By the 1980s, however, archaeologists had accumulated certain data that could back up Snorri’s narrative. Excavations in the Varyazhskaya Street (on the left bank of the river Ladozhka) revealed the fact that all constructions of the 2 With my emendations in translation: Aldeigja instead of Staraya Ladoga, and Garðar instead of Russia.
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second main layer (stratum II), as well as many constructions of the third one (stratum III, both dated dendrochronologically within the tenth century), bear marked traces of fire destruction (Petrenko 1985, 91, 92, 115). The same data have been obtained in the earthwork fortress area in Ladoga, where “a badly preserved level XI,” after 980, displays traces of “destruction in the fire” that could have been “the result of Jarl Eiríkr’s attack on Ladoga” (Machinskiy, Machinskaya, Kuz’min, 1986).3
“Aldeigjuborg ok þat jarlsríki, er þar fylgði”
Quite a number of Old Norse sources of the late twelfth and the first decades of the thirteenth century contain information on the marriage of King Jarizleifr, Russian prince Yaroslav the Wise, and Ingigerðr, the daughter of the Swedish king Óláfr Eiríksson. But only in Óláfs saga helga in Heimskringla is it told how Ingigerðr received on her demand as her bridal gift “Aldeigjuborg and the jarl’s dominion that belongs with it” (“Aldeigjuborg ok þat jarlsríki, er þar liggr til”) (Hkr 1945, 147; Hkr 2014, 95). The marriage of Yaroslav and Ingigerðr was concluded in 1019: this date is given by the Icelandic annals (IA 1888, 106, 316, 468); it can as well be reconstructed on the inner chronology of Heimskringla. The period from 1018 to the mid-1020s is marked by the intensification of Russian– Swedish and Russian–Danish ties caused by the desire of Yaroslav to create an anti-Polish coalition in the process of fighting for the Kiev table (Nazarenko 1984; Melnikova 1988, 47). The consequence of this policy was the matchmaking of Yaroslav to the daughter of King Óláfr of Sweden and his subsequent marriage to her. According to Snorri, when they all came to Garðaríki, Queen Ingigerðr gave Jarl Rǫgnvaldr Úlfsson, her kinsman who accompanied her, “Aldeigjuborg and the jarl’s dominion that belonged with it” (“Aldeigjuborg ok þat jarlsríki, er þar fylgði”) (Hkr 1945, 148; Hkr 2014, 95). The transfer of Ladoga to a noble Scandinavian in the early eleventh century is described only by Snorri and in Eymundar þáttr. Nevertheless, most scholars recognize the authenticity of the presence in Ladoga at the time of a Scandinavian ruler, although the character of his rule is estimated in different ways.4 Probably, the reason for such unanimity is that “saga data concerning Ladoga coincide with our chronicles in that there is no prince in this town and the adjacent territory, in contrast to Novgorod, Polotsk, and others” (Rydzevskaya 1945, 59). It is interesting how the situation is described in Fagrskinna: Jarizleifr konungr hafði jafnan haft með sér Norðmenn ok svenska menn, en þá var andaðr Rǫgnvaldr jarl Úlfssonr, en þat ríki hafði tekit Eilífr jarl. Hann hafði ok marga Norðmenn með sér ok gaf þeim mála. Sá jarldómr var veittr til þess, at jarlinn skyldi verja ríki konungs fyrir heiðnum mǫnnum. (Fask 1985, 227)
3 For the discussion of this relatively new, stratigraphic scale of Old Ladoga, based on dendrochronology, which includes eleven layers from mid-eighth through the tenth centuries, cf. Kuz’min 2000. 4 For details and bibliographical references, see Jackson 2001a, 110–12.
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(King Jarizleifr had always had Norwegian and Swedish men with him; at that time Jarl Rǫgnvaldr Úlfsson had died, and Jarl Eilífr had taken over his authority. He also had many Norwegians with him and paid them for their services. That jarldom was granted in order that the jarl should defend the king’s domain against heathens.) (Fask 2004, 182)
There is an opinion in scholarly literature that the saga story of King Jarizleifr’s wedding gift “is hardly reliable, since it contradicts data on property and legal status of society in Scandinavia and Old Rus’ in the early eleventh century” (Glazyrina 1994, with reference to Pushkareva 1989, 104–39). However, V. O. Kazanskiy, taking into account established norms of Swedish law, has demonstrated that “the information of sources concerning the fact that Aldeigjuborg (Ladoga) was received by Ingigerðr as a ‘supplementary gift’ (tilgjǫf) does not contradict data on property and legal status of society in Scandinavia and Old Rus’ and, therefore, can be recognized as credible.” In his opinion, “Aldeigjuborg (Ladoga), as a ‘wedding gift’ could from ca. 1019 to 1051 be a Russian–Swedish proprietorship” (Kazanskiy 2002). M. B. Sverdlov, in his turn, found data demonstrating that a woman in Old Rus’ had the right to own and dispose of property, including land, from the late twelfth century, and this enabled him to assert that the “gift of Ladoga and Ladoga volost’ made by Yaroslav to his bride Ingigerðr was a customary—for public relations and property relations in Old Rus’ of the tenth to twelfth centuries—princely grant to his wife.” The transfer of Ladoga and Ladoga volost’ to Jarl Rǫgnvaldr is estimated by him as one of the popular Rus’ examples of granting the prince’s men towns and their adjacent lands, and “as a manifestation of feudal relations that existed in this period in European countries” (Sverdlov 2003, 351–53). In the framework of this discussion, it makes sense to pay attention to one skaldic stanza, the authorship of which is attributed to King Óláfr Haraldsson. It is told in Óláfs saga helga in Flateyjarbók that Óláfr, during his stay with Prince Yaroslav the Wise, composed two skaldic stanzas addressed to the wife of Yaroslav, Ingigerðr (Flat 1862, 341). The stanza in question has such a difficult metaphorical language and a complex word order that scholars used to translate it with various emendations, which resulted in different understanding of its content. Here follows the translation made by Russell Poole: Ár stóð eik in dýra jarladóms með blómi harðla grœn, sem Hǫrðar hvert misseri vissu. Nú hefr bekkjar tré bliknat brátt Mardallar gráti (lind hefr) laufi bundit (línu jǫrð í Gǫrðum).
(Formerly {the precious oak of the jarldom} [WOMAN] stood intensely green with blossom, as the Hǫrðar knew each season. Now {the tree of the bench} [WOMAN], wreathed with foliage, has grown pale fast {with the weeping of Mardǫll } [GOLD]; {the linden-tree of the headdress} [WOMAN] has land in Garðar.) (Poole 2012b, 528)5
5 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia; cf. Poole 1985, 118.
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This reading contains an explicit indication that Ingigerðr owned land in Old Rus’. It is possible that the skald had in mind here Ladoga that had been received by the Swedish princess as a tilgjǫf (“supplementary gift”).
On the Control Functions of Ladoga Volost’
Almost from its foundation in the eighth century, Ladoga was a centre of the local administration, volost’, located along the rapids of the Volkhov. Settlements and road stations that were part of this volost’ controlled the lower Volkhov (about sixty kilometres long) and served international shipping (Kirpichnikov, Sarab’yanov 1996, 54). Sagas have preserved some indirect information concerning the control functions of Ladoga volost’. It can be found in the story, already mentioned here, about the trip to Rus’ of a group of noble Norwegians after Magnús Óláfsson. In the last chapter of Óláfs saga helga in Heimskringla we read that Einarr þambarskelfir and Kálfr Árnason with a large company of men travelled one summer to Garðaríki, arrived in the autumn at Aldeigjuborg, and “sent messengers (sendimenn) up to Hólmgarðr to see King Jarizleifr” with a message (með orðsendingum) describing the purpose of their trip. This message (orðsending) reached Jarizleifr, and after discussion of the matter with his leading people he decided to send a word (gera orð) to the Norwegians and thus summon them to his court (stefna þeim þannug). Snorri here specifies that “varu þeim grið seld til þeirar ferðar” (“they were given safe conduct for this journey”) (Hkr 1945, 414–15; Hkr 2014, 277). The three times used here term orð “word” (with a variant orðsending “message”) definitely indicates that the ambassadors carried oral information. For the designation of “peace” Snorri uses the term grið which differs from the synonymous friðr “peace” in that it expresses a concept that is limited in time and space: in our case it is a guaranteed safe passage from Ladoga to Novgorod. It is likely that the same is meant by Theodoricus monachus in a laconic account of the same events when he says that the Norwegians, having promised on oath to make Magnús king, got permission to depart (solvuntur abire) (Theodoricus 1880, 45). The story of Eymundar þáttr about a journey to Rus’ of Eymundr Hringsson and Ragnarr Agnarsson is interesting in this respect: Þeir Eymundr letta nu æigi fyrr sinne ferd en þeir koma austr j Holmgard til Jarizleifs konungs. […] ok er konungr spyrr kuomu þeirra þangat j land sendir hann menn (til) þeirra þess eyrendis at bioda þeim fridland ok a konungs fund til fridrar uæitzslu. ok þat þeckiazst þeir uel. (Flat 1862, 120)
(Without breaking their journey, Eymund and his men travelled to Novgorod in the east to King Jarisleif. […] As soon as the king heard of their arrival he sent messengers bearing an offer of safe conduct and an invitation to a lavish feast, which they accepted gladly.) (Eymundar saga 1989, 72)
Here the text contains a clear contradiction. The story begins with a stereotypical formula: “þeir léttu eigi fyrr ferð sinni en þeir kómu” (“they did not stop on their trip
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Aldeigja/Aldeigjuborg (Old Ladoga)
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(they did not interrupt their trip) until they arrived at”) (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 385), but three sentences later it turns out that they probably had to stop, because only after Yaroslav had learned of their arrival, he sent them “peace.” Instead of friðr “peace, personal security” here we encounter the term friðland “a ‘peace-land’ or friendly country” used “in the laws of old freebooters (víkingar), who made a compact not to plunder a country, on condition of having there a free asylum and free market” (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 173). It seems that, in spite of the stereotyped construction used, the text has reflected real features—namely, the impossibility for noble Scandinavians to freely get to Novgorod and their probable stopover in Ladoga. From the Russian sources, we know about this practice at the earliest in the twelfth century: under the year 1188, the First Novgorodian Chronicle reports that since “the men of Novgorod were plundered by the Varangians in Gothland […] in the spring they let no man of their own go beyond sea from Novgorod, and gave no envoy to the Varangians, but they sent them away without peace” (“рубоша новгородьце Варязи на Гътѣхъ […] а на весну не пустиша из Новагорода своихъ ни одиного мужа за море, ни съла въдаша Варягомъ, нъ пустиша я без мира”) (NPL 1950, 39; ChronNovg 1970, 34). The Varangians (Scandinavians) sent away from Novgorod, thus, had no guarantees of personal security: they did not have a “peace,” i.e., some sort of security document, and there either was no съл (“envoy”) with them, i.e., a person obliged to accompany foreigners within the Novgorod Land both on arrival and at departure. It is quite natural that the aforementioned chain of fortified settlements located along the Volkhov— Lyubsha, Novye Duboviki, Gorodishche, Kholopiy gorodok—served as control points, where it was necessary to produce “travel documents,” on the waterway from Ladoga to Novgorod. Ladoga in fact occupied a key position on this way leading from the Baltic to the interior of Old Rus’ and further to the East. A. N. Kirpichnikov believes that “trade and control functions of Ladoga region, quite evident in the period of Novgorod-Hanseatic ‘commerce,’ were inherited from a much earlier time” (Kirpichnikov 1979, 96). It is likely that in the sagas we find a confirmation of this thesis. We have seen that Ladoga, being the first East European station on the “route from the Varangians to the Greeks,” although mentioned only rarely in the sagas (since it was a natural part of the itinerary), is well known to saga authors. They mention that in Ladoga sea ships were changed for those suitable for river navigation, they tell about the burning down of Ladoga by Jarl Eiríkr in 997, they know that Ladoga was given by Yaroslav the Wise in 1019 to his wife Ingigerðr as a wedding gift, and they are aware of the control functions of Ladoga volost’. In the following chapter, we shall focus on the remaining nine town names of the twelve that are familiar to Old Norse sources.
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Chapter 9
“HǪFUÐ GARÐAR” IN HAUKSBÓK, AND SOME OTHER OLD RUSSIAN TOWNS IN THIS CHAPTER we shall deal with Pallteskia, Móramar, Rostofa, Súrdalar, and Smaleskia which can be certainly identified as Polotsk, Murom, Rostov, Suzdal’, and Smolensk, as well as with Sýrnes, Gaðar, Álaborg, and Danparstaðir that have various contradictory identifications. The most complete list of Old Russian towns in Old Norse literature is found in the Icelandic geographical treatise Hversu lǫnd liggja í verǫldinni (Hb 1892–96, 153–56) which an Icelander Haukr Erlendsson incorporated into his compilation of Old Icelandic texts, Hauksbók, written in 1302–1310 (see Sverrir Jakobsson 2007). However, the pages with this text are written not by Haukr himself, but by a Norwegian scribe (Hb 1892–96, xv). Elena Melnikova suggests that these pages had been written earlier and independently of Hauksbók and dates this treatise to the end of the thirteenth to the beginning of the fourteenth century (Melnikova 1986, 59–60), while the list of towns seems to be much older, and below I will argue that it might be dated to the last third of the tenth century. The list is as follows: “I þui riki er þat er Ruzcia heitir. þat kollum ver Garðariki. þar ero þessir hofuð garðar. Moramar. Rostofa. Surdalar. Holmgarðr. Syrnes. Gaðar. Palteskia. Kœnugarðr” (“In that state there is a part called Ruzcia, we call it Garðaríki. There are these capital towns: Móramar, Rostofa, Súrdalar, Hólmgarðr, Sýrnes, Gaðar, Palteskia, Kœnugarðr”) (Hb 1892–96, 155). The word combination hǫfuð garðar used in the text might be translated as “capital towns” only in the context of Old Rus’. In medieval Swedish sources the term huvud gård was used for the designation of “the main court” with the same meaning as that of curia and mansio of Swedish documents in Latin (see Svanidze 1984, 75). The toponyms Hólmgarðr and Kænugarðr have been discussed in previous chapters. Now we shall concentrate on all the rest, beginning with Pallteskja as a designation of an important station on the “route from the Varangians to the Greeks.”
Palteskia/Pallteskja (Polotsk)
Раllteskja occurs in eight sources from the last quarter of the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries: the previously discussed Kristni saga that mentions Þorvaldr Koðránsson who died “skamt frá Pallteskju” (“not far from Polotsk”), three geographical treatises, a Danish chronicle written in Latin, reckoned as a kings’ saga Eymundar þáttr, and two sagas of ancient times. One of the latter, Örvar-Odds saga, names the town—in a group of fifteenth-century manuscripts—Pallteskiuborg.1 1 For more information and literature, see Jackson 1991b.
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Eymundar þáttr describes “Pallteskja ok þat ríki allt er þar liggr til” (“Polotsk and all the region around”) (Flat 1862, 119–20; Eymundar saga 1989, 71) as one of the three large parts of Garðaríki. The author of the þáttr is inconsistent in his use of toponyms: he uses the names of towns (Kænugarðr, Hólmgarðr, Pallteskja), and not of lands (as a rule, plural forms of names of towns—their capitals—were used in Old Norse texts to designate the princedoms). But he labels Kænugarðr as ríki “state” (“princedom” in the Russian context), he says nothing about Hólmgarðr, while Pallteskja is definitely a town, which is indicated by a stereotype expression “ok þat ríki allt er þar liggr til” accompanying this place-name. What is important here, is the three-part division of Rus’ in the early eleventh century, the allocation of Polotsk Land as a unit within this division. It is inferior to Novgorod and Kiev Lands in its status, which can be seen from the division of lands by Ingigeðr, the wife of Jarizleifr, in the final part of the saga, where she gives Polotsk Land to a stranger: “en Pallteskiu ok þat riki er þar liggr til skal hafua Eymundr konungr ok vera þar konungr yfir” (“As for Polotsk and the lands belonging to it, they shall be given to King Eymund to rule over”) (Flat 1862, 133; Eymundar saga 1989, 88–89). Scholars consider the information of Eymundar þáttr concerning the assignment of Eymundr to Polotsk—his sworn brother Ragnarr staying after him—as fabulous, since, according to Russian chronicles, Bryachislav was a prince of Polotsk until his death in 1044 and was followed by his son Vseslav (1044–1101). What is essential is the status of Polotsk Land as it is reflected by the saga. It is quite obvious that this is not the picture of the time when the þáttr was written down: in the late twelfth century Polotsk was subordinate to Lithuania, while in the second quarter of the thirteenth century it became subordinate to Smolensk. But in the events of 1015–1021 the princes of Kiev, Novgorod, and Polotsk were, according to the chronicles, involved. Thus, most likely, Eymundar þáttr, recorded at the end of the thirteenth century, has reflected real experience of the participants of Eymundr’s campaign from the first quarter of the eleventh century. Moreover, the chronicles’ data concerning territorial claims of Bryachislav Izyaslavich and his son Vseslav enable us to think that already at the beginning of the eleventh century Polotsk principality was an independent political formation. The immediate consequence of political significance of Polotsk Land was the construction in Polotsk in 1050s of St. Sophia Cathedral, the third in Old Rus’ (after Kiev and Novgorod). An expert on Polotsk Sofia Valentin Bulkin concludes that the similarity of names of the three Russian churches and the Hagia Sophia in Constantinople “contained both the imitation of a revered model and a self-affirmation with a touch of rivalry. The internal political aspect of the ‘Sofia program’ expressed the idea of unity and agreement of the largest regional powers of the state under the auspices of Christianity” (Bulkin 1986, 27). While in Eymundar þáttr Polotsk Land is one of the three main parts of Old Rus’, in the three geographical treatises the picture is completely different. Here are mentioned only the largest towns that used to be at some period of time the capitals of principalities. The nature of information does not depend on the time when these treatises were written down. Obviously, there are traces of much earlier information. A detailed analysis of Icelandic geographical works has allowed Elena Melnikova to conclude that “this is a picture of Eastern Europe from the tenth to the early twelfth century, before the Mongol invasion, the formation of the Lithuanian state, the conquest of the Baltic lands
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“Hǫfuð garðar” in Hauksbók
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by the Crusaders” (Melnikova 1976b, 156). At the start of this chapter we quoted the list of eight hǫfuð garðar in Garðaríki in the treatise Hversu lǫnd liggja í verǫldinni coming from Hauksbók. Another treatise, entitled by Elena Melnikova Landalýsing I, of the last quarter of the twelfth century, names only four towns in Garðaríki, and along with Kiev, Novgorod, and Polotsk, we encounter now Smolensk: Eyropa heitir hinn þridi hlutr iardar, hann er i beggia ẻtt vestrs ok út-nordrs ok tekr i land-nordr. I austan-verdri Eyropa er Garda-riki, þar er Kẻnugardr ok Holmgardr, Pallteskia ok Smaleskia. (AÍ 1908, 10)
(The third part of the Earth is called Europe, it is located in two of the eight sections of the horizon, the western and north-western, and stretches to the northeast. In easternmost Europe is Garðaríki, there are Kænugarðr and Hólmgarðr, Pallteskia and Smaleskia.)
The same four towns—Kiev, Novgorod, Polotsk, Smolensk—are represented on the Ebstorf Map, created ca. 1300 in Lower Saxony, whose informants regarding Old Rus’ are believed to have been Hanseatic merchants. Obviously, those were the largest trade centres that Scandinavians often visited, but why were they mentioned in the Icelandic geographical treatise? Previously I tried to explain this by the foreign trade ties of these towns from the late twelfth century. However, such an explanation, apparently, is erroneous. Rather, the geographical treatise created between 1170 and 1190 reflects an earlier situation (but not the one that had developed by the end of the twelfth century)— namely, the birth of Smolensk in the eleventh century at a new place, and the emergence in the middle of this century of an independent princedom in Smolensk. Landalýsing III (late thirteenth or early fourteenth century) names only one town, and that is Pallteskja: J Europa er austaz Cithia, þat kollum uer Suiþiod hinu myclu. Þar predicadi Philippus postuli. Gardariki þar stendr Pallteskia, ok Kiænugardar, þar bygdi fyst Magogg sonr Japhets Noa sonar. (SRD 1773, 35)
(The easternmost country in Europe is Cithia, we call it Svíþjóð hin mikla. There preached Apostle Philip. Garðaríki, there is Pallteskja, and Kiænugarðar, there settled first Magog, the son of Japhet, the son of Noah.)
Contrasting Garðaríki and Kiænugarðar, i.e., Northern and Southern Rus’, the compiler of the treatise places Polotsk in Garðaríki, thereby indicating a connection of Polotsk to the Novgorod Land, which, in turn, can be a reflection of the historical situation which is much earlier than the time of the creation of this geographical description. Two sources, based on a different tradition, contain information concerning the impregnability of Polotsk. Saxo Grammaticus in his Gesta Danorum, 2.1.7 (early thirteenth century) describes the capture of Paltiska (Polotsk) by King Frothi, the son of Hading, with the help of a military trick like that of the Trojan horse, “since he believed
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it was invincible by force” (“quam viribus invictam ratus”) (Saxo 1979–80, 1:42; Saxo 1931, 38). The same trick is described by Saxo one more time (2.3.8). A similar plot is found in Haralds saga Sigurðarsonar where the king with his warriors penetrates into one of the towns in Sicily, pretending to be dead, as the town was “so strongly built that they could see no hope of being able to storm it” (“hon var ok svá sterkr, at þeir sá enga ván vera, at þeir fengi hana brotit”) (Hkr 2015, 48; Hkr 1951, 80). Similar stories can be found in a number of medieval sources. Adolf Stender-Petersen has shown that military tricks like those ascribed to Haraldr during the seizure of four towns in Sicily had been borrowed by Scandinavians from the ancient cultural heritage (Stender-Petersen 1934, 89). One could confine oneself to Stender-Petersen’s statement that it is an “itinerant folktale” going back to distant times and well known in the Viking Age. But it is much more important, I think, to understand why Saxo had linked up the story of this military trick (taking the town by deception) to Polotsk. Accordingly, it is worth paying attention to another Scandinavian source, not very typical within Old Norse literature— namely, Þíðreks saga af Bern written down ca. 1250 and based on the German heroic epic. There are two references to Polotsk in this saga, one of which is a detailed description of fortifications of the town: oc nu er Attila konungr með allan sinn hær firir þa borg er hæitir palteskia sa staðr er sua sterkligr at nu vita þæir varla hverso þæir fa þænna stað tækit. þar er sterkr stæinvæggr oc storir kastalar. diki bræið oc diup oc i staðinom var mikill hærr at væria þann stað. (Þíðreks saga 1905–11, 211)
(And now King Attila with all his army is in front of the town which is called Palteskia. The town is so fortified that they hardly know now how they can take this town. There is a strong stone wall and big towers. The ditches are wide and deep, and there was a large army in the town to defend it.)
Naturally, this is not a historically accurate description of the Polotsk fortifications: the discrepancy lies at least in the fact that up to the seventeenth century, according to eyewitnesses, the walls of the Upper Castle were made not of stone, but of wood,2 which is also supported by archaeological data. But the very fact that Polotsk is the only Old Russian town (of the twelve known to the sagas) whose fortifications are described here is very revealing. It is useless to hope to find in a saga—due to the requirements of the genre—reports concerning real fortifications of Polotsk. Its fortifications are described according to a certain stereotype, but for the Old Russian towns this description is unique. This allows us to think that there is an echo of real information about the fortification of Polotsk, and first of all about the topography of the Upper Castle. After all, even in the sixteenth century, Polotsk was perceived as “a city strongly fortified by nature itself,” and therefore the troops of Stefan Batory in 1579, according to Reinold 2 Sigismund von Herberstein (1486–1566) describes this place in the following way: “It is a fortress and a town at the river Polota; according to the local custom, everything is built of wood” (Herberstein 1988, 235).
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Heidenstein (1553–1620), found it difficult and dangerous to climb such a steep hill (Heidenstein 1889, 66). The upper Polotsk castle was situated on the main hill, in the corner at the confluence of the river Polota and the Western Dvina. The river Polota flows to the west and north of the Upper Castle, to the south the shore abruptly breaks off towards the Western Dvina. And to the north-east of the Upper Castle, in the Velikiy posad, were found fragments of a stone foundation of the posad wall dating to the eleventh or twelfth century, which allows us to think that in the twelfth century there was a wall in Polotsk that enclosed the city on the only naturally unprotected side (Tarasov 1988, 20). So, the information of Þíðreks saga might be not so historically unreliable. The combined data of the saga and of Saxo Grammaticus make it possible to speak of an impression of inaccessibility that Polotsk produced on Scandinavians approaching it along the Western Dvina.
Móramar, Rostofa, Súrdalar (Murom, Rostov, Suzdal’)
In M. B. Sverdlov’s opinion, “the presence on this list of the ‘elder’ towns of Rostov– Suzdal’ Land (Rostov, Suzdal’, Murom) and the absence of the ‘junior’ towns (Pereyaslavl’ Zalesskiy, Vladimir) whose political and economic significance in the twelfth century were no less than that of the ‘elder’ towns, and perhaps greater, allows us to date the list to the eleventh century” (Sverdlov 1973, 52). It seems to me that the argumentum ex silentio can hardly be applied to information from sagas on Old Russian towns, since only twelve of them occur in these sources. Omeljan Pritsak, paying attention to the first three towns on the list—Murom, Rostov, and Suzdal’—asserts that this is undoubtedly a list of those Rus’ towns “that lay on the Volga route […] between the ninth and tenth centuries (before the emergence of the Dnieper route).” He believes that Murom was rightly named before Rostov and Suzdal’ because “it did not play a major role after that time” (Pritsak 1981, 537). Archaeological data, however, demonstrate that Murom, Rostov and Suzdal’ might be interpreted as Old Russian towns only beginning with the second half of the tenth century. The presence of some other town names on this list makes one think that the list of Old Russian towns preserved in Hauksbók could arise and reach Scandinavia only in the period from the second third of the tenth to the early eleventh century (see below, pp. 100–2). It is to the second half of the tenth century that a significant number of Scandinavian finds in North-Eastern Rus’ can be dated. These are Scandinavian ornaments in Vladimir burial mounds of the second quarter of the tenth and early eleventh century, Scandinavian finds in the Murom area dating to the second half of the tenth century, and the main part of Scandinavian objects from Sarskoe gorodishche (not far from Rostov) attributed to the tenth and early eleventh centuries (Leont’yev 2012; Makarov 2012a). The same three towns are also named in a list of principalities (ríki) in Garðaríki that occurs in a group of late (fifteenth-century) manuscripts of Örvar-Odds saga, a fornaldar saga written down between 1265 and 1275 (Vries 1967, 483, 487). Rydzevskaya argued, moreover, that fragments dealing with Old Rus’ in this saga “are, most obviously, insertions in which late adventure romanticism and learned fabrication are combined in a very specific way” (Rydzevskaya 1930s, 190).
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Garðaríki er svá mikit land, at þat var þá margra konunga ríki: Marró hét konungr, hann réð fyrir Móramar, þat land er í Garðaríki; Ráðstafr hét konungr, Ráðstofa heitir þar, er hann réð fyrir; Eddval hét konungr. Hann réð fyrir því ríki, er Súrsdal heitir; Hólmgeirr hét sá konungr, er næst Kvillanus réð fyrir Hólmgarði; Paltes hét konungr, hann réð fyrir Palteskjuborg; Kænmarr hét konungr, hann réð fyrir Kænugörðum, en þar byggði fyrst Magok, sonr Japhets Nóasonar. Þessir konungar allir, sem nú eru nefndir, váru skattgildir undir Kvillanus konung. (Örvar-Odds saga 1954, 333–34)
(Garðaríki is such a big country that there were many kingdoms: Marró was the name of a king, he ruled over Móramar, that land is in Garðaríki; Ráðstafr was the name of a king, Ráðstofa is called where he ruled over; Eddval was the name of a king. He ruled over that kingdom, which is called Súrsdalr; Hólmgeirr was the name of that king who after Kvillanus ruled over Hólmgarðr; Paltes was the name of a king, he ruled over Palteskjuborg; Kænmarr was the name of a king, he ruled over Kænugarðar, and there Magoh, the son of Japheth, the son of Noah, was the first to preach. All these kings, that are now named, were tributaries of King Kvillanus.)
It is likely that the author of this saga had been acquainted with the previously quoted geographical treatise Hversu lǫnd liggja í verǫldinni, or its source, and used it in the process of writing this passage. Out of the three town names under discussion here, only Móramar is given uniformly, while Rostofa (< Ростовъ) has undergone folk-etymological reinterpretation and was transformed by the author of the saga into Ráðstofa “town hall,” and Suzdal’ is not identical between the geographical treatise and the saga. In the former, in the enumeration of towns, the plural form Súrdalar is used, and in the latter, in the enumeration of principalities (ríki), the singular form Súrsdalr stands. This contradicts my conclusion that in plural forms of names of Old Russian towns you see the names not of towns, but of principalities, of which they were the capitals. However, it is quite obvious that the authors of the Old Norse texts were not absolutely consistent in using the toponymy of Old Rus’. A common source of these two texts was to contain a singular form for the city of Suzdal’ (since the name of the Suzdal’ Land as a state formation could have appeared only after its allocation to a separate principality, no earlier than the 1130s). The author of the geographical treatise, either accidentally or on the grounds of acquaintance with later toponymy, distorted it, but the author of the saga copied it without changes (in his context, erroneously). Suzdal’ occurs only six times in geographical treatises and sagas.3 As can be seen from the texts, there was no single option in Old Norse literature for the reproduction of the local name Суздаль (Suzdal’); we find Suðrdalaríki/Syðridalaríki, Súrdalar, Súrsdalr, Syrgisdalar, and Surtsdalar, all being attempts to convey the local pronunciation with the help of Scandinavian roots: suðr/syðri (southern/more southern), súrr (sour), syrgja (to sorrow), Surtr (a fire giant from Múspell). The second component in all cases is dalr 3 For more information and literature, see Jackson 1985.
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(valley), both singular and plural. The form of the toponym used in the text allows in a number of cases to conclude that the town of Suzdal’ is not meant, but the Suzdal’ Land. In any case, Scandinavian sources do not contain any descriptions of the town of Suzdal’: what we see here is typical for these sources’ “point-like” mention of non- Scandinavian toponymy. Twice Suzdal’ is mentioned in Hákonar saga Hákonarsonar, written in 1264–1265 on the order of Hákon’s son Magnús. Its author Sturla Þórðarson, writing about the events of 1204–1263, had at his disposal rich and well-organized archival materials of the royal chancery, as well as eyewitness accounts dealing with King Hákon. The information concerning Old Rus’ and the northern regions of Eastern Europe is quite random, though. Nevertheless, due to the fact that the events described in the saga are separated by a small time-gap from the moment of their recording, the information contained here deserves our attention. One mention of Suzdal’ is connected with Andrey Yaroslavich, the brother of the famous Russian prince Alexander Nevskiy. When listing the “noble men” in the army of King Hákon’s enemy, the Swedish Jarl Birger, the saga author says: “Þar var ok med jarlli Andres kongr af Sursdolum, brodir Alexandrs kongs af Holmgardi. Hann hafdi flyit austan fyrir Totturum” (“There was also, together with the jarl, Andres, King of Súrdölum, brother of King Alexander of Hólmgarðr. He had fled from the east, from the Tatars”) (HákHák 1910–87, 636). Russian chronicles state that in 1249 Andrey and his brother Alexander returned from the Golden Horde where Andrey had been recognized as the great prince of Vladimir. In 1252 Alexander went to Saray, and Batu recognized him as the great prince, while Andrey fled from the army of Nevruy over the sea to Sweden. In 1256, reconciling Andrey, who returned from Sweden, with the khan, Alexander gave him Suzdal’. So, from the Russian sources it follows that Andrey was the prince of Suzdal’ from 1256 until his death in 1264 or 1265. There is also a suggestion that he had held the Suzdal’ table from 1246 to 1248. He fled to Sweden after he had been the great prince of Vladimir for three years (from 1249 to 1252). The saga, however, names him “Andrés, konungr af Súrdölum.” How could the name of the Russian prince, who was in the army of the Swedish jarl, get into the saga written by a noble Icelander in Norway on the basis of archival materials and eyewitness recollections? Why does the saga call Andrey the prince of Suzdal’? There may be several answers. The phrase “konungr af Súrdölum” could have been preserved in memory or in a written record from the time of Andrey’s stay in Sweden where he could have been called with this title for two reasons: either, being the great prince, Andrey continued being called after his appanage (if he owned it in 1246–1248), or he received Suzdal’ in 1252 when Alexander became the great prince of Vladimir. In addition, it is likely that the information about North-Eastern Rus’ reached Norway via Novgorod. After all, the First Novgorodian Chronicle reports that “at this time also Nevrui came against the land of Suzdal’, against Knyaz Andrei; and Knyaz Andrei Yaroslavich fled beyond sea to the land of the Svei, and they killed him” (“Тогды же прииде Неврюи на Суздалкую землю, на князя Андрѣя; и бѣжа князь Андрѣи Ярослаличь за море въ Свиискую землю, и убиша и”) (NPL 1950, 304; ChronNovg 1970, 93, s.a. 1251).
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The second mention of Suzdal’ is in the story of a certain Øgmundr from Spánheimr, who first sailed in a group of Norwegian merchants to the White Sea region (Bjarmaland), then travelled with his men from Bjarmaland to the Suzdal’ Land (“austr í Suðrdalaríki”) where he spent the winter, and in the spring, after having received the news of his companions wintering in Bjarmaland that they had been killed by the Bjarms, travelled to the Novgorod Land (“austr í Hólmgarða”), etc. (HákHák 1910–87, 371; HákHák 1894, 73). Thus, Hákonar saga reflects that the Scandinavians knew a route from the White Sea region to the central Russian lands. Since Øgmundr learned about the misfortune of his companions while he was in Suzdal’, scholars conclude that the Russian authorities in the White Sea region knew about the arrivals of Norwegians to their lands, about their contacts with the native population, and passed this information to the central regions of Rus’. From this one may conclude that trips of this kind were numerous. A hint at a certain connection between Bjarmaland and the Suzdal’ Land can also be found in the semi-legendary Hauks þáttr Hábrókar.
Sýrnes, Gaðar (Gnezdovo?), and Smaleskia (Smolensk)
Two names from the list of towns in Hauksbók (see above, p. 93)—Sýrnes and Gaðar— are hapax legomena, as they occur in no other source.4 It is significant that they are also missing in the list of principalities (ríki) in Garðaríki in Örvar-Odds saga (see above, p. 98), based on the list in Hauksbók. Probably, for the author of the last third of the thirteenth century, Sýrnes and Gaðar were no less a mystery than for historians of the last two centuries. The identification of Sýrnes with Chernigov and Gaðar with Gorodets that is found in scholarly literature does not seem convincing, because it is in contradiction with the internal logic of this geographical treatise. Its author starts every time with the eastern part of the described region, then moves to the north of the western part and, finally, to the south of the western part. This is the order in the description of countries in the “thirds of the earth,” and even these “thirds” (as in T–O maps) are the eastern half of kringla heimsins (the circle of the earth) and two parts of its western half, the northern and southern ones. We see the same order in listing towns in Garðaríki: the “eastern” group consists of Murom, Rostov, and Suzdal’, the “northwestern” of Novgorod, Sýrnes, Gaðar, and Polotsk, and the “southwestern” group includes Kiev. The fact that Sýrnes and Gaðar are placed by the author of the treatise between Novgorod and Polotsk speaks of the existence of a territorial connection between them. This indication should not be taken literally, and one should not look for Sýrnes and Gaðar immediately between the named towns; however, the existence of communication routes between them should be taken into account. In this case, the most logical area for our “search” would be the Dnieper–Dvina interfluve, since it brought together various trade routes linking the countries of Eastern, Northern, and Western Europe with Byzantium and the East, and accordingly, this area was well known to Scandinavians. It was here that the intersection of trade and military–political highways, passing through Novgorod and through Polotsk, was located. The earliest separate finds of Scandinavian origin and 4 For more information and literature, see Jackson 1986b.
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archaeological complexes found here date back to the ninth century. The most likely way of progressing for the Normans, marked by a number of finds, was the Western Dvina, with access to the Dnieper via the river Kasplya (Bulkin 1977). Old Norse sources, in their turn, describe in detail, as we have seen above,—out of the three known routes to Rus’—only the Western Dvina–Dnieper road (see chapter 4). With such acquaintance of Old Norse sources with this way, the absence of Smolensk from the list of Old Russian towns known to the geographical treatise Landalýsing I (“þar er Kẻnugardr ok Holmgardr, Pallteskia ok Smaleskia”) (see above, p. 95) becomes even more obvious. And if in Landalýsing I Smolensk is named along with Novgorod, Polotsk, and Kiev (the towns of the “eastern” group not being mentioned), in the list of Hauksbók its place is definitely occupied by Sýrnes and Gaðar. Among archaeological monuments of the ninth to eleventh centuries in the Dnieper–Dvina interfluve area, only one—in terms of its qualitative characteristics, geographical location at the nodal point of East European river routes and its place in the system of early town centres—may be of real interest for us. That is the Gnezdovo archaeological complex located in the upper reaches of the Dnieper (twelve kilometres from Smolensk) that used to be a multi-ethnic settlement (including, along with the Slavic and Baltic, a Scandinavian ethnic component), an early or proto-town centre, that experienced its heyday in the tenth century. It has been repeatedly noted in scholarly literature that the Russian chronicles do not know Gnezdovo, and this was explained by the unfamiliarity of chroniclers with Smolensk Land up to 1015, and also by chronicles referring to Gnezdovo as Smolensk. The fact that Gnezdovo is located near Smolensk, on whose territory there are no strata before the eleventh century, gave rise to a discussion concerning the original location of the town. I presume those scholars are right who consider Gnezdovo as a chronological and functional predecessor of Smolensk of the Russian chronicles, and the information of the written sources about Smolensk of the ninth and tenth centuries as related to the settlement that existed at that time in the vicinity of Gnezdovo. This understanding of the relationship between Gnezdovo and Smolensk enables us to pose the question of the former name of the settlement that we call now Gnezdovo. It was noted long ago that a significant part of Old Russian towns located near the mouths of small rivers received their names from these tributaries (Ladoga < river Ladozhka, modern Ladoga; Pskov < river Pskova; Vitebsk < river Vit’ba, Polotsk < river Polota, etc.). By analogy with these towns, it is possible to assume with sufficient probability that the Gnezdovo complex bore the name formed from the right tributary of the Dnieper, a small river Svinets, at the confluence of which was situated the Central Gnezdovo setlement. The name of the “elder Smolensk” could in this case have been formed with the help of a very productive formant -ьskъ, most typical for Northern Rus’, used to form secondary toponyms (in particular, from hydronyms: Buzhsk < Bug; Pinsk < Pina, etc.) (Rospond 1972, 20–24), and have, correspondingly, the form of *Svinechesk, *Svinechsk. This very name could most naturally have been transformed into the Old Norse Sýrnes, since all the names of the Old Russian towns in Old Norse sources are—as discussed above—nothing else but a reproduction of the sounding of corresponding local toponyms accompanied by a folk-etymological interpretation of their roots. Sýrnes means a “swine-ness.” Thus, transcribing of a local name accompanied
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by folk-etymological transformation could in this case go hand in hand with calquing of the first root, which could easily have occured in the polyethnic milieu of the “elder Smolensk.” Transformation of the second part of the toponym into nes (a ness) was also quite natural, since the Gnezdovo site was located on the promontory of the left bank of the river Svinets. The etymology of the second mysterious toponym of Hauksbók— Gaðar—is not clear. Neither was it clear to the scribes of the seventeenth century, as in one paper copy in the margins and in the other one directly in the text, Gaðar is replaced by the already familiar to us Garðar. One-time mention of toponyms precludes the possibility of definitive conclusions. Nevertheless, it seems quite permissible to consider a couple of words Sýrnes Gaðar as a designation of a fortified settlement on the promontory of the river Svinets (more correctly5 it would be Sýrnes garðr). Archaeologists have found that the construction of the original fortification on the territory of the Central Gnezdovo settlement took place not later than the second third of the tenth century; the tenth century was the period of Gnezdovo’s heyday (Pushkina, Murasheva, Eniosova 2012), at the turn and in the first half of the eleventh century the settlement at the mouth of the river Svinets fell into decay; in the second half or at the end of the eleventh century the town was reborn on the site of the present Smolensk (Bulkin, Dubov, Lebedev 1978, 39–40). All this allows us to conclude that the news of Gnezdovo as a fortified centre (garðr) in the upper reaches of the Dnieper could have arisen and reached Scandinavia only during the active functioning of the fortified settlement on the Svinets, that is, from the second third of the tenth to the beginning of the eleventh century, but not earlier and not later. Applying the present conclusion to the solution of the question concerning the date of the list of Old Russian towns in Hauksbók allows, it seems, to define it as the last third of the tenth century.
Álaborg
This toponym occurs in two sagas of ancient times written down not earlier than the middle of the fourteenth century: in Hálfdanar saga Eysteinssonar (in the form of Álaborg) (Hálfdanar saga 1954, 249, 251, 255, 260, 267, 281, 282) and in Göngu-Hrólfs saga (in the form of Áluborg) (Göngu-Hrólfs saga 1954, 173, 243). I tend to share the opinion of Gottfried Schramm who regards Álaborg as the original form (Schramm 1982, 280–82). Various localizations of the Álaborg of Hálfdanar saga Eysteinssonar have been proposed. Scholars claimed that Álaborg is somewhere in Rus’, in the north of the Novgorod Land, to the north or east of Ladoga, in Beloozero, on the Onega Lake, in the Olonets area, and beyond. Decisive in determining the location of Álaborg is its geographical location relative to Aldeigjuborg (Ladoga), four times indicated in the saga. Two times Álaborg is placed “in the north,” and twice the direction of movement to it from Aldeigjuborg is indicated: one time “to the north” (followed by a battle on water), and one “to the east” 5 Carl Rafn pointed to the likelihood of changes in these two words as a result of scribal errors (AR 1852, 2:438).
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(followed by a battle on land). There is no contradiction here, as the direction “to the north” defined along the waterway, naturally refers to the initial segment of this road. It follows from the saga that the route “to the east,” passing overland from Aldeiguborg to the fortified Álaborg, is considerably shorter than the one by water. In addition, the saga text makes it clear that Álaborg is subordinate to Aldeigjuborg, which is apparently determined by its geographical position. So, Álaborg should correspond to a strategically important fortified settlement geographically and politically associated with Aldeigjuborg, located (on land) to the east of it and, at the same time, connected with it by a longer waterway directed at the initial segment to the north of Ladoga. Olonets, identified by G. V. Glazyrina with Álaborg (Glazyrina 1996, 100), does not match this series of conditions, as it ignores the saga indication of a land route east of Ladoga. The route by land north from Ladoga to Olonets is extremely inconvenient, equal in distance to the water one, and exceeds it in time. In the area of Olonets there is not a single settlement from the Old Russian period. Olonets is located away from the main trade and military routes. This area lies on the periphery of the Ladoga barrow culture of the late ninth to the early twelfth centuries, the burial mounds belonging to which start appearing in the vicinity of Olonets only in the middle of the tenth century. Beloozero, identified with Álaborg by Boris Kleiber and Gottfried Schramm (Kleiber 1957; Schramm 1982), also does not meet the necessary conditions. There was no uninterrupted waterway leading there, and the actual waterway from Ladoga to Beloozero passed through three rough lakes, through rapids and a portage, and amounted to about 420 kilometres. The overland route from Ladoga to Beloozero is long and difficult to pass: it would run through the virgin forests of the Vepsovskaya Upland and would be 320 kilometres in a straight line. Beloozero was neither geographically, nor economically, nor politically connected with Ladoga and the Volkhov region, being part of Rostov (later Vladimir–Suzdal’) Land, but not Novgorod Land. What does correspond to all the parameters of Álaborg identified above, is an old nameless settlement of the ninth to tenth centuries on the river Syas’, near the place called today Gorodishche and located forty-six kilometres directly southeast of Ladoga but separated from it by swampy forests. The overland way to it from Ladoga (judging by the location of modern roads) was to go first eastwards and then along the eastern shore of Syas’ to the southeast. The waterway to the town ran first northwards along the Volkhov, then to the northeast along the lake, further to the southeast along the Syas’ and was over eighty kilometres. For marine ships from the side of the lake the town was difficult to access because of numerous rapids on the river Syas’. Judging by ceramics, life at the settlement near Gorodishche ceased not later than the 930s. This settlement definitely belongs to the cultural zone of the Volkhov-Syas’ mounds, just as Ladoga, and this is the only fortified settlement in all this territory from the eighth to the thirteenth centuries. The road from Lake Ladoga along the Syas’—with a further outlet through its sources Volozhba or Tikhvinka into the Volga basin—was the shortest waterway from the Baltic to the Volga region. No name for a strategically important town at the Syas’ is recorded either in Russian or in Western written sources. In general, on the balance of characteristics, it seems highly probable that the nameless settlement on the river Syas’ is Álaborg. It is possible that its Scandinavian name is associated with the name
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of a small river, Valya, a tributary of the Syas’ not far from the Gorodishche (Jackson, Machinskiy 1989).
Danparstaðir
Danparstaðir is mentioned in two of the Eddic poems—Atlamál hin grœnlenzku and Hlöðskviða—and in a saga of ancient times Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks from which the latter poem is extracted (Hervarar saga 1954, 52, 56). This saga was written down in the thirteenth century, has been preserved in manuscripts of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, but in some of its parts goes back to Germanic heroic poetry. Those scholars who translated Danparstaðir as a “Dnieper town” identified it with Kiev. But, already in 1887 R. Heinzel showed that in toponyms formed on the X-staðir pattern the first part, as a rule, was a personal, but not a river, name (Heinzel 1887). Moreover, the Dnieper is known in Old Norse texts as Nepr. Thus, the interpretation of the toponym Danparstaðir as a “Dnieper town” and, accordingly, its identification with Kiev, is called into question. However, Ursula Dronke assumes that Danpr might have served in heroic poetry as a designation of the territory of the settlement of Goths localized here by the sixth-century historian Jordanes (Poetic Edda 1969, 51): the Old Norse form Danpr corresponds with the Danaper of Jordanes (Iordanis 1882, nos. 30, 35, 44, 46, 269). Similarly, Gottfried Schramm treats the name Danpr as a name of the Dnieper going back to Gothic tradition, and translates the expression á stöðum Danpar as “on the Dnieper banks.” He does not attempt to link this toponym with the name of Kiev, although he believes that the hydronym had been in use in the Middle Dnieper region (Schramm 1973. 4.17; 8.7; 13.14). We can see from chapters 6 to 9 that the number of Old Russian towns mentioned in Old Norse sources is minimal. This is particularly true if we compare it to the number of Scandinavian, or English,6 town names in the sagas, as well as to the more than four hundred Old Russian towns of the ninth through the thirteenth centuries that we know from Russian chronicles and archaeological excavations.7 This data, however, can by no means suggest poor acquaintance of Scandinavians with Old Rus’, as the materials excavated by archaeologists prove just the opposite (Kirpichnikov et al. 1980). They should be considered as a reflection of the specific character of Old Norse literature. As a rule, the authors were not interested in the geography of the neighbouring lands, and even connected events outside Scandinavia with a certain set of traditional, conventional regions and places—those frequented by Scandinavian Vikings (what is also proved by archaeological finds)—and for the description of Old Russian towns used a 6 In Snorri’s Heimskringla alone, eleven English towns are named: London, York, Grimsby, Southwork, Canterbury, Winchester, Skarboro, Hastings, Stamford Bridge, Witby, and Castlebridge.
7 According to M. N. Tikhomirov, there were 271 towns in Old Rus’ (Tikhomirov 1956, 42), but, as archaeologists demonstrate, 143 towns more might be dated to the same period of time, although they were mentioned by the Russian chronicles under the thirteenth through the fifteenth centuries (Kuza 1983, 4–5).
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stereotyped formula common for the towns of Scandinavia, Rus’, and Western Europe. Notwithstanding, these data serve as undoubted evidence of an immediate and long- time acquaintance of Scandinavians with the main routes of Eastern Europe and the centres located on them. Now we shall proceed to the territories in the north of Eastern Europe, around the White Sea, named Bjarmaland. According to the sources, this land was very rich in furs, and attracted both Norwegians and Russians, as it could be reached from both sides.
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Chapter 10
BJARMALAND THIS CHAPTER PROVIDES a brief survey of all available sources where Beormas/ Bjarmar and Biarmia/Bjarmaland occur; firstly, to show that different groups of Old Norse sources had different ethno-geographical nomenclature; secondly, to explain how and why the meaning of the place-name Bjarmaland changed; and finally, to describe the position of Bjarmaland between Norway and Old Rus’. Bjarmaland, a mysterious land in the north of Europe, is mentioned in a number of Old Norse sources (cf. Tiander 1906). But before data concerning this land were put in writing by medieval Icelanders, the Anglo-Saxon king Alfred, in the late ninth century, added to his translation of the Historiae adversum Paganos by Paulus Orosius a record of a report of a certain traveller Ohthere, who had reached a land named Biarmia from the place of his habitation in the north of Norway, in Hålogaland. Ohthere’s story is of vital importance within the context of Biarmia/Bjarmaland studies, as an account of his voyage gives a detailed description of the northbound route from Hålogaland to the land of the Beormas. Ohthere sæde his hlaforde, Ælfrede cyninge, þæt he ealra Norðmonna norþmest bude. He cwæð þæt he bude on þæm lande norþweardum wiþ þa Westsæ. He sæde þeah þæt land sie swiþe lang norþ þonan, ac hit is eal weste, buton on feawum stowum styccemælum wiciað Finnas, on huntoðe on wintra & on sumera on fiscaþe be þære sæ. He sæde þæt he æt sumum cirre wolde fandian hu longe þæt land norþryhte læge, oþþe hwæðer ænig mon be norðan ðæm westenne bude. Þa for he norþryhte be þæm lande; let him ealne weg þæt weste land on ðæt steorbord þrie dagas. Þa wæs he swa feor norþ swa þa hwælhuntan firrest faraþ. Þa for he þa giet norþryhte swa feor swa he meahte on þæm oþrum þrim dagum gesiglan. Þa beag þæt land eastryhte, oþþe seo sæ in on ðæt lond, he nysse hwæðer, buton he wisse ðæt he ðær bad westanwindes & hwon norþan & siglde ða east be lande swa swa he meahte on feower dagum gesiglan. Þa sceolde he ðær bidan ryhtnorþanwindes, for ðæm þæt landbeag þær suþryhte, oþþe seo sæ in on ðæt land, he nysse hwæðer. Þa siglde he þonan suðryhte be lande swa swa he mehte on fif dagum gesiglan. Ða læg þær an micel ea up in on þæt land. Þa cirdon hie up in on ða ea, for þæm hie ne dorston forþ bi þære ea siglan for unfriþe, for þæm ðæt land wæs eall gebun on oþre healfe þære eas. Ne mette he ær nan gebun land siþþan he from his agnum ham for, ac him wæs ealne weg weste land on þæt steorbord, butan fiscerum & fugelerum & huntum & þæt wæron eall Finnas & him wæs a widsæ on ðæt bæcbord. Þa Beormas hæfdon swiþe wel gebud hira land, ac hie ne dorston þæron cuman. (Two Voyagers 1984, 18–20)
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(Ohthere told his lord, King Alfred, that he lived the furthest north of all Norwegians. He said that he lived in the north of Norway on the coast of the Atlantic. He also said that the land extends very far north beyond that point, but it is all uninhabited, except for a few places here and there where the Finnas have their camps, hunting in winter, and in summer fishing in the sea. He told how he once wished to find out how far the land extended due north, or whether anyone lived to the north of the unpopulated area. He went due north along the coast, keeping the uninhabited land to starboard and the open sea to port continuously for three days. He was then as far north as the whale hunters go at their furthest. He then continued due north as far as he could reach in the second three days. There the land turned due east, or the sea penetrated the land he did not know which—but he knew that he waited there for a west-north-west wind, and then sailed east along the coast as far as he could sail in four days. There he had to wait for a due northern wind, because there the land turned due south, or the sea penetrated the land he did not know which. Then from there he sailed due south along the coast as far as he could sail in five days. A great river went up into the land there. They turned up into the river, not daring to sail beyond it without permission, since the land on the far side of the river was fully settled. He had not previously come across any settled district since he left his own home, but had, the whole way, land to starboard that was uninhabited apart from fishers and bird-catchers and hunters, and they were all Finnas. To port he always had the open sea. The Beormas had extensive settlements in their country but the Norwegians did not dare to venture there.)
To my mind, it is quite evident from this story that the land of the Beormas was situated on the southern coast of the Kola Peninsula, west from the lower Strelna or the lower Varzuga (cf. Jackson 1992). In the study by Anton Englert the conclusion is similar: “From a nautical and geographical point of view, the Varzuga river is the more likely end point of Ohthere’s northern voyage” (Englert 2007, 128). However, as Nikolaj Makarov reports in the same volume as Englert, “Ohthere’s voyage took place in a period marked by minimal activity on the part of the medieval communities in the White Sea region and Kola Peninsula” (Makarov 2007, 149). Makarov points to the lack of archaeological evidence of Early Viking Age permanent settlements in the region, and thus the positive outcome of his paper is that he arrives at a commonplace conclusion that “we may exclude from the territory under investigation the southern and eastern portions of the White Sea basin and the Northern Dvina estuary” (Makarov 2007, 149).1 He suggests that we should “limit our search to the Varangerfjord and the Kola Peninsula” (Makarov 2007, 149), the first region having traces of Ohthere-era habitation (Mortensnes burial site), but, according to Englert, having no “great river” and less answering to the description of the route, and the second one having sites dating back to the eleventh through the 1 The latter statement is meant to contrast with his erroneous allegation at the beginning of the article that “the arguments placing Biarmland [sic] on the Kola Peninsula, on the eastern shores of the White Sea, and in the Dvina basin, are usually considered the most well grounded” (Makarov 2007, 140).
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thirteenth centuries at the earliest, but, again according to Englert, better corresponding to Ohthere’s account of his northern voyage. As one can see, archaeology is of little help in understanding the written source, the reason for this probably lying in the fact that the literal reading of the text leads to putting deficient questions to this text and searching, for instance, for a “fully settled” land in the end point of the sea voyage described here. I doubt that we should search for a “fully settled” land, mostly in the light of the opinion shared by a number of Finnish scholars that the Old English Beorm (as well as the Old Norse Bjarm) have the same origin as perm’ and derive from permi that occurs in Eastern Finnish dialects being not an ethnic name, but a designation of nomadic tradesmen “who belonged to a more or less organized society of merchants conducting trade over a very large area. Those areas where the traders had their supply centres and permanent settlements were called Bjarmaland or Biarmia or Perm’ by their neighbours. Since the term does not refer to a certain tribe or nationality, but is an occupational term, areas widely apart from each other could be called by it at different times” (Valtonen 1988, 80. See Vilkuna 1956, 1964, 1977; Gallén 1966; Zahrisson 1981, and many others). I would rather join Janet Bately in her assertion that “it has to be remembered that at this point in the text we have no more than a rather inadequate note of what Ohthere actually said” (Bately 2007, 52). Along with Ohthere’s travel account, a number of Scandinavian sources mention Bjarmaland or those who live there. A strophe from Gráfeldardrápa, by the Icelandic skald Glúmr Geirason, composed in 975 at the fall of the Norwegian king Haraldr gráfeldr, tells about his battle on the river Vína (“á Vínu borði”) and his victory over the tribes of Bjarmar (“bjarmskar kindir”) (see above, p. 26). An anonymous Latin chronicle, Historia Norwegie (ca. 1170), places Biarmonia beyond the northernmost Norwegian territory, Hålogaland, and names its inhabitants among the other peoples of the European north, Kyriali, Kweni, Cornuti Finni. The expression “utrique Biarmones” (“the two kinds of Bjarms”) used here points to the two-part structure of Biarmonia (HN 2003, 56/57, 52/ 53, 54/55). Saxo Grammaticus, in Gesta Danorum, 8.14.6, describes, primarily on the basis of oral information, the landscape of Biarmia with permanent snow, cold, darkness, and the absence of the sun and the stars; he also mentions “Byarmia ulterior” (“distant Biarmia”) (Saxo 1931, 240), which implies the existence of “Biarmia citerior” (“nearby Biarmia”) as well. Konungasögur of the early thirteenth century describe journeys from Norway to Bjarmaland in the north, battles between the Norwegians and the Bjarmar on the bank of the Vína river, the robbery of a mound dedicated to the local god called Jómali, and trade contacts. Snorri Sturluson names furs (squirrel, beaver, and sable) as the main article of Bjarmian trade in connection with the trip undertaken on the initiative of the Norwegian king (Msk 2011, 2:17; Fask 1985, 79, 103, 182, 302; Hkr 1941, 135, 217; Hkr 1945, 227–28, 250, 253; Hkr 1951, 212). The Icelandic T–O type map (GkS 1812 III 4to, ca. 1225–1250) contains in its northern part, alongside the list of countries (“Tile, Island, Norvegie, Gautland, Suiþioð, Rusia”), the following inscription: “Biarmar habitauit hic” (“The Bjarmar live here”) (see Chekin 2006, 70–71, 369). Icelandic geographical treatises of the twelfth to fourteenth centuries also place Bjarmaland to the northeast of Finnmark. They note that to the north of Bjarmaland lies Greenland, but these lands are separated by an uninhabited desert. Bjarmaland is said in AM 736 I 4o to be tributary
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to the king of Garðar (Rus’) (Melnikova 1986, 77, 87). Fornaldarsögur often “send” their characters to Bjarmaland. This land is placed by their authors either on the White Sea shores at the mouth of the river Vína, or not far from Lake Ladoga. Sometimes, in the sagas of this group, Bjarmaland loses its real features (Fas 1954, 2:98, 100, 211, 214, 227, 232, 245, 248, 281–83, 287, 321; 3:139, 140, 145, 150, 151, 296, 297, 299, 304–6, 314, 318, 321, 322; 4:248, 262, 266, 267, 269, 279, 281–83, 285, 296, 297). Icelandic annals (late fourteenth century) based on the kings’ sagas (see Jakob Benediktsson 1993, 15–16) have preserved the date of the last trip to Bjarmaland, the year 1222 (IA 1888, 24, 63, 126, 185, 326). Carta marina by Olaus Magnus (1539) and later maps drawn in the same tradition, namely Mercator’s map of 1554 and that of Ortelius of 1570, identify Biarmia with the Kola Peninsula. Historia de gentibus septentrionalibus (“Description of the northern peoples”) by Olaus Magnus (1555) contains a description of Biarmia which goes back to the text of Saxo Grammaticus (Olaus Magnus 1972, 9–10). Biarmia, or the people living there, is not mentioned in Old Russian written sources, with the only exception being a remark by the Russian historian Vasiliy Tatishchev (1686–1750) that in the chronicle by Ioakim, the Bishop of Novgorod, Korela (“Karelia”) is called “Biarma” (Tatishchev 1962, 108, 115). Biarmia/Bjarmaland is interpreted by different historians in conflicting ways: they place this land in Perm’ (in the territory of Komi of the Kama district); on the Volga river in the region of Yaroslavl’; in Karelia; on the Kola Peninsula; in the Eastern Baltic; on the lower Dvina and the shores of the White Sea, and so on (cf. Jackson 1992, 2002). The ethnicity of Beormas/Bjarmar is not clear either, in spite of numerous attempts to identify them with Karelians, Vepsians, or the Chud’ Zavolochskaya of the Russian chronicles, or to treat them as nomadic tradesmen (see Vilkuna 1964; Gallén 1966; Zahrisson 1981; Valtonen 1988), inhabitants of some “distant land.”2 This plurality of interpretations is easy to explain. First of all, it is connected with the set of sources taken in each particular case for the analysis. Second, much depends on the understanding of some other place-names in this context, and primarily on that of the river name “Vína.” Last but not least, what matters is the historical development of place-names in general. If we put all the source data together we might decide that Bjarmaland occupied a vast territory in the north of Eastern Europe. We shall then come to the conclusion of Alan S. C. Ross that “in Bjarmian territory” were the river Dvina as well as “the west side of the White Sea,” that “Bjarmaland was divided into two parts, Biarmia ulterior in which the Dvina was situated and Biarmia citerior in which Ohthere’s Beormas on Kandalaks Bay were situated” (Ross 1981, 43). However, it is evident from the analysis of source material that each group of sources, following a certain tradition, has its own ethno-geographical nomenclature (Jackson 1993). Correspondingly, every group of sources speaks of its own Bjarmaland in a much narrower sense. Ohthere’s travel account, as has been already pointed out, enables us to locate Biarmia on the southern and western coasts of the Kola Peninsula, from the lower Strelna, or 2 See Helimski 2008, 84–86, who claims that “Old Russ. перьмь (phonetically pĕrĭmĭ) is the exact counterpart of Baltic Finnic *perim,” while Bjarma-could also have originated from Perämaa (perä maa), or Perimmaa (perim maa), “the most distant land.”
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the lower Varzuga, and further to the west. The same territories, namely regions to the northeast (or east) of Norway and Finnmark, are also meant in the Historia Norwegie and in the geographical treatise from the last quarter of the twelfth century (AM 194 8o) (Melnikova 1986, 77). This text speaks, which is worth noting, of two Kvenlands (the name Kvens was used in medieval sources for the inhabitants of the territories to the north of the Gulf of Bothnia). There is a good analogy: Botnia occidentalis—Botnia orientalis and Lappia occidentalis—Lappia orientalis lying on the opposite shores of the Gulf of Bothnia in Carta Marina of Olaus Magnus. Taking this subdivision of lands into consideration, we can understand the words of Historia Norwegie (“utrique Biarmones”) and of Saxo Grammaticus in his Gesta Danorum (“Biarmia ulterior”) as an indication of the existence of two Biarmias. But, in my opinion, the phrase of Bósa saga “heldu þeir í Austrveg ok komu undir Bjarmaland” (“they held their course in the Eastern way and came close to Bjarmaland”) (Bósa saga 1954, 256) should not be considered, as it has been done by Alan S. C. Ross (Ross 1981, 43), as an argument in support of the idea of the existence of an Eastern and Western Bjarmaland. The two parts of this land (Northern and Southern Bjarmaland as I see them) were divided by the White Sea and its Kandalaksha Bay.3 By the way, if we assume that there had been Northern and Southern Bjarmaland, then there would be no contradiction in the aforesaid geographical treatise placing Bjarmaland south of Kvenland, while at the same time depicting Bjarmaland as the northernmost of all European territories. The chronology of those written sources that mention Biarmia/Bjarmaland indicates the fact that initially this place-name must have served as a designation of the western part of the White Sea Shore, from the Onega to the Strelna (or the Varzuga). Thus we determine the original location of ancient Biarmia. The same territory is likely to have been named in the Treaties of Novgorod with the Grand Dukes in 1264 and 1304–1305, where Koloperem’ (Goloperm’) is listed between Zavolochye (territories including the low Northern Dvina) and Tre (Terskiy Coast to the east of the Varzuga) (GVNP 1949, 9, 17). (One may assume that Koloperem’ is related, through its root perem’, to the Beormas of Ohthere and the Bjarmar of some other Old Norse sources.) Saga texts, for the most part, do not exclude this understanding of Bjarmaland, as it is often told in the sagas of the route northwards to Finnmark and all the way to Bjarmaland, and several islands on the northwestern coast of Norway and Finnmark are named. The route from Bjarmaland is described in the sagas as the way “norðan”; saga heroes have to sail across Gandvík (which may imply the White Sea or the Arctic Ocean),4 they pass Gjæsvær (Geirsver), Lenvik (Lengjuvík), Bjarkøj (Bjarkey), return to Finnmark, and then sail back to Norway 3 Cf. Lars Boje Mortensen’s comment on “utrique Biarmones”: “the two kinds of Bjarms […] seem to be the inhabitants of both sides of Sinus Septentrionalis” (HN 2003, 115n7).
4 Gandvík is understood by the majority of scholars as a designation of the White Sea. Still, in my opinion, this is an inaccurate conclusion inappropriately relying on modern geographical ideas. I prefer to share Karl Tiander’s opinion formulated more than a century ago (Tiander 1906, 72–78) that the whole Arctic Ocean to the north of the European shores had been understood as a gulf, sinus septentrionale, and called Gandvík, the geographical term gradually “narrowing” its meaning
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(Hkr 1945, 227–28, 250, 253). Still, three plots in the sources relate Bjarmaland to the Vína river. The majority of scholars interpret Vína as a designation of a river—namely, the Northern Dvina (see above, pp. 53–55). However, the latest treatment of Bjarmaland aims to refute this judgement. Its author, Mervi Koskela Vasaru, grounds her conclusion on modern parallels to the geographical name used in the Old Norse texts, on the fact that a component Viena, related to the Vína, appears today in the Finnish name of the White Sea (Vienanmeri), of the Northern Dvina river (Vienajoki) and of one more toponym: “the northernmost part of Karelia (south of the Kantalahti Bay) is called ‘Vienan Karjala’ or just ‘Viena’ (i.e. Viena Karelia)” (Koskela Vasaru 2016, 395). Thus she places Bjarmaland in an area on the southern coast of the Kantalahti Bay known today as Viena Karelia. Koskela Vasaru insists that Snorri could have read the skaldic stanzas mentioning Bjarmaland in his own way and might have come to the conclusion that the name Vína was referring to a river, in spite of the fact, as she thinks, that it was a designation of a certain territory. “It is possible,” she writes, “that those travelling to this area would have known that ‘Vína’/Viena was not a river, but writers who had not been in the area themselves would not necessarily have known this. Relying on the skaldic verses and Snorri’s interpretation of them the later writers could easily have started using ‘Vína’ as a proper noun of a river” (Koskela Vasaru 2016, 398). However, this interpretation can not be supported by the Old Norse sources. It leaves no doubt that Bjarmaland was connected on the mental map of medieval Scandinavians with the White Sea region, but the consonance of the two river names— the Old Norse-Icelandic Vína and the Old Russian Двина (Dvina)—gave grounds to mix up the two rivers when the Scandinavians came to know the Northern Dvina. Having no chance to prove that the Scandinavians of the tenth century were so well familiar with the Northern Dvina as to give its name to other rivers, we can suppose the opposite developments and assert that the alteration in the sagas of semantics of the place-name Bjarmaland—as compared to that of Ohthere’s account, Historia Norwegie, etc.—was a result of the correlation of skaldic Vína with the real river, Northern Dvina, that finally became known to the Vikings through their voyages to the White Sea.5 This is why the toponym Bjarmaland has changed its meaning in the sagas as compared to the earlier sources: if initially it could serve to denote the entire western half of the White Sea between the rivers Onega and Strelna (or Varzuga), in the sagas it is likely to refer primarily to the lower reaches of the Northern Dvina. Those plots that relate Bjarmaland to the Vína river are the battle of Eiríkr bloðøx with the Bjarmar on the banks of the Vína as depicted in Egils saga and in Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla; the battle of Haraldr gráfeldr “við Bjarma á Vínubakka” as told by Glúmr Geirason in his Gráfeldardrápa, in Fagrskinna and by Snorri Sturluson in to function in some rare texts as a designation of the White Sea. Gandvík literally means “Magic bay,” which reflects the idea of the mythical and dangerous realm of the Far North.
5 On the way “from the Varangians to the Greeks” along the Northern Dvina see Gunnar Jacobsson 1983.
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Heimskringla; robbery of a pagan temple of the Bjarmian god Jómali near the Vína as described in Heimskringia and, with great variations, in several fornaldarsögur. Snorri tells how the Scandinavians who had sailed to Bjarmaland stopped at a certain trading place (“kaupstaðr”) and after the market was over made out along the Vína river and reached open sea. Thinking of robbing the temple of a local deity they went ashore and walked in the flat fields and then through a great forest. Fleeing after the robbery from the guards of the enclosure, they set sail, their ship quickly went out into the open sea, and they sailed across Gandvík (Hkr 1945, 229–32). The details contained in the fornaldarsögur are more concrete: in Hálfs saga there appears Vínumynni (“the mouth of the Vína”) (Hálfs saga 1954, 98); Bósa saga gives a name to the forest: Vínuskógr (“forest on the Vína”) (Bósa saga 1954, 297, 306); Sturlaugs saga mentions a valey located to the west of the river Vína (“fyrir vestan ána Vínu”) (Sturlaugs saga 1954, 150); finally, Örvar-Odds saga tells that there are many islands on the river Vína (“eyjar liggja margar í ánni”) and that the Scandinavians who sailed into the Vína laid anchor at a cape protruding from the mainland (“Þeir kasta akkeri undir nesi einu. Þat gekk af meginlandi”) (Örvar-Odds saga 1954, 214). Comparison of the kings’ sagas and sagas of ancient times demonstrates that the extension of plots is achieved in the latter sagas both by means of reinforcement of the fairy details, and through introducing into the text real geographical lore absent in the tradition of the kings’ sagas which, however, is difficult to identify and still more difficult to separate from simple fiction. Bjarmaland is depicted in the sagas, mostly in the fornaldarsögur, as a rich country. A mound described in the kings’ sagas dedicated to Jómali is transformed here into a great temple where there is much gold and treasure. It is evident that the basis for such a myth lies in the fact that these lands were incredibly rich in furs. As Grethe Authén Blom noted, “the various products from the north—furs, walrus teeth and hides, eiderdown, falcons—were so valuable that in spite of the fact that they had to be gathered from a wide area with great toil and sometimes loss of life, they mattered a great deal in the economy” (Blom 1984, 387). Snorri Sturluson says that the main object of Bjarmian trade that made King Óláfr Haraldsson initiate a trip to Bjarmaland were grey furs as well as beaver and sable pelts (Hkr 1945, 253). In its turn, Hauks þáttr Hábrókar tells of King Haraldr hárfagri (the Fine-Haired) (858–958) who sent his warrior Haukr “norðr til Bjarmalands at heimta hárvöru” (“north to Bjarmaland to obtain furs”) (Flat 1860, 579). Bjarmian furs are mentioned in a number of fornaldarsögur (for instance in Örvar-Odds saga). These stories were hardly written simply in accordance with a stereotyped formula, since fur trade was widespread in the Early Middle Ages in the northern districts of Eastern Europe. One can believe that acquisition of fur treasures was the main stimulus for both the developing of new lands by the Slavs and the voyages of Scandinavians to Bjarmaland. As has been mentioned above, the last trip to Bjarmaland is dated by the Icelandic annals to 1222 (IA 1888, 24, 63, 126, 185, 326). According to Przemysław Urbańczyk, “the lack of later accounts suggests that these contacts ceased after Novgorod became the European centre for hides and began military-economic expansion towards the North” (Urbańczyk 1992, 232). A limited number of sources point to the connection of Bjarmaland with the territories of Old Rus’. We have discussed above the connection between Bjarmaland and the
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Suzdal’ Land as reflected in Hákonar saga Hákonarsonar (see above, pp. 22 and 100). Information of a different kind occurs in Hálfdanar saga Eysteinssonar. Bjarmaland is connected in this fornaldarsaga with Ladoga and the surrounding territories. Elena Rydzevskaya stressed that in the route from Aldeigjuborg to Bjarmaland and back one can see a reflection of the real route that had been pioneered by Karelians and Novgorodians, later than the Viking Age, from the northern Ladoga region, over the Onega and along the Northern Dvina, towards the White Sea (Rydzevskaya 1945, 64). In fact, a number of entries in the Russian chronicle of the eleventh century, as well as the list of Novgorodian parishes in the Ladoga region, on the banks of the Onega, the Dvina, and the Sukhona, preserved in a charter issued by the prince of Novgorod Svyatoslav Ol’govich in the late 1130s (NPL 1950, 18, 161, 201; Shchapov 1976, 147–48), point to the fact that there existed at the end of the eleventh century a route widely used by the Novgorodians to the Low Dvina region over the Onega Lake. The saga, in spite of its limited reliability, contains important data, as it points to the special role that Ladoga played in the exploration of the north. We have seen that Bjarmaland, being the periphery of the known world for the Scandinavians as well as for the peoples of Eastern Europe, also played the role of an intermediate zone where their interests intermingled. As Grethe Authén Blom has put it, “the prestige of reigning over such an enormous country was obvious, but economics mattered more” (Blom 1984, 386). If journeying from Norway north to Bjarmaland and back often occurs in the saga texts and sometimes even serves as an element of a hero’s positive characteristics, the information on the connections of Bjarmaland with Ladoga and Suzdal’ is far from stereotypical formulas and, for this reason, likely to be reliable.
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Part 2
Four Norwegian Kings in Old Rus’ En, gramr—né frák fremra friðskerði þér verða— austr vast ár it næsta, ǫrðuglyndr, í Gǫrðum. (“And, resolute ruler, the following year you were east in Garðar; I never heard of {a peace-diminisher} [WARRIOR] becoming more distinguished than you.”) (Bǫlverkr Arnórsson, Drápa about Haraldr harðráði)1
This part of the book is dedicated to information preserved in the sagas and skaldic poems on the visits to Old Rus’ of four Norwegian kings—namely Óláfr Tryggvason in 977–986 (chapter 11), Óláfr Haraldsson in 1029–1030 (chapter 12), his son Magnús from 1029 until 1035 (chapter 13), and Haraldr Sigurðarson in the early 1030s and in 1044–1045 (chapter 14). The circumstances of their appearance in Rus’ are quite different. According to the sagas, Óláfr Tryggvason, at the age of nine, is rescued from Estonian captivity by his mother’s brother who comes there to collect taxes for the Russian prince Vladimir Svyatoslavich, ransoms the boy, and takes him to Hólmgarðr to the court of Prince Vladimir. Óláfr Haraldsson, after having been the king of Norway for fifteen years, flees from his political opponents to the Russian prince Yaroslav the Wise and his wife Ingigerðr. After one winter in Rus’, he decides to return to his own kingdom and try to regain his dominion in Norway, but he leaves his six-year-old son Magnús, with whom he has come to Rus’, in safe-keeping of the prince and his wife. Haraldr Sigurðarson, at the age of fifteen, flees to Rus’ after the Battle of Stiklastaðir, stays here for some time, leaves Rus’ for ten years and serves in the Varangian guard in Constantinople, comes back to Rus’, marries Yaroslav’s daughter Elisabeth, and returns to his country to become the king of Norway. All four Norwegian kings are seeking a short-term refuge in Rus’, and obtain it. They are welcomed by the Russian prince and his wife and are highly honoured and respected there. Óláfr Tryggvason and Magnús Óláfsson are brought up by the Russian prince (Vladimir and Yaroslav, respectively). Óláfr Tryggvason and Haraldr Sigurðarson occupy a high position in the Russian military service. All of them leave Rus’ for their own country in an attempt to gain (or regain) power in Norway. Old Norse sources have reflected the activity of Yaroslav the Wise in the field of foreign affairs: the Russian prince is said to use not only diplomatic means and military support of the Norwegian kings, but also espionage and bribery of the leading chieftains in Norway. 1 See below, p. 157.
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The life of the Norwegian kings in Rus’ is described in the sagas with great laconicism, and with the help of a set of common phrases. On the one hand, this manifests the lack of concrete information. On the other hand, it reflects the tendency of saga authors to exaggerate the role of a noble Scandinavian outside his own country. Still, the very fact that these four kings had been to Rus’ (in spite of the Old Russian sources’ absolute ignorance of this matter) cannot be denied, and the basis for such a statement is the existence of skaldic strophes, composed by contemporary poets and mentioning the four kings’ stay in Rus’. The study of the saga material would not convince us that these stories had not been an invention of saga authors, a literary topos, an element of the positive characteristic of a Viking king, if there had been no skaldic strophes within these fragments. Quoted by saga authors, the eleventh-century skalds—Hallfreðr vandræðaskáld, Sigvatr Þórðarson, Bjarni gullbrárskáld, Arnórr Þórðarson jarlaskáld, Bǫlverkr Arnórsson, Stúfr inn blindi Þórðarson, and Þjóðólfr Arnórsson—definitely confirm the saga information.
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Chapter 11
ÓLÁFR TRYGGVASON ACCORDING TO ICELANDIC sagas, the future Norwegian king Óláfr Tryggvason, the great-grandson of the founder of the dynasty of Norwegian kings, Haraldr inn hárfagri (the Fine-Haired), spent several years at the court of King Valdamarr (Prince Vladimir Svyatoslavich) in Garðaríki (Old Rus’), or, to be more exact, in Hólmgarðr (Novgorod).1 Óláfr Tryggvason played an exceptional role in Norwegian history and is very popular in medieval literature, though the early historical tradition about him is scanty. Only contemporary English annals (the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle) and Old Norse-Icelandic skaldic poetry describe some of his military exploits and allude to his Christianity. However, after Óláfr’s death his exploits were included in works by the founding fathers of Scandinavian history: Adam of Bremen’s Gesta Hammaburgensis ecclesiae pontificum (ca. 1070) and Ari Þorgilsson’s Íslendingabók (1122–1132). In the late twelfth century an anonymous author wrote of him in the Historia Norwegie, as did Theodoricus monachus in his Historia de antiquitate regum Norwagiensium. Ágrip af Noregskonunga sǫgum (ca. 1190) touched briefly upon his life. Two sagas were composed about him in Latin in the late twelfth century at the Benedictine Þingeyrar monastery in northern Iceland: by Oddr Snorrason, surviving only in early thirteenth-century Old Icelandic translation, and by Gunnlaugr Leifsson, surviving only in translation as interpolations into another saga. The great compendia of the Norwegian kings from the first half of the thirteenth century—namely, Fagrskinna and Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla—devote much space and attention to him. The encyclopaedic collection, called by scholars Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, was probably compiled around 1300 by an Icelander Bergr Sokkason, an abbot in Munkaþverá. Óláfr figures also in the Icelandic family sagas, those of them which refer to the conversion of Iceland in the year 999 or 1000. Óláfr is mentioned in the Icelandic annals. The date of his birth is given as 968 or 969; his captivity in Eistland is dated to 971; he arrived at Garðaríki in 977 or 978 and departed in 986 or 987; his baptism on the Scilly islands is told to have happened in 993; the beginning of his reign in Norway is related to 995; and his last battle and death are dated to 999 or 1000 (IA 1888, 104–5). Not forgetting the conventional nature of this assumption, I consider it possible to follow those scholars who accept the dating of Annales Regii and to denote the years of King Óláfr Tryggvason’s reign as 995–1000. Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar naturally falls into three seemingly separate stories: of his early life and accession to the throne (until chapter 50 of his saga in Heimskringla); of his missionary activity in Norway and Iceland (chapters 53–59, 65–84, 95–96); and of his last Battle of Svǫlðr where he fought against a united army led by the Swedish and Danish kings and the Norwegian jarl, and, in all likelihood, perished (chapters 89–94, 97–113) (Bagge 1991, 46–47). For us, the first part of the saga is of interest. 1 For a more detailed description of Óláfr’s stay in Old Rus’ and a more complete bibliography, see Jackson 2000, 15–49.
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In this chapter we shall analyze those moments of Óláfr Tryggvason’s early life, described in the sagas, that are related to Eastern Europe and Rus’. We shall deal with the stories about the elderly mother of “konungr Valdamarr” (prince Vladimir Svyatoslavich) predicting Óláfr’s appearance in Rus’; about the flight of Óláfr’s mother with a baby son from Norway to Garðaríki (Rus’), pirates attacking them in the Baltic Sea, and Óláfr’s captivity in Eistland (Estonia); about his being saved from this captivity and brought to Rus’; about a murder committed by him in Hólmgarðr (Novgorod) and its consequences; about Óláfr’s military service with Valdamarr; and about the role of Óláfr Tryggvason in the conversion of Rus’.
A Prophetess in Garðaríki Predicts Óláfr’s Appearance in Rus’
The prehistory of the appearance in Rus’ of Óláfr Tryggvason is described in the saga of Oddr (chapter 6) and in the Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta (chapter 46), which is based on it. According to Oddr, “Valdamarr konungr” (“King Valdamarr”) ruled Garðaríki “með miklum veg” (“with great honour”). “Svá er sagt at móðir hans var spákona” (“We are told that his mother was a prophetess”) (ÓTOddr 2006, 144; ÓTOddr 2003, 44). Once, having been brought to his throne on the first evening of Yule, she prophesied that a prince in Norway that had been born that year would be fostered in Garðaríki: “ok sjá mun verða ágætligr maðr ok dýrligr hǫfðingi; ok eigi mun hann skaða gera þínu ríki, heldr mun hann þat margfalliga auka yðr til handa” (“He will become a distinguished man and a glorious leader, and he will do no harm to your realm. But rather he will give it manifold increase on your behalf”) (ÓTOddr 2006, 144–45; ÓTOddr 2003, 44). As Theodor Andersson stresses, this is Snorri’s objectivizing tendency which results in the fact that the more improbable aspects of Óláfr’s Christianity are excluded, this prophesy being among them. “Snorri sacrificed no fewer than twenty-five of Oddr’s chapters in something like their entirety. Not surprisingly, the most common exclusions have to do with the magical arts, prophecies, visions, and miracles” (Andersson 1977). In Gustav Storm’s opinion, this story of prophecy in Oddr’s saga was dependent on the development of the plot and was not based on real facts, which is why Snorri could easily omit it (Storm 1873, 135). Prophecies can be regarded as a commonplace in the sagas, but scholars tend to find in Oddr’s saga borrowings from the Bible and from legendary literature and thus explain a number of motifs in its text, including this one. Lars Lönnroth and Walter Baetke believe that prophecies preceding the birth of Óláfr resemble prophecies before the birth of Christ (Lönnroth 1963, 68; Baetke 1973, 308–9). In the S redaction of Oddr’s saga the same passage (chapter 5) ends with a more extensive genealogical remark than in redaction A. Here we read that “þessi Valdamarr var faðir Jarizleifs, fǫður Holta, fǫður Valdamars, fǫður Haralds, fǫður Ingibjargar, móður Valdamars Danakonungs” (“this Valdamarr was the father of Jarizleifr, the father of Holti, the father of Valdamarr, the father of Haraldr, the father of Ingibjǫrg, the mother of Valdamarr Danakonungr”) (ÓTOddr 2006, 145). Here we have the only Old Norse- Icelandic source in which the genealogical tree of Valdamarr the Old, the Russian prince Vladimir Svyatoslavich (978–1015) is represented without distortion. Most of the sagas
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consider Vladimir Monomakh (“Valdamarr, the father of Haraldr”) to be the son of Yaroslav the Wise (marked with a broken line in Figure 2). At the same time, the Russian name of Holti, the son of Jarizleifr, is nowhere else disclosed. Only this text enables us to specify that Holti is the Scandinavian name of Vsevolod Yaroslavich, the father of Vladimir Monomakh. As far as King Valdamarr’s mother is concerned, Feodor Braun, not without reason, believes that the sagas have in mind Princess Ol’ga, who died in 869; in fact she was not the mother but the grandmother of Vladimir Svyatoslavich. According to Braun, Ol’ga is represented in the Icelandic tradition in two images, that of the wise elderly mother of King Valdamarr and that of his wife Allógía (Braun 1924, 177–78). Oddr tells in chapter A-8 that he “átti þá dróttning er Allógía hét ok var hin vitrasta kona” (“had a queen named Allogia, and she was a very wise woman”) (ÓTOddr 2006, 144; ÓTOddr 2003, 45). Samuel Cross also sees in the image of the king’s mother memories of the Russian princess Ol’ga (Cross 1931, 145). Elena Rydzevskaya and Erma Gordon share this view (Rydzevskaya 1935, 13n2; Gordon 1938, 70n18, 70n19).
The Infant Óláfr Captured in Eistland, on the Way to Garðaríki
Various redactions of Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar contain a story about how the baby Óláfr— in order to save him from the persecution of the murderers of his father, Gunnhildr Mother of Kings and her sons—was sent by his mother Ástríðr to Garðaríki to her brother Sigurðr, who at that time was there in the service of King Valdamarr. Scholarly opinions on the reliability of this information differ significantly. Thus, Walter Baetke believes that this story might be based on a historical fact that Óláfr had been brought up in Rus’ (Baetke 1973, 309). On the contrary, in the opinion of Alexander Bugge (1910, 2) what is reliably known of Óláfr’s childhood and adolescence is no more than is formulated by Fagrskinna, that he “á barnsaldri fór með móður sinni í ókunn lǫnd” (“as a child travelled with his mother to lands unknown”) (Fask 1985, 141; Fask 2004, 112). While discussing how much of the early, legendary history of the protagonist we ought to give credence to in the histories of Óláfr Tryggvason, Gwyn Jones comes to the conclusion that among other things we can rely on as historical truth the statement that Óláfr’s mother and kinsmen took him as a child to Rus’ for safe-keeping, basing his evaluation of this event on the fact that the origins of the ruling house there were Swedish, and that the northern connection, though tenuous, still held (Jones 1968, 17). I am also inclined to believe in Óláfr’s stay in Rus’, but for different reasons. There exists a reliable source which leaves no doubt as to the veracity of this event—a strophe from a poem by Hallfreðr vandræðaskáld (see above, pp. 26 and 65–66). This poem concerning Óláfr, a formal panegyric with a refrain (a drápa), is considered to have been composed in 996, i.e., during the king’s own lifetime, and is preserved in a number of later sagas. The strophe of this poem that mentions Garðar is the most solid and only unequivocal ground for not doubting Óláfr’s stay in Rus’. With the exception of Ágrip—where it is told that after the fall of Tryggvi Ástríðr “braut til Orkneyja með Óláfi þrévetrum, sýni sínum ok Tryggva” (“fled to Orkney with
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Óláfr sœnski Eiríksson
Ingigerðr
Valdamarr
Haraldr Guðinason Englakonungr
Ingi Steinkelsson Svíakonungr Kristín
Gyða
Holti inn frœkni
Valdamarr
Jarizleifr
Vissivaldr
Valdamarr
Búrizlafr
Vartilafr
Ellisíf
Haraldr harðráði Sigurðarson
Ingigerðr
Maria
Haraldr (Mstislav)
Óláfr kyrri
þóra þorbergsdóttir
Magnús
Magnús berfœttr
Eiríkr Sveinsson Danakonungr
Ingibjörg
Margrét
Kristín
Eiríkr eymuni
Knútr lávarðr
Katrín
Valdamarr
Suffía
Málmfriðr
Sigurðr Jórsalafari
Kristín
Erlíngr skakki
Figure 2. Old Norse-Icelandic sources on matrimonial ties of the Russian princely family with the ruling houses of Scandinavia (eleventh to mid-twelfth centuries).
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Óláfr, their three-year-old son”) (Ágrip 1985, 19; Ágrip 1995, 27)—the sources unanimously acknowledge that Óláfr was born after the death of his father. The same destination of his mother’s flight is given in Historia Norwegie, but it happens before Óláfr was born. In Oddr’s saga and in Heimskringla Óláfr is said to have been born on some island; later his mother moved with her companions to her father Eiríkr in Oprostaðir, and from there to Sweden to Hákon inn gamli (the Old). The most detailed further trip of Óláfr is given by Oddr Snorrason, and in his version (as later in Snorri’s Heimskringla) Ástríðr does not send off her son, but goes to Garðaríki with him (ÓTOddr 2006, 145– 47). In this, in Baetke’s opinion, one can see Oddr’s desire to model the story of Óláfr’s escape on the biblical account of the flight to Egypt (Baetke 1973, 309). He also believes that Jarl Hákon plays in this story the role of King Herod, the persecutor of the baby, for which role Gunnhildr does not fit. Snorri, in his opinion, eliminated this embarrassment by replacing Jarl Hákon with some other person with the same name: “ríkr maðr, vinr Gunnhildar, er Hákon er nefndr” (“an influential man, a friend of Gunnhildr, whose name was Hákon”) (Hkr 1941, 227; Hkr 2011, 138). Theodor Andersson believes that the birth of Óláfr was modelled by Oddr on the birth of Christ (Andersson 1978, 145). Telling about the captivity of Óláfr, Oddr himself makes a direct comparison with the Bible: “En sá guð er eigi vill leynask láta dýrð ok veg sinna vina, svá sem eigi má ljósit leynask í myrkrinu, svá gerði hann þá mikinn vegþessa hins unga manns ok leysti hann af þessu ófrelsi sem forðum leysti hann Jósep” (“But that God who does not wish the glory and honor of his followers to be hidden, just as the light cannot be hidden in the dark, honored the young man greatly and released him from this captivity just as he released Joseph of old”) (ÓTOddr 2006, 147; ÓTOddr 2003, 45). Some scholars are inclined to see in this story of Óláfr being taken prisoner in Eistland nothing more than a didactic tale (Jones 1968, 17). In my opinion, for all the edification of the story of captivity and redemption of Óláfr, we can see here the echo of reality—namely, the reflection of the historical situation in the Baltic of the time when sagas were being written down, namely, the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Thus, from the Chronicle of Henry of Livonia we know of active pirate activity by Estonians in the Baltic Sea in the thirteenth century, and that Estonians and Curonians—accustomed to raids on Sweden and Denmark—obtained slaves in these raids and sold them to other heathens (Henrich 1955, 19, 72–75, 215–16, chs. 7:1; 14:1, 3–4; 30:1).
Óláfr Comes to Garðaríki
The story of Óláfr’s release from captivity in Eistland is presented in the sources with varying degree of completeness. The earliest of them (Historia Norwegie, chapter 17, and Ágrip, chapter 18) laconically report that Óláfr was bought by his kinsman sent to Eistland to collect tribute by the “konungr af Hólmgarði” (“king in Hólmgarðr”) (Ágrip 1985, 20). The saga by Oddr, chapter A-8, contains the longest story of how Sigurðr, Ástríðr’s brother, came from Garðaríki to Eistland, to the place where Óláfr, then nine years old, was, and how Sigurðr identified him as his sister’s son and then bought out Óláfr and the son of Óláfr’s foster father murdered by pirates. After that Sigurðr departed
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with his kinsman Óláfr and returned to Garðaríki (see ÓTOddr 2006, 147–49; ÓTOddr 2003, 45–46). While Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar in Heimskringla, chapter 6 and en mesta, chapter 46, tell that “hafði Sigurðr þar metnað mikinn” (“Sigurðr was held in high honor there”) (Hkr 1941, 230; Hkr 2011, 140), Oddr gives some interesting details omitted later by Snorri Sturluson. In particular, the A-text tells that “Sigurðr bróðir Ástríðar hafði svá mikinn metnað af konungi at hann egnaðisk af honum miklar eignir ok mikil lén, ok setti hann yfir at skipa konungs málum ok heimta saman skyldir konungs víða af heruðum. Hans boð skyldi ok yfir standa ǫllu konungsríkinu” (“Sigurðr enjoyed such great honor at the hands of the king that he received many lands and a great fief. The king put him in charge of his affairs and appointed him to collect the king’s dues from far-flung regions. His word was law everywhere in the king’s realm”) (ÓTOddr 2006, 147–48; ÓTOddr 2003, 45). The S-text adds that Sigurðr was to conduct the king’s court and also, when collecting dues, to decide how much each region should pay (“ráða hvat hvergi skyldi gjalda”) (ÓTOddr 2006, 147–48). There is no doubt that the power that Sigurðr had in Rus’ is exaggerated by the saga. The place of Sigurðr at the court of the Russian prince and the king’s attitude to him are depicted by Oddr in accordance with the stereotype revealed in the sagas in describing the noble Norwegians (kings, jarls, hǫfðingar) outside Scandinavia: mostly, in these cases the narrative is aimed at glorification of a Scandinavian ruler (Jackson 1978). There is a strong conviction among historians that the Eastern Baltic region had for a long period attracted the attention of the Old Russian state, the more so because the Russian chronicler of the early twelfth century lists, among the peoples that pay tribute to Rus’, Chud’, Litva, Zimegola, Liv’, and others (RPC 1930, 55). Thomas Noonan, in contrast to this view, argues that Chud’ of Estonia was not subject to Rus’ in the period from 850 to 1015. His analysis of sources shows that Chud’ supplied armed detachments to the army of the Russian prince but did not pay any tribute to him. Noonan considers the story of Heimskringla about the collection of tribute by Sigurðr in Estonia in the context of what happened at the time at Rus’. As Snorri speaks about Hólmgarðr, Noonan determines the possible years of Sigurðr’s service with Vladimir as “970—ca. 977, when Vladimir was prince of Novgorod, or in 980 during the period after Vladimir had regained Novgorod but had not yet undertaken a campaign against Polotsk and Kiev.” However, at that time “Vladimir’s primary concern was to raise an army with which to implement his claims to the Kievan throne and to defend himself from his brothers.” He would not attempt to subordinate Chud’ when he needed their military assistance. Furthermore, “the collection of Russian tribute from Estonia is not mentioned in any Russian source,” which is why information recorded in Iceland in the thirteenth century can hardly serve as a basis for serious generalizations. Saga data concerning Estonian tribute contradict Russian sources and “the logic of Vladimir’s situation.” Noonan finds it possible to understand Sigurðr’s visit to Estonia “as an attempt to recruit Estonian troops rather than as evidence of Russian domination in Estonia ca. 975” (Noonan 1974, 17–18). All this sounds convincing, with two minor exceptions. First, not only Noonan, but some other scholars, reading in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar that Óláfr reached Valdamarr sitting in Hólmgarðr, conclude that this could happen before 978, when Vladimir Svyatoslavich became the grand prince of Kiev. However,
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as I have noted above, Hólmgarðr had from the very beginning “received” in the sagas the status of a capital city, a place where all Russian princes sit without changing their place of residence (see above, pp. 75–77), and therefore this material cannot serve as a basis for chronological calculations. Second, I still doubt that anyone in thirteenth-century Iceland could know that in the tenth century the Russian prince was in need of Estonian troops. In my opinion, we should interpret Sigurðr’s trip to Eistland—following the saga—not as an attempt to recruit troops for Vladimir, but as a collection of tribute in favour of the Russian prince, with the sole proviso that the saga has reflected the time when it was written down, namely, the late twelfth or early thirteenth century.
Murder in Hólmgarðr
A story preserved in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar of how the young Óláfr had killed a man named Klerkon in Hólmgarðr was repeatedly used by Russian historians to study the development of law in Old Rus’. The essence of the story is that Sigurðr, the kinsman of Óláfr, bringing the boy with him to Hólmgarðr, hid him in his house, because “þat váru lǫg í Garðaríki, at þar skyldu ekki vera konungbornir menn nema at konungs ráði” (“it was the law in Garðaríki that no men of royal blood should be there except with the king’s consent”) (Hkr 1941, 232; Hkr 2011, 141). But one day the boy left the house and in the marketplace he met the murderer of his foster father and took revenge on him. Such Russian historians as V. O. Klyuchevskiy, A. A. Zimin, M. B. Sverdlov and some others compared the criminal law under Vladimir Svyatoslavich and under Yaroslav the Wise, referring, inter alia, to Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar in Heimskringla or en mesta, without even showing knowledge of the fact that the plot concerning this murder occurs in five redactions of the saga and the early texts differ greatly in their interpretation of the penalty for murder. Thus, according to Historia Norwegie, chapter 17, and Ágrip, chapter 18, the boy “avenged his upbringer” himself, and in the former case he was “unde regi presentatur, a quo denum filius adoptatur” (“presented to the king and afterwards adopted as his son”) (HN 2003, 90/91), while in the latter text “þá þá hann miskunn af konunginum” (“he was granted the king’s pardon”) (Ágrip 1985, 20; Ágrip 1995, 29). In the saga by Oddr, chapter A-8, the young boy Óláfr was assisted by a large following of men who seized the slayer of Óláfr’s foster father, gave the boy a great broad axe, and watched his blow, “ok er þetta kallat mikit frægðarhǫgg, svá ungs manns” (“this was considered to be a great deed for so young a man”) (ÓTOddr 2006, 150; ÓTOddr 2003, 46–47), but again no penalty or punishment followed. On the contrary, in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar in Heimskringla, chapter 8, and en mesta, chapter 46, it is told that Sigurðr, after Óláfr had slain his offender, took the boy speedily to the residence of the queen who “bað kalla menn til sín með alvæpni” (“ordered men to be summoned to her fully armed”), while people—in accordance with their “lǫg, at drepa skyldi hvern, er mann drap ódœmðan” (“law that anyone who killed a man who had not been judged should be killed”)—rushed after the boy, and the king, unwilling to have it come to a fight, approached with his guard, “kom hann þá griðum á ok því næst sættum. Dœmði konungr bœtr, en dróttning helt upp gjǫldum” (“brought about a truce and after that a
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settlement. The king adjudged compensation, and the queen dealt with the payment”) (Hkr 1941, 231–32; Hkr 2011, 141). In Morkinskinna, chapter 1 there is a similar story from the childhood of another future Norwegian king, Magnús the Good, the son of Óláfr Haraldsson. The action again takes place in Garðaríki, only somewhat later, at the court of Yaroslav the Wise (see below, p. 149). It is said that the boy Magnús, of about six years of age, who loved to amuse himself in the king’s hall, once, wishing to take revenge on the courtier who had given him a shove, went up to him holding a little axe in his hand. He struck the courtier his death blow. And when he became aware of it, “þá mælti konungr: ‘Konungligt verk, fóstri,’ segir hann ok hló at; ‘ek skal bœta fyr þik.’ Síðan sættisk konungr við frændr [ins vegna] ok geldr upp þegar bœtrnar” (“the king said: ‘A royal deed, foster son,’ and he burst out laughing. ‘I will settle the compensation for you.’ Then the king arranged the payment with the heirs and paid over the fines immediately”) (Msk 2011, 1:6; Msk 2000, 90). The interdependence of these stories about Óláfr and Magnús is quite obvious. Here we have a typical case of borrowing and transferring plots from one text to another. One can only guess with which of the two juvenile kings—Óláfr or Magnús—this happening had occurred, if it ever did. Erma Gordon, who in general doubts that Óláfr had ever been at the Russian court, considers the history of Óláfr’s stay in Garðaríki as a confusion with the history of Magnús, who had to have been in Rus’ until the age of eleven. Oddr, she thinks, must have transferred the stories about Magnús that were well known to him to the history of Óláfr Tryggvason (Gordon 1938. S. 71–73). As I don’t share the view that Morkinskinna originated earlier than Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by Oddr (as only under this condition could Oddr have borrowed anything from this large compendium of the kings’ sagas) and, moreover, given the version of Historia Norwegie (written earlier and in a different tradition), I am inclined to see the narrative about Óláfr’s slaughter of his offender as a source for a similar story in Morkinskinna concerning Magnús. Similar topics occur also in the sagas of Icelanders. For instance, in Egils saga Skalla- Grímssonar (between 1200 and 1230), a story is told of how during a ball-game Egill was roughly treated by a somewhat older boy named Grímr; he asked Þorðr Granason for help, and the latter came with him, and gave him “a thick-bladed axe he was carrying, common enough at that time” (“Hann seldi honum í hendr skeggöxi eina, er Þórðr hafði haft í hendi. Þau vápn váru þá tíð”). Egill ran up to his offender “and drove the axe into his head right through to the brain” (“Þá hljóp Egill at Grími ok rak öxina í höfuð honum svá at þegar stóð í heila”) (Egils saga 1933, chapter 40; Egils saga 1976, 93–94). Snorri Sturluson is credited by some modern scholars with the composition of Egils saga, and while in his Heimskringla he had preferred (as Gustav Storm noted) the story of Ágrip (slightly modified) to a primitive story by Oddr (where Óláfr acts simply as an executioner), in Egils saga Snorri (if he is the author) is very close to Oddr. I think the above source material eloquently speaks for itself. Moreover, the chronological gap between the events described (the late tenth century) and the time of writing down these sources (the last third of the twelfth to the first third of the thirteenth century) is reflected in the fact that information, not discounting the distortions of its transmission to Iceland, had to survive for no less than a century in oral tradition and could undergo significant changes. The direction in which such transformation could go is
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quite obvious. We should recall the mechanism of folk etymology considered in the first part of the book, when an alien toponym is reproduced in another language phonetically, but with parallel assignment to it of a new meaning. Similarly, norms of a foreign law, if information about such matters reached Scandinavia, could and would, in my opinion, have been transformed in the process of oral transmission to reflect local norms (in this case, of both Norway and Iceland).
Óláfr in Military Service with Valdamarr The earliest information about military service of Óláfr in Rus’, contained in Ágrip, chapter 18, is extremely laconic: “En síðan er á leið á stundina, þá var hónum fengit lið ok skipastóll, ok fór hann bæði á eitt land ok ǫnnur lǫnd ok herjaði, ok aukuðu flokk hans brátt Norðmenn ok Gautar ok Danir, ok vann nú stórvirki ok aflaði sér með því frægðar ok góðs orðlags” (“And as time went on he was given men and ships and went harrying from land to land. Norwegians, Gauts and Danes quickly swelled his flock, and through great feats he won for himself fame and good repute”) (Ágrip 1985, 20–21; Ágrip 1995, 29). This list of Óláfr’s warriors is close to the one in the text of Historia Norwegie where it is told how Óláfr “pursued viking expeditions right along the Baltic coasts,” and “his fleet was swelled by an influx of Norwegians, Danes, Götar and Wends.” (“Factus adolescens piraticam excercens Baltica littora perlustrando […] Augmentabant enim eius classem Norwegenses ac Dani, Gautones et Sclaui.”) (HN 2003, 90/91–92/93). Information about Óláfr’s service with Valdamarr is not supported by any other data, but its probability is very high. Gwin Jones believes that evidently, while in Rus’, Óláfr did not sit idle. Due to his temperament, upbringing, and desire for glory, he was to participate in Vladimir’s many wars against the Slavs, Poles, Bulgars, and Pechenegs (Jones 1968, 17–18). This is on the one side. On the other side, from Russian sources we know Varangians (Scandinavians) precisely as mercenaries. In particular, Vladimir Svyatoslavich, preparing to fight with Yaropolk, also fled beyond the sea and “returned to Novgorod with Varangian allies” (RPC 1930, 55). In Oddr’s interpretation (chapter A-8) the motif of military service grows into a flowery story, filled with additional details and, undoubtedly, aimed at glorification of the future Norwegian king—the stereotype that has already been discussed above. Here we encounter both honour and glory from Valdamarr and the queen, troops and ships at Ólafr’s command, battles against those who had disgraced the king, great victories over his enemies, winning back those towns and territories that had belonged to the king, subjecting many foreign peoples, splendid booty (ÓTOddr 2006, 152; ÓTOddr 2003, 48). And all this applies to a twelve-year-old boy. Erma Gordon thinks that at this age Óláfr could easily undertake a Viking campaign, for—according to the sagas—so did the other future Scandinavian kings (Gordon 1938, 71–73). On the contrary, I tend to see this as a mere stereotype. Fagrskinna, chapter 23, tells that Valdamarr konungr setti Óláf hǫfðingja brátt innan hirðar ok at stjórna hermǫnnum þeim, er vǫrðu lǫnd konungs ok mikluðu ríki Garðamanna. Óláfr
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vann margs konar frægð í Garðaríki ok víða um Austrvegu, í Suðrlǫndum ok í Vestrlǫndum, sem segir Hallfrøðr vandræðaskáld. (Fask 1985, 141)
(King Valdamarr quickly established Óláfr as a chieftain among the retinue and to direct the warriors who defended the king’s lands and increased the dominion of the men of Garðar. Óláfr won many kinds of fame in Garðaríki and further afield east of the Baltic, in the southern lands and the western lands, as Hallfrøðr vandræðaskáld (Troublesome Poet) says.) (Fask 2004, 112)
Among six skaldic strophes that follow, the one by Hallfreðr vandræðaskáld quoted and discussed above (see pp. 26 and 65–66) confirms the fact that Óláfr had been to Rus’ and “caused swords to be reddened in blood” there (Whaley 2012, 395). Snorri Sturluson, following Fagrskinna in his Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar in Heimskringla, chapter 21, speaks of the troops headed by Óláfr that the king “sendi til at verja land sitt” (“sent off to defend his country”) (Hkr 1941, 251; Hkr 2011, 155), but does not dare to repeat that through Óláfr’s efforts the state of Valdamarr increased. Snorri borrows from Oddr only Óláfr’s own detachment which he kept “með sínum kostnaði, þeim er konungr veitti honum” (“with the pay the king gave him”). Of all the military exploits of Óláfr Snorri notes only that he had “nǫkkurar orrostur ok varð herstjórnin vel í hendi” (“some battles there and his command of the troops turned out well”) (Hkr 1941, 251; Hkr 2011, 155). From Oddr, сhapter A-9, Snorri borrows an additional theme—namely, the people’s envy of Óláfr and an attempt to set up the king against him, which finally resulted in Óláfr’s departure from Garðaríki. Slandering Óláfr, people drew the king’s attention to the relationship of Óláfr with the queen: “Vitum vér ok eigi, hvat þau dróttning tala jafnan” (“We also do not know what he and the queen are always talking about”) (Hkr 1941, 251; Hkr 2011, 155). Gwin Jones warns that we should not believe in some special relationship of Óláfr with the foreign queen, as this is a commonplace in the sagas (Jones 1968, 17). In Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, chapter 58, the versions of Oddr and Snorri are contaminated. The stanza from a poem by the late twelfth-century Icelandic skald Hallar-Steinn—“Þessa getr i Rek stefiu” (“So says Rekstefja”) (ÓTM 1958, 110)—which is used by the author of en mesta to confirm the story borrowed from Snorri, does not have any historical value, because it was composed nearly two centuries after the lifetime of Óláfr Tryggvason, and does not confirm the information of those saga fragments in which it has reached us. It is likely that the information about Óláfr was drawn from the sagas about this king of the twelfth century (oral, or maybe written).
The Role of Óláfr Tryggvason in the Conversion of Rus’
In Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by Oddr Snorrason, chapters A-13, S-9 and in en mesta, chapters 76–77, one can find a story of Óláfr’s participation in the conversion of king Valdamarr and the people of Garðaríki to Christianity. Snorri omitted Oddr’s accounts of Óláfr’s prima signatio in Greece and his conversion of Valdamarr (Andersson 1977,
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84). Instead of Oddr’s story about the trip of Óláfr to Greece and his return to Garðaríki with Bishop Paul, Snorri tells how first Óláfr was baptized himself on the islands called Syllingar, and then reports that the skalds or written sources tell of his great deeds, and names those lands that were baptized by Óláfr, Rus’ not being among them (Storm 1873, 137). Let us concentrate on Oddr’s saga and see how the story develops. As a prelude to the story of conversion in Oddr’s Óláfs saga, chapter A-10, one finds a conversation between Óláfr and Valdamarr about pagan gods. Óláfr, being a heathen himself, refuses to enter the temple with King Valdamarr and says: Aldrigi hræðumk ek guð þau er hvárki hafa heyrn né sýn né vit, ok ek má skilja at þau hafa enga grein, ok af því má ek marka, herra, hverrar natúru þau eru at mér sýnisk þú hvert sinn með þekkiligu yfirbragði at af teknum þeim stundum er þú ert þar ok þú fœrir þeim fórnir, en þá lízk mér þú jafnan með ógiptubragði er þú ert þar. Ok af því skil ek at guð þessi er þú gǫfgar munu myrkrunum stýra. (ÓTOddr 2006, 153)
(I have no fear of those gods who have no hearing or sight or wit. I can say that they have no intelligence. And I can distinguish what sort of creatures they are because you always have a fair appearance except at those times when you are at the temple and offer the gods sacrifices. At those times it appears to me that you have an ill-favored look. From that I can tell that the gods you worship govern darkness.) (ÓTOddr 2003, 49)
Elena Rydzevskaya assumes that those patterns which Oddr possibly followed were some Anglo-Saxon legends from the Historia ecclesiastica by Bede, where Christianization of some regions in England is connected with the influence of one king, a Christian, on another, a heathen. The words of king Osvi about Christian and pagan gods and those of Óláfr in Oddr’s saga are similar in contents, but a parallel study of these texts as such is not convincing, since they are, without any doubt, the topoi which one can often find in corresponding literature both of the East and of the West (Rydzevskaya 1935, 14–15). I am sure that the hypothesis of Rydzevskaya is difficult to accept since, as she stresses herself, there exists no evidence of Oddr’s acquaintance with the work of Bede. I assume that the scholar was right to point to the typological similarity between commonplaces in the literature of this genre, regardless of the time and place of its creation. Incidentally, the most striking parallel to the words of Óláfr can be found in the Russian Primary Chronicle under the year 983. The remark there is put into the mouth of a Varangian (a Scandinavian) who had immigrated to Rus’ from Greece and adhered to the Christian faith. He says: Не суть то бози, но древо; днесь есть, а утро изъгнило есть, не ядять бо, ни пьють, ни молвять, но суть дѣлани руками въ древѣ секирою и ножемъ. А Богъ единъ есть, емуже служать грѣци и кланяются, иже створилъ небо,
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и землю, и человѣка, и зъвѣзды, и солнце, и луну, и далъ есть жити на земли. И си бози что сдѣлаша? Сами дѣлани суть. (PVL 1996, 58)
(These are not gods, but only idols of wood. Today it is, and tomorrow it will rot away. These gods do not eat, or drink, or speak; they are fashioned by hand out of wood. But the God whom the Greeks serve and worship is one; it is he who has made heaven and earth, the stars, the moon, the sun, and mankind, and has granted him life upon earth. But what have these gods created? They are themselves manufactured.) (RPC 1930, 95)
Oddr’s story of Óláfr continues thus. People envied Óláfr so he left Garðaríki and harried in the Baltic. When he decided to come back there was a contrary wind, so he turned to Wendland where he got married to Queen Geira. Three years later Geira died and Óláfr harried in Denmark and then, according to Oddr, came back to Rus’. Scholars are practically unanimous in their conclusion that Óláfr’s second visit to Rus’ has no historical base, that it is full of contradictions, has no chronology, and can not be put together with the rest of the saga both in Oddr’s version and in en mesta (Rydzevskaya 1935, 11). Samuel H. Cross calls this episode “une contamination romantique” (Cross 1931, 146). As it is told in Oddr’s saga, chapter A-13, Óláfr, during his second stay in Rus’, had visions of heaven and hell and a voice advised him to seek the name of his Lord in Greece. Scholars have found parallels in the Bible to Óláfr’s vision, as well as to many other motifs in this saga. Thus, Erma Gordon finds nearly the same vision in the Bible in the appearance of God to Saul on the road to Damascus (Gordon 1938, 42). Lars Lönnroth believes that the words of the Lord addressed to Óláfr have a parallel in the words of the Lord in the Chronicle of Pseudo-Turpin (Lönnroth 1963, 86). The saga tells that after being instructed in the Christian faith in Greece (the so-called “prima signatio”), Óláfr returned to Garðaríki and converted the king and queen to the new religion: “Ok með heilsamligum rœðum dróttningar, er hon gaf til þessa hlutar, at fulltingjandi Guðs miskunn, þá játti konungr ok allir menn hans at taka heilagra skírn ok rétta trú, ok varð þar allt fólk kristit” (“With the queen’s propitious advice, which she gave in support of God’s mercy, the king and all his men accepted holy baptism and the true faith, and all the people converted to Christianity”) (ÓTOddr 2006, 165; ÓTOddr 2003, 55). The question naturally arises if there is anything behind these stories of Oddr? Does the saga convey any information that is worth our attention? Historiographical opinions towards this material vary greatly. Some scholars accepted the saga version with reservations (Baumgarten 1932); others considered the second trip of Óláfr to Rus’ and his participation in the baptism of this country as something completely apocryphal (Rydzevskaya 1930s, 212n190). The role of Óláfr Tryggvason in the conversion of Rus’, as presented by Oddr Snorrason, contradicts the material of many reliable historical sources and does not stand up to criticism. But the indirect information behind this story of Oddr is quite real: Byzantium was known in the Scandinavian north as the centre of Eastern Christianity and as the starting point for its spread in Rus’ in the time of Vladimir Svyatoslavich. The possibility of some mediation in this process by Scandinavian Vikings
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is also not completely excluded. “The Varangians, undoubtedly, could on occasion accept Christianity in Byzantium and even have in this respect some influence on that layer of the Old Russian society with which they were most closely connected, that is, on the princely, military and merchant milieu, but this influence, in all likelihood, was only a minor accompanying phenomenon in the field of interests that connected them with Byzantium and Rus’, much more relevant to them than the questions of religion” (Rydzevskaya 1935, 20). As for Óláfr Tryggvason, his participation in the baptism of Rus’ seems to me nothing more than an invention of the saga author, but one quite justified in the light of his role as baptizer of the northern part of the world, which is attributed to him by tradition (Fidjestøl 1997a). A number of sources from the twelfth century depict him as the baptizer of several countries—namely, Norway, Iceland, and Greenland, and the Shetland, Orkney, and Faroe Islands. Lars Lönnroth put forward a suggestion (Lönnroth 1963, 93), shared by other scholars (cf. Andersson 1985, 226), that the celebration of Óláfr Tryggvason by the monks Oddr and Gunnlaugr was mainly caused by an Icelandic national interest in promoting their own missionary king as an equal to the Norwegian missionary king Óláfr Haraldsson. The fróðir menn in Iceland were aware of the fact that Iceland had been converted at the time of Óláfr Tryggvason, which is why in the late twelfth century “a Latin biography was written in which Óláfr was pictured as a holy warrior and rex iustus, empowered by Divine Grace to destroy paganism in the northern countries and establish the Kingdom of God” (Lönnroth 1965, 17). Oddr Snorrason, in his Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar, creates an image of a king “er at retto ma kallazt postoli Norðmanna” (“who may rightly be called the apostle of the Norwegians”) (ÓTOddr 1932, 261, chapter 78, redaction U; ÓTOddr 2003, 149). There is no doubt that Oddr had caused Óláfr to become involved in the baptism of the Russian prince and the people of Old Rus’ in order to glorify his hero. It is worth noting that the compiler of Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta supplemented the story of the conversion of Rus’ borrowed from the saga of Oddr with the following reasoning: Þessir lutir sem nu voro sagðir vm kristni boðan Olafs Tryɢva sonar i Garða ʀiki ero eigi v truanlighir þviat eín bok aa giæt ok sann froð er heitir Ymago mundi kveðr skyrt aa at þessar þioðir er sva heíta. Rvsci. Polaui. Vngaríj. kristnaðvz aa dỏgum Ottonis þess er hinn .iij. var keisari með þvi nafni. Sumar bækr segia at Otto keisari hafi farit með her sinn j Austr ueg ok brotit þar folk viða til kristni ok með honum Olafr Tryggva s(on). (ÓTM 1958, 158)
(What has now been said of the Christian preaching of Óláfr Tryggvason in Garðaríki is not untrue, as the excellent and true book that is named Imago mundi tells distinctly that those peoples that are called Rusci, Polaui, Vngaríj were baptized in the days of that Otto who was the third emperor with this name. Some books tell that Emperor Otto has waged war in the Austrvegr and brought people there far and wide to Christianity, and Óláfr Tryggvason was with him.)
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The learned book referred to here is the early twelfth-century Imago mundi by Honorius Augustodunensis, who recounts that in the time of Henrich II’s rule “Russians, Poles, and Hungarians became Christians” (“Ruzi, Polani et Ungarii facti sunt Christiani”) (HonAug 1852, 130, 133). Honorius possibly wanted to indicate that the powerful non-Christian peoples had been converted to Christianity. He did not, however, mention the differences between the denomination of Rus’ on the one hand and of Poland and Hungary on the other. Neither had he made any notice of Óláfr Tryggvason’s participation in these events. But Oddr must have had reasons for creating this story. First, he could have had knowledge about contacts of Scandinavians with Rus’ and Byzantium. Second, he could have heard the legend about the Christianization of Rus’ from Byzantium, which was connected with the name of Prince Vladimir. It is likely that Oddr had to send Óláfr for the second time to Rus’ in his saga because he knew that, according to the Russian legend, the Christianization of that country took place later than the time when Óláfr, as a child, had been there, according to the Scandinavian tradition. These data could reach Iceland by means of oral transmission via those Scandinavians who were warriors and traders on the famous “route from the Varangians to the Greeks.” Thus, we can assert that Oddr also had a Greek-Varangian scheme which, though different from the one of the Russian Primary Chronicle, had certain similarities with it and must have grown out of the same roots. We have traced Óláfr Tryggvason’s life in Rus’ as it is represented in Icelandic sagas. We have tried to demonstrate the inadequate reliability of this data. As one can see, the grain of truth is small. Óláfr Tryggvason’s stay in Rus’ is testified by one skaldic stanza only. His participation in military service with Vladimir Svyatoslavich can be considered quite probable, but the extent of this participation is undoubtedly overstated by saga authors in accordance with the stereotyped portrayal of Norwegian kings outside their own country. Crediting Óláfr with the decisive role in the conversion of Prince Vladimir and the people of Rus’ to Christianity serves the intention of Oddr Snorrason, the author of the Latin saga about this king, to present Óláfr Tryggvason as the apostle of the north. The indirect information of this narration is nonetheless remarkable: it indicates that in the late twelfth century people in Iceland knew that the baptism of Rus’ had happened during the reign of Prince Vladimir and that at least some Varangians (Scandinavians) had had a hand in it.
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Chapter 12
ÓLÁFR HARALDSSON IT WAS A short period of time—from the autumn of 1029 to the spring of 1030—that Óláfr Haraldsson (ca. 995–1030), the Norwegian king from 1014 to 1028,1 the unifier and Christianizer of Norway, spent, according to the Old Norse sources, in Old Rus’.2 More decisive and consistent than that of his predecessors’ struggle against paganism, the reduction of traditional “freedoms” with the aim of strengthening the king’s power, such as changes in the veizla system, led to a rupture between him and a large part of the old nobility, as well as the landowners who joined them. Óláfr’s opponents inside the country took the side of the king of England and Denmark, Cnut the Great (990–1035), who had laid claim to the throne of Norway. His defeat in the war against Denmark forced Óláfr to leave Norway, to flee to Sweden and further to Rus’. An attempt to regain power in Norway ended with his fall in the Battle of Stiklestad (Stiklastaðir) on 29 July 1030. Cnut the Great (sagas call him Knútr inn ríki) became the king of Norway and appointed Sven (Sveinn), his son from a concubine named Ælfgifu (Álfífa), to rule the country (see Bagge 1991, 34–43, 181–86). The process of Óláfr’s sanctification began almost immediately after the battle,3 and according to Adam of Bremen (II:61) St. Óláfr’s feast had by ca. 1070 been “worthily recalled with eternal veneration on the part of all the peoples of the Northern Ocean, the Norwegians, Swedes, Goths, Sembi, Danes, and Slavs” (“Agitur festivitas eius IIIIo kal. Augusti, omnibus septentrionalis occeani populis Nortmannorum, Sueonum, Gothorum, Semborum, Danorum atque Sclavorum aeterno cultu memorabilis”) (Adam 1917, 122; Adam 2002, 97). The establishment of St. Óláfr’s cult resulted not only in the local production of liturgical books, but also in the appearance of his Life (vita) and a collection of his miracles (cf. Holtsmark 1937). The miracles performed by Óláfr are mentioned already in skaldic poems composed soon after his death. These are Glælognskviða (Sea-calm Poem) by Þórarinn loftunga (“praise-tongue”) dated to 1031–1035, Þórðr Sjóreksson’s Róðudrápa (Rood-poem), and Sigvatr Þórðarson’s Erfidrápa (Memorial Poem) dated to the early 1040s. John Lindow has argued very convincingly “that a miracle presented in skaldic language was to some ears a more powerful miracle than one recounted in prose or in the language of the church” (Lindow 2008, 120). Still, skaldic miracles were not a part of written culture, and thus we should date the appearance of the miracula not before a century after Óláfr’s death. Numerous miracles performed by the king are described in the poem Geisli (Sunbeam) by the Icelandic priest Einarr Skúlason, which he 1 There are discrepancies among scholars on this matter, but the date of Óláfr’s rule does not come out beyond 1013–1030.
2 For a more detailed description of Óláfr’s stay in Old Rus’ and a more complete bibliography, see Jackson 2000, 51–91. 3 On the reasons for his beatification, see Melnikova 2016.
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recited in Christ’s Church in Nidaros in the winter of 1152/1153; this, along with other source material, indicates the existence of a group of ten “basic miracles” before the establishment of the archdiocese of Nidaros, which means that the miracles were “perhaps written down in the 1140s, or even earlier” (cf. Mortensen 2000, 97; Mortensen, Mundal 2003, 363–68). The collection of miracles underwent certain changes thereafter, and after Eysteinn Erlendsson (Archbishop of Nidaros in 1161–1188) extended the Passio Olavi and updated the miracles in the 1170s or 1180s, the collection included forty-nine (fifty) miracles. Alongside the Passio Olavi, Óláfr’s miracles are recounted in a number of vernacular texts, such as the Old Norwegian Homily Book (comprising a short vita and twenty-one miracles), in the Legendary Saga of St. Óláfr, in Snorri Sturluson’s Separate Saga, and in Heimskringla. The secular history of Óláfr Haraldsson developed alongside the ecclesiastical; partly independent, partly intertwined with it. The first to be named are the works of the founders of Icelandic-Norwegian historiography Sæmundr Sigfússson and Ari Þorgilsson. On the basis of their works, skaldic verses, and oral tradition there appeared in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries two types of sagas about St. Óláfr: some of them presented the history of the king as one of the links in Norwegian history (Historia de antiquitate regum Norwagiensium, Ágrip af Noregskonunga sǫgum, Fagrskinna, Heimskringla), others as something completely independent (the Oldest Saga of St. Óláfr, Legendary Saga of St. Óláfr, Styrmir Kárason’s *Óláfs saga helga, Snorri’s Separate Saga). Although they have much in common, they are nevertheless so different that they are two separate groups of texts. Óláfr Haraldsson is a great-great-grandson in the male line of the founder of the dynasty of Norwegian kings Haraldr inn hárfagri (the Fine-Haired, d. 931), the second cousin of his predecessor Óláfr Tryggvason, the fourth-born brother of his successor, Haraldr inn harðráði (the Harsh Ruler). Ólafr Haraldsson was born in 995, that very year when his father, Haraldr inn grenski (the Greenlander), a king in Vestfold, was burned, together with a certain “Vísivaldr from Garðaríki in the east” by the Swedish queen Sigríðr in stórráða. Óláfr’s mother, Ásta Guðbrandsdóttir, soon after the death of Haraldr the Greenlander married his second cousin, Sigurðr sýr (Pig), a king in Hringaríki (Ringerike), who brought up Óláfr Haraldsson. The boy was baptized, according to Snorri Sturluson, at the age of three by Óláfr Tryggvason. In his youth he harried in many places in Denmark, Sweden, the Eastern Baltic, and England, and, according to the internal chronology of Heimskringla, in the autumn of 1014 Óláfr returned to Norway. On his return, Óláfr immediately drove Jarl Hákon Eiríksson out of the country, and before Palm Sunday of 1015 the Battle of Nesjar took place in which he defeated Jarl Sveinn Hákonarson. And having done this, Óláfr became the sole ruler of the country. Thus, he annulled the split of Norway between Sweden and Denmark established after the victory of their joint forces over the Norwegian king Óláfr Tryggvason at the Battle of Svǫlðr in 1000. We shall now dwell on Óláfr Haraldson’s attempt to solve the Swedish–Norwegian border conflict by marrying Ingigerðr, the daughter of Óláfr sœnski (the Swedish) Eiríksson, king of the Swedes, which led to his marriage to her half-sister Ástríðr, and most importantly to his becoming mágar (“relatives through marriage”) with the
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Russian prince Yaroslav the Wise. Then we shall dwell on the reasons for Óláfr’s flight from Norway to Rus’, and on the sources that confirm this fact. After that we shall analyze the four miracles of St. Óláfr reported to have happened in Rus’. Finally, we shall consider his decision to return to his homeland, his parting with the Russian prince and princess, and leaving his young son Magnús in their care.
Óláfr’s Relations with Yaroslav The Wise and Ingigerðr
Restoring the integrity of Norway caused endless border conflicts between Sweden and Norway during the reign of Óláfr Haraldsson. In 1017 he attempted to solve the Norwegian–Swedish border conflict, and as one of the ways to achieve peace he saw the matchmaking of Ingigerðr, the daughter of Óláfr sœnski (the Swedish). His wooing, however, had no success, and as we have seen above, Ingigerðr became the wife of King Jarizleifr (see pp. 88–90), but at the same time Óláfr married the second daughter of Óláfr sœnski, Ingigerðr’s half-sister Ástríðr. Both marriages are registered in the Icelandic annals under the year 1019 (IA 1888, 106). These events did not improve the relations of the two namesakes, but as a result, the Norwegian king Óláfr Haraldsson and the Russian prince Yaroslav the Wise entered into a very remarkable relationship of mágsemð (“affinity”) that was important in medieval Scandinavia. Medieval marriage served as a means of linking families and family fortunes, as the grounds of mutual support of family members, as a mechanism of increasing the political significance of these families, and as a basis for political alliances. Kirsten Hastrup’s conclusion is that “affinal relationships, once established, were treated conceptually almost as consanguineal relationships at one remove” (Hastrup 1985, 92). In fact, step by step, marriage bonds (affinal relationships) in medieval Scandinavia became more important than cognatic kinship, because they could be used for strengthening alliances arising in view of certain political interests (Jón Viðar Sigurðsson 1989, 108 ff.; Meulengracht Sørensen 1977, 40; Bagge 1991, 119; Sawyer, Sawyer 1996, 169–70; Jackson 2003a). In addition to the fact that the Norwegian and Russian rulers became mágar, the sagas point to the existence between Óláfr and his former bride—now the wife of Yaroslav the Wise—Ingigerðr of some kind of warm feelings and mutual affection (see Braun 1924, 182–85; Jackson 2001b). A hint of this kind can be found in the final words of Eymundar þáttr, as well as in some earlier sources—namely, in Historia by Theodoricus, Ágrip, Fagrskinna and Morkinskinna (see below, pp. 146–47) I tend to believe that the basis for the origin in the Old Norse prose literature of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries of a motif of “secret love” between Óláfr Haraldsson and Ingigerðr was their actual attitude to each other, which was originally verbally expressed in a skaldic stanza (mansǫngr) composed by the king himself (see above, p. 89).
Óláfr’s Flight to Garðaríki
Almost all Old Norse narrative sources that describe the life of Óláfr Haraldsson report his flight from his political opponents in Norway to Old Rus’. Moreover, Óláfr’s
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connections with Rus’ are mentioned by the Icelandic skalds Sigvatr Þórðarson and Bjarni gullbrárskáld, which—due to the specific nature of skaldic poetry—does not allow one to doubt the reliability of a fact like this that is unknown to Old Russian sources. The reason for the escape from Norway is indicated already in the early sources: Theodoricus monachus reports that Cnut arrived “cum innumerabili exercitu” (“with an immense force”) (Theodoricus 1880, 30; Theodoricus 1998, 22), and in the Passio Olavi it is said that “he could not oppose the multitude of evil” and, “thinking the moment required it, he withdrew into Russia till the Lord should deign to find a time suitable for him to fulfill his desire and purpose” (“donec illorum multitudini resistere non ualens secesit in rusciam, oportunum ratus cedere tempori, donec uoluntati sue ac proposito tempus idoneum dominus conferre dignaretur”) (Passio 1881, 71; Passio 2001, 29). Snorri Sturluson specifies that after the Battle of Helgeå (1026) “fannsk þat brátt, at landfólkit myndi þá vera snúit frá einurðinni við konung” (“it soon became apparent that the people of the country must now have turned from loyalty to the king”) (Hkr 1945, 303; Hkr 2014, 204). Cnut the Great, having gathered an army, sailed to Norway; he called Þing assemblies and was accepted as king; he gave revenues and money to his followers. King Cnut “hafði þá lagt land allt undir sik í Nóregi” (“subjected all the land in Norway to himself”) (Hkr 1945, 306; Hkr 2014, 206). After Cnut had sailed to Denmark Óláfr had his last battle in Norway, against Erlingr Skjálgsson, who was taken captive and killed against the king’s will. The sons of Erlingr were collecting troops, and Jarl Hákon was awaiting Óláfr in Trondheim, so his exile became inevitable, and through a heap of fallen stones near Lesjar he found his inland way to Sweden. “Óláfr konungr hafði þá verit konungr í Nóregi fimmtán vetr með þeim vetri, er þeir Sveinn jarl váru báðir í landi” (“King Óláfr had now been king in Norway fifteen winters including the winter when both he and Jarl Sveinn were in the country”) (Hkr 1945, 326; Hkr 2014, 219), says Snorri. Thus, by the end of 1028 Óláfr Haraldsson had been the king of Norway for fifteen years (1014–1028), and a sole ruler for fourteen years (1015–1028) after Jarl Sveinn left the country in the spring of 1015. King Óláfr came overland to Sweden and spent the spring there, “en er sumraði, þá bjó konungr ferð sína ok fekk sér skip” (“but when summer came, then the king set out on his journey and got himself a ship”) (Hkr 1945, 328; Hkr 2014, 220). He sailed to Garðaríki and was there in the summer or autumn of 1029. The reason for Óláfr’s choosing Rus’ as a place of a temporary shelter from the troops of Cnut and his accompanying Norwegian forces is obvious: these are family ties through marriages between Yaroslav and Óláfr, for they were, as noted above, married to sisters, Ingigerðr and Ástríðr, respectively. I think that the flight to Rus’ of the Norwegian leaders who were defeated in the struggle for power in their homeland can just as well be explained by the active participation of Rus’ in the political life of Scandinavia (Sverdlov 1974, 62). The sources tell about Óláfr’s fellow travellers (the most complete list of them is given by the Oldest Saga), about the route (through Sweden), and the timing of his travel (he was in Sweden in winter, in spring/summer he went east to Garðaríki where he spent the next winter). Significantly different in this part is the information from
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Guta saga, the only surviving Swedish saga. It says that Óláfr “flyandi af Norvegi miþ skipum” (“came fleeing from Norway with his ships”)—while in all other sources he moved to Sweden by land and only there did he take a ship—sailed to Gotland (which also is not mentioned in the Icelandic sagas), and after a long stay on the island sailed to Hólmgarðr (Guta saga 1999, 8/9). There is a pretty logical view that the compiler of Guta saga had conflated information about two or more visits of Óláfr to Gotland (Pernler 1981, 102–3). Lack of detail and the laconicism with which Óláfr’s life in Rus’ is described clearly indicate that saga authors did not have any specific information on this matter. Theodoricus monachus tells that Óláfr “remained for one year” in Rus’ where he “was treated with honour and the utmost courtesy by King Jaroslav” (“Moratus est ibi anno uno honorifice et officiosissime a rege Jaritzlavo susceptus”) (Theodoricus 1880, 30; Theodoricus 1998, 23); Passio Olavi claims that he “stayed there for some time,” and notes that Óláfr “was nobly received by Jaroslav” and “left the inhabitants with a model of upright life and a famous recollection of his piety, charity, kindness and patience” (“Clarissimus igitur christi martir ingressus russiam, a iarzellauo, eiusdem prouincie rege magnifico, gloriose susceptus, et in honore amplissimo, quamdiu ibi morari uoluit, habitus est. Ubi non paruo tempore demoratus, honestam uite formam, et sue religionis, caritatis, benignitatis, et patiencie celebre monimentum incolis reliquit”) (Passio 1881, 71–72; Passio 2001, 30); Fagrskinna also says that Óláfr “fekk þar góðar viðtǫkur” (“was well received there”), and both Fagrskinna and the Oldest Saga only mention that he “var þar annan vetr” (“stayed there the second winter”) (Fask 1985, 198; Fask 2004, 158). The Legendary Saga develops this motif and describes the hearty welcome by Jarizleifr and Ingigerðr, who ask Óláfr “to take such part of their state as he wants,” which Óláfr accepts: “Oc baðo hann hava slict af sinu riki sem hann villdi. Olafr konongr let væl ivir þæirra boðe oc viðvære” (“And asked him to take such part of their state as he wanted. King Óláfr expressed himself favourably about their suggestion and hospitality”) (ÓHLeg 1922, 73). Snorri, following the author of the Legendary Saga, still specifies: “Jarizleifr konungr fagnaði vel Óláfi konungi ok bauð honum með sér at vera ok hafa þar land til slíks kostnaðar sem hann þurfti at halda lið sitt með. Þat þekkðisk Óláfr konungr ok dvalðisk þar” (“King Jarizleifr welcomed King Óláfr and invited him to stay with him and to have land there to provide such maintenance as he needed to keep his troops on. King Óláfr accepted this and stayed there”) (Hkr 1945, 328; Hkr 2014, 220). The tendency of saga authors to exaggerate the role of a noble Scandinavian in Rus’ is even more evident in Snorri Sturluson’s story of Óláfr’s departure from Rus’ that will be discussed further. Actual confirmation of Óláfr Haraldsson’s stay in Rus’ (Garðar) is considered to be skaldic poetry reporting this, and one such stanza, cited by saga authors, belongs to the Icelandic mid-eleventh-century skald Bjarni Hallbjarnarson, nicknamed gullbrárskáld, and comes from his sole surviving poem composed ca. 1050, Kálfsflokkr. Snorri Sturluson tells how after the departure of Óláfr Haraldsson lendr menn (“landed men, district chieftains”) in Norway continued taking the side of Cnut the Great. Kálfr Árnason, one of those who had parted from King Óláfr, “fór á fund Knúts konungs, þegar er hann kom til
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Englands” (“went to see King Knútr as soon as he got to England”) (Hkr 1945, 333; Hkr 2014, 223). To verify his words, Snorri quotes stanza 3 from Kálfsflokkr: Austr réð allvaldr rísta ótála haf stáli; varð at vitja Garða vígmóðr Haralds bróðir. Enn of íðnir manna emkak tamr at samna skrǫkvi; at skilnað ykkarn skjótt lézt Knút of sóttan.
(The mighty ruler undoubtedly set about carving the ocean eastwards with the prow; {the battle-weary brother of Haraldr} [= Óláfr] had to make his way to Garðar. But I am not ready to gather false stories about people’s actions; after your parting you quickly went to seek out Knútr.) (Finlay 2012b, 882)4
The contents of the stanza, however, is wider, as it says, among other things, that “the battle-weary brother of Haraldr,” i.e., Haraldr’s half-brother Óláfr Haraldsson, “had to make his way to Garðar,” which points to the forced flight of Óláfr to Rus’. As one might think, it speaks of the last years of Óláfr’s life, and not about his youth, since only by the end of his reign did district chieftains start joining King Cnut. The description of Óláfr’s stay in Rus’ is limited to the description of his miracles, which is discussed next.
Miracles of St. Óláfr in Old Rus’
Among the above-mentioned miracles performed by St. Óláfr, four are reported to have happened in Old Rus’.5 One of them is related by an eleventh-century Icelandic skald alone. The second one is narrated only in the sagas of Óláfr Haraldsson, while the third and the fourth miracles appear in both “ecclesiastical” texts and “historical” works (to use Carl Phelpstead’s terminology) (Passio 2001, xli). The first “Russian” miracle is mentioned only in Erfidrápa Óláfs helga (“Memorial drápa for St. Óláfr”), by his chief skald, the Icelander Sigvatr Þórðarson (ca. 995–1045). Stanza 23 of this poem is quoted by Snorri Sturluson in his Óláfs saga helga—in a separate saga, in Heimskringla, and in compilations—in order to verify his story of Óláfr’s hair and nails growing as they did when he was alive: “Byskup varðveitti helgan dóm Óláfs konungs, skar hár hans ok negl, því at hvárt tveggja óx svá sem þá, at hann væri lifandi maðr í þessum heimi. Svá segir Sigvatr skáld” (“The bishop looked after King Óláfr’s holy remains, cutting his hair and his nails, for both went on growing just like when he was a living person in this world. So says the poet Sigvatr”) (Hkr 1945, 405; Hkr 2014, 271). Here follows the strophe: 4 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia.
5 For more information, see Jackson 2010, part of which is reproduced here by kind permission of Brepols Publishers.
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Lýgk, nema Ôleifr eigi ýs sem kykvir tívar (gœðik helzt í hróðri) hárvǫxt (konungs ôru). Enn helzk, þeims sýn seldi, svǫrðr, * es óx, í Gǫrðum, (hann fekk læs) af ljósum (lausn) Valdamar, hausi.
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(I lie unless Óláfr has hair-growth like {living gods of the yew-bow} [WARRIORS]; I benefit especially the servants of the king in [this] poem. There is still the hair that grew on the bright skull of the one who granted sight to Vladimir in Garðar [Óláfr]; he got relief from disability.”) (Jesch 2012a, 692)6
The strophe thus contains information not only on the growth of Óláfr’s hair after his death, but also on Óláfr’s miracle. Scholars are not unanimous in understanding this miracle as a posthumous one or the one performed in Óláfr’s lifetime, nor in assessing the character of this miraculous healing: whether the healing resulted in the restitution of Valdamarr’s eyesight, or whether Valdamarr was relieved from pain and suffering. Still, the most complicated issue in this connection is the figure of Valdamarr mentioned by the skald. The study of a broader context is of little help here, as there is no information in the sagas about any blindness or suffering of a man called Valdamarr who would have been healed by Óláfr Haraldsson in Rus’. Anne Holtsmark suggests that the skald might have been referring to the story of Óláfs saga helga of St. Óláfr’s healing in Hólmgarðr a boy with a boil in his throat, although the boy was not named in the saga (Holtsmark 1937, 122n2).7 If we check the indexes to Heimskringla translations, we may notice that some editors leave the name Valdamarr without any comments (Hkr 1945, 477). Some note that it is “a certain man in Rus’,”8 while others identify him either with the Russian prince Vladimir Yaroslavich9 or with his grandfather, Vladimir Svyatoslavich.10 “Whatever the interpretation of the miraculous event may be,” writes Elena Melnikova, “the most important thing about the miracle-story itself is the localization of the event”: a decade after the death of the holy king, the Icelandic skald tells the story about St. Óláfr healing a Russian (Valdamarr) in Rus’ (í Görðum). In her opinion, “it is hardly probable that such a story could have originated in the milieu other than Scandinavian residents in and travellers to Rus’.” Correspondingly, “they must have had permanent and tight connections with Norway for the news of Óláfr’s canonization to reach them and for its echo, a story about St. Óláfr’s miracle, to return to Norway by 1040” (Melnikova 1997a, 456). I am afraid this elegant construction comes to nothing because of the name Valdamarr used by the skald. 6 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia. 7 See below about the second “Russian” miracle.
8 Hkr 1980, 652n174; Melnikova 1996b, 95 (“a certain Valdamarr, a Russian, judging from his name”); cf. Lindow 2008, 119 (“one Valdamar of Russia”). 9 Hkr 1932, 469: “Valdamar, the eldest son of King Jarizleif of Russia”; сf. Pritsak 1981, 277: “Valdamar, son of Yaroslav.” 10 Hkr 1964, 853: “Valdamar (king of Gartharíki).”
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The stories of miraculous healings (gaining sight among them) usually have nameless characters: “a certain boy,” “a certain matron,” “a certain priest,” and so on. Most notably this is the case with the collection of miracles in the Passio Olavi (Passio 1881, passim); but in the sagas we also encounter situations when “a blind beggar gained sight,” “two blind people gain sight and a mute his speech,” etc. (see Whaley 1987). These stories are stereotypical in character, and if they include any names then they are the names of places and peoples, demonstrating the geographical spread of the miraculous powers of the saint. In those cases when an object of Óláfr’s miracle is called by name, this is inevitably an atypical miracle. The character is someone well known; for instance, the Norwegian magnate Þórir hundr (whose wounds were healed by Óláfr’s blood), King Magnús the Good (assisted by his father in the battle against the Wends), or Haraldr Sigurðarson (released from prison in Byzantium by a lady on St. Óláfr’s request) (Hkr 1945, 387; Hkr 1951, 43–45 and 85–87). The saga story of healing the boy with a boil in his throat is stylistically similar to all other stories of miraculous healings. It is hardly possible that this saga character, unlike others healed by Óláfr, should have had a name, moreover a name preserved by the skald in oral tradition. That is why I find it difficult to agree with Anne Holtsmark (see above, p. 137). But even without any connection with the story of healing the boy in Hólmgarðr, the Valdamarr named by Sigvatr is absolutely atypical of this context. Only the name of someone very well known would have been mentioned. All Russian names that we know of from the sagas are the names of Russian princes, their wives, and children; even Kaldimarr from Bjarnar saga Hítdælakappa, an invented character with an invented name, is said to be a relative of “konungr Valdimarr” (Bjarnar saga 1938, 120). There are not many of these names, and Valdamarr/Valdimarr stands out, as this is the name of three Russian princes familiar to the sagas: Vladimir Svyatoslavich (prince of Kiev, 978–1015), Vladimir Yaroslavich (prince of Novgorod, 1034/1036– 1052), and Vladimir Vsevolodovich Monomakh (prince of Kiev, 1113–1125). This name also passes on to the dynasty of Danish kings—namely, to the great-grandson of Vladimir Monomakh, the Danish king Valdemar I (1157–1182). Out of three Russian konungar with the name Valdamarr, the best known is Vladimir Svyatoslavich. Sagas do not give the name of his father, which is not typical, for the sagas are very keen on genealogies. But he is sometimes nicknamed “the Old” in the sagas, which reminds us of “Óðinn the Old,” the forefather of Scandinavian gods. Thus, this Valdamarr is thought to be the founder of the Russian ruling dynasty. He is also famous for having been the foster father of Óláfr Tryggvason (see chapter 11). Furthermore, he is the only Russian ruler mentioned in skaldic poetry—namely in Bandadrápa 6 composed by Eyjólfr dáðaskáld (see above, p. 87). The situation with the other two Valdamarrs is more complicated, as the sagas of the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries (with the exception of the S redaction of Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar by Oddr Snorrason) confuse Valdamarr, a son of Yaroslav the Wise, with Valdamarr, a grandson of Yaroslav (see above, pp. 118–19). So, we can be sure that by the time of Sigvatr Þórðarson the only Russian with the name Valdamarr well known in Scandinavia was Prince Vladimir Svyatoslavich, famous for—and this is attested to by the sagas as well—having brought early Rus’ to Christianity (see above, pp. 126–30). In its narrative about this prince, the Russian Primary Chronicle includes the story of his temporary blindness (“По Божью же устрою в се время разболѣся Володимеръ
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очима, и не видяше ничтоже, и тужаше велми, и не домышляшеться, что створити”; “By divine agency, Vladimir was suffering at that moment from a disease of the eyes, and could see nothing, being in great distress”), and of his subsequent baptism and the return of his eyesight as a result (“Яко възложи руку на нь, абье прозрѣ”; “and as the Bishop laid his hand upon him, he straightway received his sight”) (PVL 1996, 50; RPC 1930, 200–1). Alexander Nazarenko shows that the blindness motif had not been originally present in the so-called Kherson legend of Vladimir’s baptism, but was added to it from a somewhat older Life of St. Vladimir that might have existed at least in oral tradition. He finds traces of this hypothetical Life in Latin works of the early eleventh century, in particular in the Chronicon by Thietmar of Merseburg (completed before 1018) and the Life of St. Romuald by Peter Damian (written between 1026 and 1030). Thus, the Life of St. Vladimir seems to have been popular in the first decades of the eleventh century (Nazarenko 2001, 435–50). The skald Sigvatr was surely not familiar with the dates of the lives of Russian princes. He barely knew much about Óláfr’s trip to Rus’ except that the Norwegian king had left for the court of konungr Jarizleifr Valdamarsson. Sigvatr was hardly bothering himself with chronological accuracy in his poems. Sigvatr himself had never been to Rus’ (according to Austrfararvísur, he travelled no further east than to Gautland); neither was he in Norway at Óláfr’s court when the king left for Rus’, came back, and was killed in his last battle (the skald was on pilgrimage to Rome at that time). Sigvatr expressed his sorrow for the dead king in a number of lausavísur, and around 1040 he composed the Erfidrápa. What is important is that still in Óláfr’s lifetime, as Russell Poole has demonstrated, Sigvatr “composed verses (Nesjavísur), pointedly and programmatically associating Óláfr with Christ” (Poole 2004). Why could not Óláfr then, godlike and luminiferous, “return eyesight” (I mean, in Sigvatr’s poem) to Valdamarr í Görðum, as the oral story of Vladimir’s baptism (keeping in mind that Vladimir was popular in Scandinavia) could have been brought to the Scandinavian north by those who travelled along “the route from the Varangians to the Greeks”? I think that what we observe here in the poem is the historical tradition developed from different available stories, but with inevitable chronological mistakes. To my mind, the skald Sigvatr not only synchronized (in strophe 15) Óláfr’s death at Stiklestad with the eclipse of the sun (“as parallel to Christ’s Passion”)—which, as astronomers have calculated, “occurred on 31 August 1030, little more than a month after the battle” (see Lindow 2008, 118)—but also, based on his knowledge of earlier displays of Óláfr’s saintly powers to restore sight to the blind (which he mentions in strophe 24), ascribed to the king the restoration of the sight of the famous Russian prince Vladimir Svyatoslavich, Valdamarr í Görðum. This chronological conflation is quite evident to us today, but was hardly clear to the Icelandic skald and his audience. The second “Russian” miracle is that of the healing of the boy with a boil in his throat in Garðaríki. On the one hand, it is not included in the collection of miracles in the Passio Olavi; on the other hand, it is the only “Russian” miracle related by Snorri Sturluson.11 11 Elena Melnikova erroneously insists that this miracle story is attested to in the Legendary Saga of St. Óláfr only (Melnikova 1997a, 456). However, it also occurs in Snorri’s Separate Saga, in Heimskringla, and in compilations.
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This is the miracle mentioned above, the one that Anne Holtsmark thought was meant by Sigvatr when he spoke in his Erfidrápa about the healing of Valdamarr. This story, no doubt, presents Óláfr’s miraculous powers during his lifetime. As Carl Phelpstead has noted, “Robert Folz’s comparative study of European royal saints demonstrates that it is not at all unusual for a royal saint to have few miracles attributed to the period during which he was alive on earth” (Passio 2001, xliv). Moreover, the majority of a royal saint’s miracles would be healings, which is true of the miracles of St. Óláfr. Snorri Sturluson tells that “this event took place in Garðaríki, while King Óláf was there, that a high-born widow’s son got an abscess in his throat.” The boy could no longer swallow any food, “and he seemed like to die. The boy’s mother went to Queen Ingigerðr, for she was an acquaintance of hers, and showed her the boy” (“Svá er sagt, at sá atburðr varð í Garðaríki, þá er Óláfr konungr var þar, at sonr einnar gǫfugrar ekkju fekk kverkasull ok sótti svá mjǫk, at sveinninn mátti engum mat niðr koma, ok þótti hann banvænn. Móðir sveinsins gekk til Ingigerðar dróttningar, því at hon var kunnkona hennar, ok sýndi henni sveininn”) (Hkr 2014, 228; Hkr 1945, 341). A comparison of the Legendary Saga with Snorri’s saga demonstrates how the plot developed. In the Legendary Saga, Ingigerðr, while addressing the sick boy’s mother to Óláfr, stresses that people did not call him a healer. But the act of healing was followed here by the remark: “Oc kallaðe þegar i staðenom ia” (“And they immediately started calling him thus in the town”) (ÓHLeg 1922, 74). In Snorri’s text, on the contrary, Ingigerðr says: “Gakk þú til Óláfs konungs, hann er hér læknir beztr” (“Go to King Óláfr, he is the best physician here”), and the woman does so. Although the king asserted that he was no physician, the woman bade him to apply the remedies that he knew of. By placing some bread on his palm crosswise and making the boy swallow it, Óláfr healed the boy. Snorri summarizes his story with the following words: Var þá fyrst á þannug virt sem Óláfr konungr hefði svá miklar læknishendr sem mælt er um þá menn, sem mjǫk er sú íþrótt lǫgð, at þeir hafi hendr góðar, en síðan er jartegnagørð hans varð alkunnig, þá var þat tekit fyrir sanna jartegn. (Hkr 1945, 341–42)
(Then at first it was regarded in this way, that King Óláfr had such great healing hands as it is said of those people who are greatly gifted with this skill, that they have good hands, but afterwards when his miracle-working became universally known, then it was accepted as a true miracle.) (Hkr 2014, 229)
To answer the question why Snorri had selected only this “Russian” miracle from the three miracles in his source, the Legendary Saga, we should probably pay attention to the conclusion Carl Phelpstead arrives at—namely, that “Snorri recounts those stories in which there is the most honour to St. Óláfr” (Phelpstead 2000). In fact, this story is the most honourable one, as it deals with the moment when the saint’s miraculous powers exemplified in his healing abilities were revealed to people. The third and the fourth “Russian” miracles of St. Óláfr mention—as has been noted above (pp. 81–82)—a church in Novgorod dedicated to Óláfr the Saint. Both miracles
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are posthumous. The third one—which occurs in the short and the long versions of the Passio, the Old Norwegian Homily Book, the Legendary Saga, and in Óláfs saga in Flateyjarbók—is a miracle connected to the icon of St. Óláfr at the time of a big fire in Hólmgarðr. The fourth one—which occurs in the same set of texts, with the exception of Flateyjarbók—is a miraculous healing of a dumb slave in the church dedicated to St. Óláfr in Hólmgarðr. Elena Melnikova has argued very convincingly that the emphasis placed on St. Óláfr’s church in Novgorod and on its priests “might indicate the temple origins of miracles 3 and 4 and their emergence among the clergy and the parishioners of the church” (Melnikova 1997a, 457). With the exception of these miracles, we know nothing else about the life of Óláfr Haraldsson in Rus’.
Óláfr’s Departure from Garðaríki
A short time after his expulsion from Norway, Óláfr Haraldsson decided to return to reclaim his throne. His departure from Garðaríki is mentioned, with the exception of Historia Norwegie and Ágrip, in all the aforementioned sources. In the Legendary Saga, Fagrskinna, and in various versions of the saga by Snorri Sturluson we learn why Óláfr came back to Norway—namely, the news that Jarl Hákon had perished. The problem is that Jarl Hákon became the ruler of the country after the departure of King Óláfr. In the summer of 1029 he sailed to England after his bride; “bjósk jarl um haustit til heimferðar ok varð heldr síðbúinn” (“the jarl prepared for his journey home in the autumn, and was ready rather late”), as a result “skip þat týndisk ok kom engi maðr af” (“the ship was lost and not a soul survived”) (Hkr 1945, 335; Hkr 2014, 224). Having received the news, Bjǫrn the Marshal rode to see Óláfr and “kom um vetrinn at jólum austr í Garðaríki” (“came in the winter at Yule east into Garðaríki”) (Hkr 1945, 338; Hkr 2014, 226). Under the year 1029 the Icelandic annals (Annales Regii) report: “Olafr konvngr fór ávstr i Garðariki. Drvknan Hákonar jarls Eiriks sonar” (“King Óláfr travelled east to Garðaríki. Jarl Hákon Eiríksson drowned”) (IA 1888, 107). A short story in Snorri’s Separate Saga and Heimskringla about how Óláfr Haraldsson tells King Jarizleifr and Queen Ingigerðr of his decision to go home (after God’s revelation in a dream) is very indicative in terms of the vocabulary used by Snorri. Trying to persuade Óláfr not to leave and to stay in Rus’, they say “at hann skyldi hafa í þeira ríki þat veldi, er honum þœtti sér sœmiligt” (“that he might have what power he felt was proper for himself in their realm”) (Hkr 1945, 343; Hkr 2014, 229). We come across the same wording when we read how King Óláfr Eiríksson suggests his brother-in-law Jarl Sveinn stay with him, if he wants to, “ok hafa þat ríki til forráða, þat er honum þykki sœmiligt” (“and have what land he thinks fitting for him to rule over there”) (Hkr 1945, 71; Hkr 2014, 43). A passage from the Prologue to the Edda by Snorri Sturluson might be taken for comparison: when Gylfi, a king in Svíþjóð, “learned of the arrival of the men of Asia (who were called Æsir), he went to meet them and offered Odin as much power in his realm as he wished himself” (“bauð at Óðinn skyldi slíkt vald hafa í hans ríki sem hann vildi sjálfr”) (Edda 2005, 8; Edda 1987, 4). The number of examples can easily be increased. Stereotyped language makes the reliability of the report by Snorri
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doubtful, especially since its information is strikingly different from the laconic one contained in an earlier source—namely, in the Legendary Saga (ÓHLeg 1922, 74). This is one argument. On the other hand, the story of the reception given to Óláfr by Jarizleifr is built in accordance with the above-mentioned literary formula aimed at praising a noble Scandinavian outside Scandinavia, which in its turn reduces the reliability of saga information. Still more impressive is the proposal made by Jarizleifr to Óláfr “at dveljask með sér ok taka upp ríki þat, er heitir Vúlgáríá, ok er þat einn hlutr af Garðaríki, ok var þat fólk heiðit í því landi” (“to stay with them and to take over the realm that is called Vúlgáríá, and this is one part of Garðaríki, and the people were heathen in that country”) (Hkr 1945, 339; Hkr 2014, 227). Some translators of the sagas, obviously, only on the basis of sound similarity and a vague idea of the existence at some period of time of a Volga Bulgaria, identify the Vúlgáríá of the sagas with this early state. In scholarly literature, the widely accepted opinion now is that of Adolf Stender-Petersen, who asserts that the record of this country, in no way subject to the Russian ruler, is quite fantastic (Stender- Petersen 1953, 134). But, as in most saga stories, it makes sense to pay attention to the indirect information contained in the narrative. Without connecting the message of the saga with some specific time and concrete historical situation, we can be sure that we are dealing here with a specific reflection of the knowledge of Scandinavians of the Baltic– Volga route and the role of Volga–Kama Bulgaria on this road. The familiarity was so good that the Icelander writing this saga even had an idea of the confessional belonging of the peoples of Bulgaria: claiming that “the people were heathen in that country.” Snorri was not at all mistaken, as it may seem, since for saga authors any non-Christian, including a Muslim, was a “heathen.” The last thing that deserves comment is Snorri’s statement that Vúlgáríá was “one part of Garðaríki.” For this purpose it is worth remembering the Baltic–Volga route in the ninth to thirteenth centuries and realizing that Scandinavians had no opportunity to get to the Volga Bulgaria bypassing Ladoga and Novgorod. As a result, Garðaríki and Vúlgáríá were inextricably linked in their minds. The fact that in the interpretation of Snorri Sturluson—who tried to glorify the Norwegian king Óláfr Haraldsson, patron saint of Norway and perpetuus rex Norwegiæ—the Russian prince Yaroslav offers him neither the Polotsk (“Palteskia ok þat ríki allt, er þar liggr till”) nor the Suzdal’ Land (Suðrdalaríki), but Vúlgáríá, speaks for itself: it reflects the place that the Volga Bulgaria occupied on the mental map of medieval Scandinavians, and the importance that was attached in Scandinavia to trade trips along the Great Volga route (see Jackson 2012, 370–72). As Carl Phelpstead rightly noted, Snorri Sturluson touches in chapter 187 of Ólafs saga helga in Heimskringla upon topics “unusual in saga literature,” as he conveys the “deliberations” of the king. Having suggested Óláfr should take over a heathen realm, Jarizleifr and Ingigerðr gave him “an opportunity to continue his evangelistic work” (Phelpstead 2007, 151), but he was hesitant. He still had the idea of renouncing his kingly title and going to Jerusalem or other holy places. Snorri perfectly conveys the indecision of Óláfr, but what preoccupied him more was whether he could somehow regain his kingdom in Norway (Hkr 1945, 339; Hkr 2014, 227). Óláfr Tryggvason, appearing in his dream in the next chapter of the same saga, addresses both sides of his namesake’s
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character: he reminds Óláfr the saint that the title of king is given him by God, and he tells Óláfr the warrior that “þat er konungs frami at sigrask á óvinum sínum, en vegligr dauði at falla í orrostu með liði sínu” (“it is a king’s glory to overcome his enemies, and a noble death to fall in battle together with one’s troops”) (Hkr 1945, 340; Hkr 2014, 228). As Phelpstead points out, “God’s will is thus conveniently in accord with Óláfr’s own inclinations” (Phelpstead 2007, 151). Speaking of Óláfr’s departure from Garðaríki, Theodoricus monachus reports only that Óláfr “bade farewell to Jaroslav and Ingigerðr, and left his own son Magnús there with them” (“vale faciens Iaritzlavo et Ingigerthi relictoque ibi filio suo Magno reversus est”) (Theodoricus 1880, 35; Theodoricus 1998, 25). The Passio Olavi tells how, “prompted by divine inspiration, he returned by way of Sweden to his native land” (“diuino inspiratus instinctu per suecie fines ad propria remeauit”) (Passio 1881, 72; Passio 2001, 30). The Legendary Saga, chapter 80, Fagrskinna, chapter 34, as well as Snorri Sturluson, tell how Óláfr’s son Magnús was left behind in Garðaríki: “Leiddi Jarizleifr konungr hann ok Ingigerðr dróttning vegsamliga af hendi. En Magnús, son sinn, lét hann þar eptir með konungi” (“King Jarizleifr and Queen Ingigerðr set him splendidly on his way. But his son Magnús he left behind with the king”) (Hkr 1945, 343; Hkr 2014, 229). During the winter, “fyrst at frørum” (“first over the frosty ground”), he reached the sea, and in the spring got to Gotland where he received news from Sweden, Denmark, and Norway. Then he came to know for certain that his country was without a ruler, he “felt the prospects looked good for their expedition” (“Þótti konungi ok hans mǫnnum þá vænt um sína færð”) (Hkr 2014, 230; Hkr 1945, 344), and rushed to meet his doom. We have seen that the Norwegian King Óláfr Haraldsson, married to Ástríðr, found refuge in his hour of need from his political opponents at the court of his mágr (in-law), the Russian Prince Yaroslav the Wise, married to Ástríðr’s half-sister Ingigerðr. He spent the winter of 1029/1030 there and left behind, on his departure for Norway, his young son Magnús. These events, although not known to Old Russian sources, are documented by skaldic verses and do not cause doubts. At the same time, there is a lack of detail, which indicates that saga authors did not possess any specific information on this matter. The presence among the miracles of St. Óláfr of those that took place in Rus’, and Novgorod in particular, as well as the “temple origins” of the two of them, confirm saga stories about the existence in Novgorod of a church dedicated to St. Óláfr.
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Chapter 13
MAGNÚS ÓLÁFSSON IN THE AUTUMN of 1029, a five-year-old boy, the future Norwegian (1035–1047) and Danish (1042–1047) king Magnús inn goði (the Good), was brought by his father Óláfr Haraldsson to Rus’, where he spent at least five years.1 Magnús was born in the spring of 1024. His mother was Álfhildr, the king’s concubine, a beautiful woman of a noble family. She gave birth to a baby boy one night, and none of his men dared to wake up King Óláfr. The baby was so weak that they decided to baptize him immediately, and the name was given to him by the skald Sigvatr: he “hét hann eptir Karla-Magnúsi konungi” (“called him after King Karla-Magnús”), that is, in honour of the Emperor Charlemagne (Latin Carolus Magnus), since he thought “that he was the best man in the world”: “Þann vissa ek mann beztan í heimi,” says the skald (Hkr 1945, 209–11; Hkr 2014, 139–40). The saga of king Magnús the Good has been preserved in several interdependent redactions. Separate chapters are dedicated to Magnús in Ágrip af Noregskonunga sǫgum. In Morkinskinna there is Magnúss saga góða ok Haralds harðráða.2 Many chapters of Fagrskinna tell about Magnús the Good. In Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla Magnúss saga ins góða is a separate saga. The story of Magnús is also recounted in the Historia de antiquitate regum Norwagiensium by Theodoricus monachus, in the Legendary Saga of St. Óláfr, in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, and in Orkneyinga saga. We shall begin with a story of Magnús coming to Rus’. We shall consider in detail not the traditional version, according to which Óláfr Haraldsson took his young son with him to Rus’, and then left him at the court of Yaroslav the Wise and his wife Ingigerðr, but the version in Morkinskinna, according to which Yaroslav invites him to be brought up with him at the insistence of Ingigerðr. We shall also consider the embassy of the most noble Norwegians to Rus’ in order to take young Magnús back to Norway and bring him to power, as also described in Morkinskinna. We shall analyze those few data that are available in the sagas about the life of Magnús in Rus’. Finally, we shall discuss Magnús’s return to his homeland and the date of this event.
Magnús Comes to Rus’
According to a large number of sources, on leaving Norway in 1029, Óláfr Haraldsson took his juvenile son Magnús with him to the east, and, leaving Rus’ early the following year, he left Magnús behind with Yaroslav the Wise and his wife Ingigerðr (see above, p. 143). However, the appearance of Magnús in Rus’ is described completely differently
1 For a more detailed description of Magnús’s stay in Old Rus’ and a more complete bibliography, see Jackson 2000, 93–115. 2 An identical version can be found on pages dating to the second half of the fifteenth century, which have been added to a famous manuscript of the late fourteenth century, Flateyjarbók; a similar version may be found in the fourteenth-century Hulda.
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in Morkinskinna. The saga opens with a text that is called Karls þáttr vesæla, unknown in other Old Norse-Icelandic writings. Some scholars have come to the conclusion that this text did not belong to the original version but was added to the original text of Morkinskinna. Theodor Andersson does not accept this, because the so-called Karls þáttr vesæla lacks the characteristic features of a þáttr. He is inclined to think that all contradictions could arise when the author of Morkinskinna was trying to combine the tradition preserved in Ágrip with another tradition about King Magnús, for example, the one preserved in the *Hlaðajarla saga (or continuation) which was available to him (Andersson 1997). The opinion expressed in scholarly literature that Morkinskinna gives a “verbose” and Heimskringla a “shortened story” of Magnús’s stay in Rus’ is questionable, as Karls þáttr vesæla differs lexically, stylistically, and thematically from the history of young Magnús the Good in all other sources. Morkinskinna opens up with the story of King Jarizleifr, who ruled Garðaríki, and had a wife, Queen Ingigerðr, the daughter of Óláfr sœnski (the Swedish). Jarizleifr, says the saga, “lét sér gera dýrliga hǫll með mikilli fegrð, þrýða með gulli ok gimsteinum” (“had a splendid hall constructed in magnificent style, ornamented with gold and precious stones”), “tjǫlduð með pellum ok dýrum klæðum” (“hung with precious fabrics and costly tapestries”) (Msk 2011, 1:3–4; Msk 2000, 89). A splendid feast was arranged in this hall. When the queen entered the hall, Jarizleifr wanted to hear her opinion, but her response was quite unexpected: “Herra,” segir hon, “þessi hǫll er vel skipuð, ok fá dœmi munu til at slík þrýði eða meiri ok fékostnaðr komi saman í eitt hús eða jafn margir góðir hǫfðingjar ok vaskir menn. En betr er þó sú hǫll skipuð er Óláfr konungr Haraldsson sitr í, þó at hon standa á súlum einum.” (Msk 2011, 1:4)
(“Lord, this hall is well appointed, and it must be almost unexampled that such splendor and expense should conspire in a single residence, along with such a number of excellent chieftains and valiant men. Nonetheless, the hall in which King Óláfr Haraldsson sits is superior, even though it only stands on posts.”) (Msk 2000, 89)
The king became angry with her and, saying that there was humiliation in her words, he slapped her. She was angry and told her friends that she wanted to leave his kingdom, but, asked to calm down and change her mind, she said that first the king should atone for it before her. The king invited her to make peace and promised that he would do whatever she asked for. She agreed and said: “Þú skalt nú,” segir hon, “senda skip í Nóreg til Óláfs konungs, því at ek hefi spurt at hann á einn son ungan laungetinn. Bjóð honum hingat ok veit honum uppfœzlu ok fóstr, því at sannligt er þat með ykkr, er mælt er, at sá er ógǫfgari er ǫðrum fóstrar barn.” (Msk 2011, 1:5)
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(“You shall send a ship to King Óláfr in Norway, for I have learned that he has a young son out of wedlock. Invite the boy here and provide for his upbringing and fostering, because it is confirmed in the case of you two that it is the less distinguished man who fosters the other’s child.”) (Msk 2000, 90)
King Jarizleifr agreed to it and sent a ship to Norway. In connection with what has been said above on mutual affection between Óláfr Haraldsson and Ingigerðr (see above, p. 133), it is worth paying attention to the words with which Óláfr accepted the offer: “hvergi þykki mér minn sonr betr kominn en með Jarizleifi konungi ok [Ingigerði] dróttning, ok ek veit mestan kvenskǫrung ok mér bezt viljaða” (“I think that my son could be in no better hands than those of King Yaroslav and his queen, whom I know to be a most excellent woman and well disposed toward me”) (Msk 2011, 1:5; Msk 2000, 90). The custom of giving, from his early days, a child of a noble family (a son) into another family to be brought up there was widespread in Scandinavia. It is often referred to in the sagas. In this case, we also meet with the reflection of a typical belief in medieval Scandinavia that the one who took the child for upbringing was considered less noble than the child’s father. Another example occurs in Haralds saga hárfagra in Heimskringla. Snorri Sturluson tells how the messengers of King Aðalsteinn (Athelstan) gave King Haraldr a wonderful sword as a gift from the English king, but as he took the handle of that sword they immediately declared him the subject of Aðalsteinn, since he had received his sword. In response, Haraldr sent to England his famous warrior Haukr hábrókr (Long- Leg) with an errand to put his illegitimate son Hákon on the king’s knee, which was done to the great displeasure of Aðalsteinn and to the joy of Haraldr, “því at þat er mál manna, at sá væri ótígnari, er ǫðrum fóstraði barn” (“because it is a common saying that a person who fosters a child for someone is of lower rank”) (Hkr 1941, 145; Hkr 2011, 85).
Noble Norwegians Go to Rus’ to Fetch Magnús
The events in Karls þáttr vesæla develop in the following way. Two Norwegian merchants, Karl and Bjǫrn, decided to make a trading voyage to Rus’. They realized that “fyrir sakir ummæla Sveins konungs ok Jarizleifs konungs ok þess ófriðar er í milli þeira er, þá má þat kalla eigi varligt” (“because of the declarations of King Sveinn and King Yaroslav and the hostility between them, the voyage is hardly without risk”). Yet still they sailed east into the Baltic and anchored “við eitt mikit kauptún” (“at a big market centre”), in all likelihood Aldeigjuborg. The Norwegian merchants were threatened with an attack by the natives, and Karl immediately went to see King Jarizleifr, but was at once taken and put in irons. Having released him on the request of young Magnús, Jarizleifr suggested Karl either go back to Norway or stay for one winter and in spring go on his errand. When spring came, Karl was sent to Norway with some money and a task “þetta fé bera undir lenda menn Nóregi ok alla þá menn er nǫkkurr miðmundi er at ok vinir vilja vera Magnúss Óláfssonar” (“to suborn the district chieftains in Norway and all such men as are of any importance and wish to be the friends of Magnús the son of Óláfr”) (Msk 2011, 1:9–10; Msk 2000, 92). Karl and his brother Bjǫrn met Einarr þambarskelfir in Norway
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and gave him the message from Magnús, and also met Kálfr Árnason, a noble Norwegian who had fought in the Battle of Stiklestad against St. Óláfr, but was now ready to swear allegiance to his son Magnús. They all sailed east to Garðaríki. “Sverr Kálfr þá þann eið at hann ynni eigi á Óláfi konungi ok hét sik síðan Magnúsi til trausts ok alls trúnaðar ok at gøra ǫll þau verk er Magnús legði fyrir hann” (“Kálfr then swore an oath that he had not struck a blow at King Óláfr, and he committed himself to support Magnús faithfully and to perform all the tasks that Magnús assigned him”) (Msk 2011, 1:18; Msk 2000, 97). Elena Rydzevskaya proposed that, in spite of the fact that it is a clearly unhistorical part of Morkinskinna, contradicting those data in saga texts whose historical fidelity is beyond doubt, portraying Yaroslav the Wise as a man proud, irritable, steep, and severe in moments of anger, but not devoid of resourcefulness and capable of succumbing to reasonable persuasions and arguments, the author of Morkinskinna (or its source) might have been dealing with some genuine old memories of Yaroslav (Rydzevskaya 1940, 71–72). In all the sources mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, a trip of noble Norwegians to Rus’ after Magnús is described with small variations. But the reason behind the trip differs in all the texts from the one put forward in Morkinskinna—the bribing of Norwegian magnates on the request of Yaroslav the Wise. Here we read of the discontent of the people of the country with the reign of King Sveinn Knútsson and his mother Álfífa, and also of the repentance for the complicity in the killing of Óláfr Haraldsson. As a result, some years after the Battle of Stiklestad, a group of noble Þrœndir (Thronds) went to Rus’ to clear the way for Magnús’s succession to the throne of Norway (see, for instance, Hkr 1945, 410–15; Hkr 2014, 274–78). Ágrip gives the most complete list of noble Norwegians: “The leading men of this expedition were (“ok váru hǫfðingjar í þeiri fǫr”) Jarl Rǫgnvaldr, Einarr þambarskelmir, Sveinn bryggjufótr and Kálfr Árnason” (Ágrip 1985, 32; Ágrip 1995, 46–47). According to Snorri, those were Einarr þambarskelfir and Kálfr Árnason, “ok hǫfðu mikla sveit manna ok it bezta mannval, er til var í Þrœndalǫg” (“and a large company of men and the most select body of men available in Þrœndalǫg”) (Hkr 1945, 414; Hkr 2014, 277). Their arrival is dated to 1034 (Rydzevskaya 1940, 68). In Morkinskinna we have one more piece of evidence for some active and direct participation by Yaroslav—whose role in Snorri’s text is less obvious—in elevating Magnús to the Norwegian throne, on the one hand, and Ingigerðr’s great interest in his fate on the other (or the Morkinskinna author’s desire to present things as such). Being suspicious about the Norwegians’ fidelity to Magnús, Jarizleifr and Ingigerðr still made their decision and addressed Einarr—who had not been in Norway when King Óláfr fell—with the following words: “Viltu gørask forsjámaðr Magnúss ok fóstrfaðir hans þá munu vér til þessa hætta ok þó með því móti at þú sverir honum áðr trúnaðareið ok tólf menn með þér, þeir sem vér viljum til kjósa” (“If you will agree to be Magnús’s regent and foster father, we will risk it, but with the stipulation that you and twelve others of our choosing will swear oaths of loyalty to him”) (Msk 2011, 1:20; Msk 2000, 98). An oath of twelve (tylftareið) which is brought by Norwegians, requires comment. In accordance with Norwegian law, oaths were distinguished by the number of compurgators, an oath of twelve being used in only the most grave cases (Cleasby, Gudbrand Vigfusson 1957, 117). The reaction of Einarr—“En víst mun mǫrgum þat
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þykkja athlœgis vert at vér hǫfum Frit til þess ór Nóregi at sverja yðr tylftareið” (“It is certain that many will find it ridiculous that we have journeyed all the way from Norway to swear an oath of twelve”) (Msk 2011, 1:20; Msk 2000, 98–99)—although he did not reject the suggestion, might have meant that he felt that he and his companions were being treated like criminals (Msk 2000, 421). Saga material brings Sverre Bagge to a conclusion “that to swear an oath means to take on a very heavy responsibility. […] One should as far as possible avoid oaths, but if one does, it is difficult to avoid blame if it is not kept” (Bagge 1991, 168). As a result of those negotiations, “sóru tólf menn eiða, inir ágætustu, at þeir skyldu Magnús halda til konungs í Nóregi” (“twelve most distinguished men swore oaths that they would back Magnús as king in Norway”), and left Garðaríki with the young prince (Msk 2011, 1:20; Msk 2000, 99). Heimskringla pictures the same development of events, but provides Magnús with another foster father and makes him give an oath in return: Veitti Magnús tryggðir ok fulla sætt ok festi svardǫgum, at hann skyldi vera þeim ǫllum tryggr ok trúr, þótt hann fengi í Nóregi ríki ok konungdóm. Skyldi hann gerask fóstrsonr Kálfs Árnasonar, en Kálfr vera skyldr at gera þau verk ǫll, er Magnúsi þœtti þá vera sitt ríki meira eða frjálsara en áðr. (Hkr 1945, 415)
(Magnús granted assurances and complete atonement and confirmed it by oaths that he should be faithful and true to all of them, even if he gained power and kingship in Norway. He was to become foster-son to Kálfr Árnason, and Kálfr to be bound to do everything that Magnús felt would make his power greater and more independent than before.) (Hkr 2014, 277–78)
Magnús in Garðaríki
Young Magnús’s stay in Rus’ is described in much the same way as that of the young Óláfr Tryggvason. Having murdered one of the Russian prince’s retainers, says Morkinskinna, “Magnús er með hirð konungs, ok fœddr upp með mikilli ást” (“Magnús remained in residence with the king’s retinue and was brought up with great affection”) (Msk 2011, 1:6; Msk 2000, 90). When it comes to the story that some people rejected young Magnús, we encounter the motif also present in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar—that of the envy of people towards a foreign king who enjoys honour and fame at the court of the Russian prince. The sentiment that “óvið‹r›kvæmiligt at fœða þar upp konungsson útlendan” (“it was inappropriate to raise a foreign prince there”) (Msk 2011, 1:5; Msk 2000, 90) is parallel to what we have already read in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar: “þat váru lǫg í Garðaríki, at þar skyldu ekki vera konungbornir menn nema at konungs ráði” (“it was the law in Garðaríki that no men of royal blood should be there except with the king’s consent”) (Hkr 1941, 232; Hkr 2011, 141; see above, pp. 123–25). A. I. Lyashchenko doubts that such a law could exist in Old Rus’, but still he is sure that in some cases Scandinavian kings found it risky to reveal their names and origin while abroad, and cites cases described by sagas when they changed their names: Haraldr the Harsh Ruler calls himself in Byzantium
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Norðbrikt, and Óláfr Tryggvason in the West introduces himself as a merchant from Garðaríki named Áli/Óli (Lyashchenko 1926b, 11–12). Russian sources have not preserved any data that could prove Magnús’s presence at the Russian court. Irrefutable evidence comes solely from the poems of three Icelandic skalds of the first half of the eleventh century. The first to be named is Sigvatr Þórðarson who, after the fall of his patron Óláfr Haraldsson, became the skald of his son Magnús. Sigvatr, as we know, had known Magnús since his birth and was his godfather (see above, p. 145). Two of his Lausavísur composed in 1031–1035 deserve our attention. Snorri Sturluson tells how in the early winter of 1035 Sigvatr travelled east over the Keel mountains, came to Sweden and went to see Queen Ástríðr, the widow of Óláfr Haraldsson, who welcomed him and with whom he stayed for a long time (Hkr 1951, 17–19; Hkr 2015, 11–12). Two stanzas from Sigvatr’s Lausavísur (25 and 28) are quoted here not as a confirmation of the story, but as part of it, as the skald’s direct speech. The first of them is addressed to those merchants who used to trade with Novgorod (Hólmgarðsfarar). When he met them, he usually asked if they knew anything about Magnús and said: Enn lystir mik (austan erut of spǫrð ór Gǫrðum) frá ǫðlingi ungum (opt byrjuð lof) spyrja. Fréttik smás, þótt smæstir smoglir ástar foglar (þinig ljúgumk fǫr) fljúgi (fylkis niðs) á miðli.
(Still it pleases me to ask about the young prince; the praises often conveyed from the east out of Garðar are not too sparing. I enquire about little, though the smallest, smuggling birds of affection fly between; I am cheated of the journey hither {of the leader’s offspring} [RULER = Magnús].) (Fulk 2012b, 730)3
Heim sóttir þú hættinn hǫnd, en vel mátt lǫndum— þinn stoðak môtt—sem mǫnnum, Magnús konungr, fagna. Fœrak víst, þvít vôrum varðr at þér, í Garða; skrifnask skírinafna skript, þjóðkonungr, niptar.
(Bold, you came back home, King Magnús, and you can be most glad of [your] lands as well as [your] people; I support your power. Certainly, I would have travelled to Garðar, since we were [I was] closely connected to you; a document of [your] kinswoman is written to [my] godson, great king.) (Jesch 2012b, 734)4
When Magnús came from Garðaríki to Sweden, Sigvatr was still with Queen Ástríðr, and he uttered another stanza:
The part played by Ástríðr, the widow of Óláfr Haraldsson and stepmother of his illegitimate son Magnús, in the elevation of the latter to the throne of Norway, is mentioned only by Snorri Sturluson who builds his story on three strophes by skald Sigvatr, also 3 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia. 4 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia.
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preserved only in Heimskringla (see Jesch 1994–97). The last two lines of the second of these two stanzas needed reconstruction which caused “no particular problems,” as Judith Jesch states, but “understanding that text is not so simple” (Jesch 1994–97, 11), and she accepts the interpretation suggested by Bjarni Aðalbjarnarson (Hkr 1951, 18– 19). She also notes that a suggestion put forward in the latest edition of Heimskringla (Hkr 1991, 567) “that this was a written confirmation by Ástríðr that her stepson was legally entitled to inherit the kingdom” can be no more than a guess (Jesch 1994–97, 10n10).
Magnús’s Return to Norway from Garðaríki
The other Icelandic skald, a contemporary of Magnús, speaking of his stay in Rus’ (Garðar), is the forementioned Bjarni Hallbjarnarson gullbrárskáld (see above, p. 135). Snorri Sturluson tells of how Magnús Óláfssson was accepted as king over the whole of Norway, how that same autumn King Cnut the Great died in England, and how Sveinn Álfífuson, who fled from Norway to Denmark on the return of Magnús, died the same summer in Denmark. Snorri quotes what skald Þjóðolfr Arnórsson said of King Magnús and continues in the following way: “Bjarni gullbrárskáld orti um Kálf Árnason” (“Bjarni gullbrárskáld composed about Kálfr Árnason”) (Hkr 1951, 11–12). In the quoted further stanza (Kálfsflokkr 6) Bjarni relates how Magnús was assisted by Kálfr Árnason in getting back home from Rus’: Hafa lézt unga jǫfra erfð, sem til réð hverfa; satts, at sitja knátti Sveinn at Danmǫrk einni. Kennduð, Kalfr, til landa kappfúsum Magnúsi —olluð ér, þvís stillir jǫrð of fekk—ór Gǫrðum.
(You allowed the young prince [Magnús Óláfsson] to have the inheritance that came his way; it is true that Sveinn was able to rule only in Denmark. Kálfr, you conducted the spirited Magnús to his lands from Garðar; you brought it about that the ruler gained the country.) (Finlay 2012b, 886)5
It is likely that this poem by Bjarni gullbrárskáld not found in Morkinskinna could have given Snorri Sturluson a reason to claim that Magnús’s foster father was Kálfr Árnason, and not Einarr þambarskelfir, as is stated in Morkinskinna. The third skald who knows that Magnús was in Rus’ is Arnórr Þórðarson jarlaskáld, born in Iceland ca. 1012. Magnúss saga ins góða in Heimskringla opens with a story of how “Magnús Óláfsson byrjaði ferð sína eptir jólin austan af Hólmgarði ofan til Aldeigjuborgar” (“after Yule Magnús Óláfsson got ready to set out from the east in Hólmgarðr down to Aldeigjuborg”). To prove his words Snorri refers to the skald: “Þess getr Arnórr jarlaskáld í Magnússdrápu” (“Arnórr jarlaskáld (Jarls’ Poet) speaks of this in Magnússdrápa”) (Hkr 1951, 3; Hkr 2015, 3). This poem is an erfidrápa (memorial poem) 5 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia.
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which might have been composed not long after Magnús’s death in 1047. It opens with a stanza telling about the young prince’s return ór Gǫrðum:6 Nú hykk rjóðanda reiðu rógǫrs, þvít veitk gǫrva, —þegi seimbrotar—segja seggjum hneitis eggja. Vasat ellifu allra ormsetrs hati vetra, hraustr þás herskip glæsti Hǫrða vinr ór Gǫrðum.
(Now I mean to tell men of the career {of the strife-quick reddener of the sword’s edges} [WARRIOR], for I know it fully; let {gold-breakers} [GENEROUS MEN] be silent. {The hater {of the reptile’s home}} [GOLD > GENEROUS MAN] was not fully eleven winters when [he], {the valiant friend of the Hǫrðar} [NORWEGIAN KING = Magnús], arrayed warships to leave Garðar.) (Whaley 2009b, 207–9)7
The question of the authorship of this stanza is rather controversial, since its two last lines are identical to the two lines of a visa preserved only in Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar in Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla (Fríssbók version) where he attributes it to the twelfth- century skald Hallar-Steinn. Finnur Jónsson has claimed this stanza as belonging to still another skald, Hallfreðr vandræðaskáld (d. 1007), in the opening of his Óláfsdrápa (ca. 996) (Skj 1967, 156), which meant that Arnórr in the eleventh century had to have borrowed these lines from Hallfreðr, or imitate him, but not vice versa. This view was shared by Jan de Vries and Omeljan Pritsak (Vries 1964, 1:165; Pritsak 1981, 272). On the contrary, Bjarne Fidiestøl believed that there was a transfer of the tradition associated with Magnús the Good to the story of Óláfr Tryggvason (Fidjestøl 1982, 107). Diana Whaley, in her turn, gave convincing arguments in favour of the fact that the original stanza had belonged to the contemporary of Magnús the Good, Árnorr jarlaskáld (Whaley 1998, 183–84). Johan Schreiner estimates the time of Magnús’s departure from Rus’ as follows. Cnut the Great died on November 12, 1035, but news of this could not have reached Norway before Yule (Christmas). Most likely, several months passed—the spring of 1036 came— when those in Norway learned of his death. Winter storms make regular communication in this part of the world impossible. The embassy to Rus’ could have started no earlier than April or even early May of 1036—ice had to have gone in the Baltic Sea and the Gulf of Finland. Magnús started his way home in the autumn of 1036. This calculation coincides with the words of the skald Árnorr, who claimed that Magnús “clove the salt with rime-spread hull from the east” (Whaley 2009b, 209–10: “Salt skar húfi héltum /hraustr þjóðkonungr austan”). And Magnús reached Tröndelag not earlier than December 1036 (Schreiner 1929, 519–24). However, this calculation contradicts the information from the sagas. 6 The second stanza—mentioned earlier (see above, p. 39)—continues the story of his voyage austan. 7 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia.
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At a later date, 1046, Magnús shared Norway with Haraldr Sigurðarson, also a king from the dynasty of Haraldr the Fine-Haired, his third uncle in the male line and also the uterine brother of his father, St. Óláfr, and—dying in 1047—he gave the realm of Denmark to Sveinn Úlfsson (Hkr 1951, 105–6). The date of Magnús’s death—October 25, 1047—is based on the information from Haralds saga Sigurðarsonar, chapter 38 in Hulda: “Magnús konúngr andaðist þrim nóttum fyrir messudag Símónis ok Júdê” (“King Magnús died three days before the Holy Apostles Simon and Jude Mass”) (Fms 1831, 6:230), which is celebrated on October 28. The stay of Magnús in Rus’ should not therefore be the subject of any doubt, since it is confirmed by the verses of three Icelandic skalds of the eleventh century. At the same time, the only detailed account of his life at the Russian court is clearly modelled after a similar story from the life of Óláfr Tryggvason. On the contrary, the situation described by the sagas with the arrival of the embassy of the noble Norwegians wishing to bring young Magnús back home, and, especially, the significant role of Yaroslav the Wise in enthroning Magnús in Norway, as it is presented in Morkinskinna, are likely to have been based on some knowledge of the real situation.
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Chapter 14
HARALDR SIGURÐARSON ACCORDING TO THE sagas, Haraldr Sigurðarson, the future Norwegian king Haraldr inn harðráði (the Harsh Ruler), appeared in Garðaríki twice, with an interval of about ten years. The saga about him has been preserved in several redactions.1 Some chapters are dedicated to Haraldr in Ágrip af Noregskonunga sǫgum. In Morkinskinna we find Magnúss saga góða ok Haralds harðráða (see above, p. 145n2). Many chapters of Fagrskinna tell about Haraldr Sigurðarson. In Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla Haralds saga Sigurðarsonar is a separate saga. Sagas of Haraldr are largely based on oral tradition. Among the informants one finds Halldórr Snorrason, the king’s friend and bodyguard, who was with him all the time he was abroad, and who later told the saga of Haraldr at the Þing assemblies in Iceland; Þorgils Snorrason, a priest in Skarð in the west of Iceland (d. 1201); Guðríðr, the daughter of Guthormr, the son of Steigar-Þórir, that very bond who was the first to give Haraldr the king’s name in Norway (d. 1095). King Haraldr himself was one of the informants in Morkinskinna: there are four references to him as a source of information. One might be sure that the saga of his travels beyond the seas was brought by the king himself, if not to Iceland, but to the Scandinavian north. The traditions about Haraldr seems to have blossomed more richly than about other rulers, and we may suspect that Haraldr had had a hand in this. He could have been the main patron of his own legend and could have supplied the narrative with information. There was a rich tradition concerning this Norwegian king in Iceland, and he was very popular among the Icelandic skalds. At least four of his skalds, Bǫlverkr Arnórsson, Þjóðólfr Arnórsson, Stúfr inn blindi, and Valgarðr á Velli confirm the fact that Haraldr had been to Garðar. Haraldr’s mother Ásta Guðbrandsdóttir was married first to Haraldr inn grenski (the Greenlander), and then to Sigurðr sýr (Pig). Her sons from these two marriages, the famous Norwegian kings Óláfr Haraldsson (1014–1028) and Haraldr Sigurðarson (1046–1066), were uterine brothers, but they were related on the paternal line as well, since they were both great-grandsons of the founder of the dynasty of Norwegian kings, Haraldr the Fine-Haired, and were thus third cousins of one another. In this chapter we shall follow the fifteen-year-old Haraldr from the Battle of Stiklastaðir, where Óláfr Haraldsson fell, in his flight to Garðaríki, and discuss the details of his military service with Prince Jarizleifr as they are described by the sagas. We shall read in Morkinskinna about Harald’s marriage proposal to Ellisíf (Elizaveta Yaroslavna) treated here as a reason for his departure for Byzantium. We shall also study saga stories about his exploits during his Byzantine service. We shall consider his skaldic stanzas (Gamanvísur) addressed to Ellisíf, and his marriage to the Russian princess on his return to Garðaríki from Byzantium. 1 For a more detailed description of Haraldr’s stay in Old Rus’ and a more complete bibliography, see Jackson 2000, 117–55.
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Haraldr’s Flight to Garðaríki
Speaking of Haraldr Sigurðarson, Snorri Sturluson states that “engar frásagnir merkiligar hǫfum vér frá uppruna hans, fyrr en hann var fimmtán vetra, þá er hann var á Stiklarstǫðum í orrostu með Óláfi konungi, bróður sínum” (“we have no noteworthy accounts of his youth until he was fifteen winters old, when he was at Stiklarstaðir in the battle along with his brother King Óláfr”) (Hkr 1951, 200; Hkr 2015, 121). His saga starts with a mention of this battle and says that “var Haraldr þá sárr ok komsk í brot með ǫðrum flóttamǫnnum” (“Haraldr was then wounded and got away with the others that took to flight”) (Hkr 1951, 68; Hkr 2015, 41). Snorri cites Sexstefja 1, by Þjóðólfr Arnórsson, from which it follows that Haraldr was fifteen years old when Óláfr fell in 1030: Skilðisk hann, ok hulði hjalmsetr gamall vetra tyggi tolf ok þriggja, trauðr við Ôleif dauðan.
(He parted, reluctant, from the dead Óláfr, and the prince twelve and three years [lit. winters] old concealed {his helmet-stand} [HEAD].) (Whaley 2009c, 112–13)
Ágrip informs that “í orrostu þeiri, er inn helgi Óláfr fell í, þá varð Haraldr bróðir hans sárr. Hann flýði eptir fall hans braut ýr landi ok í Austrvega ok svá til Miklagarðs” (“In the battle in which St Óláfr fell his brother Haraldr was wounded, and after Óláfr’s death he fled the country to Austrvegur (here: Rus’) and went thereafter to Miklagarðr”) (Ágrip 1985, 31–32; Ágrip 1995, 45).2 Haraldr’s sojourn in Rus’ is not mentioned here, nor is it known to Adam of Bremen (III: 13) who thinks as well that Haraldr left Norway while St. Óláfr was still alive: “Haroldus quidam, frater Olaph, regis et martyris, vivente adhuc germano patriam egressus Constantinopolim exul abiit” (“A certain Harold, the brother of Olaf, king and martyr, left his fatherland while his brother still lived and went as an exile to Constantinople”) (Adam 1917, 153; Adam 2002, 124). According to Morkinskinna, Haraldr went east to Svíþjóð and from there to Garðaríki (Msk 2011, 1:84; Msk 2000, 131). Fagrskinna, Heimskringla, and Hulda mention that Haraldr was accompanied in his trip by Jarl Rǫgnvaldr. In Fagrskinna Sweden is not named as an intermediate point, but it is specified that they came to Hólmgarðr at the beginning of that winter (Fask 1985, 227). Such a timeframe is possible if you sail across the Baltic in the autumn and make a journey from Ladoga to Novgorod by land. Heimskringla and Hulda, however, tell that Haraldr hid himself and healed his wounds in Sweden, and only the following summer did he go east to Garðaríki. So, the arrival of Haraldr in Rus’ can be dated by Scandinavian sources to 1030 or 1031. Saga authors quote a skaldic stanza which seems to indicate that Haraldr had spent only one year in Rus’: 2 With my emendation: Austrvegur (here: Rus’) instead of Russia.
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En, gramr—né frák fremra friðskerði þér verða— austr vast ár it næsta, ǫrðuglyndr, í Gǫrðum.
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(And, resolute ruler, the following year you were east in Garðar; I never heard of {a peace-diminisher} [WARRIOR] becoming more distinguished than you.) (Gade 2009a, 286–88)3
Bǫlverkr Arnórsson, an Icelandic skald of the eleventh century, is named as poet of all the stanzas of the Drápa about Haraldr harðráði in every version, except that Fagrskinna attributes this very stanza 1 to Valgarðr á Velli (Fask 1985, 227). Sigfús Blöndal (1978, 55), however, stresses that neither the author of Fagrskinna nor Snorri Sturluson read the strophe as if Haraldr had spent one year “austr í Gǫrðum” (“in the east, in Garðar”): the first of these authors claims that Haraldr spent “a long time” (“langa hríð”) there (Fask 1985, 228; Fask 2004, 183), and the second one speaks of “some winters” (“nǫkkura vetr”) (Hkr 1951, 70; Hkr 2015, 42). Scholars agree with this. According to Gustav Storm, Haraldr spent 1031–1034 in Rus’ (Storm 1884, 383). Adolf Stender-Petersen dates Haraldr’s visit to Rus’ to 1031–1033 (Stender-Petersen 1953, 134). Henrik Birnbaum is inclined to believe that Haraldr’s first visit to Rus’ took place in 1031–1033 or, possibly, lasted a little longer (Birnbaum 1978). Proceeding from Stender-Petersen’s interpretation of the term pólútasvarf as a Russian полюдье (polyudye), and not as a “palace plundering” of the Byzantine emperor (which will be discussed below), and from the saga indication that Haraldr had gone three times to pólútasvarf, Jonathan Shepard concludes that Haraldr most likely participated in the “polyudye” during his first stay in Rus’, and this should have been the winters of 1031/1032, 1032/1033 and 1033/1034. Accordingly, in Rus’ he spent 1031–1034 and went off to Byzantium in the summer of 1034 (Shepard 1973).
Military Service with Jarizleifr
Morkinskinna, Fagrskinna, Heimskringla, and Hulda state that Jarizleifr made Haraldr “hǫfðingi yfir landvarnarmǫnnum konungs” (“leader of the king’s national defense forces”) (Hkr 1951, 70; Hkr 2015, 42). Elena Rydzevskaya’s argument is inaccurate, since she thinks that, according to the sources, Yaroslav “put him at the head of his Varangian squad” (Rydzevskaya 1940, 68), while the role attributed to Haraldr by the saga is much more significant—namely, the protection of the entire Old Russian state. We have already seen above that Óláfr Tryggvason was in Rus’ in the same capacity, according to the sagas (see above, pp. 125–26). We are again dealing with the previously discussed glorification of a future Norwegian king by means of a stereotyped description of his military service at a foreign court. Scholars, quite naturally, reacted with distrust to the factual information contained here. Thus, Sigfús Blöndal expressed doubt that Yaroslav could have made the fifteen-year-old Haraldr a commander of all his defence forces (Sigfús Blöndal 1941, 97). He stressed that “it is so obvious an exaggeration as to be nonsensical, but 3 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia.
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equally clearly Jaroslav would have been pleased enough to make use of this young warrior and, in view of his royal lineage, would give him some kind of subordinate officer’s rank” (Sigfús Blöndal 1978, 54. Cf. Stender-Petersen 1953, 134–35). The division of functions between Haraldr Sigurðarson and Jarl Eilífr in the army guarding the country is presented in the sources in different ways. Thus, in Morkinskinna it is said that “Haraldr gørðisk brátt landvarnarmaðr með Jarizleifi konungi” (“Haraldr soon became the commander of King Yaroslav’s defense forces”), and “þeir váru báðir samt í hernaði um hríð ok Eilífr jarl” (“they both campaigned for a time with Eilífr”) (Msk 2011, 1:85; Msk 2000, 131). Fagrskinna states that “Jarizleifr konungr setti Harald annan hǫfðingja yfir herlið sitt” (“King Jarizleifr appointed Haraldr as second in command over his army”) after Eilífr (Fask 1985, 227; Fask 2004, 182), according to Heimskringla “gerðisk Haraldr þá hǫfðingi yfir landvarnarmǫnnum konungs ok annarr Eilífr, sonr Rǫgnvalds jarls” (“Haraldr then became leader over the king’s national defence forces, together with Jarl Rǫgnvaldr’s son Eilífr”) (Hkr 1951, 70; Hkr 2015, 42), while Hulda maintains that Haraldr was the first in command and Eilífr was the second (Fms 1831, 6:132). Elena Rydzevskaya has no doubt that what is meant here is Ladoga and Ladoga volost’—namely, “Aldeigjuborg ok þat jarlsríki, er þar liggr til” (“Aldeigjuborg and the jarl’s dominion that belongs with it”) (Hkr 1945, 147; Hkr 2014, 95) which Ingigerðr had received as her bridal gift and given to her relative Jarl Rǫgnvaldr Úlfsson (see above, p. 88), and which after his father’s death took “over his authority,” according to Fagrskinna, Jarl Eilífr (Fask 1985, 227; Fask 2004, 182). In the light of this, Ladoga appears to her as a “military point where there sit consecutively two Swedish warrior leaders, a father and a son.” Organization of military service is in the hands of Eilífr, apparently on behalf of Yaroslav, “and the defence of Old Rus’ lands with the help of Scandinavian mercenaries might be needed in case of attacks of Scandinavian Vikings as well” (Rydzevskaya 1945, 60–61). Although there is nothing to confirm the direct information of the sagas, the indirect information contained here does not cause any doubt, since it is verified by the Old Russian chronicles that mention Varangians as mercenaries, i.e., the Norman corps which for some period of time constantly served the Russian princes. We see Varangians among the Slavic troops when Oleg attacked the Greeks in 907; in 941 Igor’ began to collect a great army, “and sent many messengers after the Varangians beyond the sea” (“и посла по варяги многи за море”), inviting them to attack the Greeks; preparing to fight against Yaropolk in 978–980, Vladimir Svyatoslavich, as mentioned above, “fled abroad” (“бѣжа за море”) and returned to Novgorod “with Varangian allies” (“съ варяги”). Yaroslav, judging by the chronicle, appealed to the help of Varangian detachments more often than other princes: and in the fight against his father Vladimir (in 1015 he “sent overseas and imported Varangian reinforcements” [“пославъ за море, приведе варягы”]), and getting ready for a clash with Mstislav Vladimirovich (in 1024 he “sent overseas after Varangians” [“посла за море по варягы”]) (PVL 1996, 16, 23, 35–36, 58, 65; RPC 1930, 64, 72, 91, 124, 135). It was the Vikings’ squads, and not individual adventurers, that the Russian princes employed up to the eleventh century, and concluded with their leaders a kind of collective agreement, as indicated by the chronicles and sagas.
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One military enterprise of Haraldr and Eilífr is mentioned by the Icelandic skald Þjóðólfr Arnórsson (d. 1066). His Runhent poem about Haraldr was composed after 1050. Its first stanza “clearly refers to the young Haraldr’s joint military command in the Baltic, and is attached to narratives of this” (Whaley 2009d, 103) in Heimskringla (Hkr 1951, 70; Hkr 2015, 42) and Hulda (Fms 1831, 6:132). In Morkinskinna it occurs as two separate helmingar (Msk 2011, 1:85; Msk 2000, 131), while in Fagrskinna there is only the first of them (Fask 1985, 228; Fask 2004, 182). In none of the sagas is there complete correspondence between the prose text and the visa: saga stories do not employ all the information contained in a skaldic stanza, so that the poetic text can contain additional data: Eitt hǫfðusk at, Eilífr þars sat, hǫfðingjar tveir; hamalt fylkðu þeir. Austr-Vinðum ók í ǫngvan krók; vasa Læsum léttr liðsmanna réttr.
(Two chieftains engaged in a single action, where Eilífr held sway; they lined up their troops in wedge formation. The East Wends were driven into a tight corner; the terms of the liegemen were not easy on the Læsir.) (Whaley 2009d, 103–5)
From the stanza we learn that Haraldr and Eilífr, who in the early 1030s were in the service of Yaroslav the Wise, carried out a military operation against the Læsir, i.e., the Poles (cf. Cross 1929, 185). In spite of the fact that Þjóðólfr had not been with Haraldr in Old Rus’ and composed his poem some twenty years later, still it might be a reflection of a campaign of Yaroslav and Mstislav in 1031 in Poland. The Russian Primary Chronicle states that “after a revolt in Polish country” (1030: “бысть мятежь в земли Лядьскѣ”) Yaroslav and Mstislav in 1031 “collected a large force and marched into Poland. They recaptured the cities of Cherven, and ravaged the Polish countryside” (“Ярославъ и Мьстиславъ собраста вой многъ, идоста на Ляхы, и заяста грады червеньскыя опять, и повоеваста Лядьскую землю”) (PVL 1996, 65; RPC 1930, 136), and in this enterprise Yaroslav’s mercenary Scandinavian squad could also have participated (see Rydzevskaya 1945, 60; Stender-Petersen 1953, 134; Sigfús Blöndal 1978, 55).
Matchmaking and Departure
As we learn from the sagas, Haraldr remained several years in Garðaríki, and some time later, he proceeded to Greece, all the way to Miklagarðr (Constantinople). The reason for his departure for Byzantium is explained in Morkinskinna: Ok því meiri frægð vann hann í Austrveg sem hann hafði lengr verit. Jarizleifr konungr ok Ingigerðr dróttning áttu sér dóttur er Elísabeth var nefnd. Þá kalla Norðmenn Ellisif. Þar hefir Haraldr tilmæli at ná því ráði ok kvað þeim kunnigt
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verity hafa sitt forellri, dýrliga frænda er hann átti, ok slíkt af hans framkvæmð sem þá máttu þau nǫkkut til vita ok kallaði eigi ørvænt þess at enn mætti við aukast hans framaverk. (Msk 2011, 1:86)
(The longer he spent in the East, the greater was the fame that he achieved. King Yaroslav and Queen Ingigerðr had a daughter named Elisabeth. The Norsemen call her Ellisif. Haraldr bespoke her hand in marriage and said that they were familiar with his distinguished ancestry and to some extent at first hand with his own success. He said that there might be some expectation that his accomplishments were on the upswing.) (Msk 2000, 131)
Yaroslav said that he could not give his daughter in marriage to a stranger who was at that moment a landless man and did not have the means for such a distinguished marriage, but he did not reject him indefinitely. “Ok eptir þessa rœðu gørisk hann at fara út í lǫnd” (“After this exchange, Haraldr prepared to go abroad”) (Msk 2011, 1:86; Msk 2000, 131–32), reached Constantinople and spent several years there in the service of the Byzantine emperor. The daughter of the Russian prince Yaroslav the Wise “named Elisabeth” occurs only in the Icelandic sagas. Boris Kleiber noted that a female name Елизавета (Elizaveta) appeared in Russia only from the eighteenth century, but he drew attention to the fact that in Old Rus’ there was a name Елисава (Elisava): so, the First Novgorodian Chronicle, s.a. 1179, mentions a hegumene with that name: “The same year Elisava, servant of God, Igumena of St. Ioan, died” (“Томь же лѣтѣ прѣставися раба божия Елисава, игумения святого Иоанна”) (NPL 1950, 36; ChronNovg 1970, 30). This gives Kleiber grounds to conclude that the youngest daughter of Yaroslav the Wise and Ingigerðr received the baptismal name Елисава, but in the family where the parents spoke Swedish, she was called Ellisif (Kleiber 1974). Sigfus Blöndal agrees with P. A. Munch (Munch 1873–76, 1:534) who “has shown that this cannot have happened so early in his career, but would rather have been later, after his return from Byzantium, as Elisaveta can hardly have been ten years old at this point” (Sigfús Blöndal 1978, 55). Still, a number of scholars who calculate 1025 as the year of Elizaveta Yaroslavna’s birth, nevertheless, do not point to any chronological contradiction in the saga narrative (Koht 1926, 510; Kleiber 1974, 52).
Byzantine Service
Haraldr Sigurðarson reached Constantinople and stayed there for about ten years. A Byzantine commander of the eleventh century Kekaumenos in his Strategikon (Λόγος νουθετητικός), in spite of a little inaccuracy, gives a noteworthy description of Haraldr’s stay in Byzantium, which, judging from his text (Ἤμην δὲ κἀγῲ τότε ἀγωνιζόμενος ὑπὲρ τοῦ βασιλέως κατὰ τὸ δυνατόν [“At that time, I was fighting on behalf of the emperor as best I could”]), he happened to witness. Kekaumenos erroneously thought that two Norwegian kings—Óláfr Haraldrsson (Ioulabos, Ἱούλαβος) and Haraldr Sigurðarson (Ἁράλτης)—had been brothers by the same father; still, when
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discussing Haraldr’s arrival in Byzantium, whether it was at the time of Michael IV “the Paphlagonian” (1034–1041) or the time of Michael V “the Caulker” (1041–1042), we should give preference not to the sagas, but to Kekaumenos (Ὅς (Ἁράλτης) δὴ καὶ νέος ὢν ἠθέλησεν εἰσελθεῖν καὶ προσκυνῆσαι τῷ μακαριωτάτῳ βασιλεῖ κῦρ Μιχαὴλ τῷ Παφλάγονι [“Since Haraldr was a young man, he wanted to come and show reverence to the most blessed emperor Lord Michael the Paphlagonian”]) (Kekaumenos 1972, 282; Kekaumenos 1998/9, 6), because Kekaumenos was a witness. Though the sagas call the emperor “Michael kátalaktús,” which could be a slightly distorted transmission of the name “Michael the Caulker,” still they describe Haraldr’s participation in the events of the 1030s. Thus, we can speak of the confusion of the two emperors in the saga tradition, and be sure that the Byzantine and Scandinavian sources agree on Haraldr’s arrival in Byzantium at the time of Michael the Paphlagonian, whose autocratic rule started on April 12, 1034 (Grumel 1958, 358). According to Gustav Storm, the sequence of Haraldr’s military enterprises in Byzantine service is as follows: 1034—his arrival in Constantinople; 1035–1037—a campaign in Asia, in particular in Syria and Mesopotamia; 1036—a trip to Jerusalem; 1038–1040—the looting of Sicily; the spring of 1041—a battle in the south of Italy; the autumn of 1041—a military campaign in Bulgaria; 1042—coup d’état in Constantinople; 1043–1044—Haraldr’s escape from Constantinople (Storm 1884, 383–84). Most scholars believe that Haraldr was in the service in Byzantium until the autumn of 1042. The sagas tell that Haraldr had enriched himself tremendously during his Byzantine service, “en fé þat allt sem hann fekk, ok eigi þurfti hann at hafa til liðskostar, sendi hann með trúnaðarmǫnnum sínum norðr í Hólmgarð í vald ok gæzlu Jarizleifs konungs. Ok drósk þar svá mikit ógrynni fjár saman at eigi mátti mǫrkum telja” (“all the money that he did not need for his military expenditures he sent with his confidential messengers north to Hólmgarðr for safe-keeping with King Yaroslav. Such a huge amount of money was collected that it could not be weighed”) (Msk 2011, 1:94; Msk 2000, 136).4 Traditionally, sending money to Yaroslav was perceived and commented in the light of Haraldr’s matchmaking and Yaroslav’s refusal on the grounds that he could not give his daughter to someone who was not rich enough, as in the following comment by Arkadiy Lyashchenko: “Making exploits, creating his military glory, Haraldr did not forget, apparently, the words of Prince Yaroslav who had pointed out that he was not rich enough. He was in fact attracted to military loot” (Lyashchenko 1922, 117). However, these activities of Haraldr had a different, much deeper, purport. “A more prosaic explanation to the fact,” writes Galina Glazyrina, “one can get from the analysis of the early Norwegian legislation. Clause 47 of the Norwegian regional code of laws Gulatingslov, written down in the second half of the 12th century but based on earlier norms, explains the way of inheritance after a person who has emigrated from the country” (Glazyrina 1991, 124). A man leaving the country could appoint in public a person to manage his property for three years, after which time the successors got this property. But if a man was going to Byzantium, his belongings came into the hands of his successors at once. In this case, 4 With my emendation: I have substituted Kiev for the original Hólmgarðr.
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Haraldr had no reason to send the wealth obtained during his Byzantine service to his homeland, while the assistance of Yaroslav, who took, kept and returned back to Haraldr his property, can be considered as invaluable. The sagas represent the case of Haraldr being seized by Empress Zóe and Emperor Konstantinus Monomakus and brought to a dungeon, and they give two reasons for that. “Ok var sú sǫk in fyrsta gefin honum at hann hefði gull þat er átti Grikkjakonungr” (“The first charge against him was that he kept the gold that belonged to the Byzantine Emperor”) (Msk 2011, 1:109; Msk 2000, 145). The second one relied on Zóe’s personal attitude towards Haraldr: “Þat segja menn at dróttning Þóe hafi ok mjǫk rœgðan hann við konung ok lét at hann vildi tíðkask Máríu systurdóttir hennar […] En menn mæla þat at hon sjálf, dróttningin, vildi hafa hann” (“It was said that Queen Zoe had also slandered him grievously to the emperor, claiming that he wanted to be familiar with her niece Maria […] but the people said that it was the queen herself who wanted him”) (Msk 2011, 1:106; Msk 2000, 144). It is curious that in a similar story in Fagrskinna Maria is called not a systur-, but a sonardóttir, i.e., not a niece (the sister’s daughter), but a granddaughter (the son’s daughter), but we are not able to find out whose mistake lies behind this discrepancy, whether a narrator or a scribe. What is important here is the indisputable fact of reference to oral tradition and its unnamed carriers. Gustav Storm (1884, 371–72) qualifies Haraldr’s arrest under Constantine Monomachos as extremely implausible, since Kekaumenos does not say a word about it. According to him, “after the death of the lord Michael and his nephew the ex-emperor [Michael the Caulker], Haraldr wished to return to his homeland and made this entreaty before Monomachos. He was not allowed but, in fact, his way out narrowed. Nonetheless, he secretly escaped” (Μετὰ δὲ τὴν τελευτὴν τοῦ κῦρ Μιχαὴλ καὶ τοῦ ἀνεψιοῦ αὐτοῦ τοῦ ἀποβασιλέως ἠθέλησεν ἐπὶ τοῦ Μονομάχου αἰτησάμενος ὑποχωρῆσαι εἰς τὴν χώραν αὐτοῦ, καὶ οὐ συνεχωρήϑη, ἀλλὰ γέγονεν αὐτῷ στενὴ ἡ ἔξοδος) (Kekaumenos 1972, 282, 284; Kekaumenos 1998/9, 7). G. G. Litavrin is prone to think that from the very beginning of his reign Constantine Monomachos showed distrust of Russians and Varangians who had faithfully served the Paphlagonians who were hated by the new emperor. Haraldr was also on friendly terms with Yaroslav the Wise, with whom Monomachos immediately formed a strained relationship, culminating in an open clash in 1043. It is not surprising, therefore, that the emperor pressed a charge of misappropriating public funds against Haraldr (Litavrin 1972, 597n1191). Snorri Sturluson talks about another source of Haraldr’s wealth: Haraldr hafði þrim sinnum komit í pólútasvarf, meðan hann var í Miklagarði. Þat eru þar lǫg, at hvert sinn, er Grikkjakonungr deyr, þá skulu Væringjar hafa pólútasvarf. Þeir skulu þá ganga um allar pólútir konungs, þar sem féhirzlur hans eru, ok skal hverr þá eignask at frjálsu, er hǫndum kømr á. (Hkr 1951, 90)
(Haraldr had three times been involved in palace plundering while he was in Miklagarðr. It is the law there that every time a king of the Greeks dies, then the Væringjar shall hold a palace plundering. They shall then go through all the
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king’s palaces where his treasures are, and everyone shall then be free to keep whatever he gets his hands on.) (Hkr 2015, 53)
So Snorri—understanding the first part of the word pólútasvarf as a Latin palatia, “emperor’s palace,”—tells how Haraldr, while serving in Miklagarðr, three times participated in passing, in accordance with the law (which probably never existed), through the recently deceased emperor’s palace, indulging in unlimited plunder. Not all scholars accepted Snorri’s interpretation. V. G. Vasil’yevskiy believed that after the blinding of Michael Calaphates, in which Haraldr was likely to have participated, he joined the outraged crowd that stormed the palace and could at that moment take part in what the sagas call pólútasvarf, filling his hands with Byzantine gold (Vasil’yevskiy 1908, 283). According to A. I. Lyashchenko, “the saga author, in justification of the robbery of his hero, gives an incredible explanation concerning the right of the Varangians to take what falls into their hands at the time of the Byzantium ruler’s shift.” Of course, this could not be the law. “But robberies were possible with palace revolutions so frequent in Byzantium. In fact, Haraldr had experienced three shifts of rulers in Constantinople: Roman III (1034), Michael IV (1041) and Michael V (1042)” (Lyashchenko 1922, 127n2). Sigfús Blöndal noted that “by any standard of knowledge of Byzantine affairs this is inconceivable, though it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that the Varangians who were on guard duty when the emperor died were allowed to take certain precious objects as mementos” (Sigfús Blöndal 1978, 80). However, in Byzantine sources there is not a hint of such a custom. And yet, according to Sigfús Blöndal, there is at least a small core of truth in Snorri’s story. Proceeding from the fact that “the original Varangian regiment came to Byzantium from Russia, and was certain to include a substantial number of Russian- speaking soldiers in its ranks,” Sigfús Blöndal explains the composite term pólútasvarf with the help of Russian words палата (“palace, chambers”) and сбор (“collection, gathering”). With this understanding of the term, his interpretation of the real events behind it is not much different from the one given by Snorri Sturluson. Still, the scholar proposed one more interpretation of the word pólútasvarf, from the Old Russian words получать (“to receive”) and сбор (“tax”), thinking that Haraldr and his company were used by the emperor to collect taxes (Sigfús Blöndal 1978, 80–82). Adolf Stender-Petersen, who also found the Old Russian etymology for the first part of the compound—полюдье (“round journey to gather tax (in Old Rus)”)—thought the second part to be a translation of its first part, the Old Norse svarf “a circuit, a round,” perhaps with some special shades of meaning. To support his interpretation of pólútasvarf, Stender-Petersen resorted to a comparison with a fragment of Constantine Porphyrogenitus in De administrando imperio which relates, inter alia, that when “the month of November begins, their chiefs together with all the Russians at once leave Kiev and go off on the ‘poliudia’, which means ‘rounds,’ that is, to the Slavonic regions” (Ἡνίκα ὁ Νοέμβριος μὴν εἰσέλθῃ, εὐθέως οἱ αὐτῶν ἐξέρχονται ἄρχοντες μετὰ πάντων τῶν Ῥῶς ἀπὸ τὸν Κίαβον, καὶ ἀπέρχονται εἰς τὰ πολύδια, ὃ λέγεται γύρα, ἤγουν εἰς τὰς Σκλαβηνίας) (ConstPorph 1989, 50; ConstPorph 1967, 62–63). Stender-Petersen’s point is that in this passage the Russian word полюдье (polyud'ye) has an explanation in the
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Greek γύρα (gyra) “circling.” At first glance, it seems tempting to agree with Stender- Petersen that Snorri used a word that had already existed in “a special Varangian language” (“le langage spécialement varègue”) also consisting of the Old Russian полюдье and its explanation. However, the error of such a comparison is evident. The Byzantine emperor, using an Old Russian word unfamiliar to him and the young heir to the throne, was immediately forced to explain it in Greek. But the Varangian milieu of the eleventh and twelfth centuries along the way from Byzantium to Kiev and the Nordic countries was perfectly familiar with local conditions and gradually formed “a mixed Varangian language” (“la langue mixte de varègue”). So there was no need for this kind of explanation (Stender-Petersen 1953, 151–64). Still, Stender-Petersen’s argument was shared by Jonathan Shepard (1973). G. G. Litavrin prefers Sigfús Blöndal to Stender-Petersen, “since the sagas report that Haraldr sent his wealth from Byzantium to Yaroslav the Wise, was accused of misappropriating public money and even arrested” (Litavrin 1972, 596). Haraldr, undoubtedly, had opportunities for appropriation of public funds and personal enrichment if, according to Sigfús Blöndal, he was involved in Byzantium in tax collection. Moreover, as V. T. Pashuto has emphasized, Varangian corps were used to collect tribute and polyudye in both Rus’ and Byzantium; when participating in tribute collection, Varangians received one third of the booty in the Russian tradition. During the campaign of Basil II to Bulgaria, one third of the booty was received by the corps of Rus’ in Byzantium, while one third went to the emperor, and the other third to the Greek army.5 According to the sagas, Haraldr was imprisoned together with his two companions, Halldórr Snorrason—who later brought Haraldr’s útferðar saga back to Iceland—and Úlfr Óspaksson. Due to a miracle of St. Óláfr, they all managed to escape. And the same night they took the two galleys and took to their oars to Sæviðarsund (the Golden Horn). Thus Haraldr escaped from Miklagarðr (Constantinople) and out into the Svartahaf (Black Sea). Then Haraldr sailed north across the sea, and from there he went along the Austrríki to Hólmgarðr (“siglir Haraldr norðr yfir hafit, ok þaðan ferr hann um Austrríki til Hólmgarðs”) (Msk 2011, 1:114; Msk 2000, 148).
Back to Garðaríki and the Gamanvísur
Going back to Garðaríki, says Snorri Sturluson, “orti Haraldr gamanvísur ok eru saman sextán ok eitt niðrlag at ǫllum” (“Haraldr composed some entertaining verses, and they are sixteen altogether and they all end in the same way”) (Hkr 1951, 89; Hkr 2015, 52). Snorri, like the author of Fagrskinna, quotes only one stanza (the same one), while Morkinskinna and Hulda have preserved six of Haraldr’s Gamanvísur (“Jesting Vísur”) dedicated “til Elísabeth, dóttur Jarizleifs konungs, er hann hafði beðit” (“to Elisabeth, the daughter of King Yaroslav, whom he had wooed”) (Msk 2011, 1:115; Msk 2000, 148). The congruence of the second helmingr in stanzas 2 and 3, as well as the authorship of 5 See Pashuto 1968, 25, who gives the latter data with reference to Skylitzes–Kedrenos.
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the second helmingr of stanza 4 by another skald (Jarl Rǫgnvaldr Kali Kolsson of Orkney, d. 1158) casts doubt on the authenticity of some of the Gamanvísur (Fidjestøl 1982, 60; Gade 2009b, 35). In the six stanzas that have been preserved, Haraldr tells that in his youth he was in a fierce fight against the Þrœndir (Thronds) where he parted with “the young overlord, fallen in battle” (i.e. Óláfr Haraldsson), describes how he fought in Sicily, got into a terrible storm and escaped, participated in a battle near a stronghold, and names eight accomplishments that he possesses. In Morkinskinna all but one stanza (stanza 4)6 end with a refrain—“þó lætr Gerðr í Gǫrðum / gollhrings við mér skolla” (“yet the Gerðr [goddess] of the gold ring [WOMAN] in Garðar ridicules me”)—referring to Ellisif, the daughter of Jarizleifr and Ingigerðr (Gade 2009b).7 M. I. Steblin-Kamenskij suggested that “there is no semantic connection between what is said in the visas and their refrain, and the very refrain is a common place, hardly having any biographical meaning” (Steblin-Kamenskij 1984, 218). M. Olsen saw in this refrain an association with Skírnismál: in his opinion, Haraldr, addressing his poem to Elizaveta Yaroslavna, also had in mind another Gerðr—í Gymis gǫrðum (“in the house of Gýmir”)—and imagined himself a grieving Freyr from the Eddic poem Skírnismál. The scholar also noted the high quality of Haraldr’s poetry and emphasized that the introduction of a two-line refrain to each stanza had been invented by him (Olsen 1953, 9). Haraldr’s Gamanvísur are included in the text not to confirm the saga narrative but, undoubtedly, to add artistic value to it. It is interesting in this connection that the authors of Fagrskinna and Heimskringla, who reduced the percentage of “ornamental” verse insertions to a minimum, although they do not refrain from quoting Haraldr’s stanzas altogether, keep them to a minimum.
Marriage to Elizaveta Yaroslavna
Haraldr’s return to the court of Jarizleifr was this time much more successful than previously. Sagas tell that er Haraldr kom til Hólmgarðs, fagnaði Jarizleifr konungr honum forkunnar vel. Dvalðisk hann þar um vetrinn, tók þá í sína varðveizlu gull þat allt, er hann hafði áðr sent þannug útan af Miklagarði, ok margs konar dýrgripi. Var þat svá mikit fé, at engi maðr norðr í lǫnd hafði sét slíkt í eins manns eigu. (Hkr 1951, 89–90)
(when Haraldr got to Hólmgarðr, King Jarizleifr welcomed him extremely warmly. He stayed there for the winter, taking now into his own keeping all the gold that he had previously sent there from out in Miklagarðr, and many kinds of valuable objects. It was so much wealth that no one in northern countries had seen so much in the possession of one man.) (Hkr 2015, 53)
6 In Hulda all stanzas end with this refrain.
7 With my emendation: Garðar instead of Russia.
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Adam of Bremen also speaks about the great wealth of Haraldr, acquired in Byzantium (III:13): “Ubi miles imperatoris effectus multa prelia contra Sarracenos in mari et Scitas in terra gessit, fortitudine clarus et divitiis auctus vehementer” (“Becoming there the emperor’s knight, he fought many battles with the Saracens by sea and with the Scythians by land, and he was distinguished for his bravery and much exalted for his riches”) (Adam 1917, 153–54; Adam 2002, 124). In all the compendia of the kings’ sagas it is reported that that winter “gipti Jarizleifr konungr Haraldi dóttur sína Elísabeth” (“King Yaroslav married his daughter Elisabeth to Haraldr”) (Msk 2011, 1:118; Msk 2000, 149). These words of the saga are confirmed by a reference to a memorial drápa about King Haraldr, Stúfsdrápa 4 (ca. 1067), of the Icelandic skald Stúfr inn blindi (the Blind) Þórðarson: Mægð gat ǫðlingr eiga ógnar mildr, þás vildi; gulls tók gauta spjalli gnótt ok bragnings dóttur.
(The battle-generous monarch got the marriage he desired; {the confidant of the people} [KING] took plenty of gold and the ruler’s daughter.) (Gade 2009d, 354)
Skauzt und farm inn frízta —frami veitisk þér—beiti; farðir goll ór Gǫrðum grunlaust, Haraldr, austan. Stýrðir hvatt í hǫrðu, hugdyggr jǫfurr, glyggvi, —sátt, þás sædrif létti, Sigtún—en skip hnigðu.
(You pushed a ship under the most splendid cargo; success is granted you; Haraldr, without a doubt you brought gold west from Garðar. Loyal-minded prince, you steered vigorously in the hard storm, and the ships pitched; you sighted Sigtuna when the sea-spray eased.) (Gade 2009c, 304–5)8
This stanza contains neither the name of the king, nor the name of his young wife, nor any East European toponyms, but it is known from Stúfs þáttr that around 1060 the skald travelled to Norway and became Haraldr’s retainer there, so that scholars have no doubt as to the addressee of this poem. The same marriage is reported by Adam of Bremen (III:13, schol. 62): “Haroldus a Grecia regressus filiam regis Ruziae Gerzlef uxorem accepit” (“When Harold returned from Greece, he married the daughter of the king of Russia, Yaroslav”) (Adam 1917, 153; Adam 2002, 124). In the spring, Haraldr departed from Hólmgarðr via Aldeigjuborg to Sweden. The sagas tell this with reference to a Poem about Haraldr harðráði by the Icelandic skald Valgarðr á Velli (stanza 5):
Finnur Jónsson believed that by “the most splendid cargo” the skald without doubt had in mind Ellisif (Hkr 1893–1901, 4:213). The Icelandic annals tell s.a. 1045: “Haralldr Sigvrðar sonr kom til Sviþioðar” (“Haraldr Sigurðarson came to Sweden”) (IA 1888, 108). This enables us to conclude that the marriage of Haraldr and Elisabeth was concluded during the winter of 1044/1045. 8 With my emendation in translation: Garðar instead of Russia.
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No source, telling about Haraldr’s departure from Rus’, mentions Elizabeth on this journey with him. Still, one might conclude that she accompanied her husband on the basis of the absence of any hints in the sagas at their two daughters—Maria and Ingigerðr (also unknown, like Elisabeth, to Russian sources, but mentioned in Morkinskinna, Fagrskinna, Heimskringla, and Hulda)—being twins: otherwise Haraldr and Elisabeth who, according to the sagas, had spent together one spring between their wedding and Haraldr’s sailing away, would have only one daughter. This is also confirmed by the following remark in the sagas (if they can be trusted) that many years later, leaving Norway, Haraldr took Queen Ellisif, Maria, and Ingigerðr with him. He left Ellisif and their two daughters, according to Heimskringla and Hulda, in the Orkney Islands, and sailed to England (Hkr 1951, 178–79; Hkr 2015, 108). Maria died on the same day and at the same hour, the sagas tell, as in England her father King Haraldr fell (Msk 2011, 1:117– 18; Msk 2000, 149; Fask 1985, 290; Fask 2004, 232; Hkr 1951, 197; Hkr 2015, 119; Fms 1831, 6:427). Queen Ellisif and Ingigerðr, having spent one winter in Orkney, set off in the spring from the west (Hkr 1951, 197; Hkr 2015, 119; Fms 1831, 6:428). Since that time, Elisabeth is no longer mentioned in the sagas. The marriage of Haraldr Sigurðarson and Elizaveta Yaroslavna strengthened Russian–Norwegian ties that had been friendly at the time of Óláfr Haraldsson—at least beginning with 1022 when Óláfr sœnski (the Swedish), Yaroslavs’s father-in-law, died, his son Ǫnundr-Jákob came to power in Sweden and soon concluded an alliance with Óláfr Haraldsson against Cnut the Great (see Melnikova 1997b)—and at the time of Magnús the Good enthroned in Norway not without participation of Yaroslav the Wise. In addition, this marriage led to a temporary alliance between Haraldr and a powerful Jarl Sveinn Úlfsson, the future Danish king, better known after his maternal line as Sven Estridsen (ca. 1047–1076). Morkinskinna, as well as the other compendia of the kings’ sagas and Knýtlinga saga, emphasize that their alliance (félagskap) rested not only on their mutual claim to Norway and Denmark (ruled over at that time by Magnús the Good), but also on the newly established family relations (through the marriage of Haraldr and Ellisif): Ok [beiddi Sveinn at] þeir skyldi binda saman lag sitt um vandræði þau, er þeir váru báðir ættbornir mjǫk til ríkja þeira er Magnús konungr sat yfir, ok talði til mágsemðir víð Haraldr. Sveini var frændsemi við Ellisif, konu Haralds, dóttur Jarizleifs konungs ok Ingigerðar, dóttur Óláfs. Systir Óláfs var Ástríðr, móðir Sveins, því at Sigríðr in stórráða vat móðir þeira beggja, Óláfs konungs ok Ástríðar. (Msk 2011, 1:119. Cf. Fask 1985, 238–39; Fask 2004, 192; Hkr 1951, 91; Hkr 2015, 54; Fms 1831, 6:173)
(*Sveinn proposed* that they should join forces in light of the common issue that their birth entitled them to the realms that King Magnús ruled. He claimed kinship with Haraldr since he was related to Haraldr’s wife Ellisif, the daughter of Yaroslav and Ingigerðr, who was the daughter of Óláfr. Óláfr’s sister was Ástríðr, Sveinn’s mother, because Sigríðr en stórráða was the mother of both King Óláfr and Ástríðr.) (Msk 2000, 150)
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Ellisif’s grandfather and Sveinn’s mother were only half-brother and sister, yet this marriage led to an inevitable alliance between Ellisif’s husband Haraldr and Jarl Sveinn. A modern eye may find these family relations rather distant, yet they meant a lot for a medieval man.9 Sverre Bagge believes that “Haraldr harðráði, coming from abroad and apparently lacking a strong kindred—and female relatives?—goes to the fairly unusual step of marrying the Norwegian magnate Þorbergr Árnason’s daughter Þóra” (Bagge 1991, 134). The earliest source presenting Þóra as Haraldr’s wife is Morkinskinna, which tells how he was well disposed—better than any of the Norwegian kings—towards Icelanders, how he helped them during a great famine in Iceland, how he sent them a church bell, and how he presented great gifts to those who visited him. He appointed the Icelander Úlfr Óspaksson as his marshal and gave Jórunn Þorbergsdóttir to him in marriage. “Þá hafði Haraldr konungr sjálfr gǫrt brúðkaup til Þóru Þorbergsdóttur, systur Jórunnar” (“King Haraldr had himself married Þorberg’s daughter Þóra, Jórunn’s sister”) (Msk 2011, 1:206; Msk 2000, 204. See also Fask 1985, 262; Fask 2004, 209; Hkr 1951, 120; Hkr 2015, 71), says the saga. And it adds that in Haraldr’s time “váru Arnmœðlingar mestir lendra manna í Nóregi fyrir sakir mægða við konung” (“the Arnmœðlingar were the greatest magnates in Norway because of their relationship by marriage to the king”) (Msk 2011, 1:206; Msk 2000, 205). As is specified in Heimskringla, Haraldr married Þóra “inn næsta vetr eptir en Magnús konungr inn góði andaðisk” (“the next winter after King Magnús inn góði died”) (Hkr 1951, 112; Hkr 2015, 66), i.e., in 1048. The sons of Haraldr and Þóra were, according to the sagas, Magnús and Óláfr (Msk 2011, 1:206; Msk 2000, 204; Hkr 1951, 112; Hkr 2015, 66; Fms 1831, 6:255), the future kings Magnús Haraldsson (1066–1069) and Óláfr inn kyrri (the Quiet) (1066–1093). So, if we trust the only sources available to us on this issue, it turns out that Haraldr married Þóra at the time when he had already been king of Norway for more than two years, one of them as an absolute ruler. In the light of this an assertion that Haraldr’s second marriage was caused by the fact that his marriage to Elisabeth “did not bring the expected results” (Glazyrina 1988, 16) seems to me erroneous. On the contrary, the assistance of Yaroslav the Wise, who had saved Haraldr’s treasure, granted him temporary shelter, and equipped him on his way to his homeland, as well as the opportunity (due to kinship acquired through this marriage) of a political alliance between Haraldr and the opponent of King Magnús, Jarl Sveinn, led to the union of King Magnús (son of St. Óláfr) and Haraldr (half-brother of St. Óláfr) and sharing power over Norway. Though the sources unanimously call Þóra Haraldr’s wife, this statement raises certain doubts, which have already been formulated by Alexander Bugge (1914, 28–30) and Halfdan Koht (1926). I have shared and supported their opinion elsewhere (Jackson 1999). History knows many examples of heirs to the thrones born from concubines and bondwomen of the kings, and this, scholars believe, was common practice brought about, especially in the upper strata of society, by a desire to leave behind one or more heirs 9 On the importance of marriage relations in Norway for forging political ties, see Bagge 1991, 119.
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(cf. Sawyer, Sawyer 1996, 169–70).10 According to church precepts, monogamy was the norm in medieval Norway, but it is clear that monogamy was not strictly observed: this is indicated, at least, by the carefully stipulated rights of inheritance of illegitimate children: thus, clause 57 of Gulatingslov points that even a child born of a bondwoman could become free and have the same rights as his father (see Zaks 1986, 24). It is likely that Þóra was not a wife of Haraldr bought for the mundr (wedding gift), but his concubine. If, indeed, the purpose of this union was to acquire “a strong kindred,” then, as Sverre Bagge has revealed, “the king’s concubines and illegitimate sons serve to form alliances in a similar way, as does the institution of fostering” (Bagge 1991, 120). The union of Haraldr and Þóra, in addition to political motives, could be caused by the fact that Haraldr and Elizaveta Yaroslavna had no sons, successors to the kin and heirs. A question naturally arises: why did tradition preserve the image of Þóra as a wife, and not as a concubine, of Haraldr? As has been noted above, scholars connect the spread of oral tradition about the Norwegian king Haraldr Sigurðarson in Iceland with the name of Halldórr Snorrason (Andersson 1985, 226). This is what Snori Sturluson says: Menn íslenzkir eru nefndir, þeir er fóru þar með Haraldi: Halldórr, sonr Snorra góða—hann hafði þessa frásǫgn hingat til lands—annarr var Úlfr, sonr Óspaks, sonar Ósvífrs ins spaka. Þeir váru báðir inir sterkustu menn ok allvápndjarfir ok váru inir kærstu Haraldi. (Hkr 1951, 79)
(There are Icelandic men named that were on this expedition with Haraldr, Snorri goði’s son Halldórr (he brought this story back to this country), secondly there was Úlfr, son of Óspakr, son of Ósvífrs ins spaki (the Wise). They were both the strongest of men and very bold fighters and most dear to Haraldr.) (Hkr 2015, 47)
It is easy to admit that they were friends with each other. The fact that Halldórr and Úlfr had been in Constantinople with King Haraldr is also mentioned by Morkinskinna and Fagrskinna (Msk 2011, 1:109; Msk 2000, 145; Fask 1985, 235; Fask 2004, 189). In this case, why could Halldórr not bring to Iceland a version more favourable for his friend Úlfr, who was married to Jórunn, the sister of Þóra? On the contrary, the above material, in spite of its fragmentary and indirect character, convinces me that Elizaveta Yaroslavna remained a Norwegian queen for more than twenty years, from the winter of 1044/ 1045 until the death of her husband, Haraldr Sigurðarson, on September 25, 1066, at the Battle of Stamford Bridge. Our account shows that Haraldr Sigurðarson’s stay in Rus’ is confirmed by poems of at least four skalds. His military service with Prince Jarizleifr is described in the sagas in accordance with the stereotype of portrayal of Norwegian kings outside their own country. The story of Morkinskinna about Haraldr’s marriage to the Russian princess as a motive to go to Miklagarðr (Constantinople) is not confirmed by any other sources. Saga stories of Haraldr’s military service in Byzantium greatly exaggerate his military 10 See examples in Bugge 1914, 29. See also Uspenskiy 2001.
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achievements, which can be judged on the basis of comparison with an authentic source—the Strategikon by Kekaumenos. Haraldr’s marriage to a Russian princess, not known to Old Russian sources, is nevertheless a real fact, as it is known to Icelandic skalds and Adam of Bremen. I have also tried to show that Haraldr’s second wife, according to the sagas, was his concubine, while Elizaveta Yaroslavna remained the queen of Norway until her husband’s death.
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CONCLUSION THIS BOOK HAS investigated the Old Norse-Icelandic texts as a source for the history of Eastern Europe, and Old Rus’ in particular. These texts comprise skaldic poetry, runic inscriptions, sagas (Íslendinga-, konunga-, byskupa-, fornaldarsögur), chronicles, books of homilies, and lives of saints, geographical treatises, and annals. The book begins with an introduction to the first three (I would say, the main) groups of sources, while all the rest are discussed when necessary. The book continues with fourteen chapters grouped into two parts of completely different character, the first one dealing with the geographical image of Eastern Europe, the second one devoted to investigating a specific, important issue among those issues connected with the history of Old Rus’. The character of historical information contained in the sources clearly indicates that they reflect the period preceding their recording, in any case not later than the mid- thirteenth century. Accordingly, the ethno-geographical nomenclature of the works of Old Norse literature is rather archaic. It is most logical to assume that it was formed via the acquaintance of Scandinavians with the territories in Eastern Europe. Although it is hardly possible to establish the exact time of its formation, still we have its upper chronological boundary, a terminus ante quem: this is the year 839 of Annales Bertiniani (Annals of Saint Bertin), under which we have the first evidence of the existence of Slavic–Scandinavian relations. On the basis of our analysis, we can speak of the existence in Scandinavia of two ethno-geographical traditions recorded in skaldic verses, runic inscriptions and early kings’ sagas, on the one hand, and in late kings’ sagas, geographical treatises, skaldic þulur, and sagas of ancient times, on the other, and reflecting a certain spatial and temporal sequence of Scandinavian penetration into Eastern Europe. An important result of the study of Old Norse place-names of Old Rus’ and Eastern Europe in general is the conclusion that in their formation there is a general tendency towards the obligatory reproduction of the phonetic appearance of local geographical names. Toponymic data enable us to better visualize the time of Scandinavian appearance in Eastern Europe and the sequence of the development of a vast territory (from the Eastern Baltic and the Ladoga area to the central regions), to determine the region of the earliest and most intensive Slavic–Scandinavian contacts (Upper Rus’, Garðar/Garðaríki, with Ladoga, Aldeigja/Aldeigjuborg, and Ryurikovo Gorodishche/Novgorod, Hólmgarðr), and also establish the character of Scandinavian presence (the lack of more detailed information definitely indicates that contacts with the local population were achieved only along the main routes and were confined to the main centres on these routes). The above issues are discussed in part 1 of the book. In terms of the chronology of events connected with Eastern Europe that are described in the sagas, three periods can be distinguished. The information of sagas, skaldic verses, and runic inscriptions about campaigns of Scandinavian Vikings along the Austrvegr (“the Eastern way”), in the Eastern Baltic, and on the White Sea coast refers to the earliest. During the second period Old Rus’ is the focal point of attention among
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the lands in Eastern Europe. Information, preserved mainly in the sagas, concerns the reigns of two great princes of Kiev, Vladimir Svyatoslavich (978–1015), and Yaroslav Vladimirovich the Wise (1016–1054). A small number of data (mostly on marriages of the rulers of Old Rus’ and Scandinavian countries) refer to the third period, the late eleventh, twelfth and early thirteenth century. Sagas also contain some information on the reign of the great prince Alexander Nevskiy (1250–1263). Old Norse sources reflect Russian–Scandinavian political, matrimonial, trade, and cultural relations. Some of this information is of no interest to historians because it only repeats what is well known from other sources. Some information, on the other hand, is unique and, after checking its reliability, can rightly serve as a basis for reconstructing the past. For instance, the data on Russian–Scandinavian trade are important, primarily, from the chronological point of view, since the sources refer to the events of the ninth to the eleventh centuries, and the sources themselves date from the ninth to the fourteenth centuries, while all other sources available to scholars characterize trade relations of Novgorod with Northern and Western Europe at earliest in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Old Norse sources also point to the existence of a church dedicated to St. Óláfr in Novgorod, while Russian chronicles and other documents note the existence of the Varangian church, or churches, in Novgorod, but they do not mention the name of the patron. Old Norse sources preserve valuable information concerning the matrimonial relations of the Russian ruling dynasty with the Scandinavian royal houses in the eleventh and the first half of the twelfth century, while none of the Russian–Scandinavian marriages is mentioned in the Russian chronicles. In the story of the kings’ sagas about the marriage of King Jarizleifr, Russian prince Yaroslav the Wise, and Ingigerðr, the daughter of the Swedish king Óláfr Eiríksson, it is reported that Ingigerðr received as a wedding gift from her husband the town of Ladoga and the region that belonged to it, and gave those lands to her kinsman, Jarl Rǫgnvaldr Úlfsson. This transfer of Ladoga in the early eleventh century first to the Swedish princess, and then to the noble Norwegian, though unknown to Russian sources, is considered by scholars to have happened in reality. In part 2 of the book, the reader is presented with only one block of unique information—namely, the data of skaldic verses and the kings’ sagas about the stay in Rus’ of four Norwegian kings: Óláfr Tryggvason in 977–986, Óláfr Haraldsson in 1029, Magnús Óláfsson from 1029 to 1035, and Haraldr Sigurðarson twice, in the early 1030s and in mid-1040s. Its uniqueness is determined by the fact that Russian sources that know Scandinavians in Rus’ do not mention the names of those Norwegian kings who were in the service of the Russian princes, nor do they mention the sons of the Norwegian kings who were brought up at the Russian court. The result of this study is as follows: despite the fact that “the sagas are not primary sources of the age they are dealing with, but an adaptation and interpretation of that history and culture” (Meulengraht Sørensen 1992, 28), and that East European history is dealt with in the sagas and other Old Norse sources only when it is necessary for the plot, these texts can and should be granted high value among foreign sources for the history of Eastern Europe and its central political formation, the Old Russian state.
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Primary sources have been combined with secondary literature, since their editions are as a rule accompanied by vast commentaries to which I often refer, and which represent good scholarly research. The necessity of quoting Russian scholars in Latin script, but preserving at the same time the Cyrillic spelling of their names and works, turned the bibliography—with the permission of the editors—into a kind of a “list of abbreviations,” which is why the abbreviations are spread over this list. Icelanders are listed by their given name rather than by patronymic. The following alphabetical order is followed: a, á, b, c, d, ð, e, é, f, g, h, i, í, j, k, l, ł, m, n, o, ó, p, q, r, s, t, u, ú, ü, v, w, x, y, ý, z, þ, æ, œ, ö, ǫ, å.
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INDEX
The index includes names and terms mostly in two languages: English and Old Icelandic. Old Icelandic words are followed by the English translations in parentheses, like in “Aldeigja (Ladoga)”. When it makes sense to list an English word that has an Old Icelandic (or Latin) equivalent, the latter is put in square brackets, like in “Asia [Ásíá/Asía]”. Scholars of the nineteenth to the twenty-first centuries are listed only if mentioned no less than two times (bibliographical references are not counted). The following alphabetical order is followed: a, á, b, c, d, ð, e, é, f, g, h, i, í, j, k, l, ł, m, n, o, ó, p, q, r, s, t, u, ú, ü, v, w, x, y, ý, z, þ, ä, æ, œ, ö, ø, ǫ, å.
Adam of Bremen, Gesta hammaburgensis ecclesiae pontificum (History of the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen), 15, 23, 34, 35, 46, 48n7, 117, 131, 156, 166, 170 Aðalsteinn (Athelstan), king of England, 54, 147 Aðalsýsla (Läänemaa), mainland in Estonia, 37, 38 Aldeigja (Ladoga), 7, 8, 46, 59, 77, 84–87, 171; see also Aldeigjuborg, Ladoga Aldeigjuborg (Ladoga), 46, 71, 76, 77, 84–90, 102, 103, 114, 147, 151, 158, 166, 171; see also Aldeigja, Ladoga Alexander Nevskiy, prince of Novgorod, great prince of Vladimir, 15, 76, 99, 172 Alfred (Ælfrede), Anglo-Saxon king, Old English Orosius, 23, 35, 107, 108 Allógía/Allogia, wife of Valdamarr, 119 Andersson, Theodor M., 9, 10, 118, 121, 146 Andrey Yaroslavich [Andrés], prince of Suzdal’, great prince of Vladimir, 99 annals Annales Bertiniani (Annals of Saint Bertin), 14n12, 171 Danish annals, 15 English annals (Anglo-Saxon Chronicle) 117 Icelandic annals, 1, 15, 16 (Annales Regii), 88, 110, 113, 117 (AR), 133, 141 (AR), 166, 171 Arab silver, Kufic coins, 33, 47, 61, 67, 79 Ari Þorgilsson, Íslendingabók, 117, 132 Asia [Ásíá/Asía], 31, 36, 55, 61–63, 141, 161 Atlantic Ocean, 10, 20, 21, 24, 39, 108 Austmarr (“Eastern Sea”), Baltic Sea, 20, 33, 35–38, 40, 41; see also Baltic Sea, Eystrasalt Austrhálfa, eastern part/quarter/region of the world, 20–22, 26, 35
Austrlǫnd (“Eastern Lands”), 23, 26–30, 35 Austrríki (“Eastern state”), 23, 26, 28, 30, 31, 47, 48, 66, 79, 164 Austrvegr/Austrvegir (“Eastern way/ways”, “East Baltic lands”), 7, 20, 23–30, 35, 37, 39, 48, 59, 66, 78, 79, 87, 111, 126, 129, 156, 159, 171 Austrvegsmenn (Sg. Austrvegsmaðr), peoples of Austrvegr, 30, 37 Álaborg/Áluborg, 71, 77, 93, 102, 103 Álfhildr, King Óláfr Haraldsson’s concubine, mother of King Magnús, 145 Álfífa (Ælfgifu), concubine of King Knútr, mother of King Sveinn, 131, 148 Ásta Guðbrandsdóttir, mother of Óláfr Haraldsson and Haraldr Sigurðarson, 132, 155 Ástríðr Eiríksdóttir, mother of Ólafr Tryggvason, 78, 119, 121, 122 Ástríðr Óláfsdóttir, wife of Ólafr Haraldsson, 132–34, 143, 150, 151 Ástríðr Sveinsdóttir, mother of Sveinn Úlfsson, 150
background knowledge, 10, 11, 14, 50 Baetke, Walter, 118, 119, 121 Bagge, Sverre, 12n9, 149, 168, 169 Baltic lands, 8, 15, 21, 35, 95; peoples, 37, 41, 45; region, 33 (circum-Baltic region, 39) Baltic Sea, 6, 8, 21, 24, 25, 28–30, 33–41, 43, 44, 46, 48, 50, 60, 76, 78, 86, 91, 103, 118, 121, 128, 147, 152, 156, 159; see also Austmarr, Balticum mare, Eystrasalt, Scythian Lake Balticum mare, 34, 35, 38; see also Baltic Sea battles battle of Eiríkr bloðøx with the Bjarmar, 112 battle of Haraldr gráfeldr with the Bjarmar, 112
208
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index
battles (cont.) Battle of Helgeå (1026), 134 Battle of Nesjar (1015), 132 Battle of Stamford Bridge (1066), 169 Battle of Stiklastaðir (Stiklestad) (1030), 3, 115, 131, 139, 148, 155 Battle of Svǫlðr (1000), 117, 132 Bede, Historia ecclesiastica, 127 Beloozero, 102, 103 Bergr Sokkason, abbot in Munkaþverá, possible compiler of Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, 117 Birger, Swedish jarl, 99 Birka, proto-urban centre of the Baltic Sea region, 33, 44 biskupa sögur (“episcopal sagas,” tales of Icelandic bishops), 9, 57 Kristni saga, 45, 48, 56–58, 93 Þorvalds þáttr viðförla, 45, 58 Bjarmaland/Biarmia/Biarmonia, White Sea region, 20–22, 54, 55, 100, 105, 107, 109–14; see also Bjarmar Bjarmar/Beormas/Biarmones (Bjarms), 8, 25, 26, 28, 54, 100, 107, 109–12; see also Bjarmaland Bjarni Aðalbjarnarson, 19, 38, 39, 151 Bjǫrn digri, King Óláfr Haraldsson’s marshal, 141 Black Sea [Svartahaf, Pontus], 9, 43–45, 47, 48, 51, 60, 62, 63, 68, 164 Blom, Grethe Authén, 113, 114 Borgundarhólmr/Hólmr (Bornholm), 46 Boulhosa, Patricia, 9, 12n8 Brandr enn víðfǫrli (Brandr the Far-Traveller), 57, 58 Braslaw/Braslaw Zawelski, Braslaw lake system, 58–59 Braun, Feodor/Friedrich, vii, 65, 72, 119 Brim, V. A., 46, 56, 60 Bugge, Alexander, 119, 168 Bulgar, capital of Volga Bulgaria, 44, 80 Bulgaria (in southeastern Europe), 161, 164 Bulgaria/Volga Bulgaria/Volga–Kama Bulgaria (at the confluence of the Volga and Kama rivers), 142 Burizlafr Valdamarsson (Svyatopolk Vladimirovich, great prince of Kiev), 75, 120 Byzantium, Byzantine empire, 19, 21, 25, 28, 43, 45, 47, 49, 79, 80, 100, 128–30, 138, 149, 155, 157, 159–64, 166, 169; see also Greece
Caspian Sea, 9, 43, 49 Chud’ of Estonia, 122 Zavolochskaya, 110
churches Christ’s Church in Nidaros, 132 Hagia Sophia in Constantinople and St. Sophia Cathedrals in Kiev, Novgorod, and Polotsk, 94 St. John the Baptist church/cathedral/ monastery, not far from Polotsk, 57–59 St. Óláfr’s church at the Gotlandic Yard in Novgorod, 77, 81, 82, 84, 140, 141, 143, 172; see also varjazhskaja (“Varangian”) church St. Peter’s church at the German Yard in Novgorod, 81 varjazhskaja (“Varangian”) church in Novgorod, 81, 172; see also St. Óláfr’s church Constantine Porphyrogenitus, De administrando imperio, 83, 163 Cross, Samuel H., 119, 128
Dagö (Hiiumaa), 45 Danish islands and straits, 24, 35 Danparstaðir, 57, 71, 93, 104 Denmark, Danes [Danmǫrk, Danir], 8, 21, 28, 30, 31, 34, 35, 37, 38, 67, 121, 125, 128, 131, 132, 134, 143, 151, 153, 167 Desna, East European river, 45, 56 Dnieper [Danpr, Nepr], East European river, 29, 43–50, 53, 56–61, 63, 71, 74, 83, 97, 100–2, 104 Dnieper–Dvina interfluve area, 110, 111 Domesnes (Cape Kolkasrags), 45 Don [Dún, Tanais], East European river, 44, 45, 47, 49, 50, 53, 55, 58, 60–63 Donets Severskiy, East European river, 47, 48, 61 Dröfn/Drǫfn/Drafn, a river not far from Polotsk, 45, 53, 55, 57, 58
East (orient, Eastern world), 43, 100 East European Plain, 45, 47, 55, 61, 84 East(ern) Baltic lands/territories/area/ region, 7, 14, 24, 29, 30, 37, 60, 79, 85, 110, 122, 132, 171 Ebstorf Map, 95 Eddic poetry, 2, 23, 104, 165 Eilífr Rǫgnvaldsson, jarl, 88, 89, 158, 159 Einarr þambarskelfir/þambarskelmir, Norwegian magnate, 90, 147, 148, 151 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni, 34, 35 Eiríkr eimuni Eiríksson, Danish king, 15 Eiríkr Hákonarson, Norwegian jarl, 7, 86–88, 91 Eistland, Eistr (Estonia, Estonians), 8, 29, 30, 37, 38, 74, 117–19, 121 Ellisíf/Elisabeth/Elizaveta Yaroslavna, 15, 17, 115, 155, 160, 164–70
209
England, 1, 14, 21, 22, 53, 54, 65, 74, 78, 80, 127, 131, 132, 136, 141, 147, 151, 167 Englert, Anton, 108, 109 Erlingr Skjálgsson, Norwegian magnate, 134 Europe [Európá/Eneá, Eyropa], European continent, vii, 1, 21, 48, 51, 55, 61, 62, 78, 95 Central, 24n5 Eastern, vii, 1, 6–9, 12–14, 19–21, 25, 28, 30, 31, 38, 43, 47, 48, 54, 63, 65, 67, 68, 74, 76, 77, 94, 99, 105, 110, 113, 114, 118, 171, 172 northeastern, 33 Northern, 24, 33, 40, 100, 172 southeastern, 33 southern, 33, 60 Western, 14, 20n2, 85, 100, 105, 172 Eymundr Hringsson, 75–77, 90, 94 Eysteinn Erlendsson, Archbishop of Nidaros, 81, 132 Eystrasalt/Salt/Salt it Eystra (“More Eastern Sea”), Baltic Sea, 8, 35, 38–41, 152; see also Austmarr, Baltic Sea Eysýsla/Sýsla/Eycisla/Eysisla (Saaremaa, Ösel), 8, 35, 38, 39, 45
Faroe Islands, 129 Fidjestøl, Bjarne, 3, 4, 6, 37 Finnland (Finland), Finns, 29, 30, 74 Finnmark, Finnar, 21, 23, 107–9, 111 Finnur Jónsson, 152, 166 Flateyjarbók, 17, 58, 75, 79, 89, 141, 145n2 folk/popular etymology, 35, 60, 65, 68, 73, 83, 98, 101, 102, 125 fornaldarsögur (“sagas of ancient times”), 1, 9, 48, 50, 66, 110, 113, 114 Bósa saga, 111, 113 Gautreks saga, 83 Göngu-Hrólfs saga, 49, 56, 71, 76, 102 Hauks þáttr hábrókar, 78–80, 100, 113 Hálfdanar saga Eysteinssonar, 77, 102, 114 Hálfs saga ok Hálfsrekka, 113 Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks, 104 Hversu Nóregr byggðisk, 24n7 Oddr Snorrason, Yngvars saga víðförla, 48–50 Sturlaugs saga starfsama, 113 Þíðreks saga af Bern, 45, 46, 96, 97 Örvar-Odds saga, 93, 97, 100, 113 four-part/quadripartite division of the oecumene, 21, 22, 35, 50 France, 14, 15, 21, 22, 55n2, 80 Franklin, Simon, 16, 72n2 Freyr, god in Norse mythology, 36, 165 fróðir menn (learned men), 5, 129 Fårö, island, 45
index
209
Gamanvísur (Jesting Vísur) see Haraldr inn harðráði Gandvík (Arctic Ocean, or White Sea), 8, 111, 111–12n4, 113 Garðar (Old Rus’), 6, 8, 17, 20, 26, 29, 33, 35, 63, 65–69, 73, 74, 76, 78, 79, 87, 89, 102, 110, 115, 119, 126, 135–37, 150–52, 155, 157, 165, 166, 171; see also Garðaríki Garðaríki (Old Rus’), 6, 20, 29, 40, 48–50, 56, 63, 65, 69, 71, 74–81, 84, 87, 88, 90, 93, 94, 95, 97, 98, 100, 117–19, 121–24, 126–29, 132–34, 139–43, 146, 148–51, 155, 156, 159, 164, 171 ríki Garðamanna, 125; see also Garðar Garðaveldi (Old Rus’), 66; see also Garðaríki Geira, queen of Wendland, wife of Óláfr Tryggvason, 128 Genealogia regum Danorum, 5 genealogical lore, 12, 15, 16, 118, 138 geographical ideas and images, 13, 14, 19, 21, 23, 25, 28, 33, 35, 36, 39, 40, 48, 50, 51, 55, 58, 61, 63, 74, 85, 95, 101, 103, 104, 108, 111n4, 112, 113, 138, 171 geographical treatises, 1, 14, 25, 30, 45, 46, 53, 55, 56, 59–61, 76, 82, 84, 85, 93–95, 98, 100, 101, 109, 111, 172 Hversu lǫnd liggja í verǫldinni, 93, 95, 98 Landalýsing I, 95, 101 Landalýsing III, 95 Germanic folklore, myth, and popular traditions, 22 heroic poetry, 104 lands, 24 languages, 24n6, 33, 60, 85 North, 22 settlements, 23 tribes, 24 Germany, 15, 80 Gerseka-borg (Gersike), 45 Gísli Sigurðsson, vii, 10, 14 Glazyrina, Galina V., 103, 161 Gnezdovo [Sýrnes Gaðar], settlement on the route “from the Varangians to the Greeks,” 46, 71, 93, 100–2 Gordon, Erma, 119, 124, 125, 128 Gorodishche, fortified settlement on the river Syas’, 103, 104 Gorodishche, fortified settlement on the river Volkhov, 68, 91 Gotland, 9, 45, 81, 135, 143 Greece [Grikland], 19, 34, 35, 45, 48, 126–28, 159, 166; see also Byzantium Greeks [Grikkir], 79, 80, 127, 128, 158, 162 Greenland, 109, 129 Guðríðr, daughter of Guthormr, the son of Steigar-Þórir, 155
210
210
index
Gulatingslov, 161, 169 Gulf of Bothnia, 111 Gulf of Finland, 40, 44–46, 60, 61, 73, 86, 152 Gulf of Riga, 44, 45 Gunnhildr, Mother of Kings, 119, 121 Gunnlaugr Leifsson, Icelandic monk, 57, 58, 117, 129 Guta saga, 19, 45, 135
Halldórr Snorrason, 155, 164, 169 Haraldr Bluetooth Gormsson, Danish king, 16 Haraldr gráfeldr (Grey-Cloak) Eiríksson, Norwegian king, 16, 26, 54, 109, 112 Haraldr inn grenski (the Grenlander), 132, 155 Haraldr inn harðráði (the Harsh Ruler) Sigurðarson, Norwegian king, 15, 16, 17, 28, 47, 82, 96, 115, 120, 132, 136, 138, 149, 153, 155–70, 172 Haraldr inn hárfagri (the Fine-Haired), Norwegian king, 2, 16, 17, 79, 113, 117, 132, 147, 153, 155 Haraldr Sigurðarson see Haraldr inn harðráði Haraldr Valdamarsson (Mstislav Vladimirovich), Old Russian prince, 7, 15, 76, 118–20, 158, 159 Haukr Erlendsson, Hauksbók, 57, 67, 81, 93, 95, 97, 100–2 Haukr hábrókr (Long-Leg), 79, 113, 147 Hákon Eiríksson, Hlaðajarl, ruler of Norway under Knútr inn ríki, 132, 134, 141 Hákon, friend of Gunnhildr, 121 Hákon Hákonarson, Norwegian king, 99 Hákon inn gamli, Swede, 121 Hákon inn ríki Sigurðarson, Hlaðajarl, ruler of Norway, 121 Hákon, son of Haraldr inn hárfagri, 147 Hedeby, proto-urban centre of the Baltic Sea region, 33, 44 Historia Norwegie, 23, 24n7, 35, 38, 77, 109, 111, 112, 117, 121, 123–25, 141 Holm, place-name related to Slavenskiy region in Novgorod, 72–74 *Holmgorod (*Хълмъ-городъ) see Hólmgarðr Holti, Old Russian prince Vsevolod Yaroslavich, 118–20 Holtsmark, Anne, 137, 138, 140 Honorius Augustodunensis (of Autun), Imago mundi, 35, 129, 130 Hólmgarðar (Novgorod Land), 73, 100 Hólmgarðr (Novgorod or Ryurikovo Gorodishche), 28, 29, 40, 46, 47, 50, 66, 67–68, 71–84, 90, 943–95, 98, 99, 115, 117, 118, 121–23, 135, 137, 138, 141, 151, 156, 161, 164–66, 171; Hólmgarðaborg/Nógarðr, 71, 76
Hólmshaf, Hólmr’s Sea, 46 hydronyms, 34n1, 35–40, 47, 48, 50, 53, 55, 57–60, 63, 85, 101, 104; see also place-names, toponymy Hålogaland, 107, 109
Iceland, Icelanders, vii, 5, 9, 13, 19–21, 43, 45, 48, 57, 59, 65, 67, 78, 93, 99, 107, 117, 122–25, 129, 130, 136, 142, 151, 155, 164, 168, 169 Igor’, Old Russian prince, 158 Il’men’ Lake, 40, 43, 44, 47, 68, 71–74 indirect information, 50, 77, 90, 128, 130, 142, 158, 169 Ingi Steinkelsson, Swedish king, 15, 120 Ingibjörg/Ingibjǫrg, daughter of Haraldr Valdamarsson, 15, 118, 120 Ingigerðr, daughter of Haraldr inn harðráði and Ellisíf, sister of Maria, 120, 167 Ingigerðr, daughter of Óláfr sœnski, wife of Jarizleifr, 15, 28, 75, 77, 82, 88–91, 115, 132–35, 140–43, 145–48, 158–60, 165, 167, 172 Isidore of Seville, Etymologies, 50, 61, 62 Íslendingasögur (“sagas of Icelanders”), 5, 9 Bjarnar saga Hítdælakappa, 138 Egils saga Skalla-Grímssonar, 5, 54, 112, 124 Fostbræðra saga, 23 Laxdæla saga, 78 Stúfs þáttr, 166
Jerusalem [Jórsalaheimr], 19, 22, 45, 57, 78, 142, 161 Jesch, Judith, 1, 72n2, 151 Jones, Gwyn, 119, 125, 126 Jordanes, Gothic historian, 104 Jómali, god of the Bjarms, 109, 113 Jórunn Þorbergsdóttir, wife of Úlfr Óspaksson, sister of Þóra Þorbergsdóttir, 168, 169 Jutland, 23, 24
Kandalaksha/Kandalaks/Kantalahti Bay, 110–12 Kasplya, East European river, 101 Kaupang, proto-urban centre of the Baltic Sea region, 33, 44 Kálfr Árnason, Norwegian magnate, 90, 135, 148, 149, 151 Kekaumenos, Strategikon (Λόγος νουθετητικός), 160–62, 170 Kholopiy gorodok, fortified settlement on the Volkhov, 68, 91 Kiev, 15, 44, 48, 75, 88, 100, 101, 104, 122, 123, 138, 163, 164, 172; see also Kænugarðr
211
Kiev Land [Kænugarðar], 94 Kirjálaland, Kirjálir (Karelia, Karelians), 29, 30, 31, 60, 61 74, 110, 112 Kleiber, Boris, 72, 73, 103, 160 Klerkon, Estonian, 123 Knútr inn ríki (Cnut the Great), Danish king, 131, 135, 136 Knútr lavarðr Eiríksson, brother of Eiríkr eimuni, 15, 120 Koht, Halfdan, 11, 12, 168 Kola Peninsula, 108, 110 Konstantinus Monomakus (Constantine Monomachos), Byzantine Emperor, 162 konungasögur (“kings’ sagas”), vii, 4, 5, 9–11, 16, 28, 29, 36, 63, 68, 76, 82, 83, 109, 110, 113, 124, 166, 167, 171, 172; see also Snorri Sturluson Ágrip af Nóregskonunga sǫgum, 15, 28, 29, 66, 77, 117, 119, 121, 123–25, 132, 133, 141, 145, 146, 148, 155, 156 Ágrip af sǫgu danakonunga, 15 Eymundar þáttr, 75, 77, 82n9, 88, 90, 93, 94, 133 Fagrskinna, 15, 29, 47, 66, 87, 88, 112, 117, 119, 125, 126, 132, 133, 135, 141, 143, 145, 155, 156–59, 162, 164, 165, 167, 169 Færeyinga saga, 78 Hulda, 47, 145n2, 153, 156–59, 164, 165n6, 167 Karls þáttr vesæla, 146, 147 Knýtlinga saga, 15, 167 Legendary Saga of St. Óláfr, 15, 77, 132, 135, 139n11, 140–43, 145 Magnúss saga góða ok Haralds harðráða, 145, 155 Morkinskinna, 9, 15, 28, 29, 40, 46, 47, 66, 77, 124, 133, 145, 146, 148, 149, 151, 153, 155–59, 164, 165, 167–69 Oddr Snorrason, Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar, 9, 23, 24n7, 28, 66, 77, 78, 85, 117–19, 121–30, 138 Oldest Saga of St. Óláfr, 9, 132, 134, 135 Orkneyinga saga, 24n7, 46, 145, 165, 167 Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, 58, 66, 77, 117, 118, 122, 123, 126, 128, 129, 145 Sturla Þórðarson, Hákonar saga Hákonarsonar, 22, 76, 99, 100, 114 Styrmir Kárason, *Óláfs saga helga, 132 Krag, Claus, 12n9, 16, 23n4, 37 Kristín, daughter of Ingi Steinkelsson, 15, 120 Kuma (Kama), East European river, 53, 55, 60 Kúrland, Kúrir (Courland, Curonians), 29, 30, 45, 74, 121 Kvenland, 111 Kænugarðr/Kœnugarðr/Kiænugarðr (Kiev), 45, 50, 57, 67, 68, 71, 74, 76, 82–84, 93–95 see also Kiev
index
211
Ladoga region/volost’, 89–91, 114, 158, 172 Ladoga/Old Ladoga, proto-urban centre of the Baltic Sea region, 8, 33, 40, 44, 46, 61, 63, 67, 68, 69, 71, 85–91, 101–3, 114, 142, 156, 158, 171, 172; see also Aldeigja, Aldeigjuborg Ladoga Lake, 40, 46, 60, 61, 73, 85, 86, 103, 110, 114 Ladozhka (Ladoga River), 85, 87, 101 Landnámabók, 78, 81 Lewis, A. R., 79, 80 Lifland, the land of Livs, 45 Litavrin, G. G., 162, 164 Lithuania, Lithuanian state, 58, 94, 95 Lovat’, East European river, 43, 44, 46, 60 Lyashchenko, Arkadiy, 76, 149, 161, 163 Lyubsha, fortified settlement on the Volkhov, 68, 91 Lönnroth, Lars, 118, 128, 129 Magnús Haraldsson, Norwegian king, 168 Magnús Hákonarson, Norwegian king, 99 Magnús inn góði (the Good) Óláfsson, Norwegian king, 29, 30, 39, 40, 46, 78, 80, 90, 115, 124, 133, 138, 143, 145–53, 155, 167, 168, 172 Maria, daughter of Haraldr inn harðráði and Ellisíf, sister of Ingigerðr, 120, 167 Maskovichi, archaeological site, 58 mágar (in-laws), mágsemð (affinity), 123, 132, 133, 143, 167, 168 Málmfriðr, daughter of Haraldr Valdamarsson, 15, 120 Mediterranean Sea, 41, 51, 62 Melnikova, Elena, 56, 57, 60, 65, 73, 93–95, 137, 139n11, 141 mental maps, 13, 19–21, 35, 41, 50, 51, 112, 142 merchants [kaupmenn] Áli/Óli, Óláfr Tryggvason’s nickname as a merchant, 78, 150 Gilli gerzki (going to Garðar), 78 Guðleikr gerzki (going to Garðar), 78, 80 Hólmgarðsfari (going to Hólmgarðr), 78, 80, 81, 150 Hrafn Hólmgarðsfari, 78 Karl and Bjǫrn, brothers, Nowegians, 147 Norwegian/Scandinavian in Rus’, 8, 14, 78–81, 95, 100, 109, 129, 147, 150 Russian in Europe, 78 (Skinna-)Björn/Bjǫrn (Fur-Björn) Hólmgarðsfari, 78, 81 Michael IV the Paphlagonian, Byzantine Emeperor, 161–63 Michael V Calaphates/the Caulker, Byzantine Emeperor, 161–63
212
212
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Michael kátalaktús, Byzantine Emeperor in Haralds saga Sigurðarsonar, 161; see also Michael IV, Michael V Miklagarðr, Garðr (Constantinople), 28, 39, 40, 44, 45, 47, 48, 57, 66–68, 73, 74, 82, 94, 115, 156, 159–65, 169 Móramar (Murom), 47, 71, 74, 93, 97, 98, 100 Munch, P. A., 10, 160
Neva [Nyia], East European river, 40, 44–46, 53, 55, 60, 61, 73, 85, 86 Nidaros (Trondheim), 132, 134 Noonan, Thomas, 14n11, 43, 68n6, 122 Norðr(h)álfa, northern part/quarter/region of the world, 22 Norðrlǫnd (“Northern lands”), 23, 27 Norðrvegar (“Northern ways”), 23, 24 North Sea, 23, 24 Northern Dvina [Vína], East European river, 8, 26, 28, 44, 45, 53–55, 63, 108–14 Norway, 1, 2, 8–11, 13, 16, 21–24, 28, 29, 35, 38, 40, 58, 67, 79, 80, 99, 107–9, 111, 114, 115, 117, 118, 125, 129, 131–35, 137, 139, 141–43, 145, 147–53, 155, 156, 166–70; see also Nóregr Norwegians [Norðmenn], 22, 79, 80, 89, 90, 100, 105, 108, 109, 125, 129, 131, 148 noble Norwegians/magnates/best men, 29, 40, 46, 90, 91, 122, 138, 145, 147, 148, 153, 168, 172 Nosov, Evgeniy N., 67, 73 Novgorod, 15, 44, 86, 88, 91, 99, 100, 101, 110, 113, 114, 122, 125, 138, 141–43, 150, 156, 158, 172; Novgorodians, 114; see also Hólmgarðr Torgovaya Storona, marketplace, 77–79, 81, 82, 123 Yaroslavovo Dvorishche, 74 Slavno/Slavenskiy region, 73–75 Novgorod Land, 22, 67, 91, 95, 100, 102, 103 Novye Duboviki, fortified settlement on the Volkhov, 68, 91 Nóregr (Norway), 2, 23, 24, 27, 134, 146, 147, 149, 168; see also Norway Nórr/Nóri, eponym for “Nóregr,” 24 Ocean [Oc(c)eanus, úthaf, útsjár], 35, 61, 62 Western, 34, 35 Northern (septentrionalis), 61, 62, 131 Ohthere, Norwegian, informant of King Alfred, 23, 107–12 Oka, East European river, 45, 47, 60, 61, 71
Olaus Magnus, Carta marina, Historia de gentibus septentrionalibus (Description of the northern peoples), 110, 111 Old Norse(-Icelandic) literature, vii, 1, 20, 22, 30, 33, 36, 62, 71, 93, 96, 98, 104, 171; see also Ari Þorgilsson, Flateyjarbók, geographical treatises, Gulatingslov, Guta saga, Historia Norwegie, Icelandic annals, Landnámabók, Old Norwegian Homily Book, Passio et miracula beati Olavi, runic inscriptions, sagas, skaldic poetry, Stjórn, Theodoricus monachus, þulur Old Norse/Norse-Icelandic/Scandinavian sources, 1, 6, 8, 12n9, 15, 22, 23, 25, 35, 43, 45–47, 53, 59, 61, 63, 68, 71, 72n2, 77, 81–84, 88, 91, 99, 101, 104, 107, 109, 111, 112, 115, 120, 131, 156, 161, 172 Old Norwegian Homily Book, 132, 141 (Old) Rus’, vii, 1, 6–8, 12–16, 19–21, 28, 29, 33, 35, 39, 40, 43–51, 56–58, 61–63, 65–69, 73–76, 78–86, 89–91, 93–95, 97–102, 104, 105, 107, 110, 113, 115–19, 122–31, 133–39, 141, 143, 145–49, 151–53, 155–60, 164, 167, 169, 171, 172; see also Garðar, Garðaríki, Garðaveldi, Old Russian state Old Russian state, vii, 7, 14, 43n1, 58, 68, 122, 157, 172; see also (Old) Rus’ Old Russian sources, 7, 15, 91, 116, 134, 143, 170; see also Russian chronicles Oleg, Old Russian prince, 75, 158 Olkoga/Alkoga/Olga, 53, 59, 60; see also Volga Ol’ga, Old Russian princess, 75, 119 Olonets, 103 Onega Lake, 102, 111, 112, 114 oral information, 90, 109, 126 sources, 10 stories, 20, 139 tradition, 10, 14, 124, 132, 138, 139, 155, 162, 169 transmission, 1–3, 5, 10, 12, 125, 130 Orderic Vitalis, Historia ecclesiastica, 15 Orkney Islands [Orkneyjar], 21, 119, 129 Otto III, Holy Roman emperor, 129 Óðinn (Odin), god in Norse mythology, chief of the Æsir, 36, 138, 141 Óláfr geirstaðaálfr Guðrøðarson, 36 Óláfr inn helgi (the Saint) Haraldrsson, Norwegian king, 3, 4, 16, 28, 29, 39, 77, 79, 81, 89, 113, 115, 131–43, 145–48, 150, 153, 155, 156, 160, 164, 165, 167, 168, 172 Óláfr inn kyrri (the Quiet) Haraldsson, Nowegian king, 168
213
Óláfr sœnski Eiríksson, Swedish king, 15, 28, 88, 132, 133, 141, 146, 167, 172 Óláfr the Red from Scotland, 56 Óláfr Tryggvason, Nowegian king, 16, 57, 77, 78, 80, 115, 117–19, 121–30, 132, 138, 142, 149, 150, 152, 153, 157, 172
Pashuto, V. T., vii, 80, 164 Passio et miracula beati Olavi, 81, 132, 134, 135, 138, 139, 141, 143 Paul, Greek bishop, 157 Peryn’, pagan sanctuary not far from Novgorod, 74 Phelpstead, Carl, 136, 140, 142, 143 place-names, 6, 8, 9, 13, 14, 17, 20, 22–25, 27–31, 35, 38–40, 53, 65–67, 71–75, 82 83, 85, 94, 107, 110–12, 171; see also hidronyms, toponymy Poland, Polish country, Poles [Læsir], 7, 50, 68, 130, 159 Polota, East European river, 96n2, 97, 101 Polotsk [Pallteskja/Pal(l)teskia, Pallteskiuborg], 44, 45, 53, 57, 58, 59, 71, 74–76, 88, 93–97, 100, 101, 122, 142 Polotsk Land, 58, 94 Poole, Russell, 5n3, 89, 139 Pritsak, Omeljan, 54, 59, 61 n, 97, 152 Pskov, 67, 101
Raffensperger, Christian, vii, x Ragnarr Agnarsson, relative of Eymundr Hringsson, 90, 94 Ragnarr Loðbrók, semi-legendary Danish king, 56 relations/contacts/connections/ties (political, matrimonial, trade, inter-ethnic) between Scandinavia and Eastern Europe, 7, 11, 14, 15, 29, 31, 33, 68, 69, 72, 79, 80, 82, 83, 88, 100, 109, 113, 120, 130, 134, 137, 167, 171, 172 Roman III, Byzantine Emperor, 163 Ross, Alan S. C., 110, 111 Rostofa/Ráðstofa (Rostov), 47, 71, 93, 97, 100 Rostov Land, 103 Rostov–Suzdal’ Land, 47, 97 routes/roads (trade and travel), 9, 23, 24, 30, 33, 40, 41, 43–47, 51, 53, 55, 57, 61, 63, 69, 71, 90, 91, 100, 101, 103, 105, 142, 171 Baltic–Volga route/Great Volga route/Volga route, 47, 67, 97, 142 “route from the Varangians to the Greeks,” 25, 28, 29, 35, 43, 46–48, 59, 63, 67, 68, 71, 74, 82, 84, 85, 91, 93, 112n5, 130, 139
index
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Rozhnetskiy, Stephan, 56, 83 runic inscriptions, 1, 8–10, 14, 16, 23, 25–28, 30, 33, 45, 46, 49, 58, 59, 63, 66, 71, 81, 85, 171 Rusia/Ruzcia/Rúzia/Ryzaland (Rus’), 19, 45, 57, 93, 109; see also (Old) Rus’ Russian chronicles, chroniclers, chronicle writers, 7, 16, 46, 75, 76, 81, 88, 94, 99, 101, 104, 110, 114, 122, 158, 172; see also Old Russian sources First Novgorodian Chronicle, 15, 74, 81, 91, 99, 160 Ipat’evskaya chronicle, 15 Lavrent’evskaya chronicle, 15 Russian Primary Chronicle, 25n1, 43, 60, 71, 127, 130, 138, 159 “Russian River” of Arab geographer al-Idrisi, 48 Rydzevskaya, Elena, vii, 57, 65, 72, 73, 86, 87, 97, 114, 119, 127, 148, 157, 158 Ryurik, a Varangian chieftain, founder of the Ryurik Dynasty, 75 Ryurikovo Gorodishche, fortified settlement on the river Volkhov, 44, 68, 69 74, 171; see also Hólmgarðr Rǫgnvaldr Brúsason, jarl in Orkney, 40, 148, 156 Rǫgnvaldr heiðumhæri (Nobly Grey) Óláfsson, king in Vestfold, 36 Rǫgnvaldr Kali Kolsson of Orkney, skald, 165 Rǫgnvaldr Úlfsson, jarl in Vestra-Gautland, relative of Ingigerðr Ólafsdóttir, 39, 88, 89, 158, 172
sagas, passim, esp. 9–15; see also biskupa sögur, fornaldarsögur, Íslendingasögur, konungasögur Sarskoe gorodishche, near Rostov, 97 Sawyer, Peter, 16, 37 Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum, 15, 23, 95–97, 109–11 Saxony, Saxons, 21, 30 Scandinavia, Scandinavians, viin1, 1, 6–9, 13–15, 20–25, 30n8, 35, 40, 41, 43–48, 50, 51, 54, 59–61, 63, 65, 67, 68, 71–76, 78, 80, 82–86, 89, 91, 95–97, 100–2, 104, 105, 112–14, 116, 122, 125, 127, 128, 130, 133–35, 138, 139, 142, 147, 171, 172 Scandinavian attacks/expansion/journeys/movement to the east, 7, 11n5, 38 countries/kingdoms, 7, 11, 13, 14, 15, 23, 27, 69, 82, 172 finds in Rus’, 80, 86, 97, 100
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214
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Scandinavian (cont.) goods yard in Novgorod, 82 history, 13, 118 infiltration/penetration into Eastern Europe, 8, 25, 28, 38, 60, 63, 68, 84, 171 mercenaries/squad of the Russian princes, 7, 59, 125, 157–59, 164 names/place-names/toponymy/ terminology, 8, 13, 60, 68, 69, 72, 74, 86, 99, 103, 104, 119 newcomers to Eastern Europe, 67, 77 north, 63, 128, 139, 155 peninsula, 24, 27, 65 rulers (kings and jarls), 6, 7, 13, 88, 122, 125, 149 seafarers, 40, 60 settlement legend, 36, 63 society, 3, 13, 14 travellers to Rus’, 55, 57, 84, 137 queens of Russian origin, 15 Weltbild, 63 warriors, 8, 14 Scandinavians abroad stereotyped description as a means of glorification, 122, 125, 130, 141, 157, 169 tendency to exaggerate the role of, 116, 122, 135, 157, 169 praising a noble Scandinavian outside his country, 122, 142 Schramm, Gottfried, 73, 86, 102–4 Schreiner, Johan, 11, 152 Scythia, Scythians, 34, 35, 43, 63, 166 Scythian Lake/Scythian Se/Barbarian Sea (Baltic Sea), 34, 35; see also Baltic Sea Sea of Azov [Ellipaltar, Palus Mæotis], 47, 48, 60, 61 Shepard, Jonathan, 16, 72n2, 157, 164 Shetland Islands, 21, 129 Sicily, 96, 161, 165 Sigfús Blöndal, 157, 160, 163, 164 Sigríðr in stórráða, Swedish queen, 132, 167 Sigtúnir (Sigtuna), 39, 40 46, 166 Sigurðr Eiríksson, brother of Ástríðr, 77, 119, 121–23 Sigurðr, jarl in Northumberland, 78 Sigurðr Jórsalafari (the Crusader) Magnússon, Norwegian king, 15, 19, 22 Sigurðr sýr (Pig), king in Ringerike, 132, 155 Sigurður Nordal, 5, 12 Sjælland (Zealand), 23, 24n5 skaldic poetry, skalds, 1–8, 11–14, 16, 23, 25, 26, 28, 30, 36–39, 45, 46, 53–57, 59, 63, 65, 66, 71, 78, 80, 82, 85, 87, 89, 90, 109, 112, 115–17, 126, 127, 130–39, 143,
145, 150–53, 155–57, 159, 165, 166, 169–72 Arnórr jarlaskáld Þórðarson, 39, 116, 151, 152; Magnússdrápa (Hrynhenda), 39; Magnússdrápa, 39, 151 Bjarni Hallbjarnarson gullbrárskáld, 116, 134, 135, 151; Kálfsflokkr, 135, 151 Bǫlverkr Arnórsson, 82, 115, 116, 155, 157; Drápa about Haraldr harðráði, 115, 157 Egill Skallagrímsson, 53, 54, 124; Lausavísa, 53 Einarr skállaglam Helgason, Vellekla, 53 Einarr Skúlason, Geisli (Sunbeam), 131 Eyjólfr daðaskáld, Bandadrápa, 7, 85, 87, 138 Glúmr Geirason, Gráfeldardrápa, 25, 27, 54, 55, 109, 112 Hallar-Steinn, Rekstefja, 126, 152 Hallfreðr vandræðaskáld (Troublesome Poet), 26, 65, 116, 119, 126, 152; Óláfsdrápa, 26, 65, 152 Haukr Valdisarson, Íslendingadrápa, 54 Krákumál, 56 Óttarr svarti, Hǫfuðlausn, 39 Sigvatr Þórðarson, 39, 78, 80, 116, 131, 134, 136, 138–40, 145, 150; Austrfararvísur, 39; Erfidrápa Óláfs helga (“Memorial drápa for St. Óláfr”), 131, 136, 139, 140; Lausavísur, 139, 150; Nesjavísur, 139 Stúfr inn blindi (the Blind) Þórðarson, 116, 155, 166; Stúfsdrápa, 166 Valgarðr á Velli, 155, 157, 166; Poem about Haraldr harðráði, 166 Þjóðólfr Arnórsson, 7, 116, 155, 156, 159; Runhent poem about Haraldr, 159; Sexstefja, 156 Þjóðólfr ór Hvini, Ynglingatal, 23, 27, 36–38 Þórarinn loftunga (“praise-tongue”), Glælognskviða (Sea-calm Poem), 131 Þórðr Sjóreksson, Róðudrápa (Rood-poem), 131 Slavic/Slavonic colonization, 68 languages, 33 milieu, 72 names, toponyms, 83, 86 people, regions, territories, 65, 68, 163 Slavic-Scandnavian contacts, relations, 14n12, 171 settlements in Eastern Europe, 43n1, 47, 61, 74 troops, 158
215
Smolensk Land, 101 Smolensk [Smaleskia], 44, 46, 71, 93–95, 100–2 Snorri Sturluson, 2–5, 15, 19, 21, 22, 28, 29, 36–39, 46, 47, 54, 61–63, 66, 77–80, 87, 88, 90, 104n6, 109, 112, 113, 117, 118, 121, 122, 124, 126, 127, 132, 134–36, 139–43, 145, 147, 148, 150–52, 155–57, 162–64 Edda/Snorra Edda, 22, 55, 141 Heimskringla, 2–5, 7, 15, 19, 29, 36, 39, 46, 47, 61, 66, 77–80, 86–88, 90, 104n6, 112, 113, 117, 121–24, 126, 132, 136, 137, 139–42, 145–47, 149, 151, 152, 155–59, 165, 167, 168 (Haralds saga hárfagra, 147; Haralds saga Sigurðarsonar, 96, 155; Magnúss saga ins góða, 145, 151; Magnússona saga, 22; Óláfs saga helga, 79, 80, 88, 90, 136, 137, 139n11, 142; Óláfs saga Tryggvasonar, 77, 86, 117, 122, 123, 126, 152; Prologue, 2, 4; Ynglinga saga, 21, 36, 37, 61–63) Separate Óláfs saga helga (Separate Saga of Saint Olaf), 3, 4, 15, 28, 132, 136, 139n11, 141 Spain [Spánn], 19, 21, 22, 55, 62 spatial ideas, 13, 20, 35 image, 20 orientation, 20n2, 21, 22 St. Óláfr see Óláfr inn helgi Steblin-Kamenskij, M. I., 11, 165 Stefnir Þorgilsson, Icelander, 45, 57 Stender-Petersen, Adolf, 96, 142, 157, 163, 164 stereotypes, 11, 13, 71, 90, 91, 94, 96, 105, 113, 114, 122, 125, 130, 138, 141, 157, 169 Stjórn (Guidance, or God’s governance of the world), Bible translation, 50n9, 61, 62 Storm, Gustav, 10, 11, 63, 118, 124, 157, 161, 162 Strelna, East European river, 108, 110–12 Suðr(h)álfa, southern part/quarter/region of the world, 22 Suðrdalaríki/Syðridalaríki (Suzdal’ Land), 98, 100, 142 Suðrlǫnd, (“Southern lands”), 23, 126 Suðrríki, (“Southern state”), 23 Suðrvegar (“Southern ways”), 23 Suffía, daughter of Volodar’ Glebovich, prince of Minsk Sukhona, East European river, 53, 114 Suzdal’ Land, 22, 97–99, 113–14, 142; see also Suðrdalaríki, Súrdalar
index
215
Suzdal’, 44, 47, 71, 83, 93, 97–99, 114; see also Súrsdalr Súrsdalr (Suzdal’), 47, 98 Súrdalar (Suzdal’ Land), 71, 93, 97, 98 Sveinn (Sven) Álfífuson (Knútsson), ruler of Norway, 29, 131, 147, 148, 151 Sveinn bryggjufótr, Norwegian magnate, 148 Sveinn Hákonarson, Norwegian jarl, 132, 134, 141 Sveinn Úlfsson (Sven Estridsen), Danish king, 30, 153, 167, 168 Sveinn, son of Yngvar the Far-Traveller, 51 Sverdlov, M. B., 80, 89, 97, 123 Sverrir, Norwegian king, 12 Svinets, East European river, 101, 102 Svíþjóð in mikla eða in kalda (Sweden the Great or the Cold), 38, 62, 63, 95; see also Scythia Svíþjóð/Svíaríki/Svíaveldi (Sweden), Svíar (Sweeds), 37, 40, 46, 48, 87, 141, 156; see also Sweden Svyatoslav Ol’govich, prince of Novgorod, 114 Sweden, 1, 8, 9, 21, 29, 35, 39, 40, 46, 48–50, 62, 67, 86, 88, 99, 121, 131–35, 143, 150, 156, 166; see also Svíþjóð Syas’, East European river, 103, 104 Sæmgallir/Zimegola, people of Zemgale, 45, 56, 122 Sæmundr Sigfússson, 132 Sæviðarsund (Golden Horn), 47, 164 Tanakvísl (Tanais estuary) see Don Tatishchev, Vasiliy, 65, 110 Tatars, 76, 99 Theodoricus monachus, Historia de antiquitate regum Norwagiensium, 15, 90, 117, 133–35, 143, 145 toponymy, toponymic (ethno-geographical) nomenclature, 6, 8, 10, 12, 16, 24–26, 28–30, 46, 48, 53, 55–57, 59–61, 65, 66, 68, 75, 82, 83, 85, 93, 94, 98, 99, 101, 102, 104, 107, 110, 112, 125, 166, 171 two toponymic layers/ethno-geographical traditions, 6, 25, 53, 55, 56, 59
Úlfr Óspaksson, Haraldr Sigurðarson’s stallari, “marshal,” 164, 168, 169
Valdai Hills/Valdais, upland region in northwestern part of central Russia, 43 Valdamarr Danakonungr/Valdemarr Knútsson (Valdemar I), Danish king, 15, 118, 138 Valdamarr/Valdamarr inn gamli (the Old)/ Valdimarr, prince of Novgorod and Kiev Vladimir Svyatoslavich, 14, 15, 75–78,
216
216
index
87, 115, 117–20, 122, 123, 125–28, 130, 137–40, 158, 172 Valdamarr, father of Haraldr, great prince of Kiev Vladimir Monomakh, 15, 118–20, 138 Valya, East European river, 104 “Varangian language,” 164 Varangian Sea, 60; see also Baltic Sea Varangians (Scandinavians), 84, 91, 125, 129, 130, 158, 162–64; see also Væringjar Vartilafr Valdamarsson (Bryachislav Izyaslavich, prince of Polotsk), 75, 76, 94, 120 Varyazhskaya Street in Ladoga, 86, 87 Varzuga, East European river, 108, 111, 112 Vestfold, 36, 58, 132 Vestr(h)álfa, western part/quarter/region of the world, 22 Vestrlǫnd (“Western lands”), 23, 126 Vestrvegir (“Western ways”), 23 Véborg (Vyborg in Karelia), 61 Vikings, Viking age, 1, 2, 7, 14, 15, 33, 43, 46, 53, 66, 68, 77, 80, 96, 104, 108, 112, 114, 116, 125, 128, 158, 171 Vindau (Ventspils on the river Venta), 45 Vinðir/ Austr-Vinðir (Wends), Baltic Slavs, 30, 159 Vísivaldr/ Vissivaldr, unidentifind Russian prince, 28, 132 Vladimir Vsevolodovich Monomakh see Valdamarr, the father of Haraldr Vladimir Svyatoslavich see Valdamarr Vladimir the Saint see Valdamarr Vladimir Yaroslavich, prince of Novgorod, 137, 138 Vladimir, town, 97, 99 Vladimir–Suzdal’ Land, 103 Volga, East European river, 43, 44, 47, 49, 50, 53, 55, 58–60, 63, 71, 103, 110 Volkhov, East European river, 29, 43, 44, 46, 59, 60, 67–69, 71–74, 86, 90, 91, 103 Vseslav Bryachislavich, prince of Polotsk, 94 Vuoksa, East European river, 44, 61 Vúlgáríá, part of Garðaríki, 142 Vyborg [Véborg] in Karelia, 61 Væringjar,Varangian guard in Constantinople, 115, 162–64
Weibull, Lauritz, 10, 11 Wends/Baltic Slavs [Vinðir], 30, 125, 128, 138, 159
Western Dvina [Dýna/Dína/Duna/SeimgolDýna], East European river, 43–45, 49, 50, 53, 55, 56, 58–60, 63, 71, 97, 101 Whaley, Diana, 5n3, 152 White Sea, 8, 15, 22, 44, 55n1, 100, 105, 108, 110, 111, 112, 114; see also Gandvík Wilhelm abbas, Genealogia regum Danorum, 15 Wulfstan, informant of King Alfred, 35
Yaropolk Svyatoslavich, great prince of Kiev, brother of Vladimir, 125, 158 Yaroslav the Wise [Jarizleifr/Jarisleifr/ Jarizláfr/Gerzlef ], prince of Novgorod, great prince of Kiev, 7, 15, 17, 28, 48, 49, 74–77, 82, 88–91, 94, 115, 118–20, 123, 124, 133–35, 137n9, 138, 139, 141–43, 146–48, 153, 155, 157–62, 164–69, 172 Yngvarr Eysteinsson/Ynguar Canutus (the Hoary), 37, 38 Yngvarr/Ingvarr víðförli (the Far-Traveller) Eymundarsson, 48–51 Yug, East European river, 53 Zilmer, Kristel, 1, 33, 35, 40, 46, 54, 56, 66n3 Zóe, Byzantine Empress, 162
Þingeyrar monastery in Iceland, 48, 117 Þorgils Snorrason, a priest in Skarð, 155 Þorgnýr Þorgnýsson, lawspeaker in Uppsala, 29 Þorvaldr Koðránsson, Icelander, 45, 48, 57, 58, 93 Þóra Þorbergsdóttir, Haraldr Sigurðarson’s concubine, sister of Jórunn Þorbergsdóttir, 168, 169 Þórir hundr (Dog), Norwegian magnate, 138 Þrœndalǫg, Þrœndir (Tröndelag, Thronds), 40, 148, 152, 165 þulur (sg. þula), 25, 45, 53, 55, 56, 58, 59, 61, 171 Á heiti (“River names”), 53, 55
Æsir and Vanir, Norse deities, 62, 63, 141
Øgmundr from Spánheimr, 22, 100
Ǫnundr-Jákob Óláfsson, Swedish king, 167