Fish Trade in Medieval North Atlantic Societies: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Human Ecodynamics 9462983216, 9789462983212, 9789048533145

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Fish Trade in Medieval North Atlantic Societies

The Early Medieval North Atlantic This series provides a publishing platform for research on the history, cultures, and societies that laced the North Sea from the Migration Period at the twilight of the Roman Empire to the eleventh century. The point of departure for this series is the commitment to regarding the North Atlantic as a centre, rather than a periphery, thus connecting the histories of peoples and communities traditionally treated in isolation: AngloSaxons, Scandinavians / Vikings, Celtic communities, Baltic communities, the Franks, etc. From this perspective new insights can be made into processes of transformation, economic and cultural exchange, the formation of identities, etc. It also allows for the inclusion of more distant cultures – such as Greenland, North America, and Russia – which are of increasing interest to scholars in this research context. Series Editors Marjolein Stern, Gent University Charlene Eska, Virginia Tech Julianna Grigg, Monash University

Fish Trade in Medieval North Atlantic Societies An Interdisciplinary Approach to Human Ecodynamics

Val Dufeu

Amsterdam University Press

Cover illustration: Ísafjörður entrance Bolungarvík Photo: Val Dufeu Cover design: Coördesign, Leiden Layout: Crius Group, Hulshout isbn 978 94 6298 321 2 e-isbn 978 90 4853 314 5 (pdf) doi 10.5117/9789462983212 nur 684 © Val Dufeu / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2018 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book. Every effort has been made to obtain permission to use all copyrighted illustrations reproduced in this book. Nonetheless, whosoever believes to have rights to this material is advised to contact the publisher.

Table of Contents Acknowledgments

11

I Introduction Fishing in the North Atlantic Scandinavian World: A HumanEnvironment Approach to the Role and Place of Iceland and the Faeroes

13 15

II Reviewing Viking Studies and North Atlantic Realm Archaeological Research Iceland Archaeological Research and Environmental Sciences Studies Related to Fish in Viking Age and Medieval Iceland The Faeroes The Faeroes and Environmental Sciences Research Archaeo-ichthyological Research Fishing and Fishing Communities: Anthropological, Archaeological and Historical Approaches

42

III Interdisciplinarity and Environmental History: Setting the Methodology Primary Sources Environmental History and Theories Consilience Historicism, Materialism, Functionalism and Behaviourism Economics and Anthropology Environmental Archives Geoarchaeology and Micromorphology Zooarchaeology A Holistic Approach

49 50 53 54 55 57 59 59 62 64

IV Sagas and Archives Part 1: Icelandic and Faeroese primary sources and the writing of history Sagas Íslendinga sögur, The Sagas of the Icelanders Landnámabók or Book of Settlement Grágás and Íslendingabók Church & Public Records: Diplomatarium Islandicum

19 22 32 34 36 38

65 66 67 70 72 74 77

Part 2: Reading the sources thematically Exploiting Sea and Rivers Fishermen and Those involved in Fishing Traders and Commercial Partnerships Ship and Cargo Icelanders and Norwegian kings V

Modelling the Exploitation of Aquatic Resourcesand the Emergence of Commercial Fishing in Iceland and the Faeroes The Climate and Geography of Iceland The Climate and Geography of the Faeroes Marginality and Rationality as a Conceptual Framework Marginality: Adaptation and Resilience Behaviour and Rationality Environmental Factors and the Norse Pioneers of Iceland and the Faeroes Environmental Determinism and the Settlement of Iceland and the Faeroes Resource Possibilism and the Settlement of Iceland and the Faeroes Exploitation of Aquatic Systems Icelandic and Faeroes Waters Off shore, Inshore and Riverine Fish Resources Marine Species Riverine Species Economic Commonwealth: Core and Periphery within the North Atlantic Realm Economic Patterns from the Later Iron Age to the M ­ edieval  Period Emergence of an Original Icelandic Economy or Scandinavian Continuity? An Atlantic Economic Commonwealth Emergence of Specialised Workers Exploiting Renewable Resources for Commercial Purposes Icelandic and Faeroese Merchants? Regulating the Trade and Fishing Rights: Sea and Riverine Rights Trading Network National-Regional Trade, Markets and Fair: Alþíng og Þíng Fishing and Settlement Patterns

79 79 84 86 91 96 103 104 107 110 111 112 115 116 119 126 126 127 128 131 133 134 135 136 137 138 140 142 143 143 145

High Status Farm – Coastal and Inland Mid-Rank Farm Fishing Stations Gender Exploitation of Ecosystems Church and Fish Icelandic Seafaring Navigation Skills Ship and Seafaring Regulations Iceland and the European Fish Markets

VI Geoarchaeology of the Emergence of Commercial Fishing: Testing Historical and Environmental Reconstructions of the Emergence of Commercial Fishing Geo-archaeology: Understanding Human Economic History through the Use of Landscape Identifying Settlement Patterns The Soils of Iceland Micromorphology: Investigating Human Economic Patterns through Soil Analysis Methodology Zooarchaeology: Understanding Human Economic Behaviour through Bone Finds Bone Recovery: Archaeological Contexts Methodology The Norse Fish Horizon Reconstructing Commercial Fishing: Case Studies Árneshreppur, Strandasýsla, North West Iceland Gjögur Akurvík The Westfjords: Vatnsfjörður Mývatnssveit: Skútustaðir The Faeroes Undir Junkarinsfløtti Á Sondum Environmental Archives and Human behaviour: modelling fish based paleo-economies in Iceland and the Faeroes

147 148 149 151 152 157 157 159 160

167 167 167 169 170 173 173 174 175 176 178 180 181 189 195 198 204 205 209 214

VII Conclusion

219

Bibliography

231

Index

251

List of Figures, Maps, Photos, Plates and Tables Figures Figure 1 Relation of strategic choices and resources possibilism 122 in organisational adaptation Figure 2 Availabilty of renewable resource and possibilism concept123 Figure 3 Fish-based economic development within a resource possibilism framework 124 Figure 4 Cyclical activities related to commercial exploitation of fish 137 Figure 5 Schema of economic exploitation of aquatic ecosystems by high status farm 148 Figure 6 Schema of economic exploitation of aquatic ecosystems by mid-rank status farm 148 Figure 7 Schema of economic exploitation of aquatic ecosystems by permanent fishing station 150 Figure 8 Economic exploitation of ecosystems by gender 151 Figure 9 Frequency of fish and mammal bones identified in thin sections 185 Figure 10 Total number of bones per species for Gjögur 188 Figure 11 Organic materials in thin sections 189 Figure 12 Bone assemblage per species 193 Figure 13 Vatnsfjörður dietary habit 198 Figure 14a Means frequency of of fish bones to animal bones as observed in cultural sediments for the fifteenth century 201 Figure 14b Means frequency of fish bones to animal bones as observed in cultural sediments for the seventeenth century 201 Figure 15 Display the total number of fragments by major taxanomic categories 202 Figure 16 Fish bone abundance 202 Figure 17 Display of archaeofauna from the ninth-tenth century 204 Figure 18 Frequency of fish and animal bones as observed in cultural sediments 207 Figure 19 Fish bones and birds bones in assemblage 208 Figure 20 Junkarinsfløtti archaeofauna 208 Figure 21 Total of bones collected 211

Figure 22a Compared birds and fish NISP between Undir Junkarinsfløtti and Á Sondum Figure 22b Birds, fish and domestic mammals NISP at Undir Junkarinsfløtti and Á Sondum Figure 23 Bone assemblages for the case studies presented

213 213 216

Maps Map 1 The Westfjords peninsula and Mývatnssveit Map 2 North Atlantic and East Icelandic currents Map 3 Icelandic sites location Map 4 Reykjarnes Bay, Gjögur and Akurvík (hver on the map) Map 5 Map showing the location of Finnbogastaðir in relation to Gjögur and Akurvík

106 109 179 194 195

Photos Photo 1 Band of grey tephra (T) Photo 2 Yellowish-orangey infills features with well-developed radial crystallisation. Similar features have been identified as Ca-Fe-phosphate by Adderley et al. Photo 3 Aerial view of Gjögur Photo 4 Still inhabited, the houses are closer to the beach than the early medieval settlement as shown by the farm mound in the fore ground. Structures were surveyed on the left of the mound Photo 5 Mammal bone Photo 6 Fragments of fish bones Photo 7 Akurvík beach and reefs Photo 8 Akurvík eroded profile

170 171 183

184 186 187 190 191

Plates Plate 1 Successive phases of processing fish as stockfish product Plate 2 Gjögur stratigraphy, east facing section Plate 3 Akurvík stratigraphy Plate 4 Skútustaðir stratigraphy Plate 5 Area A East Section facing West (Scale: 1:10 (cm)) Plate 6 West profile

177 182 192 199 206 210

Tables Table 1 Summary of collection methods with indication of information from each category Table 2 Summary table of expected data

176 180

Acknowledgments This book is rooted in my PhD work and as such my thanks go firstly to the Arts and Humanities Research Council who fully funded my research and gave me a great opportunity to achieve a dream. Financial support has been provided by the Economic Society and the Viking Society for Northern Research who funded the project’s fieldworks in Iceland. Also to be thanked is the Faeroes University who partly funded the Faeroes fieldwork. In Iceland, many thanks to Garðar Guðmundsson (Director, Institute of Archaeology, Reykjavík), who sorted out the last fieldwork. His support and collaboration during the last fieldwork in 2009 was invaluable. Also, many thanks to Sigrún for her help during the fieldwork as a digger and her caring for the ‘housekeeping’ organisation. Many thanks to Aagot V.Óskardóttir and Garðar, Sigrún Garðarsdóttir, Gunnhildur Garðarsdóttir for their warmth and providing me with fun, food and shelter during my last stay in Reykjavík. Many thanks to all the staff from the Institute of Archaeology in Reykjavík. Lastly but not last, special thanks to the owners of Akurvík and Gjögur who granted me access to these sites: Jóhanna s. Thorarensen, Ívar Benediktsson, Ólafur Thorarensen, Guðbjörg Thorarensen, Guðrun Thorarensen and Garðar Jónsson. Without them, this research would have not been as complete. Thanks to the CUNY/NABO team who enabled me to participate in the Skútustaðir fieldwork and to use zooarchaeological data from Hunter and Brooklyn Colleges. Thanks to Megan Hicks and Seth Brewington (CUNY, Zooarchaeology Laboratory) who helped me with the zooarchaeological data. This research would not have been as thorough without their help. Many thanks to all the teams I have met during my fieldworks. In the Faeroes, my gratitude goes to Símun V. Arge (Director, National Museum of the Faeroes), who supported me during the Faeroese fieldwork. Thanks to Robert Friel (Director of Sandur excavation and fieldwork, University of Bradford) who allowed me to collaborate on the excavation and supported me throughout my own fieldwork in Undir Junkarinsfløtti. Also thanks to Seth Brewington (City University of New York) who helped me digging the UJ profile, and to Dr. Mike Church (University of Durham) whose support and suggestions during the Faeroese fieldwork have been greatly appreciated. In Norway, I am thankful to Pr. Christian Keller (University of Oslo) for believing in my abilities and supporting me throughout the research and writing process. His invitation to present my ideas at the University of Oslo is one of the stepping-stones of this work, our conversations have also proved very helpful. Thanks to Dr. Per Norseng (Director, Maritime Museum, Oslo)



FiSh Tr Ade iN MedievAl NorTh ATl ANTic Socie TieS

whose comments on Norwegian medieval laws and history have helped me considerably. Also, thanks to Dr. Arne Emil Christensen (Maritime Museum of Oslo) who provided me with explanations and literature on Viking seafaring. I would like to thank Dr. Eileen Tisdall whose patience and support were deeply appreciated. I will never forget that Eileen gave me the opportunity to develop and co-teach with her a module in Environmental History. Her continuous encouragements and friendly attitude have been of great comfort. I am grateful to Dr. George Stoops (University of Ghent) and Dr. Panagiotis Karkanas (Ephoria of Palaeoanthropology-Speleology of Southern Greece, Athens), who enlightened me with regards to micromorphological interpretation. Thanks to Pr. Thomas Haine (The Johns Hopkins University) whose expertise in climate and weather conditions helped me understand the mirage process and how that might have participated in Scandinavian seafaring. Many thanks to Kristian Pedersen (University of Edinburgh, Dept. of Archaeology) for his support; our conversations on fishing communities throughout the ages were many occasions to test my theories. I would like to thank Dr. Barbara Crawford who showed a real interest in my research. Thanks to Dr. Justyna Wubs-Mrozewicz who helped me with translations. I am in debt to my friends who supported me throughout my research. Nicki, whose presence for many years now has proved essential, especially in the 2008 academic year. I cannot say how much it helped me. Merci à Audrey pour sa patience et son soutien; nos nombreuses discussions et pauses ‘hot chocolate’ resteront des instants privilégiés. Special thoughts to Linda who entertained me during lunches and coffee breaks, her enthusiastic attitude towards my research and ‘academic success’, kept me going on. Laura’s energy, friendship and cakes have also been of great support. I am especially grateful to Ruth for her help with the editing process and judicious comments as well as her moral support and friendship. Our chats and chill-outs kept me mentally fit. Finally, I am in debt to my editor whose patience and support have kept me working on the manuscript one more time. Thanks for believing in me Erin. Last but not least, I am grateful to my family who supported me throughout my studies from undergraduate to PhD. To my husband, Pierre, who constantly listened to my moaning, and who supported me during the whole process of research and writing up. To my children, Marine, Nicolas and Margaux-Victoria whose love and understanding helped me through the years. This book is dedicated to my grand-parents, Rita and Michel.

I

Introduction

This research started years ago, while I was a history undergraduate student. History and especially medieval history has always been part of my life but it took me years to start seriously studying it at university. While in my third year and though I enjoyed nearly all the history modules, I felt that reading books and archives would never fulfil my thirst for learning and I wanted to ‘touch’ the past, to be more connected. When I expressed these feelings to one of my history lecturers, his answer was clear: I had to embark on doing some archaeology and by chance he knew a professor always keen to take on board new students. I must admit that I was very impressed by the professor whose reputation was very well established, making him one of the leading researchers in his field. Our first meeting went smoothly and he gave me a week to come up with a research proposal on Iceland that would justify my integration to the international team he belonged to. It did not take long to find my topic: try to date the emergence of commercial fishing in Iceland, since all I read on that topic had not convinced me. Since the mid-twentieth century, the history of the North Atlantic World has been the target of interdisciplinary studies undertaken by archaeologists and environmental scientists. Within those studies, however, early medieval Icelandic history has received little recent academic analysis from traditional historians. This is particularly evident regarding the historical evidence for the domestic economies and external trade relations of Iceland, where principally geo-archaeologists and environmental scientists have led research. Yet, in 1981, it was an economic historian, Bruce Gelsinger, who published the most recent and detailed research on medieval Icelandic trade and economic development. Whereas it could be argued that no one work can provide a thorough study of all aspects of a chosen topic, Gelsinger provides an in-depth study of Iceland’s overseas trade which remains, to date, unparalleled. Furthermore, while some historians have researched on Iceland’s past (Byock, Þorláksson and Jóhannesson amongst others) the historical literature shows that particular research questions, especially those regarding the function of fish in the economy of Iceland, remain unsettled. The lack of primary sources about Iceland’s trade and traders, mode of subsistence, and the development of a non-subsistence economy led to the general acceptance of a view of Iceland’s reliance on Norway as well as one of its minor participation in North European and Atlantic trade. This school of thought led, inevitably, to various assumptions such as Iceland’s political dependency on Norway and its incapacity to elaborate

14 

Fish Tr ade in Medieval North Atl antic Socie ties

and develop trade – domestic and overseas – and particularly a specialised fish trade prior to the Norwegian take-over of the 1260s. The shortage of primary sources in addition to the lack of towns, currency, and executive government in Viking Age and early medieval Iceland might have played a key role in forming this perception of early Iceland. Comprehension of past economic activities depends largely on our ability to identify whether the environment and/or social structures serve as basis for the development of economic patterns.1 Since the 1980s, the history of the North Atlantic World has been the target of interdisciplinary studies, and both Iceland and the Faeroes have been in the foreground as ‘international laboratories’ for archaeological and paleo-environmental research. Yet, the use of paleo-environmental studies tends to remain marginal, and this has led inevitably to a considerable gap in the historical narratives of early medieval societies and especially for Iceland and the Faeroes’ environmental and economic histories. If the non-exploitation of environmental studies by medieval historians lies with the very nature of the discipline – written record is the historian’s tool par excellence rather than scientific empirical data – environmental history as an approach to the understanding and explanation of historical processes has become increasingly fashionable amongst scholars since ‘historians have always known that the natural environment plays a significant role in how humans behave’.2 In 1998, Jón Thór stated that Icelandic scholars have paid little interest to the country’s fishing history, stressing that ‘few publications on fisheries can be deemed scholarly as they are not based on thorough research and relatively few contain bibliographies or references’.3 Furthermore, Thór suggested that those publications that concern localities and focus on the development of towns and villages are based on archival material, and that only four studies covered the period prior to 1800: S. Jonsen’s history of Westman Islands, G. Jónsson’s history of Stokkseyri fishing village, E. Gumðmundsson’s Fróðárhreppur history and Thór’s own research on the fishing community of Grindavík. 4 Yet, two studies offered ‘general’ histories of Iceland’s fishing communities, Ludvík Kristjánsson’s Íslenzkir 1 Recker, ‘Economic Archaeology in the German Low Mountain Ranges’, in Helming, Scholkmann, and Untermann, (eds.), Centre. Region. Periphery. Medieval Europe Basel 2002. Vol. 1: Keynote-Lectures to the Conference Sections 1-3, p. 215. 2 Fay, ‘Environmental History: Nature at Work’ In History and Theory, Theme Issue 42, 1. 3 Thór, ‘Icelandic Fishing History Research. A Survey’, in Holm and Starkey, (eds.), North Atlantic Fisheries, p. 13. 4 Thór, ‘Icelandic Fishing History Research. A Survey’, in Holm and Starkey, (eds.), North Atlantic Fisheries, p. 13.

Introduc tion

15

sjávarhættir (Icelandic sea venture) and Jón Jónsson’s Útgerð og aflabrögð við Íslands, 1300-1900 (Fishing and catch of Iceland), 1300-1900 (my translation).5 Ludvík Kristjánsson’s work on Icelandic fishing communities, Íslenzkir sjávarhœttir, based on archival and ethnographical research, presented a detailed narrative for those communities, while Jón Jónsson’s research offered a view on the Icelandic fisheries within a wider European context, with, however, an emphasis on the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. More recently, Louis Sicking and Darlene Breu-Ferreira published a series of papers under the umbrella title Beyond the Catch, Fisheries of the North Atlantic, The North Sea and the Baltic, 900-1850. Within this publication, Sophia Perdikaris and Thomas McGovern stressed that there remain gaps within the history of the North Atlantic, especially concerning what they described as the ‘undocumented pre-fish event horizon, pre-Hanseatic Nordic maritime economy’. The difference between ‘pre-fish horizon’ and ‘fish-horizon event’ in archaeological deposits corresponding to increase of fish remains in archaeological deposits.

Fishing in the North Atlantic Scandinavian World: A HumanEnvironment Approach to the Role and Place of Iceland and the Faeroes In the writing of Icelandic history, it seems that scholarship is marked chiefly by interest in modes of consciousness and of political development and overlook the settlers’ earliest economic patterns. However, because humans cannot be dissociated from their natural surroundings and that, though this environment may appear passive, it clearly plays a key role in the development of human culture, religion, politics and economy, it seemed that research with an environmental perspective would help understanding of past economic and societal organisation in Viking Age and High Medieval Iceland. An interdisciplinary approach seemed likely to be more effective in the understanding and explanation of historical processes for it allows a shift from a theoretical methodology to an empirical one. Such an approach permits the maximising of data from other fields and to grasp how Iceland’s settlers’ behaviour had been shaped by the environment and vice-versa and how they understood and valued their seascape and landscape and their respective resources. 5 Kristjánsson, Íslenzkir sjávarhœttir, Bókaútgáfa Mennigarsjóð (Reykjávík, 1980-1986). The five volumes were published as follow: Vol.1, 1980; Vol.2, 1981; Vol.3, 1983; Vol. 4, 1985; Vol. 5, 1986; Jónsson, J., Útgerð og aflabrögð við Íslands, 1300-1900.

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Fish Tr ade in Medieval North Atl antic Socie ties

While Iceland’s natural environment allowed the development of economic activities based on farming and fishing, our understanding of the way exploitation of aquatic resources developed and worked within an existing economic system is incomplete. Written evidence for the domestic economies and external trade relations of both Iceland and the Faeroes is limited; recent archaeological and environmental data open the way for a re-assessment of the exploitation of marine resources and especially the function of fish in the socio-economic development of the two communities. Historical enlightenment usually occurs by linking facts and processes to the wider historical context, national and/or international, in which they originated. The identified need for historical enquiry on the origin of Iceland’s commercial fisheries established by Perdikaris et al. offered the opportunity to investigate and to define the timescale in which the research would take place, from the ninth to the late fifteenth centuries. The motive behind using this early historical period as a starting point was triggered by the fact that although the permanent settlement of Iceland and the first wave of Scandinavian colonists settling in the Faeroes are widely recognised as occurring from the ninth century, little or no research exists covering the period from this time up to the late thirteenth century. With specific regards to Iceland, it appeared interesting to understand how people adapt to a pristine environment. Meanwhile, the Faeroese research would be used as a rational analogy between both lands. It is imperative to understand the separate economic developments of both communities and how this could be investigated through the prism of environmental history, to further understanding of these communities’ social economic development. Thór’s analysis of academic research on Icelandic fisheries highlighted that these studies used annals and archival research, which limited their scope of investigation since there are no written sources prior to the twelfth century. Indeed, most textbooks which include discussion of fishing in Iceland, focus on post-late thirteenth century developments. This focus is due to the greater availability of archives; the dearth of Icelandic primary documents as well as the absence of references to Iceland in foreign sources prior to that period, which led to the view that Iceland did not participate in the economy of early medieval Europe, and hence had nothing of value to trade. As stated above, pre-1300 primary sources are scarce, and the materials that can be used to formulate any hypothesis are archaeological and paleo-environmental in nature. This limited survival of written sources requires the adoption of an innovative strategy, which employs an interdisciplinary approach. The introduction of archaeology and environmental sciences into an environmental historical research

Introduc tion

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project offers a unique opportunity to produce a thorough study grounded in the integration of ‘hard’ scientific evidence with ‘softer’, more qualitative historical data-sources. However, it must be noted that the level of academic knowledge regarding Scandinavian settlements and economic patterns in the North Atlantic is quite considerable. Anthropologists, historical geographers, economists, environmental scientists, medieval historians and antiquarians have provided studies on Viking and Norse political and economic expansion in which all recent studies are grounded. International teams of scientists and social scientists formed collaborative research groups on programmes built around undergraduates, post-graduates and senior academics whose aims were to increase both academic and public knowledge. While it has been recently claimed that archaeology and environmental science can reveal the early history of the cod trade and the ‘critical transition from a local to a global product’, I always thought that environmental history with its interdisciplinary idiosyncrasy was the best field of inquiry to address such questions, and over the past two decades, environmental history as an approach to the understanding and explanation of historical processes has become increasingly fashionable amongst scholars. Crossing the boundaries of various research fields enables me to present a pioneering work and the present book is based on my doctoral research on the emergence of commercial fishing in Iceland and the Faeroe islands, c. 800-1480. The complexity of the question requires a specific interpretative structure and for this very reason, each chapter uses specific materials to propose a coherent narrative about the emergence of commercial fishing in Iceland and the Faeroes. The chapter devoted to historiography presents the most important works in connection with our question, to set the stage for a meaningful understanding of the complexity involved by multidisciplinary work and to allow readers to familiarise themselves with the Scandinavian world of the Viking Age and Middle Ages. Then comes the interdisciplinary methodology chapter that presents the founding theories and the various fields used in the present work. In order to understand the dynamic relationships between Scandinavians and the ecosystem of the Faeroes and Iceland in which they lived, theoretical and empirical data are used in a holistic approach. Sagas and Archives are reviewed and presented for they shed light on aspects of past human exploitation of marine and riverine resources in Iceland, the Faeroes, and the wider North Atlantic Realm. The next chapter presents the theoretical approach to settlement patterns, economic activity, and social organisation of the Viking Age and early medieval Iceland and the Faeroes. It develops a chronological framework for fish trade from the permanent settlement of

18 

Fish Tr ade in Medieval North Atl antic Socie ties

Iceland in the late ninth century to the advent of the Newfoundland fisheries in the late fifteenth century and the consequent disinterest in Icelandic waters by European fishermen and traders. The final chapter, integrates archaeology, but essentially soil micromorphology and zooarchaeological data are integrated within an environmental framework. Case studies, two in the Faeroes and four in Iceland, are presented as tests to the hypothesis developed in the previous chapter. If no history of Iceland’s fisheries from the earliest historical period exists and while undertaking such a narrative would be a monumental task, the aims of the present study are to establish what the key features of Iceland’s economic patterns were and to produce models for socio-economic developments based mainly on the development of a specialised fish trade within a definite historical framework. By researching the interaction between places of production, distribution, and consumption of fish, I will identify networks of exchange and locate cultural and economic spaces.

II

Reviewing Viking Studies and North Atlantic Realm Archaeological Research

Since the 1980s, the history of the North Atlantic World has been the focus of interdisciplinary studies. Amongst these studies, the most significant works in respect of environmental, historical, and archaeological studies concerned with the emergence of fishing and its subsequent socio-economic role in Iceland and the Faeroes are presented below. Although the ‘Viking’ world is an appealing topic, the number of historical publications dealing with that subject is nonetheless modest; the bulk of publications can be attributed to non-historian researchers, as will be discussed below. In fact, the authors cited in this chapter remain the landmarks of the field, even if their publications are not recent. Amongst them, Gwyn Jones and his History of the Vikings (1973) remains a major work.1 This was the first general history of the Vikings to be published since the 1930s and it offers a re-assessment of the northern peoples’ achievements in colonisation, trade and warfare. The work of Johannes Brønsted is also of primary importance.2 As a prehistorian and archaeologist, his analysis of the religion, social organisation and way of life of the Vikings has considerably enlarged the scope of knowledge. A good description of the typical Scandinavian’s life style can be found in Anderson’s Viking Enterprise (1966).3 Overall, this monograph reiterates the same line of reasoning as the one expressed by Jones and Brønsted; all are general histories from the pre-Viking period to the eleventh century. Their works constitute a major background resource regarding the migrations, kingdoms and politico-economic expansion of the Vikings. More recently, R. Boyer and T.K Derry have extended Jones and Brønsted’s work. 4 However, although they put more emphasis on primary sources regarding Iceland and the Vikings’ world, they have not developed any new theories. In contrast, in Les Vikings et leur Civilisation, Problèmes Actuels, Regis Boyer gathered a collection of essays, which has widened knowledge about Viking settlements, commerce and navigation. This 1 2 3 4

Jones, History of the Vikings. Brøndsted, The Vikings. Anderson, Viking Enterprise. Derry, A History of Scandinavia, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland and Iceland.

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Fish Tr ade in Medieval North Atl antic Socie ties

was shortly followed by T.K Derry’s History of Scandinavia (1979), which offers a broad overview of the Scandinavian world during the medieval era. In this, the author has mainly explored the commercial side of those people, giving a comprehensive image of their trading activities in the North Atlantic, the Irish Sea and the Baltic Sea. Another work of interest is that of Peter G. Foote and David M. Wilson. Their Viking Achievement (1970) is an interdisciplinary co-operation between an archaeologist and a textual scholar.5 The historical and empiricist approaches employed by them offer a plausible and accurate view of the North Atlantic world during the Middle Ages. Information derived from archaeological artefacts and data can provide an insight on human life that supplements historical data such as documentary sources. Although Foote and Wilson are from different disciplines, their research is the result of a fruitful gathering of the two kinds of evidence that provides a coherent argument. In 1999, the Jutland Archaeological Society published proceedings of a conference titled ‘Settlement and Landscape’ from prehistoric times to the late medieval period.6 These papers are of interest in the present context as they discuss the interrelationships between Scandinavians’ use of landscape, settlement patterns and economic activities, while always bearing in mind that the concept of landscape is linked to that of perception. This is particularly the case with Reidar Bertelsen’s paper Settlement on the divide between land and ocean. From Iron Age to Medieval Period along the coast of Northern Norway where he highlighted that unless researchers consider the relationship of land to sea during the Viking Age and the early medieval period, it would be difficult to build economic hypotheses.7 For Bertelsen, the economic activities of the inhabitants of the northern coast of Norway cannot be segmented between farmers and fishermen prior to the introduction of Christianity c. 1000. He also identified Christianisation with the development of commercial fisheries and the change in coastal societies towards a population that might have been organised into specialised activities and/or crafts.8 Such intensification and/or shift in fish 5 Foote, and Wilson, The Viking Achievement. 6 Fabech, and Ringtvet, (eds.), Settlement and Landscape, Proceedings of a conference in Ǻrhus, Denmark, May 4-7 1998. 7 Bertelsen, ‘Settlement on the divide between land and ocean. From Iron Age to Medieval Period along the coast of Northern Norway’, in Fabech and Ringtred (eds.), Settlement and Landscape, Proceedings of a conference in Ǻrhus, Denmark, May 4-7, 1998, pp. 261-267. 8 Bertelsen, ‘Settlement on the divide between land and ocean. From Iron Age to Medieval Period along the coast of Northern Norway’, in Fabech and Ringtred (eds.), Settlement and Landscape, Proceedings of a conference in Ǻrhus, Denmark, May 4-7, 1998, pp. 264-265.

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exploitation might be identified through zooarchaeological remains and soil and sediments analyses as is discussed in the methodology chapter. Continuing with themes of settlement and landscape, by AD 800, fishing activity amongst farmers who had settled in the ‘outer coastal districts’ in North Norway became quite significant.9 This highlights that Norwegians were used to a dual economy and that there is no reason why they should not have implemented it in Iceland. In 2002, Regis Boyer published a detailed study, Les Vikings, Histoire et Civilisation, divided in two main parts: history and civilisation.10 The ‘Histoire’ part presents a methodically researched examination of the origins of the ‘Vikings’ from the Stone Age onwards, the first manifestations of their expansion (overpopulation, political causes or adventurous interest) and the timing of colonisations and institutionalisations c. 900-980 and raids c. 980-. The term ‘Viking’ is here deliberately written between inverted commas since it should not be used as an ethnic term. In that connection, it seems that such a misconception has been adopted by some scholars, amongst them Jared Diamond, who constantly equates the colonisers and/ or settlers of Iceland with ‘Vikings’.11 He should not have ignored that, firstly, the colonisers/settlers were not all Vikings – from the Old Norse víkingr, freebooter, sea-rover, pirate and víking, but also to be engaged in warfare – and, secondly, that there were non-Scandinavians amongst them. The ‘Civilisation’ component studies the structures, hierarchy and administration of Viking society as well as its domestic culture and public life. In respect of the development of equipment, Boyer identifies agriculture and fishing as being the two domains where Scandinavian savoir-faire leaves no room for doubt. For instance, he emphasises that iron exploitation and consequently iron tools were very common in Scandinavian countries. The use of iron for agricultural tools such as arð (ard), plógr (plough), herfi (harrow) or ljá (scythe) facilitated expansion of arable land in those countries, Iceland included.12 Fishing and marine exploitation, however, are just surveyed by Boyer, who claims that Scandinavian fishing apparatus presents no particular originality compared to what we know from elsewhere; they equally used both lines and nets. Even this limited range, however, is an indication of two different kinds of fishing: from the shore and off the coast. This also speaks of differing fishing technology 9 Myhre, ‘The Early Viking Age in Norway’, p. 38. 10 Boyer, Les Vikings, Histoire et Civilisation. 11 Diamond, Collapse, how societies choose to fail or survive. 12 Diamond, Collapse, how societies choose to fail or survive, pp. 287-288.

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and species fished, which will be discussed later. In respect of fish, while Boyer mentions that dairy products and fish were key elements of the diet, there is no discussion about fish itself in terms of fishing campaigns, if any, and fishing boats and marine-riverine exploitation in general.13 This position was to a degree addressed in Rupert Housley and Geraint Coles’ 2004 edited volume of conference papers, which explores the economies, environments, and modes of subsistence in lands bordering the North Atlantic.14 This is an outstanding publication for anyone researching the development of societies in the North Atlantic from an environmental perspective. It covers major issues like the origins of plants and animal life and the effect on the environment of foreign elements, the colonisation and land management of the so-called ‘North Atlantic Realm’ from the prehistoric period to the Norse period, climatic conditions, and the founding and growth of exchange and trade networks. The subject matter of this book not only raises awareness about North Atlantic environmental conditions but also encourages the reader to formulate new theories and concepts about fish as an economic resource in the Faeroes and Iceland, c. 800 to 1480. Such literature does provide alternative inroads that bring new dynamics into the subject.

Iceland Icelandic historiography in respect of the development of the commercial fish trade has been dominated by a somewhat conservative view, which considers growth in this sector to post-date the political submission to Norway in 1262-1264. This position is epitomised by the Icelandic historian Knut Gjerset whose History of Iceland published in 1922 seems to have been used and re-used by generations of academics.15 Although he discussed environmental factors such as climate, fauna and flora as well as early social life, most of Gjerset’s narrative is dedicated to legislation, and political and religious topics. For him, Norway played a key role in the political, economic and religious development of early Iceland. For instance, and regarding merchants, he notes that, although Icelanders were occasionally engaged in trade: 13 Diamond, Collapse, how societies choose to fail or survive, p. 298. 14 Housley and Coles (eds.), Atlantic and Adaptations Economies, environments and subsistence in lands bordering the North Atlantic. 15 Gjerset, History of Iceland.

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[…] no native merchant class had been developed; it was usually in the hands of professional Norse traders who brought their wares from Norwegian and British seaports after they had first imported them from far-off foreign markets in France, Spain and Russia.16

At this point, it should be noted that Gjerset’s historical data, and especially the above excerpt, are from the Icelandic sagas. For Gjerset, although fisheries were of great importance to Icelanders from Settlement onwards, a significant export trade of fish and herring started in the early fourteenth century.17 Gjerset’s differentiation between ‘fish’ and ‘herring’ seems to show that Icelanders specialised in two distinct fishing activities, which indicates that there was a demand for such commercial venture. He also emphasises that all the products were ‘about the same’ all around Iceland, ‘no domestic trade of any importance was developed in early ages’.18 This last statement would imply that ‘something’ new has been ‘found’ and traded; unfortunately, Gjerset did not further the discussion that ended as a ‘cliffhanger’. Gjerset’s History remains one of the major works on Iceland’s past, since it detailed the creation of the Alþíng, the legal system, feuds, Christianisation of Iceland and the social development of the settlers. Although his approach reflects nineteenth century scholarship on Iceland, nonetheless, his economic appraisal on fishing has been followed by such historians as Helgi Þorláksson who opposes the idea that Iceland developed a fish trade on its own prior to 1262-64. In a local publication focused on history of the Westfjords, he argues that ‘fishing only became important for livelihood in the second half of the thirteenth century and around 1300’ and that fish became an economic asset during the fourteenth century.19 He dates from that century onwards the economic growth of the Vestfirðir area (Northwest peninsula of Iceland) with the emergence of the two key ports for the area, Bolungarvík and lsafjörður. Þorláksson founds his argument on a 1350 declaration by Abbot of Þingeyrar whose concern seemed to lie with the availability and distribution of ‘dry sea fish’ from the Westfjords to other districts; there is, however, no indication in Abbot Árngríms’ declaration that the dry fish trade only started in the fourteenth century.20 Helgi Þorláksson’s view with regard to Icelandic trade 16 Gjerset, History of Iceland, p.79. 17 Gjerset, History of Iceland, p.75. 18 Gjerset, History of Iceland, p.79. 19 Þorláksson, ‘Fiskur og höfðingjar á Vestfjörðum’. 20 Þorláksson, ‘Fiskur og höfðingjar á Vestfjörðum’, p. 69.

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and especially dried fish as a staple good for export is based on archives that show that custom revenue from fishing stations became significant in the course of the fourteenth century.21 This does not mean that fish trade did not happen prior to the fourteenth century but rather that the amount of taxation from fishing stations became more important during the fourteenth century, which would de facto speak for an earlier date for such trade. Furthermore, Þorláksson’s discussion focused on stations paying taxes to landowners (laymen or churches) and therefore traceable through records; hidden from the discussion, and more generally to us, are the stations exploited by chieftains or their relatives, not paying custom revenue and therefore not visible in the archives. Writing in 2001, Jesse Byock claimed that the contribution of Iceland to the dynamic trade of Viking Age Scandinavia remained marginal and that its limited agricultural production together with a ‘lack of organised commercial fisheries restricted Iceland’s trade with the outside world’.22 Furthermore, Byock’s treatment of commercial fishing in Iceland fits the accepted view that such economic activity developed in the fourteenth century when ‘Europe discover[ed] in Iceland a product of great commercial value’.23 Drifting significantly from Byock and Þorláksson’s views on the economic role of Iceland in the early medieval period, the economic historian, Bruce Gelsinger, nonetheless mainly agrees with them with regard to commercial fishing. He highlighted in his monograph on Iceland’s Commerce and Economy in the Middle Ages, that Icelanders were very active overseas merchants until the mid-eleventh century.24 Furthermore, he claimed that Icelandic exports to foreign markets could still be found until the end of the twelfth century, without, however, mentioning fish as an exportable staple.25 Gelsinger’s mark down of Icelandic dried fish as an export product is probably linked to both the widespread idea which presents the Norwegian fisheries of Hålogaland as holding the monopoly over the dried fish trade, as well as the lack of documentary evidence. He nevertheless recognised that during the early period (c. 930 to 1030), Iceland played a role in that medieval trade.26 It appears that while there is no record on Icelandic fish export, from c. 930 onwards, skreið (dried fish) was considered as a currency in the same way as vaðmál (homespun 21 Þorláksson, ‘Fiskur og höfðingjar á Vestfjörðum’, pp. 67-81. 22 Byock, Viking Age, p. 44. 23 Byock, Medieval Iceland: Society, Sagas and Power, p. 97. 24 Gelsinger, Icelandic Enterprise: Commerce and Economy in the Middle Ages, p. 149. 25 Gelsinger, Icelandic Enterprise: Commerce and Economy in the Middle Ages. 26 Gelsinger, Icelandic Enterprise: Commerce and Economy in the Middle Ages, p. 155.

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cloth);27 this indicates that fish was already processed in its commercial form and that it was harvested in sufficient quantity for both economic destinations i.e. foodstuff and currency. Although both Byock and Gelsinger have shed light on the socio-economic past of Iceland, their tendency to consider Iceland as a satellite of Norway has influenced their hypotheses. Their views are fed by the fact that by 1152-53, Iceland’s Church was under the Archbishopric of Nidaros’ authority and under the Norwegian crown’s authority a century later. Although few academics in the field of medieval Icelandic studies have so far challenged the historical hypotheses of Gjerset, Þorláksson, Byock, and to a lesser extent Gelsinger concerning commercial fishing in late Iron Age to medieval Iceland, there are challenges to this conservative position. Sveinbjorn Johnsson and Ásgeir Jakobsson oppose the conservative stance, whereas Jón Johannesson, William Ian Miller and Jón Thór drift from the acknowledged view. In his 1930 publication, Pioneers of Freedom, Johnsson opposes Gjerset’s ‘school’ with regards to the economic development of Iceland.28 Johnsson’s exploitation of the Icelandic sagas allowed him to build a narrative on the island’s history. With regard to fish, while he states early in his text that it was very abundant and important to some of Iceland’s settlers; his analysis of climatic conditions enabled him to stress that when Iceland ‘suffered extremely from severe and protracted cold weather’, Icelanders were de facto deprived of the ‘valuable food on which the natives depended in normal times’.29 While, Johnsson notes that most chieftaincies were located with respect to ‘the convenience of access to the sea […] or to inland rivers’, he then drops the topic of fishing though Icelandic sagas often mention fishing and fishing related activities.30 In his chapter on commerce and navigation during the Commonwealth (c. 930-1262-64), Johnsson states that ‘shortly after the discovery of Iceland the settlers established commercial relations with several places in Norway’, and especially with Skiringssalr on the southern coast.31 If correct, this would highlight that Iceland and Norway were commercial partners from the earliest time onwards; unfortunately, Johnsson omits to discuss what was traded between these 27 Gelsinger, Icelandic Enterprise: Commerce and Economy in the Middle Ages, pp. 185-190. 28 Johnsson, Pioneers of Freedom, An Account of the Icelander and the Icelandic Free State, 874-1262. 29 Johnsson, Pioneers of Freedom, An Account of the Icelander and the Icelandic Free State, pp. 8-9, 17, 18. 30 Johnsson, Pioneers of Freedom, An Account of the Icelander and the Icelandic Free State. 31 Johnsson, Pioneers of Freedom, An Account of the Icelander and the Icelandic Free State, p. 229.

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countries. With regards to those handling trade, the author claims that these people were ‘described as merchants or sailing men’, and that ‘in time’ an Icelandic merchant class did emerge; yet there is no description of what Iceland traded, which opens to debate on what Iceland could supply.32 Unfortunately, Johnsson fails to reference all these statements, which tend to weaken his narrative. In the context of the present thesis, Jón Jóhannesson’s work has a strong appeal for it presents a vivid picture of both the economic and social conditions from the ninth century onwards.33 By using the Icelandic sagas, Jóhannesson could present a history of Iceland from Landnám to the medieval period and filled the gap in historical knowledge. In respect of trade, Jóhannesson made clear that Iceland’s products were so scarce to remain economically viable, Icelanders had to trade what Iceland produced: falcons, farm products, furs and sulphur.34 Interestingly, there is no mention of fish as a product of economic value, although fish and fishing rights are often mentioned in the Icelandic sagas as will be discussed in the next chapter. Though Jóhannesson has no doubt that fishing was a source of income and that chieftains were involved in regional fish trade, the lack of empirical data together with the fairly uniform view that Iceland’s fishing industry was a late medieval development were many factors which drove Jóhannesson to adopt the common view regarding ‘industrial’ fishing and Icelandic fish export for the period under study.35 On the other hand, he notes that the civil conflict of the thirteenth century ‘caused a reduction in fishing’.36 This civil turmoil opposed the most powerful chieftains, who owned high status farms that were central to economic functioning, fishing stations and ships. If Jóhannesson is correct in his appraisal of the effect of the civil conflict on the economy, then it could be posited that commercial fishing and export (if already in place) would be affected. His standpoint about the absence of commercial fishing in the earlier period seems to find support in three late eleventh and twelfth-century sources; Adam of Bremen, Bandamanna saga and the Alþíng. While in the late eleventh century, Adam claimed that livestock exploitation ‘was the sole livelihood of the Icelanders’, Bandamanna saga mentions export of fish and, lastly, fish and fish products were not accepted as legal tender by the Alþíng. 32 Johnsson, Pioneers of Freedom, An Account of the Icelander and the Icelandic Free State, p. 236. 33 Jóhannesson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, Íslendinga Saga. 34 Jóhannesson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, Íslendinga, Saga. p. 310. 35 Jóhannesson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, Íslendinga, pp. 303-305. 36 Jóhannesson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, Íslendinga, p. 305.

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Sagas were also used by Ásgeir Jakobsson and William Ian Miller as a major source of evidence for medieval Iceland.37 In a study on Þórður kakali (thirteenth century Icelandic chieftain), Ásgeir Jakobsson strongly opposes the common view on commercial fishing and using the eponymous saga (Þórðar saga kakala which describes conflicts between the leading families in the Westfjords between 1240 and 1250), Jakobsson argues that in his study area, as in the Westfjords, cultivable lands were limited by topography, hence the inhabitants had little choice but to resort more to fishing than farming for subsistence. He also notes that the fishing grounds off the Westfjords are amongst the richest and easy to reach, and that such characteristic might also have played a role in the feud.38 In Jakobsson’s opinion, the Westfjords’ people were mostly fishermen from the earliest times, and they were the best fishermen in Iceland.39 In his chapter on aspects of the Icelandic economy during the Viking Age, William Ian Miller states that ‘exchange of fish for farm produce must have been fairly common’, and that in one occasion, at least fishing provided the ‘initial funds to launch a very successful career in long distance trade. He nonetheless is very cautious concerning the place of fish as an economic asset in that period. 40 To him, ‘the structures of dominance in Iceland were constructed as if fish did not exist’ and that ‘marks of status were land and livestock, not fish and fishing boats’. 41 Such a distinction between sources and expressions of wealth, however, seems artificial and highly contrived. There is no obvious incompatibility between extracting incomes from the exploitation of fish and investing the subsequent profit in land and manageable livestock; indeed, long houses, halls and churches constitute the best visible apparatus of wealth rather than a pile of fish heads and stretches of water. As Miller and Jóhannesson, Jón Th. Thór asserts that fishing played a ‘major role in the welfare’ of the Icelandic community, and although fully acknowledging that with the coastal location of most settlements together with the ‘building’ of their own fishing craft, settlers fished and exploited other marine resources, it remained a ‘domestic’ activity until 1300. 42 This claim is based on ‘source material’ indicating that for seven or eight decades after settlement the fisheries were conducted on a largely individualistic 37 Magnússon, Northern Sphinx: Iceland and the Icelanders from the Settlement to the Present. 38 Jakobsson, Þórður kakali. 39 Jakobsson, Þórður kakali, p. 36. 40 Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking, Feud, Law and Society in Saga Iceland, pp. 79-80. 41 Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking, Feud, Law and Society in Saga Iceland, pp. 79-80. 42 Thór, ‘Icelandic Fisheries, c. 900-1300’, in Starkey, Thór and Heidbrink (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, pp. 323-324.

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basis’ but Thór unfortunately omits to reference any sources. As there are no contemporary documents existing from earlier than the 1100s when literate culture began to evolve in Iceland, Thór’s analysis of fishing as a domestic activity should be dealt with caution since prior to 1117-18 oral tradition prevailed. For instance, his statement on the ‘individualistic’ side of the activity does not invalidate the hypothesis that this was conducted by professional fishermen; furthermore, by stating that this activity lasted until c. 940-950, one’s interpretation of Thór’s statement is that after that period, fishing became organised in more professional and co-operative ways. As for the beginning of the ‘commercial’ fisheries which he dates to c. 1300, Thór bases this claim on Jóhannesson’s publication in 1965 rather than primary material. Similarly, and with regards to fishing equipment, boat buildings, fishing stations and fishermen, it has to be noted that Thór reproduces the work of Lúdvik Kristjánsson who published five volumes on Iceland sea fisheries in the 1980s. While Kristjánsson used written documents (sagas and Diplomatarium Islandicum), his research is rather anthropologically and ethnographically orientated rather than being a purely historical thesis on the emergence of commercial fishing in Iceland; unlike the present thesis, Kristjánsson’s aim was not to model the emergence of commercial fishing and the socio-economic development of a community developing a fish-based economy from settlement onwards, but rather to present the daily life of fish folks from the modern era. Writing in 2015, Zori claimed that the widespread corpus of Icelandic sagas – inscribed in the World Heritage List – has been used by archaeologist and recent projects ‘engage the texts directly’. 43 On balance, these authors’ dependence on the sagas and their use as ‘primary’ materials might be questioned, since sagas are commonly acknowledged as being fictional works. Icelandic sagas are acknowledged to be a mature form of literature that has its root in an age where all stories were orally transmitted. This supposed oral origin of the sagas is the cause of major disagreement between two schools of thoughts, Bookprose and Freeprose, which emerged in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. The Bookprose School claimed that no historical veracity was contained within the sagas and that they were pure fiction, while the Freeprose School argued that historical facts were present in the sagas, which should therefore be regarded as valuable sources. Furthermore, the freeprosists maintained that the sagas were already completely formed in the oral tradition prior to their writing. For instance, Vésteinn Ólason has suggested that the Sagas 43 Zori, The Norse in Iceland, p. 2-3.

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of the Icelanders, Íslendingasögur, act as bridges between the Viking Age and the medieval period when the sagas were composed.44 For him, there is no doubt that oral tradition ‘with truth and fiction’ was still alive in the thirteenth century and that it transmitted knowledge on people and events from the tenth and eleventh centuries.45 Furthermore, Ólason remarks that sagas offer real images of life in the ancient Icelandic society, belonging to the ‘truth’ side of these texts; from this starting point, it is, therefore, possible to extract economic information with regards to mercantile fishing from which to build an historical hypothesis. However and as noted above, the main problem in the writing of Iceland’s history lies with the sources; basically, knowledge about early Iceland is limited due to the dearth of primary sources. 46 Miller points out that both the misuse and mistrust in the Icelandic sagas are the direct consequence of ‘narrow views’ on what should constitute suitable topics of historical analysis and the ‘Icelandic school’ which focused essentially on manuscript criticism rather than extracting economic data;47 they concentrated on the form rather than the content. And this dearth of sources is not typical to Iceland. Alf Ragnar Nielsen who researched the Norwegian fisheries from the twelfth to the mid-nineteenth century claimed that Norwegian ‘viable commercial fishing had emerged by the twelfth century’, but he acknowledged that there is not enough information to establish accurately when it happened. 48 This date is, however, revised by Narve Bjørgo as quoted by Nielsen for the eleventh century, when royal taxation, from the 1030s, on ‘individuals fishing’ is first mentioned in the sources.49 Nielsen further develops his argument and states that through the confiscation of lands in the late eleventh century in Vágar, Norway – Northern district and main supplier of cod – the Norwegian Crown was ‘actively engaged in commercial fishing’.50 If we accept the basics of Nielsen’s model, it is possible that intensive fishing practices were introduced to Iceland by chieftains and freemen migrating from Norway. 44 Ólason, Dialogues with the Viking Age, Narration and Representation in the Sagas of the Icelanders, pp. 246-247. 45 Ibid, pp. 19, 43. 46 Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking, Feud, Law, and Society in Saga Iceland, p. 43. 47 Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking, Feud, Law, and Society in Saga Iceland, p. 45. 48 Nielsen, ‘Norwegian Fisheries, c. 1100-1850’, in Starkey, Thór and Heidbrink. (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, p. 84. 49 Nielsen, ‘Norwegian Fisheries, c. 1100-1850’, in Starkey, Thór and Heidbrink. (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, p. 84. 50 Nielsen, ‘Norwegian Fisheries, c. 1100-1850’, in Starkey, Thór and Heidbrink. (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, p. 84

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Chieftains possessed the best coastal areas and fishing grounds attached to those lands, and, therefore, were directly involved in commercial fishing. Archaeological and paleo-environmental research has shown that the settlers’ choice of coastal sites or river valleys, especially in the south and west regions of Iceland, was based on the availability of wetland and fodder resources to sustain livestock over the winter period.51 Indeed, it appeared that the ability of the settlers to adapt and adjust to their environments was a factor that allowed the development of sustainable agricultural and fishing patterns inherent to Iceland. In his study of rural societies and economic developments in early medieval Western Europe, Chris Wickham explored ‘how to construct [economic] models’ by comparing rural societies from diverse parts of Carolingian Europe and presents a ‘case study’ on tenth-eleventh century Iceland for the development of a ‘peasant-based’ social system.52 In this system, the term ‘peasant-based’ society describes a society based mainly on an agricultural economy, carried out by families tenured for generations to land owned by the ruling elite (whether nobility or Church). This ‘peasant-based’ economic and social system was prevalent amongst the various tribes who migrated to Scandinavia from what is now Germany. Such socio-economic and political development in Iceland has been also discussed by Sveinbjorn Johnsson who states that ‘in some respect, Icelandic law is of ancient vintage and rests upon principles, social and political, having their foundation in the remote history of northern Europe’53 According to German economic history theorists, this economy is not identified with ‘a world in itself’, ein Welt für sich, but rather an economy that constitutes a whole within the global economy, ein Weltwirschaft.54 From this starting point, it is possible to develop a theoretical socio-economic model adapted to the North Atlantic Realm of the Viking and medieval era with special reference to both Iceland and the Faeroes as proposed in chapter five. The Icelandic society that emerged during the Viking Age is commonly presented as a non-monarchic, ‘non-monetary’ society with no executive government, based on ‘blood and non-blood kinship which served principally to form a network of preestablished relationships that could be mobilised according to the talents 51 Simpson et al., ‘Fuel resource utilisation in landscapes of settlement’, p.1401. Vésteinsson et al, ‘Enduring Impacts: Social and Environmental Aspects of Viking Age Settlement in Iceland and Greenland’, pp. 98-136. 52 Wickham, ‘Problems of comparing rural societies in early medieval Western Europe’, pp. 222, 237-241. 53 Johnsson, Pioneers of Freedom, An Account of the Icelanders, p. 105. 54 Braudel, Une leçon d’Histoire, Châteauvallon-Octobre 1985, p. 6.

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and resources of the individual’.55 In this context, Byock notes that Icelandic society was highly hierarchical and possessed an effective legislative system. The chieftains were powerful landowners who, until the Christianisation of Iceland, c. 1000, were also priests – most of them remaining in the clergy after 1000 – hence it is likely that political and economic powers were also shared between them. This Icelandic legal-politico-economic organisation is very similar and possibly rooted in what German scholars have identified as Markgenossenschaft: an agrarian association of free peasants that had political functions of a local character.56 In this connection, Johnsson highlights that the ‘Icelandic law is of ancient vintage, having their foundation in the remote history of northern Europe’.57 Furthermore, it should be noted that records and sagas show that the most active chieftains and law speakers benefited from Norwegian royal support and protection. Another way to tackle a society and its economic and political developments is through the prism of religious customs. In the Christianization of Iceland, Priests, Power and Social Change, 1000-1300 (2000), the archaeologist Orri Vésteinsson has offered an overview of the establishment of Christianity in Iceland.58 While Vésteinsson did not specifically study the exploitation of environmental resources, his work enables the reader to grasp the relationships between non-Christians, Christians, chieftains and bishops; it seeks to demonstrate how temporal and spiritual powers merged and gave birth to a new class of chieftain-priests. This present review of secondary sources on the Christianisation of Iceland opens a broader picture of medieval Iceland in that they describe economic processes and religious developments that were at the root of medieval Icelandic society. Christianisation brought to Iceland modified diet patterns that comprised more ‘white’ foodstuffs – including marine products – than before. From Christianisation, a new calendar emerged with more than 182 days when meat was banned. As noted by Maryanne Kowaleski, although augmentation of the population and urbanisation played a role in the increased demand for fish, ‘it was the fasting and abstinence strictures of the Catholic Church that shaped the demand for fish’.59 While her research focused on Medieval Britain, Catholic 55 Byock, Viking Age Iceland, p. 188. 56 Stephenson, Medieval Institutions, selected essays, p. 262-264 57 Johnsson, Pioneers of Freedom, An Account of the Icelanders, p. 105. 58 Vésteinsson, The Christianization of Iceland, Priests, Power and Social Change, 1000-1300, Oxford University Press (Oxford, 2000) 59 Kowaleski, ‘The Seasonality of Fishing in Medieval Britain’, in Bruce, (ed.), Ecologies and Economies in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, Studies in Environmental History for Richard C. Hoffmann, p. 117.

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orthodoxy required that the Icelandic population should adapt the same alimentary pattern, which in turn brought changes to the economy with an increase in fish demand. Christianisation of Iceland therefore probably boosted fishing and perhaps played a role in the specialisation and division of Icelandic society into farmers and ‘aquatic’ workers. In this connection, Sigríður Pétursdóttir, in her discussion of salmon fishing and tenure of riverine fishing rights, highlights that some of the best salmon rivers were owned by the Church, which acquired many of them after Christianity was adopted.60 Miller stresses that there is little doubt that the ‘Icelandic clergy men of all ranks’ acted as laymen with regards to economic matters;61 he seems to echo Johnsson who claimed that ‘from purely commercial standpoint, it was advantageous to submit to the sacrament of baptism’. The Christianisation of some Icelandic chieftains could therefore be approached through the economic prism.

Archaeological Research and Environmental Sciences Studies Related to Fish in Viking Age and Medieval Iceland A better understanding of the development of medieval societies might be gained through an interdisciplinary and integrated research program that encompasses historical and scientific methodologies in a coherent approach. As David Shaw has claimed, ‘historians need to know how scientific discoveries and paradigms can help them conceive of human history’.62 As sciences are an integral part of the proposed research in this thesis, what follows are examples of the available material corresponding to the current state of research and knowledge related to fish exploitation in Viking Age/ medieval Iceland and the Faeroes. In 1999, the zooarchaeologist Clayton Tinsley published a report on the faunal taxa that had been recovered from two sites in the interior of northern Iceland, Hofstaðir and Sveigakot.63 The aim of Tinsley’s research was to use faunal remains to determine how the pattern of settlement in Iceland developed. He demonstrated that until AD 950, the inhabitants 60 Pétursdóttir, ‘God’s Gift, Salmon fishing in Iceland in the Middle Ages’, in Holm, Starkey, and Thór (eds.), North Atlantic Fisheries, 1100-1976, National Perspectives on a Common Resource, pp. 59, 61. 61 Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking, Feud, Law and Society in Saga Iceland, p. 37. 62 Shaw, ‘The Return of Science’, p. 3. 63 Tynsley, ‘The Viking Settlement of Northern Iceland, A Preliminary Zooarchaeological Analysis’.

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consumed gadid fish species (cod, haddock and saithe) and post-AD 950 the diet changed and they ate more salmonid f ish than gadid. Such a change can indicate a reduction in coast-inland fish trade activity with an increase in salmonid catches and preservation by the Mývatn inhabitants. Thomas McGovern has recently observed that excavated sites located in the northern coastal area of Iceland present a high percentage of gadids in the archaeofauna taxa that could be interpreted as the product of both subsistence and non-subsistence activities.64 These sites range from the ninth to the eleventh century, which suggests that the settlers exploited marine resources and especially fish as early as the settlement for both domestic consumption and trade.65 In 1993, Birgit and Peter Sawyer noted that the urban developments of the eleventh and twelfth centuries played a considerable role in the acute demand for preserved food, and that dried fish was amongst the preserved goods supplied to European towns.66 Yet, in their chapter on the development of trade – including the stockfish commerce – and towns from 800 to 1500, Sawyer and Sawyer do not mention Iceland at all, which gives an incorrect impression on the economic development in the North Atlantic during the medieval period.67 Although the lack of urbanisation in Iceland and the Faeroes certainly played a role in their exclusion of the discussion, it remains that Iceland, and to a certain extent the Faeroes, participated in this trade since the 1300s according to the common view. It seems that Sawyer and Sawyer’s views on Scandinavian history were written from a Norwegian perspective; while Iceland and the Faeroes are not considered as Scandinavian, it cannot be denied that their history and economic development are associated with Scandinavian countries, especially Norway and Denmark, and should therefore have been at least presented as a commercial partner. With regards to Icelandic fishing, Colin Amundsen et al. have suggested that the analysis of the fish collection from an Icelandic site ‘dating from the ninth century reinforces evidence for an early, pre-Hanseatic Icelandic fish trade’.68 In their recent study on Hanseatic trading and fishing sites in 64 McGovern, et al., Coping with Hard Time in NW Iceland, pp. 15-16. 65 McGovern, et al., ‘Coastal Connections, local fishing and sustainable egg harvesting: patterns of Viking Age inland wild resources use in Mývatn district, Northern Iceland’, 66 Sawyer, and Sawyer, Medieval Scandinavia, From Conversion to Reformation circa 800-1500,p. 157. 67 Sawyer, and Sawyer, Medieval Scandinavia, From Conversion to Reformation circa 800-1500, pp. 144-165. 68 Amundsen et al., ‘Fishing Booths and fishing Strategies in Medieval Iceland: An Archaeofauna from the site of Akurvík, North-West Iceland’, p. 127.

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Iceland, Mark Gardiner and Natascha Mehler claim that from the ninth century, ‘trading and fishing has played a significant part in the lives of Icelanders’ and that ‘there were good economic reasons for these activities’.69 Gardiner and Mehler stress that Iceland possesses good landing places which were crucial for Icelanders; fishing and trading were culturally significant.70 For the authors, historians have neglected the topic of fishing, particularly in the Middle Ages compared to the attention accorded to trade, which has been demonstrated by the present historiography.71 However, Gardiner and Mehler stress that in the twelfth century, commodities were imported to Iceland and landed in the main Northern port of Gásir, and exchanged for stockfish as will be discussed in the next chapter.72 This is an indication that stockfish was traded prior to the late thirteenth century. While it can be argued that generality cannot be drawn from regional studies, they nonetheless participate to the building of general hypothesis; furthermore, such studies highlight that the discrepancies between archaeological data, and written sources feed the debate about the emergence of commercial fishing.

The Faeroes Academic works on the Faeroes remain scarce. As Young noted in 1979, the early period of Viking settlement ‘is one in respect of which conjecture and legend must have supremacy over proven fact’; this is still an actuality.73 Furthermore, the fact that the Faeroe Islands appeared to be under Norwegian influence since the ninth century meant that historians very often have associated the archipelago with Norway in much the same way as Iceland has been treated. The problem originates in the dearth of primary material, which has led mainstream historians to ignore these islands. Written Faeroese is a modern linguistic invention only c. 150 years old. Older Faeroese records once existed, but much was lost in a fire in Nidaros in 1531, and more was burned in the seventeenth century 69 Gardiner and Mehler, ‘English and Hanseatic Trading and Fishing Sites in Medieval Iceland: Report on Initial Fieldwork’, p. 386. 70 Gardiner and Mehler, ‘English and Hanseatic Trading and Fishing Sites in Medieval Iceland: Report on Initial Fieldwork’, p. 386. 71 Gardiner and Mehler, ‘English and Hanseatic Trading and Fishing Sites in Medieval Iceland: Report on Initial Fieldwork’, p. 388. 72 Gardiner and Mehler, ‘English and Hanseatic Trading and Fishing Sites in Medieval Iceland: Report on Initial Fieldwork’, p. 389. 73 Young, From the Vikings to the Reformation, A Chronicle of the Faroe Islands up to 1538, p. 5.

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on Tinganes, now part of Tórshavn, and in two fires in Copenhagen in 1728 and 1795. As pointed out by Símun Arge, the history of the Faeroes has to be researched ‘through archaeological material and evidence from natural sciences’.74 The absence of surviving documentary records means that multi-disciplinary projects will therefore provide the basis for the Faeroese section. Publications on Faeroese history during the Viking Age and Medieval period are extremely limited. The few accounts relating to the period cited above amount from a handful of lines to a few paragraphs in general textbooks on ‘Vikings’, medieval Iceland and medieval Norway.75 The archipelago is mentioned in those texts, in respect of both Viking raids and Viking colonisation of the North Atlantic islands. It is generally acknowledged that the first Norwegians to settle in the Faeroes arrived in c. 825 with an overall permanent settlement in c. 900 and ‘incorporation into Norway’ in 1035.76 Most writings focus on the settlement of the Faeroes and the agricultural activity of their inhabitants, although the latter cannot be considered as ‘economic’ history discussions on the economic development of the archipelago. Indeed, accounts of agricultural patterns cannot comply with economic research per se, although these descriptions provide information that can be explained by economic theories and integrated within economic models. For Símun Arge, farming was the main economic activity of the islands, relegating fishing as a subsistence strategy until the late nineteenth century ‘when the acquisition of seagoing fishing vessels started’.77 Overall, the principal impression from the limited published discussion is that the Faeroes are perceived as tributary lands of the Norwegian and Danish crowns, and political and religious topics are central to Faeroese historical research. Furthermore, it must be noted that as most historical publications pre-date the development of interdisciplinary collaborative projects, the limited sources with regards to the Faeroes’ economic development did not allow for economic reconstructions. Yet, in his study of Faeroes life, Kenneth Williamson briefly mentioned that in 1168, the Norwegian king 74 Arge, ‘Vikings in the Faeroe Islands’, in Fitzhugh and Ward (eds.), Viking: The North Atlantic Saga, p. 155. 75 Urbańczyk, Medieval Arctic Norway; Sawyer, Kings and Vikings; Foote and Wilson, The Viking Achievement; Jones, A History of the Vikings; Brøndsted, The Vikings; Byock, Viking Age Iceland. 76 Urbańczyk, Medieval Arctic Norway, pp. 68-69. 77 Arge, ‘Cultural Landscapes and Cultural Environment issues in the Faeroes’, in Mortensen and Arge (eds.), Viking and Norse in the North Atlantic, Select Papers from the Proceedings of the Fourteenth Viking Congress, Tórshavn 19-30 July 2001, p. 23.

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‘for in decrying the evils that the merchants of the German ports brought to Norway’, declared his friendship to: […] those who come from […] the Faeroes or Iceland, and all who have brought to this country the things we cannot do without.78

Although Williamson noted that the king’s declaration had been recollected by Snorre Sturlason, he unfortunately failed to reference Sturlason’s work, however, though the quote suggests that Faröymen were trading with Norway, it gives little assistance about the object of trade. The reigning Norwegian king in 1168 was Magnus Erlingson (1161-84), aged twelve in 1168 and though Sturlason wrote his saga, there is no mention of the Faeroes in Sturlason’s History of Magnus V Erlingson within Heimskringla or The Lives of the Norse Kings.79 Yet, the two staples that come to mind which were abundant in both countries were sheep and fish; the importation of sheep to Norway has never been documented, whereas fish was essential to Norway’s economy. Though fisheries from the Lofoten area in northern Norway supplied the country, fishing was seasonal, and the amount of catches was not enough to cover both internal and overseas trade. A possible partnership between Norway, Iceland and, to a certain extent, the Faeroes, is a possibility that cannot be ignored and deserves further inquiry.

The Faeroes and Environmental Sciences Research In 1996, David Gaffin noted that the only ethnographies of the Faeroes consisted of two unpublished PhD theses, while historical research covering the Viking Age and the early medieval period of the Faeroes is inadequate.80 Since Gaffin’s research, archaeological projects in the archipelago have expanded knowledge with regards to the Faeroes’ economy in the early medieval period. Perhaps the biggest advance came in 2005, when a group of researchers published a series of palaeo-environmental and archaeological papers showing that Scandinavian settlers imported to the Faeroes their mode of agriculture and perhaps livestock.81 This represented a development 78 Williamson, The Atlantic Islands, A Study of the Life and Scene, p. 21. 79 Sturlasson, Heimskringla, pp. 709-738. 80 Gaffin, In place, Spatial and Social Order in a Faeroe Islands Community, ix. 81 Human Ecology, An Interdisciplinary Journal. Special Issue: Historical Human Ecology of the Faroe Islands.

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from work by Hannon and Bradshaw published in 2000, which argued that the date for the introduction of domestic animals appears to be between AD 560 and 900.82 In a paper on Viking and medieval settlement in the Faeroes, Símun Arge et al. came to the conclusion that: The earliest settlers were farmers who, despite their reliance on marine resources, were first and foremost looking for land where they could practice animal husbandry and perhaps grow some cereals.83

Although husbandry seemed to have been far more important than the exploitation of marine resources at least until the thirteenth century;84 Peder Haahr highlighted in an article on climatic data that the excess of rainfall damaged both cultivation and harvest.85 It can be argued that this factor could have played a role in increased fishing activity with production of a surplus that could be traded. Although several papers exist on Viking Age and early medieval Faeroes, such as those published in Viking and Norse in the North Atlantic, to date no research has been undertaken on the Faeroese fisheries during the medieval period.86 Therefore, one of the issues is to search for the emergence of commercial fishing, and then to clarify if fishing at an increased level might have occurred earlier than the proposed date of the fourteenth century. The main question being, why would the Faeroese have waited at least four hundred years before implementing an economy based on renewable resources, especially when both climatic conditions and geographical locations of some islands were more favourable to the exploitation of marine resources rather than agricultural activities? Although there is the possibility that the Faeroes were involved in commercial fishing prior to the proposed date, the lack of historical data coupled with the developing archaeo-environmental projects, makes one think that the thesis proposed in the present research with regards to the emergence of commercial fishing in the Faeroes will be relatively secondary compared to that for Iceland. Yet, the aim of the research concerning the Faeroes is, 82 Hannon and Bradshaw, ‘Impacts and Timing of the first Human Settlement on Vegetation of the Faroe Islands’, p. 411. 83 Arge et al., ‘Viking and Medieval Settlement in the Faeroes: People, Place and Environment’, p. 615. 84 Arge et al., ‘Viking and Medieval Settlement in the Faeroes: People, Place and Environment’, pp. 597-720. 85 Haahr, ‘Climatic Data and Faeroese Agriculture’, pp. 89-90. 86 Mortensen and Arge (eds.), Viking and Norse in the North Atlantic, Select Papers from the Proceedings of the Fourteenth Viking Congress, Tórshavn, 19-30 July 2001.

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as with Iceland, to propose historical and environmental reconstructions that contribute to the understanding of human adaptation to the natural environment, and the subsequent economic developments.

Archaeo-ichthyological Research With respect to fish itself, archaeo-ichthyological (fish related archaeology) papers provide the necessary background that allows any researcher to understand the habits of different species and their exploitation since prehistoric times. For instance, in his article on ‘The development of fishing in prehistoric Europe’, John Clark has provided an analysis of the development and improvement of modus operandi that identifies the apparatus needed to develop recurrent fishing activity since the Neolithic age. According to him, in Norway the strictly seasonal character of the cod fishery must have stimulated the development of means for preserving some of the catch for use at other times of the year.87 In 1999, James Barrett published a paper that developed on Clark’s arguments. He observed that the ‘offshore fishery, with boats travelling up to five miles’ had been identified for the Neolithic and/or Bronze Age periods.88 Actually, light, temperature, and prey density distribution affect the foraging migration pattern of cod, besides in ‘August/ September, cod are distributed deeper during the day’. No doubt that offshore fishery during early historical periods indicates a sound knowledge of fish habits. While his paper focused on Scotland, antiquarians recognise that such practices were common to the North Atlantic people. More to the point, Barrett also pointed out that ‘the importance of cod to the inhabitants of northern Scotland increased at the transition from Iron Age to the Viking Age’ indicating that the Scandinavians influenced fishing activity in Northern Scotland.89 Such increase in fish bones from Norse settlements has been revealed in numerous Scottish sites.90 For instance, excavations at Sandwick and Freswick Links have exposed the intensification of fishing related to the Scandinavians’ arrival, with an abundant exploitation of saithe, cod and ling occurring following the Norse settlement in the

87 Clarke, ‘The development of fishing in prehistoric Europe’, p. 76. 88 Clarke, ‘The development of fishing in prehistoric Europe’, p. 368. 89 Barrett, et al., ‘Archaeo-ichthyological Evidence for Long-term Socioeconomic Trends in Northern Scotland: 3500 BC to AD 1500’, p. 355. 90 Ritchie, Viking Scotland, pp. 36, 124.

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region.91 These zooarchaeological data became the basic foundation of the ‘fish horizon’ theory developed by Barrett. Indeed, the transition to a cod-based diet appears to be a cultural preference phenomenon brought to northern Scotland by the Norse and indicative of a pre-existing preference for that species and the technological know-how of how to catch it in large numbers. As a result, it has been recognised generally that sites settled by Norse colonists present a higher percentage of fish remains in archaeological contexts, which constitutes an economic ‘signature’ known as the ‘fish horizon’ event. Skeletal elements revealed that two size ranges were favoured: under 20cm length and between 35 and 90cm. Although there are specimens corresponding to the stockfish ‘commercial’ window, the smaller category might correspond to subsistence staple and ‘internal/ regional’ trade. Sophia Perdikaris’ study remains pivotal in zooarchaeological research on fishing activity and it must be acknowledged that subsequent work has been strongly influenced by it.92 The striking feature of her research lies with the establishment of a ‘stockfish window’ as a commercial product. She demonstrated that fish that were ‘commercialised’ had a size between 60 cm and 110 cm; furthermore, skeletal remains from commercial fishprocessing sites exhibit an over-representation of cranial elements, while sites processing fish for a subsistence strategy present a more balanced ratio between head and tail.93 Her research on Iron Age midden deposits of fish-bones in Norway established that professional fishing and stockfish production developed in the Early Iron Age in the Lofoten Islands in northern Norway. This work highlights that commercial fisheries were a ‘creation of high medieval economy and royal authority’.94 Although it is commonly acknowledged that Iceland, in the earliest periods of her history, was a Free State with no ruling monarch, it cannot be denied that the chieftains were the ruling elite, had access to the best fishing grounds and owned sea and riverine fishing rights. As in Norway, there is a great possibility that Icelandic commercial fisheries were privately owned by the chieftains and the product of high medieval economy. By the same token, 91 Ritchie, Viking Scotland, p. 124. Batey, ‘Frestwick Links, A Scandinavian Settlement’, in Batey, Jesch and Morris (eds.), Viking Age in Caithness, Orkney and the North Atlantic, pp. 37- 41. 92 Perdikaris, From Chiefly Provisioning to State Capital ventures: The transition from Natural to Market Economy and the commercialization of cod fisheries in Medieval Arctic Norway. 93 Perdikaris, From Chiefly Provisioning to State Capital ventures: The transition from Natural to Market Economy and the commercialization of cod fisheries in Medieval Arctic Norway, pp. 118-123. 94 Perdikaris, From Chiefly Provisioning to State Capital ventures: The transition from Natural to Market Economy and the commercialization of cod fisheries in Medieval Arctic Norway, p. 91.

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Perdikaris highlights that fisheries were under ecclesiastical control. It can be assumed that the Christianisation of Iceland in c. 1000 favoured such economic control by the church. Overall, Sophia Perdikaris’ thesis remains essential for anyone researching commercial fishing in the North Atlantic. It identifies the key features that should be researched to enable the gap left by the dearth of primary sources to be filled. Rebecca Nicholson, whose research on Tofts Ness and Pool on the Orkney island of Sanday has shown that ‘more specialised’ fishing developed in conjunction with the Viking incursions, echoes Barrett’s statement; however, she warned that though ‘professional’ fishermen might be responsible for such catches, this does not speak necessarily for commercial purposes.95 Such a shift in fishing patterns is also seen at the St Boniface Church site on Papa Westray, Orkney, where, however, the size of gadid identif ied as large (60-120 cm total length) and very large (120-150 cm total length) could be interpreted as a specialised trade rather than mere subsistence economy.96 In this connection, it should be noted that cod (Gadus morhua) is the most important species of the gadid family and is the ‘commercial’ fish par excellence and that the ‘window’ size for commercial fish is between 70 cm to 110 cm length (stockfish window). Likewise, James Barrett and his colleagues have found similar cod length – between 80 and 120 cm – at five different sites in Scotland and Orkney: Pool, Quoygrew, Turquoy, Freswick and Burnside.97 According to Barrett, although gadids were a common catch from the Neolithic to the Iron Age, it seems that an increase by over 85% of gadids coincides with the arrival of Scandinavian settlers who imposed new subsistence and non-subsistence strategies on the colonised people.98 Indeed, the presence in archaeological sites of fish bones represents de facto evidence for resource stress or economic intensification as in the present case.99 Sophia Perdikaris has warned that there is no magical threshold percentage to separate subsistence from commercial production, but the percentage and the size of bones are pointers that speak strongly of 95 Nicholson, ‘Fishing in the Northern Isles: a Case Study Based on Fish Bone Assemblages from Two Multi-period Sites on Sanday, Orkney’, p. 27. 96 Cerón-Carrasco, ‘Fishing: Evidence for Seasonality and Processing of Fish for Preservation in the Northern Isles of Scotland During the Iron Age and Norse Times’, pp. 74-75. 97 Barrett. et al., ‘Archaeo-ichthyological Evidence for Long-term Socioeconomic Trends in Northern Scotland: 3500 BC to AD 1500’, p. 361. 98 Barrett. et al., ‘Archaeo-ichthyological Evidence for Long-term Socioeconomic Trends in Northern Scotland: 3500 BC to AD 1500’, p. 355. 99 Erlandson, ‘The Archaeology of Aquatic Adaptations: Paradigms for a New Millennium’, p. 292.

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a non-subsistence economy.100 From that, it could be argued that such an increase in fishing had an effect on other areas of the Scandinavian World and that what happened in Scottish waters extended to the North Atlantic. While it would be tempting to conclude that such an increase was due to the development of a non-subsistence economy, unless a detailed study of the bone assemblage is conducted to check if the bones’ length fit the ‘stockfish window’, it would remain difficult to draw any conclusion. In her research on the exploitation of marine resources in the Hebrides, Ruby Céron-Carrasco stressed that ‘in many environments, fish have been easier to obtain than meat’ and that ‘fish have certainly been a basic element of subsistence diet for coastal dwellers’.101 Actually, archaeologists have excavated increasing numbers of fish bones in the North Atlantic world from datable deposits, Thomas Amorosi et al. engaged in a survey of the findings and in 1994 published a cross-disciplinary preliminary report on Bioarchaeology and cod fisheries.102 According to Amorosi, the data collected throughout Iceland shows a constant exploitation of marine resources, and particularly cod, since the settlement period. For instance, the animal bone collection from a North East coastal site, Svalbard, shows that fish represented 42% of the taxa for the period between 1050 and 1150 and 55.58% for the period between c. AD 1240 and AD 1400. In 1986 and 1988, evaluations of the archaeological potential of site were led by a team of archaeologists of the Iceland Palaeoeconomies Project (IPP). The Svalbard project yielded one of the largest faunal collections recovered in Iceland at the time. In 2008, a team lead by Jim Woollett (Université Laval) re-opened the trenches and excavated in order to refine the chronological frame of the site. A Norse discoid gaming piece artefact dating from the eleventh century was recovered from one of the lowest midden, which correlates the 14C dates for the lowest layers of the stratigraphy.103 This study appears to confirm that the environmental and climatic conditions were optimum for the stability of the cod population of the North Atlantic. Indeed, the preservation of gadids is only possible in the regions that are climatically suited for the freeze-dry process that is required; sub-zero temperature 100 Perdikaris, ‘Scaly Heads and tales: Detecting commercialization in early fisheries’, p. 25. 101 Céron-Carrasco, Of fish and men, De iasg agus dhaoine. Aspects of utilization of marine resources as recovered from selected Hebridean archaeological sites, p. 47. 102 Amorosi et al., ‘Bioarchaeology and cod fisheries: a new source of evidence’, ICES Marine Science Symposia’ Cod, Climate Change’. 103 Amorosi et al., ‘Bioarchaeology and cod fisheries: a new source of evidence’, ICES Marine Science Symposia’ Cod, Climate Change’, pp. 37-38. Woollett, Preliminary Report of Archaeological Fieldwork at Svalbard (Svalbardshreppur), 2008.

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must be constant over days and nights. While bone assemblages show an increase in the ‘stock-fish window’ specimens from the mid-thirteenth century, it nonetheless could be argued that fish was exploited since the early eleventh century at least and that, perhaps, could speak for the launch of a non-subsistence economy.

Fishing and Fishing Communities: Anthropological, Archaeological and Historical Approaches James Bertram observed that research on fishing ‘must of necessity’ deal somehow with ‘the quaint people who gather the harvest’, otherwise it would be like playing a theatrical play without its main hero.104 Indeed, understanding the fisher-folk’s perception of their environment is central to anyone proposing a hypothesis with regards to fish-based economy. One of the issues with the topic of the present research is that writers on the histories of Iceland and the Faeroes have a ‘land’ or terrestrial standpoint. The Scandinavian settlement of these countries is dealt with through both a political and economic prism, yet the ‘hunger for land’ is presented as a motive for land’s taking, especially with regards to Iceland. Such a view reflects the authors’ own perception about man’s place in the environment, illustrating William Cronon’s argument that the ‘environment is a social construct’, and that we tend to apply this social construct to Nature.105 Within Nature, the ‘water world’ is perceived as an alien and magic world in which humans are tolerated, but it remains a ‘dangerous and risky environment for a terrestrial animal such as man’.106 ‘Man The Hunter’ as noted by Jon Erlandson, is a central theme in studies of both human-environment interaction and development of early economies.107 In fact, and contrary to ‘Man the Hunter’, historical studies including fishing as a topic tend to understand fishing as a subsistence activity, but not an activity from which an economy and a different societal structure from that of those exploiting the land can emerge. For most historians and anthropologists, fishing was seasonal, a buffer against famine, and the visible expression of a degraded terrestrial environment. When fishing appears in historical 104 Bertram, The Harvest of The Sea, p. 418. 105 Cronon, Uncommon Ground, Rethinking the Human Place in Nature, p. 287. 106 Acheson, ‘Anthropology of Fishing’, pp.287-288; Cronon, Uncommon Ground, Rethinking the Human Place in Nature, p. 287. 107 Erlandson, ‘The Archaeology of Aquatic Adaptations: Paradigms for a New Millenium’, p. 304.

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studies it is, indeed, mostly presented as a production for use as opposed to a production for exchange. This dichotomy contrasts the household basic needs for livelihood, and identified as domestic production, with the intensification of this domestic production in order to generate surpluses and wealth.108 In respect of the present research, the historiography has highlighted that archaeological projects have yielded data which points to exploitation of aquatic resources not only for domestic production but also for non-subsistence strategies; economic anthropology concepts will, therefore, help to connect these various patterns into a wider human ecodynamics and the emergence of a specialised trade. Manning Nash stresses that the organisation of economic life is related to ‘the social organisation carrying out the making of the goods, is dependent on, and derived from, other forms of social life’.109 Although fish is not a ‘good’ that is ‘made’, ‘stockfish’ is a transformed product (the head is removed, and the fish are of a particular size for commercial trade). Fisher-folk not only depend on their catches for subsistence purposes, but need to produce surpluses to generate an economy based on the exploitation of aquatic resources. The success or failure of such an economic venture depends not only on the ability to catch an abundance of fish, but also the capacity to organise the pre- and post-fishery activities, such as the preparation of bait, fishing equipment, boats, processing of fish and selling of the transformed staple. The success of such an economy is therefore based on ‘the structure and memberships of productive units’, which are families and kin bonds.110 The nucleus of the fisher-folk social structure is the family, where each member is involved in the fishing activities as described above; the family corresponding to what Nash described as a ‘productive unit’. With regards to the present research, it appears therefore that recovery of such a unit might be done using primary sources with the identification of settlers involved in fishing activities or fishing related activities. Such a unit might also be ‘located’ in the sources through their geographic area. In Icelandic laws, since stretches of sea off farms belonged to the farms, coastal chieftaincies asserted their authority over various ecozones – terrestrial, maritime and riverine – they were involved in fishing activities, from production to trading of fresh and dried fish. The fact that these activities were mainly handled 108 Sahlins, ‘The Intensity of Domestic Production in Primitive Societies: Social Inflections of the Chayanov Slope’, in Bohannan and Dalton(eds.), Studies in Economic Anthropology, pp.30-34. 109 Nash, ‘The Organization of Economic Life’, in Dalton (ed.), Tribal and Peasant Economies, Readings in Economic Anthropology, p. 5. 110 Nash, ‘The Organization of Economic Life’, in Dalton (ed.), Tribal and Peasant Economies, Readings in Economic Anthropology, pp. 4-6.

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by a landed elite is perhaps one of the reasons why Icelandic and Faeroese fisher-folk do not appear in sources, for they were part of the ‘landed’ class. The difficulty of ‘classifying’ fisher-folk is also a factor that poses difficulty to historians and those researching fishing communities. While all fisher-folk are coastal, riverine or estuarine dwellers, and that they can be identifiable in the ‘landscape’, their customs tend to be largely unknown and alien to the outsiders. Furthermore, they tend to be excluded from the hunter-gatherer category. Indeed, hunters and gatherers converted into farming cultures – cultivators and pastoralists – but the particularisms of fisher-folk lie with their adaptation and exploitation of an alien environment, as well as their ability to cultivate the land. Yet, fisher-folk are hunters and gatherers. Gordon Hewes notes that fishing is a global term covering different activities such as marine hunting, collection of marine fauna and fishing; these activities asked for various skills and technologies.111 While collection of marine fauna can be done from the shore as well as fishing, marine hunting needs more developed skills, knowledge and technology. For the same reason, non-professional men and women might do collection and shore fishing, whereas marine hunting and high sea fishing remain the domain of men. In respect of the dual capacity of fisher-folk, Paul Thompson’s study of Women in the Fishing highlights that in ‘most fishing societies the division of labour between the sexes appears fairly sharp: work ashore – preparing for the fishery and processing – is reserved to the women or shared, but work at sea is reserved for the men; women had to remain near the home and the children.112 For instance, in the northern districts of Norway, women and teenagers undertook the transhumance of the livestock to high mountain pastures, where they produced the dairy products for the household, while their husbands were ‘full-time’ fishermen.113 Women were also in charge of the household when the men were away fishing; the dual ‘economy’ of the fisher-folk is therefore gender orientated. However, it would be incorrect to think that women did not participate in fishing, and were the ‘terrestrial’ input of the fisher communities. While Thompson notes that in the modern era and in few countries, women are allowed on board for fish processing, fishing and occasional cooking, overall, women’s participation to fishing was – and still is – from the shore.114 Yet, the role of women in the fisheries is more complex with their 111 112 113 114

Hewes, ‘The Rubric ‘Fishing and Fisheries’, pp. 230-240. Thompson, ‘Women in the Fishing: The Roots of Power between the Sexes’, p. 5. Thompson, ‘Women in the Fishing: The Roots of Power between the Sexes’, p. 17. Thompson, ‘Women in the Fishing: The Roots of Power between the Sexes’, pp. 6-7.

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place in fishing communities largely depending on their husbands’ fishing activities. While Scottish herring women fish-workers were following the fleet during the fishing season, were earning incomes, and were independent, trawlermen’s wives remained at home and seemed to be considered by their husbands as ‘providers of sexual and cook services’, whereas in the line-fishing communities, men considered their wives as partners for their direct participation in the fishery as well as their responsibility for home and budget.115 It seems therefore that gender activity has to be part of the hypothesis developed. The debate on Iceland’s early commercial fishing is also fuelled by the idea generally acknowledged as expressed by Paul Durrenberger and Gísli Pálsson that the settlers of Iceland, and to a lesser extent the Faeroes, were from a peasant background and that fishing was a seasonal activity associated with other farm jobs.116 Although a great part of the Norwegian folk who settled in Iceland came from districts known for their fishing villages, it seems that, even amongst anthropologists, there exists a consensus rejecting the idea that settlers were fishermen and engaged in such activity on a permanent basis. In fact, if those settlers were farmers, their permanent terrestrial activity considerably hampered their ability to develop specific skills related to fishing. For instance, Paul Durrenberger and Gísli Pálsson have conducted several studies on Icelandic fishing and skippers’ behaviour. While they focus on the modern era, they stress that as fishing has always been an element of the Icelandic economy, Icelanders developed the ability to f ind and catch fish through the ages.117 Yet, the authors stress that the limited data available on fishing locations do not facilitate understanding of skippers’ fishing behaviour.118 However, interviews of modern fishermen show that they have built cognitive maps to locate fishing grounds, and memorized the waters’ fish abundance.119 From these interviews, it has been shown that, although some of the features may have changed (such as landing places, sea levels and technology employed) the ‘cognitive maps’ have been handed down and been adapted to take this into account from generation to generation of fisherman. From this, it can be argued that such a mental 115 Thompson, ‘Women in the Fishing: The Roots of Power between the Sexes’, pp. 13-15. 116 Durrenberger and Pálsson, ‘Forms of Production and Fishing Expertise’, in Durrenberger and Pálsson (eds.), The Anthropology Of Iceland, p. 4. 117 Durrenberger and Pálsson, ‘Forms of Production and Fishing Expertise’, in Durrenberger and Pálsson (eds.), The Anthropology Of Iceland, pp. 4, 10. 118 Durrenberger and Pálsson, ‘Finding Fish: The Tactics of Icelandic Skippers’, p. 216. 119 Durrenberger and Pálsson, ‘Finding Fish: The Tactics of Icelandic Skippers, p. 216.

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process of perception does not necessarily belong to modern man, and from such information passed on through the oral tradition it could be posited that the ninth century settlers of Iceland and the Faeroes possessed such ability. In 1989, Durrenberger and Pálsson published The Anthropology of Iceland, which is a collection of twelve papers covering four main issues: Ideology and Action, Kinship and Gender, Culture, Class and Ethnicity and The Commonwealth Period. In their essay ‘Forms of Production and Fishing Expertise’, Durrenberger and Pálsson concentrated on modern forms of production and fishing expertise and so avoided dealing with the early medieval period. They claim that though fishing was a constituent of the economy in Iceland from the time of settlement (ninth century), small fishing villages appeared where foreign fishermen had set up permanent bases of operation in a later period.120 At this early stage, it is worth noting that the settlement pattern we describe as ‘village’ did not exist in Iceland, where dispersed settlements were the norm. By overlooking the debate about the origin of commercial fishing in early medieval Iceland, Durrenberger and Pálsson have encouraged the idea that fish was not regarded as a significant economic asset prior to the so-called ‘Norwegian take-over’ of the late thirteenth century.121 Though it cannot be denied that economic anthropology provides sound basis in understanding of the socio-economic mechanisms of past societies, the fact that Durrenberger and Pálsson did not consider the period from the Settlement to the High Middle Ages to be significant tends to mislead readers regarding Iceland’s socio-economic developments. With regards to the document used, it seems that the source selection made by the author plays a role in the outcome of this analysis. In this respect, the work of George Dalton remains, to date, a fundamental study in economic anthropology, for he has researched extensively on markets and primitive money. In 1969, he methodically dissected the Theoretical issues in Economic Anthropology.122 This paper allows the reader to come to terms with primitive economic archetypes, the interaction between subsistence economy and centralised polity, chiefdom and primitive states. It considerably helps in the building of economic hypotheses and in their integration within an historical reconstruction of the socio-economic development of Iceland and to a certain extent the Faeroes. 120 Durrenberger and Pálsson (eds.), The Anthropology Of Iceland, p. 4. 121 Þorláksson, ‘Fiskur og höfðingjar á Vestfjörðum’, pp. 9-80. 122 Dalton, ‘Theoretical Issues in Economic Anthropology’.

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Kirsten Hastrup suggests that the natural ecological conditions in Iceland probably played a role in the political development of the so-called Free State. She points out that the environmental conditions were ‘changed to such an extent that even the most basic needs of the people could not be satisfactorily met, primarily because of shortage of grain and timber’.123 Although Icelanders grew grain, Hastrup’s appreciation of grain growing is relatively correct since environmental conditions did not favour such cultivation. With regards to timber demand, it must be noted that the most common Icelandic tree species were unsuitable for building ships; however, smaller craft could be made from the indigenous timber (this issue is discussed further in chapter five). Harstrup also suggested that the climatic changes in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries played a significant role in the Free State’s ability to remain ‘free’.124 According to her, the North Atlantic winds’ instability affected the summer sailing journeys to and from Iceland, leading to the country’s isolation, with commercial exchanges between Norway and Iceland ‘almost stopping in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries’.125 Overall, although Hastrup discusses the ‘ecology’ of medieval Iceland and its links to the social structure of the Icelandic society, she omits any discussion of the ‘aquatic’ element of the very same society. The absence of fish and fishing in her discussion is puzzling; indeed, her use of sagas and law texts must have brought to her attention the many regulations on sea and river exploitation. It is possible that since the use of aquatic resources is usually thought to be evidence for population pressure and environmental degradation, this does not fit within a ‘society and environment’ discussion.126 The lack of primary sources with regards to those who were involved in commercial fishing contributed largely to the idea that commercial fishing did not happen prior to the Norwegian participation in the late thirteenth century. Sagas, archaeological and environmental data indicate that fishing played an important role in the Icelandic society from Settlement onwards. Anthropological studies and theories relating to fishing and fishing communities have yielded valuable data with regards to social organisation and gender activity, which in turn 123 Hastrup, Culture and History in Medieval Iceland, An Anthropological analysis of structure and change, p. 159 124 Hastrup, Culture and History in Medieval Iceland, An Anthropological analysis of structure and change, p. 162. 125 Hastrup, Culture and History in Medieval Iceland, An Anthropological analysis of structure and change, p. 164. 126 Hastrup, Culture and History in Medieval Iceland, An Anthropological analysis of structure and change, pp. 157-222.

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widens the spectrum of investigations. This historiographical review shows that most historians’ works tend to conclude that commercial fishing postdates the late thirteenth century, while paleo-environmental data draw a rather different conclusion. These contradictions of results and hypotheses opened the way for new research and confirmed the idea that if some had settled in Iceland to cultivate land and conduct pastoralism, others must have assessed the potential for exploitation of natural renewable aquatic resources. The next chapter reviews and assesses Icelandic sagas and various primary sources related to the role and place of fishing in Iceland and the Faeroes and weighs if a fish-based economy and trade ever developed and grew from regional to national and pan-northern Europe from the Viking Age to the medieval period.

III Interdisciplinarity and Environmental History: Setting the Methodology In the writing of North Atlantic history, it appears that mainstream historians are essentially interested in modes of consciousness and of political development, and tend to overlook the settlers’ earliest economic patterns. However, as discussed in the historiography chapter, the review of scientists’ narratives has indicated that the range of environmental data available allows for the re-assessment of the emergence of fish trade in Iceland and, to a certain extent, the Faeroes. These empirical data together with written sources will enable the building of coherent theories about the exploitation of fish on a commercial scale prior to the thirteenth century. The elaboration and development of the method used for the present study is to propose a new line of inquiry and evidence to fill the gap within the historical discourse through environmental sciences such as zooarchaeology, but principally micromorphology. The theoretical approach supporting the methodology presented here is influenced by that developed in France in the second half of the nineteenth century by Lucien Febvre who is considered as ‘the founding father of the Annals School’. The Annales d’histoire, économique et sociale was founded in 1928 by historians Marc Bloch and Lucien Febvre, and has its roots in the journal Annales: économies, sociétés, civilisations. Their aims were the writing of ‘total history’ by shifting the focus on writing problem-oriented analytical history and looking at human activity comprehensively, and the development of collaborative and integrated works with economists, sociologists, geographers and historians. The movement developed through three periods; 1920-1945: strong opposition to the tradition of political history by Bloch and Febvre. Bloch developed the regressive method that consists of moving from the known to the unknown. He demonstrated this methodology through his Rois thaumaturges (1924), which is a study on the supernatural power attributed to royal families, especially in France and England during the medieval period. Bloch’s use of anthropology, histoire des mentalités and histoire comparée allowed him to explain how the belief in royals’ supernatural power spread. Bloch also researched the origins of rural France from the medieval era, the development of feudal society. Febvre is best known for his position on the integration of sciences in historical work as well as his rejection of the concept that the natural environment determined social evolution (determinism). On the contrary, Febvre developed Vidal de la

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Blache’s geographic possibilism theory: the exploitation of the environment depends of the techniques and choices developed by men; 1945-1968: Fernand Braudel and Ernest Labrousse joined the movement which then became a distinct school of thought in historical research: they looked at changes over the long term relying on other disciplines such as geography. Braudel’s La Méditerrannée et le Monde méditerranéen à l’époque de Philippe II (1949) and L’identité de la France, Les Hommes et les Choses (1986) epitomised best this period for they proposed a historical geography and a history of the environment. Labrousse, a social and economic historian, furthered Braudel’s work by adopting demographic models to write regional histories. His Cries de l’économie française à la fin de l’Ancien Régime et au début de la Révolution (1944) remains his best-known work, he demonstrated that the history of pricing is inseparable from social history. In 1968-1989 the movement fragmented and shifted from the socio-economic to the sociocultural using cultural anthropology. Jacques Le Goff and Pierre Nora’s Nouvelle Histoire (1978) represents well this third generation. They used historical anthropology to propose global analysis on social and economic organisational development over long periods. The fourth period (from the late 1980s) is represented by Bernard Lepetit, a modern historian whose work essentially concerned urban history and the organisation of networks within towns from the eighteenth to the nineteenth century. While Febvre and his successors, amongst them Marc Bloch and Fernand Braudel, engaged more with social sciences, archaeology, and in collaborative research, they nonetheless opened the path for new approaches in history. If it can be argued that the Annals’ approach is outdated and that new research in the social sciences has become increasingly important in the practice of environmental history, it must be noted that the method developed by the School is subjacent in each of these new studies.

Primary Sources Various sources are exploited in this project: Icelandic sagas, laws, and archives. The sagas are reviewed and the schools of thought regarding their use as historical material are discussed. Evans notes that ‘some postmodernist theory denies any possibility of separating text from context’, and therefore it would not be possible to use Icelandic sagas as sources

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with regards to early economic development.1 The non-contemporaneous aspect of the sagas has indeed deterred some historians from using them as valuable sources, although there is little doubt that early economic patterns are identifiable in these narratives. Many historians and philologists feel that the real issue with sagas lies with their interpretation rather than the political context in which they were written, whereas the anthropologists’ approach of the sagas is based on interpretivism. For instance, the majority of them were written in the late thirteenth century, a period after Icelanders had agreed to pay taxes to the Norwegian king, and hence had submitted to his royal authority. The prevalent historical perception is that Iceland’s new political status benefitted its economic activities, especially with regards to fishing. However, and as discussed in chapter 4, Icelandic sagas do not reveal a change in the Icelandic level of catches because of the Norwegians. Neither the Norwegian fishing fleet nor co-operative fishing campaigns were described in the sagas, which, however, f it a possible reality on Iceland and the Faeroese economic developments as will be discussed further in chapter 4. One’s approach to the debate about the sagas’ interpretation and their use as ‘primary’ sources is hermeneutics rather than postmodernist; by doing historical research, one participates in the cultural tradition of what is investigated. On a philosophical level, the gist of such research lies with the interpretation of a community’s written sources as well as how to communicate hypotheses and results to the community researched. In the present research, the methodology applied to the sagas is the same applied to archives and laws: it consists of researching excerpts relevant to the question. The postulation behind this approach is that, though these texts are not contemporary to the first centuries after the Settlement, savoir-faire regarding to fishing as well as the economy it boosted were orally transmitted, and is therefore relevant for the period under study. In fact, would the understanding of contemporary records for the later period reveal a ‘reality’ in the same way those narratives do? Laws and archives from the eleventh and twelfth centuries describe the same fishing activities as the thirteenth- and fourteenthcentury sagas; hence, this is interpreted as continuity in the economic patterns developed by the Icelanders from Landnám, with a first phase of knowledge and customs being transmitted orally and a second phase when oral tradition turned into written transmission. Else Mundal notes that the sagas’ descriptions of how people lived are valuable historical sources; she assumes that these descriptions have their reality in contemporary 1 Evans, In Defence of History, p. 158.

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life and that the habits and customs described could have happened in the manner presented.2 By the same token, Jesse Byock states that Icelanders wrote the sagas about ‘themselves and for themselves, thus opening an extraordinary window through which we can observe the operation of a medieval society’.3 Icelandic sagas are essential to Icelanders in that they form an anthology of medieval customs and habits; denying their factuality amounts to foregoing a quantity of significant information on economic ventures. Therefore, sagas and texts form the basis of the historical inquiry with regards to the emergence of commercial fishing in both Iceland and the Faeroes. At this stage, it has to be noted that the use of sagas as sources is still debated nowadays by the two schools of thoughts, the Bookprose and Freeprose, where a critical analysis of the use of sagas as historical sources is presented. To return to sagas, it cannot be denied that these sources help discern some pattern in what was economically perceived as an asset and how Icelanders exploited it; if the sagas’ use as ‘primary’ sources is debated since they are not contemporary to what they described ‘but an adaptation and interpretation of the history and culture’, 4 their descriptions of farming and, essentially, fishing remain essential since practice and equipment remained quite unchanged from the Iron Age to the medieval period in Iceland and the Faeroes according to Ludvik Kristjánsson,5 which is confirmed and reinforced by Jón Thór who claims that there was ‘no real improvement’ made on rowing boats from the medieval era to c. 1900 ‘until mechanized vessels were introduced’ as will be further discussed in chapter 5.6 On the validity of the use of written material as a basis for historical reconstructions, Ole Fenger states that, while ‘cultural and social body’ can be put together through the reading of primary sources, firstly, it is always a limited knowledge and, secondly, the subsequent historical model or theory developed is always hypothetical.7 Nonetheless, the study of the Icelandic narratives as developed in the sagas provides a noteworthy insight on day-to-day life, while the archives and legal texts give the contextual framework in which the Icelanders produced their subsistence and developed their economic strategies. 2 Mundal, Fylgjemotiva i norrøn litteratur. p. 23. 3 Byock, Medieval Iceland: Society, Sagas and Power, p. 10 4 Pálsson, From Sagas to Society, Comparative Approaches to Early Iceland, p. 28. 5 Kristjánsson, Íslenzkir Sjávarhættir 2 & 3. 6 Thór, ‘Icelandic Fisheries, c. 900-1900’, in Starkey, Thór and Heidbrink (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, Vol. 1, From Early Times to the Mid-Nineteenth Century, p. 326. 7 Fenger in Keller, The Eastern Settlement Reconsidered. Some Analysis of Norse Medieval Greenland, p. 37.

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Environmental History and Theories Environmental history as an approach to the understanding and explanation of historical processes has become increasingly fashionable amongst scholars. As Anna Lowenhaupt Tsing notes, that environmental history not only ‘brings historical nature into view’ but it also facilitates interaction with environmental sciences and enables the creation of an interdisciplinary framework.8 Such a framework is particularly relevant to the present research, which seeks to reveal past economic patterns grounded in the exploitation of marine and riparian fish. In a paper dedicated to ‘the robust field of environmental history’, John McNeill describes environmental history as being ‘the history of the mutual relations between humankind and the rest of nature’.9 For him, there are three ‘main varieties’ within the field: ‘cultural/intellectual’, ‘material’, and ‘political’ environmental histories. Cultural/intellectual environmental history emphasizes ‘representations and images of nature in arts and letters, how these have changed and what they tell about the people and societies that produced them’, political environmental history assesses ‘laws and state policy’ as it connects to ‘the natural world’, whereas material environmental history reflects on ‘changes in biological and physical environments and how those changes affect human societies’.10 It would seem that the present study will explore the three proposed ‘varieties’, for if its main objective is to identify the emergence of commercial fishing in Iceland and the Faeroes, that could not be achieved without assessing the settlers’ legal framework, into which were embedded fishing rights and fishing- related regulations, and understanding the settlers’ perception of their surrounding environment through sagas and texts, while ‘material environmental history’ can be gauged through the use of environmental data such as bones and soils. It seems, therefore, that by describing the ‘three main varieties’, McNeill also designs the theoretical and empirical spectrum of environmental history. Over the past two decades, environmental history has emerged as a field rather than remaining a sub-field of history. Mainstream historians have come to agree that humans cannot be dissociated from their natural surroundings and that, though the natural environment may appear passive, it plays a key role in the development of human culture, religion, politics, and 8 Lowenhaupt Tsing, ‘Nature in the Making’, in Crumley (ed.), New Directions in Anthropology and Environment. Intersections, pp. 6, 9. 9 McNeill, ‘Observations on the Nature and Culture of Environmental History’, p. 6. 10 Ibid.

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economy. The combination of history with other fields offers an extraordinary opportunity for new approaches and disciplines to interlock within the field of environmental history as the present work will demonstrate.

Consilience Marc Bloch’s uses of scientific disciplines to establish ‘explanatory relationships between phenomena’ allow researchers to initiate historical debates.11 Indeed, the very nature of environmental history allows practitioners to develop particular theories and concepts suitable for their own particular approaches. Such integration or cross-pollination has been emphasized by Edward Wilson who claimed that: The key to the exchange between them [arts and science] is not hybridisation, not some unpleasantly self-conscious form of scientific art or artistic science, but reinvigoration of interpretation with the knowledge of science and its proprietary sense of the future.12

Although William Whewell was first to discuss the concept of fusion of knowledge between the diverse branches of learning in The Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences in the 1840s, known as consilience, Wilson re-actualized the importance of such methodology in 1998.13 The strongest appeal in such methodology is in the prospect of developing a theoretical framework through historical documents that provides context for empirical research and fieldwork in both Iceland and the Faeroes. Moreover, as there are no primary sources, except the thirteenth century Sheep letter and the Faraeyinga saga, for the period under study relating to the Faeroes, such methods are expected to fill the gap in the archipelago’s history. Wilson noted that since ‘human action comprises events of physical causation, why should the social sciences and humanities be impervious to consilience with the natural sciences?’14 Indeed, such a method seemed likely to be more effective in the understanding and explanation of historical processes, for it allows a shift from a theoretical methodology to an empirical one. As already mentioned in the previous chapter, Udo Recker stated that 11 Bloch, The Historian’s Craft, p. 11. 12 Wilson, Consilience, The Unity of Knowledge. 13 Ibid, p. 6. 14 Ibid, p. 9.

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understanding of past economic activities depends principally on our ability to establish whether the environment and/or social structures serve as a basis for the development of economic patterns.15 It thus seems that an interdisciplinary methodology combining historical, zooarchaeological and soil evidence would allow the building of hypotheses about human adaptations to marginal environments and socio-economic developments and patterns from the ninth to the fourteenth century.

Historicism, Materialism, Functionalism and Behaviourism As one of the aims of this work is to identify economic exchanges and drivers related to Iceland and the Faeroes, it was essential to construct a methodology that embedded a greater study spectrum guided by four concepts known as historicism, materialism, functionalism and behaviourism. While these are mainly used in environmental archaeology, it seems, however, that they fall under Fernand Braudel’s umbrella theory of longue durée that identified two different paces of time. The heart of this theory is the postulation that economic changes move at a different speed from political changes and that economic changes are closely linked and tied to environmental factors and human adaptation to them. Regarding early medieval environmental history studies, the use of different fields enables the investigator to gain a better knowledge of the physical surroundings in order to appreciate people’s relationships with the natural environment. Above all, the geographic location of a settlement, regardless of its size, is closely connected with the choice to use the resources around it. Considering the site of a settlement in relation to surrounding resources certainly facilitates understanding of how the site’s settlers exploited them firstly for subsistence and then for mercantile purposes.16 On the interaction between human and environment, Lucien Febvre commented that: The problem of the influence of environment is not within the domain of a geographer pure and simple. The purely “geographical geographer” does not trouble himself about history, or is even disposed to absorb it in geography. The treatment of this complex problem needs a geographical historian, or a historical geographer, who is also more or less of a sociologist.17 15 Recker, ‘Economic Archaeology in the German Low Mountain Ranges’, p. 215. 16 Aston, Interpreting the landscape. Landscape archaeology and local history, p. 91. 17 Febvre, A Geographical Introduction to History, v.

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Here, Febvre offers an accurate and pioneering view of the very nature of environmental history. His emphasis on the ‘sociological’ side of the f ield is a key element for anyone seeking to understand past human behaviours and socio-economic developments. As noted by De Morgan, since ‘men are never absolutely free from the grip of their environment’18, integration of both environmental and social sciences provides ‘multiple layers’ – ‘visible and invisible’ – of investigation which ‘materialize’ the past through a multi-dimensional framework. Archaeology, geoarchaeology, and zooarchaeology provide evidence for the ‘visible’ strata, while anthropology and economic anthropology make available the ‘invisible’ strata. It would seem therefore that historical debates and approaches are not ‘parochial and uninformed by social and cultural theory’.19 Instead, historical research and particularly environmental history studies require an in-depth understanding and evaluation of the available materials. For the purpose of illustration and about the present thesis, exploitation of written records with the inclusion of human ecology, anthropology and economic anthropology provide the theoretical background to our understanding of the development and mechanism of socio-economic patterns based on renewable resources with special reference to fish trade. Geoarchaeology and zooarchaeology as empirical approaches give physical evidence of the settlers’ activities in terms of subsistence and non-subsistence economies. As David Shaw suggests, ‘within such a paradigm of diversity […] history can become a source of interdisciplinary help rather than a mere importer of methods and ideas’.20 The environmental perspective in such research restores Man to his natural world; from then on Man is perceived as an ‘intellectual’ entity that is a part of a whole. Furthermore, such an approach explains the ways that the natural world has imposed upon human society and vice-versa, and sciences remain essential to environmental historians’ paleo-landscape reconstructions, since they must first understand these geographical spaces, and what resources were available prior to human’s settlement and exploitation. Environmental history enables the researcher to develop theories and concepts suitable for their own particular approaches. However, the level of theoretical and empirical awareness within the individual fields becomes the primary concern. To avoid misinterpretation of the diverse resources exploited and referred to as environmental archives in this thesis, the author has engaged in fieldwork and laboratory analysis 18 De Morgan, Prehistoric Man (L’Évolution de l’Humanité), p. 19. 19 Ibid, p. 228. 20 Shaw, ‘The Return of Science’, p. 5.

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for the past three years. While it has been argued that historical knowledge is different from scientific knowledge since ‘historical knowledge does not accumulate in the way scientific knowledge does’, it remains that though not a scientist per se, the new skills gained through practical research and handling of empirical data led to cross-pollination through the inclusion of a greater spectrum of expertise. Indeed, historical debates and issues will be better addressed through a multi-disciplinary prism where a relationship between humans and their natural environments is central to the study. As Febvre commented, historians seeking to ‘disentangle all the threads, external and internal, of human conduct’ are better equipped to explore human-nature interactions.21 Contrary to written materials such as charters, deeds and public covenants, environmental data are free of political agenda, yet they are subject to the researcher’s interpretation. For instance, soils and bones collected from farm middens produce data inherent to the site in term of the inhabitants’ economic and dietary activities. Yet, on the other hand it could be argued that the researcher’s ‘unconscious’ selection of the material to be collected and of the location it should be retrieved from, bias, de facto, the results obtained. However, in defence of the retriever of these data, his/ her participation in archaeological fieldwork is generally collaborative, and responsibility towards exposed profiles belongs with the director of the fieldwork. Besides, each collaborator appointed in such a project should a) participate actively in the common research agenda and b) collect data for his/her own research. Above all, data collected tend to reflect the site’s history as much as possible. Integrated within an historical framework and used in correlation to written documents, one should be able to produce a thorough study of past socio-economic dynamics. The strongest appeal in such a method is in the challenging prospect of developing a theoretical framework through the few historical documents available that, nevertheless, provide context for empirical research and fieldwork in both Iceland and the Faeroes.

Economics and Anthropology Part of the present work focuses on the economic development of Iceland and the Faeroes and as such, it is essential to clarify the significance attached to the terms ‘economic’ and ‘economy’. Writing in 1918, the economist 21 Febvre, A Geographical Introduction to History, v.

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Isaac Loos claimed that economics search for and describe the rules, ethics, or laws that motivate human activity in pursuit of a living, whereas economy designates any activity that has for its objective the securing of a living. He also pointed out that both terms were often used interchangeably. Economic anthropology is based on three key paradigms: namely, culturalism, formalism, and substantivism. Culturalism, a model created by Stephen Gudman, argues that the central processes of making a livelihood are culturally created, and that the main concepts within culturalism are profit, money, and exchange. Formalism, as used by Raymond Firth, assumes that individuals’ preference may diverge from cultural goals and that individuals’ decisions are guided by their preferences in an environment constrained by culture. Substantivism’s approach was developed by Karl Polanyi who claimed that the term ‘economics’ has two sides: it either refers to the logic of rational action and decision making or it refers to the study of how humans make a living from their natural and social environment. Economic anthropology provides a sound basis in the understanding of the socio-economic mechanisms of past societies. In this respect, the work of George Dalton remains, to date, a fundamental study in economic anthropology, for he has researched extensively on markets and primitive money. In 1969, he methodically dissected the Theoretical issues in Economic Anthropology.22 This paper allows the reader to come to terms with primitive economic archetypes, the interaction between subsistence economy and centralised polity, chiefdom and primitive states. Colin Renfrew’s Approaches to Social Archaeology is a key text for anyone embarking on an exploration of past societies.23 While it focuses on social archaeology, the five approaches it develops are applicable to historical and environmental reconstructions – as in the case of the present research – and are: spatial, economic, authority, systems thinking and discontinuity and longterm change.24 With regards to the present work, the merging of these five approaches will aid in the differentiation between subsistence and non-subsistence economic activities, although it must be noted that both activities could be present on the same site, as discussed in chapter six. A subsistence fishery is established when fish were caught for consumption by the fisher, his household or the fisher’s chieftain without the involvement of a market, as opposed to a commercial fishery, in which workers’ catches are sold either directly to the consumer or through intermediaries. Hence, 22 Dalton, ‘Theoretical Issues in Economic Anthropology’. 23 Renfrew, Approaches to Social Archaeology. 24 Ibid, pp. 10-13.

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it seems that the spatial organisations of settlements should vary according to their economic destinations and involvement in commercial fishing. The social structure of those involved in fishing should also appear in the settlement patterns with a possibility of ranking between low, mid- and high-status settlements. From all this, it follows that to develop convincing hypotheses on the emergence of commercial fishing in Viking Age and early medieval Iceland, one has to consider historical research that offers a general analysis of medieval economic developments. Such analysis includes the development of fishing from the earliest historic period, trading customs in the Viking-Age, climate change during the Middle Ages and human settlement. Through relational analogy, which is based on intrinsic linkages between attributes, it is possible to build up theories of non-observed behaviour and activities by referral to observed behaviour and activities. The use of both social and environmental sciences will help articulate economic hypotheses that are developed in this thesis.

Environmental Archives David Shaw noted that until very recently, ‘in the study of history […] science has had particularly little relevance or appeal’.25 Indeed, few historians regard science as a useful tool for historical research. It will be shown in the following chapter that in the writing of an economic history of Iceland – and to a certain extent the Faeroes – the use of archives has led to conclusions that are challenged by ‘environmental’ archives. Geoarchaeology and Micromorphology Among all the various sciences that can enable the researcher to fulfil such a goal, archaeology is the first that usually comes to mind. While, for the great majority, archaeology consists of the excavation of graves, buildings, the recovery of artefacts, recording and drawing, it also involves other fields such as geoarchaeology which is a ‘sub-field’ using the techniques and subject matter of geography as well as other earth sciences, such as soil micromorphology also acknowledged as pedo-archaeology. In recent decades, collaboration between archaeologists and geoarchaeologists has increased, geo-archaeologists being concerned with site-formation processes and 25 Shaw, ‘The Return of Science’, p. 2.

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explanation of how cultural deposits play a key role in the interpretation of remains and structure. Embedded within geoarchaeology, micromorphology is the field of soil science which describes and interprets relict and fossil soils (also called cultural deposits) through semi-quantification of features, fabrics and components of undisturbed soils; this also allows the establishment of the relationships between soil and sediment features at the macroscale. Several authors, amongst them Vance Holliday, have acknowledged the importance of soils in the interpretation of archaeological sites; however, no theory with regards to micromorphological features has emerged from geoarchaeological and micromorphological studies.26 The lack of theorisation rests with the very nature of soil micromorphology, which is seen as an analytical tool rather than a discipline per se. Yet, micromorphology analysis and its interpretation rests on pedological theory in which soils and their properties reflect the environments (past and present) in which they are found. Indeed, micromorphology provides a whole set of methods that allow description from soil genesis to anthropogenic features and is used in natural sciences dealing with soil science like pedology, geoarchaeology, forestry, and agriculture management. In that respect, it seems to the present author that Professor Walter Kubïena, who ‘is widely regarded as the father figure’27 to soil micromorphology, himself considered soil micromorphology as a method to understand soil genesis and development rather than a discipline; he was a geographer by training and practice. For instance, in the foreword of his Micropedology published in 1938, Kubïena acknowledged the variety of soil micromorphology applications such as in ‘the fields of soil erosion, soil mapping, agricultural soil classification, tillage, engineering and road construction’.28 Writing on archaeology and micromorphology, D.A. Davidson and I.A. Simpson highlighted that micromorphological analysis stands with ‘interpretational difficulties’.29 However and in order to reduce such difficulties, interpretation should lie on systematic comparative observation between thin section samples, ethnographic evidence and experimentation that creates thin section features under controlled conditions.30 Yet, it appears that though such data should form a pre-requisite for a thorough interpretation 26 Holliday, ‘Soil Formation, Time and Archaeology’, Soils in Archaeology, Landscape Evolution and Human Occupation, p. 101. 27 Davidson and Simpson, ‘Archaeology and Micromorphology’, in Brothwell and Pollard (eds.), Handbook of Archaeological sciences, p. 167. 28 Kubïena, W.L., Micropedology, vii. 29 Ibid., p. 169. 30 Pr. Simpson, personal communication.

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of site formation processes including human economic behaviour, both ethnographic evidence and soil collections are not always available to soil scientists. Such lack of data is mostly due to either the absence of ethnographic studies related to the sites investigated from macro to micro scales, and to similar soil samples. Recently, a publication initiated by Georges Stoops, covering topics from genetic interpretation of micromorphological features to results of human activities and regoliths proves useful with interpretation of undisturbed soil samples, it remains, nonetheless, that interpretation rests with the researcher. It is an important tool, which enables the understanding of site formation process, whether through natural factors or anthropogenic features. It has to be noted that such cultural sediment analyses are usually carried out in order ‘to contribute to the understanding of practices and patterns of early land management’, and their use for determining sites’ involvement in commercial fishing will be coupled with zooarchaeological data.31 The interest in coupling such empirical data lies with the variety of fish and fish related features that can be traced in cultural sediment analyses and weighted against bone assemblages. For instance, there is the possibility of absolute crystallisation of fish bone that considerably transforms its physical aspect from a recognisable bone to an amorphous crystallised mass. However, as fish bone diagenetics has been documented, identification of fish related features would help in the detecting of fishing activity and possibly commercial fishing.32 As noted by Kevin Edwards, while micromorphology has been the object of controversial arguments, such analysis facilitates the understanding of how middens developed and at what rate.33 Although its eff iciency to participate in paleo-economic reconstructions may also be regarded as contentious, it allows us to grasp the settlers’ economic activities in terms of the ratio between agriculture and marine resource exploitation. Micromorphological analyses highlight different phases of activities through pedological and anthropogenic features and not only provide a context for the bone assemblages but also reinforce our understanding of the settlers’ use of landscape. Sampling of ‘on-site’ stratigraphy gives a timeline of events that is then integrated into a historical framework. 31 Simpson et al., ‘Soil Limitations to Agrarian Land Production in Premodern Iceland’, p. 424. 32 Karkanas and Goldberg, ‘Phosphatic Features’, in Stoops, Marcelino and Mees (eds.), in Interpretation of Micromorphological Features of Soils and Regoliths, pp. 521-541; Adderley et al.,‘Calcium-iron-phosphate features in archaeological sediments: characterization through microfocus’, pp. 1215-1224. 33 Edwards, ‘Overview, Environmental Reconstruction’, in Brothwell and Pollard (eds.), Archaeological Sciences, p. 105.

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Research for anthropogenic data during site formation process in soils and sediments provides an empirical framework in which to develop theoretical hypotheses concerning the development of socio-economic patterns in both Iceland and the Faeroes. Zooarchaeology Zooarchaeology, the study of animal remains from archaeological sites, is also utilized, as these remains may represent the food refuse of the society under examination, and the use of animals for farming, transportation, clothing, or pets. While Arge et al. warned that it is ‘impossible to convert zooarchaeological assemblages to economic bases’, animal remains are extremely useful for determining the type of diet, and therefore economy, developed by groups of humans.34 As Debbi Yee Cannon noted, fish remains have a role to play as an aid in the reconstruction of paleo-economies and paleo-ecology.35 However, Sarah Colley has warned that fish remains should be interpreted cautiously since processing and/or consumption might have happened on various geographical areas. Nevertheless, bone analyses used in correlation to soils and sediments will allow the exposure of fishing patterns that will help identify subsistence and non-subsistence economies.36 The size and skeletal elements of fish have been used to establish the difference between subsistence and non-subsistence strategies.37 It is widely accepted among experts from such varied fields as archaeology, anthropology and zooarchaeology that the size of f ish exploited at a subsistence level varied between 300 cm to 700 cm, for they dry too hard and therefore cannot be processed for trade as ‘dried fish’. Whereas only f ish in the range between 700 cm to 1100 cm (stockf ish window) were appropriate for commercialisation.38 The first step consists of collecting bone samples by CUNY (the City University New York zooarchaeological team) from Faeroese and Icelandic sites in order to classify animal remains 34 Arge et al., ‘Viking and Medieval Settlement in the Faeroes: People, Place and Environment’, p. 608. 35 Cannon, Marine Fish Osteology A Manual for Archaeologists, p. 3. 36 Colley ‘Site Formation and Archaeological Fish Remains. An Ethnohistorical Example from the Northern Isles, Scotland’, in Brinkhuizen and Clason (eds.), Fish and Archaeology. Studies in osteometry, taphonomy, seasonality and fishing methods, p. 34. 37 Perdikaris, From Chiefly Provisioning to State Capital ventures: The transition from Natural to Market Economy and the commercialization of cod fisheries in Medieval Arctic Norway. 38 McGovern et al., Coping with Hard Time in NW Iceland: Zooarchaeology, History and Landscape Archaeology at Finnbogastaðir in the eighteenth century, pp. 15-16.

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into species and to establish a list of the number of identif ied species (NISP). Such an assemblage permits identification of dietary patterns as well as differentiation between subsistence and non-subsistence strategies through the fish-size model mentioned above, and consequently the kind of economy which developed. Interpretation of the fish-bone assemblage or ichthyo-osteology collection plays a key role for, by identifying the origin of the specimen between coastal, riverine and deep-water species, it becomes possible to develop hypothetical economic patterns. For instance, it should be pointed out that the purpose behind exploitation of marine resources at coastal sites was not to use sea reserves as a ‘buffer against the uncertainties of agriculture’ as Kevin Smith claimed, but indeed the development of an economy based on f ish.39 Similarly, one specialist report has presented evidence that the selected coastal region at the site of Finnbogastaðir, Árneshreppur, North West Iceland offered access to both agricultural and marine resources. 40 Although there is an absence of archival material, there is continuity in the fishing activity from Settlement period to the modern era. It has been demonstrated that by the mid-nineteenth century, 27 farms in the Árnes vicinity lived on fishing and that by the twentieth century, the farms’ number increased to fifty because of the f ish export trade. The most important discovery lies at Árneshreppur, where it has been clearly established through radiocarbon dating that there was a dynamic exploitation of marine resources and possible contribution to commercial-scale fisheries in the thirteenth to fifteenth centuries. 41 It is obvious that zooarchaeology does have a role to play in the writing of environmental-economic history. It is particularly useful in the case of Iceland, where we know that, prior to the ninth century settlement, most of the land was pristine; radiocarbon dating of bones provide a chronology, whereas in places like the Faeroes, Viking settlement can be dated through identification of the so-called ‘fish horizon’ in both archaeological and soil stratigraphy.

39 Smith, ‘Landnám: the settlement of Iceland in archaeological and historical perspective’, p. 331. 40 McGovern et al., Coping with Hard Times in NW Iceland: Zooarchaeology, History and Landscape Archaeology at Finnbogastaðir in the eighteenth century. p. 3. 41 Ibid, p. 4.

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A Holistic Approach The methodology designed for the present research uses a variety of data, which must be coherently integrated in a narrative. This is not a micromorphological study of the emergence of fish trade supplemented by historical methodology, but a historical and environmental reconstruction of the development of commercial fishing. The introduction of archaeology and environmental sciences into an environmental historical research project offers a unique opportunity to produce a thorough study backed up by ‘hard’ evidence. While it has been recently claimed that ‘it is up to archaeology and environmental science to illuminate the early history of the cod trade and the critical transition from a local to a global product’, the interdisciplinary approach developed for this research can contribute to the answer. 42 The very nature of these disciplines offers a scope of methods of inquiry and analysis that are not dependent on historical documents only. Those data sets are particularly interesting for the writing of Icelandic history for they widen the historian’s view on the past through artefacts and remains. Though interdisciplinarity would shed light on both the Faeroese and Icelandic past, it seems that historians generally avoid using non-historical data. Environmental history offers an opportunity to bridge the gap between sciences and history since it expects historians to be more familiar with the sciences and make use of their approaches and methodologies to the study of past. The use of paleoenvironmental data, zooarchaeological and geoarchaeological evidence offers a more balanced view than the sole use of historical sources would do. Similarly, this enables the research to avoid the historiographical problem of both Norse/Norwegian perspectives and an Icelandic bias.

42 Perdikaris and McGovern ‘Viking Age Economics and the Origins of Commercial Cod fisheries in the North Atlantic’, p. 65.

IV Sagas and Archives On the basis of our so-called evidence, we have to piece together a coherent account of what must have happened […] We seek explanations for the meanings of historical episodes (but not only) when we are puzzled because something does not ‘fit’. We want a more coherent understanding […] We demand that historical accounts render the past intelligible – the more intelligible the better. This involves, as I suggested, fitting what we know about individual historical episodes into a coherent account, so that we are not puzzled by what we think was going on.1 Raymond Martin

Research, understanding and exploitation of documents are central to historical knowledge. While those documents can be seen as History, they can also be perceived as links connecting historians to the past to reconstruct History. Yet, it must be admitted that there exist few primary sources dealing with fish and marine resources for the countries that are under investigation. Shortage of such resources has been known to lead to historians’ disinterest in a subject since retrieval of what exists can be time-consuming and often equate with searching for a needle in a haystack. Moreover, this unavailability or invisibility seems to drive historians to overuse some better-known sources to the detriment of others. There is no articulated body of theory to determine what is pertinent in history, it is rather that the historian should draw on whatever he can find among all sorts of theories and common-sense beliefs which may be used to explicate the events in which he happens to be interested. By reviewing and evaluating primary sources and archives, it is possible to extract data that can be used to build up the literary theory on the exploitation of fish and the subsequent fish based economy developed by Iceland’s settlers and to a certain extent the Scandinavian colonies of the Faeroes Islands. Additionally, excerpts of sagas as well as various archives related to fishing are thematically presented to illustrate the role and place of fish in Icelandic narratives and laws. 1 Martin, ‘Objectivity and Meanings in Historical Studies: Towards a Post-analytic view’, History and Theory 32 (1993), pp. 29, 43, 44, 45.

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Part 1: Icelandic and Faeroese primary sources and the writing of history In the medieval period, writings could be classified as ‘romantic’ and ‘realist’. The majority of literature contemporary to the sagas was idealistic. This genre is best seen in the chanson de gestes are epic poems with a Christian and chivalrous inspiration. The realist approach, peculiar to the sagas, is based on understatement and is apparently objective in its narrative. Besides, the use of real place-names and the descriptions of landscape add to the realism and convince the audience of the truthfulness of the account. Those sagas deal with events in Iceland c. 930-1050, a period also known as the Saga Age. They are anonymous and according to Andersson, were written during the eleventh or twelfth century. They describe, with precision, commercial exchanges, wealthy Icelandic merchants who held leadership positions, trading journeys recounting the kind of ships used, the time spent abroad including wintering and the size of crews on board. While descriptions found in sagas may have been contemporaneous to the time of writing, it cannot be asserted that these events and activities did not take place earlier. It cannot be denied that aspects of Iceland’s economy are part of these narratives. As recently observed, ‘for historians, the Icelandic sagas are much more interesting as (historical) sources than as literature’.2 Nevertheless, in the writing of Icelandic history, the use of primary sources is a recurring problem not only because of the dearth of primary material but also because of the manner of its exploitation. Three different kinds of records can be identified: the ‘non-saga’ sources, narratives about Iceland’s settlement, and the sagas. The former encompasses law texts like Grágás I-II, and modern collections of record sources like Diplomatarium Islandicum and Regesta Norvegica. Landnámabók and Íslendingabók are two texts whose aims are to present the settlers of Iceland, Landnámabók, and to record the early history of Iceland, Íslendingabók. However, the most problematic of the sources are the Icelandic sagas. Their very nature, as well as the controversy regarding their origin and interpretation, is still debated. While the aim of this review is not philological analysis of the texts, it is, as noted, by Gísli Sigurðsson, ‘clear that awareness of the debate about the origins of medieval texts such as the Icelandic sagas is an essential prerequisite for saga criticism’.3 Concerning the Faeroes archipelago, the lack of written materials might give the impression that Icelandic materials, and 2 3

Rafnsson, ‘The Atlantic Islands’, p. 114. Sigurðsson, ‘Orality and Literacy in the Sagas of Icelanders’, p. 288.

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related materials dedicated to Iceland’s past, have been over-emphasised. Historical records concerning the Faeroes, as noted earlier, were burned during the 1531 fire in Nidaros, the seventeenth century fires on Tinganes, now part of Tórshavn, and the two fires in Copenhagen in 1728 and 1795, leaving basically only two medieval documents to deal with: the 1298 Sheep Letter, and Faraeyinga saga (written in the thirteenth century). The writing of the history of a society is generally based on the study of the written material of those societies, and so the understanding and analysis of these primary sources are the main goals of any historian. Although historians should be as neutral as possible in the treatment of primary sources, Keith Jenkins has suggested that ‘history remains inevitably a personal construct, a manifestation of the historian’s perspective as a ‘narrator’. This is particularly the case with the sagas. Sagas For centuries, the Icelandic sagas have fed the imagination of many people. In general, these sagas are acknowledged to be a mature form of literature that has its root in an age where all stories were orally transmitted. In fact, the supposed oral origin of the sagas is the cause of a major disagreement between the two schools of thought, ‘bookprose’ and ‘freeprose’ that emerged in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. The bookprose school claimed that no historical veracity was contained within the sagas and that they were pure fiction, while the freeprose school argued that historical facts were present in the sagas, which therefore were regarded as valuable historical sources. Furthermore, the freeprosists maintained that the sagas were already completely formed in the oral tradition prior to their writing. In an essay, Hrafnkatla, the Icelandic scholar Sigurður Nordal (1940) supported the bookprose theory and argued that the saga’s aim was not to relate an accurate story but to record a work of fiction. While Nordal was firmly convinced that the writer of the Hrafnkels saga drew on historical observations, he also argued that the author of the saga did not construct his narrative ‘on historical facts preserved by oral tradition’. 4 Paul Bibire notes that, although Nordal ‘tried to demonstrate, with some success, that Hrafnkels saga is unlikely to be historically accurate and so considered that the saga was fiction’ with regards to Egils saga Skalla-Grímssonar,

4 Friðriksson, Sagas and Popular Antiquarianism in Icelandic Archaeology p. 10.

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Nordal held that much of the content was genuine tradition’.5 Generally, it is indisputable that oral tradition predates literature and those facts and events were passed through generations by oral transmission, which ultimately reached those who saved them from oblivion by writing them down. If oral transmission and memory signified everlasting fragilities, moreover, it would be difficult to understand how societies without writing have sustained political, economic and cultural customs and fulfilments. On this issue, David Green observed that ‘any society with a sense of self-awareness has to store essential information about its past, and in an oral society this has to be done by memory rather than by writing, by professional remembrancers rather than by trained scribes’.6 Therefore, ‘self-awareness of the past’ may be associated with a historical consciousness that is a key component within the construct of any society. Although this common historical past may undergo variations regarding the change or loss of personal names during its oral transmission, it will nonetheless retain its context, social, ideological or political values. Véstein Ólason remarks that oral tradition in thirteenth-century Iceland ‘must still have existed about people and events in the tenth and early eleventh centuries’.7 While he does not fully acknowledge the historicity contained in sagas, he nonetheless recognised that, to a certain degree, they are ‘historical in origin’, 8 and this ‘historical origin’ is expressed through key events in Iceland’s history such as the Settlement of Iceland and the coming of Christianity. Yet, although it must be noted that Ólason’s work focuses on the Íslendingasögur – the Sagas of the Icelanders – it remains that sagas include historical events in their narratives. It can be said that sagas are an intellectual construct where authors projected their preoccupations and perception of the world on to a past for which there is little information. Chris Callow has observed that people living in a society with oral traditions, like Iceland until AD 1117-1118, tended to adjust their history with their present.9 Hans-Werner Goetz, who argued that ‘representing the past and linking it to the present’ was a key feature of medieval historiography, 5 Bibire, ‘On Reading the Icelandic Sagas: Approaches to Old Icelandic Texts’, in Ballin Smith Taylor and Williams (eds.), West Over Sea – Studies in Scandinavian Sea-Borne Expansion and Settlement before 1300, A Festchrift in Honour of Dr Barbara E. Crawford p. 11. 6 Green, ‘Orality and Reading: The State of research in Medieval Studies’, p. 272. 7 Ólason, Dialogues with the Viking Age, Narration and Representation in the Sagas of the Icelanders, p. 19. 8 Ólason, Dialogues with the Viking Age, Narration and Representation in the Sagas of the Icelanders, p. 19. 9 Callow, ‘Reconstructing the past in medieval Iceland’, pp. 14, 301.

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has commented this concept of time on.10 While Goetz’s study focused on written material, and so is irrelevant to the present discussion, it should be stressed that time and its recollection, generally by way of genealogy, is one of the features of oral tradition. The anthropologist and authority in oral tradition and transmission, Henri Moniot, has observed that an attribute of orality was the inventory of migrations, past settlements and genealogies.11 In this connection, it is worth noting that Landnámabók (Book of Settlement) is the written transference of such characteristics. Although Þorlak Vilmundarson has alleged that it ‘should not be taken as a reliable historical source’, for it looks as though several settlers were pure invention, made to explain certain place-names, generality should not be drawn too quickly. It appears that settlers mentioned in it are present in subsequent sources, as with Thorolf Mostur-Beard, Thorolf Twist-Foot, Thurid, Ketil Flatnose and Thorstein the Cod-Biter, who are in Eyrbyggja Saga.12 Additionally, Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards, translators of Eyrbyggja Saga, state that ’the narrative opens with the pagan anarchy of the Viking Age, but moves rapidly to an account of the settlement of Iceland and the beginnings of an organised society’.13 It seems therefore that Icelandic written material has retained some oral features. Peter Koch, who is a specialist in medieval literature as well as a linguist, has examined this phenomenon. As regards the conversion from orality to written material, Koch has described it as Verschriftung, which means the adaptation from ‘phonetic to graphic medium’.14 Einar Haugen pointed out that ‘every language maps the universe in its own way’ and it was thus essential to deliver a version that remained faithful to the original.15 On the use of sagas to uncover Iceland’s past economies, William Miller claims that ‘if early social and cultural history is to be written, literary sources will have to be used’ as ‘there are no plea roles or government records’.16 In 1991, a workshop held in Reykjavík, which aimed to look at the Icelandic sagas 10 Goetz, ‘The Concept of Time in the Historiography of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries’, in Althoff et al. (eds.), Medieval Concepts of the Past, Ritual, Memory, Historiography, p. 139. 11 Moniot, ‘L’histoire des peuples sans histoire’, in Le Goff and Nora (eds.), Faire de l’histoire, nouveaux problèmes, pp. 106-123. 12 Magnússon, Northern Sphinx: Iceland and the Icelanders from the Settlement to the Present, p. 29. 13 Eyrbyggja Saga, p. 11. 14 Koch, in Geary, ‘Oblivion between Orality and Textuality’, Medieval Concepts of the Past, Ritual, Memory, Historiography, p. 113. 15 Haugen, ‘On translating from the Scandinavian’, in Polomé (ed.), Old Norse Literature and Mythology, A Symposium, p. 8. 16 Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking, Feud, Law, and Society in Saga Iceland, pp. 45-46.

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through an interdisciplinary perspective, invited scholars from various backgrounds – ethnography, history, anthropology and literature – explored how these narratives can be used as ‘informative sources for medieval culture and society’.17 One of the issues discussed was twofold, the lack of contextualisation in the study of the sagas by Icelandic scholars who assessed the sagas through a national-native prospect and did not engage with comparative studies on literary genre outside Medieval Europe, and, as a consequence, the invisibility of Iceland in foreign anthropological studies on chiefdoms and tribes.18 For instance, anthropological works from Sahlins, who researched the chiefdoms and social systems of Pacific Islands, help to better grasp the social and political structure operating during the Icelandic Commonwealth that can be found in sagas; while anthropologists and historians, amongst them Miller and Durrenberger, stressed that numerous sagas’ narratives ‘parallel ethnographic descriptions from other parts of the world’.19 Approaching sagas through ethnographical and anthropological angles, one could extract valuable data about socioeconomic developments. For instance, Jón Haukur Ingimundarson states that Icelandic narratives – sagas and normative literature – should be included in research on Icelandic farming systems for they provide essential information concerning economic patterns. Ingimundarson’s results were that modern and Commonwealth farmers (especially those from the tenth century), managed their milking cattle, wool ewes and lambs in the same way.20 This would appear to demonstrate that historicity about economic behaviour is embedded in the sagas and that these sources can be used for the identification of past socio-economic patterns. Íslendinga sögur, The Sagas of the Icelanders In 1929, Knut Liestøl carried out the first methodical study on the origin of the Icelandic family Sagas.21 The focal point of his research was on the ‘historic content’ of those texts; the neutral approach he adopted allowed him to separate the fiction from the history by comparing diplomatic records to sagas. He first examined the themes, characters and forms contained in the sagas, then, by analysing the structure, rhetoric, orality, scenery, 17 Pálsson, From Sagas to Society, Comparative Approaches to Early Iceland. 18 Pálsson, From Sagas to Society, Comparative Approaches to Early Iceland, pp. 4-5 19 Pálsson, From Sagas to Society, Comparative Approaches to Early Iceland, pp. 6-11. 20 Ingimundarson, ‘Spinning goods and tales: market, subsistence and literary production’, in Pálsson (ed.), From Sagas to Society, Comparative Approaches to Early Iceland, pp. 221-222. 21 Andersson, The Problem of Icelandic Saga Origins, A Historical Survey, pp. 47-50.

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in conjunction with various issues expressed as conflicts, laws, family/ relationships and social duty, Liestøl was able to deconstruct them in order to detach imaginative creation from history and to conclude that ‘the family sagas have a historical basis; they were history from the beginning and were considered to be historical. But in their extant form, they contain much that is unhistorical […] where there is no reason to believe that something is unhistorical, there is reason to believe that it is historical’.22 The significance of Liestøl’s stance toward the sagas is that he did not position himself as a ‘bookprosist’ or a ‘freeprosist’. One should bear in mind that, while the sagas are deep-rooted in the oral tradition, they remain an intellectual construct where authors projected their preoccupations and perception of the world onto a past for which we have little information. Overall, it appears that both schools can be misleading and restrictive; yet the exploitation of these sources does not differ from the treatment of other records, where one’s interpretation often gets in the way. For Véstein Ólason, who studied the Sagas of Icelanders, Íslendingasögur, Icelanders nourished an abundant and diverse oral tradition, which included ‘minor popular forms of verse as well as stanzas’.23 Although from the ninth to the late twelfth centuries, oral tradition mixed truth and tales, by 1200 scribes were ‘already approaching the task of writing about historical events’. For example, the recollection of the early phases of the Norwegian civil war based on a witness’ account and the saga of King Sverrir Sigurðarson written by Karl Jónsson, abbot of Þingeyrar.24 While sagas’ topics are essentially family feuds and Norwegian kings’ biographies, there is a strong historiographical tradition which, while sceptical on the literal historicity of the sagas, does accept the accuracy of the socio-economic materials which they contain, as reflected in the work of William Miller and Torfi Tulinius.25 Because history is constructed from remainders – the sources – understanding and critical analysis of the written material is essential.26 Some historians allot a virtue of inherence to the text, being unaware of the conditions of its elaboration. Because the language of the sagas may constitute a screen as regards the ‘reality’, they transmit, it is essential to understand the context in which they were written. The mistake would be to attach a modern interpretation to a past 22 Andersson, The Problem of Icelandic Saga Origins, A Historical Survey, p. 48. 23 Ólason, Dialogues with the Viking Age, p. 43. 24 Ólason, Dialogues with the Viking Age, p. 49. 25 Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking; Feud, Laws And Society in Saga Iceland; Tulinius, personal communication. 26 Moniot, Didactique de l’Histoire, p. 49.

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reality; even though the historian can comprehend the social, cultural, religious and political context in which the text has been written, the text will still present a world depicted through its author’s own perception of his time. The motivating force behind the Icelandic family sagas must have been at least twofold: a will to keep alive past events and a wish to record as many old stories as possible. What interests us most here is the access to historicity that is contained in and passed on by the sagas, therefore, the historian needs to contextualise the family sagas to extract factual events from the source. Yet, the knowledge of socio-economic, political and religious developments in the North Atlantic remains a key feature in the revealing of such historicity. Although there is a poetic and moralising content in the sagas, it appears that, used in correlation with anthropological models, a reality emerges from them regarding the day-to-day life of the medieval Icelanders. Furthermore, the sagas give us a remarkable reading of the life, habits and mindset of the Icelanders in an epoch when very little is known about them. It seems that one can find in them supporting evidence of particular facts as regards commercial activities, trade and exchange. Landnámabók or Book of Settlement Among Iceland’s sources, Landnámabók is very valuable resource for anyone researching on Iceland, its settlements and settlers. The arrangement is rather simple and looks like a ‘primitive phonebook’: the settlers are listed according to where they settled – Iceland was geographically divided into four quarters. It also contains important information relating to the belief systems followed by some of the settlers, like Aud (Ketil’s daughter) who ‘had crosses erected there, for she was a devout Christian’ (p. 52). The different reasons why people moved to Iceland are other features of Landnámabók, with such information as that concerning Kveld-Ulf and Skalla Grím who ‘got a trading ship ready for a voyage with the idea of going to Iceland’ (p. 27), or a powerful woman called Thurid who ‘took possession of Bolungarvík’ (pp. 69-70). Yet, on several occasions, it is stated that settlers ‘bought’ their land, which indicates that they came when all the lands had been claimed by the f irst settlers (pp. 28, 33). This feature also shows that as with most medieval texts, Landnámabók had been augmented after the Settlement, and these adjuncts to the initial text were certainly useful as proof of ownership over the land. It also ascribes the new settlers and their descendants amongst the powerful families who settled Iceland in the ninth century.

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For instance and if one is to use sagas to retrace trade links, its description of the origins of settlers like Faxi who was a ‘Hebridean by origin’; 27 ‘The Blood-Brothers from Telemark’ might give a hint as to potential family ties and extended trade links with the Hebrides and Norway;28 their place of settlement, as in the case of Thorstein Torf i who ‘took possession of the entire Hlid, from Osfells up to Hvann River, and made his home at Forsvoll’; 29 and their activities, like for Bjorn, nick-named ‘Fur-Bjorn’ because he used to go trading to Novgorod’30 and Uni the Dane who ‘went to Iceland at the suggestion of King Harald Fine-Hair with the intention of conquering the land’.31 It seems that the f irst Landnámabók could be attributed to Are Thorgilsson the Learned in the early twelfth century with successive versions from the thirteenth to the fourteenth century.32 To date, there are various translations of Landnámabók, with that of Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards being that most used by academics. Pálsson and Edwards, whose translation is based on the version known as Sturlubók, which dates to c. 1275-80, note that several versions of it exist: Are’s Íslendingabók, Styrmisbók c. 1220, Melabók c. 1300-1310, Hauksbók c. 1300 (as noted in the above excerpt), Skarðárbók before 1636 and Þórdarbók, before 1670.33 The interest with Landnámabók lies in that it describes the social organisation of Icelandic society. At the top are all who ‘took possession’ of vast territories, such as Skalla Grím, then come those who were granted lands by earlier settlers, like Oleif Hjalti who received lands from Skalla Grím, and a third category consists of those freemen buying lands, such as Ore-Bjorn who bought land from Skalla Grím.34 Amongst those who received lands were certain ‘slaves’ who were freed and granted land, as with Erp Meldunsson who was freed by Aud and granted the Saudafeel lands in the west of Iceland.35 On several occasions, alliances between families through marriages add to the societal web. For instance, Aud the Deep-Minded (Ketil’s daughter) who settled in Dalir, Westf jords, married her son Thorstein to Thurid, sister of Helgi the Lean, who was one of the most powerful 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

Landnámabók, p. 17. Landnámabók, p. 18. Landnámabók, p. 111. Landnámabók, p. 81. Landnámabók, p. 114. Landnámabók, pp. 2-5. Landnámabók, p. 9. Landnámabók, pp. 28, 29, 36. Landnámabók, p. 53.

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landowners in the North Quarter of Iceland. Helgi’s nephew, Snœbjorn, settled in Vatnsf jörður. Likewise, one of Aud’s great-grandsons married the daughter of Erp Meldunsson.36 This sequence of kin bonds show that family and kinship ties stretched over vast areas and that they almost certainly played a role in the economic development of Iceland. Grágás and Íslendingabók When dealing with economic dynamics and socio-economic patterns, it is necessary to look at the political and legal frameworks in which the society under study had developed. In this context, it is worth noting that theories and schools of thought play a preponderant role in the understanding of the written materials. One of the recurrent issues regarding Iceland’s past lies in the various schools and interpretations proposed. Amongst the corpus of texts available and mentioned above, laws are quite significant, yet none is contemporary with the settlement period, c. 870-930. In the sense that there was no single ruler and no enforced authority prior to the creation in 930 of the Alþíng – general assembly – it has been posited that during those first 60 years, Iceland experienced a state akin to ‘ordered anarchy’.37 In the absence of written materials, any theory regarding Iceland’s economic patterns during that early period could be advanced. Yet, according to Sigurður Líndal, ‘ancient customs, which had existed from time immemorial by the reckoning of the wisest and most trustworthy men’ were recited by law-speakers.38 More to the point, Líndal emphasised that German scholars maintained that ‘rules of law were not to be interfered with by individual man; they were preserved in the minds of men and moulded customary conduct’.39 Since economic activities are generally regulated through commercial and civil laws, it would be judicious to consider not only the origin of Iceland’s laws but also the political context in which they were written or transmitted. On the writing of Icelandic laws, Are’s Íslendingabók reads:

36 Landnámabók, p. 54. 37 Solvason, Ordered Anarchy, State and Rent-Seeking: The Icelandic Commonwealth, 930-1262, notendur.hi.is. 38 Líndal, ‘Law and Legislation in the Icelandic Commonwealth’, Scandinavian Studies in Law 37 (1993) pp. 62-63. 39 Líndal, ‘Law and Legislation in the Icelandic Commonwealth’, Scandinavian Studies in Law 37 (1993), p. 62.

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It fyrsta sumar er Bergþór sagði lög upp, var nýamæli þat gørt, at lög vár skyldi skrifa á bók at Hafliða Mássonar of vetrinn eptir at sögu ok umráði þeirra Bergþórs ok annara spaka manna, þeirra er til þess váru teknir. It was the first summer that Bergþór spoke the law, that it was decided that the law should be written in a book at Hafliða Mássonar’s house in the winter after Bergþór had spoken and that the law was taken.

Writing in 1953, Lester Orfield argued that law was first publicly recited in AD 930 at the first Alþíng and that ‘it seems possible that the system of public recital of the law was copied from an earlier similar system in Sweden’. 40 Reference to such practice in Sweden is made by Snorre in his Ólafs saga ins helga ‘over every law district there is a lawman […] what he utters shall be law’. 41 Similarly, while the laws of Iceland are conserved in two manuscripts, they were transmitted orally until their written transcriptions from the late thirteenth century. Since Iceland was settled in c. 870, one must accept that not only might early laws have been altered through the ages to fit their period and people’s expectations, but also that there is a strong possibility that important facts with regards to the first two centuries after Iceland’s settlement may have been lost. Are’s Íslendingabók is an important source about Iceland’s settlement in both economic and political terms. While some scholars have declared that Libellus is the first treatise written in the vernacular, the title itself disproves such a claim. A vernacular treatise would have had a vernacular title not a Latin one. It seems therefore that Are wrote it in Latin for his patrons, the bishops Þórlak and Ketil, and that it was translated afterwards either by himself or a cleric. Are’s descriptions of Iceland’s settlement and Harald’s taxation would indicate that the Norwegian king to a certain extent controlled both the settlement and journeys to and from Norway: En þá varð fær manna mikil mioc út hingat úr Norvege, til þess unz conungrenn Haralldr bannaðe, af þvi at hónom þótte land-auðn nema. Þá sættosc þeir á þat, at hverr maðr scylde gialda conunge fimm aura, sa es eige være fra því skiliðr, oc þaðan fóere hingat. En þat es sagt at Haralldr vaere Ixx vetra konungr oc yrðe ættroeðr. Þau hafa upphaof vereð at gialde þvi es nu es kallað land-aurar. En þar gallzc stundom meira, en stundom minna ; unz Oláfr enn Digre goerðe scýrt at hverr maðr scyllde 40 Orfield, The Growth of Scandinavian Law, p. 91. 41 Sturlasson, ‘The History of St Olav’ (Ólafs saga ins helga), Heimskringla, p. 282.

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giallda conunge halfa mork sa es foére á miðle Norvegs ok Íslannz, nema conor, eða þeir menn es hann næme fra. Sva sagðe Þórkell oss Gellis sun.42 Then there came a great journey of men going out hither from Norway until Harald the king forbade it, then they settled this that they would not be dispensed and should pay the king five ounces. And that was said when Haraldr was king seventy winters and . That this is now called ‘land-aurar’. And that was sometimes more, sometimes less; until Olaf the Stout made clear that each man who is journeying between Norway and Iceland should pay the king half a mark, but not these men he exempted from. That was Gellis son of Þórkell who told us.

However, this excerpt does not prove that those settling in Iceland had to pay a tax to the Norwegian crown. Yet, payment of such tax might indicate that the kings may have regarded the Icelanders as their subjects (Per Norseng, personal communication). To push further, it could be claimed that through the payment of taxes, an economic link between Norway and Iceland was created, opening the path to economic-political ties between the two countries, as will be highlighted below. From all the records and narratives dealing with Iceland’s past, Grágás (law code) remains the most exploited source. Grágás is considered as being the first written code used by Icelanders: all predating laws were orally transmitted by the Lawspeaker, and integrated later to Grágás. Gudmund Sandvik and Jón Viðar Sigurðsson note that, until recently, the oral origin of Grágás was not in doubt, but recent studies have shown that elements of twelfth and thirteenth centuries European Laws are discernible in Grágás. 43 Since the opening section of the codex is on the Christian Laws, it might be argued that this part of it was written by literate clergymen after the full conversion of Norway, and consequently post-dates the ‘civil’ parts of it. Basing their claim on Are’s account in Íslendingabók, they state that ‘new nationwide laws were created before the ‘Free State’ period [and that] society was itself established at the Alþíng c. 930’. 44 Yet, it must be noted that Grágás is not contemporary to the Settlement of Iceland or the first centuries afterwards. The decision to write down laws was made in 42 Are, Íslendingabók, p. 289. 43 Sandvik and Sigurðsson, ‘Laws’, in McTurk (ed.), A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture, p. 226. 44 Sandvik and Sigurðsson, ‘Laws’, in McTurk (ed.), A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture, p. 224.

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the 1117 Alþíng, but the Christian Laws Section, which forms the first part of Grágás, was compiled between 1122 and 1133. Legislation on standard measures, fast days and feasts was written down between 1195 and 1200; it can be assumed that fish-related regulations were also promulgated during the same period since meat was forbidden during the 185 fast days; only ‘white’ food was allowed which consisted of milk, dairy products, eggs and aquatic resources. Moreover, those Icelandic texts were augmented during the thirteenth century. In the saga of Laurence, bishop of Hólar, it is noted that Norwegian Law, Járniða, came into Iceland in 1271, 45 and that a new code was brought to Iceland in 127846, the last text, Jonsbök, being introduced in 1281. The Christian Laws section regulated all affairs regarding the Church, such as the bishops’ and priests’ life and duties, church taxes and method of payment, building maintenance, birth declarations and baptism, Feast of Dedication, and so forth. Legislation also dealt with church-farms, which were owned by landlords and rented to lay tenants. Both men had the responsibility for the maintenance of the church itself, while the ‘training’ of teenagers to priesthood was the landowner’s sole responsibility. 47 As elsewhere in the Christian world, work was not allowed on Sundays, yet a close reading of the Christian Laws provides a different picture. All activities related to farming, travelling and carrying goods as well as trading were authorised, but more relevant to the present discussion, was that fishing was permitted not only on Sundays but also during feast days, as will be discussed below. Church & Public Records: Diplomatarium Islandicum Diplomatarium Islandicum consists of eleven volumes forming the anthology that were assembled by Jón Sigurðsson and Jón Þorkelsson in the nineteenth and early twentieth century, and is a ‘modern’ collection of ‘Skrár, brèf og skjöl’ (parchments, church deeds and public covenants). They have been subject to re-copy, re-editing with language corrections and translating from Old Icelandic to modern Icelandic by the publishers. In his study of medieval Iceland, Byock only briefly mentioned Diplomatarium Islandicum and claimed that it was only ‘slightly more helpful for the early period’ than other primary sources (diplomatic texts, annals and church

45 Haflidason, The Life of Laurence Bishop of Hólar in Iceland, p. 5. 46 Haflidason, The Life of Laurence Bishop of Hólar in Iceland, p. 8. 47 Grágás, Christian Laws Section, pp. 23-34.

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writings). 48 His observation is accurate, since most of the charters included in this collection are posterior to the earliest period under study that is from the ninth to the thirteenth century. It seems, therefore, that one is confronted with a twofold problem: first, it will bring no information for the earliest period; second, it would seem that all the documents have been re-worked, in one way or another, by modern translators. The fact that they have not been used previously as sources to decipher economic activity about fishing does not mean that there might not be useful data in them relating to those subjects to be exploited. Although it is a ‘modern’ assemblage and all the documents inserted in the collection are copies of copies, those records remain, nonetheless, indispensable for the study of the medieval North Atlantic World. The way the collection is arranged is unusual. Before each charter or patent letters, the publisher notes the source of the copy and where other copies of the document are located; hence, each ‘primary’ record can be examined against successive copies. However, and as noted previously, on occasion, errors occurred during the transcription. Concerning medieval vernacular language (as opposed to Latin that was not spoken and mainly the formal written language of the clerics), scribes tended to write as they spoke with more than one orthography per word. The construction of sentences, adjunctions and omissions were also left to the scribe; the more damageable being certainly that medieval charters have been copied with ‘modern’ terms as did, for instance, Arne Magnusson with his translation of Are’s Libellus. Again, it is not to say that modern authors changed both phraseology and words to manipulate data, but more because old terminologies were no longer in use and had no meaning for the modern reader. While all the records presented in Diplomatarium Islandicum (as in Diplomatarium Norvegicum and Diplomatarium Danicum) are effectively copies, the details with regards to their place of origin and archives tend to show that the publishers’ intent was not to manipulate texts but to provide readers and researchers with a comprehensive collection. The first document in Icelandic is an agreement between the kings of Norway and the Icelanders as discussed above. It is worth noting that while the starting date of Diplomatarium Islandicum is 835, prior to 1022 all the records within it are concerned with the papacy and the ‘Church of Hamburg’. Starting the collection with a history of the archbishopric of Hamburg, as well as displaying part of the papacy’s correspondence with either Hamburg or Nidaros, is a way to set Iceland into a Catholic framework in a sort of Christian common legacy. It is certainly also a manner of 48 Byock, Medieval Iceland: Society, Sagas and Power, p. 19.

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wiping away the pagan past of Iceland’s settlers. Although some settlers were Christians, most of them were heathen. These pagan chieftains built temples on their farmstead and were generally priests, holding de facto both spiritual and temporal powers. As already noted in the previous chapter, when Christianity was adopted in c. 1000, the majority of these paganchieftain-priests became Christian priests or passed that privilege to their sons. In that connection, it is tempting to understand the Christianisation of Icelanders as a way of integrating a Catholic Europe and to expand their trading networks with Europe.

Part 2: Reading the sources thematically Exploiting Sea and Rivers The Saga of the People of Laxardal is particularly interesting for it covers the decades that witnessed the ‘disappearance’ of the Icelandic Free State and the Norwegian take-over. It starts with a summary of the political events that happened in Norway and the refusal of Ketil Flat-Nose, amongst others, to submit to the authority of King Harald Fair-hair. 49 It then speaks of the meeting between Ketil and his sons who decided to go to Iceland for ‘there was enough good land available without having to pay for it’ and that ‘there were plenty of beached whales and salmon fishing and food fishing every season’.50 The fact that Ketil refused to ‘spend his old age in that fishing camp’, points out that Iceland’s main resource was well known and already commercially exploited. Besides, this statement would indicate that for some settlers fishing was the main activity above farming. Ketil’s sons’ settlements in Iceland were carefully chosen with access to both mountain and river, with ‘short distance between mountain and sea’, they had protected natural harbour and landing places. These settlers are also recalled in Landnámabók, which confirmed that Ketil had been Harald’s kinsman and reconquered the Hebrides for his king, became chieftain over them and refused to pay tribute to the Norwegian king; this led to the confiscation of his possessions in Norway and he fled to Iceland.51 Another important family member is the daughter of Ketil, Aud the Deep-Minded, who had married Olaf the White, a viking warlord (here the word viking is 49 The Saga of the People of Laxardal, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 276. 50 The Saga of the People of Laxardal, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 277. 51 Landnámabók, pp. 22-23, 44.

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used in the truest sense i.e. living from raiding) ruling over Dublin and its surrounding area. She arranged an alliance between Alof, grand-daughter of Ketil, and a Faeroese chieftain, from which the Gotuskeggi clan are descended; in Orkney, she married Groa, another of Ketil’s grand-daughters, to a probable chieftain, although his name is not mentioned.52 In Iceland, Aud settled Dalir in Breiðafjord, in the west of Iceland, which is a particularly attractive area, for it is at the crossroads of the northern spawning grounds for cod and the migration road of sexually mature cod. The Bjarney Islands, in Breiðafjord bay, are clearly identified as being ‘rich in supplies of food’, with fishing camps. The inhabitants of the area, some entering commercial agreements such as the hiring of a boat paid by a share of the catch conducted summer fishing.53 This, of course, makes this region ideal for developing fishing activity on a commercial scale. Salmon rivers were important too and generated income. For instance, Olaf, who was a chieftain and lived at Hoskuldsstaði, bought, for three marks of silver, prime pastures to rear sheep and livestock, but also seal hunting and salmon fishing rights, the narrator highlighting that these lands and benefits were more valuable than the price paid.54 This, again, shows that Icelanders diversified their activity and confirms the dual nature of the economy. As early as Landnám, settlers’ claims over vast land areas included sea and rivers, which were perceived as a continuation of the land. Tenants could also exploit aquatic resources through ‘lawful tenancy agreement’ with access to fishing grounds – marine or riverine – being by way of the land, hence rights of fishing attached to the lands too: ‘if fishing rights have gone with the lands, then unless they have been excluded, those catching rights belong to the tenant’.55 In some cases, landowners kept riverine exploitation for themselves or their relatives. About sea rights applicable to both owners and tenants, though a legal distance from the shore had been established, a proper evaluation remains difficult: ‘[…] beyond the range at which an unsplayed fish can been seen on a boat’s side […] that fish has to be visible on a boat’s landward side, seen from the shore on the line where the tide goes out farthest’.56

52 53 54 55 56

Landnámabók, p. 51. The saga of the People of Laxardal, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 279. The saga of the People of Laxardal, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 291. The saga of the People of Laxardal, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 315. Grágás, K§ 220. Grágás, K§ 211.

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The Icelandic text specifies that the fish must be a cod that when splayed is ‘an ell wide across the brisket’ (an ell is a unit of measurement, approximating the length of a man’s arm from fingertip to nose) and that such a cod is called gildingr (of great value).57 The size precision indicates that such cod did correspond to the ‘commercial size window’ as will be discussed in the previous chapter. Although there is no explicit indication of both Iceland’s participation in the North Atlantic trade and development of specialised fishing at a commercial level, exploitation of marine resources and especially fish is clearly mentioned in church deeds and public covenants in all the volumes that constitute Diplomatarium Islandicum. For instance, a Church covenant over riparian fishing rights dating from 1140, states that salmon fishing in the Linn of Norðrá waterfall was to be done through the setting up of baskets across the Linn to catch salmon, and that three salmon were to be given to the priest of Stafholtskirkja.58 In addition to such rights to portions of catches, as discussed below, it appears that the Icelandic Church owned a large amount of rivers, which certainly contributed to its wealth. Written c. 1220-1240, Egil’s Saga is an anonymous family saga dealing with native Icelanders and offers a remarkable view of the Scandinavian world of the tenth and eleventh centuries. Although it is usually exploited for the specific events it recalls concerning Norway and Norway-Iceland links, there are many descriptions about economic activities directly relevant to the present research. With regards to economic activities, Egil seems a very good example of a chieftain extracting income from both land and sea. Described as an ‘industrious man’, he had four farms and a salmon fishery; one farm was inland where livestock were reared ‘free in the woodland’, Aftanes farm was coastal and served as a base for fishing, culling seals and gathering seabirds eggs’, the third farm being on the western part of Myrar, coastal with access to a salmon river.59 The last farm was located in the ‘mountain valleys pastures’ where cattle, and, essentially, sheep were reared all year round, for animals were ‘much better and fatter’.60 Within the family sagas, The Saga of the People of Vatnsdal, set in the north of Iceland, is a fine example of multiple ownerships of fishing rights and fishing ‘regulations’. It first informs where the best fishing grounds are and then expands on the rights themselves. Fishing was free to anyone 57 58 59 60

Grágás, K§ 211. DI, Vol.1, pp. 178-179. Egil’s Saga, The Sagas of Icelanders, pp. 48-49. Egil’s Saga, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 49.

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asking permission and was granted unless the owners of the land or his relatives ‘were present’; this is also noted in Landnámabók, which recounts a dispute between two families about riverine fishing rights ‘Then Sæmund sent Hrolleif to Ingimund the Old; Ingimund placed him down in Odds-ridge opposite Hof. He had the fishing in Vatnsdale river with Ingimund, on such terms that he was to quit the river when the men of Hof came to fish in it, but he would not quit it for the sons of Ingimund, so they fought about the river; this was told to Ingimund; he was then blind and he caused a boy to lead the horse whereon he rode into the river between them’.61 For instance, Landnámabók describes a river full of fish and of the subsequent creation of a riverine fishery by the owner of the land on each side of the river.62 Inland chieftains’ farms are usually associated with these waters, which can be interpreted as an indication of early riverine exploitation for either consumption and/or trade. Tenants could benefit from riverine exploitation as long as ‘fishing rights have gone with the land’ as expressed in Grágás.63 This would mean that owners could reserve fishing rights for themselves or their relatives. Diplomatarium Islandicum (DI) speaks of some church dowry with riverine rights attached to the endowment; it has to be noted that they were exempt from taxation. The Christianisation of Iceland in c. 1000 boosted exploitation of fish for commercial purpose. As mentioned above, the Christian Laws section of Grágás deals with fishing. For instance, about fishing on Sundays, a fifth of the catch and a fifth of slaughtered livestock were to be given away as a gift to those who certainly could not afford to buy fish and meat, since they are identified as those ‘not paying assembly attendance dues’.64 Such food gifts place fish and meat on the same level as both food and valuable which indicates that for medieval Icelanders fish not only played a role as a subsistence strategy but also as medium for cementing society. On the other hand, householders were forbidden to give ‘meals of fish’ on Saturdays, although they were required by law to give ‘three of his household’s evening meals’ to the needy.65 As with the diet during these feast and fast days, fish ‘of all kinds and whales’ were allowed, which shows that fish and marine resources were significant in the early medieval Icelandic diet. These regulations on fish are interpreted as signifying the economic value attached to 61 62 63 64 65

The Saga of the People of Vatnsdal, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 221. Landnámabók, p. 2. Landnámabók, p. 2. Grágás, p. 152. Grágás, pp. 39-48. Grágás, p. 46.

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this product. Moreover, fishing was also allowed during ‘Festivals’, although there were: fifteen days each year where men are not to fish more than […] the first, eighth and thirteenth days of Christmas, Easter Day, Ascension Day, Whitsunday, the four Mary days, All Saints’ Day, John the Baptist’s day, Peter and Paul day in the summer, on dedication days, and on Þorlákr’s day.66

Church-farms and monasteries owned vast areas comprising coastal trips for which they levied taxation. In 1150, a covenant between the tenants with regards to fishing rights set the limit of the fishing grounds attached to Breiðabólstað farm. This settlement is noted as a church-farm and the f ishing area lay within the farm boundary.67 This paralleled Nielsen’s description of Norwegian Church involvement in commercial fishing in northern Norway.68 Royal and ecclesiastical participation in commercial f ish operations is a recurring phenomenon throughout Europe, which shows that Iceland did not differ from contemporary mainland European states.69 Moreover, the case of ecclesiastical control over Icelandic fishing can be developed further: from 1140 as noted above, Church fishing rights over salmon rivers increased considerably. Overall, rivers were either fully owned or half-shared by chieftains and the Church. Salmon was caught in ‘running’ rivers or in ‘linns’ (pools) which were located under waterfalls. It appears then that the Church owned both sea and river catching rights, as with the Church of Mary, Mariu kirkia, in Viðey, which extracted income from both riparian and stranding rights. All this shows that the Icelandic Church was involved in the exploitation on fish and did play a role in the emergence of commercial fishing and the fact that fishing was regulated is interpreted as an indicator of commercial activity. Catching rights at sea regulated access to fishing grounds. All men were allowed to fish in ‘open grounds’ outside the net laying line without suffering penalty; free fishing grounds were delimited as follows, ‘the outermost net laying is where at low 66 Grágás, pp. 46-47. 67 DI, Vol. 1, pp. 201-203. 68 Nielsen, ‘Norwegian Fisheries, c. 1100-1850’in Starkey, Thór, and Heidbrink. (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, p. 84. 69 Amorim, ‘Portuguese Fisheries, c. 1100-1830’, in Starkey, Thór. and Heidbrink, (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, p. 280; Carmona and López Losa, ‘Spain’s Atlantic Coast Fisheries, c. 1100-1830’, in Starkey, D.J., Thór, J. Th. and Heidbrink, I. (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, p. 257; Robinson, ‘The Fisheries of Northwest Europe, c. 1100-1850’, in Starkey, Thór and Heidbrink (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, p. 127.

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tide a seal-net touches bottom at a depth of twenty meshes [5-6 inches each way] with the floats on the surface’.70 Catching rights expanded to privately owned land by allowing the owners to charge anyone catching birds or fish on their lands.71 Such regulations protected riparian owners and it enabled them to increase their income from rivers’ exploitation through fines. In 1200, dried fish is mentioned during a spring assembly known as vorþíng, held at Árness in Iceland’s Southern Quarter, where the commercial value of one hundred dried fish was given as one ounce of silver ‘hundrat fiska skarpra hlutr mannz uvaliðr er at atta aurum’.72 While this provides a ratio for fish to silver, the most important information concerns the freshness of the merchandise itself, since it was regulated that if the fish was not a yield of the day, then it could not be sold until it was fully dried at the homestead.73 It appears then that not only was dried cod traded as early as 1200 but that the commercial product had to fulf il certain edibility requirements. Furthermore, fish was tithed, as were nearly all foodstuffs. Tithes were allocated in the autumn for the year to come74 and it would seem that since foodstuffs were accepted as tithe, (preserved) fish was most probably a means of payment of those tithes collected for the needy. Fishermen and Those involved in Fishing For those whose family was not involved in the exploitation of marine resources, there remained the possibility of starting their own business by joining a group of fishermen and ‘hiring or borrowing from them what equipment was most needed’.75 The newly made fisherman had to work for a few years in order to reimburse his debt and build a capital to start a trading venture through investment in ‘cargo trips’ and ‘share in a ferry’.76 Ferries were most probably contemporary to Landnám, with numerous placenames recalling either ferries or the act of calling for a ferry as Kaldaðarnes as noted by Jóhannesson; the first mention of a ‘bank’ or landing place for

70 DI, Vol.1, p. 142. 71 DI, Vol.1, p. 140. 72 DI, Vol.1, p. 317. 73 DI, a hundrat fiska skarpa hlutr mannz uvaliðr er at atta aurum.atta aurar or the eight part of a mark or one ounce of silver. 74 Grágás, p. 363. 75 The Banded Men (Bandamanna saga), The Saga Library, I (London, 1891), p. 465. 76 The Banded Men (Bandamanna saga), The Saga Library, I (London, 1891), p. 466.

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ferries in Borgarfirði dates from c. 1100, while, in 1120, the use of a ferry-boat in Dýrafirði is noted.77 In the written sources, harpooners and whale hunters are well differentiated from fishermen, and Icelandic laws regulated their activities. For instance, harpooning a whale did not entitle the harpooner to all the meat and blubber: one-third of it belonged to the men salvaging it and two-thirds to the landowner where the whale had been stranded. If the harpoon was still in it then the harpooner was allowed a third, but only in that case.78 Therefore, it would seem that the harpoon was more important than the harpooner in claiming either meat or flensing rights. In the case of an unclaimed harpoon, the landowner of the flensing place had to care for the harpoon and flense the harpooner’s share on a half-share basis. Besides, if more than one harpoon were found on a whale, the harpooner whose shot killed the whale received the biggest share.79 In that respect, it has to be noted that fish was part of a ‘fisherman’s share unselected’ which means not graded or sorted.80 Moreover, 120 dried fish were not to be either sold or bought at ‘more than five ounce-units’; yet it seems that such valuation had been voted during a spring assembly rather than the general annual assembly.81 This would indicate that dried fish’s standard value shifted according to the season and the assembly. This standard value for dried fish appears for the spring assembly held at Árness as already mentioned. The fact that ‘fiska skarpa’, dried fish, is noted in such an official document, demonstrates that it was a trading staple exploited as a currency before the start of the late thirteenth century. In this connection, Gelsinger notes that in the early medieval period, the prices for skreið (dried fish) and vaðmál (woolen cloth) were currencies valued in relationship to silver.82 For instance, by c. 930, 15.33 fish were valued at one silver eyrir (representing 26.98g of pure silver), in 1186, the value had changed to 13.73 skreið for one silver eyrir, and to 12.26 skreið for one silver eyrir by c. 1300.83 This indicates that dried fish became a more valuable commodity with a rise in its value of 25%, over the course of three centuries.84

77 DI, Vol.1, pp. 167, 174. 78 Grágás, p. 335. 79 Grágás, p. 329. 80 Grágás, additions p. 431. 81 Grágás, additions p. 431. 82 Gelsinger, Icelandic Enterprise, pp. 185-190. 83 Gelsinger, Icelandic Enterprise, p. 189. 84 Gelsinger, Icelandic Enterprise, p. 188.

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Landnámabók recounts women and their participation in activities subordinated to fishing, as with Thurid the Sound Filler from Hålogaland in Norway who claimed vast lands around Bolungarvík and consequently sea and fishing grounds at the very end of the Vestfirðir peninsula. Landnámabók recalls that she ‘marked out the Kviar fishing grounds in Ísafjord Bay’ which indicates that she most probably had fishing and seafaring knowledge. Women, it should be noted, were actively engaged in the fishing industry, although they were banned from fishing itself. They processed fish, repaired nets, sewed sails and collected wood for building purposes (Sigrid Kaland, personal communication). This association of farms and fishing-grounds also confirms the ‘landmass-water’ continuity since each high status farm’s terrestrial boundaries were extended into the water.85 Furthermore, it has to be noted that from that date, Bolungarvík retained its place as a key centre for industrial fishing and as a market place. Traders and Commercial Partnerships The Banded Men saga describes how a man willing to become an overseas trader built his capital by working in a fishery for ‘three winters and three summers’. He then got involved in ‘cargo trips’ and became the sole owner of the ferry crossing between Miðfjord and Strandir (Westfjords). Lastly, he bought a share in an ocean-going ship, and traded abroad until he became so well off that he owned two knorrs.86 Traders and buying of ship share in order to launch a trading venture are also mentioned on several occasions in Egils saga Skallgrímssonar. There were Icelanders who were independent traders, with no partners and fully owning a ship, while other merchants ‘consorted’ with foreign nobles.87 Some willing to become traders but who had no money to buy goods were provided with goods on loan by wealthier investors.88 As for ships, some were owned by several partners; on one occasion, a woman willing to return to Norway owned half-share of an ocean-going vessel. It seems that this was common practice in Iceland; regulations were made that anyone purchasing a share received a percentage of the cargo as stipulated in Grágás. The Diplomatarium Islandicum’s first mention of kaupmen dates from c. 1100 during the first Alþíng. As mentioned above, these assemblies were 85 86 87 88

Grágás II, K§ 174, p. 101, K§ 208-214, pp. 140-146. The Banded Men, pp. 465-466. The Banded Men, p. 317. The Banded Men, p. 304.

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places where taxes were collected. In this connection, it is worth noting that Icelanders were tithed on any property they brought back to Iceland ‘in the first winter after his return in the summer’; if he was to leave the country with ‘property he takes with him’, he was not ‘to pay tithe on that here’.89 Although the article does not specify if they were traders, the fact that they were not taxed for the goods they were taking away and that it was left to them to pay taxes for the ‘property’ on their return, certainly encouraged Icelandic trade to enter overseas markets. On this subject, Régis Boyer stated that the settlers of Iceland were traders who discovered Iceland’s richness in terms of fishing, that they founded two major trading ports and that they were first class sailors, able to cross the Atlantic from Bergen to Reykjavik.90 Unfortunately, the author fails to name these ports, which leaves room for guesswork at least for one of them, Reykjavík certainly being the other. Still in Diplomatarium, mention is also made of a ‘kaupmaðr eða farmaðr’ (merchant or trader) called Auðunn, who acquired the right to trade at Lynn (Norfolk, England): […] hefði hann átt að vera í Lynn í kaupferðum […] frá hinum sama tíma sem eptirfylgjanda brèf, eða skömmu fyrir frá árunum 1200 til 1220.91 […] he had acquired the right to come to Lynn for a trading journey […] at the same time as another Icelandic merchant or trader or short before from the year 1200 to 1220.

Diplomatarium Islandicum’s (DI) editors informed the readers that ‘the grants were written in both English and Latin […] and kept in the Tower in the town of London and originated during King John’s reign’.92 Although the timescale is a bit vague, there is a charter presenting strong similarities and dealing with mercantile privileges in 1204 in Lynn, and Yarmouth, 1208: Et quicunque petierint civitatem illam cum mercatu suo, de quocunque loco sint, sive extranei sive alii, veniant morentur et recedant in salva

89 Grágás II, p. 227. 90 Boyer, Les Vikings, Histoire, Mythes, Dictionnaires, p. 299. 91 DI, Vol.1, p. 481. 92 DI, Vol.1, p. 481.

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pace mea, reddendo rectas consuetudines, et nemo eos injuste disturbet super hanc cartam nostrum.93 (And whosoever shall seek that city with his merchandise, whether foreigners or others, of whatever place they may be, they may come sojourn and depart in my safe peace, on paying the due customs, and none shall unjustly disturb them in defiance of this our charter).

Another document, that can be put into correlation with this charter and dated from August AD 1224, shows that King Henry III granted permission for Icelandic goods carried in vessels of unspecified origin and ships and fishing boats from a range of territories to enter Yarmouth: Rex bailliuis portus de Iernemuta salutem. Mandamus uobis quod omnes naues uenientes in portu Gernemuta cum mercandisis de Scottia et Norwegia et Islandia et Frislandia […] et de partibus illis orientabilibus sine inpedimento abire permittatis et similiter naues pescatorias de quacumque terra sint.94 To the King’s bailiff from the port of Yarmouth greetings. We order you that you permit all ship coming to the port of Yarmouth with merchandises from Scotland and Norway and Iceland and Frisia to market at Yarmouth […] to leave without hindrance and in like manner, all fishing vessels coming from whatever land.

While the nationalities of the ships transporting these goods are not mentioned, it shows, however, that Icelandic merchandise might sell abroad; it can also be said that Iceland took part in trade with eastern England, at least in the early thirteenth century. Exchanges between England and Norway of Icelandic goods and birds of prey are noted in both DI and Regesta Norvegica. In January 1224, mention is made of Norwegian merchants bringing to England six gyrfalcons and hawks from Iceland. Over the 1223-1224 winter, Hákon granted the capture of the said birds. It is worth noting that commerce of Icelandic birds of prey is recorded for the twelfth century. 93 British Borough Charters 1042-1216, p. 197. LYNN, 1204. Line i. After quicunque add mercatores. 3. After alii add qui de pace nostra fuerint vel de licentia nostra in terram nostram venerint. 4. After consuetudines add illius burgi. Omit et nemo to end. YARMOUTH, 1208. As Lynn. 94 DI, Vol.1, p. 481.

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Provisioning of Norwegian hawks and Icelandic gyrfalcons is first mentioned for the years 1169 and 1177, when Henry II of England commissioned Hamelin Dekanus, a merchant from Lincoln, to bring back the birds; there is no letter between Iceland and England acknowledging this, but it is referred in Norwegian documentation which might indicate that Norway exercised some authority over Iceland. While the first ‘commands’ were for one bird from each species, the figure increased to six by 1223-1224, and thirteen Icelandic birds by 1224-1225.95 This indicates that Icelandic goods were traded between Norway and England at least in the twelfth century; however, such a commercial deal does not speak for a ‘free’ Iceland. Indeed, the letter sent by Hákon to Henry III in 1224-1225, clearly shows that the Norwegian king sent his men to Iceland to capture the birds to be sent to England, although his men had to go over ‘the frozen ocean’. Yet, there remains the possibility that Icelanders permitted Norwegians to capture and export these birds in return for goods, especially flour, imported from Nidaros (discussed below); this privilege was granted to the Church by the Norwegian king Magnús Erlíngsson (1161-84). Although there is no precise date for this privilege, it must have been granted between 1163 (Regesta Norvegica) and 1174 (Diplomatarium Islandicum). In 1294, it seems that King Eiríkr Magnússonar’s law with regards to Icelandic fish was amended and that ‘not much fish from Iceland’ should be imported to Norway ‘so long as there is a bad season’. This last description can be interpreted as referring to poor climatic conditions or famine over that land (the text’s translation is open to debate for the Old Icelandic word ‘hallæri’ has both meanings: ‘Eigi vilium ver at mikil skreið flytiz heðan meðan hallæri er i landinu’ ).96 In 1320, a similar note is made for fish and butter, although merchants were allowed to take with them enough provisions including butter and fish for their travelling journey (‘skreid oc miol vilium vier ei flitiest meiri medan hallæri er j landino enn kaupmenn þurfa til matar sier).97 Icelandic traders and cargo were protected by law, which attests that Iceland had a class of merchants. Men were required by law to help to haul goods and launch ships, once a summer, and failing to do so led to prosecution by the district assembly.98 Traders jettisoning cargoes due to weather conditions and for the safety of their passengers, were compensated 95 96 97 98

DI, Vol. 10, pp. 1-3; Regesta Norvegica, b.1, nr 479. DI, Vol. 2, p. 287. DI, Vol. 2, p. 498. Grágás, p. 92.

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for the loss; yet, the law highlights that ‘the loss of what is jettisoned is to be shared equally by all even though it was owned by only a few’ forcing anyone on board to pay compensation.99 Trading partnerships were accompanied by gift-exchange, as expressed in Gisli Sursson saga, where the trading deal between the owner of a ship, Beard-Bjalf and Gisli and Vestein was concluded by the giving of a gift ‘worth more than the price of their share’ and a ‘fellowship’ was formed.100 Partners were engaged in European trading mainly with Denmark, Norway and England; partnerships could be terminated by one or both parties when the ‘goods’ of the other were no longer needed.101 The conclusive remark reads that after Vestein went to England and Gisli to Norway they travelled back to Iceland the next summer and ‘had thriven well in goods and honour’.102 Grágás notes that ‘members of the ship’s company’ had to assist the ship’s master and bring commodities ‘on board and ashore’, which would confirm that Icelandic seamen were organised in fellowships.103 This probably implies the de facto belonging to a fellowship lasting for the trading journeys rather than being part of a permanent brotherhood or guild, as was common practice in continental Europe. More to the point, it should be noted that a common practice in guilds and hanses (associations of German merchants, yet, not to be mistaken with the Hansa or Hanseatic League that would develop later), acquisitions were made in common and co-partners leased ships. Once a partnership was terminated, the leaver’s share of the ship was sold to the remaining trader, who then was free to either keep it for himself or sell it to a new partner. Commercial partnerships between Icelanders and foreigners were embedded within a legal framework and particularly with regards to inheritance. The surviving partner was able to dissolve the partnership and have the part valued in order to sell it unless his dead partner had heirs.104 By the same token, when two Icelanders were trading partners and if one of them died when both were abroad, the surviving associate had to bring his partner’s property to Iceland and deliver it to his heirs; he also had to pay the heirs according to the valuation made at the beginning of the trading journey. In the case of a cargo that had not been valued, the survivor only had to pay ‘a mark of six-ell ounce-units 99 Grágás, p. 92. 100 Gisli Sursson’s saga, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 508. 101 Gísla saga Súrssonar, Chapter 5. http://sagadb.org/files/pdf/gisla_saga_surssonar.is.pdf. 102 Gísla saga Súrssonar, Chapter 5. http://sagadb.org/files/pdf/gisla_saga_surssonar.is.pdf. 103 Grágás, p. 91. 104 Grágás, pp. 88-93.

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for each ounce’ instead of ‘half as many ounces of refined silver as he took while overseas’.105 The fact that traders could travel with ‘pack horses’ or go by boat on Saturdays ‘until the sun is shaft-high’106 and to trade on Sundays if they were ‘hard pressed’, not only shows that there was dynamic mercantile exchange but also that merchants represented a class for whom legislation had to be written. Moreover, trading on ships was highly regulated and Icelandic goods benefited from protection. For instance, Icelanders were not allowed to buy foreign goods from seafaring merchants ‘at ships’ and their prices were decided by ‘three men’ for each district.107 Ship and Cargo In respect of shipbuilding, while there are accounts stating that in the ninth century at least, Iceland was overgrown with ‘wood between fell and foreshore’, it would be naïve to believe that Icelanders could have built a fleet formed of fishing, ocean-going and ferry boats with such raw materials. Although Landnámabók ‘s claim has not much resonance today, it should be pointed out that such descriptions came from men used to wooded areas and that there existed pristine woodland. Recollection of an Irishman’s settlement in Botn in the Hvamm region – West Quarter – informs that ‘the wood was at that time so abundant there that he built from it a seagoing ship, and put in her cargo’.108 Steinholf the Short who ‘took possession of land from Klofastones east to Grjotvallarmull’ where ‘trees were growing everywhere in the broad valley’ is another example.109 Furthermore, the fact that the exploitation and ownership of woodland were both regulated confirms the existence of this resource, yet it must be highlighted that there is a debate concerning woodland cover at the time of settlement. A recent study has claimed that the potential vegetation and forest cover at Landnám seems to have represented c. 54 000 km² including forest cover of c. 8000 km².110 Other studies propose various estimations ranging from 28 000 km² to up to 40 000 km². Hubertus Preusser has suggested that the abundance of local names, which contain skog (forest), mörk (forest land or forest district), 105 Grágás, pp. 88-93. 106 Grágás, p. 43. 107 Grágás, p. 92. 108 Landnámabók, p. 31. 109 Landnámabók, p. 59. 110 Ólafsdóttir et al, ‘Simulating Icelandic Vegetation Cover During the Holocene Implications for Long-Term Land Degradation’, p. 4.

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and holt (wood) demonstrate that large wooded areas existed in the past. Other Icelandic words indicate the presence of woods or forests: skógarbraut (forest-path), skógarbrenna (forest-fire), skógarnef (out-skirt of a wood) – not an exhaustive list. Radiocarbon dates from early settlements in Iceland have shown presence of birch charcoal, birch wood and birch stake and larch wood (coniferous trees). This confirms the woodland cover of Iceland prior to Landnám and that the settlers used wood along with peat as fuel.111 Furthermore, he stresses that in the north of Iceland, east of Akureyri in the Skálfandi-Eyjafjördur Mountains, there are numerous ‘birch woods on the eastern margin of Fnjóskádalur, the largest one being Vaglaskógur, south of the Háls farm. As well as birches up to 10m in height, there are also willows, particularly in the more sparsely wooded areas’.112 Indeed, radiocarbon dates from early settlements in Iceland have shown the presence of birch charcoal, birch wood and birch stake and larch wood (perhaps from driftwood sources from North America), all being indicators of wooded areas and forest. In fact and to return to shipbuilding in Iceland, if Scandinavian ships were built of green wood – tougher than dry wood – the species most commonly found in Iceland did not correspond with building materials but rather resources for repair and fishing gear.113 Another way for Icelanders to build ships was to enter an agreement with Norway about timber supply. This agreement was then written in the Icelandic law book together with extended rights about ‘the use of waters and wood in Norway’.114 This statement shows that although water and wood were under common rights, the felling of trees was limited to the crown forest. The redactor of this proclamation seems to make a clear difference between ‘wood’ and ‘wood from king’s forest’. Perhaps the first one is identifying wood as fuel and the latter trees from which to build ships, houses and churches as mentioned in the treaty signed between Olaf and the Icelanders. More to the point, an entry covering the years 1016-1028 in the Regesta Norvegica stipulates that Icelanders in Norway had the same legal rights as the natives – ‘skal islendingene ha haulds rett i Norge’.115 The fact that they were described as ‘haulds’, higher yeoman, both 111 Preusser, The Landscape of Iceland: Types and Regions, p. 48. Smith, ‘Landnám: the settlement of Iceland in archaeological and historical perspective’, pp. 330-331. 112 Preusser, The Landscape of Iceland: Types and Regions, pp. 193-194. 113 Wood species used in shipbuilding were: hazel, birch, elm, willow, ash, hornbeam and maple as well as alder, spruce, pine, larch, oak and beech. Icelandic wood species were, and still are, the Northern or European White Birch (Betula pubescens), Willow (Salix phylicifolia), Rowan (Sorbus aucuparia), Aspen (Populus tremula) and Common Juniper (Juniperus communis). 114 Grágás, p. 211. 115 Regesta Norvegica, b.1, nr 26.

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in Norwegian and Icelandic records, reinforces the point that they visited Norway on a regular basis. Besides, Icelanders had to pay a toll equivalent to half a mark of silver – representing six trade-cloaks and six ells of homespun – for anchorage in a harbour or shore-moorings.116 On the contrary, by the late thirteenth century, Norwegians in Iceland did not have to pay for a landing-place; this imbalance in toll payments might indicate that in the late 1260s, Iceland had handed over to Norway some of its privileges as a free country and became more subjected to Norwegian rules. More to the point, anchorage or landing tolls in Iceland were cheaper than in Norway and amounted to ‘one ell of homespun or raw wool amounting to one sixth of a hank or a lamb’s fleece’.117 To return to the main issue about Icelandic ships, it remains that only three sea-going vessels have been found in excavated grave sites, which might indicate that Iceland had a very small fleet.118 From that, it has been extrapolated that they could not engage in overseas journeys or off-shore fishing. This in turn was used as a key element in the argument that Icelandic commercial fishing and overseas exports emerged in the late thirteenth century, with the use of Norwegian ships. Patricia Pires-Boulhosa, as noted above, suggested that Icelanders did actually take part in overseas trade though these journeys might have been ‘unrecorded’.119 As she stressed, the debate on whether Icelanders did possess sea-going ships or not, is still ‘most controversial’ for it seems directly linked with a form of political and/or economic dependency on Norway.120 This debate has its roots in a clause reading that ‘six sea-going ships are to come to the country [Norway] every year, except in case of impediment’. This excerpt is part of texts related to the Icelandic ‘submission’ classified as Gamli sáttmáli from 1262 (covenant, legal settlement) and recorded in Diplomatarium Islandicum c. 1490. Amongst opposite views to Pires-Boulhosa, Gelsinger asserts that ‘its inclusion in the submission agreements was the only way Icelanders could secure themselves’121 and Jóhannesson echoes Gelsinger by claiming that it was a limitation to the controlling power of the Norwegian king over Norwegian-Icelandic trade, especially with regard to the Norwegian king’s

116 Grágás, p. 91. 117 Grágás, p. 91. 118 Thór, ‘Icelandic Fisheries, c. 900-1900’, p. 326. 119 Pires Boulhosa, Icelanders and the Kings of Norway, Medieval Sagas and Legal Texts, Brill (Boston, 2005), pp. 124-129. 120 Pires Boulhosa, Icelanders and the Kings of Norway, Medieval Sagas and Legal Texts, p. 124. 121 Gelsinger, Icelandic Enterprise, pp. 178-179.

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imposition of bans on sailing to and from Iceland,122 while Ólsen argues that it was the imposition of monopolistic trade regulations over Icelandic trade. Again, it seems that the term ‘monopoly’ needs to be used with caution. Against this view, it can be argued that all the important men and women who settled Iceland came with their vessels, and there is no doubt that they looked after them since it was the sole method of transportation; most of these ships would have been available for commercial ventures. For instance, Egil saga recalls that Skallagrim and Kveldulf left Norway to settle in Iceland with ‘many fine ships and manned two large knorrs with thirty able men on each’.123 Furthermore, when ships came ashore, the first thing Icelanders did was to build a ‘shed’ to protect their ships, as expressed in Landnámabók.124 Later on, legislation on boat protection and landings were passed: ship’s masters were allowed to ‘wall round’ their ship with turf or stone and to roof the structure.125 They also had to pay the landowner of the landing-place nine ells a ship for the laying up of the cargo and gear and an ell of homespun or raw wool amounting to one sixth of a lamb’s fleece’ as a landing-toll.126 Yet these regulations seem to be restricted to ‘ocean-going ships’, possibly trading ships. With regards to those who manned these vessels, it appears that a legal framework was set up for ship masters and their ‘company’: householders were required to give them board or, in case of refusal, be fined three marks, a substantial amount of money.127 Letting of boats (fully equipped) was a solution for free men unable to invest in boat-share but wanting to start a trading venture. Agreements were made between the boat owner and the borrower and related to the sea area where the boat was used.128 Circumnavigation around the owner’s land and sea area up to three farms along the coast on the same side was allowed. While this covered considerable distances to catch fish, such navigation was confined to fjord fishing, hence limiting the catching capacity. This restriction was perhaps due to the boat itself, which was not designed for high sea sailing. For instance, maritime law’s regulations about safety measures on board indicate that ‘people and goods’ must not use more than the ‘cargospace’ which amounted in terms of a ship’s capacity to ‘three parts submerged 122 Jóhannesson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, ĺslendinga saga, pp. 335-336. 123 Egils saga, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 43. 124 Landnámabók, p. 12. 125 Grágás, p. 91; Johnson, Pioneers of Freedom, An Account of the Icelanders and the Icelandic Free State 874-1262, p. 232. 126 Grágás, p. 91. 127 Grágás, p. 91. 128 Grágás, pp. 86-88.

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and two above water-line’.129 Similarly, although the borrower could take on board as many men as he wished, he was forbidden to use the boat ‘to ferry cargoes on it’ except when allowed to by the district men. In addition, precautions had to be taken not to wreck the embarkation that was under the lender’s legal responsibility. These regulations facilitated access to boats and gear to anyone willing to exploit marine resources for both personal and mercantile purposes. The fact that permission to carry cargoes had to be secured is certainly an indicator that the ferrying activity was manned by ‘professionals’ belonging to a specific category within the labour force. It seems too that, occasionally, Icelandic chieftains were offered a ship as a gift from Norwegian kings.130 While few accounts of such gift exchanges exist and that generality cannot be drawn from exception, it cannot be overlooked as a factor that enabled Icelanders to build a ‘national’ fleet. The fact that the ship offered by Harald was of ‘ocean-going’ class testifies to relationships he maintained with his ‘höldr’. Egil Skallagrimsson, son of Egil, who as his father became a wealthy man was offered a ship by the English King Althelstan, gave him a ‘good merchant vessel and a cargo’ which enabled Egil to start his career as a trader.131 There is no description concerning the cargo, but it is noted that Egil imported a great quantity of Norwegian timber to Iceland.132 With regards to cargoes, economic exchanges between farmers and seamen were highly regulated as in the case of ship hauling. Ships’ masters were accustomed to call men, usually farmers living near the harbouring place, for ship hauling with the ships’ masters having the obligation to serve them two meals. When householders refused to take part in ship hauling or refused to send their servants to replace them, they were fined.133 Legislation concerning partnerships and ship share goes further and stipulates that in case of the killing of one of the partners, it belonged to the man who owned the ‘biggest share in the ship’ to sue the murderer. If shares were equal between the partners, it was the responsibility of the chieftain ‘who own[ed] the land on which they are living’ to sue for compensation.134 This, as mentioned earlier, also illustrates that land rights were extended to the sea, which was perceived as the continuity of the land. Buying of half-shares of trading ships is expressed in Gisli saga. A man, Bjalfi, who owned a 129 Grágás, p. 90. 130 Egil’s saga, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 213. 131 Egil’s saga, The Sagas of Icelanders, pp. 121, 129. 132 Egil’s saga, The Sagas of Icelanders, pp. 148, 150. 133 Grágás, p. 90. 134 Grágás, p. 90.

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trading-ship, sold a half-share to two brothers, Vestein and Gísli, who paid him with gifts that were ‘worth more’ than the share; they all sailed to the Danish market town of Viborg where they wintered.135 The next summer, Bjalfi and Gísli travelled to Norway for mercantile purposes, then home to Iceland, where they ended their trading partnerships. Icelanders and Norwegian kings The partnership that developed between Norway and Iceland from the settlement onwards, included fish, which entered Norway’s fish trade. As Icelanders had no currency of their own other than their fish, it remains possible that the initial penetration of Icelandic fish into Bergen’s market was through the payment of these taxes in the early eleventh century. This could explain why the Icelandic fish trade remained invisible in the written documents and why Iceland might be perceived as an absentee in both the economic expansion of the North Atlantic and in the development and growth of the fish-trade during the early medieval period. This is also valid for the Faeroes, which must have had similar contacts with Norway since Norwegians colonised the archipelago in c. 825. Their geographic location, both in terms of fishing grounds and stops for merchants and traders circumnavigating the North Atlantic, cannot be ignored and put them at the centre of the North Atlantic trade road. Since the sea currents move clockwise between Shetland and Iceland with the Faeroes at the centre, there exist few options to the navigators coming from the British Isles: they either pass by the Faeroes and then up north to Iceland or go through the Faeroes and follow the currents that take them on the west side of the archipelago towards the northwest to Greenland, Scotland or Ireland. Hence, the Faeroes were a focal point in the economic development of the North Atlantic. In 1015, King Olaf II Haraldsson and the Icelanders agreed a treaty, which is included in Ölafslög named after Olaf inn Helgi (reigned 1014-1030). It guaranteed that the Icelanders would benefit from the same laws of towns and harbours as Olaf’s Norwegian subjects. Moreover, he granted the Icelanders, and only them, the unique privilege of cutting down trees in royal forests exempt of royal tax, and to acquire timber for building ships, houses and churches. Grágás confirms that Norwegian timber was used for buildings and bridges in a clause relating to the position of builders in Iceland.136 Saga 135 The Saga of Gísli, pp. 9-10. 136 Grágás, p. 127.

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evidence also exists for this arrangement; The saga of the People of Vatnsdal tells of an Icelander, Ingimund, travelling to Norway in order to ‘collect building-wood for himself; while in Norway, he was welcome by King Harald and spent time at his court. Harald then granted him permission to cut the ‘choicest timber to be found’ from the King’s forests.137 Alternatively, the dearth of primary material pushed Patricia PiresBoulhosa to claim that whether or not these legal agreements ‘were given in the eleventh century by Olaf is a question which cannot be answered’.138 Contrary to what Boulhosa claimed, there are two entries for the year 1022, one titled ‘Disposition of King Olaf Haraldsson, the saint, about rights concerning Iceland and Norway’ with no transcription of the arrangements agreed and another one presented during the Alþíng of 1022, ‘Alþíng, final decision about Norwegian kings and north men or Norse men in Iceland’.139 It is worth noting that Bishop Isleifr renewed the first agreement twice, in 1057 and in 1083 by Bishop Gizur; there is a strong possibility that they were confirmation and reinforcement of the above-mentioned treaty: Sa er rèttr konongs or noregi a islande at sialf stefnt scal socom hans vera. oc at logom þar landz manna søkia. Log oc rètt scolo hans menn þar hafa. slícan sem landz menn. Arf scal taca a islande frænde eða felagi. En ef þeir ero eigi til . þa scal biða þaðan erfingia.140 That is the claim of the king from Norway in Iceland that his issues shall be his summon and that they shall be settled according to the laws and dispositions they have in the country [Iceland]. That inheritance shall be taken for his kinsmen and fellows [góðr] in Iceland. And that shall be the same for their children from now on.

The author’s translation is similar to that of Maurer, Dennis, Foote and Perkins who translated the ‘decision’ as ‘His men shall enjoy the same laws and rights to personal compensation as the inhabitants’. It seems that this arrangement was addressed to both Norwegians and Icelanders who ‘belonged’ to the king’s household as his retainers. Therefore, only Icelanders being the king’s liege would de facto benefit from such an agreement; indeed, ‘frænde eða felagi’ which literally translated corresponds to ‘kinsmen and 137 The Saga of the People of Vatnsdal, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 213. 138 Pires Boulhosa, Icelanders and the Kings of Norway, pp. 44-45. 139 DI, Vol.1, p. 54. 140 DI, Vol.1, pp. 64-70.

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mate/fellow’, between liege men i.e. fellows/partners both Icelanders and/ or Norwegians, whereas the term ‘frænde’ applied to Norwegians only since there is a sense of kindred, family, ancestor attached to it. The term ‘inheritance’ means that the decision was to be applied to all ‘frænde eða felagi’ from the date of proclamation onwards. The fact that this agreement is not reproduced in the Flateýarbók Annálar might indicate that it was more of a formality than an initial political act and that those rights were certainly de facto in use at an earlier date. For instance, Auðun, who settled the Vestfirði – Westfjords of Iceland – and whose adventures are in Auðunar þáttr Vestfirðska, was well-known by both Norwegian and Danish kings, travelled to Rome before again joining the Norwegian king’s court and being offered valuable gifts by Harald ‘Enn þa er hann er albuenn mælltti konungr. ecki mun eg storum J þier gefa […]’141; and the story concludes that Audun travelled to Iceland where he settled in the Westfjords and became a respected chieftain: Hann for til Jslandz um sumarit og kom ut vesir j Fiordu […] Fra honum er komen god ætt […].142 He set for Iceland by the summer and came in the West Fjord […] From there he became a chieftain in the Quarter […].

Auðun’s wealth and protection were due to his acquaintances with both kings of Norway and Denmark. The fact that he became a góðr (wealthy and powerful chieftain) on his return from Norway might imply that some chieftains were the king’s liegemen although they had no official title such as jarl, as borne by Norwegian royal officials in all the other islands and dominions. It seems that those chieftains settling in Iceland by bonding their household to the Norwegian crown through acceptance of ‘common agreement’, gained privilege and protection. Yet, Auðun’s narrative cannot substantiate any claim that most Icelandic chieftains were the king’s lieges.

141 Auðunar þátutr vestfirska, The Tale of Audun from the Westfjords, The Sagas of Icelanders, pp. 717-722. Part of the saga is incorporated in Landnámabók. W.I. Miller wrote on the same story, Audun and the Polar Bear, Luck, Law, and Largesse in a Medieval Tale of Risky Business, Brill (Boston, 2008). 142 Auðunar þátutr vestfirska, The Tale of Audun from the Westfjords, The Sagas of Icelanders, pp. 717-722.

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The Faeroese, too, were not exempt from such an agreement. For instance, Heimskringla claims that powerful chieftains such as Gilli the Lawman, Leif Assurson, Toralv of Dímun and many other bonders’ sons came to Norway: […] put themselves in the king’s hands and came into his bodyguard, and all their followers swore oaths to King Olaf to keep in the Faeroes the law and land rights which he sets for them, and the tax-paying he decided.143

Although the original record has been lost, it is possible to give an approximate date to this Faeroes-Norwegian agreement. Snorri Sturlason notes that ‘Knutr the Mighty was at that time king over England and Denmark’ which gives a date between 1018 and 1035, but the saga-writer notes also that those payments were not regular.144 As for Iceland, even if the original decision was very short, the document of 1083 by ‘Bishop Gizur, his son Teits, Markús Skeggjasonar,145 and the people of Iceland’ contains twelve clauses detailing rights regarding trade, land taxes in Iceland and Norway, method of payment (silver and vaðmal), and land rights in both countries.146 It is worth noting that they were from the Westfjords, which tends to place the Westfjords’ chieftains in top position as ‘vassals’ of the Norwegian crown and for developing trade relationships with Norway. For instance, in the Saga of Gisli, Thorgrim and Thorkell, (both having settled in the Westfjords and thus considered as Icelanders), principal actors in the feud with Gisli and his friends, went to Norway and: […] soon fall in with the king [Harald Greycloak, reign 960-975] and present themselves to him and pay their respects. He received them well, and they joined his sworn retainers and won generous rewards and honours.147

This validates the fact that Icelandic nationals who swore allegiance to the Norwegian monarchs benefited from extended rights compared to other foreigners. The idea of attaching oneself to a Norwegian chieftain or the 143 Sturlasson, Heimskringla, p. 354. 144 Sturlasson, Heimskringla, p. 354. 145 The Lawspeaker, descendant of Hjalti Skeggjason who was sent with Gizur the White by King Olaf to compel the Icelanders to take up Christianity. 146 ‘Vottorð Gizurar biskups og Teits sonar hans, Markús Skeggjasonar og fleiri Islendínga, um rétt þann er Ólafr konúngr hinn helgi hafði veitt Islendíngum í Noregi’, DI, Vol.1, pp. 64-70. 147 Gisli Saga, chapter 5.

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king is also expressed in Viga-Glums saga when a Norwegian merchant proposed to a young Icelander who had travelled to Norway with him that he would introduce him to ‘a king or some other chieftain’.148 The earliest preserved fragments of the law codes are from the twelfth to thirteenth centuries (the only manuscript of the Gulaþing Lov is dated c. 1250), it can be argued that such allegiance led to a kind of commercial partnership or commonwealth between Norwegians and Icelanders.149 Examples of such partnerships can be found. On 24 March 1174, for example, during an assembly held at Nidaros, Magnús Erlíngsson (1162-1184), granted Iceland a privilege to be executed by the archbishop of Nidaros that each year a cargo loaded with thirty [three] lest of flour was sent to Iceland – ‘senti ecclesie unius navis vectigalia concedimus et xxx lest farine ad Islandiam transferendas […]’, thirty lest corresponding to more or less fifty four tons.150 Although, Nidaros supplied Iceland, it is essential to note that the 1174 agreement occurred during the Norwegian civil wars (1130-1240) between the Bagler (aristocracy, merchants and clergy) and the Birkebeiner (landless peasants) with regard to succession laws and social conditions. This confirmation, which appears in the ‘privilegium et iurmentum’ granted by Magnus in presence of Augustin, archbishop of Trondheim, is interpreted as a political gesture towards Magnus’ supporters, rather than a simple trade exchange. In 1194, Pope Celestin renewed Magnus’ instruction that the archbishop of Niðaros should provide flour to Iceland once a year: Celestinus episcopus seruus seruorum dei. Venerabili fratri Heirico nidrosiensi achiepiscopo […] Preterea vobis concedimus triginta mensuras farine que lest vocabulo appropriato dicuntur pro emendis vestibus ad opus ministrorum beati Olaui mittere in Islandiam illis presertim temporibus quibus id patrie pacietur ubertas. Et vectigalia que de una navi ab Islandia venienti annis singulis ecclesiæ Olaui debenture eidem auctoritate apostolica confirmamus.151 Celestin Venerable brother Heirico, archbishop of Nidaros. I confirm that thirty lest of flour, as agreed during Saint Olaf reign, is to be delivered to Iceland each year. 148 The Story of Viga-Glum, p. 47. 149 Jóhannesson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, Íslendinga Saga, pp. 109-112. 150 DI, Vol.1, pp. 201-204. 151 DI, Vol.1, pp. 201-204.

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The fact that such a delivery was set up during Olaf’s reign, together with both his agreement of 1022 and grant as discussed above, are amongst many facts speaking for an economic Commonwealth dating from the eleventh century. To date, and as already mentioned as no earlier records have been recovered, it is diff icult to claim that such a commonwealth emerged earlier. Yet and as demonstrated above, as f ish remained Iceland’s main natural resource that could be traded, it remains conceivable that the commonwealth was also based on fish trade and taxation from f ishing. In his 1186 speech, King Sverre Sigurðsson praised the merchants of Iceland because they brought to the country the goods it needed; 152 in 1191, crusaders in Bergen mentioned the presence of Icelandic merchants amongst other merchants, which shows that Iceland was involved in overseas trade prior to the thirteenth century.153 Egils saga Skallagrímssonar recalls that Ingimund was warmly welcomed by King Harald who granted him permission to ‘have whatever timber’ he wanted; then the king gave him the ‘f inest ship’, Stigandi, to carry all the timber. In Iceland, the place where she came to shore was called Stigandahrof, and Igimund was able to improve greatly his homestead.154 The story continues that he acquired for himself a goðord and authority; while there is no direct link made between his close relationship with the king and his wealth and ability to buy a charge of goðord, one cannot believe that there is no causality here. This review of the sagas and accessible archives shows that fish played a role in medieval Iceland from the earliest records onwards. If descriptions found in sagas are contemporaneous to the time of writing, it cannot be asserted that these events and activities did not take place earlier. These facts were part of the medieval Icelandic folklore long before the use of writing as a source of memory. They have left evidences that must be used by historian to reconstruct them in the present. The traces left by the past do not provide a full exposure of it. Indeed, historians use written sources not to establish discrete facts but as evidence for establishing the larger patterns that connect them.

152 Sverris saga, in Heimskringla, p. 193. 153 Wubs-Mrozewicz, ‘Fish, Stock and Barrel. Changes in the Stockf ish Trade in Northern Europe, c. 1360-1560’, in Sicking, L. and Abreu-Ferreira, D. (eds.), Beyond the Catch, Fisheries of the North Atlantic, The Norse Sea and the Baltic, 900-1850, p. 193. 154 Egil’s saga, The Sagas of Icelanders, pp. 212-213.

V

Modelling the Exploitation of Aquatic Resources and the Emergence of Commercial Fishing in Iceland and the Faeroes

Through the ages, fish has represented a source of food and wealth for many people. In Scandinavian countries, its exploitation is dated from prehistoric times onwards. It has been argued, for example, that in Iron Age Norway (500-1000 AD) ‘intensive fishing and the use of preserved fish’ played a key role in the development of ‘a multi-faceted political economy’ resulting in the ‘focus and scope of the activity as well as the nature of the controlling elements’.1 Indeed, the settlers inherited from past generations knowledge of the sea and its living creatures and as may be expected, Iceland and the Faeroes’ settlers possessed de facto this economic, social and cultural heritage which they imported into their new settlements. In that context and with regards to those developing an economy based on the exploitation of aquatic resources, their economic successes depend not only on the resilience of the resources but also on the ‘economic and biological rationality’ of those involved in such economies.2 The driven forces behind the rationality here has to be understood as either ‘survival or enabling success’ since it appears that ‘enabling success’ needs a human’s decision while survival belongs more to the life-cycle of non-human species. In any case, the survival and resilience of the renewable resources exploited are parameters that had to be taken into consideration in strategies for the extraction of surpluses from which to derive trade for internal and overseas markets, such as those in wider Europe. Understanding of Iceland and the Faeroes’ Norse settlements has been fuelled by the conventional narrative which has imposed its stricture on research: both the Faeroes and Iceland were colonized by Norse supposedly fleeing political conflicts and seeking lands for cultivation and livestock and it seems that part of the Norwegians who settled Iceland came from the south-west areas of Norway, Sogn and Agðir, which were known for their agrarian communities.3 1 Perdikaris, From Chiefly Provisioning to State Capital ventures: The transition from Natural to Market Economy and the commercialization of cod fisheries in Medieval Arctic Norway, p. 133. 2 Wilde et al., ‘Knowledge, Uncertainty and Behaviour’, p. 403. 3 Boyer, Les Vikings, Histoire, Mythe, Dictionnaire, p. 566.

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Norse settlement in the Faeroes is dated from 1270±60 BP (c. AD 820±5), using AMS techniques on terrestrial plant macrofossils with, in all probability, an earlier Irish community dating from the seventh century (as will be discussed below); Iceland was colonized by the Norse in c. 870±4, with again the possibility of a small Irish community pre-dating the Norse. 4 While it cannot be denied that political factors played a role as a driver of the Norwegian settlement of Iceland, the quest for new agricultural land perhaps more than the political issue, raises the question of these farmers’ ability to recognise land suitable for cultivation. Paleo-environmental data from both countries show that the combined activity of natural soil erosion together with the soil quality were definitively not ideal for agricultural and pastoral activities and this allows the proposal of a new hypothesis with regards to the emergence of commercial fishing in Iceland and the Faeroes. Data and models regarding both countries are integrated in the narrative rather than being presented separately for two reasons: a) the concepts proposed are common to Iceland and the Faeroes and b) both documentary and archaeological materials concerning the Faeroes are too scarce to be treated independently. Following the ‘longue durée’ approach, the causality between the exploitation of aquatic resources, settlement patterns and the development of cultural ‘sea-water’ scape(s) is thoroughly investigated since they all play a part in the economic activities developed by the Scandinavian settlers. The economic models and societal organisation presented in the present chapter are argued to be the basis of a fish-based economy developed by a segment of Iceland’s settlers. We previously explored laws and narratives to present the social and economic organisation which underpinned the development of a fish-based economy in Iceland. Before modelling any economic activities, it is essential to set the stage on which such a venture will take place. First, we need to understand the geographical and environmental contexts in which the newcomers settled. From this, a conceptual framework will be presented in respect of human adaptation, fitting these idiosyncrasies, before undertaking economic behaviour modelling based on the exploitation of aquatic resources and especially fish.

The Climate and Geography of Iceland Located in the North Atlantic, Iceland’s sub-Arctic and volcanic characteristics give the island its marginal status. Lying within the region that is 4 Boyer, Les Vikings, Histoire, Mythe, Dictionnaire, p. 566. Byock, Viking Age Iceland, p. 11.

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in-between the sub-polar and the cool temperate oceanic climate zones, Iceland’s climate belongs to the Group C Maritime Subarctic according to the Köppen-Geiger climate classification – using vegetation zoning – whose characteristics lie with an average temperature above 10 °C in their warmest months and coldest months averaged between -3 °C to -18 °C.5 Overall, Iceland’s climatic conditions are determined by the various sea and air currents meeting there – East Iceland Currents, the cold East Greenland, the Warm Irminger Current and a branch of the Gulf Stream together with polar and tropical air masses. Bearing in mind Iceland’s northerly position, the climate is, overall, mild and although temperature differences between seasons are not extreme, weather conditions remain unstable and frequent changes can occur daily. Annual average temperatures are higher in the south than in the north, especially winter temperatures; diurnal inland and coastal summer temperatures are usually identical with marked inland cooling during the night. In the north and Westfjords areas, temperatures average between 8 °C and 10 °C in July and between -2 °C to -4 °C in January with annual precipitation between 500 and 1000mm in the coastal zones of the Vestfirðir and 250-500 mm in the Mývatnssveit region (Map 1). Contemporary documentary evidence for climatic conditions for the earliest historical period (ninth-twelfth centuries) is non-existent, whereas for the later period (twelfth to early sixteenth centuries), data are scarce.6 Instead, paleo-climatic modellers propose climatic simulations of historical periods using proxy data such as dendrochronology, vegetation changes and ice core analysis, as well as records of the cultivation of both cereals and vines as used by Lamb in his climatic reconstruction.7 It appears that the northern hemisphere’s mean temperatures were warmer between c. 800 and 1300 with little ice coverage and drift ice and which certainly facilitated the Norse expansion in the North Atlantic; however, it has to be noted that there remains the issue of increased storminess as a result of changes to atmospheric pressure systems in warmer conditions and the subsequent difficulties with regards to fishing and navigation. Climatic conditions and changes during the medieval period are still debated. In 1999, Millar, C.I., and Woolfenden, W.B. concluded that the Medieval Climate 5 Köppen Climate Classification. 6 Ogilvie, ‘Climatic Changes in Iceland A.D. c. 865 to 1598’, pp. 233-251. 7 Jansen et al., ‘Palaeoclimate’, in Solomon et al. (eds.), Climate Change 2007: The Physical Science Basis. Contribution of Working Group I to the Fourth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change.

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Map 1 The Westfjords peninsula and Mývatnssveit

Anomaly (warmer and regionally dryer) in the Northern Hemisphere was followed from c. 1400 with a decline in temperature of around 2Cº below present average.8 Furthermore, ice is noted in Grágás in connection with whales yet it did not stop Icelanders sailing or whaling.9 It would seem that, overall, climatic deterioration began c. 1200 and lasted until the early twentieth century, although it is not to understand that such worsening conditions were continuous.10 For instance, from c. 1180 to 1210 and during the 1280s and 1290s colder periods occurred in Iceland which certainly affected fishing as will be discussed below.11 Environmental conditions of Iceland were – and still are – favourable to the aquatic world, land resources and space are less suited to human survival, with the indigenous terrestrial fauna consisting of sea birds and arctic fox for Iceland and only sea birds of the Faeroes. cannot provide for 8 Millar and Woolfenden, ‘The Role of Climate Change in Interpreting Historical Variability’, p. 1209. 9 Grágás, K§ 217. 10 Ólafsdóttir and Guðmundsson, ‘Holocene land degradation and climatic change in northeastern Iceland’, p. 164. 11 Ogilvie and Jónsdóttir, ‘Sea Ice, and Icelandic Fisheries in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries’, p. 386.

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human survival. The exploitable land surface represents around 10% of Iceland – 103 600 km² – of which 13 718 km² is used for agricultural purposes, 408 km² is made up of lakes and 150 km² is islands and skerries – mostly located on the coastal fringe of Iceland. Between 5% and 7% of the Faeroe Islands is exploitable – the total approximate surface for the eighteen islands forming the Faeroes archipelago represent 1400 km².12 While the settlers brought with them sheep, goats, cattle and pigs, the very nature of these islands forced them to turn to fishing to supplement their diet as exposed by the conventional narrative. Exploitation of land resources was limited by poor soil and climatic conditions, both of which hindered – and still limit – cereal growth and hay production. Pall Bergþorsson has remarked that ‘a temperature deviation of 1 ºC from the 1901-30 normal (3.2 ºC) will change the potential livestock carried by cultivated grassland in Iceland by some 30%.’13 All these limitations, added to the natural processes of environmental deterioration impaired the economic growth of the area’s inhabitants. Indeed, and as noted by Bergþorsson, climatic conditions such as cooling and the subsequent increase of sea-ice raised the possibility of two or more severe years in succession with dramatic consequences for both animal husbandry and humans.14 Furthermore, and typical to Iceland, although climatic conditions were warmer, the volcanic activity and the resulting ashes – the tephras – that fell may have had a dramatic effect on agrarian lands and grazing pastures. In respect of human impact, it seems self-evident that in such conditions the Norse colonisation would have had wide ranging effects on the settled landscapes and biota. For that very reason, it appears that exploitation of aquatic resources must have been more important than usually claimed. Additionally, oceanic currents meeting off the coast of Iceland create ideal conditions for marine life that are barely paralleled elsewhere in the northern hemisphere except in northern Norwegian waters.

The Climate and Geography of the Faeroes The Faeroes archipelago comprises eighteen islands separated by fjords and sounds with a land area of over 14 000 km². The maximum extent 12 Preusser, The Landscape of Iceland: Types and Regions, p. 64; Arge et al., ‘Viking and Medieval Settlement in the Faroes: People, Place and Environment’, p. 601. 13 Preusser, The Landscape of Iceland: Types and Regions, p. 117. 14 Bergthorsson, ‘Sensitivity of Icelandic Agriculture To Climatic Variations’, pp. 111-127.

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of the islands is 118km from north to south and 79km east to west. The archipelago is treeless and the cover vegetation has been described as Alpine with, however, a predominance of grass which is found from sea level up to the mountaintops. Heath vegetation is also common throughout the Faeroese islands.15 The geology of the islands is very distinct, with abrupt cliffs on the northern and western sides of the islands and smooth slopes on the eastern sides. With regards to weather conditions, the climate is influenced by the North Atlantic Current and the Azores anti-cyclone path with a variable wind – over 10m/s, coming from southwest and stronger on the exposed western islands – and humid climate.16 Temperature variation between January and August is 7 °C, with an average January temperature of 3.2 °C and 10.5 °C for August.17 Rainfall in the Faeroes is highly variable between islands with a maximum 1100 mm for the southern islands Suðuroy and Sandoy, whereas Borðoy and Stremoy in the north receive over 3000 mm.18 It is suggested that the geography of the archipelago played a role in the distribution of fishing, agricultural and pastoral zones within it, hence segmentation of the population, although this is certainly less visible than in Iceland. For instance, a series of irregular radiocarbon dates from pollen range from 945 BC to 700 AD, with an anthropogenic element dated c. 500700 AD given dates for primary cereal cultivation – which clearly predates the Norse colonisation of the archipelago in about 825 AD and the Landnám tephra of 870 AD in Iceland.19 The two ocean currents – the North Atlantic Current (NAC) and the East Icelandic Current (EIC) – play a key role with regards to circumnavigation of the Faeroes. As shown in the Map 2, the NAC circulates clockwise forcing navigation to follow that path. Furthermore, although the EIC is more northerly located than the NAC, its clockwise movement also forces navigation in a west-eastward motion.

15 Fosaa, ‘A Review of Plant Communities of the Faroe Islands’, pp. 41-54. 16 Hannon et al., ‘Climatic change and human settlement as drivers of late-Holocene vegetational change in the Faroe Islands’, p. 640. 17 Søgaard, ‘Climate and Weather’, in Guttesen (ed.), The Faroe Islands Topographic Atlas, Atlas of Denmark Series II, p. 26. 18 Haahr, ‘Climatic Data and Faroese Agriculture’, p. 89. Hannon et al., ‘Climatic change and human settlement’, rainfall precipitation data show some difference as for the northern islands of Stremoy and Esturoy 2 000-2 500 mm and 900 mm for the western islands, p. 640. 19 Edwards et al., ‘A Hypothesis-Based Approach to Landscape Change in Suðuroy, Faroe Islands’, p. 630; Jóhanse, ‘Cereal Cultivation in Mykines, Faroe Islands AD 600’, p. 96; Hannon et al., ‘Human Impact and Landscape Degradation on the Faroe Islands’, p. 132.

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Map 2 North Atlantic and East Icelandic currents

fishin.fo©

These patterns are fundamental not only for fish but also human transportation and fishing. Moreover, the strong tidal currents between the islands play a major role in both navigation and fishing. The geographic and biome characteristics of Iceland and the Faroes have earned the island their marginal status.20 Living in such an environment requires adaptability to the milieu and development of adequate economic strategies.

20 The term biome is employed for a major regional or global biotic community (grassland or desert) that is characterised by the dominant forms of plant life and the prevailing climate.

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Marginality and Rationality as a Conceptual Framework Understanding of humans’ perceptions of their environment as well as the dynamics between them is central for hypothesising on ‘homo economicus’ strategies within a definite environment such as an island. Here the homo economicus title means literally a human acting to obtain the highest possible well-being for himself given available information about opportunities, including exploitation of renewable resources, and other constraints. It should not be understood in the modern sense, i.e. as making rational decisions which augment benefits and reduce costs, which is relevant only to modern market economies. The size, location and ecology of Iceland and the Faeroes, added to their settlement by later Iron Age Norse, are factors that must be integrated when developing economic models which depart from the conventional narrative. The political attributes of insular societal organisations do not differ from other systems, although they are more dependent on outsiders for economic purposes. By the same token, economic exchanges between islands and the ‘rest of the world communities’ can be expressed in terms of Centre-Periphery Systems (CPS). In this context, Patrice Beck notes that both cultural and economic spaces, which interest us most, are not limited by natural or political boundaries although they might not be fully independent of them.21 Annie Renoux added another dimension to the CPS model, the ‘région’ which corresponds, in the present work, to the North Atlantic.22 Renoux’s concept is particularly interesting, and less restricting in terms of economic modelling, for it acknowledges not only major and secondary centres but also the idea that centres can be geographically offset and that the polarization is not always well marked, and that, f inally, the driving impetus given to the economy may come from the margins. 23 Therefore, within the CPS framework developed for the present thesis, the marginal attributes of Iceland and the Faeroes are understood in terms of their ecosystems rather than both their geographic locations and human ecodynamics. The very nature of the Faeroes’ and Iceland’s aquatic attributes and location within the North Atlantic placed the 21 Beck, ‘De la restitution archaéologique des espaces économiques et culturels: réflexions sur quelques points de méthodes’, in Helmig, Scholkmann and Untermann (eds.), Centre, Region, Periphery, Medieval Europe Basel 2002, p. 61 22 Renoux, ‘Centre, région et périphérie au Moyen Âge (Ve-XVe siècles), in Helmig, Scholkmann and Untermann (eds.), Centre, Region, Periphery, Medieval Europe Basel 2002, p. 35. 23 Renoux, ‘Centre, région et périphérie au Moyen Âge (Ve-XVe siècles), in Helmig, Scholkmann and Untermann (eds.), Centre, Region, Periphery, Medieval Europe Basel 2002, p. 35.

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islands at the centre of Norse polities rather than on their periphery and the economic relationships between Iceland, the Faeroes and Norway within a CPS framework must be revised. The ‘dependency’ between centre-provider and periphery-receiver is not based on the modern CPS theory embedded in ‘dependency theory’. This modern CPS theory equates ‘centre’ with wealthy and highly developed states and ‘periphery’ with poor, undeveloped zones which provide raw resources to centres which possess technologies to transform them. On the contrary, the CPS model developed below is based on Renoux’s concept and on the idea that Iceland protected her merchants and goods. Iceland was not forced to trade her fish by Norway – which is typical to the modern understanding of CPS, where a wealthy state exploits poorer ‘nations’ that form its colonies – but rather entered a commercial partnership with Norway. Marginality: Adaptation and Resilience Iceland and the Faeroes’ geographic and topographic particularities imposed significant economic choices on the settlers. In order to grasp those human-environmental interactions from which economies were built, a conceptual framework known as marginality poses the environmental settings of the places. As already mentioned above, marginality here refers to the physical and environmental attributes of Iceland and the Faeroes rather than to the economies developed by the settlers. Indeed, within economic anthropology and in an early medieval context, fishing tends to be considered as a marginal economic activity. Such identification with marginal economy however, is not shared by all researchers involved in socio-economic studies dealing with Dark Age to later Iron Age economies; some consider fishing and, more generally, exploitation of aquatic resources, to be as important as agricultural economies in the ‘stability of the economy’. 24 The divergence probably lies within the theoretical discourses of economic anthropology (which aim to explain human economic behaviour using the tools of both economics and anthropology) and economic history (which focuses on how economic phenomena developed in the past). Within such diverse theories and concepts, reconstruction of 24 Johansen in Myhre, ‘The Early Viking Age in Norway’, p. 37. Amongst others, the following works also point to the same inference, Myhre, ‘The Early Viking Age in Norway’, pp. 35-36; Clarke ‘The Development of Fishing in Prehistoric Europe’, pp. 63-81; Kosiba et al., ‘Stable isotopes as indicators of change in the food procurement and food preference of Viking Age and Early Christian populations on Gotland (Sweden), pp. 400-401; Pearson, ‘Nutrition and the Early-Medieval Diet’ p. 9; Sauer, Northern Mists, pp. 6-7.

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past ‘homo economicus’ behaviour remains challenging. Moreover, it has to be stressed that historical economic research has essentially focused on land and the rural class with the manorial system at its heart, rather than economic systems based on the exploitation of renewable resources from marine and riverine origins. Therefore, most economic models developed for the early to late medieval periods are based on terrestrial cycles, i.e. production of foodstuff, consumption patterns, social organisation of the landed class and relationships between producers and suppliers. They are therefore inappropriate for the present research which focuses on the exploitation of natural renewable resources – not quantifiable in the manner of agricultural production – and its derived economy. Hence, since the settlers developed societal and economic patterns through the exploitation of aquatic resources their economy should not be considered as marginal. Additionally, since an economic system usually relates to the whole social organisation in which or from which it derives, there is a need to understand the organisation via behavioural patterns before applying a model. By the same token, as human behaviour – and, for the purpose of the present thesis, economic behaviour – is linked to the natural environment, study of the ecosystems from an anthropocentric viewpoint should allow for a better understanding of the dynamics between ecological and economic systems. Multi-century life-span studies about groups of humans evolving in comparable environments and interacting in similar ways with their environment and its resources allow us to address specific questions about how societies developed without damaging their environment. Such an issue is of particular interest when a society settles a pristine landscape and chooses to base part of its economy on the exploitation of natural renewable resources such as aquatic ecosystems. The geographic location of such settlements adds to the interest too, since environmental variables play a role not only in the selection of the place but also in the success or failure of the settlers. Behaviour and Rationality Geraint Coles and Rupert A. Housley have argued that the North Atlantic Realm is a dynamic highly variable environment.25 D. Wilde et al. claim that success depends on behaviour, which is a composite of three main 25 Housley and Coles, Atlantic Connections and Adaptations: Economies, environments and subsistence in lands bordering the North Atlantic, xvi.

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elements: physiological, physical and rational.26 For the authors, rational factors remain the less predictable since they originate in the ‘creations of the thinking brain’; yet, knowledge acquired through such ‘creations’ grows, is cumulative and transferable. As touched on above, Iceland and the Faeroes can be perceived as marginal environments, yet it could be argued that notions of marginality are cultural constructs mainly based on an onlooker’s presumption of his own environmental conditions as being the norm compared to those living in very different environments, generally unknown and subsequently ‘inexperienced’ by the onlooker. As Geraint Coles and Christopher Mills have argued, environments that are marginal to one economy may well be perfectly suited to another. 27 For instance, f ishing communities and people extracting their living from the aquatic world – fishing and harpooning – tend to be considered by ‘land and terrestrial’ exploiters as marginal groups. An anthropological study of fishermen comes to the conclusion that the ‘psychological characteristics of fishermen’ present strong similarities across the world and that their adaptability to their environment is directly linked to their psychological capacity to cope with the aquatic world.28 ‘Agressivity, courage and independence’ are amongst their psychological characteristics which to a large extent mirror adaptation to the water world. While it appears homogenous to the untrained eye, the sea is an environment with great variables such as climatic changes, presence or absence of species as well as their quantity, and men evolving in such an environment need not only basic technology such as boats and gear but also coping capacity and resilience. Ecosystems in marginal environments limit the economic growth and choice of human groups except when the resources of these ecological units are renewable such as in aquatic environments. In environmental economics, the term renewable has to be understood as the degree to which a resource shows economically considerable rates of reproducibility.29 Another definition of renewable resources describes them as ‘living resources which have regenerative capability’; they are considered as ‘non-exhaustible’.30 Although it will be argued that ‘sea resources management’ is the product of modern fisheries and European policies, Scandinavians had acquired, in pre-historic times, 26 Wilde et al., ‘Knowledge, Uncertainty and Behaviour’, p. 404. 27 Wilde et al., ‘Knowledge, Uncertainty and Behaviour’, ix. 28 Acheson, ‘Anthropology of Fishing’, pp. 296-297. 29 Perman and McGilvray, Natural Resources and Environmental Economics, p. 3. 30 Kahn, The Economic Approach To Environmental and Natural Resources, p. 4.

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a sound knowledge of the resilient capacity of marine and riverine species though they had certainly not formulated their knowledge in these terms. Numerous studies have demonstrated that the colonization of Norse settlers in the British Isles produced a ‘fish horizon’, as discussed below. Marine ecozones contain various species with different habits requiring a range of catching techniques and it appears that in Europe, fishing developed as an economic activity prior to agriculture. Fish bones and fishing equipment together with pictorial representations of fish in caves from Upper Palaeolithic times, as well as nets and floats from the Mesolithic period, are among many artefacts attesting to the role of aquatic resources in human life.31 Stone and Bronze Age fish remains from Scandinavia and the British Isles show that communities had already begun to focus on cod, herring and haddock; therefore, it could be argued that the later Iron Age Norse inherited centuries of fishing knowledge and that their ‘fish horizon’ marked itself in the continuity. In the late 1990s, James Barrett conducted a zooarchaeological study into the fish trade in Norse Orkney as a vector of changes in Scandinavian polities; he furthered that research by seeking pre-Norse data with regards to sea exploitation.32 The end result of both studies was the identification of changing patterns in maritime exploitation with a considerable increase in fishing with the arrival of the Norse colonisers. Furthermore, it seems that indigenous inhabitants in areas of Norse colonization adapted to Scandinavian customs and acquired new knowledge and technologies of fishing. It seems, therefore, that the economic behaviour of the Norse was led by economic rationality through the exploitation of aquatic resources. Indeed, they were able to optimise their knowledge to the point of developing a technology suitable for producing surpluses from which they extracted their wealth. It can be said that their economic rationality was predictable since it largely originated in the physiological needs of being fed in order to survive. Transmission of fishing knowledge by hunter-gatherer communities to more sedentary groups, including farming communities, enabled them to diversify their diet with a ‘continuous and inexhaustible supply of food’, as claimed by Sauer.33 Fishing became integrated with the other economic 31 Clarke, ‘The Development of Fishing in Prehistoric Europe’, pp. 44-79. Nicholson, ‘Fishing in the Northern Isles: a Case Study based on Fish Bone Assemblages from Two Multi-period Sites on Sanday, Orkney’, pp. 15-28. 32 Barrett, ’Fish Trade in Norse Orkney and Caithness: a zooarchaeological approach’, pp. 616638. Barrett et al., ‘Archaeo-ichthyological Evidence for Long-term Socioeconomic Trends in Northern Scotland: 3500 BC to AD 1500’, pp. 353-388. 33 Sauer, ‘Seashore-Primitive home of man’, in Leighly (ed.), Land and Life, p. 309.

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activities of these groups which, as with agriculture, produced more food than necessary for their consumption and used these surpluses to generate wealth. These socioeconomic trends expanded beyond the settlement nucleus to the point of becoming specialised to a segment of the population. Adaptation of primitive fishing gear – boats, line, traps, weights, hooks and harpoons – evolved with the transformation of fishing for personal/ communal consumption purposes to fishing for mercantile ends.

Environmental Factors and the Norse Pioneers of Iceland and the Faeroes As noted above, the understanding of human-nature interactions is essential for anyone seeking to grasp the dynamics at work with regards to the economic structure of communities. Having presented concepts relating to human economic behaviour, it is now necessary to contextualise those behaviours within their natural environments. Yet, since there is no way to recapture exactly either the nature of past environments or humans’ perception of it, theories on how the environment determines human socioeconomic behaviours have led research since the early twentieth century. Although any research must be framed within a theory or concept, it seems that human-nature relationships are more flexible than most determinists envisaged although most studies are influenced by environmental determinism, which seems to be the background for the conventional narrative. For Ian G. Simmons, environmental determinism is a concept which seems to be too reductive and which builds ‘stereotypes’ in its ‘notion of historical evolution being determined by the physical conditions of its environment’. In his view, therefore, it cannot explain fully human ecodynamics which are more complex.34 As pointed out by Worster, ‘the use of natural sciences are indispensable aids for the environmental historian, who must begin by reconstructing past landscape, learning what they were and how they functioned before human societies entered them’.35 Starting within a deterministic logic, the present author draws on various concepts both from anthropology and cultural geography and proposes a new line of thinking grounded in resource possibilism rather than determinism. It should be noted here that resource possibilism is not grounded in economic possibilism although it might lead to it; the foundation of this concept lies 34 Simmons, Environmental History, A Concise Introduction, p. 178. 35 Worster, ‘Appendix: Doing Environmental History’, p. 294.

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with the very nature of the resource exploited and therefore economic possibilism theories are not discussed since it is not the purpose of the model developed. The ‘possibilistic logic’ designed below enables flexibility and modularity in its approach as opposed to the deterministic one. It seems particularly relevant when dealing with natural renewable resources and socio-economic developments based on the exploitation of such resources.

Environmental Determinism and the Settlement of Iceland and the Faeroes Lucien Febvre from the Annales School developed a theory based on the role geography plays in history known as ‘environmental possibilism’ and ‘environmental determinism’. According to Febvre, there exists a variety of human responses to the environment in which they lived and the natural surroundings determined the history of the people: the ‘possibilism’ theory highlights that the natural environment sets limits and the ‘determinism’ one emphasises that the natural environment determines peoples’ culture rather than socio-economic conditions. It could be argued therefore, that both concepts are embedded in human behaviour: the ‘possibilism’ affects economic behaviour while ‘determinism’ shapes cultural behaviour. Febvre’s theory led the path to new understanding and therefore explanation on the ‘man-land’ interactions, through the prism of historical geography; regional (historical) geographic studies became the fer de lance of the Annales School until the 1960s when ‘environmental determinism’ was applied to human-environment interactions studies and ‘escaped from regional geography’.36 Yet, if it cannot be ruled out that natural surroundings play a role in nature-society interactions, human ecodynamics are over all more complex. Although human responses to the environment can be predicted through behavioural concepts, since human activities are embedded within a ‘religious-political’ framework, there are many factors that weigh on human behaviour and which are not always visible to the modern eye. Settlers of pristine or nearly pristine islands, as with both Iceland and the Faeroes, carried with them biota to replicate what they had in their home country. In this instance, it would appear then that they imposed their biota on the environment and that both the physical and biological environments of the islands did not determine the settlers’ economic choice. If their behaviour was ‘environmentally determined’ and therefore driven, they would not 36 Kates, ‘The Human Environment: The Road Not Taken, The Road Still Beckoning’, p. 526.

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have imposed their grazing livestock and cereal cultivation on low soil quality nor would have they cleared Iceland of its original woodland cover, as will be discussed below. While environmental deterministic logic seems to remain at the heart of historical research attempting to understand past economic trends within a definite cultural and political ecology (CAPE) context, part of past human organisation and perception of the non-human world will remain ephemeral to modern researchers. Yet, past people were the product of beliefs, cultural and political values that moulded their attitudes towards their natural surroundings and these can be perceived through their writings and economico-cultural behaviours. Within the Scandinavian and Icelandic cosmology, the natural environment plays a central role in the shaping of a non-human world filled by ‘souls and creatures’ living in caves, lava fields, and glaciers. Moreover, the aquatic world is populated by numerous creatures and has a prominent place in the cosmology which was embedded in the day-to-day life of the settlers. The aquatic element was part of them and they did not perceive it as being an ‘outsider’ but a continuation of the land and ultimately themselves, although it could be, at times, a dangerous place. Recent research studying burial practices in Viking Age Iceland has shown that 70% of Icelandic burials were connected to the water with 80% of these burials situated near different types of waters (shoreline, rivers, and riverbanks).37 Within the latter percentage, 70.2% ‘had potentially full view or partial view of the sea during optimal weather conditions’ which again validates the role of water in Viking Age Iceland.38 Overall and to return to theorisation of past societies’ activities, it appears that the product of modern scholarship, which over-read past behaviours, and the attribution of modern thoughts and considerations to the past, leads inevitably to misunderstanding, which in turn considerably increases the gap of our ignorance rather than diminishing it. Discrepancies between past and present people cannot be reconciled and need to be considered when attempting to model past socio-economic practices. Notwithstanding that observation, since the 1960s various concepts springing from ecological theories and environmental determinism proposed ‘new’ angles of approach in order to understand human-environment interactions. Several concepts from deep ecology to less deep ecological and political rooted theories 37 Maher, Landscapes of Life and Death: Social Dimensions of a Perceived Landscape in Viking Age Iceland, pp. 175-176. 38 Maher, Landscapes of Life and Death: Social Dimensions of a Perceived Landscape in Viking Age Iceland, p. 181.

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have fuelled the field of environmental studies. For instance, the concepts of wilderness as expressed by Oelschlaeger who draws together evidence from archaeology, ecology, literature, anthropology, cultural geography and theology39, of the ‘single and self-regulating complex’ of Lovelock, 40 and of the ‘green philosophy’ as articulated by Martell41 epitomise paths of researching and understanding human-environment interactions. Within the environmentalist movement, theoreticians identified five successive ‘moments’ – cultural possibilism, systems, behaviourism, structuralism and integrative human ecologies – where the environment’s constraints become the ‘motor’ of human adaptability and response to the natural world. 42 Yet, it seems that modelling anew these moments so that they become both amorphous and permeable, to be complementary in a sum of them and not successive, would perhaps better fit human ecodynamics. Judkins et al model highlights the successive phases or ‘moments’ embedded in environmental determinism as defined in their research. For them, ‘determinism’ scales from weak to strong while ‘periods’ are translated as moments. The parameters chosen by Judkins et al – society and household – are not particularly determined by their environment in most phases, except with the ‘moments of systems’ where culture is seen as the product of human-environment interaction, and ‘integrative human ecologies’, where the human agent seems in adequation with the natural world and became the ‘receptacle’ of the said world. Of all the moments, that of systems seems the most adequate since it intertwines both man and the natural world in a matrix from which Man extracts the foundation of pre-Christian beliefs and integrates them in his culture and economic development, whereas ‘society’ remains generally outside these periods. This absence of 39 Oelschlaeger, The idea of wilderness: from prehistory to the age of ecology. 40 Lovelock’s Gaia theory was developed in the 1960s: all organisms and their inorganic surroundings on Earth are closely integrated and form a single and self-regulating complex system that maintains the conditions for life on the planet. Lovelock is acknowledged as the historical and cultural leader of the environmentalism movement. 41 Martell, Ecology and Society: an introduction. Martell’s study is an introduction to green ideas for the social sciences, which shows how society interacts with nature, and highlights the flaws in the philosophy and politics of the green movement. 42 Judkins et al., ‘Determinism within human-environment research and the rediscovery of environmental causation’, pp. 17-29. I, moment of environmental determinism: environment held fundamental sway over humanity; II, moment of cultural possibilism: free will of human as constrained or enabled by the environment; III, moment of systems: culture as the product of human-environment interaction ; IV, moment of behaviouralism: human as active agent and use of the micro-scale spatial research; V, moment of structuralism: introduction of political ecology approach; VI, moment of integrative human ecologies: combination of cultural and political ecologies approach.

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society is not surprising since society is the product of human perception and adaptation to the world. Within the Man-environment relationship, Larry Grossman stresses that anthropologists’ and geographers’ approaches diverge since the former research ‘man’s adaptation to nature’ while the latter are concerned with ‘man’s adaptation of nature’. 43 Therefore, the deterministic logic can be envisaged through either the human or nature prism; yet, and whatever the approach, it remains that man is part of the natural world and de facto influenced by it. What seems at the heart of these studies is the ‘level’ of influence and the response, either passive or active, of humans to their natural surroundings. In this connection, and since it cannot be denied that the economic and socio-culturo-political organizations of both Icelanders and Faeroese were the direct outcome of their geographic and environmental surroundings, thinking about their adaptation and successive development within a ‘resources possibilism’ context allows flexibility in not only the approach but also the emerging understanding in respect of human ecodynamics. Although it is impossible to resolve the temporal and spatial time-lag, ‘resources possibilism’ coupled with the behavioural concept enables us to model how they subsisted with the natural resources at their disposal. The main differences between environmental determinism and resource possibilism lie with both resilience of the resources exploited and humans’ adaptability to such resources on which the possibilism is based. The resource possibilism line of thinking seems a valid modus operandi for it seeks within written documents and environmental data resources that were mostly used and then integrate these parameters in an economic model based on rationality and behaviourism.

Resource Possibilism and the Settlement of Iceland and the Faeroes Iceland’s fauna and flora, together with its climatic and geological conditions as noted earlier, lead to questions about the causes behind the settlement of Iceland. In a paper on Iceland’s settlement Jón Thór seemed sceptical concerning the Scandinavian colonists’ motives and stated that ‘coming to a country devoid of terrestrial animals that could be hunted for food, and able to transport just a limited number of livestock from Norway, the settlers had to wait several years before the stock could develop sufficiently 43 Grossman, ‘Man-environment relationships in Anthropology and Geography’, pp. 126-144.

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to sustain them’. 44 This, if correct, would suggest that the pioneers were somewhat unprepared for a permanent settlement of Iceland, although the literature highlights that they left Norway with no possible return since they were opposing the Norwegian king and had not much choice but to remain in Iceland. Scandinavian land annexations and colonisation campaigns in the northern hemisphere (England and Nowadays Normandy for instance) showed a high level of preparation and several successes. Hence, there remains the possibility that Scandinavians knew of Iceland prior to its definite settlement in the ninth century. It definitively cannot be ruled out that Norwegians had already explored the island while en route to the Faeroes or during fishing campaigns. It is also emphasised that, when back in Norway, they highly praised the land. It appears that more ‘Vikings’ as described in Landnámabók sought Iceland and, once found, either built cairns or established their homes. Once again, this would suggest that Iceland’s settlement was progressive. The fact that they wintered in Iceland raises the question of their consumption habits. Though they certainly brought food with them, it is doubtful that they took a whole season’s supply. As the most common resource in Iceland, fish certainly had its role in their survival; they must have used all palatable resources at their disposal, including seals, stranded whales and fowling, while vegetation must have been sufficient for fuel. In fact, all the descriptions with regards to Iceland stress that the island’s natural resources are sufficient for anyone willing to settle there. Another route concerning the chronological settlement of Iceland can be proposed: a progressive colonisation by fishermen and harpooners as shown in Figure 3. The transportation and maintenance of livestock there served as a food and ‘raw’ material reserves for fishermen and harpooners who used Iceland as a seasonal fishing and whaling settlement. The political complications that happened during the ninth century perhaps accelerated the process of settlement. Margrét Hermanns-Auðardóttir has claimed that Iceland was inhabited by the seventh century, although, to date, there is insufficient data to prove her theory correct; actually, there are no formal archives that could disprove that Iceland’s settlement by the Norse did not start earlier than the late ninth century. 45 Amongst all the descriptions locating Iceland, the earliest ones are those of Strabo in his geographical 44 Thór, ‘Icelandic Fisheries, c. 900-1900’, in Starkey, Thór and Heidbrink (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, Vol.1: From Early Times to the Mid-Nineteenth Century, p. 323. 45 Hermanns-Auðardóttir, ‘The Early Settlement of Iceland’, pp. 1-33. It has to be noted that 14 C dating of Icelandic charcoal must be cautiously interpreted since there can be between 200 and 300 years’ discrepancies between the material dated and the settlement of a site, see Ólafsson, ‘New Evidence for the Dating of Iceland’s Settlement. A Viking-age discovery in the

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treatise (c. AD 30) and Pliny the Elder (AD 77) are the best examples. Strabo notes that Pytheas of Massilia reported that the island was ‘six days’ sail north of Britain’ and ‘was near the frozen sea’, Geography, Book I, Chapter 4. While Pliny positions Iceland along the most northerly parallel of those he describes ‘last of all is the Scythian parallel, from the Rhiphean hills into Thule: wherein[…] it is day and night continually by turns for six months’.46 If an earlier settlement – seasonal or permanent – of Iceland is generally contested, any navigator could have reached Iceland by using these descriptions. If it could be argued that these sources were not widely available for the common people; educated ones, however, could have read them. Though environmental dynamics favoured the exploitation of aquatic resources, it has been claimed that ‘domestic’ f isheries, as opposed to ‘commercial’ f isheries, prevailed in Iceland from c. 900 until 1300. 47 Primary evidence does not support such a claim, Grágás speaks of economic activities based on the exploitation of aquatic resources prior to the fourteenth century, although it does not clearly differentiate between ‘domestic’ and ‘commercial’ trade. The date of 1300 for the commencement of commercial fishing in Iceland has never been fully justified. In fact, 1300 does not correspond to any event in Icelandic history or turning point in its economic history either. It should be noted that, by the late 1260s, family feuds between the leading chieftaincies as well as emerging tensions between political leaders and the Church such as the slow interference of Norway in Icelandic internal political – but mostly in church – affairs, with the election of Norwegian bishops to Icelandic bishoprics from the late 1230s, are factors that certainly disrupted Iceland’s economy. Yet, numerous scholars persist in dating the beginning of Icelandic industrial fishing to the early fourteenth century with Norwegian trader-ship owners launching and leading the trade. Yet, and to return to Iceland’s settlement, V. Kristinsson notes that one of the Norwegians’ migration drivers to Iceland was the search for lands from which to obtain a better standard of living. 48 Lands that could be used for agricultural purposes stretch along the coasts, with 20-50% of these soils possessing properties which make them suitable for agriculture although they required intense fertilisation. On the other hand, sea and rivers resources contain greater economic potential for their cave Víðgelmir’, in Mortensen and Arge (eds.), Viking And Norse in the North Atlantic, Select Papers from the Proceedings of the Fourteenth Viking Congress, Tórshavn, 19-30 July 2001, pp. 200-207. 46 ; Strabo, Geography, Book I, Chapter 4; Pliny, Natural History, Book VI, Chapter 34. 47 Thór, ‘Icelandic Fisheries, c. 900-1900’, in Starkey, Thór and Heidbrink (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, Vol.1: From Early Times to the Mid-Nineteenth Century, pp. 323-329. 48 Kristinsson, ‘Population distribution and standard of living in Iceland’, p. 53.

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Figure 1 Relation of strategic choices and resources possibilism in organisational adaptation

STRATEGIG CHOICE

A III - Strategic choice: settlement areas Maximum choice: access to sea and river resources with possibility to farm with shieling access Adaptation by design: depending on the economic choice developed without considering the natural environment

II – Differentiation of focus: professional Vs Subsistence Differential choice: specialisation commercial/ industrial fishing or farming Adaptation within constraints: both

Individual choice Resources selection

IV – Undifferentiated Choice: No economic specialisation, opportunistic exploitation Incremental choice: limited Adaptation by choice: knowledge and technology

I – Natural selection: marine and riverine species Minimum choice: availability of renewable resources year-round Adaptation or selection out: marine/riverine fish species, sea mammals, sea birds B

Low

High Resource Possibilism Concept

Hrebinisk and Joyce, Organisational Adaptation (1985)

resources are natural and renewable, and did not need human management for the period that interest us. The economic models based on the exploitation of fish have been developed after Hrebiniak and Joyce, Judkins, Smith and Keys concepts since there is no quantitative data available for the Viking Age and medieval period. The first graph (Figure 1) highlights human response to resource availability and the subsequent economic choices. The difficulty with the resource possibilism concept lies with the lack of quantitative data to measure the available resources and therefore to present a projected graph (Figure 2) on the exploitation of aquatic resources. Nevertheless, it has been designed to better visualise how aquatic resources were exploited in Iceland and how society, household and foreign exploitation interacted together. The period axis has been divided into eight time-horizons that were drawn through the use of written materials: I – Discovery of Iceland and its aquatic resources; II – Iceland as seasonal fishing grounds; III – c. 870-1000,

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Figure 2 Availabilty of renewable resource and possibilism concept 9 8 7

Resources

6 5

Possibilism Exploitation of Aquatic Resources

4

Society

3

Household Foreign Exploitation

2 1 0

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

Period

Permanent settlement; IV – Christianisation, c. 1000; V – AD 1000-mid 14th c., ‘Norwegian Period’; VI – c. 1349 ‘English Period’; VII – Late 15th c., ‘Hansards Period’; VIII – 16th c., post-Hansards. No dates have been defined for periods I and II for this graph is based on the idea that Iceland was known and perhaps its aquatic resources exploited prior to the Settlement in the late ninth century. Surpluses of aquatic resources from phases I to III seemed more important than from phase III onwards since exploitation of fish and sea mammals was not taxed (no written material, yet, there remains the possibility of taxation by powerful chieftains) and Iceland was not fully and permanently settled. With Landnám and the development of the Icelandic society, surpluses started to be traded (nationally and overseas) and used as currency. The graph below (Figure 3) is a hybrid integrating Judkin’s moments and the present author’s resource possibilism model. The resources plot area does not vary as the environment does in Judkins’s graph and it would seem that the deterministic theory is not fit for the explanation of economic developments based on the exploitation of renewable resources. However, when determinism and possibilism are merged as below, it appears that the chosen parameter representing household follows moments IV and V which correspond to moments of behaviouralism and structuralism while society follows the path of possibilism.

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Figure 3 Fish-based economic development within a resource possibilism framework 7

Resource Possibilism

6 5

Resource Possibilism (after the present author)

4

Household

3

Society

2

Environment (after Judkins)

1 0

0

1

2

3 4 Period

5

6

7

It is noticeable that when environment and household – phase VI, moment of integrative human ecologies – start again to move up and rely more on renewable resources, society follows its own path. This would indicate that household and society produce differing economic patterns and that the availability of renewable resources is not necessarily integrated in society’s economy. Such a difference might also explain why so few records on Iceland and the Faeroes fish trade are extant for the period under study since they are produced by society rather than households. Such ‘discrepancies’ between determinism and possibilism stem from the difference between the nature of the environment and how humans behave in and alter that environment. Lastly what ‘we’ as human beings and researchers ‘feel and think about the environment’ is described by David Lowenthal, who notes that these ‘realms’49 are de facto interrelated and that they cannot be understood in isolation since very different disciplines address different set of questions.50 As for the Faeroes, their geographical location and archipelago structure certainly determine what natural resources the Faeroese could exploit for both consumption and trade. Since it cannot be denied that both topography and climatic-oceanic conditions had – and still have – major 49 Lowenthal, Environmental Perception and Behaviour, p. 1. Lowenthal refers to the three ‘realms’ within geographical study: the two described above and the third one being how we feel and think about the environment. 50 Lowenthal, Environmental Perception and Behaviour, p. 1.

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inputs on human economic developments, this would demonstrate that the natural environment determined human behaviour and that though the Faeroese waters are full of fish, environmental circumstances, such as sea currents and storms, have more bearing on human choices than the availability of resources. With regard to climate classification, the Faeroes’ climate belongs to the Maritime Subarctic climates, Group C, as Iceland, sea currents around the Faeroes (merging of the Norwegian current and the Gulf Stream), the strong currents and temperate waters keep the waters surrounding the Faeroes Sea ice-free the whole year.51 Such causality is certainly due to the ‘island’ status of the Faeroes, which seems more influential there than in the Icelandic case, as pointed out by Mairs who commented that ‘the biogeography of islands is dependent on the dispersal of groups of plants and animals, to a large degree affected by the distance from both mainland source regions and between other islands that act as stepping stones’.52 While Iceland is an island, it can be said that it has more continental features in the sense that it is one mass of land rather than an archipelago and that it acted as ‘mainland’ to the Faeroes. The balance of the archipelago’s terrestrial ecosystems was – and still is – more subject to the climatic-oceanic conditions than were the Icelandic ones. By the same token, human impact in the Faeroes appears more visible and long term than in Iceland. Overall, it would seem though that determinism and possibilism are two concepts that are not mutually exclusive and can interlock and interrelate according to circumstances as seen for the Faeroes. While the hunt for lands as a motive for settlement cannot be denied, access to aquatic resources to increase Norse fishing grounds in order to expand their trade with the North Atlantic population and to develop the said trade further cannot be ruled out. This proposal fits the hypothesis that a North Atlantic economic commonwealth with Iceland at its centre developed during the later Iron Age. In terms of theory, it also emphasises the interdependence between the economic partners of that commonwealth as discussed in the subsequent section on the economic commonwealth. However, the essential condition for any society living and developing an economy on renewable resources, such as aquatic resources, is not only the availability of the species but also both the capacity of catching the resources on a regular basis and the capacity to produce surpluses to supply trading networks.53 51 worldatlas.com/atlas/infopage/norwegiansea.htm 52 Mairs, Islands and human impact: Under what circumstances do people put unsustainable demands on island environments? Evidence from the North Atlantic’, p. 36. 53 Hilborn et al., ‘Sustainable Exploitation of Renewable Resources’, p. 47.

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Exploitation of Aquatic Systems In the following section, the main aim is to reconcile species present in the Icelandic and Faeroese waters with what is known of fish processing and end-products for the period under study. The species have been selected according to their presence in both Icelandic and Faeroese waters and not according to the conventional narrative that asserts that cod was ‘the’ main commercial fish. As there are more than fourteen commercial species, only the four most significant marine species – three of the gadidae family and one from the clupidae – and two riverine ones are discussed below, the rest being presented in the relevant section of the appendices.54 Icelandic and Faeroes Waters The sea around Iceland, and especially the 100 000 km² ledge, are part of the richest fishing grounds in the world.55 Sea depth around Iceland is less than 200 m, but this depth shows varying zone depth between 200 and 1000m further at sea. This is important for the present work which deals with pre-trawling fishing, though, by the later period, net dragging was in use. Yet, as will be shown below, most species were caught within the 200m depth zone. For the others, fishing campaigns were certainly longer and perhaps less successful in terms of average catch for the travelling time to the fishing grounds as well as the human efforts needed. Sea temperature around Iceland varies, with the west and north regions between 4 ºC and 12 ºC. This temperature is due to the Irminger Current, a warm current from the Gulf Stream, off the north-west coast that splits into two currents turning eastward along the north coast of Iceland and westward to Greenland. The East Icelandic Current, bringing Atlantic water mixed with polar water, has a temperature around 3 ºC and below, which diffuses southward from the northeast and east coasts, and lastly the Coastal Current, running clockwise and formed by the two other currents. Sea temperature is a key factor for a more rapid development of fish and a successful reproduction cycle. Faeroese waters are similar to Iceland with, however, a more complex hydrographical setting which allows for Boreal and Mediterranean species to be present abundantly as recently recorded.56 54 Description of the various species presented in Nordal, J.and Kristinsson, V.R. (eds.), ‘Animal Life in Fresh Water‘, Iceland – The Republic, pp. 43-47. 55 Preusser, The Landscape of Iceland: Types and Regions, p. 85. 56 WWF Publication, www.ngo.grida.no/wwfneop

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Around the archipelago, the Faeroe Bank is regularly shaped – as in Iceland – and sections on top of the banks are shallow with less than 100m depth which, as in Iceland, explains both quantity and quality of stocks. Off shore, Inshore and Riverine Fish Resources A survey of the ‘Wheeler’ (encyclopaedia of fish species written by Alwyne Wheeler) shows that Icelandic waters offer a wide-range of fish. Amongst the species, at least fourteen sub-species could supply a non-subsistence economy while ten can be categorised as subsistence economy.57 The difference between subsistence and non-subsistence species lie principally with the size of the fish, its palatability and hence its commercial value. While some species retained an ‘international’ trading value, others were reserved for national consumption which does not exempt them from playing a role in the Icelandic market economy. Though it is generally claimed that the fishing season started in early spring to late autumn according to weather conditions, if climatic conditions permitted, autumn and winter fishing could occur, allowing year-round fishing activity.58 Moreover, it appears that fishing until midsummer was allowed although this was during what was considered being the ‘working season’ – the harvest season – and those men were needed for building construction and repairs. Fishing varied in scale and intensity according to the f ishing place and season. Coastal fishing was highly influenced by both climatic and tidal conditions although as seen above, ice did not prevent sailing and fishing. Offshore fishery during early historical periods indicates a sound knowledge of fish habits. Landnámabók identifies most of Iceland’s settlers as originating from the west and north regions in Norway which had strong fishing communities and developed technology for high sea fishing. These Norwegian settlers from West Norway were experienced too in fjords fishing, while those from North Norway – Lofoten Islands – developed a 57 Subsistence fish: Skates or Rays family with the Roker, Starry Ray and Fuller’s ray; Whitefishes with the Salmon, Charr; Smelts and Argentines; Eels with Eel and Conger Eel; Garfish, Flying-fishes and Skippers with the Saury Pike, and Garpike; Hake and Cod Fishes with the Blue Whiting, Norway pout, Pollack and Whiting. Non-Subsistence fish: Basking Shark, Greenland Shark for oil; Spurdog as baits and for its liver; Angler, Haddock, Cod, Mackerel, Saithe, Skate, Sea Trout, Torsk, Tunny, Ling and catfish for food; Herring for whitebait (young) and food. This list has been established with the ‘Wheeler’. Preusser has indicated that herring and cod remain the most commercial species among the 10-15 non-subsistence fish that are found in Icelandic waters, The Landscape of Iceland: Types and Regions, p. 86. 58 Landnámabók, pp. 34, 54

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technology suitable to high sea fishing where the main fishing grounds were and still are. Norwegian boats were built according to fishing; besides, each province had its own craft as in Iceland. Marine Species Among the species caught in the North Atlantic, the commercial value attached to cod in the conventional narrative seems to have been overemphasised. As noted earlier, there are more than ten species with a commercial value and it seems necessary, for the purpose of the present thesis, to introduce them. Moreover, the number of marine species living off the coasts of Iceland enabled partition of fishing between subsistence fishing and commercial exploitation of the sea. Besides, it cannot be denied that their locations off Iceland and the Faeroes facilitated regionalisation per species. What follows is an overview of the most important species within specific families; for some, exploitation of their economic value can be traced back to prehistoric times, while others are absent from most studies related to the exploitation of aquatic resources although they inhabit Iceland and the Faeroes waters: gadidae (Hake and Cod fishes), clupidae (Herring like f ishes), scombridae (Mackerels and Tunnies), rajidae (Skates or Rays), salmonidae (Salmon, Chars and Trout) and adopes (Eels). Hake and cod are the most common within the gadidae family living in the North Atlantic. Those from the cod family (Gadus callarias, Gadus virens and Gadus æglefinus) are of the greatest economic value. Cod proper (Gadus morhua L.) is the most known within the gadidae family. Iceland hosts two different stocks of cod which make this resource available all year round. A recent study on the genetic and life history of cod stocks has demonstrated that there exist local populations of cod living south of Iceland where the sea temperature is higher than in other locations around the landmass.59 The length of cod south and southwest of Iceland was generally greater than that of cod northwest, north, and east of Iceland. Cod south and southwest of Iceland were also generally heavier than cod northwest, north, and east of Iceland. The average size of cod fished off the southwest coast of Iceland during winter is 70-90 cm, off the north and east coasts it is much smaller. During the day, cod live in schools, which makes fishing easier. 59 Jónsdóttir et al., ‘Otolith shape and temporal stability of spawning groups of Icelandic cod (Gadus morhua L.)’, pp. 1501-1512.

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Saithe (Pollachius virens L), of the cod family, lives in small shoals in inshore waters and is very common. A recent study has demonstrated that fish of the same size tend to school together;60 this certainly plays a role in fishing strategy: it varies in length from 20 to 110 cm, with an average length of 60 cm. It is a very valuable species that migrates from the Norwegian waters to Iceland and the Faeroes, entering coastal waters in spring with a return to deep waters in winter and occurs inshore and offshore. Another which was – and still is – significant for the Icelandic fisheries is haddock (Melanogrammus æglefinus L.). It occurs in water depths ranging from 40 to 300m and prospers in temperatures between 2 °C and 10 °C. Its main spawning grounds are located on the western and southern coasts of Iceland, and all around the Faeroes, and it does not engage in long migratory routes; its average length is 35 cm, although 112 cm length specimens have been recorded. The spawning season takes place between January and July. This species has a particular habitat, it can settle on certain ground for several consecutive years until full extinction. There exist groups of haddock forming local populations with their own variations in terms of habits and growth. Belonging to the Clupidae family, the herring of the North Atlantic can be divided into numerous species differing both morphologically and biologically. Herring have two spawning seasons, spring and autumn, and breeds of herring are differentiated according to their spawning season; these species form the Atlanto-Scandian stock and are migratory. The Atlanto-Scandian stock, which migrates earlier to Icelandic waters, spawns off the west coast of Norway. Mature herring come here to feed, when spring starts in the ocean. In June or in the beginning of July, it had arrived at the fishing grounds off the north coast. However, there is a third category, itself subdivided, which is typical to Iceland and different from its Atlanto-Scandian counterparts since it spawns in summer and spring and is a coastal species which does not migrate. Therefore, Icelandic waters benefit from three races with two non-migratory, living mainly in the south-west coast of Iceland; the Icelandic summer spawning stock breeds in the bays and fjords off the northwest, north, and northeast coasts until it is two years old. During the third year it migrates to the ocean south of the country, where it spawns as well off the west coast. Herring are pelagic and found in offshore waters from the surface to depths of 200 m, it lives in schools in coastal waters and its average length is 30 cm. 60 Armannsson et al., ‘Distribution and migration of saithe (Pollachius virens) around Iceland inferred from mark-recapture studies’, p. 1007.

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Other these species are not mentioned in the conventional narrative either because their size does not fit the traditional ‘commercial size’ or because no bones have been recovered from archaeological contexts. Even ‘the Wheeler’ does not offer great details on them because some have an ‘unknown natural history’; hence their description is not as detailed as the most well-known species. Yet they remain valuable for both consumption and trade and there is no ground to disregard them as participating in the fish trade. Knowledge of species such as their spawning season, living habits, habitats and migratory route is central for anyone engaged in commercial fisheries and there is little doubt that Scandinavian fishermen passed such knowledge within their community and from generation to generation. Whiting (Merlangus merlangus L), for instance is a very common species in the North Atlantic and North Sea. It lives in shallow water (between 30 to 100 m) and close to the shore. It is not mentioned in conventional narratives with regards to the fish trade as its size (45-53 cm average) does not fit that of the traded species, usually between 60-80cm. Yet, as a staple product, there is no reason to disregard whiting for national trade; moreover, its habitats certainly encouraged inshore small boats fisheries. Like whiting, and with roughly the same size (45-55 cm), pollack (Pollachius pollachius L) is an inshore species living in proximity to rocks and rough grounds. It swims mid-water and in small shoals which make it a perfect product for inshore small boat fisheries and national trade. The spawning starts in January to April, and the greatest spawning intensity is March. Ling (Molva molva) that is a member of the cod-like fish family can reach a very large size, the largest specimen ever caught measured 212 cm long. It occurs all around the country and is also found in the Faeroese waters. Young fish tend to live in shallower waters than the mature ones. The spawning season starts in May until June with the spawning grounds located along the continental shelf break off south and west Iceland. Fishing grounds are spread from the east to the west of Iceland, with the most important grounds are close to the Vestmannaeyjar Islands off the south coast. As it is caught by longline amongst other fishing techniques, it is a serious candidate for supporting part of internal trade and regional trade with the British Northern Isles Although not found in waters below 10 °C-12 °C, Tunny is common in northern waters as in the Faeroes and Iceland. Feeding largely on herring, mackerel and whiting amongst others, its presence all around Iceland is not surprising although their numbers are lower in the Faeroes. In the Norwegian Sea, it is not rare to catch specimen between 135 cm and 241 cm according to their age and the Icelandic stock certainly correspond to the Norwegian one.

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Riverine Species There are not many freshwater fish species in both Icelandic and Faeroese waters. For the Faeroes, only two species, the European eel and the Atlantic salmon are known to be native while seven indigenous species occur in Iceland. Iceland boasts about 250 rivers, eighty of which are classed as salmon rivers. Five species of fish living partly or wholly in fresh water are native to Iceland: Atlantic salmon (Salmo salar), brown trout (Salmo trutta), Arctic char (Salvelinus alpinus), European eel (Anguilla anguilla) and three-spined stickleback (Gasterosteus aculeatus). Brown trout and char each have two forms, one group of which, the brown trout and char, live out their life span in fresh water lakes – Iceland has 1840 lakes – while the other, the sea trout and sea char, migrate to the sea to feed.The productivity of rivers depends on their volume, temperature and stability. Conditions during the earliest period of Iceland’s history were favourable according to Landnámabók which indicates that riverine species were abundant enough to surprise contemporaries since it emphasises ‘that men thought that no such marvel had ever been seen before’.61 Contrary to the rest of the world, Icelandic rivers are presently not navigated due to fast-flowing currents and shallow depth; though in the period under study they might have been, since reference to ‘boat on river’ is regulated in Grágás.62 Except that reference, fishing was conducted from the shore mainly using standard fishing gear for such activity as nets, creels, tubs and lines. Concerning the species presented below, it should be pointed out that they are all migratory, spending part of their life-cycle in marine environments. They are the most important regarding their commercial value. Amongst the riverine species, those from the Salmonidae family have and had a great commercial value. Some are migratory and others are sedentary species and their place in the trade cannot be under-estimated especially with regards to inland trade. Salmon (Salmo salar L) is the best known and Iceland’s salmon rivers are located to the west of glacial river Thjorsa, to the north along the west coast, and in the north as far as the river Laxa in Adaldalur. In the northwest (Westfjords), the northeast, east (Eastfjords), southeast, and in the greatest part of the south there are few salmon rivers worthy of mention. The salmon runs upriver from May to October, mostly during the middle 61 Landnámabók, p. 16 62 Grágás, K§ 184, p. 113

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of the period. The time limit is narrower in many areas, where natural circumstances deviate, i.e. lack of water and low temperatures. High tides and floods can sometimes boost salmon runs. The salmon’s spawning depth is 15-120 centimetres – gravel bottom and minimal current are the most advantageous conditions. Another species within this family is the brown trout (Salmo trutta L) which is found in many lakes and rivers. It spawns in running water and either spends a year or more there before migrating into a lake, or stays in a river for its entire life. The anadromous form, the sea trout, spawns in the river and stays there for 2-5 years before it migrates into the sea, where it feeds for several weeks before returning to fresh water. A sea trout may make several visits to the sea during its life span and can be caught at sea or rivers. Arctic char also known or called Sea Trout (Salvinus alpinus L) is a coldwater species that is mostly found in the lakes and cold mountain rivers in the northwest, nothern and eastern parts of the country, either alone or with brown trout and/or salmon. Char living in lakes may spawn there and spend all their life in a lake environment. There are several forms of lake char; four have been identified in Lake Þingvallavatn. The anadromous form, the sea char, spawns in running water. Like the sea trout, it migrates to the sea and feeds there for several weeks. While at sea, the sea char and sea trout grow at a slower rate than salmon, and feed near to their native rivers whereas the salmon migrates long distances. The best fishing grounds for this species are the colder rivers, in the northwest, north and east. The sea trout is found in rivers in both the south and southwest whereas sea char is more abundant in rivers in other parts of the country where the water temperature is colder in the summer. Both stocks live in salmon rivers, and there are also rivers where sea trout is the dominant species. From what precedes, Iceland and the Faeroes host many species of fish that were available for mercantile purposes at regional, national and overseas levels. It has to be noted that the above section presents a nonexhaustive set of fish, however significant, and which supports both the resource possibilism concept and the thesis that Icelanders and Faeroese could engage in commercial f ishing and develop as economic centres within the wider North Atlantic context. Indeed, it is postulated here, that such availability of resources and the subsequent economic exploitation of them could be at the origin of an economic commonwealth developed by the Icelanders, and to a certain extent the Faeroese, which benefited the inhabitants of the North Atlantic, including the Norwegians.

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Economic Commonwealth: Core and Periphery within the North Atlantic Realm This section’s aim is to introduce the idea of an economic commonwealth rooted in the exploitation of aquatic resources, developed mainly by Iceland and shared by people living and connected to the North Atlantic Ocean. The basis of this commonwealth is firstly built on the common environmental factors and means of subsistence (more dependent on aquatic renewable resources), modes of transportation (sea rather than land), trade and settlement structures (single farms rather than villages, lack of urban centres) and is based on the principle of core (major provider of a resource) and periphery (either the receiver of the core’s resources or participates in the gathering of the resources) where Iceland becomes the core and the rest of the North Atlantic communities its periphery. While it is an established fact that the Lofoten and Vesterålen islands were Norway’s main suppliers of cod in the eleventh century with ‘Vågan as a natural centre of this ‘industry’’, fishing there was seasonal and that it certainly did not produce enough surpluses for a full control of that trade. Norway’s aim was to monopolise fish trade, as would the Hansards and Hollanders from the fourteenth century onwards. Yet, and as demonstrated above, there were enough assets for the development of an economic model based on the exploitation of marine and riverine resources with Iceland as the core – and until AD 1035 the Faeroes – at its centre and Norway acting as a periphery or intermediate zone gathering fish and other aquatic resources (whales, seals, shark oil) from Iceland and the Faeroes and incorporating them within its commercial network. Economic links within such a model are developed horizontally rather than vertically, for core and intermediate zones which form the periphery can be permutated at will according to the resources exchanged or traded. This flexible economic model can also include subordinate economic zone(s) which has a dual role. As an end receiver of goods and as a main supplier of luxuries and can be adapted to specific economic exchanges. Yet, in the case of the Scandinavian expansion of the ninth-tenth centuries, it appears that the model core-periphery-subordinate would fit better economic exchanges in the North Atlantic and between the various polities.For instance, Greenland received grain and timber from Norway via Iceland; Greenlandic furs and walrus ivory reached firstly Iceland and then Norway, while Icelandic fish was sent to both Greenland, its most marginal periphery and Norway. Such inter-connection between core, intermediate and subordinate zones can be adpated according to geographical location and objects of trade. For instance, economic interaction is also best seen through the trade of grain

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in North-Western Europe countries as for grain, beans and peas that were exchanged for fish and timber. From that, it is possible to reconstruct a similar route using fish from Iceland and probably from the Faeroes and entering the European market via Bergen as follow prior to 1158 when Hansa Kontors took over the fish trade in Northern Europe and Scandinavia. Hence, Icelandic and, to a lesser extent, Faeroese fish, became a Norwegian product for it was traded by Norway until the mid-twelfth century; this explains why there is no record of Icelandic fish for the earliest period under study in the present study. Economic Patterns from the Later Iron Age to the Medieval ­Period Writing in 1918, the economist Isaac Loos claimed that ‘economics’ search for and describe the rules, ethics or laws that motivate human activity in pursuit of a living whereas economy designates any activity that has for its objective the securing of a living.63 He has also pointed out that both terms were often used interchangeably.64 Furthermore, he claimed that economic organisation was the first form of social organisation. The present section is a perfect example of Loos’ ‘interchangeably’ description of the terminology used by economists and applied to late Iron Age to early medieval dynamics. To propose a realistic historical reconstruction of how a part of Iceland and the Faeroes population based their system on the exploitation of renewable resources, economic anthropology models are used to generate a matrix applicable to both groups of islanders in particular, and to the North Atlantic in general. Furthermore, particular attention is paid to natural resource economics theories which, according to Allen Kneese, ‘recognize that certain special characteristics of natural resources require theories that account explicitly for these characteristics’.65 The first point that needs to be asserted is that fishing communities in later Iron Age and early medieval Iceland and Faeroes cannot be set aside from agricultural communities, since both societal groups interacted. There existed – and still exist – inextricable links between fishing and farming groups with food production systems being a key aspect of their socio-economics relationships. As elsewhere, the securing of households’ nutritional intake was the primary concern of inhabitants of Iceland and the Faeroes and the economic differentiation in ecosystem exploitation can be ascribed to their perception of their environment. Alexander N. Radishchev stressed that ‘all of 63 Loos, ‘Historical Approach to Economics’, pp. 549-550. 64 Loos, ‘Historical Approach to Economics’, p. 549. 65 Kneese, ‘The Economics of Natural Resources, p. 281.

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a person’s household activities depends on his natural environment’, hence it can be argued that the variability in the economic exploitation of the natural surroundings can be pictured through the study of this environment.66 Contrary to land exploitation – cultivation and grazing – aquatic resources in the period under study were not depleted, although momentary ‘disappearance’ of the species due to climatic conditions and/or diseases cannot be ruled out.

Emergence of an Original Icelandic Economy or Scandinavian Continuity? The economic success of settling groups is directly linked to both environmental resilience and the human adaptability of the resources exploited. As noted by Worster, communities organised to harvest the sea may have very different institutions, gender roles or seasonal rhythms than those raising livestock in high mountain pastures.67 Developing an economy based on aquatic systems, moreover, involves a capacity for the management of the species exploited in terms of stock and catch. In fact, there is a fundamental difference between obtaining fish sporadically and the procurement of aquatic resources as a regular staple that can provide for industrial exploitation. Commercial exploitation of species is related to human understanding of the species’ ecosystem cycle and human responses to the natural cycle of these species in terms of catching rounds. However, whereas modern human economic activity and ecosystems sustainability can be measured, past activities and fish stocks are not quantifiable especially when data are lacking as in the case of both Iceland and the Faeroes. The only data available concern payment of ‘taxes’ regarding the amount of fish due to the church by each fisherman, or the taxes paid by each freeman to the district.68 Emergence of economic networks within definite ecosystems is a key factor in the economic resilience of human groups. Exchanges between terrestrial and water end users contributed to the development of social networks. In the later Iron Age to early medieval Iceland, the social organisation shows the existence of free men who were not attached to any households and who hired their services to both farmers and fishing farms. This group played a role in the equilibrium of economic 66 Radishchev in Smyntyna, ‘The Environmental Approach to Prehistoric Studies: Concepts and Theories’, pp. 44-59. 67 Worster, ‘Doing Environmental History’, p. 293. 68 DI, Vol. 4, p. 181

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activities between core and periphery as will be discussed below. Such an organisation was an import from Scandinavia. Late Iron Age Norse adopted a ‘green foot-blue foot’ economy in which both terrestrial and aquatic ecosystems provided for the day-to-day subsistence. Indeed, the interface between aquatic and terrestrial exploitation is visible in both the seasonal cycle and the gender exploitation of ecosystems as discussed below. Furthermore, those who extracted a living from aquatic exploitation lived in a landscape covering various ecozones, hence diversity in their economy. Iceland’s settlers organised themselves into sea harvesters and land farmers. The sea-land spatial interaction must be studied through the economic prism of the inhabitants. Although an ‘economic’ class founded on marine and riverine exploitation emerged, they still exploited land and livestock as a buffer against poor fishing and for the conduct of their activity. Fishing communities needed terrestrial products for their activities – sails were woven from sheep wool, lines were plaited with horse hair – while farmers used seaweed and fish remains as manure and consumed aquatic staples.

An Atlantic Economic Commonwealth Although perceived as isolated, Iceland and the Faeroes played a key role in the creation of an Atlantic Commonwealth based on the exploitation of marine resources and transatlantic shipping routes. As W.R. Mead pointed out, ‘Iceland lives by exchanging the product of the sea by way of the sea’.69 Iceland’s mercantile fishing most certainly occurred at Landnám (Settlement period) and played a key role in the economic development of Iceland. The founding of a centrally planned economy based on marine and riverine exploitation – and including Iceland, Norway and Norwegian colonies of the North Atlantic – enabled its participants to supply Europe until the rise of the Hansards, Hollanders and the Baltic fish trade in the late fourteenth century. While such an economic system implies that most key decisions on production were taken by a central authority, in this case Norway until 1380 and subsequently Denmark, it does not mean that all economic decisions were taken systematically at central level. For instance, it is proposed here that countries within the Commonwealth were considered as subordinate states able to initiate their own production and trade decisions so long as they complied with the interest of the whole. 69 Mead, ‘Iceland Renaissance’, p. 136.

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This left enough room for each participant to develop its own economic strategies as well as a network of suppliers and customers. Regulation of what was available for trade and at which prices remained the responsibility of the state and, in the case of early medieval Iceland, the Alþíng and þíng as discussed below.

Emergence of Specialised Workers The development of an economy has a definite effect on the social organisation of those participating in that economy. Hierarchisation of fishing related activities most certainly emerged within decades of the Settlement. Availability of fish off Iceland and the Faeroes rendered possible the launching of fishing at an industrial level with specialisation of a segment of the population as ‘sea workers’; additionally, regionalisation in the species exploited cannot be ruled out. The socio-economic role of Icelandic fishermen and those involved in aquatic exploitation played a key part in the economic development of Iceland. However, the development processes Figure 4 Cyclical activities related to commercial exploitation of fish

• Professional workers • Women • Occasional workers

• Fishermen • Harpooners

Providing the resurces

Processing

Selling & Networking • Ship Masters • Permanent Crew Members • Occasional Labour Force

• Traders • Goði

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at work have never been fully investigated and almost nothing is known about Iceland and Faeroese ‘sea workers’ during the period under study. The central idea in the graph (Figure 4) is to show the cyclical activities involved in commercialisation of fish and to propose the various sea workers by categories involved within commercial fishing. Yet, occasionally, some men could have accumulated more than one function, as, for instance, traders who could also be ship masters, or fishermen who could be traders. There also existed a category of men who are not acknowledged as being fishermen or farmers but just ‘free folks’ travelling by boat and engaged in professional fishing who had to join a household if they wanted to benefit from the Quarter law and its legal regulations.70 Furthermore, Icelandic law requested that fishermen living in such fishing stations and taking with them ‘woman of childbearing age’ had to be selfsufficient regarding their subsistence.71

Exploiting Renewable Resources for Commercial Purposes The fishing grounds for the four most important species (cod, haddock, herring, saithe) are located all around Iceland. Cod and haddock f ishing grounds are to be found off the whole island, herring’s grounds are mostly located on the northern part of the east coast and saithe are found around the Westfjords and along the west coast of Iceland. While these grounds have been identified using modern day records of fishing grounds, these species are not new inhabitants and their presence for the period researched cannot be denied. Jóhann Bárðarson published a map of deep water fishing grounds, Djúpmið, and non-deep water ones or ‘outlying’ banks (named in relation to their land proximity), Útmið, for the region of Bolungarvík in the Vestifirðir (North West of Iceland), showing each farm’s fishing banks.72 Though it is a modern map construct (1900-1940), it is possible to trace back medieval and settlement fishing grounds. For instance, Landnámabók notes that Thorolf Brækir ‘took possession of parts of Skutilsfjord and Skalavík in the Vestfirðir’.73 In the map showing the settlers’ farm, Thorolf’s place is located in Arnarnes, which happens to be an ‘outlying’ fishing station with deep water fishing grounds up to 45 km 70 Grágás I, K§ 78, p. 128. 71 Grágás II, K§ 217, p. 264. 72 Bárðarsson, Áraskip, Fiskiveiðar í Bolungarvík fyrir 40 árum, Ísafoldarprentsmiðja. 73 Landnámabók, p. 70.

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off the coast and outlying banks stretching from ca. 10km off the coast and joining the deep water banks. It could therefore be argued that from the earliest period onwards, fishing banks were known and have been continuously exploited through the ages. For those not mentioned usually, the hypothesis stands still that fishing was industrial and regionalised except for mackerel, which shares the most common species grounds mentioned above. A modern estimation noted that the catches per unit area of Icelandic fishing grounds are about twice that of the Barents Sea, two and a half that of the Grand Banks and nearly three times that of the North Sea.74 This estimate allows the reasonable claim that Icelandic and Faeroese waters were very rich and fertile during the period under study although there is no datum about the species’ quantity. Present in the Faeroese waters are European Eel, Mackerel, Roker and Tunny as noted previously. Regarding Mackerel, its invisibility at least in the written sources is strange since it is present in Icelandic waters too with a high commercial value; its size certainly placed the species as a regional and national staple. There is no doubt that if all the species discussed above were traded, not all were destined for overseas markets. Some of them could not be prepared as a dried product, for such processing requires ‘very specific climatic parameters’.75 The air drying process is at its best with sub-zero temperature with ‘low humidity and wind’. Cod, of all gadidae, remains the best for such processing, and there is little doubt that fish from the gadiformes order could be traded with more than two hundred species belonging to the codfish family.76 However, species needed to have a certain size in order to be a) processed and b) sold as dried fish. As noted, a ca. 0 °C temperature with very small differences between day and night temperatures was required with a fish size of a minimum of 60 cm long without the head and a maximum of 3-4 kg, which for cod correspond to specimen aged 4-5 years, since, from their sixth year, average weight is between 6-7 kilos for an average full length of more than 80 cm.77 Indeed, the quality of the product was – and still is – of high importance for the development of the trade.

74 Arnarson, The Icelandic Fisheries, Evolution and Management of a Fishing Industry, p. 9. 75 Perdikaris, From Chiefly Provisioning to State Capital ventures: The transition from Natural to Market Economy and the commercialization of cod fisheries in Medieval Arctic Norway, p. 72. 76 Kurlansky, Cod: a biography of the fish that changed the world, p. 37. 77 Kurlansky, Cod: a biography of the fish that changed the world.

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Icelandic and Faeroese Merchants? Most debates focused on ‘Norwegian’ over-lordship of Iceland and the question of whether Icelanders were merchants or not tends to be inconsequential in discussions relating to Icelandic trading activities. Yet, this is an issue that must be addressed if we are to understand what economic development Viking Iceland went through and how this affected its social organisation and political ties both with what seems to be its most important trading partner, Norway, but also with Christian Europe. The adoption of Christianity in c. 1000 by Icelanders undoubtedly smoothed their mercantile relationships with ‘þeir menn er prim-signaðer vóro […]’ (those men that were prime-signed) in the sense that it was common custom amongst merchants dealing with Christians to take the cross ‘þvi at pat vás pá micell siðr bæðe með caup-maonnom […]’ ([…] for it was then a common custom (to adopt Christianity) with merchants […]’),78 Gisli saga also recalls that: ‘Gisli and his companions were marked with the cross, for it was much the wont in those days of all who went on trading voyages […]’.79 Furthermore, Guðmundar saga dýra speaks of a man loading his ferry each summer with ‘feast-day’ foodstuff – amongst them fish – to sell to the district’s farmers.80 It is one thing to discover and exploit aquatic resources at regional and national levels and quite another to enter and remain in an overseas trading network. People in both continental Europe and the British Isles have exploited marine resources since prehistoric times. Scandinavians, English and Continental Europeans were involved in such trade since early times and had established markets and trading partners all over Europe and the British Isles prior to the arrival of the Icelanders. What enabled Icelanders, and to a certain extent Faeroese, to enter that trade was the abundance of species available all year round as shown above. Medieval merchants and craftsmen gathered in guilds and corporations. Guilds were highly regulated and protectionist as were the corporations. Belonging to a guild was essential for anyone who embarked on mercantile activities and Pirenne highlighted that ‘the company […]was composed of ‘brothers’ bound together by an oath of fidelity’.81 For instance, Gisli saga mentions that Gisli, Vestein and Bjalf entered a ‘fellowship’ prior to their trading journey and Eyrbyggja saga speaks of trading partnerships 78 79 80 81

Egil saga, K§ 50. Gisli saga, K§ 5. Guðmundar saga dýra, K§ 5, p. 169. Guðmundar saga dýra, K§ 5, p. 95.

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as described by Pirenne. This would tend to confirm that Icelanders were actively engaged in trade and that their network was not only embedded in the economic commonwealth but also other European counterparts. Despite the fact that it remains difficult to uncover Icelandic guilds since, to date, none has been identified, perhaps because Icelanders never formed guilds of their own and integrated existing guilds, most probably Norwegian ones; merchants and merchants’ association are present in primary sources. The first mention of Icelandic merchants is recorded for the year 1096 and concerned tax payment. Merchants had remittance of tax payment when away from Iceland on the condition that they publicly announced their departure as mentioned above. Taxes were due for periods between six months to one year and were paid according to the time spent in the country. Merchants had their taxes calculated according to the length of time they spent abroad and at home; this had to be declared in accordance to the laws prevailing where their homestead was and ‘in so far that is proclaimed at the assembly’.82 Faeroes seamen and traders are almost absent from documentary sources though there exists, however, a few accounts of Faeroese merchantmen, mostly in sagas. In that connection, maritime journeys to and from the Faeroes Islands appear to have been regular. For instance, Thrond is reported to travel to Norway ‘albeit he had little merchandise’, while merchantmen journeyed to Haleyre in Denmark in the summer which was ‘the greatest gathering of men of all the Northlands while the market stands’.83 In addition, a Norwegian from Tunsberg came to the Faeroes Islands where he spent the winter before continuing his journey in the spring which confirms that the Faeroes were used by Norwegians as a stopping point.84 Moreover, it seems that Faeroese travelled to the Baltic, ‘east to the Wick, and thence to Denmark and through Eyre Sound and right into the East Sea’.85 There is also the case of ‘Hrafn the Limerick-trader’ who wedded an Icelander and settled there.86 Though he was not Icelandic, it is likely he continued his trading activity linking Iceland to Limerick. The few accounts referring to Faeroes traders and seamen must be put in correlation with the archipelago’s low population which amounted to around 4000 in the late 1320s.87 Moreover, both winds and oceanic currents as described above did not ease Faeroes circumnavigating. 82 DI, Vol.I, pp. 125-127. 83 The Saga of Thrond of Gate, commonly called Færeyinga Saga, chapt. 2. 84 The Saga of Thrond of Gate, commonly called Færeyinga Saga, chapt. 2. 85 The Saga of Thrond of Gate, commonly called Færeyinga Saga, chapt. 2, p. 18. 86 Landnámabók, p. 41. 87 Arge et al., ‘Viking and Medieval Settlement in the Faroes: People, Place and Environment’, p. 601.

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Regulating the Trade and Fishing Rights: Sea and Riverine Rights In this section, emphasis is made on the rights attached to both sea and rivers. Although regulations do not seem to have been created for sea professionals, Grágás shows that drifting rights and fishing on ‘common grounds’ were adopted to favour non-professionals; besides, it appears that no ‘commercial value’ was ever attached to those catches. This could be understood as protectionism towards professional fishermen which again would validate the theory of the development of industrial fishing in early medieval Iceland. As already mentioned, the sea was perceived as the natural continuation of the land; the main issue being with the exploitation of ‘common’ fishing grounds off the coasts. These ‘common’ grounds depended on the quarter they were attached to, were located in some coastal areas and men of the same quarter were allowed to exploit the natural resources at set seasons. In all probability, such legal provision did not concern professionals of the sea but farmers and tenants who were then able to catch for their annual household consumption. In economic terms, such regulation relieved them from paying for foodstuffs and it also enabled them to learn fishing practices and perhaps to turn ‘professional’ at some point. To come back to legal distance, it seems that no privileges existed ‘outside the net laying line’, and that anyone could fish there ‘and own his one catch’ such as foreigners who are acknowledged in Grágás as those not ‘sharing our language’ – Old Icelandic/Norse was spoken in Norway, Denmark and Sweden. Not surprisingly exception was made for the inhabitants of the Faeroes, Shetland, Orkney, Caithness and the Hebrides, which were Norse polities and interacted both economically and politically with Norway. Sea-tenure systems were ownerships of the land expanded and applied to the sea, up to the distance known as the net-laying line, which suggests that ‘sea-owners’ were de facto the powerful chieftain-landowners. This certainly originated at Settlement when f ishing was f irstly carried from the homestead before specif ic places were singled out. This also suggests that aquatic resources were mainly exploited by chieftains who increased their income and power. Men were legally authorised to catch outside the net laying line at low tide without incurring a penalty. If this helped men to increase their catch, low tide is certainly not the best condition for high level catch and thus protects professional f ishermen. As for river f ishing, as rivers could be owned by two people and, as seen with sea-tenure, river’s owners had rights of exploitation according to their land ownership.

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Trading Network As noted by Kosiba et al., the end of the Viking Age – tenth-eleventh century – witnessed the emergence of a trading network that influenced the growth of an inter-regional market economy and opened the path for new relationships based on mercantile exchange.88 In the countries that interest us, the pre-requisite for the foundation of such a network existed as early as the settlement period as discussed below. National-Regional Trade, Markets and Fair: Alþíng og Þíng Essential in any trade is the market or fair and market places and trade often go hand in hand. While European countries had rural and urban centres in which markets and fairs took place, Iceland did not experience urbanisation in such an early period, the first urbanised centre ever recorded as such dates from the late seventeenth to early eighteenth centuries. Actually, Icelandic place-names do not reveal market places either, yet Icelandic lawmakers made legislation for markets, which indicates that they existed.89 In the early thirteenth century, commercial regulations were determined during regional assemblies at which they were made public. The aim of these regulations was to fix selling prices of both foodstuffs and staples such as wax, homespun (cloth), incense and dried fish. The lack of written sources for the earliest period should not deter us from considering that commercial regulations existed prior to the thirteenth century. Chieftains bore legal responsibility for markets held on their land and had to ensure that standard values were applied to foreign merchandise entering the Icelandic markets, that they were not at a higher price than the Icelandic ones, and that foreign merchants did not give ‘measures in false’ so as to dupe customers. The Latin mercatum meant both a gathering of merchants and their gathering place. While Iceland had no urban centres, which are usually associated with markets and fairs, it did have þíng and Alþíng which were held at specific places and regular intervals. These assemblies were trading centres where goðar (leaders) had to maintain turf buð (booth) but more to the point, where ale brewers, craftsmen and merchants had their own booths.90 It should be stressed that only ‘farmers who owned a legislated 88 Kosiba et al., ‘Stable isotopes as indicators of change in the food procurement and food preference of Viking Age and Early Christian populations on Gotland (Sweden)’, pp. 394-395. 89 Grágás II, pp. 286-287. 90 Pulsiano (ed.), Medieval Scandinavia, An Encyclopedia, p. 10-11.

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minimum property (the value of a cow, a boat, a horse or a net for each member of the household) were eligible to participate to assemblies’91 and that by AD 1097 the number of participants at the Alþíng amounted to 4560 although there is no figure for the eleventh century but the estimate size of the population in the twelfth-fourteenth centuries is generally set at 60-80 000.92 There were three main assemblies held in seasonal order, the Várþing or Spring assembly starting ‘by the end of the fourth week of summer’, the Alþing or General assembly taking place ‘when ten weeks of summer have passed’ and the Leið or Autumn Assembly ‘when eight weeks are left of the summer’; and Grágás II stipulates that ‘each commune men are to have meeting every autumn, not earlier than when four weeks of summer are left’ which was between 13-19 September.93 Of the seventeen ‘places of importance in the Middle Ages’ mapped by K. Hastrup, thirteen were Várþing, two were bishoprics – Skáholt in the south and Hólar in the north, one was the Alþing – nearby Reykjavík – and one was ‘The lava field of misdeeds’ – Odáðahraun, north of Dyngjfjöll.94 With regards to the þing sites, six were coastal sites, five were located within ca. 0-50 km radius of the coasts and by a river, and two were within ca. 60-100km radius of the coast and by a river. These large assemblies were also trading centres where goðar (leaders) had to maintain turf buð (booth) but, more to the point, where ale brewers, craftsmen and merchants had their own booths.95 These assemblies were an alternative to the continental model of ‘town-market’ where Icelandic merchants, seamen and chieftains held their business meetings. In addition, these assemblies offered similar advantages to a ‘town-market’: rising of taxes, trade of goods and luxuries, fixing of merchandises’ prices and of Iceland standard values, creation of business networks, legislative councils and engineering (building and care of roads, harbours and bridges). Settlement patterns were associated to diverse aspects of society, economic, cultural or ideological life and Iceland’s dispersed settlement patterns did not prevent the development of economic and political systems with þíng and Alþíng efficiently substituting to European continental towns and villages. Only ‘farmers who owned a legislated minimum property (the value of a cow, a boat, a horse or a net for each member of the household) were eligible 91 Pulsiano (ed.), Medieval Scandinavia, An Encyclopedia, 51. 92 Pulsiano (ed.), Medieval Scandinavia, An Encyclopedia, 125. 93 Grágás I a, pp. 96, 37, 111. 94 Hastrup, Culture and History in Medieval Iceland, An anthropological analysis of structure and change. 95 Pulsiano (ed.), Medieval Scandinavia, An Encyclopedia, pp. 10-11.

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to participate in assemblies’96, and that by 1097 the number of participants at the Alþíng amounted to 456097 with a total population estimated at 20 000-70 000 during the settlement period, c. 870 ±4 and 930.98 Yet, it is commonly agreed that the former figure is too low while the latter is too high and an estimation of 40 000-50 000 is more realistic. Regional trade occurred during mid-summer assemblies that were located in each district. These assemblies were held either on coastal locations or by rivers, which made them accessible to anyone willing to join and again accentuates their role as regional markets. According to Jóhanneson, these district assemblies had two sessions with the skuldaþíng where markets were held ‘as one would expect’.99 Concerning the Faeroes, although there are no early to late medieval records, there are still good grounds to assume that the Faeroese had various assemblies as in Iceland and that trade took place when these were held. Tórshavn, for instance, was the place of the annual Alþíng and each island probably had places dedicated to seasonal assemblies and markets.

Fishing and Settlement Patterns Arnvid Lillehammer stresses that settlement patterns were associated with diverse aspects of society, economic, cultural or ideological life.100 Modelling of settlement patterns as a reflection of the economic activity of the inhabitants is demonstrable through the observation of the spatial organisation of both subsistence and non-subsistence strategies developed by the settlers. In fact, any landscape is structured by spatial layout and the association of both ecosystems and soil occupation that are connected to it. In the present case, it is the relation with sea and rivers that should be integrated in the spatial layout of the settlements. Instead of being considered as an ‘utmark’, 96 Pulsiano (ed.), Medieval Scandinavia, An Encyclopedia, p. 51. 97 Pulsiano (ed.), Medieval Scandinavia, An Encyclopedia, p. 125. There is no estimation for the eleventh century but the estimate size of the population in the twelfth-fourteenth centuries is generally set at 60-80 000. 98 Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking, Feud, Law and Society In Saga Iceland, p. 16; Byock, Viking Age Iceland, p. 55; Ólafsdóttir, Land Degradation and Climate in Iceland, A spatial and temporal assessment, p. 5. 99 Jóhanneson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, Íslendinga Saga, pp. 80-81. 100 Lillehammer, ‘Farm and village, the problem of nucleation and dispersal settlement seen from a Norwegian perspective’, in Fabech and Rijngtved (eds.), Settlement Landscape, Proceedings of a conference in Ǻrhus, Denmark, May 4-7,1998, p. 135.

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the settlement ‘expands’ in the sea where it gathered its wealth and power and there is no discontinuity between land and water.101 Preusser notes that by the late twentieth century the settled area of Iceland was smaller than in the late tenth century probably reflecting changing patterns in ecodynamics due to both environmental changes and economic activities.102 Land deterioration due to high grazing pressure together with unfavourable environmental and climatic conditions such as volcanic eruptions, or cooler and longer winters, perhaps pushed more farmers to turn to fishing as a substitute economy to agriculture.103 Bjarni Einarsson, who has extensively researched Icelandic farm architecture, has explained the settlement of Iceland in terms of ecological theories and ways of thinking.104 Einarsson has demonstrated that the Norwegian settlers imported to Iceland not only their artefacts but also their architectural models. Thus, the study of these features enabled Einarsson to determine if the settlers were ‘farming’ or ‘fishing-hunting’ orientated or both. According to him, those who emigrated from the northern parts of Norway built turf walls and were more fishermen than farmers, whereas the southern emigrants were farmers building stone walls.105 Yet, the raw material available in Iceland certainly limits such analysis. Although both turf and stone were present, the quantity of turf versus stone in wall-building fluctuates as to the availability of resources.106 Archaeological and paleo-environmental research has shown that the settlers’ choice of coastal sites or river valleys, especially in the south and west regions of Iceland, was based on the availability of wetland and fodder resources in order to sustain livestock over the winter period.107 It seems that the clearance of woodland for agricultural and fuel purposes by the settlers, together with intensive livestock grazing, left Iceland nearly bare of its wooded cover within a century of c. 870. Following the same thinking, it can be argued that settlements in the Westfjords and North of Iceland were driven by the most available resource which was the sea and its inhabitants. 101 The ‘utmark’ concept ‘is associated with the farm concept and settlement research history in referring to pasture and unfenced field’. Lillehammer, ‘The Past in the Present. Landscape Perception, Archaeological Heritage and Marginal Farmland in Jæren, South-western Norway’, p. 164. 102 Preusser, The landscapes of Iceland: Types and Regions, p. 71. 103 Preusser, The landscapes of Iceland: Types and Regions, p. 73. 104 Einarsson, The Settlement of Iceland: A Critical Approach, Granastaðir and the Ecological Heritage, p. 15. 105 Einarsson, The Settlement of Iceland: A Critical Approach, Granastaðir and the Ecological Heritage, p. 111. 106 Buckland et al., ‘An insect’s eye-view of the Norse Farm’, in Batey, Jesch and Morris, (eds.), The Viking Age in Caithness, Orkney and The North Atlantic, p. 510. 107 Simpson, et al., ‘Fuel resource utilisation in landscapes of settlement’, p. 1401.

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High Status Farm – Coastal and Inland A high-status farm was the seat of both temporal and spiritual powers. At Landnám, powerful chieftains had built a temple – ON, hof – on their land close to their long-house; with the arrival of Christianity, c. 1000, pagan temples were turned into Christian churches. In his survey of place names related to hof, Jóhannesson’s mapping show that pre-Christians temples are found everywhere except the northeastern corner of Iceland. 108 Therefore, it would appear possible that Christian high-status farms in that area originated in pre-Christian times. Architectural attributes of a high-status farm were particular to such a settlement. Their idiosyncrasy was that they both exploited sea and land resources since the Icelandic law required that to establish a ‘f ishing village’, its inhabitants had to be milk producers.109 Such a rule favoured chieftains owning vast farms and consequently affected who could not only set-up f ishing stations (seasonal or permanent) but also develop livestock rearing which in turn f its the ‘green foot-blue foot’ Norse economic model. However, such farms did not land or process catches. These activities were conducted either from a lower ranked settlement or f ishing station(s). A high-status farm possessed a network of tributary settlements which could spread over vast distances. These satellite farms were engaged in the ‘green foot’ activity, although they could fish for their personal consumption. The terrestrial and fishing activities of such a farm consequently limited it from an economic failure. From tributary agricultural farm(s) provided livestock – milking or meat cattle – that could be sold at markets, selling of dairy products, production of váðmal, land rent for the use of grazing belonging to the high-status farm, and the annual taxation (tithes owed to the Church and the landowners). Finally, although the farm described here extracted its wealth from the exploitation of marine resources, it could be located along either the coast or more inland. The sine qua non condition for success lying in the specialisation of the economy (as shown in the graph below, Figure 5), the capacity of owning coastal places and the ability of developing its economic activity rather than the geographic location of the high-status farm.

108 Jóhannesson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, Íslendinga Saga, p. 57. 109 Jóhannesson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, Íslendinga Saga, p. 305.

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Figure 5 Schema of economic exploitation of aquatic ecosystems by high status farm

High Status Settlement

Off Coast Fishing station(s) Full Ownership

In Fjords Fishing station(s) Full/Half Ownership

Overseas & Regional Fish trade Lease of Boats, fishing gears Taxes Tithes Currency

Homefield/Meadow

Riverine Fishing Full ownership

Fodder for milking cattle

Peat Cutting Fuel

Household Consumption

Regional Trade

Fishing rights Fishing gears Internal trade

Mid-Rank Farm Mid-rank farms were coastal and belonged to a high-status farm. Manned either by free-holders who rented them from the main farm or belonged to a member of the high-status household, their economic purpose was the development of commercial fishing. Mid-rank farms share the same architectural attributes of high status settlements except that they had no church or cemetery. Besides, and as discussed below, meadow (grass Figure 6 Schema of economic exploitation of aquatic ecosystems by mid-rank status farm

Homefield/Meadow Sheep/cattle

Mid-Rank Status Settlement

Off Coast Fish-hunting

In Fjords Fishing station

Employed by High Status Farm Keep a share of the catches Sub-employed labour force

Riverine Fishing Subsistence

Regional Trade

Internal trade Exchange part of the share

Peat Cutting Fuel

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growing for cattle) and cattle byre, were not necessarily present since the high-status farm produced milk. A shed to house sheep and a few cows is part of their architectural attributes. Such a farm was located along the coast near f ishing grounds and migratory routes; it possibly managed fishing stations too – both seasonal and permanent – for the benefit of the chieftains; the wealth extracted via these mid-rank farm played an essential role in the economic development of the high-status farms as shown below (Figure 6). Fishing Stations Located along the coasts, some fishing stations were permanently settled by f ishermen and their family while others were seasonal, both types belonging to a high-status farm and managed either by the high status or mid-rank status farm. The main difference being that in return for a fee payment and possibly a share of the catch, crews from different localities were allowed to gather and to base their fishing activity from there as noted in Grágás.110 The term útver – outstation – is noted in Diplomatarium Islandicum for the year 1367, yet it cannot be ruled out that such a station did not exist earlier since fiskver – fishing station – is mentioned in 1314.111 However, it must be noted that Egil saga recalls that such f ishery was already in use at the latest in c. 1220-1240, at the time of the writing.112 With regards to settlement patterns and fishing grounds, L. Kritjánsson highlights that landowners sometimes declared at the church or during varþing (local spring assembly) all the grounds offshore their land out of bounds to others.113 Names, location at sea and directions to reach these fishing banks were recited via verses known as miðavísur, ‘ground verses’, and leiðavísur, ‘guide verses’.114 The architectural attributes of permanent fishing stations should comprise structures for both fishermen, fishing boats and gears. Permanent fishing stations provided year-round catches in order to sustain the economic activity of the high-status farm; it could also welcome free-fishermen who joined the fleet.

110 Grágás I, K§ 78, p. 128. 111 DI, Vol. 3, pp. 235, 302; Vol, 2, p. 394. 112 Egil saga, pp. 48-49. 113 Kristjásson, Íslenzkir Sjávarhættir, Vol.1, pp. 167-169. 114 Kristjásson, Íslenzkir Sjávarhættir, Vol.1, pp. 194-200.

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Figure 7 Schema of economic exploitation of aquatic ecosystems by permanent fishing station

Permanent fishing station Processing centre

Possible small Homefield For milking cattle

Off Coast Fish-hunting

Peat Cutting Fuel

Belongs to High Status Farm Keep a share of the catches Sub-employed labour force

Modelling settlement patterns adds to the understanding of socio-economic organization of communities since they reflect the economic system developed by their inhabitants. The survival of Landnám settlements in both Iceland and the Faeroes eases understanding of both their economic developments and roles in a broader context. It is proposed that the use of space in the landscape varied according to the economic occupations of the farms, and that three kinds of settlements emerged: high status farm, mid-rank farm and fishing stations, permanent and seasonal. Within these three main groups, the possibility of sub-grouping between free-holders and household members adds another layer to the socio-economic organization of these settlements. The fact that high-status and mid-rank farms retained ‘green foot’ architectural attributes is not incompatible with their ‘blue’ economy for it was related to the households’ needs. Besides, for those willing to develop a fishing settlement but who did not own dairy cattle, the possibility of ‘hiring livestock from someone with a lawful hire agreement’ so as to comply with the legal framework, necessitated a homefield and/or meadow to produce enough grazing for this livestock.115Within these farms, all households’ members were economically active and their activities were gender orientated. 115 Grágás, K§ 224, p. 166.

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Figure 8 Economic exploitation of ecosystems by gender Men

Common to both Gender

Women

Off coast, In-fjords and riverine fishing Boat construction Boat repairs

Arable cultivation

Shielings & Satellite farms

Hay production and grains

Fishing booths and boat shed constructions/repairs Dwelling constructions/ repairs International trade Winter slaughter

Fish processing

Dairy production Fodder Summer pastures Weaving Sail sewing/repairs Vaðmal

Fishing net repairs Livestock management

Regional trade Storage and goods

Gender Exploitation of Ecosystems The gender exploitation of ecosystems is an important feature of any society and both Iceland and the Faeroes do not depart from this principle. Division of tasks according to gender played a role in the social relationships developing between individuals and groups as shown below (Figure 8). The social organisation of people whose economy is based on fishing has been researched by maritime anthropologists who have formulated theories on the role and place of both men and women in those communities. Yet, no analysis has so far been done for the period and locations under study here.116 Women and youngsters were involved in land work as elsewhere in Scandinavia. Livestock transhumance to shieling areas was done by young men under the age of 16 which was the age when a boy became a man since he was, by law, allowed to settle his own residence, while women were responsible for the making of dairy products which contributed to the daily diet.117 The spring and summer seasons were used to repair houses, byres, homefield walling and to spread dung over that field.118 Such activities were male orientated and usually done by free-men who were not attached to any particular household and who travelled in Iceland offering their services in return for food and shelter.119 116 Study of burials could provide information on the population of the sites used in the present work. 117 Cheese and butter were also made in the autumn as noted in Grágás II, K§ 430, p. 359. 118 Grágás II, K§ 181, p. 111, K§ 314, p. 301, K§ 372, p. 320. 119 Grágás II, K§ 181, p. 111, K§ 314, p. 301, K§ 372, p. 320.

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The Old Icelandic calendar, moreover, is built around farming activity. For instance, August-September were referred to as kornskuðarmánuðr or corn shearing month, September-October as Haustmánuðr or harvest season; April-May as Sáðtíð or sowing season; May-June as Stekktíð or the time when the lambs are kept in folds, and lastly June-July as Selmánuðr or the month in which milk cattle are removed to the sel (shed on a mountain pasture i.e. shieling).120 Within this calendar, and contrary to agriculture activities, it appears that no ‘fishing’ period is mentioned. This could be regarded as either a lack of professional fishing as suggested earlier or that fishing happened all year round. If, indeed, fishing occurred year-round, then part of the work force specialised in such an activity while the rest of the male population worked in both sectors: agriculture and aquatic exploitation. The social organisation of these fishing communities differed from that of the agriculturalists. During the high-sea fishing season, farms were emptied of the male labour force, which also explains why fishing farms exploiting more the sea than the soil had less land. Although it can be argued that fishing activities are not mentioned in the calendar, the fact that aquatic resources were available all year round might explain why they are not ‘calendared’.

Church and Fish The political and economic power of the church is indisputable but definitely linked to that of the goði. Before the Christianisation of Iceland c. 1000, all goði were also pagan priests who held both spiritual and temporal powers. When they converted to Christianity, they or their sons became clergymen. The taxes that were once paid to the goði, in his position of both priest and landowner, changed name and were then known as tithe as read in Hawk’s bók ‘hverr maðr scylde gefa toll til hofs, sem nú til kircj tiúnd’ (‘each man had to give a tax to the Temple, just as tithe to the church nowadays’). The Icelandic tithe system recognised two different forms of tithes, the ordinary annual tithe amounting to 1% and the capital tithe amounting to 10% of the full value of a debt-free property. The former had to be paid as its name indicates on an annual basis, while the ‘in meiri tíund’ or capital tithe was paid ‘once only for the good of his soul’. In case of property increase or ‘means grow’, the owner was allowed to tithe that increase. Legal tender 120 Morris and Magnússon, The Saga library, p. 191; Zoëga, A concise dictionary of Old Icelandic has been used for translation.

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to pay the tithes had been regulated and only the portion reserved for the needy could be paid in foodstuff and the recipients were to receive it before Martinmas. Tithes paid to the bishops and priests were to be paid with homespun, trade-cloak, lamb fleece, gold or refined silver; the Church tithe was paid in wax, wood, incense, tar or new linen ‘as can be bought for homespun in that district’.121 It is important to note that though dried fish is not specifically named in the ‘food’ category, it seems probable that it was amongst the foodstuff which was accepted in that period. The main diet consisted of dairy products, mutton and fish with cattle being reserved for the non-needy; becoming ‘needy’ was not perceived badly by the population since in most cases this was due to climatic conditions and crop failures. Indeed, the community had to support deprived people and ‘with more given to those whose need is greater’.122 Abbot Arngrimr (d. 1361, from the Benedictine Monastery of Tingeyrar, North of Iceland) recollects that fish from the sea and dairy foods made up the diet of the Icelanders and not only the needy.123 He also highlights that paupers became quite rich from fishing which could validate the postulate that Christianisation boosted fishing activities. However, it appears that links between the exploitation of aquatic resources, rights attached to that, and the Church are difficult to make. Yet, numerous charters and deeds relating to aquatic resources with an emphasis on stranding and fishing rights show that the Icelandic Church might have played a role in the exploitation of sea and riverine resources, and, to a certain extent, the development of an Icelandic fish trade. It cannot be ruled out that the event of Christianisation was of great importance in the medieval diet and by extension the medieval economy. The Christian custom forbidding meat consumption for at least 180 days – amongst them, Lent, Advent and Pentecost, each period covering forty days – saw an increase in the consumption of ‘white’ food including marine and riverine resources. Therefore, it could be argued that the Christianisation of both Iceland and the Faeroes favoured entrepreneurial initiative and diversity within economic practices. If one refers to Diplomatarium Islandicum (DI), it would appear that fishing and whaling rights were mostly owned by churches and bishoprics rather than by laity. Yet, there seems to be a discrepancy between DI and the reality – although the Church became a prominent landowner, the laity still owned land and water portions. 121 Grágás II, K§ 256, p. 224. 122 Grágás II, K§ 256, p. 224. 123 Biskupa sögur, II, p. 79.

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While whaling is beyond the scope of this thesis, the role of taxes received, and income gained through whaling, figured prominently in the ‘blue’ economy developed by the Icelanders. Yet, to return to the Church’s role in the blue economy through fishing ownership, it must be remembered that prior to Christianisation, these lands belonged to chieftains who had built not only farms but also temples, holding both temporal and spiritual powers. When they converted, temples were turned into churches. Hence most salmon rivers and the rights attached to them belonged, after c. 1000, to the Church. However, non-chieftain/clerical landowners remained owners of rivers and sea portions which enabled them to exploit both marine and riverine species, but this is less visible in the DI than in saga materials. To return to salmon fishing, and as already mentioned (chapter 4), the earliest record mentioning it is dated 1140, when a covenant on the possessions of Stafaholts Church in Borgarfirði in the Westfjords, stated that a third of all salmon catches from the waterfall in Norðra belonged to the said church and that was agreed by the Quarter assembly.124 This certainly indicates that salmon was kept for the priest and confirms that salmon was highly ranked compared to cod which was the people’s fish. Whereas there are covenants on fishing taxes to be paid to churches and priests, the oldest document relating to church and priest taxes dates from 1096. Tíundarlög Íslendínga Hin Fornu, does not, however, mention fish taxes. Vaðmal, lambskins with the wool on them, gold, oil, sulphur, silver and marks are given as mediums of payment but there is no mention of marine and riverine species which differs from what has been seen so far.125 However, it must be noted that the income from the drifting-rights owned by the religious houses was certainly more valuable than the tithe For instance, the religious house at Þingeyra in the north of Iceland, which was founded in 1112 collected by 1250 income from fifteen ‘whale drifting-rights’.126 In 1235, Hákon Hákonarsonar lay down a law regarding fishing and consumption of herring that is first mentioned in a covenant of the same year. Subsequently, on 7 September 1249, Pope Innocent issued a bull requiring that all goði had to eat herring, ranking that species amongst the most valuable alongside salmon. Yet, river fishing was regulated as early as 1224, as in the case of Reyc Hollt church that allowed the damming up of the river for salmon catching.127 Although it is not specified who built the retinue as 124 DI, Vol.1, pp. 179-180. 125 DI, Vol.1, pp. 150-155. 126 See Kristjánsson, Vol. 1, pp. 228-233. 127 See Kristjánsson, Vol. 1, pp. 228-233.

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well as who was to benefit from the catch, there is a strong possibility that tax was levied and catching priority given to the priest. This papal bull shows that fish was ranked and that herring had higher social value than cod which remained the folk’s fish. Ranking of food during the medieval period has been theorised by anthropologists and linguists. Food remained a key issue for medieval man who attached values and symbolism to it. As M. Montanari shows, the economic and social nature of food cannot be detached from its psychological symbolism.128 Overall, the medieval population was divided between potens, who could eat more and better, and paupers who ate less and worse. This could be pushed further by attaching a psychological dimension to the quality and quantity of food absorbed, which becomes the ‘window’ of the ‘perpetual and intrinsic’ social condition of the eater. As J. Le Goff highlights, food is, for the dominant class of the society, a means of displaying their superiority.129 Conversely, the pauper has no choice but to deal with his condition, foodstuff being the key factor in his survival. During the early medieval period, meat was the privilege of the potens; they had to eat considerable quantities of meat and wild meaty game. Again, that was part of the display of social status. Yet, there was another food behaviour model in that time, that of the clergy who offered to the world a radical attitude to food: the practice of fast days, frugal eating and avoidance of meat. Yet, as any community, the Church has its own hierarchical system and as within the aristocratic-lay societies, the dominant class had to impose its status to its subordinates. Fish replaced meat but was as representative of the social situation of the eaters as meat was with an ethical valence between meat and fish. By the late ninth century the Icelandico-Norwegian economic commonwealth was developed with the settlement of Iceland, the colonisation of the Faeroes and various locations in the British Isles and mainland. The seizure of an extensive sea area for commercial fishing and opening of trade links between the North Atlantic, the North and Irish seas cannot be dismissed because there is no written evidence to substantiate the theory. The founding of a market situation in which one buyer sought specific resources from several sellers fits Iceland’s economy. The country had few resources that could be exploited and monopolised by traders e.g. sulphur, gyrfalcons and, of course, aquatic resources, both marine and riverine. Anarson claims that Iceland’s economy was never one of free market but was highly regulated by the government. Such government involvement in commercial activities can be traced back to the period under study and all 128 Montanari, ‘Valeurs, Symboles, Messages Alimentaires durant le Haut Moyen Age’, pp. 57-66. 129 Le Goff, La civilisation de l’Occident médiéval, pp. 292, 439.

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the written material relating to fishing and economic activity in general supports Anarson’s statement. Early medieval Iceland’s governing body was manned by chieftains who exercised both spiritual and temporal power over their lands prior to the Christianisation of Iceland. After 1000 and ‘empowerment’ of the Church over Iceland, chieftains still exercised political and economic powers over their estates although they had to ‘govern’ with representatives of the Roman Church. This system allowed chieftains to tightly control markets and commodities entering both the national and foreign markets. Moreover, it seems that an economic alliance between chieftains, influential farmers and the Church emerged in the early eleventh century. Exploitation of Iceland’s natural resources – luxuries and commodities – were a source of income for all of the groups mentioned above. All fish destined for international trade had to be dispatched through Bergen, which was the centre of that trade. According to Justyna WubsMrozewicz, ‘good eastwards location between producers of stockfish [in northern Norway] and the final destination of the products, namely England, Germany, the Low Countries, northern France and the Baltic’, earned Bergen its place as the centre for fish trade; the monopoly was institutionalised c. 1300 by royal decision.130 This de facto ‘monopoly’ implied the establishment of Icelanders in Bergen to control the shipping and entry of Icelandic goods, amongst them fish. On 25 June 1198, in a letter addressed to the bishop of Bergen, Pope Innocent III stated that since merchants from Iceland were also subjected to the Canon laws of Rome, he considered that they should be treated in the same ways as Norwegian merchants having business in Bergen: […] mercatores diocesana tibi lege subjecti, cum eos negociationis causa in Islandiam transfretare contingit […]131 […]to be subject to your diocesan law, the merchants shall be subjects to the law of your diocese, since it pertains they crossed the sea to Iceland for the purpose of commerce […]’

This letter was not the first and it has to be noted that as early as 1174, King Magnús Erlingsson renewed a privilege granted to Icelanders by Norwegian monarchs since 1157 and consisting of the delivery of ‘vectigalia concedimus […] et xxx lest farine ad Islandiam transferendas […]’.132 130 Wubs-Mrozewicz,‘Fish, Stock and Barrel’, pp. 187-208. 131 DI, Vol.1, pp. 297-298. 132 DI, Vol.1, pp. 226-227.

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Icelandic Seafaring Navigation is a key factor in the development of overseas trade and in fishing. As such, a brief analysis of Icelandic seafaring remains a topic of importance for the present work although as it has not been fully researched yet, most of what follows provides a general view. The lack of contemporary documentation regarding Icelandic ships and archaeological remains is mainly responsible for the gap in knowledge. However, doubting that Icelanders were seafarers is an untenable position. Navigation Skills In respect of Norse navigation skills, S. Rose recently claimed that, through sailings in the North Sea and the Channel, the Scandinavians ‘served their apprenticeship and developed the methods’ as the most accomplished seafarers.133 The navigation season in the North Atlantic occurred in early spring to late autumn; it was always subject to climatic conditions, especially drift ice and fog, which happened infrequently if we are to believe the annals, as in 1197 and 1198 when ice blocked navigation to the north of Iceland134, and in 1233 when ice remained there for the whole summer. In 1261 ice was sighted for nearly the whole year and again in 1275 ice surrounded Iceland for most of the year.135 It is commonly accepted that navigation for the period under study was mostly coastal and riverine; yet the discovery of Iceland and the Faeroes could not have happened in such a way and it should be admitted that high sea sailing was therefore common practice in the later Iron Age. There exists a theory suggesting that under certain climatic conditions, sailors could see faraway lands. This weather phenomenon, known as Arctic superior mirage, happens in clear, anti-cyclonic conditions when there is a strong temperature inversion in the marine boundary layer; moreover, it seems that under such conditions ‘land 300-500 km distant may come into sight’.136 Professor Haine from the department of Earth and Planetary Sciences, The Johns Hopkins University (Baltimore) experienced such a mirage, hillingar137 in Old Norse, where he sighted Greenland mountains 133 Rose, The Medieval Sea, p. 41. 134 Jóhannesson, A History of the Old Icelandic Commonwealth, Íslendinga Saga, p. 190. 135 Íslenzk fornrit IV, pp. 281, 290. 136 Haine, ‘What did the Viking Discoverers of America Know of the North Atlantic Environment?’, p. 6. 137 Personal communication.

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from about 100 miles away on a ship. The hillingar effect, which can greatly extend the distance over which an object can be seen and recognised, occurs when light rays are bent gently around the curvature of the earth due to a mild temperature inversion at the earth’s surface. Objects normally below the horizon are ‘lifted’ into view and are seen as if the earth were flat.138 A more complex mirage known as Fata Morgana has been described in literature from Old Norse to modern time.139 Richard Burton travelling to Iceland described the mirage in his travel journal: ‘there is a name for the mirage or heat-reek, Hillingar when rocks and islands look as if lifted ‘up-heaved’ from the level of the sea […]’.140 This phenomenon is a plausible explanation in respect of the Norse’s discovery of Iceland and is certainly more valid than the acknowledged idea that Norse sailors drifted on the high seas until they landed in Iceland. Another testimony from Captain Bartlett, master of the Effie M. Morrissey also validates the previous claim. On 17 July 1939 while his ship was located midway between the tip of South Greenland and Iceland Captain Bartlett identified the high Snæfells Jökull glacier (1438 m/4715 ft), he estimated his distance to those landmarks between 40 to 50 km (25 to 30 miles), yet the actual distance – based on the ship’s actual recorded position – between Effie and the Icelandic summit was 536 to 560 km. Similarly, although the conventional narrative explains the Irish discovery of Iceland ‘by chance’, the presence of Romans and cufic coins as being the results of either wrecks or drifts of both Romans and Arab peoples, there is no reason to rule out these mirages as a medium of these successive ‘discoveries’. Lehn and Schroeder in their discussion of polar mirages and their direct link with the Vestfirðir, North-West Iceland Peninsula, state that for centuries, skerries off the coast of the Vestfirðir – Gunnbjorn Skerries – were used for navigational purpose although they were a product of the optical effect induced by mirages and conclude that ‘their importance lies in the information they conveyed and not on their existence as actual islands’.141 Yet, although these phenomena are not included in historical debates with regards to Norse navigation, fishing and whaling, their role should not be dismissed. While they conceivably did not happen on a regular basis, they probably helped the Norse to build mental sea maps identifying fishing grounds and whales’ migratory routes. 138 Lehn and Schroeder, ‘Polar Mirages as Aids to Norse Navigation’. 139 Davis, Article #347, Alaska Science Forum, Arctic Mirage (Hillingar). 140 Burton, Ultimate Thule or A Summer in Iceland. 141 Lehn and Schroeder, ‘Polar Mirages as Aids to Norse Navigation’, p. 185.

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To return to sea routes, Landnámabók provides data with regards to journeys from Norway to Iceland and Greenland. They seemed to take seven days to sail between Stead in Norway and Horn ‘on the eastward of Iceland, while it took just four days’ sailing between Iceland from Snowfellsness to Cape Wharf, Greenland.142 Details are also provided for journeys to Ireland from Iceland, which indicates contacts between them; though some settlers were Irish, the most probable reason for Irish-Icelandic relationships, after religion, must be trade. Navigation to Norway and the northern district of Trondheim was known by Icelanders, which could be understood as an indication of Icelanders journeying for trading purposes since the places described were known for their markets.143 Ship and Seafaring Regulations With regards to seafaring, it is usually claimed that Iceland had no fleet since it lacked the raw materials, except driftwood, to engage in shipbuilding. Although only three fishing boats – one of them from the Viking Age had two pieces of whalebone – have been recovered for the period under discussion, landing places and boat-booths all around Iceland, have been recorded.144 Moreover, it has to be noted that not only could Icelanders build their ships in Norway they could also exploit wooded areas in any Norse colony. Indeed, there are several references to boats in ancient Icelandic texts as discussed in the previous chapter. A possible route for Icelanders to acquire boats was to purchase them from seafarers as with Hoskuld who bought his ship from a Shetlander who was in Iceland.145 The story reports that Hoskuld’s aim was to reach Norway and landed where the market town of Bergen would later be established. Other examples are found such as in the Saga of the Greenlanders which tells of an Icelandic merchant selling his trading ship when ceasing his merchant activity; the new owner had to hire a crew of thirty-five men to man the ship.146 Emergency repairs were also codified and provision was made for the utilisation of wood from any landing place to repair damaged ‘vessels’ with obligation to inform the owner of the place or the nearest farm to avoid penalty. The wood would have to be valued by witnesses, 142 Landnámabók, p. 16. 143 The Tale of Ögmund Bash, Cannongate (Edinburgh, 1986), p. 138. Gisli Saga, pp. 5, 9. 144 Kristjánsson, L., Íslenzkir Sjávarhættir 2, p. 92. 145 The Saga of the People of Laxardal, The Sagas of Icelanders, p. 286. 146 The Saga of the Greenlanders, p. 638.

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usually the ‘neighbours who live nearest the shore’, the ship’s master(s) being responsible for the payment.147 Seafaring was regulated and a ship could not set sail unless there was on board the number of men required – unfortunately not specified, but comprising of at least twelve men were the minimum required on board a trading ship when Erik Blood-Axe was a teenager.148 In this respect, this regulation is very different from that of the leasing arrangements mentioned above. Ships had to be loaded in accordance with maritime law: three parts submerged and two above the water-line, measured midships.149 Outlaws were immune on board off the coast of Iceland, in huts by the ship and the inhabited islands, which demonstrate that ships, boats and seamen ‘benefited’ from specific regulations which in turn would speak for them being perceived as a ‘class’ apart within the Icelandic societal organisation.150

Iceland and the European Fish Markets The market economy that developed in the tenth and eleventh centuries asked for an adjustment in the consumption and mode of production of trading foodstuffs. Fishing did not differ from that new situation and although it is beside the point to project modern Icelandic fishing developments onto the earlier period, it remains that, as pointed out by R. Arnason, ‘the Icelandic economy is fundamentally organized as a market economy’ that developed in the medieval era.151 International trade prior to the eleventh century between Scandinavian countries and Europe was essentially based on the exchange of grain against wood and fish. With the emergence of the market economy, new countries entered this economic network and redistribution between suppliers and customers emerged. For instance, trade of high quality wool between England and the Low Countries almost fully replaced that between Iceland and England. If Icelandic wool had high waterproof quality, its colour – yellowish – and texture – greasy and rough – did not meet the higher weaving standards and prevented Iceland’s wool entering the English market and 147 Grágás, p. 141. 148 Egil’s saga, p. 57. 149 Grágás II, K§ 166, p. 91. 150 Grágás, p. 93. 151 Arnarson, The Icelandic Fisheries, Evolution and Management of a Fishing Industry, p. 17.

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more importantly the Flemish market which was the major weaving centre in Europe during the period under study. Yet, a record dated 1198 concerning retention of an Icelandic ship, its crew and its cargo of wool by the mayor of Rouen for refusal of tax payment makes clear that Icelanders traded with Continental Europe and in that case, Normandy.152 Icelandic fish traders had to compete with merchants from continental Europe and Scandinavia. For instance, the Scanian herring market retained a monopoly over this species’ trade until the late fourteenth century; Danish fish trade success was mostly due to the creation of autumn fairs by Hansards in 1202; Arnold of Lübeck provides a full description of markets that were found on beaches along the Scanian coast: […] they all became very rich because of the fishing that takes place every year around Scania. When the fishing is taking place, merchants come there from all surrounding nations with gold, silver and other treasures to buy herring from the Danes […]153

Icelandic sagas and Grágás, as already noted, also have such descriptions which, once more, highlights that Icelanders did not differ from their contemporaries and that there was a common trading practice within the Scandinavian and Northern European World. To remain competitive, Icelanders had to develop mercantile protectionist policies. For instance, foreign wares could not be bought at dearer prices ‘than those decided by the three men selected to set them within the limits of each district’.154 These very same men also decided the standard values of timber, wax linen and meal. The same applied to the national fish trade that was handled by Icelandic chieftains. Political tensions over suppliers and buyers of fish in Norway from the late thirteenth and economic disputes between Hansards and Hollanders in the fifteenth century, created many opportunities for the Icelanders to become more independent of Norway and to develop commercial ties with English fishermen and merchants. The 1295 Norwegian’s act forbidding German merchants to trade north of Bergen and directly with Iceland and the Norwegian tributary islands, amongst them the Faeroes, certainly indicates that, firstly, Iceland was economically active with overseas traders, then that Icelandic fish was 152 DI, Vol.1, pp. 718-719. 153 Von Lübeck, Arnoldi Abbatis Lubeccensis Chronica, p. 77. 154 Grágás, p. 93.

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as competitive a product as Norwegian fish, and, lastly, that in order to maintain its monopoly over the European fish trade, Norway had to legally protect it.155 In the Libel of English Policy, the ‘comodius stokfysshe of Yselonde’ brought to England by traders from ‘Bristow’ and ‘Scarborowgh’ are the object of competition between the east and west commercial ports of England, showing that by the f ifteenth century, Icelandic waters were open to European traders and f ishermen. This opening of arctic f ishing grounds was a response to the growth of exploitation of the Baltic by the Hansards and Hollanders from the northern Low Countries and their take-over of the international f ish trade market. In addition, the crisis in cereal cultivation that started in the fourteenth century and the subsequent fall in grain prices that affected European and Scandinavian countries also affected Iceland which depended on Norway for flour supplying as already discussed. Such an economic situation was a factor that pushed farmers towards the commercialisation of fish in order to sustain their households. These factors cannot be dissociated from the intensification of marine exploitation and increase in both suppliers and customers. What enabled Icelanders to take an active part in the European and North Atlantic fish trade was the quantity of fish available all year round rather than its quality, their competitiveness regarding selling price and their ability to penetrate European markets through their economic ties with Norway. By the fifteenth century, Icelanders had established strong commercial ties with England. In 1438, a ‘stokfyshmonger’ from London, Richard Weston, obtained derogation from the Westminster parliament to travel and trade in Iceland. This grant was made on behalf of Henry VI of England and was to be presented to both the archbishops of Skálholt and Hólar. More to the point, still in the late fifteenth century, an agreement between the kings of the ‘northmen’, and the English monarch Henry VII, ‘Norðmanna konungs og Henry VII, Einglakonung’, stipulated that the Italian merchants Fabiani and Sebastiani from Copenhagen were granted permission in perpetuity on fish-hunting and trade fish from Iceland: […] ordinatum est per nos, quod mercatores et hominess legii, Piscatores et quicunque alii Regis Angliæ and Franciæ subdit libere possint temporibus futuris in perpetuum ad insulam Tyle (id est:Islandiæ) cum

155 Diplomatarium Norvegicum, Vol. 5, No.23.

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eorum navibus, bonis et mercandisis, visctualibus […] piscandi sive mercandizandi causa navigare […]156 […] it is ordained by us that the fishermen, merchants and liegemen, fishermen and whomsoever else of the kings of England and France, shall be free perpetually in future times to sail to the island of Thule (that is, Iceland) with their ships, goods and merchandise, victuals, […] for the purpose of fishing or trading […]

This excerpt shows that part of the English f ish trade passed to Italian merchants who had moved their centre from Bergen to Copenhagen. This also enlarges the debate of the f ish trade during the medieval and late medieval period. There were then by the mid-f ifteenth century two important centres for the fish trade, Bergen and Copenhagen; while Bergen traded essentially in cod, Copenhagen was more herring ‘orientated’. In 1251, a royal decree unif ied the herring toll per ship tonnage. Each ship over 12 tons Last or 144 Rostock herring barrels.157 Indeed, the closeness of the Baltic Sea and its f ishing fleet as well as Copenhagen’s closeness to Central Europe with both riverine and land routes were some of the factors which allowed Copenhagen to develop as the new centre for fish trade. This does not mean that Bergen was not involved in international trade since it remained the main export harbour for the lands within the North Atlantic. Furthermore, Hollanders had emerged as a serious competitor to the Hansards – trading f ish from Bergen – through the selling of Icelandic cod – cheaper than the Norwegian one, and of less edible quality. With this centre in Copenhagen, it can be argued that the cod trade seriously competed with the herring trade of the Baltic. Cod was (and still is) a very different product from herring (less palatable), its purchase was cheaper, and perhaps this commercialisation to continental Europe is an indicator of the economic situation of the time. To return to the excerpt, this agreement concerned off-coast f ishing, leaving shore f ishing and riverine exploitation to the Icelanders. This would conf irm the present thesis that Icelanders diversif ied their trades in two main branches: a regional/national trade and an overseas one. Such specialisation could only happen by regulating f ishing and species f ished, as well as pricing. 156 DI, Vol.8, p. 76. 157 Jahnke, ‘The Medieval Herring Fishery in the Western Baltic’, in Sicking and Abreu-Ferreira (eds.), Beyond the Catch, Fisheries of the North Atlantic and the Baltic, 900-1850, p. 173.

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Writing in 1497, R. di Soncino stresses that though ‘great quantity of fish called stock-fish’ come from Iceland, Bristol traders favoured North American fishing grounds since John Cabot’s discovery of North America. Soncino’s remark confirms that Icelanders and English had mercantile deals with regards to fishing; it also highlights the richness of these waters and the economic activity they generated. English fisheries remained dependent, at least until the last decades of the fifteenth century, on Iceland for their fish and on Portugal for salt. With regards to the Newfoundland waters, it has to be noted that, French and Iberian fishermen made the most of these grounds while the English participation became certainly important and ‘commercially viable’ but not until the late sixteenth century.158 Until Cabot’s discovery and the opening of new fishing grounds and trading routes, Iceland was an economic centre for the north Atlantic World. As paradoxical as it may appear the geographical and environmental marginality of Iceland and the Faeroes contributed to the economic successes of their inhabitants. The rights attached to the aquatic element were largely extensions of those for the land in the sense that there was no discontinuity between the two elements. More to the point, legal texts show that fishing and seamanship were highly regulated, which emphasised the main idea of the emergence and pursue of commercial fishing from an earlier period than previously thought 1260s. They also highlight that part of the Icelandic community specialised in the exploitation of aquatic resources for mercantile purposes and took part in the international fish trade. It is anticipated that the development of an Icelandic specialised fish trade took place over three phases. The first step towards the launch of such a specialised trade would have been the introduction of fiski-ver bú (a fishing-place and farm) when some settlers claimed large areas with access to the sea. During that first phase, c. 874-930, the newcomers had to adapt and adjust to their environments. Marine and agricultural diversity amongst them might have occurred during that time where coastal settlers and ‘inland’ farmers exchanged fish and marine resources for cultivated resources. Such exchanges might have led to the development of an internal trade in conjunction with the emergence of specialised craftsmen. Transactions between peasants/farmers and non-peasants/fishermen might have benefited from the creation in 930 of the Alþíng and Þíng. These assemblies 158 Kowaleski, ‘The Seasonality of Fishing in Medieval Britain’, in Bruce (ed.), Ecologies and Economics in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, Studies in Environmental History for Richard. C. Hoffman, p. 129. Robinson, ‘The Fisheries of Northwest Europe, c. 1100-1850’, in Starkey, Thór and Heidbrink (eds.), A History of the North Atlantic Fisheries, pp. 144-145.

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were ideal places for establishing contacts and commercial exchanges between traders/merchants and suppliers. Then from the eleventh century onwards, the adoption of Christianity, together with the foundation of religious houses and the 180 feast days of the Christian calendar, must have boosted commercial exchanges within Iceland as well as overseas. If some chieftains and free men did convert to Christianity out of their new faith, it cannot be denied that others did so to acquire ideological support for their geopolitical and commercial ambitions. In this context, the conversion was a way of integrating Iceland into a pan-European trade network. Once Icelanders developed a specialised trade, established merchant-supplier networks and had obtained rights and privileges from Norway, it was easy to take up a part in the North Atlantic, North Sea and north-west Europe trade.

VI Geoarchaeology of the Emergence of Commercial Fishing Testing Historical and Environmental Reconstructions of the Emergence of Commercial Fishing The aim of this chapter is to test and validate the pattern of settlements and their economic activities presented in the previous chapter through geoarchaeology and zooarchaeology data recovered in Iceland and the Faeroes. The writer conducted soil sampling in three Icelandic sites and two Faeroes sites; the zooarchaeological reports were prepared at Hunter College.1 This chapter compares the results from soil micromorphology and bone analyses; they are presented as case studies. The interpretation and integration of the latter in the present chapter, however, belongs to the present author.

Geo-archaeology: Understanding Human Economic History through the Use of Landscape Geo-archaeology has a wide range of applications for the understanding of past economic history. It enables reconstruction of past landscape and environments as well as occupation of discrete spatial areas by humans. Within geo-archaeology, micromorphology has become increasingly important for the understanding of site formation. Identifying Settlement Patterns Settlement patterning and differentiation between centre and periphery is a key factor in understanding economic behaviour. The concept of centre and periphery was developed as a theoretical framework through which to analyse medieval socio-economic exchanges. At the centre of that theory the manor plays the key role in organising the economy – quite literally so in medieval rural landscapes. The manorial system founds its origin in the ‘manse’ and dates from the seventh century. It was a family unit cultivating 1

The graphs presented in this chapter have been designed by the author.

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the land. It comprised the family house, storage buildings and the land. The tool used to plough the soils, usually between five and thirty hectares, defined the size of the manse. The growth of population during the ninth and tenth centuries required more cultivated lands and many ‘manses’ disappeared. By the eleventh century, a new economic unit, the manor, emerged. Overall, a manor was a unit estate administered by a lord who exercised rights of jurisdiction in his private court. It retains the farming characteristics of the ‘manse’, such as crop cultivations, rearing of livestock, granary, production of flour and all agricultural related activities. Useful for Europe and Scandinavia, and while it seems that no nobility per se developed in medieval Iceland, it remains that such is observed in Iceland, as it was based on the lord-socio-economic relationships. Indeed, it would be misleading to believe that Icelandic society differed from its European and Scandinavian counterparts; the community was highly hierarchised with chieftains at the top of the social ladder. Their farms were centres of power and most of them had tributary settlements from which they extracted income. Those sites can be studied within an environmental and resources based framework. By considering the surrounding resources available for both subsistence and commercial purposes, it is possible to model their economic development as proposed in the previous chapter. Indeed, Michael Aston notes that the study of settlement sites should always consider what the local resources are; besides, it seems that ‘spatial distribution of human activity reflects an ordered adjustment to the factor of distance’.2 The latter assertion is linked to the concept of minimal human effort to acquire resources which is the main theory used in subsistence economy. These are valid points about research focusing on subsistence strategies; yet as the present thesis is focused on the emergence of commercial fishing and the development of a fish-based economy, such considerations applies to sites of production rather to high status farms. It has been proposed that fishing coastal communities’ settlements integrate both landscape and seascape in their patterning (Chapter 5, pp. 145-150). Three types of settlements were modelled: high status farm, mid-rank farm and fishing station, the determinant factors for settling were therefore directly linked with the status of the settlement. For instance, while high status coastal farms had direct access to both sea (trading commodities) and rivers as well as land, mid-rank farms and, all the more so, fishing stations were settled according to their economic occupation and direct access to fishing grounds remained the key element. 2 Aston, Interpreting the landscape. Landscape Archaeology and Local History, pp. 91, 95.

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Regarding the Faeroes, as pointed out by Símun Arge, although the limited visibility of early Scandinavian settlement remains is challenging, this should not prevent the researcher from attempting landscape survey.3 Moreover, Steffen Stummann Hansen claimed that Faeroes’ ‘settlement-structure is of an immobile character from the Viking-Age up to the present day’, it is therefore expected that the chosen sites will present such characteristics. 4 The Soils of Iceland The landscape of Iceland cannot be dissociated from its volcanic activity. All Icelandic soils present characteristics that pertained to the family of andosols ‘characterised by frigid oceanic climate and steady aeolian additions of tephra materials due to intensive wind erosion on Icelandic desert areas and during volcanic eruptions’.5 Volcanism is mainly effusive with more lava than ash (tephra). Yet, some volcanoes do produce a great quantity of rhyolitic pumice and tephra from which a historical chronology is derived (Photo 1). Each volcano has its own chemical signature, and with colours ranging from grayish to very dark. Amongst the Icelandic volcanoes, Hekla, Katla and Veiðivötn tephras are prominent in soil profiles and easily identifiable in situ. These tephras provide a chronology, which is then used to date artefacts, bones and cultural deposits.6 However, most tephras are absent from soils ‘profiles from the Westfjords but are present in the rest of Iceland as in Skútustaðir where at least four tephra layers have been recovered as Veiðivötn AD 1477, identifiable by its greyish colour as shown below (Photo 1). There are two main geological formations (basalt and palagonite formations) dating from the Tertiary and Pleistocene ages with Palagonite formation essentially found in central Iceland.7 The regions of the Westfjords and Mývatnssveit are characterised by U-shaped valleys and numerous 3 Arge, ‘Cultural Landscapes and Cultural Environmental Issues in the Faeroes’, in Mortensen and Arge (eds.), Viking and North in the North Atlantic, p. 26. 4 Stummann Hansen, ‘The Norse Landnám in the Faroe Islands in the light of recent Excavations at Toftanes, Leirvík’, p. 59. 5 Stoops et al., ‘A Micromorphological Study of Andosol Genesis in Iceland’, in Kapur and Stoops (eds.), New Trends in Micromorphology, p. 3. 6 Tephras are identified in situ using the ‘composite profile’ from unpublished material by Anthony J. Newton and Andrew Dugmore (Geosciences, University of Edinburgh, personal communication. Besides, tephra experts are associated to excavations lead by CUNY. 7 Jóhannesson, The Soils of Iceland, pp. 13-14.

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Photo 1 Band of grey tephra (T)

Author’s collection

deep fjords and bays with headlands and mountainous peninsulas. Farms are located between sea level to around 100 m above sea level. The relative close location of these farms to the sea implies that marine mammal and fish remains are often present in farm midden.

Micromorphology: Investigating Human Economic Patterns through Soil Analysis Since the 1980s, micromorphology analysis has become a research tool in archaeology and geo-archaeology, for the study of soils from archaeological sites plays an important role in the understanding of past human activities. Indeed, the understanding of site formation through the research of human waste, occupation debris, fuel residues and animal waste, enables the reconstruction of human occupation, economic activities and dietary habits. Several environmental factors can affect the soil structure and they must be considered in micromorphological analysis. For instance, soil fauna

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Photo 2 Yellowish-orangey infills features with well-developed radial crystallisation. Similar features have been identified as Ca-Fe-phosphate by Adderley et al.

activities such as feeding, reproduction and protection (burrowing), affect both soil components and therefore soil structure arrangement.8 In this connection, Davidson has demonstrated that the soil can be fully altered with a full loss of micromorphological features in between forty to two hundred years.9 Similarly, climatic conditions such as freezing also alter the microstructure of the soils.10 However, the soils sampled for the present thesis are buried in active anthropogenic soils from farm mounds (also known as middens) and as such, have been preserved from both faunal activity and freezing. Moreover, the presence of undisturbed tephra layers highlight that these soils have remained unaltered. In terms of soil analysis, each of the sites should exhibit a ‘cultural deposit’ signature according to their status. It has to be borne in mind, each of these sites also had a ‘green foot’ as discussed in the previous chapter, and hence the ratio between ‘blue foot and green foot’ should be clearly 8 Kooistra and Pulleman, ‘Features Related to Faunal Activity’, in Stoops, Marcelino and Mees (eds.), Interpretation of Micromorphological Features of Soils and Regoliths, pp. 397-401. 9 Davidson, ‘Bioturbation in old arable soils: quantitative evidence from soil micromorphology’, pp. 1247-1253. 10 Van Vliet-Lanoë, ‘Frost Action’, in Stoops, Marcelino and Mees (eds.), Interpretation of Micromorphological Features of Soils and Regoliths, p. 83.

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apparent. As seen in the previous chapter, since high status settlers did not conduct commercial fishing and fish processing on their habitation site, fish remains should be visible only as consumption waste as well as animal bones and possibly shells. The high-status farm’s midden should exhibit land-oriented activity with potential animal manure, fuel residues such as charcoal and possible construction debris, such as turf. Mid-rank farm mounds should show both fishing and farming features, with a greater emphasis on fish bones and features related to fishing such as calcium-iron-phosphatic pedofeatures Ca-Fe-phosphate (Photo 2). It would seem that the diagenetic alteration of bone leaves amorphous features – from yellow to orangey-brown and with a radial or fan-like crystallisation, which could be identified in thin section.11 In 2000, Ian Simpson et al. conducted cultural sediment analysis of soils from a fishing station from Northern Norway.12 Several Ca-Fe-phosphatic pedofeatures were observed and identified with fish bone.13 In 2004, Paul Adderley et al. conducted an experiment to isolate chemical elements in cod bones, which were then compared with the Ca-Fe-phosphate pedofeatures identified in soils samples in Northern Norway and mentioned previously.14 It appeared that the Ca-Fe-phosphatic pedofeatures in the soils shared strong similarities with crystallised fish bones and it was then concluded that such calciumiron-phosphate elements have their origin in fish bone hydroxyapatite. In the case of absence of fragments of fish bones in thin sections and according to Adderley et al., identification of Ca-Fe-phosphate pedofeatures can be used as an indicator for fish.15 Lastly, fishing station middens should show mostly fish remains with very little animal waste, and possibly fuel residues and debris construction too, since some were permanently settled. Yet, and as noted above, environmental factors such as climatic conditions and soil acidity, mesofaunal activity, and human use of midden as fertiliser, should also be considered. Indeed, differences must be made between primary cultural deposits, which were formed by the deposition of organic 11 Jenkins, ‘Interpretation of interglacial cave sediments from a hominid site in North Wales: translocation of Ca-Fe-phosphates’, in Ringrose-Voase and Humphreys (eds.), Soil Micromorphology: Studies in Management and Genesis, pp. 293-305. 12 Simpson et al., ‘Cultural Sediment Analyses and Transitions in Early Fishing Activity at Langenesværet, Vesterålen, Northern Norway’, pp. 743-763. 13 Simpson et al., ‘Cultural Sediment Analyses and Transitions in Early Fishing Activity at Langenesværet, Vesterålen, Northern Norway’, pp. 756-757. 14 Adderley et al., ‘Calcium-iron-phosphate features in archaeological sediments: characterization through microfocus synchrotron X-ray scattering analyses’, pp. 1215-1224. 15 Ibid, pp. 1221-1223.

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matter and various wastes at that place, and secondary deposits that consist of features redeposited in the midden by environmental processes. Methodology The quality of micromorphological samples for site interpretation depends largely on the field strategy. The technique consists of sampling undisturbed soils usually from archaeological profiles with metal containers known as Kubïena tins. In situ, the texture and colour of the soil are recorded with a Munsell Chart, a stratigraphic profile is drawn and each layer is noted and described. In the lab, once dried through vapour – phase acetone exchange, the sample is impregnated with resin and then cut to 30μm thin section for petrographic microscope analysis whereas scanning electron microscope (SEM) needs the slide to remain uncovered. Thin sections are then described according to Courty et al.16 Soils have their own properties and human activity affects those properties. Soils can be disturbed and transformed as much as the land can be affected by human presence. For instance, a midden consists of several layers or strata of human waste – cultural deposits – accumulated through the ages. These layers are usually composed of bones and other food residues, occupation debris, fuel residues and manure. The analysis of such materials has as its main objective the identification of the different constituents of the midden and to semi-quantify these features. Interpretation is the next stage; differentiation between cultural – anthropogenic features as mentioned above – and natural features are essential in the understanding of midden formation process.17 Archaeological profiles from the chosen sites were sampled with Kubïena tins. The sampling strategy consisted in overlapping tins to cover all the layers for each profile in order to get undisturbed samples, which would help to build a chronology for the farm mound’s formation. Zooarchaeology: Understanding Human Economic Behaviour through Bone Finds The study of bones from archaeological contexts is a significant tool for the reconstruction of palaeo-economies and consequently palaeo-environmental 16 Courty et al., Soils and Micromorphology In Archaeology. 17 Soils are classified according to their geographic location and characterised by their physical and chemical properties, these form the natural features.

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conditions as well as past exploitation of regional fauna. There are, however, some issues regarding fish remains in archaeological deposits that must be borne in mind when researching fish-based economy. First, for bone finds to be suitable for the reconstruction of past economies, the imperative condition is that bones should be the consequence of human activity and not that of non-human predators (there are two native species of Icelandic ‘big’ predators: arctic fox and eagle). Second, Amorosi et al warned that in order to be efficient and provide useful data, zooarchaeologists need to develop ‘practical research protocols’ since collected bones are not uniformly valuable.18 The taphonomic conditions that are a set of transformations, which an organism may or may not pass through in the transition between life and complete decomposition or eventual fossilisation of buried bones, play a key role in their conservation.19 Rebecca Nicholson highlights that taphonomic analyses are ‘designed to aid in the interpretation of fossil assemblages by exploring the effects of various cultural and environmental forces which may affect an organism’s remains after death’.20 Third, it seems that past fishing practices should be considered too; for instance it has been claimed that some fish remains ‘effectively never reached the archaeological context’ since ‘they were gutted and often beheaded on board’.21 It seems, therefore, that bone preservation and identification of species are issues that zooarchaeologists must address prior to any interpretation. As Wheeler stresses, however, bones and especially fish bones ‘have a great deal to contribute to the field of environmental archaeology’.22 Bone Recovery: Archaeological Contexts Bone recovery depends on the species and human use of them. Fish bones are particularly fragile and their conservation largely depends on the soil’s acidity. The pH level of the soil plays a key role in either the alteration or preservation of bone (consisting of proteins and minerals, 18 Amorosi et al., ‘Regional zooarchaeology and global change: problems and potentials’, p. 151. 19 Nicholson, ‘Taphonomic Investigations’, in Brothwell and Pollard (eds.), Handbook of Archaeological Sciences, p. 179. 20 Nicholson, ‘Taphonomic Investigations’, in Brothwell and Pollard (eds.), Handbook of Archaeological Sciences, p. 179. 21 Colley, ‘Site Formation and Archaeological Fish Remains. An Ethnohistorical Example From The Northern Isles, Scotland’, in Brinkhuizen and Clason (eds.), Fish and Archaeology, Studies in osteometry, taphonomy, seasonality and fishing methods, p. 35. 22 Wheeler, ‘Problems of Identification and Interpretation of Archaeological Fish Remains’, in Brothwell, Thomas and Clutton-Brock (eds.), Research Problems in Zooarchaeology, p. 69.

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mostly hydroxyapatite). High levels of acidity will considerably alter the bone preservation through a chemical process known as diagenesis, as discussed above. Bones recovered in middens are usually fragmented and burnt bones are prone to greater fragmentation, but it appears that in exceptional conditions of preservation, fish bones can be hand collected. Differentiation of species can be made between both terrestrial and sea mammals, birds and fish. With regards to fish species, it is possible to classify them by families depending on conservation state and to compare them with laboratory collections. With regards to the present work, bone reports issued by Megan Hicks and Seth Brewington from NORSEC Zooarchaeology Laboratories (Brooklyn College Zooarchaeology Laboratory, New York) are used to differentiate between subsistence and commercial strategies through the number of skeletal elements yielded as well as their size, as discussed below. Methodology All elements were identified so far as taxonomically possible: most mammal ribs, long bone shaft fragments and vertebral fragments were assigned to Large Terrestrial Mammal, Medium Terrestrial Mammal, and Small Terrestrial Mammal.23 Fish identifications follow the most current ICAZ Fish Remains Working Group recommendations, with only positively identified fragments being given species level identification, such as the well-known cod-family or salmon-family categories in addition to a substantial number of unidentified fish bones.24 However, it happens that, on occasion, the amount of bone fragments smaller than 1 cm can represent more than half the total amount of bones retrieved, which must be taken in to consideration when researching economic behaviour. The table below sums up the sampling methods, laboratory analyses and the expected results yielded (Table 1).

23 Large Terrestrial Mammal: cattle or horse sized, Medium Terrestrial Mammal: sheep, goat, pig or large dog sized, and Small Terrestrial Mammal: small dog-fox sized. 24 Sieving with 4mm mesh allows the recovery of fragmented bones, yet they are so small that the species within main fish families are not identifiable.

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Table 1 Summary of collection methods with indication of information from each category Kind of data

Method of extraction

Method of examination

Volume collected

Soils

Sampling of profiles

Fish bones

Hand sorting and sieving

Mammal bones

As above

Kubïena tins Petrographic microscope, classification and texture of soils in situ Laboratory sieving 70-80 litres through fine mesh, bone fragment quantification, bone database As above Whole context

Information available from fieldwork Land-use, human diet, livestock, seasonality

Species available, human diet, subsistence, non-subsistence activities, butchery Whole fauna, human diet, butchery, crafts, husbandry

The Norse Fish Horizon Debbi Yee Cannon highlights that the fragility of fish bones and their tendency to break into very small fragments pushed for a thorough identification and interpretation of more substantial skeletal elements, such as skull bones, vertebral column, and pectoral girdle.25 Fish skeletal element distribution has been used to investigate potential signatures for production sites with a disproportionate concentration of skull bones cut off during processing from subsistence sites, exhibiting a disproportionate amount of body elements. In 1994, in a paper on fish bone weight, James Barrett demonstrated that it was possible to calculate the weight of palatable meat according to the bone’s weight.26 He concluded that ‘the relationship between fish length and weight is reasonably predictable’27, which would then be used to establish a ‘stockfish window’, as did Sophia Perdikaris.28 Cod processed for commercial purposes were decapitated and cut open along the dorsal edge (Plate 1, see 25 Cannon, Marine Fish Osteology, A Manual for Archaeologists, p. 4. 26 Barrett, ‘Bone weight and the intra-class comparison of fish taxa’, in Van Neer (ed.), Fish Exploitation in the Past: Proceedings of the 7th meeting of the ICAZ Fish remains Working Group. 27 Barrett, ‘Bone weight and the intra-class comparison of fish taxa’, in Van Neer (ed.), Fish Exploitation in the Past: Proceedings of the 7th meeting of the ICAZ Fish remains Working Group, p. 12. 28 Perdikaris, ‘From Chiefly Provisioning to state Capital Ventures’, p. 123.

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Plate 1 Successive phases of processing fish as stockfish product

L. Kristjánsson©

also volume 2 appendix 6, p. 25). The fish were hung over wooden racks – stokkr in Old Norse – and left until completely dried. In Iceland, fish were air dried, needing constant sub-zero temperature, both day and night.29 For instance, an increased variation in the temperature would end the freezing process by retaining humidity in the flesh, and starting a rotting process.30 Therefore, recovery of heads in archaeological sites would indicate a processing site for commercial fisheries; yet, there could be the case of processing sites not yielding heads, for they were also used as manure as well as animal fodder. Besides, cod cheek pouches were served as a delicacy. Furthermore, sites where stockfish was consumed should yield tails. 29 Kristjánsson, Íslenzkir Sjávarhættir, pp. 307-309. 30 Perdikaris, ‘From Chiefly Provisioning to state Capital Ventures’, p. 73.

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In 1997, James Barrett introduced the concept of a ‘fish event horizon’ to indicate Viking settlement through the intensification in marine fishing, as found by the dominance of marine fish bones at inland sites compared to fresh water species. This horizon is described as being the economic signature of the Norse settlers of the North Atlantic and British Isles.31 This biomass model is based on the change in trophic level for marine fish remains in cultural soils as an intensification of marine resources exploitation by Scandinavians during the ninth to eleventh century. If this appraisal of the Scandinavians’ diet is correct, a considerable amount of fish bones should be retrieved from each site sampled in Iceland and the Faeroes regardless of their status; it is expected that this would be reflected too in the micromorphological analyses. Moreover, the skeletal elements will provide data that will enable the differentiation of sites between subsistence and non-subsistence strategies.

Reconstructing Commercial Fishing: Case Studies As a doctoral researcher, I joined various teams in Iceland and the Faeroes and the sites selection was driven by archaeological fieldworks in these countries as well as their potential role in commercial fishing from the ninth to the late fifteenth century. In Iceland, two main areas have been targeted for the purpose of the present research: the Westfjords and the Mývatn area (Map 3). The Westfjords are well known for their fisheries and fishing grounds while the inhabitants from Mývatn benefited from special rights about fishing, as discussed in the previous chapter. In the Westfjords, the author has sampled for soil analysis the sites of Gjögur and Akurvík, in Árneshreppur, Strandasýsla, North West Iceland. A third site, Vatnsfjörður located in the Vestfirði, is used as a ‘control’ site for high status farms and their economic activity. This last site has been the subject of archaeological investigation since 2003, with the sampling of the farm mound by teams involved in the Vatnsfjörður project. In Mývatnssveit, the author was invited to join an international team led by Professor T. McGovern, in order to take part in the project. The aim of the fieldwork was to sample a profile for micromorphological analysis, located in an area of excavation designated ‘E’ that was identified as pertaining to the Settlement period of the farm.

31 Barrett, ‘Fish Trade in Norse Orkney and Caithness: a zooarchaeological approach’.

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Map 3 Icelandic sites location

In the Faeroes, archaeological excavations were then current on Sandoy, and undisturbed palaeosols from two sites, Undir Junkarinsfløtti (acknowledged as a Norse and early medieval midden) and Á Sondum were identified. A Viking Age structure was identified at Á Sondum, which is a potential candidate as a fishing station. Overall, micromorphological and zooarchaeological analyses should yield ‘predictable’ results as presented in the table below (Table 2), which is designed from the author’s observations of anthropogenic deposits in situ and the modelling of farms’ economic activities as proposed in the previous chapter. As shown in the table above, there is no difference in the empirical data retrieved through micromorphological analysis between high status and mid-rank status farms. These sites are thought to have similar activities, since households lived there; however, the difference between the sites should be highlighted through zooarchaeological assemblages as described in the table. Micromorphological data are semi-quantified and the results are presented with ‘assigned values’, they are compared to bone assemblages in order to provide a clearer picture of the inhabitants’ diet and economic activity for each site. While it seems that there will be not much difference with regards to the bone assemblages between high status and mid rank

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Table 2 Summary table of expected data Empirical data

High status

Mid rank satellite farm and processing site

Fishing station Permanent & seasonal

Micromorphology

Occupation debris Household waste including food waste (fish, mammal bones and shells) Fuel residues Animal manure Terrestrial & marine mammals Molluscs Riverine & marine fish (tails)

Occupation debris Household Waste including food waste Fuel residues Animal manure

Possible occupation debris Fuel residues Fish bones

Terrestrial mammals Riverine & marine fish (possible to get all skeletal elements)

Marine mammals Marine Fish (heads) Shell Possible presence of terrestrial mammals depending on the periodicity of occupation

Zooarchaeology Species and skeletal elements

farms, the quantity of bones collected together with the skeletal elements will help in the interpretation of the economic destination of each site. The same goes for the micromorphological analysis: high status sites are expected to yield farming evidence data such as, for example, animal manure, plant residues and peat rather than ‘fishing’ evidence. With regards to fishing stations, permanent stations will yield some of the ‘farming’ features for they were inhabited all year round, and fishermen needed to sustain themselves and in some cases relatives. The above table highlights the expected results, and comparison between soil sediments and bones will help to interpret the cultural deposit accumulation according to site use. Árneshreppur, Strandasýsla, North West Iceland In 1990, ‘small’ excavations at Gjögur and Akurvík were conducted by a team from Hunter College as part of the Icelandic Palaeoeconomy Project (IPP), which was embedded in a wider archaeological survey covering various sites in the North and Northwest of Iceland. In 2003, the rapid erosion of coastal sites in Árneshreppur, Strandasýsla, led to a new survey campaign conducted by a team from Fornleifastofnun Íslands and included both sites. These sites are well known for their fishing activity: Akurvík was described as a seasonal fishing station belonging to Gjögur, which has been described as a potential ‘high status’ farm that ‘would have controlled and integrated

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Akurvík catches into the larger regional arena of Northern Iceland’.32 As the geoarchaeological report did not mention a church at Gjögur -which is one of the high status farm’s attributes as proposed in the settlement models – it appeared to the author that this site needed further investigation through soil sampling for cultural sediment analysis of the farm’s midden. Concerning Akurvík, the rapid erosion of this coastal site was a key factor that led the writer to re-open the profile excavated in 1990 and to sample what was left of the midden. Gjögur Gjögur geographic location (Photos 3 and 4) at the head of the Reykjafjörður bay, in the northern part of Strandir, is well known as a shark fishing station. Gjögur inhabitants exploited shark oil that was exported to Denmark for street-lighting of Copenhagen’s streets. Gjögur is first mentioned in Grettissaga as a station from which fishing and, essentially, whaling took place.33 Structures dating from the Settlement period have been identified with a farm mound nearly 3 metres deep.34 During the 2010 fieldwork, it was not possible to reach the bottom of that midden due to a high water table. However, the profile was sampled for micromorphological analysis from the lowest visible layer SU63/64 and one horizon dug below [63/64], dating from the twelfth century and earlier, to SU80 which corresponds to the upper part of the profile with dates spanning from thirteenth to fifteenth centuries.35 Eight Kubïena tins were taken from the west profile (facing north) of the farm mound (Plate 2) and seven were processed for thin section micromorphology analysis: Gjo1, Gjo2, Gjo3, Gjo4, Gjo6, Gjo8 and Gjo11.36 The profile has been divided between ‘Upper midden’, GJO AU 1, which includes the youngest horizons spanning from 1300-1400, and ‘Lower midden’, GJO AU2, dating from 1160 to 1390 based on radio carbon dating.37 Tins 1 and 2 were sampled in the bottom of the lower midden. 32 Krivogorskaya et al., ‘Fish bones and Fishermen: the potential of Zooarchaeology in the Westfjords’, p. 1; and ‘Cleaning up the Farm: A Later Medieval Archaeofauna from Gjögur, a Fishing Station Farm of NW Iceland’. 33 Grettisaga, K 12, Íslendinga sögur, p. 36. 34 Lárusdóttir et al., Fornleifaskráning í Árneshreppi I, Fornleifar frá Gjögri til Ingólfsfjarðar, pp. 9-10. 35 Krivogorskaya et al., Cleaning up the Farm: A Later Medieval Archaeofauna from Gjögur, a Fishing Station Farm of NW Iceland, p. 30. 36 The tins were numbered in their sampling order and not according to their place on the profile. 37 Krivogorskaya et al., ‘Fish bone and f ishermen: the potential of Zooarchaeology in the Westfjords’, p. 1.

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Plate 2 Gjögur stratigraphy, east facing section

Original stratigraphic drawing, Jim Woollett (1990), addition of tins from 2010 sampling campaign

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Photo 3 Aerial view of Gjögur

Flickriver©

The profile has been chosen according to the archaeological material and animal remains collected in 1990. Radiocarbon dates from bones and artefacts from the lower parts of the midden deposit date to the twelfth century; the bottom of the midden has not been reached as already noted, but there is a strong possibility that cultural deposits from the settlement period rest there. It is estimated that at least 80 cm depth is still to be excavated. The analysis of the cultural deposits speaks of a gradual increase towards livestock exploitation and consumption. Several fragments of mammal bones have been identified in the thin sections, although none was observed from one of the lowest soil samples – from bottom upwards as seen the stratigraphy – tin 3 [SU97/48]-[SU54]-[SU73]-[SU72]-[SU71], labelled Gjo3. When mammal bones were absent, as in Gjo3 and Gjo11, animal input such as dung confirmed the presence of cattle and the rearing of livestock. However, the large amount of fish bones in the thin sections Gjo2 (approximately 40-50% of the coarse material of biological origin) and Gjo1 (approximately 20.30% of the coarse material of biological origin)

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Photo 4 Still inhabited, the houses are closer to the beach than the early medieval settlement as shown by the farm mound in the fore ground. Structures were surveyed on the left of the mound

combined with the results of the analysis of the f ish bone assemblage show that the inhabitants focused primarily on the exploitation of marine resources for both consumption and commercial purposes, although the presence of bones decrease slightly for Gjo1 as shown below. Moreover, as the decrease of animal and fish bones’ frequency happened at the same time as seen in Gjo3, this indicates that an extraordinary event took place. The recurrence of volcanic activity through the ages would lead to the conclusion that the area was touched by such activity, though it is largely assumed that volcanic activity did not touched the Westfjords. Yet, the frequency of volcanic material in Gjo3 shows a low amount of such material. It seems, therefore, that the drop-in bone frequency cannot be attributed to volcanic activity, and that such an issue must remain unsettled for the time being; a possible cause for such decrease might be a disease affecting the population and leading to a temporary abandonment of the site. However, from Gjo11 onwards, the considerable increase of fish bone frequency gives evidence of the resumption of human economic activity, as shown in the zooarchaeological assemblage and discussed below.

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Figure 9 Frequency of fish and mammal bones identified in thin sections 45 40 35 30 25

Fish Bones

20

Animal Bones

15 10 5 0 Gjo 2

Gjo 1

Gjo 3

Gjo 11

Gjo 4

Gjo 8

Gjo 6

The animal bone frequency clearly shows that although they raised livestock, they probably used them as dairy cattle rather than ‘meat’ cattle. Indeed, the low frequency of mammal bones in the thin sections (5%) indicates that very few animals were slaughtered for consumption and this is interpreted as a keeping of animals for milk production. This also complies with the legal regulation, which required up keeping of milking cattle or sheep on site in order to fulfil the fasting days when only ‘foods from milk’ were allowed.38 This ratio is also visible in the bone assemblage. Occupation of the site is dated between AD1160 and AD1470 – 14C on bones – although it is reported that structures on the farm mound were occupied until 1860.39 The bone assemblage yielded a great percentage of fish although domestic mammals, sea mammals, molluscs and birds were also present. Concerning the fish bone assemblage, the skeletal elements -caudal, thoracic and precaudal vertebras- together with the reconstructed length of fish suggest that fish were processed for both consumption and commercial purposes. The amount of very well-preserved f ish bones together with the skeletal elements collected from the lowest part of the profile, GJO AU2, are indicators that fish processing happened at least in the twelfth century. 38 Grágás I, Christian Laws section, p. 47. 39 Lárusdóttir et al., Fornleifaskráning í Árneshreppi I, Fornleifar frá Gjögri til Ingólfsfjarðar, p. 8.

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Photo 5 Mammal bone

The fish elements in the cultural sediments exhibit various stages of conservation from very well preserved to totally decomposed and recrystallised. The well-preserved fish bones are easily recognisable in thin sections: contrary to mammal bones, they do not present haversian canals (blood canals) as shown below (Photos 5 and 6). While it is difficult to identify such diagenetic process on micromorphological observations only, the presence of the whole sequence of alteration from unaltered fish bone, slightly altered, heavily altered and finally amorphous paths, are indicators of decomposed and recrystallized fish bones. Overall, Gjögur farm mound proves to be a very rich midden retaining numerous anthropogenic ecofacts related to the Settlement period and the economy developed at that time. The thin sections show a density of organic matter (plant residues, fragments of charcoal, charred wood, burnt bones and animal waste) and fish bones but no wastes of construction debris or ashes – hearth clearings – which suggest that this midden is mainly formed by materials whose origin is the product of cattle pastoralism, manuring and fish production. The presence of fragments of charcoal and charred wood in the set of thin sections, are indicators too of agricultural enrichment

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Photo 6 Fragments of fish bones

of the surrounding soils, although they are usually retrieved from fields rather than farm mound. Their presence in the midden can be interpreted as a residue of field or homefield ‘clearing’ prior to renewal of fertilisers. Another indicator of soil exploitation as well as animal husbandry is the presence of biogenic opal – phytoliths and diatoms amongst others – in the groundmass and infillings. 40 Phytoliths are silica bodies produced by decomposed plants and grasses, and diatoms – single-celled algae – are formed in soils, lakes, rivers and marine environments. It must also be noted that the presence of biogenic opal has been recorded in poorly- drained soils, which is the case for farm mounds, as well as in volcanic soils. 41 To return to the Gjögur samples, if the abundance of phytoliths observed was volcanic related – from burning and deposition of grass residues – their abundance should correlate with the volcanic materials. Instead, the frequency of volcanic materials and phytoliths 40 Shahack-Gross et al.,’ Identif ication of pastoral sites using stable nitrogen and carbon isotopes from bulk sediment samples: a case study in modern and archaeological pastoral settlements in Kenya’, pp. 983-990. 41 Clarke, ‘The occurrence and significance of biogenic opal in the regolith’, pp. 183-186.

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Figure 10 Total number of bones per species for Gjögur

Gjögur Bone Assemblage

Total No of Bones

10000 8000 6000 4000 2000

Fish

Molluscs

Domestic Mammals

Seals

Whales

Birds

0

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report 15

reveals a greater percentage of opal, and this is therefore interpreted as a human input through agricultural practices related to land use rather than the result of grass materials spread through volcanic eruption effect as observed by Clarke. 42 The presence of these phytoliths is interpreted as human and animal consumption of both cultivated crops and grass as fodder. With regards to the fish remains, it seems that the amount of fragmented bones and calcium-iron features, together with the bone assemblage, def initely ascribe Gjögur as a mid-rank farm whose main economic activity was the production of fish for mercantile purposes, and most probably for the overseas markets. Such interpretation is supported by the large amount of Atlantic cod and gadid fish bones, which were the species most commonly internationally traded as discussed in the previous chapters. In addition, there remains the possibility that catches landed at Akurvík were processed both at the station and at Gjögur. Overall, the quantity of fish bones and the variety of species speaks for both domestic and overseas fish trade, starting at least in the twelfth century. Indeed, fish bones from the skull were hand collected from layers located in the water table by the author; this indicates that fish was processed there at an earlier period.

42 Clarke, ‘The occurrence and significance of biogenic opal in the regolith’, pp. 183-186.

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Figure 11 Organic materials in thin sections Organic Materials in Thin Sections 40

Means Frequency (%)

35 30 25

Charcoal

20

Plant Residues

15

Phytoliths

10

Burnt Material

5 0 Gjo 2

Gjo 1

Gjo 3

Gjo 11

Gjo 4

Gjo 8

Gjo 6

Thin Sections Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report 15

Akurvík Akurvík is a beach site 3km north from Gjögur. In the modern era, Gjögur inhabitants created vegetable gardens on the shallow sandy soils to prevent erosion (Photo 7). During the 2003 survey, four structures were identified as booths, most certainly dwellings for fishermen and their gear. These structures were interpreted as a ‘series of superimposed seasonal fishing booths’ rather than a permanent settlement. 43 This impression was also built upon the presence of windblown sand layers in the profile. The location of the site, facing the North Atlantic, has exposed it to rapid erosion and the profile surveyed and described in 1990 was no longer existent in 2010. 44 The planned fieldwork strategy consisted of re-opening the 1990 section but due to erosion it had to be amended and a profile was opened on the eroded face (Photo 8). Fortunately, horizons showing anthropogenic features and what resembled the ‘fish layer’ described in 1990 were found. The cultural deposits 43 Krivogorskaya et al., ‘Fish bones and Fishermen: the potential of Zooarchaeology in the Westfjords’, p. 31. 44 As part of the Icelandic Palaeoeconomy project, a team of archaeologists from Hunter College, New York, led by Prof McGovern, surveyed and described the profile mentioned above.

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Photo 7 Akurvík beach and reefs

show orangey patches as illustrated above, while fish bones from both these horizons and the 1990 ‘fish layer’ were still visible. No bones, however, were collected since there is no zooarchaeological programme for this site. Five samples were taken and three were processed for micromorphological analysis, the two others being security ‘doubles’. The horizons were numbered from bottom to top. The targeted horizons for sampling were the 1990 ‘fish layer’, [6] and a short cultural deposit, [8] (Plate 3). The micromorphological analysis of Akurvík thin sections did not yield much data about human occupation of the site. The thin sections mainly consist of sand although there are anthropogenic inclusions and micro strata such as organic matter, mainly amorphous brown and reddish, very few plant remnants (lignified tissues) and very few fragments of charcoal are present – less than 0.5%. The very rare fragments of charcoal in the samples together with the identification of rubified materials have been interpreted as the result of translocated material (possibly by wind) rather than human activity in the production of fuel. Yet, the most striking feature is the total absence of animal and, essentially, fish bones, which is most probably directly linked to their very good preservation, which allowed for hand collection by the 1990 team.

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Photo 8 Akurvík eroded profile

With regards zooarchaeological data, fish bones represent the largest part of the bone assemblage that coincides with Akurvík’s period as a fishing station. The presence of mollusc shells seems to be directly linked with the fishing activity and has been interpreted as bait for fishing rather than the fishermen diet. Seal bones can also be interpreted as another activity of the station; meat was highly prized, while the skin provided furs for clothing. Whale bone fragments are most probably the result of stranded animals whose bones might have been traded for the manufacture of luxurious objects like combs, statues, crosses, game pieces, and handles of weapons. This could mean that the inhabitants of the area were ‘ivory workers’ and such view deserves further investigation. The remaining mammal and bird bones have to be interpreted as dietary elements. The presence of a windblown sand horizon can be an indication of an ‘abandonment’ phase and hence seasonality, as opposed to midden adding up continuous cultural deposits. However, the location of this fishing station, by a sandy beach and facing the North Atlantic with its strong wind currents, can explain these sand horizons rather than the seasonal occupation of the site. The proximity of Akurvík from Gjögur

192  Plate 3 Akurvík stratigraphy

Fish Tr ade in Medieval North Atl antic Socie ties

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Figure 12 Bone assemblage per species Akurvik Bone Assemblage

Total No of Bones

10000 5000

Fish

Molluscs

Domesc Mammals

Seals

Whales

Birds

0

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

(3 km) enabled fishermen to live in the main settlement with daily work at Akurvík (Map 4). The presence of mammal, bird and seal bones is not contradictory with the occupation of the site as a work place rather than a living place; meals had to be taken by the f ishermen both prior to a fishing campaign and during landing and processing of catches as well as repairing of boats and gear. In the archaeological report, it is mentioned that a structure was built above a deposit of mammal, bird and f ish bones. More substantial f ish bones were recovered from the various floor layers of this booth. There are many indicators, like remains of turf walls, that there is probably more archaeological material on the site and there is a strong possibility that the midden has not yet been located. However, the rate of erosion raises the possibility that the midden already might have disappeared fully. During the 2010 fieldwork, the structures were still visible, although very close to the eroded edge of the prof ile, and archaeological investigations would enable recovery of anthropogenic features before their complete loss. With regards to the settlement chronology of Gjögur (AMS Radiocarbon Assay results, 2 sigma calibrated range, AD 1160 to 1470), and Akurvík (AMS Radiocarbon Assay results, 2 sigma calibrated range, AD 1030 to 1290 – midden deposit), the fact that Gjögur farm mound has not been fully investigated with unexcavated cultural deposits, one should be cautious with chronological interpretation. While Gjögur has been identified as a high-status farm, its economic and social status is questionable. 45 While it 45 Krivogorskaya et al., ‘Fish bones and fishermen’. In their report, Krivogorskaya et al. claimed that Akurvík was the fishing station of Gjögur.

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Map 4 Reykjarnes Bay, Gjögur and Akurvík (hver on the map)

Landmælingar Íslands ©

retains architectural attributes of a higher status farm than a fishing station, the absence of church and graveyard must be considered as indicators of a lower social status than a proper high-status farm as described in the previous chapter. Besides, the presence of fishing booths in the settlement also points to a mid-rank fishing and processing site. Again, precision must be made, that although it was inhabited by fishermen and that they were involved in commercial fishing, Gjögur is also known for being a shark station. Finnbogastaðir, located around 5 km north of both Gjögur and Akurvík, and settled by Finbogi, a powerful Viking chieftain, is a better candidate as the high-status farm of the area. To date, only the modern midden dating from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries had been excavated. Unsurprisingly, fish bones were part of the archaeofauna; a high percentage of gadidae with more heads than tails present led to the conclusion that ‘a mixed fishing economy aimed at both local subsistence provisioning and at small-scale stockfish production for export and local exchange’ was conducted.46 While the results yielded show that this site was economically

46 McGovern et al., Coping with Hard times in NW Iceland: Zooarchaeology, History, and Landscape Archaeology at Finnbogastaðir in the 18th century, p. 16

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Map 5 Map showing the location of Finnbogastaðir in relation to Gjögur and Akurvík

Landmælingar Íslands ©

involved in fish trade, these are modern data and difficult to reconcile with the period under study in the present research. Concerning Finnbogastaðir (Map 5) as being a high-status settlement from Landnám and during the medieval period, it seems that the site retains most of the architectural characteristics as modelled in the previous chapter. Its geographic location – with access to both sea and land resources – but also with its direct access to land routes which link the peninsula from east to west, together with its architectural attributes – church, cemetery and most probably Viking Age long-house and storages – are many indicators of a high-status settlement as modelled in the previous chapter. These features would exemplify the hypothesis developed regarding the articulation of settlements around a high-status place by presenting in situ the full model (high status, mid rank status farm and the fishing station) of settlement pattern exploiting aquatic resources for economic purposes. The Westfjords: Vatnsfjörður The Vestfirðir isthmus is amongst the rockiest in Iceland. The coastlines are dominated by fjords and steep promontories, whereas the interior lands

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present tundra characteristics with lakes. The principal fjord, ĺsafjörðjúp is cut by many smaller fjords, Vatnsfjörður being one of the most easterly. The area covers various ecological zones with access to the sea, shielings, lakes and rivers. Vatnsfjörður farm owned several satellite farms (twentytwo in total) from which it derived a part of its income, especially from five nearby places: Reykjaf jörður, Miðhús, Halshús, Sveinhús and Skálavík. 47 Concerning f ishing, ten sites with f ishing booths were identif ied, and ten other sites had boathouses or drying racks. Most of these sites are located in the area of Vatnsf jarðarnes. Archaeological surveys in the region around the site have been underway since 2003, and the goal of the Vatnsf jörður landscape project is to further the understanding of settlement patterns and economic development within the Westfjords. 48 Historical sources claim that the site of Vatnsfjörður, located between Mjóvafjörður and Reykjafjörður, was one of the most important seats of wealth and power in the Vestfirðir from the thirteenth to the seventeeth century. 49 The site of Vatnsf jörður was settled by Snœbjorn, brother of Helgi the Lean, one of the most powerful chieftains of the north of Iceland. Landscape survey and archaeological investigations of a mound within the modern homefield of the farm near the site of the medieval farm exposed the remains of a Viking Age structure. Nine evaluation trenches were excavated on the farm mound to measure its size and the depth of its cultural deposits. Three radiocarbon dates from birch charcoal retrieved from a part of the farm mound indicate that the occupation of this parcel of the site began as early as the late ninth or early tenth century. Six structures were identified and fully excavated.50 No fish midden has been identified; the only fish bones recovered from the midden have been identified as indicative with subsistence strategies rather than commercial activity. Bones were both hand collected and sieved. The archaeofauna recovered have been grouped into three different ‘chronological’ phases based on radio carbon dating: the Viking Age, Modern farm and unknown.51 47 Edvardsson and McGovern, ‘Archaeological Excavations at Vatnsfjörður 2003-04’, p. 17. 48 International collaboration between Fornleifastofnun, Iceland, the University Centre of the Westfjords, the Icelandic parliament, the Middle Ages Society, the North Atlantic Biocultural Organization and the universities of Stirling, Oslo, New-York and Iceland. 49 International collaboration between Fornleifastofnun, Iceland, the University Centre of the Westfjords, the Icelandic parliament, the Middle Ages Society, the North Atlantic Biocultural Organization and the universities of Stirling, Oslo, New-York and Iceland. 50 FSÍ Reports, Vatnsfjörður Field Reports, www.nabohome.org/publications/fieldreports.html 51 McGovern et al., Archaeofauna from Vatnsfjörður, West Fjords, Iceland, Interim Report 20032007, p. 6.

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Viking age archaeofauna collected from the ‘modern’ farm mound seem in a better conservation state than that from the Viking Age farm. The quantity of identif ied specimens is fairly small, amounting to 409, amongst which are only 33 fish species. Domestic animals followed by molluscs are the majority represented. However, it must be noted that the taxa are from periods too distant from each other, Viking Age and ‘early modern’, to enable any interpretation about subsistence and nonsubsistence strategies. However, it is clear that cattle formed the greatest part of the diet of the settlement’s inhabitants, with fish consumption being ranked at fourth place in their food habits (Figure 13) for the Viking Age assemblage. Such an assemblage shows that although Vatnsfjörður’s wealth came largely with the exploitation of marine resources, the dietary pattern was highly terrestrial oriented. This was confirmed by the 2008 and to 2009 excavations around the Viking Age structures where terrestrial mammals clearly dominated the Viking Age archaeofauna as shown above. Within Vatnsfjörður homefield, soil and sediment samples have shown poor quality of soil, which suggests that they were not managed or enriched in a way that would ensure that succeeding generations inherited a valuable resource in terms of cultivated land. Cultural sediments analysis of the farm mound consists of successive cultural deposits formed by organic matter, hearth ashes and fuel residues, animal bones and artefacts.52 Further soil samples of the same farm mound have been analysed by the present author. The micromorphological analyses have yielded results similar to the previous analyses. Overall, the farm mound consists of anthropogenic features associated with agricultural practices and land use; animal and fish bones have been identified and interpreted as household food waste. Burnt peat and wood (birch and drift wood) have been identified in all thin sections and are interpreted as fuel residues; these results are coherent with the variety of fuels used at Vatnsfjörður.53 The geo-archaeological and zooarchaeological data point to the fact that that the coastal location of Vatnsfjörður was not linked to fishing as an economic activity but is to be interpreted as part of the high-status attributes of the farm. The church and its cemetery, the satellite farms, the land and sea access are many signatures of a high-status settlement.

52 Vatnsfjörður Interim Reports 2007-2009. 53 Mooney, ‘Fuel Resources at Vatnsfjörður: An Archaeobotanical perspective’, Vatnsfjörður Interim Report 2008, pp. 117-131.

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Figure 13 Vatnsfjörður dietary habit % of NISP - VSF - Viking Age

Fish

8.07%

Molluscs

28.36%

Domestic Mammals

47% 5.38%

Seals Whales

1.22%

Birds

10.02%

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

Mývatnssveit: Skútustaðir The region of Mývatn offers a very different landscape from the Vestfirðir. The site of Skútustaðir is located 85 km inland on the banks of Lake Mývatn, which is drained by the Laxá River. This area is known for being one of the richest in Atlantic salmon, brown trout and char. Farming activity in Skútustaðir is reported in primary sources from Settlement onwards.54 Landnámabók speaks of two settlers who established their farms by Lake Mývatn, Þormond on the north side and Þorkell on the south, which would indicate the beginning of farming activity as soon as Settlement, as well as exploitation of other natural resources such as egg harvesting, bird hunting and grass cutting. The soil prof ile exposed shows contexts from pre-Settlement times to present (Plate 4). At least four thin layers exposed were identified as tephra bands – volcanic ash bands – and have been identified as Veiðivótn AD 870, Hekla AD 1158, Hekla AD 1300 and Veiðivótn AD 1477. Area E1 represents the earliest context excavated on the site with a historical chronology dating to Landnám-Veiðivótn, c. 870. Cultural deposits were identified and samples were exposed to the depth of the pre-settlement up to the modern period. 54 Landnámabók, Book III.

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Plate 4 Skútustaðir stratigraphy

Soil samples from the cultural deposit below context [027] present a great quantity of tephra materials (rhyolitic and basaltic fragments and greenish grey fine mineral material), which have been associated with the 871/2 volcanic eruption of Veiðivötn. They also exhibit anthropogenic features that show that this site was occupied shortly after the eruption, which coincides with the Settlement of Iceland. The tephra stratigraphy and the 14C dates from both area E1 and E2 attest of a human occupation of the area on top of the natural lava surface soon after the fall of the LNS (V 871+/2). The

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amount of fish bones in the earliest phase of the settlement is insignificant compared to that of animal bones (E1, E27, E25 and E23 in the mid-lower part of the stratigraphy). However, a considerable increase appears in the late twelfth-early thirteenth century horizon [E20] as shown below. Two other peaks of fish bone abundance in the cultural sediments analysis appears in the fifteenth (thin section E15) and seventeenth centuries [E9] horizons. These increases can be interpreted in two different ways: either it is due to the soil quality itself, hence better condition for bone preservation, or it could be due to an actual increase of fish consumption by the settlement’s inhabitants. From the late fifteenth century, food supply due to weather deterioration in the Northern hemisphere worsened abruptly leading to famine and epidemics. For instance, significant sea ice around Iceland has been recorded for the years 1467, 1474 and, 1633, 1638-1639, 1688-1690s, which blocked Iceland’s circumnavigation and supplying; colder conditions increased crop failures not only in Iceland but also in Norway, which supplied Iceland in flour and wheat.55 Icelanders had to rely more on fish as a substitute for bread and flour, which would explain the increased abundance of fish bones observed in the thin sections as seen in the graphs below (Figures 14a, 14b). However, this is not reflected in the bone assemblage, where both specimens and total number of fragments present are shown below (Figure 15). However, when all the terrestrial mammals are replaced with domestic mammals only – considered as forming the usual diet – unsurprisingly, the abundance of fish bones considerably exceeds that of the other species (Figure 16). Overall, the increase in fish bones (gadidae) cannot be denied from both the micromorphological and zooarchaeological data set.56 It would appear too, that the inhabitants of Skútustaðir farm relied on fish at Settlement period; the increase of fish bones for the period 1262-1300 can be interpreted as a result of an increase in exchange between this inland farm and the coast. While it can be argued that this correlates to the ‘emergence’ of commercial f ishing in Iceland as usually acknowledged and discussed in previous chapters, it must be noted that the abundance of domestic mammals followed a similar increase for the said period. Amongst the fish bones recovered in the 2008 field season, cranial bones of marine fish 55 Massé et al., ‘Abrupt climate changes for Iceland during the last millennium: Evidence from high-resolution sea ice reconstructions’, p. 568. Ogilvie, ‘Documentary evidence for changes in the climate of Iceland, A.D. 1500 to 1800’, in Bradley and Jones (eds.), Climate since A.D. 1500, p. 108. 56 Hicks, Skútustaðir: An Interim Zooarchaeological Report following the 2009 Field Season.

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Figure 14a Means frequency of of fish bones to animal bones as observed in cultural sediments for the fifteenth century 8 7

Mean Frequency (%)

6 5 4 3 2 1 0 SKU E2

SKU E15 Fish Bones

SKU E17/18

SKU E 019

Animal Bones

Figure 14b Means frequency of fish bones to animal bones as observed in cultural sediments for the seventeenth century 8 7

Mean Frequency (%)

6 5 4 3 2 1 0

SKU E5

SKU E9 Fish Bones

SKU E10 Animal Bones

SKU E13

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Figure 15 Display the total number of fragments by major taxanomic categories

5000 Marine mammals (phocids, cetaceans)

4000

Avian Sp. (all identified) 3000

Fish Sp. (Preliminary count of all fragments)

2000

Terrestrial Mammals (including MTM, LTM, STM, UNIM)

1000

c 0

h

7 71 14

77

12

-1

62

14 t

-1

h

c

30

10 t

9 th c

0

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

Figure 16 Fish bone abundance

5000 Marine mammals (phocids, cetaceans, MM)

4000

Avian Sp. (all identified) 3000

Fish Sp. (Preliminary count of all fragments)

2000

Domestic Mammals (cow, horse, pig, sheep, goat, ovis/capra sp.)

1000

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

1477-1717

14th c

1262-1300

10 c th

9th c

0

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203

were observed which indicates that they were fresh product rather than the common headless dried fish usually observed in inland sites. Within the archaeofauna, the amount of fish bones is the highest, with fish bones representing approximately 90% of the total number of identified species (NISP) for the ninth century.57 This indicates that settlers relied on fish for consumption so as to enable the livestock numbers to stabilise – ratio adult/ young balanced – prior to meat consumption. The increase of domestic mammals’ bones for the tenth century conf irms such a hypothesis as shown below. Furthermore, the presence of charcoal – incorporated into the soil for enrichment – in the lowest horizons shows that as early as Settlement, the inhabitants fertilised their new fields for both crops and livestock rearing. The absence of anthropic features (household waste, fuel residues) and the presence of soil organic matters (SOM) identified in the cultural deposits [E1], [E27] and [E25] (lower part of the profile) indicate that the settlers attempted to cultivate a field, which then developed into a midden. Household waste start accumulating from [E23] when the samples exhibit all the usual farming midden deposit phases and features such as animal waste, occasional construction debris (turf), charcoal and charred wood as well as organic matter. The continuous recurrence of volcanic glass and pumices present in the thin sections show that tough some of it was deposited during volcanic eruptions, part of the cultural sediments forming the midden come from field clearance that was deposited at that place (farmers used to and still do clear stones from their field, in that case volcanic stones). The microstructures (lenticular) identified correspond to frost-affected soil58 and young soils on volcanic ash,59 as well as soils and sediments with biological activity which fit both the environmental features and cultivated soils. Within the models proposed, Skútustaðir is an exception for it is an inland site. Yet, it has the high status architectural attributes. More important for the present research, is the presence of marine species – both fish and mammals. This might show that the inhabitants had contacts with coastal settlements and that their farm was a place where trade took place. However, 57 Hicks, Skútustaðir: An Interim Zooarchaeological Report following the 2009 Field Season. 58 Stoops and Schaefer, ‘Pedoplasmation: Formation of Soil Material’, in Stoops, Marcelino and Mees (eds.), Interpretation of Micromorphological Features of Soils and Regoliths, pp. 69-108. 59 Sedov et al., ‘Regoliths and Soils on Volcanic Ash’, in Stoops, Marcelino and Mees (eds.), Interpretation of Micromorphological Features of Soils and Regoliths, pp. 275-303. Stoops et al., ‘A Micromorphological Study of Andosol Genesis in Iceland’, in Kapur and Stoops (eds.), New Trends in Micromorphology, pp. 67-90.

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Figure 17 Display of archaeofauna from the ninth-tenth century

Archaeofauna - 9th and 10th centuries

Total No of Bones

1000

500

9th c 10th c

Fish

Molluscs

Domestic Mammals

Seals

Whales

Birds

0

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

if one places that farm in its politico-economic context of the Mývatn area, Skútustaðir archaeofauna resembles that of the other settlements of the district.60 All the settlements that have been excavated around Lake Mývatn evidence marine fish in their bone assemblage. Their presence in significant quantities is interpreted as the product of an internal fish trade between coastal and hinterland settlements and appears to indicate that as early as the Settlement, trade in fish was conducted in both the Westfjords and North Iceland.

The Faeroes Located on the island of Sandoy, the two sites sampled, Undir Junkarinsfløtti and Á Sondum are situated in the sandy bay of Sandur. Both sites have been clearly identified with the Norse colonisation of the archipelago, and the discovery of a unique silver coin hoard dated from around 1090 in Sandur confirmed that Sandoy’s inhabitants were one of the most powerful groups in the archipelago. 60 McGovern et al., ‘Coastal connection, local fishing, and sustainable egg harvesting: patterns of Viking Age inland wild resources use in Mývatn district, Northern Iceland’, pp. 187-205.

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Undir Junkarinsfløtti The site of Undir Junkarinsfløtti nowadays consists of a hollow square. A midden was exposed due to erosion and, in 2000, trial-trenching was carried out from the most eroded face under the direction of Símun V. Arge from the Faroese National Museum. Well-stratified deposits with excellent bone preservation were exposed which yielded some Viking Age artefacts. Radiocarbon dating from the two lower horizons produced dates from the ninth-tenth centuries, which identified the midden with the Viking colonisation of the archipelago. Animal and fish bones as well as archaeological materials were excavated during excavations in 2003, while the 2004 season exposed a Late Norse structure associated with the upper horizons of the profile. In 2010, the east profile was sampled for micromorphological analysis (Plate 15). The profile exhibited windblown sand horizons and two large cultural deposits; one of these cultural layers consists of very dense, black and sticky matter, whose origin was not identified during the fieldwork. The other was composed mainly of animal and fish bones, very well preserved. After cleaning, seven horizons were recorded and described. A fragment of Viking pottery was found in the lower part of the profile, below the ‘bones layer’ as noted above, which indicates that the midden dates from the Norse colonisation of the island. The midden was re-opened for soil sampling of the east profile, and five Kubïena tins were sampled (Plate 5). In previous years, this profile was excavated and recorded for archaeological purposes. Bones were retrieved and processed by NORSEC, Brooklyn Zooarchaeology Laboratories. Kubïena tins were taken from the east face of the midden, overlapping horizons and providing a continuous set for the formation of that midden. The sand blown horizons can be an indicator of seasonality with a discontinuous midden formation, or it can be a climatic characteristic of the place with strong windblown sand, as experienced in the Orkney Islands (the site is just a few metres from the beach). The cultural deposits are made up of a mixture of organic matter, plant residues, and animal waste associated with cultivated soils. The presence of mesofaunal features – such as droppings, chambers, coatings and infillings – are indicators of soils containing a high percentage of organic matter that is the primary source of food for soil fauna, and which is found in peat. The black sticky horizon consists of very compact organic matter and burnt peat, used as fuel. Very few and small fragments of animal bones have been observed, whereas fragmented fish bones are well represented as shown in the graph below (Figure 18)

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Plate 5 Area A East Section facing West (Scale: 1:10 (cm))

However, while the ratio of fish bones to animal bones seems to point out that fish is the main taxa, there appears to be a change in the diet patterns from fish to birds between the eleventh and twelfth centuries as shown in the graph below (Figure 19). Features similar to guano have been observed in thin sections and confirm this pattern. The high abundance of bird bones in the assemblage leads to the interpretation of these features as being from avian origin rather than fish bones. Actually, and unless the full path of diagenetic alteration of fish bones – from well preserved to fully decomposed and recrystallized – is observed through petrographic microscope, it remains difficult to ascertain that orange-yellow amorphous are fish bones. For the period pre-twelfth century, fish represents 50% of the whole archaeofauna. Yet, for the post-twelfth century, the amount of fish bones decreases drastically which is interpreted as a change in either the diet patterns or the economic activity conducted at UJ. This percentage remains constant for the twelfth century and later period. It would seem that birds and terrestrial mammals replaced fish consumption, which seems to contradict the usual Norse pattern. Indeed, instead of an increase in

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Figure 18 Frequency of fish and animal bones as observed in cultural sediments Ratio Fish Bones to Animal Bones 20

Mean Frequency (%)

15

10

Fish Bones Animal Bones

5

0

UJ 1

UJ 2

UJ 3

UJ 4

UJ 5

Thin Sections

fish to the detriment of other species, UJ archaeofauna shows an increase in caprine consumption from the ninth to the twelfth centuries and later. The abundance of avian remains in a midden is unusual and corresponds to an emerging pattern concerning Viking/Norse midden. It seems that the Scandinavian settlers exploited the resource mostly available on the island, mainly puffins and related species. With regards to fish bones, it appears that although most of the species present belong to the gadidae family, their size does not fit the ‘stockfish window’ as all the specimens’ length varies between 30 and 60 cm; this, however, fits the ‘klipfisk window’ with very few specimens corresponding to the stockfish size. Overall, some horizons exhibit the characteristics of farm midden composed of cultivated soils, fuel residues and bones; yet, the lowest ­layers consist mainly of fuel residues and bones. The presence of fragmented fish bones in the lower horizons [360]-[180/297]/[339] and [180/297] attest that, on arrival, the Norse settlers relied on fish for consumption and possibly trade; indeed, and as mentioned above, the size of bones correspond to klipf isk production rather than stockf ish as discussed in the previous chapter. This would show that the settlers exploited available resources. The rarity of anthropogenic features from farming added to the abundance of fish and bird related features in the set of thin sections suggest

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Figure 19 Fish bones and birds bones in assemblage 4000 3500

Total No of Bones

3000 2500 Birds

2000

Fish

1500 1000 500 0 9th-10th c

11th-12th c.

Post-12th c.

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

that soil cultivation was not their primary choice, with pastoralism as their main activity until stabilisation of livestock number at Settlement period. In 2003, the southeast profile of UJ midden was sampled for cultural sediments analyses. This profile shares similarities with the east profile discussed above, with ‘only four of the sixteen sampled midden deposits Figure 20 Junkarinsfløtti archaeofauna Molluscs Birds Seals

Post-12th c.

Whales

11th-12th c.

Fish

9th-10th c.

Domestic Mammals 0

500

1000

1500 NISP

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

2000

2500

3000

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209

are characterised by intensive anthropogenic activity, with the majority of the rest showing a variable, though uniformly far rarer, anthropogenic component’.61 While the southeast profile adds up more horizons than the east one, it appears that it is composed, as the east profile, of charcoal, burnt and unburnt peat and bones. These two profiles show continuity in both the anthropogenic features and windblown sand horizons. Á Sondum Á Sondum is one of the three original Viking Age farms. Its coastal location led to high erosion and S.V Arge investigated the site in 1994. Archaeological investigations in the site continued until 2007. Sampling of the Á Sondum site was undertaken by Ian Simpson and Paul Adderley as part of the Landscapes circum Landnám research programme; this programme considered the initial settlement of the Faeroe archipelago, its landscape and the environmental consequences of human settlement. The Á Sondum site gave the opportunity to consider the formation of an early settlement site and provided contrast with site formation at Undir Junkarinsfløtti, a larger site where there was subsequent village development, on the other side of the bay. A stratigraphy from Á Sondum site was obtained by cutting back of an exposed coastal cliff section; this was then described using Munsell colour and hand texture followed by sampling of undisturbed materials in key horizons in the stratigraphy. The Á Sondum profile (Plate 6) shows discontinuity in the accumulation of cultural deposits unless, as above, the presence of windblown sand is due to climatic condition and the proximity to the beach. The quantity of burnt organic matter such as peat is higher here than in the UJ profile, which would indicate a more land-oriented activity. Organic matter and fish bones are present in the two lowest horizons [138]-[137], which points out that the inhabitants either started exploitation of the surrounding fields as early as Settlement, or that they ‘inherited’ from the island’s inhabitants a pre-existent cultural landscape. For instance, charcoal and charred wood are present throughout the samples that can be interpreted as enrichment of fields since a field system has been identified, rather than fuel residue from burnt peat, which was the common fuel in the Faeroes.62 Besides, the presence of animal manure tends to reinforce such 61 McKenzie, Settlement and site formation in Norse Faroe: a geoarchaeological perspective, p. 5. 62 Arge et al., ‘Viking and Medieval Settlement in the Faroese: People, Place and Environment’, p. 612.

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Plate 6 West profile

interpretations. The presence of charred wood indicates that timber was burnt, yet, as the island is treeless, its origin must originate in driftwood or recycled structural timbers. Plant remains and organic matter at various stages of decomposition were also observed in all thin sections. Such rich organic matter is essential for mesofaunal life, which has been identified. The presence of irregular anecic channels and chambers as well as infillings

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Figure 21 Total of bones collected Á Sondum Archaeofauna

Total No of Bones

3000

2000

1000

Fish

Molluscs

Domestic Mammals

Seals

Whales

Birds

0

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

with droppings and coatings are many faunal activity signatures.63 With regards to the organic matters, the differences in degree of decomposition is interpreted as being the result of anthropogenic activities by various accumulation of organic components to the midden; this is reinforced by the unequal soil animals activity, which development is subjected to the availability of organic components on which they fed.64 Therefore, the bioturbation is indicative of human amendments of soils that is generally observed in cultivated soils. Fragments of fish bones are present but very few animal bones have been identified. These fragments are overall in very good preservation that diverges from the zooarchaeological assemblage where no otoliths (ear stones) were retrieved. Their absence in the profile has been attributed to the low pH content at Á Sondum and their subsequent disintegration due to their elevated content in calcium.65 Yet, the abundance 63 Kooistra and Pulleman, ‘Features Related to Faunal Activity’, in Stoops, Marcelino and Mees (eds.), Interpretation of Micromorphological Features and Regoliths, pp. 397-418. 64 Kühn et al., ‘Textural Pedofeatures and Related Horizons’, in Stoops, Marcelino and Mees (eds.), Interpretation of Micromorphological Features of Soils and Regoliths, pp. 224-225; Adderley et al., ‘Anthropogenic Features’, in Stoops, Marcelino and Mees (eds.), Interpretation of Micromorphological Features of Soils and Regoliths, pp. 569-580. 65 In chemistry, pH is the measure of acidity or basicity of an aqueous solution or soil. The ‘p’ stands for ‘potential to be present’ and the ‘H’ for Hydrogen ions. Any solution with a pH below 7 (between pH 1.0 and pH 6.9 is acid) is low but with a high concentration in Hydrogen ions

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of birds compared to fish is obvious at Undir Junkarinsfløtti, which would indicate that birds were preferred to fish for subsistence (Figure 21). Amorphous orange infills of pore space have been observed; some present a ‘fan-like’ radial crystallization and can be interpreted as calcium-ironphosphate features related to recrystallized fish bones. Others share strong similarities with guano, which, as above, is most probable: the proximity of nesting seabird colonies, the fishing remains exposed are factors that contribute to the presence of birds on site and the subsequent ornithogenic soil formation. Both Undir Junkarinsfløtti and Á Sondum micromorphological analyses yielded unexpected results concerning agricultural remnants in their midden. The abundance of bird bones compared to that of fish bone together with the presence of phosphatic features (amorphous orange-yellow features) in Undir Junkarinsfløtti midden, have been interpreted as guano. In fact, the presence of guano in the midden is justified by the exposition of fish remains attracting seabirds feeding on these remains, the presence of these birds leading to the formation of ornithogenic patches absorbed by the midden. The archaeofauna from both sites yields similar results with a similar abundance of birds on both sites (Figure 22a), which would indicate that the inhabitants consumed birds and fish rather than domestic mammals (Figure 22b). The few discrepancies between the present set of soil samples and the 2002 one, do not alter the interpretations which are analogous. The main difference lies with the bone element and presence of amorphous orange features in the thin sections. While the 2002 cultural sediments analysis noted that identification of bone was rare in the Á Sondum deposits and that several high concentration of yellow-orange to red, ‘faintly anisotropic coatings and infills showing a distinctive ‘fan-like’ radial crystallisation pattern’ were identified and interpreted as calcium-iron-phosphate pedofeatures. These features were explained as fish bone diagenesis through the discharge of calcium and phosphate from bone hydroxyapatite during the chemical process of disintegration of bone, leading to the conclusion that fish processing took place at Á Sondum.66 The present author, however, proposes a rather different interpretation as follows: these features are interpreted as the amalgamation of decomposed bones in lower layers and iron migrating up the profile through disturbance. Indeed, the lack of full observation of diagenetic and if the pH is high (pH 7.1 to pH 14, is alkali), it means that there is a very low concentration of Hydrogen ions or none at all. 66 McKenzie, Settlement and site formation in Norse Faroe: a geoarchaeological perspective, p. 11.

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Figure 22a Compared birds and fish NISP between Undir Junkarinsfløtti and Á Sondum 3500 3000

Total No of Bones

2500 2000 SOND

1500

UJ 1000 500 0

Birds

Fish

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

Figure 22b Birds, fish and domestic mammals NISP at Undir Junkarinsfløtti and Á Sondum 3500 3000

Total No of Bones

2500 2000 1500 SOND 1000

UJ

500 0

Birds

Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

Fish

Domestic Mammals

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process, as well as the presence of an iron pan below the midden, provide enough grounds to withhold from concluding that they are fish bone related. Skeletal elements are also a factor that must be considered before conclusion can be drawn about the economic activity of a site; in the case of the present research, the absence of skeletal elements at Á Sondum leaves the case for fish processing at this site inconclusive. On the other hand, the presence of fish bones in the thin sections shows that a fishing activity happened. Abundance of fish bones added to the skeletal elements retrieved (upper part of the skeleton, essentially heads) tend to indicate that fish was processed for commercial purposes at Undir Junkarinsfløtti; yet, while structures have been identified, to date no archaeological programme has taken place there. The modelling of this site therefore remains challenging. In all probability and with our current knowledge, it was most probably a site were catches were landed for processing; the structures being fishermen’s booths. Á Sondum would therefore be a mid-rank settlement, with the high status of the area being located at Sandur, where the biggest hoard recovered in the Faeroes – and possibly the North Atlantic Islands – several buildings and an industrial area have been unearthed.67

Environmental Archives and Human behaviour: modelling fish based paleo-economies in Iceland and the Faeroes Environmental archives such as soils and bones are the product of human behaviour and subsequent economies. These data generate knowledge that can be tested against primary documents, theories and economic models. Micromorphology proves useful for detection of fragmented fish bones in thin sections, yet, the bone assemblages were essential to determine if the sites discussed were producers of commercial products. The detection of f ish bones in thin sections proves eff icient when fragments were not totally decomposed; however, when the diagenetic alteration (chemistry of degradation) had fully happened, the observation of amorphous yellow and orangey-brown masses is not sufficient to establish the presence of fish bones. While the shape of the amorphous mass – radial or fan-like – points to either the presence of calcium-iron-phosphate features (as found in decomposed fish bone) or that of iron-phosphate features, it cannot, however, be interpreted as fish bones specifically but bones of unknown origin. Actually, the dissolution of features containing calcium 67 Arge and Friel, The Archaeological Investigation Við Kurkjugarð in Sandur, Sandoy.

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such as bones, the presence of iron, the decay of organic matter such as animal dung, guano and similar materials – which cause precipitation of phosphatic features – all add up to form amorphous Ca-Fe-phosphate features. Concerning Á Sondum particularly, the abundance of decayed organic matter indicates a considerable decrease of oxygen in the profile, which facilitated the propagation of Fe throughout the profile, since the midden sits above an iron pan. Therefore, the possibility of bones of any type decaying in higher layers releasing phosphate, which then migrates to lower layers where it reacts to the iron present there, cannot be ruled out. Moreover, the features observed have strong similarities with goethite that is found in bog iron ores, as discussed by Danuta Kaczorek and Michael Sommer68 and George Stoops (personal communication), as well as those identified in farm mounds (where no fish bones were recovered) in the Mývatn area where iron bogs are known, as discussed by Jennifer Brown (personal communication, unpublished PhD). The results of the micromorphological and zooarchaeological analyses are coherent with the farm models elaborated in the previous chapter. Each farm possessed a homefield to produce grass for milking animals, and the presence of a remnant soil for grass cultivation is therefore not contradictory to the exploitation of aquatic resources. Furthermore, the terrestrial attributes of a farm extracting income from the sea were related to the households’ needs and were certainly gender orientated, as discussed in the previous chapter. Even the fishing station at Akurvík showed some ‘green foot’ features in its thin sections, as shown in the table above. To date, it would appear that only successful high-status farms have remained visible and active with constant occupation since they were first established. Yet, ‘apparent’ disappearance of settlements from the landscape, such as Akurvík and Gjögur, does not necessarily mean that they failed but that their economic destination might have changed through the ages. Such sites can, however, be used to understand the economic function within a spatial framework of the main visible farms. When architectural remains are nearly non-existent or totally absent, bone assemblages complement very well soil and sediment analyses and prove fundamental in the interpretation of the economy of the sites as shown below. Sites involved in commercial fishing such as mid-rank status and fishing stations in Iceland clearly appear on the graph below and confirm the models developed in the present study, whereas Vatnsfjörður and Skútustaðir 68 Kaczorek and Sommer, ‘Micromorphology, chemistry, and mineralogy of bog iron ores from Poland’, pp. 393-402.

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Figure 23 Bone assemblages for the case studies presented

9000

Total No of Bones per Species

8000 7000

Birds

6000

Whales

5000

Seals Domestic Mammals

4000

Molluscs

3000

Fish

2000 1000 0

VSF

AVK

GJO SKUT

UJ

SOND

Sites Original data: NORSEC Laboratory Report

correspond to the high-status farms modelled with nearly no fish bones in their assemblages. Concerning the Faeroes, the abundance of fish remains retrieved from Undir Junkarinsfløtti compared to that of Á Sondum is interpreted as the cultural deposit of commercial processing rather than subsistence strategy. The fish remains allow for a better contextualisation of both sites in their cultural environment, Undir Junkarinsfløtti being the fishing station and Á Sondum, the mid-rank farm. Moreover, these sites also seem to present also a large amount of bird bones in their assemblages, especially in the case of Á Sondum. The high amount of bird bones could be interpreted as an opportunistic exploitation of this resource by the Norse settlers at either the initial time of settlement or an adaptation to Faroese practice that developed in response to the resource range available to this island’s inhabitants. Fish that were exploited on a commercialised basis in the North Atlantic during the Viking Age and medieval period were known as stockfish, skreið, and specimens needed to be of a size between ca. 60 and 110 cm length to be air dried. The reconstructed fish-length at the Akurvík fishing station and Gjögur’s farm shows a variation in sizes between the Viking Age period and the medieval period, with a length of approximately 40-70 cm with peaks at 80 cm at Akurvík, whereas the bone assemblage for Gjögur

Geoarchaeology of the Emergence of Commercial Fishing

217

corresponds to the usual ‘stockfish window’, between ca. 60 and 110 cm for the medieval period. Moreover, the species identified confirm that both sites were engaged in commercial fishing from the early to late medieval period. It seems, therefore, that although both stations captured cod, the specimens caught by the Akurvík fishermen were most probably younger than the Gjögur catches; they correspond to the commercial product known as klipfisk. This is interpreted as a year-round fishing strategy rather than a seasonal one. In addition, the fact that the length for the medieval period – twelfth to fourteenth centuries – corresponds to the klipfisk product can be interpreted as an economic choice for multiple reasons. Smaller fish were quicker to dry and easier to transport. Perhaps too, the size was ‘taste’ related and medieval consumers preferred a smaller product. Small specimens are also part of Undir Junkarinsfløtti collection with the skeletal elements leading to the conclusion that they were processed most probably for trade.69 This variation in size is interpreted as a commercial strategy where both stockfish and klipfisk were traded, the former for overseas trade and the latter as internal trade and/or exchange product. The case studies illustrate the fiskgóz model developed for Iceland and the Faeroes but it can be adapted for other Northern European countries. The settlement patterns developed in relation with a commercial fish based economy correspond to the continental and Icelandic manorial system but adapted to the exploitation of aquatic renewable resources.70 The high-status farm is nothing less than the Icelandic aðalból equivalent to the manorial demesne and controlling mid rank farms similar to útjarðir and the small fishing station analogous to leigustaðir. As its land-based counterpart, the ‘fiskgóz’ model was a socio-economic unit which developed and worked in the same way as the manor did. The lack of primary sources should not deter environmental historians to investigate paleo-economies and especially fish based economies. If there are numerous studies on prehistoric and mid to late medieval fishing activity and gears, there seems to be a consensus and accepted theory on commercial fishing from the late iron age to the late thirteenth century. This work shows that we must take a new look on the past without rejecting previous historical studies. It is not pure revisionism but rather to revisit certain theories on socio-economic events with a holistic approach.

69 McGovern et al., An Interim report of a Viking-Age & Medieval Archaeofauna from Undir Junkarinsfløtti, Sandoy, Faroe Islands, p. 13. 70 Júlíusson, ‘Signs Of Power: Manorial Demesne in Medieval Iceland’, p. 3.

VII Conclusion Studies of Viking Age economies and settlements in the North Atlantic have been under way for decades. Collaborative projects between international researchers have opened the path for broad-scale investigations spanning from Norway to Greenland. Yet, Scandinavian researchers and ‘English’ speaking researchers have not always communicated and collaborated effectively. In Great Britain, this led to the idea that Viking Age economic history remained to be written, since very few publications dealt with that topic. The same goes for the availability of primary sources, which are mainly in Old Norse, although there are Latin transcripts and modern Norwegian translations. With regards to Iceland and to a lesser extent the Faeroes, past studies of the settlements and economic systems of the Scandinavian colonists claimed that they transposed their traditional modes of pastoral and agricultural economic activity to their new homelands, regardless of the geographic and environmental differences between Norway and those islands. Some historians have suggested that the political situation in Norway during the ninth century, together with the lack of lands, pushed Norwegians to rebel against their king and to flee to new countries such as the Northern Isles of Scotland, Iceland and the Faeroes. However, it has been stressed that it was the ‘later generations’ who thought that their ancestors moved to Iceland to flee the increasing power of the Norwegian kings.1 Although political struggle might have played a role in the motive behind the migration, on the other hand and as proposed in this thesis, other factors, such as demographic growth, new farming technologies, a need for more cultivable lands, and year round access to abundant f ishing grounds were factors which pushed Norwegians to migrate. There were several ‘Viking’ waves, some landing in the British Isles, especially Orkney and Shetland, Ireland, and others to Iceland and the Faeroes. In Orkney and Northern Scotland, the work of James H. Barrett highlighted dietary and economic patterns specific to Scandinavians ‘[…] the implication of changes in fishing strategies at the Iron Age/Viking Age transition is particularly striking. It is possible that the Norse colonization of Northern Scotland involved fundamental economic changes more consistent with large-scale migration of

1

Sawyer, p. H., Kings and Vikings, p. 58.

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Fish Tr ade in Medieval North Atl antic Socie ties

primary producers than the integration of two cultures or superf icial elite dominance’.2 His study on the use of archaeo-ichthyological evidence for reconstructions of socio-economic patterns opened the way for a new trend in archaeological, palaeo-environmental and palaeo-economy investigations and interpretations through the identification of a ‘fish horizon’ as a signature of both Norwegian settlement and economic activity in archaeological sites.3 However, although one’s thought was that the same ‘horizon’ would be identified in the sites sampled presented in the present work, it appeared that such a ‘fish horizon’ in Iceland is neither as visible nor clear cut as suggested by Barrett; in fact, his model does not apply to the sites tested for the present research. On the basis of the absence of a ‘fish horizon’, the empirical data collected in Iceland and the Faeroes demands a revised interpretation with regards to economic patterns during the Viking Age in the North Atlantic, as well as the identification of a Viking/Norse economic signature in situ as tested in the present work. The increasing number of Viking Age sites exposed in Iceland and to a lesser extent the Faeroes, together with the number of zooarchaeological collections containing an abundance of fish bones in the overall archaeofauna, has permitted revision of models for the emergence of commercial fishing. As very few medieval historians were aware of such zooarchaeological material, discussion of the early medieval history of the settlements and the economic development of both Iceland and the Faeroes consistently exploited the same few primary sources available. As a result, the bulk of academic writings ineluctably and systematically concluded that Iceland’s commercial fish trade started in the late thirteenth century after the 1262-1264 submission to the Norwegian crown. As for the historians who focused on the economic development of Iceland from Landnám, few contemplated the possibility of an Icelandic fish trade event prior to the thirteenth century. The use of primary documents alone happened to be insufficient to support such a claim. The availability of new archaeological and environmental data together with one’s expertise in environmental history, and a strong interest in socio-economic development from the Viking Age to the late medieval period were factors which pushed the present author to construct a research proposal on the emergence of commercial 2 Barrett et al., R., ‘Archaeo-ichthyological Evidence for Long-term Socioeconomic Trends in Northern Scotland: 3500 BC to AD 1500’, pp. 353-388. 3 Barrett et al., R., ‘Archaeo-ichthyological Evidence for Long-term Socioeconomic Trends in Northern Scotland: 3500 BC to AD 1500’, pp. 353-388.

Conclusion

221

fishing in Iceland and the Faeroes. Whereas the question of the emergence of a commercial fish trade in the British Isles and Norway has been researched and discussed since the 1990s, no one questioned the date proposed for the emergence of the very same trade in Iceland and the Faeroes, although environmental data pointed to a rather different story. The aim of the research was therefore to identify the emergence of commercial fishing in Iceland and the Faeroes and to explore the subsequent economy developed by a segment of both populations. The chronological scale was defined according to the Scandinavian waves of migration and settlements of the Faeroes but essentially Iceland. These countries were chosen to generate a hypothesis on the emergence of the commercial exploitation of fish, and the subsequent fish-related economy developed by a segment of the settlers’ population. The claim here is that such economic development occurred from the ninth century with a rapid growth at the turn of the millennium due to increasing demands from continental Europe. A scientific study using stable isotope analysis of archaeological cod bones concluded that the expansion of sea fishing in medieval Europe resulted from a demand-driven intensification with Iceland as a key supplier. 4 This study emphasised that Icelandic cod entered Europe via Bergen as proposed in the present work which shows that historical debates not only belong to the whole research community but also that they can be revisited by using hard sciences. The use of various disciplines in a multi-disciplinary project permits formulation of credible socio-economic models of Viking Age and early medieval which may have played a role in the prosperity of Iceland’s Commonwealth. Before embarking on the core of my research – the emergence of fish trade during Iceland’s earliest historical period – it was essential that I understood the dynamic relationships between Scandinavians and the ecosystem of the Faeroes and Iceland in which they lived. Though it will be simple-minded to believe that my experience of Iceland and the Faeroes resembled that of the Scandinavian settlers, the study of their sagas and legal texts together with fieldworks and walkovers allowed me to grasp better the countries natural resources potential as well as their understanding of their natural environment since a portion of Iceland and Faeroes Viking Age‘s sites remain quite unspoilt by modernity.5 However, some of these sites might 4 Barrett et al., Interpreting the expansion of sea fishing in medieval Europe using stable isotope analysis of archaeological cod bones, p. 7. 5 Edvardsson, R., The role of marine resources in the medieval economy of Vestfirðir, Iceland, p. 36.

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have experienced human disturbances over the centuries mainly due to agricultural practices like field flattening as well as weathering and erosion. Once I had familiarised enough with the texts, landscape and seascape, I realised that the only way for me to revise the accepted dating for the emergence of commercial fish trade was to develop a holistic methodology in which theoretical and empirical data would merged so as to cover as many fields of inquiry as possible. My background as a medieval environmental historian played a key role in both the understanding of non-historical data as well as the integrative approach designed. One of the aims of the present project was to propose a new methodology, flexible and adaptable to environmental history studies. The flexibility lies with the choice of disciplines used which remains the researcher’s preference in that it is her responsibility to select the most suitable f ields to the best interest of the project. Here, training was a key factor in the success or failure of the study. One’s collaboration with international teams, expert in Viking and early medieval archaeology and zooarchaeology proved effective although it was highly challenging. Indeed, such empirical work was demanding and asked for a sound capacity to adapt and digest new theories and methods. However, it was highly rewarding, for it enabled the production of a coherent and new narrative. The use of soil, sediments and bone analyses provided the raw material from which models interacting with the natural environment were produced (this is known as ‘grounded theory’).6 Palaeoenvironmental data, zooarchaeological and geoarchaeological evidence offered a more balanced view than the sole use of historical sources would do. Similarly, this enabled the research to avoid the historiographical problem of both Norse/Norwegian perspectives and an Icelandic bias. The integration of all these disciplines within an historical framework made possible the building of challenging hypotheses regarding Iceland’s early economic dynamics and to revive the debate regarding the Viking Age and medieval Icelandic fish trade. As Brian Fay claims, ‘[…] historians have always known that the natural environment plays a signif icant role in how humans behave’7; one of the newest thing in the present work is that the multi-transdisciplinarity methodology was designed and conducted solely by myself. As already touched in chapter III, archaeology and environmental sciences used in an environmental history research 6 The grounded theory is a research methodology, which first collects data and then produces theory. 7 Fay, ‘Environmental History: Nature at Work’, History and Theory, p. 1.

Conclusion

223

offers a unique perspective on Viking Age and early medieval fish trade topic in the so-called ‘North Atlantic Realm’.8 The focus of the research lies in the set of questions related to the emergence of a fish-based economy from Settlement onwards, the first step was to present the works on the Viking World in general to contextualise Iceland’s and the Faeroes’ history and economic growth. Then, recent published research was reviewed so as to identify key points for the present project. The review showed that various projects touching on Iceland’s and the Faeroes’ social and economic development from the ninth century onwards have been conducted over the last few decades. However, it was not possible to identify genuine new work on the topic developed in the present work. This historiography was used as a basis for the thesis’ main aim, which was to demonstrate that all the prerequisites for the emergence of commercial fisheries prior to the late thirteenth century were in place. Indeed, anthropological studies and theories relating to fishing and fishing communities yielded valuable data with regards to social organization and gender activity, which in turn widened the spectrum of the research. This historiographical review has highlighted that most historical works tend to conclude that commercial fishing post-dates the late thirteenth century, yet, palaeo-environmental data drew a rather different conclusion. The next step was to assess the role and place of fishing activity from Viking Age to the medieval period in the Icelandic sagas and various primary sources. As already mentioned in the Sagas and Archives chapter, while no contemporary written sources for the earliest historical period exist, later sagas as well as Landnámabók read of Norwegians settling in Iceland, establishing fishing station and collecting taxes for anyone fishing on their waters or using their stations. These sources also indicate high fishing grounds which had been testified by modern narratives and marine hard sciences projects. The methodology exposed the need for a specific theoretical framework to be developed to fit the idiosyncrasies of the present work. These idiosyncrasies were the necessity to integrate empirical data and primary sources within an environmental history framework. Concepts and theories used in social sciences were discussed since they formed the theoretical background of the present research. They were further used to construct a framework for the economic and environmental reconstructions proposed in chapter 5. In chapter 4, Icelandic laws, archives and narratives dealing 8 Coles and Housley, ‘ Introduction: Economies, Environments and Subsistence in the North Atlantic’, Atlantic Connections and Adaptations, Economies, environments and subsistence in lands bordering the North Atlantic, xi.

Value

Sagas Preservation Function

Work force Risk Control Legislation Primary sources

Raw material

Equipment

Geography/ location Season Species

Year round and seasonal Salmonidae apodes

Year round Gadidae, clupidae, apodes Boats, nets, lines(?), hooks Iron, vaðmál, horse hair, wood From 3 High Limited Grágás Church covenant / Royal grant National/regional assemblies agreements Civil covenant

Fishing Fiskjar

Low Variable

Apodes

In-fjörds

Air dried, salted Salted, smoked? Subsistence & Social & religious mercantile Depends on High demand & species

Grágás Church covenant National/regional assemblies’ agreements Civil covenant

High

From 1

Idem

Boats, nets, traps, lines, hooks

Lakes, rivers, linns

Off coast

Fish-hunting Fiskveiði In-fjords

High

Beaches

Stranded whale Hvalreið

High

Air dried Bones for artefacts Subsistence, mercantile & social

None Variable Full Grágás Church covenant National/regional assemblies’ agreements Civil covenant Limited

From 3

Idem

Boats, harpoons, spears

Year round Whales

Off coast

Whale-hunting Hvalveiði

224  Fish Tr ade in Medieval North Atl antic Socie ties

Conclusion

225

with fishing and fish related activities were analysed since they provide for the narrative exposure of commercial fishing in Iceland and to a certain extent the Faeroes. In chapter 5 and as already mentioned, anthropology and economic anthropology were particularly useful to develop the hypothesis on the emergence of commercial fishing and the subsequent socio-economic developments, from the ninth to the later fifteenth centuries. The thesis was based on Hawke’s ladder of inference. Hawke’s ladder ranked the inferences that could be made about a past society from its archaeological evidence according to the ease with which such inferences could be made. The ladder is made of seven levels of inference: at the bottom rung – the easiest level of inference – was technical processes. Next up was ‘subsistence economics’, then social and political institutions. This proved to be an efficient tool, which allowed the conception of a credible chronological development of fishing activities during the period under study. A socio-economic system was created, the legal framework was provided by Icelandic laws and regulations, day-to-day life was discussed through the prism of gender activity and historical analogues; again, written sources rendered visible a segment of the Icelandic population that was involved in fishing as a ‘profession’. The exploitation of aquatic resources was developed through the ages, from the emergence of fish trading for mercantile purposes in the early tenth century, to the discovery and creation of the Newfoundland fisheries and the desertion of the Icelandic fishing grounds by international traders in the late fifteenth century. Environmental determinism was explored as a possible theoretical route for the understanding of human-environment interactions and economic systems in Iceland and the Faeroes. As noted earlier, however, the lack of suitable lands for cultivation, the dearth of palatable terrestrial fauna, as well as various environmental factors -climatic conditions, volcanic eruptions, and soil acidity- were amongst many attributes, which put heavy constraints on the favourable development of pastoralism and agriculture in Iceland and the Faeroes. Although, an agro-system model – CENTURY model – combining soils, climate and land management data, generated grain harvest estimates from AD 871 to AD 15009 and concluded that subsistence crop growing could have continued after the climatic deterioration of the 1400s A.D., it remains the cases that crops production did not produce surpluses for a non-subsistence economy.10 The fact that Iceland’s crops 9 Simpson et al., ‘Soil Limitations to Agrarian Land Production in Premodern Iceland’, p. 425. 10 Ibid, p. 439. Although it is commonly acknowledged that climate is a key factor in grain production, this research demonstrated that climate was not such a limiting cause but rather

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provided for subsistence only and were therefore not enough for the whole population (various primary sources highlighted that Norway supplied Iceland in wheat and flour) confirmed one’s view that Icelanders were most probably exploiting other natural resources in order to generate enough surpluses that would allow them to develop a parallel economy that could remain independent of Norway; the provision of Norwegian wheat and flour can be considered as an economic exchange for Icelandic dried fish rather than Iceland’s dependency on Norway. Therefore, following economic anthropological models of human exploitation of the surrounding environment, the concept of resource possibilism was developed for Iceland’s fishing related economy. It is based on human choice in contrast to determinism, which implies a less voluntarist exploitation of the environment and its natural resources. An interesting point in resource possibilism is that it does not necessarily exclude a deterministic analysis of the environment but rather offers the possibility of interface between both concepts. The resource possibilism model is grounded in systems theory that brings together principles and concepts from anthropology, economic anthropology, and behaviourism amongst others. This synthesis enables a holistic approach, as expressed by Talcott Parsons who developed an ‘action’ theory mostly applied in the field of social science.11 For Parsons, human actions must be understood in conjunction with the motivational element of the human act, and the need to adapt to a ‘physical-organic environment’: in order to meet with the basic needs of society’s members – such as food and shelter provision – humans must control or adapt to their environment.12 The dichotomy developed by Parsons between ‘control or adaptation’, however, is not mutually exclusive, and it seems that prior to the action of ‘control’, an understanding of the living systems will lead to an adequate adaptation to the environment, the adjustment of pre-existing technology to that specific environment, and the exploitation of its resources. With regards to ‘control’, as it is beyond human scope to fully control the environment and its living systems, one would shift from Parsons’ theory, in replacing ‘control’ by ‘manage’. However, it cannot be ruled out that past societies were the ‘result’ of their choice of action within a given environment. The hierarchical Icelandic society was organized between farmers and fishing groups with chieftains holding power through exploitation of land and/ or sea resources with a class of free and polyvalent men working for both that land management was the key aspect in crop production. 11 Parsons, T., The Structure of Social Action, pp. 43-86. 12 Parsons, T., The Evolution of Societies, pp. 4-6.

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economic groups. Fishermen must have looked at farms as an important source of income: these farms constituted a part of their market for fish and a possibility of earning extra money as farmhands in case of a decrease in fishing activity. For farmers, those fishing groups were also a source of revenue as in the case of hiring stock. For instance, fishermen’s wives could have been involved in farming activities such as the production of dairy items and milk for their households. Moreover, those who owned a ship enjoyed a higher degree of self-sufficiency and economic attainment since they were able to fish for subsistence and non-subsistence and to enter various networks whether transport or trading ones as shown with the hypothesis developed in chapter 5, where settlement patterns were modeled according to their role in commercial fishing and were tested in the subsequent chapter. Chapter  6’s principal aim was to test and verify the historical and environmental reconstructions of the emergence of commercial fishing using zooarchaeology and micromorphology. The exploitation of bone assemblages proved efficient, leaving no doubt of the economic purposes of the sites, whereas the interpretation of cultural sediment analyses appeared to be more challenging than previously thought; the micromorphological analyses provided less clear-cut results concerning the sites ‘economic activity. Although the analyses focused on midden formation as well as features related to fish – subsistence and non-subsistence strategies – one difficulty lies with the number of samples employed; these appeared to be too few to achieve a proper ‘snapshot’ of what happened and how it happened. With regards to the farms’ models, they fit Iceland better than the Faeroes, which were already inhabited by Irish monks at the time of the Scandinavian colonization. In the archipelago, it appears that the Scandinavians settled within an already modified cultural landscape; yet Barrett’s Norse ‘fish horizon’ did not fully emerge in the cultural deposits investigated. There is also no such event visible in the Icelandic sites tested. The middens – farm mounds – shared the usual farming features and dietary patterns showed that, overall, the settlers preferred domestic mammals and birds to fish (cod) in high status and mid-rank settlements. The abundance and skeletal elements of marine fish at the inland site of Skútustaðir, speaks of a coastal-inland trade of fresh and dried cod. The consumption of fresh cod appears more important than that of dried products; this can be interpreted as a possible preference for fresh products. The site of Akurvík, which is an acknowledged fishing station since Settlement, did not yield fish bones or fishing related features in the set of thin sections developed for analysis; yet, fish bones were still visible in the profile sampled which confirmed

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the 1990 zooarchaeological investigation. Indeed, the presence of shells in the thin sections prove that the pH value was high and that acidity did not destroy the bones which have been therefore very well preserved in the sand matrix. With regards to Gjögur’s profile, although there is no doubt that this site was a mid-rank farm where fish were landed, processed and dried, its midden and structures remain to be fully investigated. Finally, Vatnsfjörður proved to be a perfect model of a high-status settlement with its architectural attributes, satellite farms, sea and land access. Its farm mound yielded valuable data about dietary habits, highlighting a clear preference for domestic mammals and molluscs rather than fish from initial settlement onwards. In the Faeroes, it seems that Undir Junkarinsfløtti has all the features – bones and soils – and attributes of a production site while Á Sondum is interpreted as a mid-rank farm with agricultural activity rather than a fish-processing site. The high status farm was most probably Sandur with its ‘unique’ walled building (the walls were constructed of an inner lining of stones, of which up to five courses are still preserved, while on the outer side they were, as the Faeroese say, ‘baked’ by a turf wall 1.5m wide), church and cemetery, as well as an ‘industrial area’ located in the present churchyard.13 Carbon dating of barley grains from a burnt floor-layer sampled during the 2008 excavation season yielded dates from the ninth century, which corresponds to the first wave of Norse colonists. The size and abundance of skeletal elements retrieved in Akurvík and Undir Junkarinsfløtti point out that younger, and hence smaller specimens, were caught and processed, perhaps for subsistence and certainly as a staple for trade. The former interpretation would indicate that fishermen and those involved in commercial fishing kept the smaller specimens for consumption, whereas the latter interpretation points to another ‘size window’, known as klipfisk, for commercial fish trade. The interesting point lies with a proposed earlier date – from twelfth century onwards – for the emergence of a klipfisk trade in Iceland and the Faeroes. Overall, traces left by commercial fisheries for both internal and overseas trade remain more identifiable in the geoarchaeological and zooarchaeological records from fish processing centres – fishing stations – than mid-rank farms. This difference is mostly due to the abundance of fish remains left in situ; whereas the mid-rank settlement presents the ‘usual’ North Atlantic farm mounds’ characteristics, with both agricultural and marine resources exploitation remains. Furthermore, in the case of places inhabited prior 13 Arge and Friel, The Archaeological Investigation Við Kurkjugarð in Sandur, Sandoy.

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to the Norse arrival, as in the Faeroes, archaeological sites might retrieve cultural deposits belonging to both the indigenous population and the new colonists. The interpretation of midden materials therefore depends largely on the identification of such overlapping transitional deposits when the two economic behaviours merge. Within these anthropogenic profiles, differentiation between subsistence and non-subsistence strategies rests on both the amount and the specific skeletal elements of fish remains collected per cultural deposit. However, it remains challenging to differentiate between the traces left by fisheries conducting internal trade and those left for overseas trade. Yet, the Faeroese site has shown that smaller specimens could potentially have been traded; the next step is to include this new ‘klipfisk window’ in zooarchaeology strategies with regards to bone collection and interpretation. The present study has focused on the relationships between places of production, distribution and consumption of fish in Iceland and the Faeroes and presented how internal exchange of a specific product might shift to trade with a segmentation of the population specializing in crafts and various trade associations. It is my view that such a move towards specialization between marine and farming activities occurred in the early period of settlement, when land-claim enabled newcomers to settle large areas covering different ecological zones. The exploitation of the written material, both primary sources and history text books, has shown that fish did play a role in the Icelandic economy as a trading staple for consumption and profit but also as a currency. The fact that numerous species live off the coast of Iceland all year round was certainly a key factor in such development. The official adoption of Christianity in AD 1000 together with the establishment of religious houses must surely have boosted the exploitation of fish strengthening the trade networks within Iceland and abroad. In fact, Iceland’s conversion could be seen either as a strategy of local chieftains willing to integrate a pan-European trade network or to maintain their political and economic superiority by supplying the Icelandic Church with all the commodities needed and especially f ish where only dairy products and f ish could be eaten. Through the modelling of specialised workers, a hierarchy emerged with at its head chieftains, and there is little doubt that some of the most powerful chieftains were supported by the Norwegian crown. However, it is not to understand that all who were involved in commercial fishing had ‘dependency’ ties with Norway. The formulation of models for Viking Age and early medieval socio-economic development highlighted that Icelandic

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society was economically active and diversified between exploitation of land and aquatic resources. This diversified activity in turn contributed to the relative prosperity of Iceland’s Commonwealth. Although it has been highlighted that some Icelandic chieftains were relatively close to the Norwegian kings, nonetheless, the political and economic relationships between Norway and Iceland should be understood in terms of reciprocity and parity rather than dependency and colony. I do not consider that work as final on the emergence of fish trade in Iceland and the Faeroes in the Viking Age and pre-thirteenth century. On the contrary, it is hoped that some of the new models presented will be used and developed further alongside with archaeological projects. In 2010, Edvardsson noted that a number of sites were found during surveys that were not recorded in written sources.14 For instance, while the three settlements models presented could be exploited by archaeologists and environmental scientists and historians, making them widely available to the general public would considerably increase the chance of identifying new and unrecorded sites. Economic-anthropological modelling was mainly possible due to the reading approach of the sagas that thoroughly extracted environmental and ethnographical data embedded in fictional description and while some might still oppose the way one’s used these sources, the approach proved effective. Yet, human ecodynamics in the North Atlantic are complex and still to be written.

14 Edvardsson, The role of marine resources in the medieval economy of Vestfirðir, Iceland , p. 150

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Index Á Sondum mid-rank farm 216, 228 Viking Age structure 179, 204, 208-215 Adam of Bremen 26 Alþíng 26 exchange of goods at 164-165 and farmers 143-144 as market places 143-145 and Norwegian kings 97 role in the Commonwealth 137 and the settlement of Iceland 74-77 traders 86 Akurvík 178, 180-181, 188-195, 215-217, 227-228 Are Thorgilsson 75 Árneshreppur 178, 180 Arnold of Lubeck (d.1212) 161 Aud the Deep-Minded 73-74 Bandamanna saga 26, 86 Bergen 87, 96, 101, 134, 156, 159, 161, 163, 221 boat 39, 43, 91, 113, 115, 131, 138, 144, 149, 224 acquisition 159 construction 28, 151, 159 crew 159 ferry 91 fishing 22, 27, 130, 159 hiring 80, 85 houses 196 Icelandic fleet 93-94 legislation and 94 letting 94-95 Norwegian 93, 128 partnership 95 repair 151, 193 rowing 52 in written sources 159 Book of Settlement see Landnámabók Cabot John 164 chieftains (goði) at Alþíng 144 and Christianity 32, 165 and commercial fishing 26, 161 feuds 121 as king’s lieges 98 land ownership 30, 154 as pagan priests 152 political and spiritual power of 156 river ownership 83 and sagas 31, 79, 142, 147, 149, 168, 226, 229-230 and taxation 123 in the Westfjords 98-99 christianisation / christianity 23, 32, 40, 68, 76, 123, 140, 147, 153, 229

commercial exchanges and 165 and development of fisheries 20, 82 fish and 152-154, 156 and fish demand 32 of Iceland 31-32, 79, 82, 152 church 24-25, 30, 77-78, 149, 181, 194-195, 196, 224, 228-229 Catholic 31 covenant 81 and fisheries control 40, 83, 151, 153-156 and fishermen 135 land ownerships 83 and pagan temples 147 and privileges 89, 92 and rivers ownerships 32, 81-82 in settlement patterns 148 and tensions with chieftains 121 as wealth apparatus 26 cod 17, 29, 33, 38-41, 64, 80-81, 84, 114, 126, 127n, 128-130, 133, 139, 154-155, 163, 172, 175-177, 188, 217, 221, 227 Commonwealth 46 as Atlantic 136-137 and core and periphery 133 development of 47, 132 disappearance of 79 economic 101, 125, 136-137, 141, 155 economic model 221 Faeroes in 133-134, 136, 155 farmers 70 and navigation 25 prosperity of 221, 230 trade 133-134 consilience 54 Copenhagen 35, 67, 162-163, 181 Diplomatarium Islendicum 66, 77-79, 82, 87, 93, 149, 153 economic within anthropology 58-59 aquatic resources 123 definition of 57 expansion 17 marginality and 110 model in medieval Europe 30 modelling 104, 112 network 135 ninth century development 221 subsistence and non-subsistence 127 system in Iceland 16 Egils saga farms in 81 historicity of 67 King Harald in 101

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ships 94-95, 101 traders in 86 Eiríkr Magnússonar (1280-1299), king 89 England 99, 120, 163 and commercial exchanges 88-90, 156, 160, 162 ports 162 environmental determinism 49, 115-119, 123-125, 225-226 Eric Blood Axe (930-934), king 160 Eyrbyggja saga 69, 140 Faeroes archaeological sites 229 bird bones 216 chieftains 80, 99 climate and geography 107-108, 111-112, 164 and commercial fishing 17, 49, 52, 103, 124, 134, 225, 228-230 and contact with Norway 96, 99, 111, 120, 161 economic development 19, 22, 30, 46, 51, 223 and environmental sciences research 15, 18, 32, 37-38, 54, 59, 64 exploitation of aquatic resources 124-129 fish remain in 209, 216 Norse settlers and settlement 63, 104, 106-107, 110, 115-116, 150, 167, 169, 204, 209, 214, 217, 220-221, 227, 229 and primary sources 16, 44-45, 48, 57, 65-67, 141 in published material 14, 33-36, 42, 219 farm 43, 45, 57, 63, 79, 81, 92, 159, 170-171 in the Faeroes 35, 37 farm mound/midden 172-173, 185-187, 193, 197, 203, 207, 215, 227-228 farmers and fishermen 20, 32, 63, 95, 104, 136, 140, 156, 226-227 and farming 16, 27, 44, 52, 62-63, 77, 114, 152, 198, 219, 227, 229 and fishing 82-83, 86, 114-115, 134, 138, 144, 146, 162, 164 models 122, 133, 147-151, 154, 168, 178-181, 188, 193-195, 215-217, 227 and products 26, 149 satellite 147, 228 source of income 227 Finnbogastaðir 194 as a high-status farm 195 fish bones 172, 174-175, 178, 203, 209, 214-215, 217, 229 and chieftains 161 commercial size of 138-139, 216-217 development 153, 162, 220-221 in diet 22, 39-41, 102, 208 dried 24 European 140, 162-163 Iceland and Faeroes riverine species 131-132 as indicator of subsistence 228

marine species in Iceland and Faeroese waters 127-130 national 130, 188, 229 navigation and development of 157-160 Norse fish horizon 176-178, 220 and Norway’s monopoly of trade 133 in sagas 25 in Scotland 114 spawning 130 stock of 135 trade, in Iceland 14-15, 17-18, 22-25, 33-34, 101, 103, 111, 114, 123, 148, 151, 154, 228 value of fish 127 fisheries history of 15, 18 and Iceland Settlement 23, 27 and lack of in Iceland 24 Newfoundland 18 Norwegian 24 salmon 81 sea rights 80-81 fishermen behaviour and resilience 113-114 Christianity and 20 as communities 15, 44-45, 84-85, 114, 127, 136 disinterest in 18 European 18 Faeroese 103 as free men 226 historical approach to 42 origin of 127 as specialised workers 137 fishing camp 79 coastal 127 commercial 21, 46, 93, 122-123, 160, 165, 178-182, 220-222, 224, 229 in the Faeroes 104, 142 fishing settlements see settlement gears 43, 114-115, 149 gender and 151-152 grounds 225 Iceland seasonal/commercial 80, 104, 127 in Icelandic and Faeroes waters 126-127, 130 intensification of 38-40, 103 as a marginal activity 111 processing 228 rights 80-81, 142 riverine conditions as described in Landnámabók 131 riverine fishing 80 riverine rights 83 for subsistence 121, 130-131 free men 94, 135, 165, 168 Gisli saga gift-exchange 90 merchants 140 trading ship 95

Index

Gizur (d. 1117) bishop 97 and his son/paying taxes in Iceland and Norway 99 Gjögur 178, 180-188 archaeological profile of 228 and overseas trade markets 188, 195, 215-216 Grágás 66, 74, 76-77, 82, 86, 90, 96, 106, 121, 131, 142, 144, 149, 161, 224 guilds 90, 141 Hákon Hákonarsonar (1217-1263), king 89, 154 Hanseatic / Hansards monopoly over fish trade 134, 136, 162 as traders 161-162 Harald Fine-hair (c. 872-930) king 73 in sagas 79, 101 and ship 95 and timber 97 Harald Greycloack (960-975), king 99 Hebrides / Hebridean 73 Heimskringla 36, 99 Helgi the Lean 73, 196 Henry II of England (1154-1189), king 89 Henry III of England (1216-1272), king 88-89 Innocent IV (1243-1254), Pope 154 Íslendingabók 66, 73 description of Iceland’s settlement 74-76 Íslendingasögur (The Sagas of the Icelanders) historicity of 68, 70-72 and the Viking-Age 29 John, Lackland (1199-1219), king of England 87 Ketil Flat-Nose 79-80 klipfisk 207, 217 and trade 228-229 Landnámabók and fishing rights 82 on sailing to Norway 159, 223 and settlers 120, 127, 138, 198 ships 91, 94, 131, 138 as a source 72-74, 79 as a transcript of oral tradition 69 women in 86 landscape 15, 107, 136, 169, 196 concept of 20, 66, 150, 227 reconstruction of 61, 115, 166-169 visibility of settlements in 44, 56, 112, 145, 215 Lofoten Islands 39, 127 longue durée approach 55, 104 Magnús Erlíngsson (1161-1184), king 89 Iceland privilege 89, 100, 156

253 market in anthropology 46, 58 and chieftains 143, 156 in Denmark 96, 141 economy 110, 127, 143, 155-156, 160 and fishermen 227 Flemish 161 Iceland and European/overseas 23-24, 87-88, 103, 134, 139-140, 160-165, 188 national and regional see Alþíng in Norway 96, 159-160 Scanian 161 merchants discovering Iceland 87 from Europe, overseas/foreign 24, 36, 88, 90, 96, 100, 143, 156, 161-163 Faeroese 140-141 Icelandic 13, 22, 26, 66, 86, 88-89, 91, 101, 111, 144, 155, 161 network 165 and selling ship 159 navigation/seafaring Faeroes’ discovery 157 and farm 94 Icelandic 19, 86, 91, 94, 105, 109 regulations 159-160 seamen 90 Viking/Scandinavian 12, 19, 108 Nidaros (Niðaros) 25, 34, 67, 78, 89, 100 Norway civil war 71 disputes over fish trade in 161-162 and the Faeroes 34 fishing 29, 38-39, 83, 103, 133-134, 156, 226 fishing grounds in Iceland 125 gender activity 44 history of 35, 79 and Iceland development 22, 25, 33, 36, 47, 81, 89, 121 Icelanders rights/privileges in 92, 97, 165 and Icelandic chieftains 98 and merchants 37, 96, 121, 140-141 and Norse settlers of Iceland and the Faeroes 73, 86, 94, 103-104, 119-120, 127, 146, 219 Norwegian kings and Iceland/Icelanders 75-76, 78-79, 96, 98 as part of the Commonwealth 111, 136, 230 sailing from Iceland to 159 as spoken language in Iceland and the Faeroes 142 timber and building ships in 96, 133, 159 Olaf II Haraldsson, The Saint (1014-1028), king 92 grant 100-101 and taxes in the Faeroes 99 treaty with Icelanders 96-97

254 

Fish Tr ade in Medieval North Atl antic Socie ties

Pliny 121 primary sources Faeroes 34-36, 219 lack of 13-14, 16, 29, 40, 47, 54, 65, 97, 217 merchants in 141 use of 19, 43, 48, 50-52, 66-67, 77, 219-220, 223-224, 226, 229 Regesta Norvegica and birds of prey 88 and Icelanders’ rights in Norway 92 as modern collection of record sources 66 Reykjavík 69, 87, 144 Saga of the Greenlanders 159 Saga of the People of Laxardal 79-80 Saga of the People of Vatnsdal and fishing rights 81-82 Norwegian timber 97 sagas in bookprose and freeprose 28, 67, 71 and fishing 47, 161, 223-224 as historical source 17, 23, 25-29, 48, 50-53, 65-70, 72-73, 101, 221 methodological approach to 70, 230 salmon fishing 32, 79-81, 83, 198 and fishing rights 80, 154 as native species of Iceland 131-132 salmonid 33, 128, 131, 175, 224 as subsistence fish 127n57 Sandur 204 as high-status farm 228 settlement fishing station 179 high-status farm 172, 180, 216 mid-rank farm 172, 228 natural resources and 120 patterns and fishing 20, 55, 145-151, 164, 203 in Scandinavia 17 seasonality of 121 ship and cargo 91-93, 95, 160-161, 163 and chieftains 26, 95, 88 masters 90, 94, 137-138, 160 share 90, 95 shipbuilding 47, 91-92, 159 and traders/trading 66, 72, 86, 88-91, 94, 96, 121, 160, 227 silver and anchorage taxes in Norway 93 coin in the Faeroes 204 as a currency 80 merchants and 91, 161 paying taxes with in Iceland 153-154 paying taxes with in Norway 99 and value of fish 83, 85

sites coastal and inland 30, 32-33, 63, 144, 146, 178, 203 cultural deposits 171, 229 economic activity of 27, 176, 227 within environmental framework 167-169 finding of 230 fishing and fish processing 33, 39, 177, 196, 214 formation process of 61-62 interpretation of 60, 170 in Scotland 38, 40 settled by Norse 39, 221, 229 Skútustaðir 11, 198-204 high-status 215 in primary sources 198 tephra (volcanic deposit) 169 and trade 227 Sverrir Sigurðarson (1184-1202), king 71 and Iceland’s merchants 101 taxes, payment of 76 Church tithes 153 on fish 154 on goods imported to Iceland 87, 99 land 99 in Norway 76, 93, 99 whaling and 154 Tórshavn 145 trade Atlantic and North European 13, 19, 157, 159-160, 165 and cod 17 Iceland 13, 16 network 22, 141, 143 with Norway 99, 100 in the sagas 73 traders see merchants Trondheim 100, 159 Undir Junkarinsfløtti 179, 204-208, 212 fishing station 216, 228 Vaðmal 24, 85, 99, 147, 151, 154, 224 Vatnsfjörður 74, 178, 195-198 high-status 215 Viga-Glums saga, Norwegian merchant in 100 Viking Age economic history of 219 economy 27 in the Faeroes 37 in Iceland 15 sites 220 stockfish/skreið 216 trade 24 Viking waves 219 Vorþíng, and dried fish 84 Yarmouth 87-88