Living in Scandinavia and settling in some of the coldest habitable regions on Earth, the Vikings were masters at overcoming long, dark winters. But without electricity or central heating, how did the Vikings not only survive, but thrive, through the cold months?
Life in the Viking-age was controlled by the passage of the seasons, with the time of year deciding what you ate, what work there was to be done and how you spent your leisure time. Though farming and raiding were on hold during the winter, the colder months were still incredibly busy for the Vikings. With food harder to come by and plenty to prepare for a successful agricultural season, there was a great deal to occupy the average Norseman or woman before the arrival of Spring.
Keeping Warm
Getting through a Scandinavian winter (let alone a winter in Iceland or Greenland) requires a solid strategy to keep warm. This came as second nature to the Vikings: everything from clothing to architecture was designed to keep the cold at bay.
Clothes for men and women were both largely made from wool and linen, which they could produce themselves by keeping sheep and growing flax seeds. Men would typically wear a tunic tied with a belt over long trousers, while women’s wardrobes considered apron-style dresses, fastened with brooches at the shoulders and worn over leggings if the weather necessitated. During the winter, both genders would wear long overcoats made from either wool or leather. Clothes-making was a Viking woman’s primary job, taking up a significant amount of her time year-round. Women were responsible for weaving thread and yarn, making fabrics, sewing them into clothes and then repairing garments if they got torn.
Without central heating, the design of Viking homes was also based around keeping their inhabitants warm indoors. The long-house was a single room laid out around a central hearth, with a hole in the roof to allow smoke to escape. Despite the hole, the curved shape of a long-house ceiling channelled heat back downwards, warming the home evenly.
The hearth was not just for warmth, but also for cooking. During the winter, Vikings had little access to fresh fruit and vegetables, making them more reliant than ever on hunting and fishing. Smoked, cured or salted meat, preserved earlier in the year, was also a staple during this time, meaning that winter diets were high in fat and protein. This was a time of hearty soups and stews - excellent for keeping bodies and spirits warm.
Keeping busy
Even with no crops to tend or voyages to set sail on, the winter offered its own crucial work to keep Viking hands busy. There was still plenty to do on the farm, from tending to livestock to preparing tools for sowing season. This was also a prime opportunity for small jobs that might be left to the wayside during busier seasons. Replacing a worn-down rope or repairing a fence might not be a priority during the harvest, but winter offered plenty of time to see to these small tasks.
Hunting and fishing were also vital tasks in a Viking’s winter schedule. Without produce growing on the farm or wild fruits and nuts to collect in the forests, Norsemen and women relied on meat to sustain them through the cold months. Vikings hunted a wide range of wild game, from reindeer to rabbits. Animals were not only valuable for their meat, but also for their skin. Fur and leather could be used to bulk up the family’s seasonal wardrobe, or else fetch a fine price in a Middle Eastern market when the summer trading season arrived.
Despite the heightened importance of hunting during the winter, the thick Scandinavian snow could make successfully bringing home a meal all the more difficult. It’s more difficult to penetrate a forest in the snow, and prey animals have excellent hearing to detect a crunching footstep. Though today we might think of skiing as little more than an expensive mountain sport, skis were vital to the Vikings’ success when it came to moving and hunting during winter. Skis move stealthily through the snow, making it easier to sneak up on unsuspecting prey and travel long distances without dropping from fatigue. Skiing was such an important skill for a master huntsman that Ullr, the Norse god of hunting and archery, is equally known as a divinely gifted skier.
Keeping Merry
Anyone can survive the winter so long as they're warm and fed, but Vikings were masters of thriving during the cold season. We all know about the Norse celebration of Yule: a midwinter festival calling for lights, feasting and merriment during the darkest part of the year. Anyone who celebrates Christmas in the modern-day will understand the importance of a beloved celebration to keep spirits high when cold days and long nights reign supreme.
But Viking winter culture was more than just Yule, bringing with it a slew of seasonal leisure activities to enjoy the cold. As well as storytelling, music and board games which helped while away the hours indoors, Vikings loved to ice-skate on frozen rivers and lakes. Ice skates are one of the most common archaeological finds from the Viking-era across Scandinavia and Britain. The blades were made of animal bone, and were tied to regular shoes with leather straps.
Ice skating wasn’t the only seemingly modern pastime that kept Nordic spirits up during the winter. There is also some evidence that the Vikings enjoyed snowball fights, and even used them to teach children military tactics. Kids were encouraged to build snow forts, which they had to defend from an onslaught of snowballs from their peers. This is attested in ‘The History of the Nordic Peoples’ by the 16th-century Bishop of Uppsala Olaus Magnus.
]]>From East to West, and North to South, the Viking world spanned thousands of kilometres. Taking in their entire network is a momentous task; far more than can be covered in one short article. So let’s focus right now on the Vikings’ dominance over the North Atlantic Ocean, tracing their route from Scandinavia to modern-day Canada.
Beyond the North Sea
Given the meaning of ‘Viking’ as ‘pirate’ or ‘raider,’ the Viking-age isn’t usually said to have begun until 793 when Nordic sailors attacked the island of Lindisfarne off the Eastern coast of England. Shortly after their first forays into raiding across the North Sea, the Vikings set up their first settlements in the British Isles. By the end of the 9th century, there were Norse settlements in modern-day England, Scotland, Ireland and the Isle of Man, and large areas of Britain were under Scandinavian rule.
But the Vikings had their ambitions set further afield than their closest Westward neighbours. In the late 800s, Norway was suffering from having too many people and too little farmland. Meanwhile, constant clashes with native British and Irish populations didn’t make the British Isles the most attractive destination to establish new, permanent settlements. It’s at this point that Norwegians looked northwest to Iceland: a known, unpopulated land where Scandinavians could migrate without entering into conflict with locals. In 874, Ingólfr Arnarson founded the first Viking colony on the island, which, according to archaeological evidence, was almost entirely occupied within a few decades. Iceland became a major Nordic kingdom and a crucial trading and exploration outpost in the Atlantic.
Venturing West
As well as a Nordic hub, Iceland was the setting-off point for the Viking colonisation of Greenland. Born in Norway but exiled with his family at the age of 10, Erik Thorvaldsson (also known as Erik the Red) would go on to establish the first Viking settlement in Greenland following his own exile from Iceland in 982. By this point, the Icelanders were well aware of the presence of Greenland. It had already (accidentally) been discovered by Gunnbjörn Ulfsson and had been occasionally visited by Icelanders who were blown off course in the North Atlantic. Still, upon setting off on his journey, Erik the Red didn’t know exactly what he would find on the as yet unexplored landmass.
According to the Saga of Erik the Red, Thorvaldsson arrived in summer to find the new land ice-free, mild and with fairly similar conditions to Iceland. He was optimistic that this would be a fertile land for farming and permanent colonisation. He returned from exile three years later and regaled the Icelanders with stories about the prosperous future waiting for them in Greenland (purposefully naming it this to make it sound more appealing). Erik returned west the next summer with 25 ships of hopeful colonists, only 14 of which would make landfall.
The new arrivals established two colonies, one on the East and one on the West of the island, though only the Western settlement proved suitable for farming. Greenland never took off as a Viking kingdom quite as Iceland had done. Though the land was serviceable, farming was more difficult than in Scandinavia or Iceland, and settlers relied more heavily on seasonal seal and whale hunts in the far North. Like in the British Isles, Greenland also had native populations who were not always happy to live alongside the settlers. Waves of immigration from an overpopulated Iceland also brought in a series of epidemics, one of which killed a large proportion of the Viking Greelanders, including Erik Thorvaldsson.
‘Discovering’ the Americas
Erik the Red was not the only adventurer in his family; his seafaring spirit was shared by his son, Lief Erikson. As a young adult, Lief decided to visit his father’s native Norway, where he converted to Christianity. Determined to spread the word of God in Greenland, he returned home, only to find himself blown off course in the North Atlantic. When he and his crew made landfall, it was not in Greenland, but on the eastern coast of modern-day Canada.
Contrary to popular belief, Leif Erikson was not the first Viking to accidentally ‘discover’ the Americas. A few years prior, fellow Greenlander Bjarni Herjolfsson had been similarly lost in a storm and found himself in North America. Herjolfsson corrected course and returned home without investigating much on the new continent that he had discovered. Leif Erikson, on the other hand, was spellbound by what he had discovered. He called the new continent ‘Vinland’ after the fertile, grape-bearing vines that cross-crossed the land. The Vikings collected samples of the bountiful wild fruits and wheat that they found and returned to Greenland.
After successfully spreading Christianity in his homeland (as was Leif’s initial mission), he set off west to find Vinland once more. Alongside a crew of 35 men, he sailed down the Canadian coast until he recognised the place where he had previously made landfall. The crew set up an overwinter settlement by a lake, each day sending out a delegation to survey the new territory. Erikson and his men explored thoroughly, discovering native edible plants and animals that they could bring back to Greenland when summer returned. Again, Leif was not in his home country for long. A year later he headed west, this time with his brother Thorvald in tow, to continue his exploration of North America.
Life in Canada
The Vikings didn’t just accidentally discover and then briefly explore Canada, they made a life there. Historians had long believed that the stories of Vikings settlements in North America were true (the Sagas’ descriptions of the Canadian coastline are strikingly accurate in themselves), however there was no archaeological evidence until the mid-20th century.
In 1960, the husband-and-wife archaeologist team of Helge and Anne Stine Ingstad set out to find evidence of Viking settlements in North America. While searching for the possible location of the famed Vinland in New Brunswick, the pair were led to a group of small mounds by a local fisherman, which the inhabitants of the village of L’Anse aux Meadows believed to be an old Native American camp. Excavations of the site began in 1961, and quickly revealed artefacts of everyday Viking life, similar to those found in Iceland and Greenland.
The Viking settlement at L’Anse aux Meadows was carbon-dated to between 990 and 1050 CE. Discoveries included everyday artefacts such as pots, a whetstone, a spindle, stone weights, fragments of an oil lamp and even the remains of a smithy. The village could have supported a population of up to 160 people, and it seems to have been a permanent settlement rather than a temporary encampment. Though no other Viking-age settlements have been found in North America so far, many archaeologists and historians believe that there are more out there to be discovered.
]]>Readers outside of Scotland might not be familiar with Hogmanay. Taking place on the 31st of December, this yearly festival is often unfairly reduced to ‘Scottish New Year’s Eve.’ It’s much more than that though. Hogmanay is famous for its fireworks, bonfires, parades and general exuberance, making it one of the most treasured festivals in the Scottish calendar. And with roots stretching back to the Viking celebration of Yule, Scotland is never better connected to its Nordic heritage than at the turn of the New Year.
Edinburgh - Hogmanay Ship Burning
Yuletide Imported
It’s believed that the first seeds of Hogmanay were planted when Viking settlers brought Yule to British shores in the 8th and 9th centuries. Though these newcomers may have been far from their Nordic homeland, it was still important to them that they celebrated a week of revelry at the darkest time of the year. Over the decades as the British and Viking populations merged, Yule celebrations likely mixed with the local festival of Samhain which marked the arrival of winter. The two celebrations shared several similarities, including the centrality of light and fire as a theme, taking place during the cold, dark months and, of course, calls for overall merriment.
Just like in Scandinavia, Scottish mid-winter can be dark, bleak and depressing. Vikings in Scotland therefore used Yule to inject some levity into the otherwise difficult period around the winter solstice. They marked the occasion with bonfires, feasts and parties to light a spark during the dark winter nights. Norsemen and women decorated their homes with evergreen wreaths and branches, symbolic of life overcoming darkness, and burned a Yule log on the fire throughout the 12-day holiday.
The similarities between Yule and Hogmanay are easy to see, as many aspects of the ancient festival are brought back to life in Scotland at the turn of the New Year. Light is thrust into the dark night as towns across the country host Hogmanay bonfires or firework displays. More dramatic still are the torchlit processions through town-centres across the country. One of the most spectacular fire ceremonies takes place in Stonehaven in Aberdeenshire, where each year men and women process through the town swinging flaming wire cages above their heads on two or three-foot chains. Though written records of the Stonehaven Fireballs only date back as far as 1908, local historians believe the custom to be much older. The flames are said to symbolise purification and the banishing of evil spirits - a concept that predates Christianity in Scotland and was also a central aspect of Viking Yuletide.
Up Helly Aa procession, Lerwick
The Legacy of Invasions
Scotland’s Viking history influenced modern Hogmanay in more ways than just handing Yuletide customs. The local struggle against Viking invaders has also left its mark in the form of one of the most crucial Hogmanay rituals: first footing. As the festival takes place on New Year’s Eve night, the first foot that steps into the house on the first of January is responsible for bringing either good or bad fortunes into the home. To ensure the best luck possible, the first guest should be a dark-haired male. It’s believed that this custom is a throwback to the Viking days, not because it’s related to Yule, but because a blonde-haired stranger on a Scottish doorstep was unlikely to be a sign of a happy new year!
The Persistence of Hogmanay
A thousand years ago, the Yuletide celebration that would become Hogmanay was celebrated from the Outer Hebrides to the North of England. As the Vikings were banished from the British Isles and Norse heritage shrank in relevance, so too did this once great celebration. But though Hogmanay was eventually forgotten south of the border, it never lost its full significance in Scotland.
But how is it that a Viking-age festival has managed to survive the passage of the centuries? The continued importance of Hogmanay seems even more unlikely when you consider that Christmas and New Year take place around its same time of year, and the most significant, Christian festival may well have pushed out their Scottish cousin. Well, the persistence of Hogmanay in the Scottish zeitgeist has more to do with Christianity than it does paganism. During the Protestant Reformation, Christmas was banned in Scotland for being ‘too Papist.’ This left the spotlight open for Hogmanay, which was the preeminent winter celebration in the country until the 19th century.
Still, the full force of the Nordic influence is still felt most strongly in the areas of Scotland that stayed under Nordic rule for the longest. Visitors to the Shetland Islands at the turn of the year may be surprised to hear that Hogmanay is still referred to by many as ‘Yules.’ But that’s not too shocking really. After all, the Shetlands and Orkneys were provinces of Norway until as late as the 15th century.
Remembering the Viking Past
Modern Hogmanay celebrations often give a nod towards the Vikings for their part in developing one of the most beloved days on the calendar. One of the most famous images of Hogmanay is the fire procession through Edinburgh. Each year a column of men dressed as Viking warriors stride through the Old Town, holding aloft flaming torches. More than 20 thousand people bought tickets to see the parade in 2023, with many observing from apartments, hotel rooms and pub terraces. The procession always ends in spectacular fashion at Edinburgh Harbour with the burning of an imitation Viking longship.
This isn’t the only fire procession and ship burning on Hogmanay night. Edinburgh’s bombastic annual tradition is inspired by a long-held New Year’s festival in the Shetland Islands known as ‘Up Helly Aa.’ Just like Hogmanay, this late December ritual also evolved from Viking-age Yule traditions and continues to signify for many the deep connection between modern Scotland and its Nordic heritage.
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Who were the Berserkers?
Berserkers were an elite legion of Viking warriors, known for their uniquely violent, animalistic fighting style. Before battle, Berserkers would enter a rage-filled state known as ‘berserkergangr’ under which they would be overcome with frenzied aggression. Almost as if they had entered a trace, this overwhelming anger would take over the Berserker’s mind and body, making him a formidable human weapon.
Due to their violent fighting style, Berserkers would lead Viking armies into battle at the forefront of a phalanx formation. This would position them at the front of a rectangular mass of troops, perfectly placed to encounter the full onslaught of the opposing side. Rushing into battle ready to destroy anything in their path, Berserkers were positioned to do maximum damage to the enemy front lines, both physically and psychologically.
As ever when examining a common character or trope in Viking literature, it’s at this point that we must ask whether Berserkers were real or just a figure of Norse mythology. The answer to this question is most likely ‘yes.’ There is a general consensus among Viking historians that there was an elite military unit of rage-filled warriors, known for their extreme violence and aggression in battle. This conclusion comes from the fact that they don’t only appear in Norse literature, but are also depicted on numerous contemporary carvings, tapestries and other visual mediums and eyewitness accounts from Scandinavians and non-Scandinavians alike. Though there are some discrepancies around how they’re presented (mostly relating to their clothing), they are fairly consistent in their general message, even across centuries and regions.
Warriors, Lords and Gods
Given their deadly prowess in combat, Berserkers were considered the most valuable weapon that a Viking king or nobleman could possess in his army or personal guard. Several Viking-era tapestries and carvings show Vikings acting as bodyguards for powerful rulers. The Fornalder Saga describes one chieftain as having as many as 12 Berserkers in his personal security panel.
However, a nobleman seeking the protection of a Berserker unit would have to pay great heed to their unruliness both in and outside of battle. According to the Saga of Saint Olaf, the employment of Berserkers ultimately led to the downfall of King Olav Haraldsson of Norway. At the Battle of Stiklestad in 1030, the Berksers at the front of this army, uncontrollable in their trance-like rage, were unable to keep ranks and attacked early. This slip of control not only lost King Olav the war, but he also lost his life there on the battlefield.
Though Berserkers acted as mercenaries, available for hire by anyone with the money and status, their power ultimately came not from their lord but from the Gods. All warriors looked to Odin for their strength and aggression in battle, but Berserkers were said to be especially favoured by the God of war. It was thought that the power that Berserkers could muster within their rage state was directly given by Odin, and warriors would often pray or leave offerings to the God before going into battle to ask for his assistance in reaching their maximum potential for destruction.
Going Berserk
So how exactly did Berserkers behave while in their battle trance, and how did these elite warriors achieve this state? Known as berserkergangr, this state is described in numerous contemporary accounts as animalistic and wild. Warriors were unable to control themselves and were completely taken over by the need to destroy. A Christian monk who witnessed the siege of Paris in 885 described the opposing army’s Berserker unit as ‘all bare-arms and bare-backed, with mocking laughter, they band their shields on open hands; their throats strained as they shout out odious cries.’
Several sources tell of Berserkers being so taken over by the throws of war that they were unable to wait for the fighting to begin. Enraged warriors stationed at the army’s apex were said to bite their shields, chew rocks or even right each other to satisfy their need for violence. One of the most famous depictions of Berserkers comes from a chess set discovered on the Isle of Lewis, in which one of the pieces shows a fierce warrior with his shield between his teeth.
One aspect of the berserkergangr that still eludes historians is the question of how Berserkers achieved this violent state. Contemporary sources tell of prayer and rituals being used to achieve the battle trance, but many modern researchers posit that psychedelic substances may have also contributed to these warriors’ famous rage. The use of mind-altering substances is thought to have taken place in other Viking rituals, and was commonplace among Germanic tribes of the day.
The most common fungal suspect for the Berserker rage is the Amanita Muscaria, a red-capped toadstool native to Scandinavia. Ingestion of this mushroom causes the eater to enter an ecstatic or furious trance, accompanied by boundless energy and strange movements. Another theory is that a form of nightshade called Hyoscyamus Niger may have been used. This herb spread to Scandinavia from the Mediterranean and has been discovered in Viking-era graves, often those associated with sorceresses. That being said, there is no hard evidence that the Berserkers used substances to enter their rage state. Some historians dispute this theory since psychedelic aids are never mentioned in any sources and substances, and they would likely have caused effects adverse to battle, such as nausea and confusion.
Bear-Skins or Bare-Skins?
Unlike other aspects of Nordic history, there is a fairly strong consensus among historians that Berserkers probably existed in some form. A more heated scholarly debate surrounds the origin of their name, what they wore and whether the two facts are interconnected. There are two theories for the etymology of the word ‘Berserker’: Bear-skins or Bare-skins. Unhelpfully, the same play-on-words that exists in English rendering these two terms nearly identical also exists in Old Norse, making it difficult to discern the Berserker wardrobe.
Proponents of the ‘Bear-Skins’ theory argue that Berserkers wore animal skins into battle, perhaps as a reference to their animalistic war-trace or to show their devotion to Odin, who was associated with bears. Another fact that seems to support this claim is evidence of another, much more elusive, form of elite warrior called úlfheðnar, meaning Wolf Skins. Historians know next to nothing about these fighters since they’re mentioned so sparsely in Nordic literature, and many believe they are just another name for Berserkers. Still, another unit being named after the animal hides that they wore gives credence to the idea that Berserkers fought in bear furs.
On the other hand, there is another camp of historians who argue that Berserkers fought naked, or near-naked, in battle. This would have been used as an intimidation tactic for the opposing army, signalling the strength, confidence and erraticness of these formidable foes.
Unfortunately, looking at the literature or artistic depictions of Berserkers paints a cloudy picture of these warriors’ battle wardrobes. There are depictions of them clothed in bear skins, others of them naked and others of them in normal armour. One explanation could be that Berserkers favoured different clothing in different centuries. These warriors pre-dated the Viking-era, with the earliest reference being on one of the famous Golden Horns found near Møgeltønder, which dates to c. 400 AD. These show semi-naked men brandishing weapons and, interestingly, wearing horned helmets, which are generally considered to be a myth. The Isle of Lewis Chess Set, which shows a warrior in fairly standard armour for the day biting his shield, dates from the 12th century, around 700 years after the creation of the Golden Horns.
]]>The practice of seidr, a type of ritual magic performed to convey messages from the spiritual to the mortal realm, was used in Viking society for everything from telling the future to diagnosing illness. Rituals were performed by visionary seeresses, who held such a high position in society that they were honoured in Viking sagas and buried with treasures fit for a Norse queen. In this article, we’ll peek into the fascinating world of Seidr: who performed the rituals, how they entered the spirit world, and how this form of Viking magic is making a comeback today.
The Seeress
Seidr ceremonies were carried out by seeresses called Völva. These professional mystics travelled from town to town, farmstead to farmstead, performing commissioned seidr rituals and acts of magic in return for money and board. Seeresses were renowned in society for their rare abilities in magic and healing, and were called upon by everyone from Viking kings to ordinary families to act as a go-between between the mortal and spirit realms.
Given their special abilities and power over the fates, skilled Völva were extremely respected members of a Viking community. In the Saga of Erik the Red, the seeress is described in great detail, her wealth apparent from the opulent ermine-fur hood, jewel-encrusted skirt and bronze staff. Despite their wealth and high status, Völva stood apart from ordinary society. The ability to read and manipulate the future which gave them great standing in the community also elicited mistrust and fear from ordinary people. They were also believed to hold almost supernatural powers of seduction due to their close relationship with the goddess Freyja.
Though the vast majority of professional Völva were women, there were some men who practised Seidr. The most notable among them was Odin himself, who was said to have learned the practice from Freyja, the most powerful seeress of them all. Despite this, Seidr was a highly gendered activity, and a man found leading a Seidr ritual could be ostracised for being argr, or ‘unmanly.’ In the Lokasenna from the Poetic Edda, even Odin is taunted by Loki for taking part in such a feminine practice.
The Ritual
Seidr rituals were usually commissioned during times of crisis, such as outbreaks of disease, adverse weather conditions, or even personal disasters such as the breakdown of a family. The goal of the ritual was to receive answers from the spirit world or the Norns, the Viking goddesses of fate. Though it’s usually associated with divination and prophecy, there were many possible goals to a Seidr ritual. Seeresses could be called on to request assistance for a family or community, ask advice or express gratitude. Seidr may also be used as a healing ritual by asking for the cause of an illness or for help in driving away malevolent spirits.
The Völva would begin her ritual by gathering the family around her in a circle and sitting on a special throne, a staff or wand in her hand. In order to contact the realms of Gods and spirits, she had to enter a trance-like state through singing, drumming, chanting and prayer. More renowned seeresses would be assisted by a group of young women, also trained in the art of prophecy, who would continue to chant and sing through her communication with the fates to strengthen her connection to the immortal realm. The Saga of Erik the Red describes the perils of travelling between through states of being and tells of the seeress using talismans and runes to protect her during the ritual.
Wands, Staffs and Talismans
On many subjects from tattoos to human sacrifice, historians studying the Vikings struggle with a mismatch between what's depicted in contemporary literature and the archaeological evidence available. Thankfully, this is not the case when it comes to decoding seidr. The graves of seeresses have been an absolute treasure trove of ornate wands, staffs and trinkets, supporting the Sagas’ descriptions of such objects being central to the work of a Viking Völva.
The most common object associated with seidr discovered in Viking-era graves are elaborately engraved staffs, often made of iron and sometimes decorated with precious stones, bone or bronze. One of the most elaborate examples discovered was found on the Swedish island of Öland, where archaeologists unearthed a 82 cm long staff with bronze ornamentation and topped with a small statue of a house cast in metal. Other graves of seeresses have included smaller wands, usually made of metal or bone, and leather bags of ritual talismans and runes. In some cases, seeresses have been found with intoxicating, or even psychedelic, plants, which are thought to have aided them in entering the trace state.
These archaeological findings don’t only lend credence to the depictions of rituals in Viking literature but also show the high status of seeresses within Nordic society. The Öland grave included several animal sacrifices, a bear skin cloak and a carved stone jug which archaeologists believe came from Central Asia. It’s thought by some that the famous Oseberg ship, long believed to have been the final resting place of a queen due to the valuable grave goods and potential human sacrifice found within, may have been the final resting place for a particularly renowned Völva. This theory comes from the numerous objects found onboard that are associated with seidr such as a wooden staff and bag of hemp seeds.
The Death and Rebirth of Seidr
Even at the dawn of the Viking-age, Seidr was an ancient practice. Though it was later integrated into the Viking belief system, Seidr had its origins in Bronze-Age Scandinavian Shamanism, which itself was likely influenced by even older Sami practices. Despite its long-held significance in local culture, Seidr gradually declined after the arrival of Christianity in Scandinavia.
Though driven to near extinction by the 12th century, the practice of Seidr is currently experiencing somewhat of a Renaissance. With the growth of Asatru, the modern-day practice of the Viking-age religion, there is an increased interest in studying and reconstructing Seidr practices so that they can be used again today.
The Völva, is today what we would call a Witch. Back then she could see the will of the Gods, and see the spirits, and communicate with them, as their voice, as in the The Hamaval, which was Channeled from Odinn through the Völva.
Seidr is Bewitchment, it is what Odinn, like many times in the story about Vidars mother, and the saga of the Ship and the hanging tree, is why it was so feared, as it was like Hypnosis. It could make you see and hear things that weren’t true, and make you do things against your will, which is what Odinn praticed in his plotting. Odinn's good eye was that of 'sight', or 'foresight'.
In the world of Seidr, the word 'Spá' is also commonly used, as this is related to the English word, 'spy', as to see. Spákraft was to see the spirits and see the future, to spy into the spirit realm. It also where we get the phrase 'I spy, with my little eye, from Scotland, in I Spae, Wit My little eye, because of the Norse Cunning women, who became the Scottish Witches.
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Unlike later Medieval knights, Vikings did not wear full suits of armour into battle, nor did they don the stereotypical horned helmets that you might see in a cartoon or at a party shop. Viking armour varied greatly depending on the warrior’s wealth and status, ranging from expensive chainmail to simply padded tunics and the iconic round shield for protection.
Shields
The most important part of a Viking warrior’s protection in battle was not what he wore, but what he carried. The shield was a quintessential safeguard to block attacks from enemy weapons. They were crafted from planks of wood, with an iron boss at the centre to protect the hand as it grasped the wooden handle on the back. Of the many examples of Viking shields that have been discovered by archaeologists, most are between 80 to 90 centimetres in diameter, though some have measured almost a metre or as little as 70 cm. This variety of sizes and weights is likely because shields were made bespoke to the warrior. After all, as the most important part of a Norseman’s defence, he’d want it to be attuned to his height, strength and fighting style.
One of our best sources for understanding the design and construction of Viking shields comes from 10th-century Norway, when the Gulaþing and Frostaþing laws specified exactly how a shield should be made. The law stipulated that shields should be made of wood, with three iron bands and a handle fastened to the back with iron nails. It should be made of no less than town layers of board, and the front should be painted red and white. Despite what the law said, archaeological evidence from Norway suggests that these specifications weren’t taken very seriously. In the largest collection of shields ever discovered, a treasure trove of 32 pieces from the 10th century found on a ship in Gokstad, most of the shields were just one layer thick, had no iron bands, and were painted yellow and black.
One of the biggest advantages of shields was the ability to form a ‘shield wall’, which would protect not only the individual holding the shield, but the party at large. This is a tried and tested defence method in Medieval European warfare, which was used from Rome to the Rus States. The particular shield wall strategy that the Vikings were partial to was to use the wall as a defence from throwing spears and arrows, or as a collective battering ram while charging forward.
Padded Armour
Let's look behind the shield now at what a Viking warrior would have worn during a battle. Well, this would very much depend on the individual fighter’s status. Metal armour was expensive and took up a lot of space on a warship, so most lower-class warriors or seasonal raiders would have relied on padded armour made of layers of fabric instead. Wearing three layers of wood clothing, perhaps additionally padded with horse or goat hair, would have offered a reasonable level of defence against edged weapons without compromising the wearer’s speed or flexibility on the battlefield. Leather too would have been an inexpensive and accessible material for making armour, and could be worn in combination with a padded tunic for extra protection.
Even though we don’t have any archaeological evidence of padded armour (those natural fibres would never be able to survive almost 1000 years out in the elements), we know from contemporary literature and artwork that this was probably the protection of choice for the majority of Norse warriors. In the Saga of the Icelanders, it seems like most warriors go into battle with just layered tunics and caps. This is backed up by tapestries, illustrations and wood carvings depicting Norsemen in battle from all over Europe, including the famous Bayeux Tapestry, which shows Vikings striding only the battlefield in colourful, knee-length garments which look almost like normal clothing.
Chainmail
Even if the average Viking warrior would have gone into battle wearing just a padded tunic or leather vest for protection, higher-status Vikings would have had more expensive options at their disposal. Seeing a warrior wearing chainmail on the battlefield would have really marked him out as part of the Norse elite. Mail armour was made of thousands of individual interlocking rings, and could only be produced by a highly skilled blacksmith. The expense of this highly prized armour was no doubt worth it since chainmail provided a formidable defence against edged weapons while hardly compromising manoeuvrability. The fact that archaeologists have discovered very few complete chainmail shirts from the Viking era speaks to the armour’s rarity. The scarce examples we have come from grave sites, marking the deceased as professional fighters of high status and skill.
If a Viking warrior still wanted to enjoy the protection that metal armour offered but couldn’t bear the expense of chainmail, lamellar could have been a cheaper alternative. This type of armour was made from small, rectangular plates made of iron, steel or leather, and would have offered the same level of protection as chainmail though not the flexibility. Archaeological evidence seems to show that this type of armour grew in popularity as the Viking age wore on, and was particularly favoured by Vikings living in modern-day Russia, Ukraine and the Baltics.
Helmets
So that’s how Viking warriors would have protected their bodies, but what about their heads? Illustrations and literature from the time all tell us that the majority of Norse fighters would have gone into battle wearing a metal helmet. These would have been a simple iron cap with a brow ridge to protect the eyes and nose. Some more expensive helmets may also have had a chainmail veil to protect the neck and face. Although most historians believe that the helmet would have been an important part of the average warrior’s battle equipment, we’ve found very few examples of Viking helmets. It seems that they weren’t sacrificed like spears and swords, and they don’t show up very often as grave goods. It’s possible that a helmet would have been passed from father to son rather than being buried when the older warrior passed. It could also be that helmets weren’t as important to Nordic warriors as modern historians think.
And now to address the elephant in the room: what about horned helmets? No, Viking warriors did not go into battle with horns on their helmets. These would have been extremely impractical on the battlefield and taken up a lot of space on the longship. Not to mention the fact that a horned helmet could have been used as a weapon against its owner. This isn’t to say that horned helmets didn’t exist at all in Viking society. A tapestry from the Oseberg ship shows warriors wearing helmets with golden horns, just as the modern stereotype would suggest. Perhaps the illustration was showing a group of Berserkers, a kind of wild warrior who whipped themselves up into a frenzy to fight, or maybe they were worn for ritualistic purposes. Whatever the case, historians aren’t sure where horned helmets fit into the tapestry of Viking armour, though they almost certainly were not worn in battle.
]]>Though we don’t have any Viking-age medical textbooks or guides to medicinal plants, we’re able to piece together a pretty good picture of what health and healing looked like in the Viking era. This is done with archaeological findings at gravesites, evidence of non-native medicinal plants being brought to Scandinavia, and accounts from the sagas about battlefield hospitals. All of this allows us a glimpse of the rich tapestry of herbalism, rituals and creative cures that made up Viking medicine.
The average life expectancy in Viking-era Scandinavia was around 35 years old. While that might sound extremely low by modern standards, by the standards of Medieval Europe that was actually pretty good. The age was brought down significantly by infant and early childhood mortality. Once a Viking reached their teens, they could expect to live to around 50, or even older if they were part of the nobility. We even have examples of some Vikings who lived into their 80s, such as Harald Fairhaid who ruled Norway for almost 60 years.
In general, it’s thought that the Vikings were in pretty good health. Their varied and nutritious diet seems to have kept their bodies and teeth in good working order. They were also very conscious of cleanliness, taking great pride in personal hygiene. Anglo-Saxon chroniclers wrote in astonishment that the Vikings washed daily and set aside each Saturday for bathing and washing their clothes. This dedication to personal cleanliness was seen as bizarre in Medieval Europe but it probably went a long way to keeping the Vikings fit and healthy.
So what would you have done if you’d fallen ill in a Viking village? In most cases, you would have sought out the local læknir: a woman with a vast array of medical practices in her repertoire. As the town’s healer, she would have played a vital role in the community, treating the sick and injured, helping women to give birth and administering preventative medicine. Medicinal concoctions were made using herbs that either grew wild or would have been grown in the healer’s garden. These would have included camomile to treat swelling and fevers, nettles for joint pain, waybroad for ulcers and watercress for a litany of ills from flu to baldness. Archaeological evidence found from a gravesite in Sweden also tells us that the Vikings cultivated hemp to make CBD oils and creams to act as painkillers.
The healer would also have guided women through childbirth, alongside the mother’s female friends and relatives. Most of our knowledge of childbirth in the Viking-era is speculative, cobbled together from the little literature available and supplemented with what we know from contemporary societies that left behind more written evidence. We know that childbirth would have been incredibly dangerous to both the mother and child in Medieval Scandinavia. During the pregnancy, the family would have left several offerings to the Goddess Freyja for a successful delivery. The birth would have taken place at home and mugwort may well have been used to treat morning sickness, ‘cleanse the womb’ and act as an anaesthetic during labour.
As talented as the healer may have been, and as vast their understanding of medicinal plants and herbs, without our modern understanding of germs and the human body some illnesses were complete mysteries to the Vikings. Medieval Scandinavians believed that disease and health were greatly impacted by unseen spirits, particularly the spirits of a person’s ancestors. An attack by malevolent spirits would manifest as illness in the human body, causing diseases which could often only be healed by the work of kind spirits. To aid in this recovery, some healers could combine their medical knowledge with incantations, charms or offerings to the supernatural forces. Medicine was also made specifically to smell and taste repugnant, as the unpleasantness of the treatment was thought to ward off the evil spirits.
With unseen magical forces able to do such harm to a Norseman or woman’s health, it’s no wonder that keeping the spirits happy was a very important part of Viking preventive medicine. Leaving sacrifices or offerings of food and beer and living an honourable life were seen as crucial steps to stay on their ancestors’ good side. Failing that, the Goddess Eir, revered as ‘the best of all physicians’, could also step in on behalf of someone suffering from a spirit-induced affliction, so long as she received satisfactory offerings too.
Of course, one of the biggest threats to his health that a Viking man might face would be getting injured in battle. From various stories in the sagas, there’s evidence that Viking warriors may have taken healers with them to operate field hospitals to treat injured fighters. As the clash of swords resounded and the cries of battle echoed, healers stood by to sew up wounds, set bones and even carry out rudimentary surgery. And just like the local healer back home, it seems like it was mainly women who saved stricken warriors on the battlefield.
Though battlefield triage only got its name during the Napoleonic wars, the Vikings had a similar system for deciphering which injured soldiers could be saved and which could not. In Snorri Sturluson’s Heimskringla, Thormod is given a leek and herb soup when he staggers into the medical tent, and told by the nurse that if she can smell the food after he’s eaten it then it means the wound has penetrated his stomach and there’s nothing she can do to save him. Another battle-side scene in an Icelandic saga tells of a doctor examining the colour of the blood from a warrior’s wound to see if it’s merely a surface injury or if there’s untreatable internal damage.
So with the wound identified, what could a Viking battlefield doctor do? Like the local healer, they would have had a litany of herbal treatments for pain, swelling and infection at their disposal. They could also attempt to remove spearheads or other shrapnel lodged in the body, though this was risky business. In Thormod’s story, the nurse attempts to remove a piece of hook-shaped shrapnel from his body with a pair of tongs. Unfortunately for him, the hook was curled around his heart, so pulling it out was just about the worst thing the doctor could have done. Still, Thormod rewards her with a gold ring: an acknowledgement that she treated him the best that she could.
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If you look at any modern depiction of a Viking, whether that’s in a movie, TV show or even an AI-generated image, you’re more than likely to find yourself looking at a tall, muscular, heavily tattooed warrior. Tattoos have become so central to our image of the Vikings that Norse tattoos are a thriving subgenre of modern body art, adorning the skin of men and women in Scandinavia and beyond.
Here’s the issue though: we don’t actually have any evidence that the Vikings tattooed themselves at all. There’s no mention of tattoos in any saga, and the Vikings didn’t leave behind any written sources about topics as mundane as body art. Obviously, the thousand-year-old bones that we find in Viking graves today can’t tell us whether their former owner had tattooed skin either. So what evidence do we have that Vikings wore tattoos, and how accurate are modern Norse tattoos to the kinds that Medieval Scandinavians may have sported during the Viking age?
Did the Vikings really have tattoos?
Historians have long been debating whether Vikings did or did not tattoo themselves, and the verdict... unsure. The tattooed skin, or lack thereof, has not survived almost 1000 years since the Viking age, so there’s no archaeological evidence to either prove or disprove the theory. There’s also the added challenge that the Vikings wrote very little down, especially when it came to day-to-day topics such as fashion or artwork. Where other civilisations may have left behind a classification guide for tattooed symbols or a fieldwork manual for making natural inks, this kind of knowledge was handed down verbally from generation to generation of Norseman.
That being said, we do have some anecdotal evidence of Viking tattoos from travellers visiting Norse communities. The best known of these comes from Arab emissary Ahmad Ibn Fadlan, whose travel diaries about his encounters with Eastern Vikings in modern-day Russia have provided historians with key insights into several aspects of Viking culture, from funerals to haircuts. According to Ibn Fadlan, every Viking that he met was tattooed from their fingers to the backs of their necks. Their skin was decorated with dark blue images, particularly of trees, and abstract symbols. He also noted that both men and women alike wore eye makeup.
Around the same time as Ibn Fadlan’s account, a Sephardic Jewish merchant (and probably also spy) from Al-Andalus named Ibn Yaqub was writing about his experiences in the Danish city of Hedeby. He also noted the widespread presence of tattoos and makeup for both men and women to ‘enhance the beauty of their eyes.’
Tattooing isn’t mentioned in any Viking source, so the travel accounts by Ibn Fadlan and Ibn Yaqub are the best textual evidence that we have about Viking tattoos. While these are generally taken as very reliable evidence for the existence of tattooing in Viking society, some historians have questioned whether they refer to tattoos as we’d understand them today or temporary body art. Both travellers were writing in Arabic, and there is some debate as to whether the word that is usually translated as ‘tattoos’ might simply mean ‘body marking.’ In this case, the two writers could actually be describing body and face paint, which we know was widely used in Viking society, or a kind of temporary body art similar to henna.
How might Vikings have tattooed themselves?
Even if we don’t have any hard evidence that Vikings tattooed themselves, it’s not far from the realm of possibility. Tattooing was practised in Northern Europe long before the Viking age and is known to have existed in Germanic and Slavic societies that the Vikings encountered. Using evidence from other contemporary societies we can piece together the tools and techniques that the Vikings might have used for tattooing.
To start, Viking tattoo inks would have been made from natural dyes made from materials in the world around them. Substances such as ash, charcoal, kohl and plant fibres could have been mixed to make dark pigments in a variety of shades. Though Ibn Fadlan describes seeing Vikings with green tattoos, it’s more likely that they would have been dark blue. Vikings were known to make an inky-blue dye from wood ash that was cheap and simple to make. If they did tattoo themselves, it’s pretty likely that this kind of dye could have been easily adapted into tattoo ink.
When it comes to tattoo equipment, the Vikings would have likely used techniques such as hand-tapping or hand-poking. These methods, which are used in several indigenous cultures around the world, involve the skin being punctured by a needle or sharp object before pigment is rubbed into the wound. Though that sounds painful, we know that Vikings were able to make painkiller and anaesthetic salves from medicinal plants, so it would have been possible to numb the pain both during and after the tattoo session.
Face and Body Painting
While Viking tattoos remain a mystery, historians generally agree that the Vikings most likely used body and face paint in several aspects of day-to-day life. Archaeologists have unearthed animal hair brushes and sponges thought to have been used to apply body art and think they may have even discovered some 1000-year-old Viking face paint in the grave of a 10th-century Danish seeress.
As well as wearing makeup for aesthetic reasons, it’s thought that face paint was a central part of many Viking rituals, from wedding ceremonies to sacrifices. In surviving examples of Viking art we can see that Norsemen and women often depicted their gods as being covered in runes and symbols while in their human form. Odin, for example, is often drawn with blue facial markings over his eye representing his magnificent wisdom, whereas Thor is depicted with red markings on his body to represent his immense strength. Drawing from the archaeological evidence available and the practices of nearby cultures, some historians have speculated that priests and priestesses may have replicated these markings on their own bodies with paint to harness the power of the gods during rituals.
Viking war paint, though a common trope in TV and cinema, is a more hotly debated topic among historians. Like with tattoos, there's archaeological evidence to either prove or disprove the idea that the Vikings painted themselves before battle. Given the importance of intimidation in Viking battle culture, it seems logical that at least some Vikings may have smeared paint, kohl, or even blood, on their faces to frighten their enemies. It’s also possible that the Vikings might have picked up the habit from the Picts who were known to paint themselves blue before battle.
Blood sacrifice was a central part of many Viking rituals, from established yearly celebrations to pre-battle rallying. While we know that sheep, cows, pigs and goats would often find themselves on the sacrificial altar, this begs the question, did Vikings ever sacrifice humans?
Human sacrifice was common in pre-Christian Europe. We know that it happened in Ancient Greece, Rome and Celtic communities, and there is evidence that Vikings practised human sacrifice too. The idea has become so ubiquitous that we can find human sacrifice as a common trope in movies and TV shows set in Medieval Scandinavia, such as “The 13th Warrior” and “Vikings”.
What isn’t clear though is how often humans were sacrificed in Viking culture, and when and why they would have engaged in this practice. We also need to call our historical sources into question to ask which are facts and which are pure fabrication.
Routine Rituals
So, when and why were blood sacrifices used in Viking culture? Sacrifices, known as Blót in Old Norse, were an integral part of many religious and cultural rituals in which Vikings would leave an offering for the gods in exchange for luck, favour, or prosperity. Animal sacrifices were a routine part of many yearly celebrations, including Yule and Midsummer, when livestock animals such as cows or pigs would be slaughtered on an altar and eaten as part of a community feast.
Outside of seasonal festivities, a priest could be called upon to carry out a blót when a community, family or individual Viking was facing some kind of difficulty. In these situations, the sacrifice would be in exchange for better weather, a good harvest, success in battle or even help in getting pregnant.
There is no evidence that human sacrifice was used as part of any yearly celebration, nor would most priests have agreed to sacrifice a human at the behest of a single, struggling family. There is, however, some evidence that captured warriors from a vanquished army may have been ritualistically killed to thank Odin for success in battle. This practice is described in several sagas and has been backed up by archaeological findings near Viking battle sites. Of all the tales of human sacrifice in Viking culture, the practice of ritualistically killing captured foes is the most widely accepted by historians.
Travellers’ Accounts
While battlefield sacrifices are backed up by credible written and archaeological sources, most descriptions of human sacrifice by Vikings come from less-than-trustworthy foreign accounts. Since the Vikings left us very few written texts, a lot of the more detailed sources explaining Viking life actually come from travellers and traders from abroad. This throws up some big issues when it comes to texts about religion and rituals. Many of these accounts were written by Christian clerics from elsewhere in Europe who had a vested interest in making Norse pagans look brutish, violent and immoral. In many cases, it’s not even clear if the writer had ever been to Scandinavia or if their accounts of ‘witnessing’ religious rites, or even human sacrifices, are pure works of fiction.
One of the best-known descriptions of a Nordic human sacrifice was written by 11th-century German bishop, Thietmar of Merseburg. His famous Chronicle Thietmari includes one particularly raucous scene depicting a Viking ritual at Lejre, the religious centre of Viking-age Denmark. This ritual supposedly takes place every nine years and sees the pagan priest sacrifice ‘99 people and just as many horses, dogs, and hens or hawks, for these should serve them in the kingdom of the dead and atone for their evil deeds.’
Though there is no evidence from any Scandinavian source that this festival really took place, it pops up again an account by another German monk, Adam of Bremen, writing 50 years later. He writes about a sacrificial tradition at Gamla Uppsala, an important temple in Sweden, where Vikings supposedly met every nine years to sacrifice nine males of each living creature, including humans, to the gods Odin, Thor and Frey.
Adam and Theitmar’s descriptions of human sacrifice are generally considered by historians to be purely Christian propaganda with little, if any, factual backing. That isn’t to say, however, that there aren’t any foreign accounts of human sacrifice that hold any weight. Ahmad Ibn Fadlan was an Arab traveller and trader who acted as an emissary from the Abbasid Caliphate to the Rus, a Viking civilisation on the Volga River. In his travel account, he writes a detailed description of a slave girl being ritualistically raped and sacrificed at the funeral of a Viking chief. Historians generally take Fadlan’s account more seriously than the likes of Adam and Theitmar since he didn’t have the religious incentive to paint the Vikings as backwards or immoral.
Archaeological Findings
Another reason that Ahmad Ibn Fadlan might be our most reliable written source when it comes to human sacrifice in the Viking-age is that the idea of ritualistic killings at funerals is backed up by archaeological evidence. Excavations in Lejre in the mid-20th Century unearthed two male skeletons, one of which was dressed in armour and surrounded by weapons and jewellery, whereas the other was tied at the hands and feet and decapitated. A similar grave was found in Dråby, Northern Jutland. In this instance, archaeologists found a woman dressed in fine fabrics and jewels, alongside a decapitated male skeleton with no grave goods of his own. Both graves are interpreted as a noble person buried with a sacrificed slave, meant either to serve them in the afterlife or killed as an offering to the gods on the deceased's behalf. This kind of funeral sacrifice is consistent with Fadlan’s account.
Elsewhere in Denmark, archaeologists have unearthed further evidence of sacrifices away from the battlefield. The most famous was discovered in Slagelse in western Zealand, where a dig at the Viking fortress Trelleborg uncovered four skeletons of children aged 4 to 8 buried in a well along with jewellery, weapons and tools. Since wells were very significant in Viking mythology, Odin having acquired great wisdom after drinking from Mímir’s well, it’s thought that these children may have been sacrificed, perhaps in exchange for some kind of knowledge from the gods.
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As an agricultural and seafaring society, the turning of the seasons was very important to Viking culture. The average Norseman or woman would have based their tasks for the day, week or month on the weather, the crops or the length of the days. It’s no wonder then that the Viking calendar was rich with festivals to celebrate the changing of the seasons and as the gods for whatever the specific time of year called for.
Though it has its differences, the Viking calendar is pretty similar to what we use today. It recognises 12 months, each of which has 30 days, and even makes allowances for leap years. Some of their holidays might also sound familiar, since they’ve morphed over time into festivals that we still celebrate today. Others have been lost to time, or have at least changed beyond recognition as they transformed into modern Christian or secular holidays.
Before we dive into the festivals that the Vikings celebrated throughout the year, let’s first take a look at the Old Norse calendar. The Vikings broke the year into two seasons, summer and winter. Like us, they acknowledged 12 months, though for the Vikings, every month had a clean 30 days. Every fourth year, four days were added to the end of summer, just like how we add an extra day to February to make a leap year.
The Viking year is based around a Lunisolar calendar, meaning that it’s predicated on the movements of both the sun and the moon. At 30 days each, the months are roughly the same as a lunar cycle, while solar events such as equinoxes and solstices were important markers in the year as a whole. Down on Earth, the Vikings’ understanding of the months was based on what was happening at that time of year, whether that be to do with weather, agriculture or festivals.
The Old Norse Summer months and their meanings are as follows:
Harpa |
Meaning unknown |
Mid April - Mid May |
Skerpla |
Lambing month |
Mid May - Mid June |
Sólmánuður |
Sun month |
Mid June - Mid July |
Heyannir |
Hay month |
Mid July - Mid August |
Tvímánuður |
‘Two month’ - possibly meaning two months before Winter |
Mid August - Mid September |
Haustmánuður |
Harvest month |
Mid September - Mid October |
These were then in turn followed by the winter months:
Gormánuður |
Slaughter month |
Mid October - Mid November |
Frermánuður |
Frost month |
Mid November - Mid December |
Mörsugur |
Marrow month |
Mid December - Mid January |
Þorri |
Thor’s month |
Mid January - Mid February |
Góa |
Meaning unknown, though possibly named after a mythological snow spirit |
Mid February - Mid March |
Einmánuður |
‘One Month’ - possibly meaning the last winter month or last month of the year |
Mid March - Mid April |
Historians aren’t entirely sure which month the Vikings would have considered the start of the year. Some have suggested that Vikings may have started their calendars from the first of Harpa, that being the return of the Summer season. Others believe that Viking New Year may have fallen around the same time as our own, with it even being suggested that the Scottish celebration of Hogmanay on the 31st of December stems from Viking New Year celebrations.
Falling on the fourth full moon after the winter solstice, usually towards the end of Einmánuður, Sigrblót came with the promise of summer on the horizon. This was a time for optimism, sewing seeds and laying plans for the warm months ahead.
Sigrblót literally means ‘Victory celebration,’ specifically referring to the summer’s victory over winter. It’s not surprising, then, that this festival was associated with the god Odin, and would see Vikings make blood sacrifices to the sky god in return for good fortune on travels and raids during the summer. But it wasn't only warriors who would take part in the festivities. Such a hopeful time of year called for all Norsemen and women to dance, sing and feast around the bonfire.
Those who practise Viking traditions today obviously don’t sacrifice animals to Odin during Sigrblót. Popular offerings in the 21st century include wine, mead or other goods associated with merriment and fertility. The theme of victory is still apparent in modern practice too, though less literally attributed to raiding. Followers today are more likely to interpret the festival as a celebration of courage, ambition and travel.
Midsummer celebrations in the Nordic countries far pre-date the Vikings. Similar celebrations can be traced back to the Iron Age when local tribes worshipped the sun as their all-powerful god.
Vikings observed Midsummerblót around the Summer Solstice during the month of Sólmánuður. This was a time to celebrate the arrival of the long, bright summer days, as well as the reaping of crops. At this time of year, Vikings paid special attention to the landvaettir, or land spirits, who could make crops and fruit grow, replenish the soil and protect harmony in the natural world. Midsummerblót was an opportunity for Vikings to give thanks to these unseen forces who were considered so crucial to the success of the harvest.
Many Midsummerblót celebrations, including feasting, drinking, dancing, singing and lighting bonfires, live on in modern Scandinavian midsummer festivities. Though the origins of the Maypole are unknown, some have suggested that Vikings may have danced around a pole or tree during Midsummerblót to honour Freya and channel good fertility.
After the merriment of summer and the excitement of travel, Álfablót marked the end of the harvest and the arrival of winter. The festival was associated with both the goddess Freya and the Álfar, or elves, who were often thought to be manifestations of a family’s ancestors.
Though historians know that this was an important date in the Viking calendar, less is known about how it was celebrated. As this was a time to celebrate the family and remember its forebears, festivities were led by the women of the household and took place within the privacy of the home. According to Sigvat the Skald, an 11th-century Icelandic poet, even the most hospitable noblemen would turn strangers from their doors on Álfablót.
Deep in the dark Nordic winter, Yule shone bright as 12 days of merriment and hope. Beginning at the Winter Solstice during the month of Frermánuður, this was a time to celebrate the slow return of summer as the days began to get longer again. Just like other festivals throughout this year, this slither of optimism called for merriment and feasting by the entire community. Mead was particularly key to Yule celebrations since it was known to be Odin’s favourite drink, and midwinter was seen as a good time to be on Odin’s good side since he had the power to bring summer back. It also didn’t hurt to sacrifice an animal or two to the sky god in the hopes that he would bring about an early spring.
While the practice of making a blood sacrifice hasn’t survived into modern Christmas traditions, a number of festivities associated with the Old Norse Yule have survived to this day. As Scandinavia Christianised and Viking festivals dwindled into obscurity, people carried over certain aspects of traditional faith into Christian holidays. As the name would suggest, burning a yule log began as a Viking custom. Norsemen and women were also known to hang wreaths or decorate evergreen trees to symbolise the cycle of the seasons. Even mistletoe got its association with love, peace and resurrection from the Viking legend of the death of Baldur.
]]>The Vikings were an influential presence in England for hundreds of years, but never did they hold more power than between 1013 and 1042, when the Danish Jelling Dynasty sat on the English throne. During this period of power struggles, instability and societal change, the four Viking kings of England left an indelible mark on the country’s history. From the audacious conquest of Sweyn Forkbeard, to the spiteful rule of Harthacnut, the story of England’s Danish kings is a tale of ambition, reform, opportunism and vengeance, without which Britain would not be the same today.
Sweyn Forkbeard was born into a Denmark where change and expansion were ubiquitous. His father, Harold Bluetooth, was the first Viking ruler to embrace Christianity as his kingdom’s official religion, and also that kingdom to unseen heights. By the time Sweyn reached adulthood, his father’s lands stretched from German to Norway, with satellite states as far-afield as modern-day France and Lithuania.
But Sweyn was not the loyal son and heir that a Nordic king would hope for. Sweyn was a dedicated follower of the Norse faith and disagreed with his father’s efforts to spread Christianity in Denmark. In the mid-980s, Sweyn led the pagan mercenary Jomsvikings in an uprising against his father, ultimately seizing the throne for himself. Unfortunately, he did not get to enjoy his time as King of Denmark, being sent into exile by Bluetooth’s German allies. The next 14 years Sweyn spent primarily in Scotland, during which time Denmark was occupied by Sweden. Forkbeard returned to reclaim his land, before launching several naval campaigns to sure-up his territories in Norway.
In 1002, Sweyn turned his attention across the North Sea, where King Æthelred the Unready had recently ordered the massacre of thousands of Danes on English soil. In retaliation, the Danish king authorised 12 years of relentless raids on the English coast before invading the country altogether in 1013. Beginning in Sandwich, his army stormed through the south of England, arriving to besiege London and force King Æthelred to flee. Sweyn Forkbeard proclaimed himself King of England on Christmas Day 1013.
Despite being the first Viking king of England, Sweyn Forkbeard was also the shortest reigning, dying from apoplexy just five weeks after assuming the throne. Upon his death he split his kingdoms between his two sons, leaving the English crown to Cnut…
The English had never accepted Sweyn Forkbeard as their king and were not thrilled by the prospect of his son inheriting the throne. They invited Aethelred back to retake his crown, who arrived from Normandy with a formidable army ready to defeat Cnut in battle. Instead of fighting over the English throne, Cnut decided to return to Denmark.
Cnut’s homegoing was short lived. With his ambitions still firmling across the North Sea, in 1015 he launched a massive fleet of ten thousand Vikings in 200 longships to reconquer his lost kingdom. Over the next few months, Cnut’s men swept across England, devastating the local armies set to stop them. Chief among his victories was the Battle of Assandun in October 1016, at which Cnut defeated Aethered’s son Edmund Ironside and took all of England apart from Wessex. When Edmund died just a few weeks later, Cnut became king of Wessex too at the invitation of the English witan.
At first, Cnut ruled with an iron fist. He was intent on laying the foundations for a lasting dynasty of Danish kings in England, and thus set about taking estates from Englishmen and giving them to his loyal Viking followers. He had Edmund’s two sons exiled, and with them anyone who was deemed loyal to the old king.
Though he’s often unfairly remembered as a harsh and arrogant ruler, throughout his reign Cnut showed himself to be an excellent statesman and diplomat. He fostered close ties with other kingdoms in Europe through marriage and diplomacy, and brokered favourable deals allowing the English to trade and travel extensively throughout Europe. Unlike his father who had rejected Christianity, Cnut was also a generous patron to the Church and close ally to the Holy Roman Empire.
Cnut the Great’s succession was a complicated affair, as two of his sons, one legitimate and one illegitimate, had ambitions for the English throne. Cnut named his son Harthacnut as his heir. Harthacanute was legitimate and more widely accepted in England given his mother was the widow of Æthelred the Unready. However, he was in Denmark when his father died, and unable to take the English throne because otherwise engaged in holding back invading Norwegians.
Harold Harefoot, Cnut’s illegitimate son by his mistress Ælfgifu, decided that he would use his brother’s absence to stake his claim to the throne. The witenagemot in Oxford agreed to grant him the crown until his brother arrived, making him regent. He was crowned, like all English kings, by the Archbishop of Canterbury, however, the Archbishop refused to use the ceremonial regalia. In response, Harold said that he would not go to Church and would revert to the traditional Nordic faith until he was crowned properly.
Harold’s short rule was beset by instability and insubordination by the English noblemen, many of whom didn’t see him as the rightful king. He spent most of his reign fighting to secure his position on the throne: quashing rebellions and exiling or executing opponents to the crown. He had his stepmother, Emma of Normandy, first imprisoned and then exiled, and blinded and killed one of her sons by King Æthelred.
In 1040, Harold died in Oxford aged just 24. Though the cause of his death is unknown, it’s recorded by English monks who despised Harefoot that God finally punished him by striking him down with a sudden, painful illness.
Though proclaimed the heir to the English throne, Harthacnut spent most of his childhood outside of England. His father had sent him to Denmark aged just eight years old to learn the arts of warfare and diplomacy. At the time, Cnut’s North Sea empire was the second largest in Europe, but it was at risk of collapse due to unending challenges and invasions by Norway and Sweden. When he died, Harthacnut chose to stay in Denmark rather than lay claim to the English crown, fearing that he might lose his empire’s heartland were he to leave.
Harthacnut was furious that Harold had stolen his crown, and his rage continued to grow as he watched Harefoot oppress his mother and kill his half-brother, Alfred. Harthacnut prepared to invade England. Having signed a treaty with Norway, he amassed an impressive naval fleet to overthrow his brother. Harold Harefoot died before Harthacnut set sail, but the Danish still chose to take his fleet to English to claim the throne, hoping that this display of power would quiet any noblemen who were loyal to his brother.
Harthacnut ascended the throne without resistance and was crowned in Canterbury Cathedral with the full ceremony. As king, his first order of business was to have Harold exhumed, beheaded and thrown in a river. He then went on to try any noblemen who had been complicit in Alfed’s murder. Though he’d been greeted at Sandwich as the rightful king, Harthacnut’s short reign proved unpopular. He didn’t trust his English earls so ruled tyrannically. His tax regime saw the English paying astronomical fees to their local lords, promoting riots in Worcester at which two tax collectors were killed. King Harthacnut’s reasonable response was to burn the city to the ground.
When Harthacnut died suddenly at a friend’s wedding (possibly by stroke, possibly by poison) he didn’t have any sons to inherit the throne. His Norman half-brother Edward the Confessor stepped up to take the crown, thus ending the Jelling Dynasty and becoming the last Danish king of England.]]>
Norse mythology is rich in fascinating figures and enigmatic spirits, though few have enjoyed such a lively legacy as the Valkyries. Imagined as beautiful warrior women, riding gallantly through a battlefield, or watching from above on flying horses, these intermediaries between the gods and mortals continue to inspire storytellers a thousand years after the Viking Age.
Given the vivid imagery and drama of the Valkyries’ legend, it’s no surprise they continue to pop up in pop culture today. If you’re a fan of the Marvel comics, Xena: Warrior Princess or the God of War series, you’ll be familiar with the modern depictions of Valkyries (usually blonde, slender and armed with a smattering of girl power). But like most modern interpretations of Norse mythology, that’s not entirely true to the Viking Age legend, which itself evolved from different pre-Viking ideas.
Let’s have a look at the legend of the Valkyries: who they were, where they came from and their role in preparing for the end of the world.
The word ‘Valkyrie’ comes from the Old Norse for ‘Chooser of the Slain.’ This refers to the Valkyries’ crucial role in choosing which fallen warriors were worthy of a place in Valhalla and carrying their soul from the mortal realm to Odin’s halls in Asgard. In some stories, they can pre-determine which warriors will survive and which will fall on the battlefield, or even decide the outcome of battles before they have begun. It was believed that the Valkyries were able to see the true courage and honour in a man’s heart, making them able to choose those who had both exceptional skills in combat and the moral code of a virtuous warrior.
Given their role in deciding the fate of fallen warriors, to see a Valkyrie was an omen of war and bloodshed. They were said to ride fearlessly into battle on horseback, their magnificent armour shining in the sun. Some legends even tell of Valkyries riding wolves or boars, or flying above the battlefield to observe the scene below. In some instances, they’re said to
have wings or wear winged helmets and fly among a flock of swans or ravens.
Just as the on-screen Valkyries that we see today are a departure from the Viking-age myth, the Valkyries that the Vikings believed in were quite different from their pre-Viking ancestors. It’s thought that the Valkyries’ legend evolved from an older Germanic idea of female war spirits, who gathered at battlefields and decided the fates of the warriors.
These were not the virtuous caretakers of slain fighters who captivated men with their beauty and carried them off to a wondrous afterlife. The pre-Viking Valkyries were dark entities with powerful, malicious magic which were seen as harbingers of bloodshed and misery. Our clearest depiction of these fearsome early Valkyries comes from Darraðarljóð, a poem in the Njal Saga. Here we find a description of twelve mystical women sitting beside the battlefield of Clontarf, weaving the fates of warriors on a loom made from intestines and weighted by severed heads.
Before the concept of Valhalla took hold in Norse mythology, the Valkyries’ choices for who would live and die were seen as capricious and unpredictable. With no moral code or promise of eternal glory to guide them, it seemed to warriors that their fate would be decided on a whim by an unknowable, unworldly being. As the idea of an afterlife for brave warriors was popularised in Viking folklore, the perception of the Valkyries changed. No longer agents of chaos, they had a specific task to choose the bravest and more honourable of fighters, shifting their image to become virtuous and noble.
It’s also likely that the Valkyries’ image was influenced by stories of Shieldmaidens: Viking women who fought in battle alongside male warriors. This may have spurred the Valkyries’ evolution from observers of war to active participants. The Valkyries’ are usually depicted as wearing armour and carrying spears, and are seen as a crucial force in Odin’s Ragnarok army. Some stories even tell of Valkyries fighting alongside their favoured warriors on Earth, influencing the outcome of battles not by magic but through force.
Just like the word Viking,’Valkyrie’ is a job description, not a race or a species. There are many instances in old Norse stories in which mortal women are chosen to become immortal Valkyries, though the hiring criteria that Odin uses to select these women are shrouded in mystery. It’s mainly believed that Valkyries were chosen along similar lines to warriors in Valhalla: they had to be fearless, skilled in combat, honourable and unwavering in their devotion to the God of War. There’s also some evidence that Valkyries may have been mainly chosen from Odin’s pool of Priestesses in Midgard.
Once a woman is chosen, she undergoes a transformation from mortal flesh to celestial being, intrinsically linked to the divine realm. Her heritage on Earth is left behind as she embraces a new role in Valhalla. In many tales of women becoming Valkyries, they’re even given a new name once they arrive in Odin’s halls.
However glorious or glamorous it might seem, life in Asgard came with a code of conduct which, if broken, could have a Valkyrie relegated back to the mortal realm. The most famous example of this happening is in the story of Brynhild, a renowned Valkyrie who was stripped of her immortal status after letting the wrong king die in battle. Not only was she turned back into a mortal woman, but she was placed into a deep sleep in a ring of fire until a hero came to rescue her.
Marriage, too, could relegate a Valkyrie back to the human realm. There are several stories in Norse mythology of Valkyries having to give up their place in Valhalla when they marry a mortal man. There’s also evidence that marriage could be used as a punishment for a Valkyrie who strayed from Odin’s service. In fact, in the story of Brynhild, Odin directly tells his former servant that she will live out her days in a mortal marriage, never again to fight victoriously in battle.
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Though the Viking Age has long since passed, the echoes of Norse culture and mythology still resonate in modern Nordic society. No-one holds these millennia old traditions more sacred than the followers of Asatru, a modern revival of Viking religion which is steadily gaining momentum. Asatru is the fastest growing religion in Iceland and has spread through the former Viking heartlands of Scandinavia and even further afield to the UK and US. Over 1000 years since Iceland became Christian, more and more Icelanders are finding their way back to the old gods.
The word ‘Asatru’ roughly translates to ‘true to the Æsir’ - the main pantheon of Norse gods including Odin, Thor, Freja, Frey and Baldr. Followers practise traditional Viking rituals, celebrate Old Norse festivals and study the works of Snorri Sturluson in faith groups based on Viking Age communities. But that isn’t to say that everything has been lifted directly from the past. With values of acceptance, peace and environmentalism, Asatru is a fascinating reconstruction of Viking religion fit for the modern day.
Iceland became Christian in the year 1000, not through war and bloodshed but by an act of parliament. At this time, most Icelanders still worshipped the old Norse gods, though a growing Christian community meant that the population was essentially following two different legal codes. From the year 1000, Icelanders were still permitted to follow the old religion in private, but they had to abide by Christian laws publicly. Within just one generation, almost the entire population had converted to Christianity.
Almost 1000 years later, the spark of the pagan revival was ignited in a Reyjkevik cafe. Four friends, Sveinbjörn Beinteinsson, Jörmundru Ingi Hansen, Dagur Þorleifsson and Þorsteinn Guðjónsson, sat around a table and discussed the idea of founding a pagan congregation based on the belief in hidden forces in the land and the connection because the natural and human world. These four would go on to be the first leaders of the Ásatrúarfélagið, the first and largest official Asatru organisation.
When Beinteinsson applied to register Asatru as an official religion, he was initially greeted with push-back from the Ministry of Justice and Ecclesiastical Affairs and ridicule in the press. Just as it looked like Asatru would not get off the ground legally, the ministry’s hand was pushed by the Bishop of Iceland, who wrote in an open letter that denying the pagan congregation legal recognition was a flagrant disregard for freedom of religion. Asatru was officially recognised by the Icelandic government in 1972.
The Ásatrúarfélagið received a fair amount of media coverage in Iceland when it was first founded, but when the congregation held its first public blót (celebration), the event’s coverage went international. Asatru followers at the first blót were outnumbered by Icelandic and international journalists. Though their numbers were few, everyone in the country knew who the Ásatrúarfélagið were.
For the next two decades, the number of followers rose slowly but steadily. It was only in the early 1990s that their numbers began to skyrocket. In 1993, Sveinbjörn Beinteinsson, the allsherjargoði (high priest), passed away and, just like at the first blót twenty years early, the press gathered round to see his successor elected. This time, the media interest translated into members of the public joining the religion. Official members of the congregation more than tripled between 1994 and 2002.
It was also around this time that Asatru began to spread outside of Iceland. The Swedish government recognised Asatru in 1994, closely followed by Norway and Denmark in 1996 and 1997. The movement also garnered interest outside of the Viking heartlands, with congregations popping up in the UK, Ireland and the USA.
Since 2002, Asatru has grown by around 15% every single year, making it Iceland’s fastest-growing religion and the largest non-Christian faith. Today there are more than five thousand official members of the Ásatrúarfélagið, and even more who attend the public blót. In 2015, the organisation began construction on the first pagan temple in Iceland in over 1000 years. The Hof will be located just outside downtown Reykjavik, and will have enough space for 250 followers to gather together to worship the Norse gods.
Asatru congregations are organised as small communities based on the structure of a Viking-era village. These local groups each have their own goði - a priest who carries out blót and rituals such as weddings and funerals. There are several main celebrations in the year when followers gather to honour a specific god. These festivals are:
- Jólablót on the Winter Solstice, in honour of Freyja
Blót can also be organised whenever there is a specific need in the community, such as to ask the gods for health, luck, strength in the face of adversity or a good harvest. In this case, the congregation will leave offerings to a specific god with authority over their specific situation, or all the deities in a ceremony called an All Gods Blót.
Asatru differs from most modern religions in that it doesn’t have any written teachings. Instead, followers are encouraged to read the Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda. There have also been books written by Asatru leaders about Norse history and religious practice, such as the collection of Rimur (Icelandic poetry) by the first high priest Sveinbjörn Beinteinsson.
Though the Asatru religion is based on Viking-era tradition, it has also been shaped around the values and goals of the present-day. All of the official Asatru congregations in Europe stress that they are an accepting and welcoming community, taking members of any gender, race or sexuality. While previous attempts at reviving Norse folk religion in the 19th and 20th centuries often used Viking-age symbols to promote nationalism, militarism or xenophobia, the Asatru High Priests have all been outspoken in rejecting this practice.
According to Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson, the High Priest of Ásatrúarfélagið, people are drawn to the religion by its focus on harmony, humility and peace. Though based on old traditions, Asatru is also tinged with modern values of acceptance and protection of the environment, making it a fascinating fusion of Viking-age and modern Scandinavian beliefs.
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A jovial kingdom where the dead lived happily under the watchful eye of Odin, being granted entry to Valhalla was the ultimate achievement of a Viking warrior. Entrance was selective, allowing only the bravest and more honourable the chance to sit at the eternal feasting table beneath the gold-bright roof of shields.
But how would you gain entry to the most prestigious realm of the afterlife, how would you spend your days there and what was the catch to live the Viking dream after death?
Not just anyone could get into Valhalla. Odin had a strict admittance policy, allowing only the best and the bravest warriors into his kingdom. In the Prose Edda, Icelandic poet Snorri Sturluson tells us that a Viking could only make it to Valhalla if he died in battle. Those who died of sickness, old age or any other natural cause, no matter how fearsome a warrior they had been in life, would go to Hel, the Viking underworld.
Sturluson is the only writer who gives us a direct statement about who can and who cannot go to Valhalla in Norse folklore. That being said, some historians have suggested that his tidy separation between Valhalla and Hel may be an oversimplification designed to systematise the often messy threads of Viking mythology. Iceland had already converted to Christianity by the time the Prose Edda was written, and it’s likely that while Norse religion was being actively practised it was believed that any exceptional warrior, whether they died in battle or peacefully in their bed after a lifetime of victories, could be granted entrance to Valhalla. After all, if Odin wanted only the best fighters it wouldn't make sense to rule out warriors who were unbeaten.
As well as being an exceptional warrior and possibly dying by the sword, a Viking had to be honourable both on and off the battlefield to go to Valhalla. A successful candidate would be rational and just, and not act greedy, cruel or dishonest. It was also generally seen as helpful to be devoted to Odin in life since he was the one who got to pick where you went after death. Frequent offers and sacrifices to the God of War would not go amiss.
Valhalla was one of the 12 realms of Asgard, the home of the Gods. To get to Valhalla, a fallen warrior would be collected on the battlefield by a Valkyrie, to then be carried on horseback across Bifrost, the rainbow bridge connecting Midgard to Asgard.
Once he arrived, the Viking warrior would find a (near-)eternity of fighting, feasting and festivities stretched out before him. Each day, the realm’s residents would pass the hours fighting for sport without the risk of bodily harm. They could rest assured that any injury that they acquired would be fully healed by evening time, when a boar named Saehrimnir would be slaughtered, and the men would feast on his fresh meat. Alongside this offering, they would drink liquor milked from a magic goat called Heidrun. Just like the warriors’ fast healing wounds, Saehrimnir would be revived each day to be feasting on until the arrival of Doomsday.
A life after death of raucous revelry is surely all that a Viking warrior could ever dream of, so what’s the catch? Odin wasn’t collecting the best and more fearless Vikings out of the goodness of his heart but building an army of excellent fighters to support him on Ragnarök.
Just like other belief systems around the world, Norse theology foretold a Doomsday called Ragnarök, in which the world would be destroyed in a series of catastrophic disasters. Midgard would be burned, and the world would be submerged underwater. The Gods would then have to go to war against the giants and the beasts. Most fearsome of all would be Fenrur, a demonic wolf created by Loki and the giantess Angerboda. On Ragnarök, he would break free from the rock that he was chained to devour the sun and eventually swallow Odin whole.
Though Odin was prophesied to meet his end on the Ragnarök battlefield, he still wanted to be prepared for the upcoming fight. His army of fallen warriors in Valhalla, the Einherjar, would fight by his side on Doomsday, offering the Gods the greatest possible chance of success in a war that they were fated to lose.
The Vikings had a complicated belief system when it came to the afterlife. Valhalla was by no means the only option on where to go after death, so even if a warrior missed out on the ultimate glory of being welcomed into Odin’s realm, he would still have had an onward destination.
By some accounts, Odin let in half of those who died in battle, leaving the other half to the Goddess Freya. Those souls would be taken to Fólkvangr, meaning ‘people’s field’ or ‘field of the host,’ where they would live happily, though less raucously, until Ragnarök. The dead would live in Freya’s palace, Sessumnir, which is often depicted as a vast ship resting in the centre of a grassy field. Some archaeologists have theorised that the ship-shaped burial mounds, often found in open fields, could be a reference to Sessumnir, and a way for the living to ask Freya to take their departed loved one into her realm.
Alternatively, if a Viking were to lose his life at sea, before even getting to the battlefield, he might find himself in the Realm of Ràn. Ràn was the personification of the ocean in Viking folklore, and often depicted as mysterious and cruel. She was said to catch the souls of Vikings lost at sea in her net and take them to spend the rest of time in her underwater kingdom.
Finally, any Viking who died of sickness, old age or an accident could go to Hel, the Norse Underworld. Though the name sounds similar to the Christian Hell, Viking Hel was not a place for eternal damnation, but somewhere where Norsemen and women could spend their days eating, drinking and socialising. Hel was certainly less prestigious than Valhalla and Fólkvangr, and was located underground rather than in Asgard, but despite this, it was generally seen as a neutral, if not pleasant, place to spend the afterlife.
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From the late 8th century until 1066, the sight of a Viking longship on the horizon was enough to strike fear into an Anglo-Saxon heart. Though it’s impossible to imagine Britain today without the impact that the Vikings left on our shores (from city building and cultural practices to shaping the English language) the relationship between Britons and the Vikings was often violent and cruel. Viking invasions were frequent and destructive, whether they were carried out by small bands of raiders or Ragnar Lothbrok’s legendary Great Heathen Army.
Scandinavians had been trading in Britain long before the start of the Viking age, but by the mid-9th century, Norsemen were already invading major British settlements and establishing puppet rule. So how did the relationship between the two civilisations go from a peaceful partnership to all-out dominance?
While Lindisfarne is usually cited as the first Viking attack in England, that’s not entirely true. Just four years before, Scandinavian sailors murdered a public official in Dorset, then part of the Kingdom of Wessex.
Bearduheard, the first known victim of Viking aggression on British shores, was a reeve on England’s south coast. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle tells us that one day in 789, three Viking ships approached the island of Portland, and, thinking them to be traders, a local bailiff called for the reeve to collect the necessary taxes to trade in Wessex. Bearduheard rode out with a few assistants at his side, rowed to the Viking longship and asked the sailors to hand over the required sum. But the money was not forthcoming. Bearduheard was murdered and the Norsemen sailed on to trade further up the coast.
Dr David Petts, an associate professor of archaeology at Durham University, describes the murder in Portland as a ‘Viking Trojan Horse’ in that the sailors approach the shore under the guise of being traders and then get their swords out. He thinks that probably much the same thing happened at Lindisfarne. Just like the Portland reeve, the monks would not have seen sails on the horizon and panicked. ‘They might not have realised until the last moment that they’re raiders, not traders.’
The first large-scale Viking attack on British shores took place on the Northumbrian island of Lindisfarne, also known as Holy Island. Lindisfarne was home to one of the most important monasteries in Britain and was credited as the place where Christianity was reintroduced in the North of England. Built in the 7th century, this was the main church and final resting place of Saint Cuthbert, an incredibly important figure in the spread of Christianity in Britain and considered at the time somewhat of an English national saint.
But Lindisfarne was more than just an isolated monastery. By some estimates it may even have been the largest Northumbrian population centre north of York. The community counted not only some 200 monks, but just as many craftsmen, fishermen and tenant farmers, many of whom lived across the causeway which connects the island to the mainland during low tide. It was a wealthy population too. The monastery's importance as a religious site was reflected in its abundance of precious relics, gold chalices and other finery, while the massive estates on the mainland would have harboured the prize possessions of wealthy traders.
But there were bad omens at Lindisfarne in 793, and the population worried about an impending catastrophe. Later scholars wrote of sightings of ‘immense whirlwinds, flashes of lightning and fiery dragons seen flying in the air.’ All this pointed to a violent disruption coming for the island; one so shocking that it would bring about a whole new age.
On Friday the 8th of June 793, Lindisfarne was attacked by Viking raiders who sailed in from Denmark. This was the first large-scale Norse attack on British soil and was a shocking escalation of the trading relationship that Britons and Scandinavians had known in the past.
Perhaps 100 Viking raiders sprung from three or four longships to ravage and pillage the island. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle describes that ‘woeful inroads of heathen men destroyed God’s church in Lindisfarne by fierce robbery and slaughter.’ It’s impossible to know the exact number of casualties, but several monks were murdered and many more were carried off to Scandinavia as slaves.
However, almost more shocking to the Christian community of Lindisfarne was the theft and destruction of religious treasures. Relics and ornaments were stolen, including the jewelled cover of the Lindisfarne gospels, one of the most important English Medieval manuscripts. The tomb of Saint Cuthbert was also robbed and left in a state of disarray.
News of the Viking raid on Lindisfarne quickly spread throughout Northumbria and beyond. The most influential commenter was Alcuin, a Northumbrian-born advisor to Charlemagne, who wrote to Bishop Higbald to express his dismay that such a thing could happen in one of the holiest places in England. Alcuin was also keen to get to the bottom of the cause of the attack. Believing it to be a punishment from God, he urged the bishop to impress on the monks the importance of praying, not wearing fancy clothes and staying chaste and sober.
In his letters, he also hinted that depravity in wider Northumbrian society may have angered God. The kingdom was in a state of political volatility. Just a few years before, the King Ælfwald of Northumbria had been murdered and the body of the killer had been buried on Lindisfarne. While Alcuin believed that the attack may have been a divine punishment on the king’s assassin and the monks who had given him a Christian burial, the Vikings may well have seen the same events as an opportunity to capitalise on instability in the kingdom and loot one of its richest monasteries.
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We know the Norse Gods for their epic strength and wisdom, but behind every deity is their animal companion. While you might associate the idea of spirit animals with indigenous North American culture, the Vikings had their own similar concept. In Norse mythology, Fylguir are animals that are connected spiritually to a human and can be used to send messages, act as guides, or warn of impending danger. Vikings conceptualised thought and personality as something entirely separate from a person’s physical form, so it was common practice for sharmans, priests or sorcerers to send forth Fylguir to represent themselves as animals.
Some of the most famous Fylguir in Norse mythology are those connected to the gods. These faithful companions served their masters by pulling chariots, sending messages and warnings, or even stepping in to be served up as a tasty meal.
Even before the dawn of the Viking age, depictions of Odin, the God of War, often showed him accompanied by two wolves. Named Geri and Freki, these were Odin’s first animal companions and ventured by the god’s side on his travels and onto battlefields. They are most often depicted sitting at their master’s as he watches the realms from his throne, acting as his protectors.
Geri and Freki were said to have been created by Odin long before humans first walked the Earth. In fact, some texts point to the two wolves playing a key part in the origins of mankind in Nordic folklore. It was said that Geri and Freki had nurtured the first human children, taking them into their pack and teaching them qualities of courage, love and loyalty.
Odin told the first humans to learn from their lupine foster parents, and as such, Wolves took on a highly symbolic role in Viking literature and belief. They were considered multifaceted creatures, representing both positive traits of loyalty and bravery, as well as negative chaos and cruelty. In folklore, they featured heavily in battle stores, being said to carry slain warriors to Valhalla. Seeing a grey wolf beside a battlefield was considered a good omen for Viking warriors, indicating that the god of war was acting on their behalf.
Despite being his first companions, Geri and Freki may come second place in the ranks of Odin’s most famous animal counterparts. In the 21st century, the crown is clamped tightly in the talons of Huginn and Muninn, the pair of ravens said to act as Odin’s eyes in Midgard. Legend had it that each morning the birds would all sound the world, taking in all the news and events of the day. Icelandic writer Snorri Sturluson tells us that when they return, ‘the two ravens sit on [Odin’s] shoulders and whisper all the news which they see and hear into his ear.’
With their names meaning ‘Thought’ and ‘Emotion,’ they’re a great example of Fylguir acting as a separate representation of an individual's consciousness. Vikings considered the mind to be something separate from the body, so it could be that Huginn and Muninn are supposed to literally carry Odin’s thoughts and emotions on their travels.
Like wolves, ravens held a great deal of symbolism for Vikings, and spotting one could be considered an omen. As carrion birds, ravens often appear on a battlefield or after bloodshed, so similar to sighting a grey wolf Nordic warriors may have interpreted this to mean that Odin was with them in battle. Due to their attraction to blood and decay, ravens were also frequent visitors after a sacrifice. This was also taken as a good sign that Odin had accepted the offering.
It’s hard to think of a more powerful image than Thor being pulled through the sky in a chariot pulled by two flying goats. Tanngrisnir (meaning ‘tooth grinder’) and Tanngnjóstr (meaning ‘gap tooth’) were the God of Lightning's loyal companions, providing transportation, companionship, intelligence and even sustenance when food is running low.
The most famous story involving Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr can be found in The Prose Edda, as Thor and Loki are travelling to the land of the Giants. The two come upon a lowly farmer’s cottage and ask if they can stay the night. They find that the farmer is extremely poor and doesn’t have enough food for his family, let alone two hungry gods knocking on his door. To thank his host, Thor slaughters his two goats and cooks them into a hearty feast for the farmer’s family to enjoy. He has, however, one stipulation: that they must not eat or damage the bones. The next morning, Thor uses his hammer to resurrect Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr, and the two pull the chariot as if nothing had happened.
Though the details may have faded into obscurity, this story lives on in Scandinavian Christmas traditions, as a small straw goat is a common decoration in modern Nordic homes during the yuletide season.
Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr aren’t the only chariot pullers in the Norse animal pantheon. Freya, the goddess of fertility, was said to ride in a chariot pulled by two grey cats. In the Prose Edda they are called the ‘Gib-Cats,’ and it’s said that they were given to the goddess as a gift from Thor. Legend tells that the Lightning God was lulled to sleep by a beautiful melody one day while fishing, and, upon waking, set out to find whoever was singing the charming lullaby. He came upon two magical kittens, one of which was singing to itself in its sleep. Thor scooped up the cats and gave them to Freya to be her companions.
Cats were sacred to Freya, and Viking men and women came to see them as a symbol of fertility and femininity. It was thought good luck to be kind to wandering cats since this would win over the goddess’ favour. This gave rise to the phrase ‘she’s fed the cat well’ if a woman was experiencing good fortune, particularly if the sun shone on her wedding day.
Of course there are many more Norse gods that have animal companions, but we'll save that for another blog...
]]>Whether travelling overseas, fighting in a battle on foreign shores or simply toiling on the family farm, Vikings lead active lives which needed to be supported by a varied and rich diet. Rich in meat, fish, nutritious greens and healthy fats, Vikings had some of the best diets across Medieval Europe due to their skill in farming, hunting, foraging, and storing perishable foods.
People alive during the 8th to the 11th centuries did not have the luxury that we do of eating the same fresh fruit and vegetables all year round. The average Viking was self-sufficient, eating what they could produce seasonally on their own farmstead and hunt, trap or forage from the surrounding landscape. With crops in the fields, livestock in the sheds and a fertile landscape of wild plants and animals just outside their door, the Viking pantry may have been as varied and interesting as the array in your fridge today.
Daily Meal Times
Vikings typically ate two meals during the day: dagmall (day meal) and nattmall (night meal). Dagmall was eaten about an hour after rising and consisted of leftover stew from the night before. The stew would remain in the pot overnight, and by the morning the at would have risen to the top, providing the perfect slow-release energy for the working day ahead. While the adults enjoyed this hearty stew, the children usually ate porridge with bread, fruit and/or honey for their breakfast. The adults may also have had some bread or fruit alongside their morning meal.
Preparing the nattmall was one of the key duties of the women of the household. This hearty stew was prepared in a metal cauldron or soapstone pot and slowly simmered over the central hearth of the longhouse. Meat or fish was the main ingredient, with added vegetables and legumes for additional nutrients. One pot of stew was expected to last several days, with new ingredients being added each day to bulk up the meal.
Bread was also usually served alongside the nattmall stew. Viking bread didn’t look much like the leavened loaves that we have today. It would have typically been made of barley or rye and cooked on a flat stone or iron griddle. These flatbreads had to be prepared daily since they went stale after just a few hours.
The Family Farm
The bulk of the Viking diet consisted of food that could be grown on the family farm. The whole family helped to produce food from the land or the livestock. While men worked the fields, women could look after animals and process milk into cheese, butter or skyr (an extremely soft cheese with a taste and texture similar to Greek yoghurt). Children could also help by collecting eggs, removing stones from fields, and performing other light duties.
Vikings performed a kind of mixed agriculture, with several types of crops planted in the same field. The primary crops would have been grains such as oats, barley and rye, as well as some root vegetables. In Denmark and the southernmost regions of Norway and Sweden, it was also possible to grow wheat. A family may also have grown vegetables on their own land, though for the most part, these would have been foraged.
The types of vegetables that Vikings could have grown would have varied by where they lived. A farm in the fertile hills of central Jutland might have been abundant with carrots, turnips and greens, perhaps even with a herb garden to flavour meals and provide medicines. On the contrary, farmers living in the rocky mountains of Western Norway would have had a harder time growing vegetables at all and thus subsisted primarily on grains.
Foraging
As well as the grains and vegetables grown on the farm, Vikings were expert foragers who knew where they could find tasty supplements to their diet on the fertile Scandinavian landscape. Foragable produce could include anything from greens such as lettuce, onions and cabbage, fruits and berries, and herbs such as parsley, mustard, dill and thyme. Since there was no school for children to go to during the Viking era, this job would likely have been done by the youngest members of the family.
Feasting
If you’ve watched any films or TV shows set in the Viking age you’re bound to be familiar with the Vikings’ fondness for feasting. Medieval Norsemen held feasts to celebrate many important seasonal and religious festivals, such as Jul, Mabon and Midsummer, as well as to mark personal celebrations such as a wedding or successful voyage. Even poorer hosts would offer their guests a bountiful spread of rich and varied foods, including spit-roasted meat, hearty stews, buttered vegetables, fresh fruits and green vegetables. Some Viking feasts would last for several days, so it often wasn’t just the host who would store and collect food for the guests, but the whole community who would come together to produce this amazing spread.
Of course, we couldn’t talk about Viking feasts without mentioning drinking. Mead and Ale were not only drunk during feasts (but they were also often safer to drink than water), though celebrations were really where they came into their own. Beer was made by fermenting barley, and possibly adding hops for flavour. It would have been relatively weak by modern standards. Mead was normally the stronger choice. This sweet honey wine’s large quantity of fermented sugar meant that it could pack quite the punch.
Since grapes don’t grow naturally in Scandinavia, Vikings didn’t make their own grape wines, however, that doesn’t mean they never tried it. Wine was encountered abroad in continental Europe and the Middle East and was imported for the Viking nobility to enjoy. Given its rarity and exclusivity to the rich, it would have been quite the status symbol.
Food for Voyaging
While most Vikings would have spent their entire lives on land, the minority who set sail on the high seas are so significant to the society’s history that it’s impossible not to mention the diet of seafaring Vikings. Since Viking longships were not equipped with refrigerators, most of the food brought aboard would have been dried, salted or smoked so that it would be safe to eat throughout the voyage. Particularly important were sea biscuits: a nutritious, long-lasting flatbread made from barley flour, wheat meal, smoked meat and dried vegetables. As far as fresh food went, sailors could fish from the side of the boat, and chickens may also have been brought on the voyage to provide eggs.
Viking voyagers also encountered the foods of the distant lands that they travelled to. In the Byzantine Empire, Vikings learned to fry food in walnut oil, and amassed vast quantities of walnuts to be brought back North. Here they also traded furs, skins, walrus ivory and slaves for cumin, nutmeg and ambergris. This was precious currency which they could in turn be traded on the Asian Silkroad or be taken home as a delicacy for the Viking nobility to enjoy.]]>
The Middle Ages were not an easy time to be a woman. For a society that’s gone down in history for its raids and invasions, you might think that Viking women would have had little power over their menfolk. On the contrary, Norse society was one of the most equal in Europe, affording women significant power over various aspects of life.
Of the Viking women you might have heard about before, most are probably great queens or mythical heroines. While the legendary Valkyries, fighters like Lagerta or Freydis and the magnificent Oseberg Queens certainly lead fascinating lives (and might even deserve their own blog posts), let’s look right now at the life of the average Viking woman.
Meet Bodil, a Viking woman living in the Orkney Islands during the 10th century. Let’s take a look at a day in her life to see what responsibilities, opportunities and difficulties women like her faced in Norse society.
The Mistress of the Farm
We meet Bodil one morning in early summer. Her husband has recently left on a trading voyage to Ireland, leaving her in charge of the farm. Her sons will work the land in his absence, while she’ll take responsibility for the livestock. Thus, her first task of the day is in the cow shed, a small outbuilding beside the longhouse. She milks her modest herd and takes the produce to the dairy next door where the morning’s labour begins in earnest.
Dairy products made up a significant part of the Viking diet, and it’s likely that making butter, cheese and yoghurt was primarily a woman’s responsibility. While she churns the milk to make butter, she instructs her daughter on how to extract the whey from the milk by heating it in a pan, the first step in the five-week process of making cheese. As a mother, it’s important that she teaches her daughter how to run a farm herself one day. Afterall, she could be married in just a few short years.
On her way back to the longhouse, Bodil stops to collect honey from the beehive in the eaves on the tool shed. She can keep that honey to trade with a young couple who are getting married in the Autumn. They’ll need as much as they can get their hands on if they’re going to have enough mead to go around the entire village.
The Homemaker
Most of a woman’s time during the Viking age was spent in the home. A typical Viking longhouse consisted of one single room, where all the day's activities, from cooking to sleeping to socialising, would be performed side-by-side.
When Bodil returns to the longhouse, her mother-in-law is preparing the meat and vegetables for the evening stew. With food already being taken care of, Bodil dedicates the next few hours to the task of spinning wool from their flock of sheep into yarn. She takes the rough wool, which she cleaned and dried the day before, and spins it into yarn using a spindle stick. Later, she can weave this yarn into woollen cloth on a loom or knit it into small garments like socks.
Textile making was one of the main responsibilities of a Viking woman, and it could be extremely labour-intensive. Alongside wool, the main fabric that had to be produced was linen, which was made by planting flax seeds and growing them into flax plants. Once mature, the plants were then cut, and harvested plants were processed by a combination of soaking the stems in water (to allow the stem fibers to separate from the stems by partly decaying the stems), then separating the fibers by beating them and combing them out so they can be spun into linen thread. This thread can then be used for weaving linen fabric as well as for sewing or other needs. Though she can buy or trade a few more complex items, such as shoes or tools, from artisans in the village, almost everything that Bodil and her family use in their daily lives are made at home. It’s a lot of work, so she’s glad she has her daughter and mother-in-law around to help her.
Women in Society
When evening begins to fall, Bodil’s friend Solveig and her daughter come over for a catch-up. The girls are sent out into the woods to gather fruits and berries, while the women sit in front of the hearth, get started on some light sewing, and spend time together as friends.
The two met years ago on the ship from Norway when their families uprooted from Scandinavia to find more fertile farmland than was offered in their mountainous home region. Though historians had previously thought that only Viking men took part in voyages, we know now that it was not uncommon for entire families to migrate across the seas, women and children included.
Solveig has been going through a difficult patch recently. Having divorced her husband just a month ago, she and her children were now living with her brother until he could find a suitable man for her to remarry. Compared to other regions of Europe, Viking women were quite powerful in that they could request to leave their husbands simply by calling a witness to their home and declaring that they wanted a divorce. The marriage contract usually stipulated how their property would be divided in such a case, and some women were even able to claim back their dowries.
A Mother and Educator
Nighttime is family time in Bodil’s household. As the women of the household, she and her mother-in-law share an important role as the moral and spiritual leaders of the family. With her children gathered around the fire, she tells stories about the Norse gods and Viking heroes. Norse men and women had a large pantheon of gods to remember, as well as a litany of other supernatural beings, so teaching the younger generation the crucial stories and beliefs of the community was a vital job for a mother.
While men are better known as storytellers in the Viking age through the cultural contributions of Skalds (bards), Viking women were also experienced storytellers as they kept the oral tradition alive in the home. That’s not to say that there were not female skalds alongside their male counterparts, but as women’s main domain was in the home, the home is where you’ll find the average Viking woman flexing her storytelling muscles.
]]>Picture a blazing ship set adrift into the inky North Sea, carrying the body of some great and noble warlord. ‘Viking funerals’ like these might be one of the first things that you imagine when you think of Medieval Norse culture. Such a powerful mental image does seem befitting of the powerful Viking legacy. However, as stirring a picture as it might be (and as good as it might look on a cinema screen), the ‘Viking Funeral’ was not the flaming longboat affair that’s usually depicted in storybooks.
Unlike what Hollywood might have us believe, we can’t really talk about ‘Viking Funerals’ as a monolith. Practices varied across centuries and regions and between rich and poor members of society. By collecting individual threads of evidence from archaeological sites, sagas and travellers’ accounts, historians have been able to create a tapestry of what Norse funerals probably looked like, and it’s not exactly what you might expect.
The Death of Baldr
Before we talk about what Viking Funerals entailed, let’s get the big blazing misconception out of the way. No, as dramatic as they are to watch in films, Viking Funerals did not involve a longship being set on fire and cast out into the ocean like a floating crematorium. What we’re describing here is the funeral of Baldr, the son of Odin and Frigg. After being murdered by Loki with a dart made from a mistletoe branch, Baldr’s body was carried to the shore on Odin’s horse, where it was laid to rest on a mighty longship named Hringhorni. His wife, Nanna, who died of grief right there on the spot, was laid beside him on a funeral pyre on the decks of the ship. Odin gave his son a gold armband, whispered a few words into his ear, and the flaming ship was sent out to sea.
This is obviously a very powerful story, but it describes the final rites of a God, not a mortal man. Even the funerals of noblemen in the Viking Age would not have included the drama of a flaming longship drifting away from a pack of mourners on the beach. Though popular in stories today, the stereotypical ‘Viking Funeral’ is a work of fiction.
Burials and Cremations
Vikings said goodbye to the body of a loved-one in two main ways: burial and cremation. Cremation was favoured by early Vikings, who believed that the fire’s smoke would carry the deceased’s spirit to the afterlife. Once cremated, the remains were normally buried in an urn. Though the presence of a funeral pyre might remind you of the Hollywood Viking Funeral, in reality, such affairs were strictly land-based.
As the centuries wore on, cremation was gradually replaced with burial as the primary funerary method. Graves varied greatly to reflect the importance of the deceased within the community, ranging from shallow graves for the lowest-class women and children to immense burial mounds for the wealthiest and most powerful Vikings. The largest known burial mound is the North Mound in Jelling, Denmark, which was built to be the last resting place of King Gorm the Old. Measuring over 10 metres high, it would have taken several men several days to build, reflecting the importance of the king and the reverence reserved for him even after death. The late king’s son, Harald Bluetooth, who had the mound built, also had a stake in its impressive stature. After all, any new ruler would want to emphasise his father’s power now that said power had been passed on to him.
Of Boats and Burials
Though Hollywood’s burning longship funerals may be a work of fiction, there is a kernel of truth in what we see on the silver screen. Boats have been found at Viking funeral sites all over Scandinavia, irrespective of whether the deceased was cremated or buried. A respected member of the community during what has been called the ‘burning age’ may have been cremated on a funeral pyre on the decks of a ship, which was then buried beneath a burial mound. When burials became more popular, the body was often laid to rest upon the decks, before the whole was covered by earth and soil. In fact, many of our best-preserved examples of longships have been those found at burial sites. The Oseberg Ship, an immense vessel with elaborate carvings and space for 30 oarsmen, was discovered as the final resting place of two Viking women. Though we don’t know who they were, we can only guess that they were incredibly important religious or political leaders to warrant such a lavish tomb.
Even when the body was not buried with a real longship, the image of a boat could be invoked around their burial mound using what has been called ‘ship settings.’ This practice involved creating the outline of a ship around the grave site using stones or boulders. The largest example of a ship setting is, again, at Jelling. Gorm the Old’s grave was surrounded by pillars in the shape of an enormous longship, measuring 360 metres from nose to tail.
Grave Goods
The vastness of their burial ship isn’t the only reason we know the Oseberg women were wealthy. They were also laid to rest with a treasure trove of riches, including everything from fine ornaments and clothing, to livestock, to sailing equipment.
Grave goods were a staple part of a Viking burial. Medieval Scandinavian were sent off to the afterlife with everything that they might need on their journey, be that practical equipment or fine clothes. Men were often buried with weapons, tools and even gaming sets, whereas a woman’s loot was more likely to include clothes, jewellery and textiles. Animals and slaves may also have been included. In fact, the most famous account of a Viking funeral, found in the diary of an Islamic traveller named Ahmad ibn Fadlan, tells of a Viking chieftain being cremated on the decks of a longship surrounded by food, drink, animals, accessories, weapons and even a female slave to serve him in the afterlife.
Christian Burials
Though King Gorm was originally entombed beneath his enormous burial mound, this would not be his final resting place. When his son converted to Christianity, Gorm was exhumed and reburied beneath Jelling church and a magnificent rune stone with an engraving of Jesus was erected in his honour.
There’s evidence that the elaborate Viking funeral became simpler as Christianity crept across Scandinavia. As the new religion took hold, funerals combined both Norse and Christian practices. Early Christian funerals still sometimes featured grave goods, though these were usually fewer and more practical than the riches of times gone by. Laying the deceased to rest on the decks of a ship also fell out of fashion and burial firmly took hold over cremation as the funerary method of choice. However, it was around this time that rune stones began popping up all over Scandinavia to honour the dead and tell of their achievements, similar to how we might use a gravestone today.
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Viking weddings are making a comeback. Many modern couples who dream of a back-to-basics ceremony are choosing outdoor handfasting ceremonies, attended only by their nearest and dearest, over a big white wedding in a church. But how close are the modern Viking-inspired weddings to how real Medieval Scandinavians tied the knot? Let’s peel back the veil of history and see how Vikings chose a partner, prepared for marriage and celebrated their big day. While there’s a lot to take inspiration from for your rustic, woodland wedding-day, there might be some aspects that you choose to leave out too.
Finding a Partner
During the Viking era, marriage was about making advantageous unions between families or groups and providing a framework for having children, with love barely factoring into the equation. Most marriages were arranged by the couple’s families. A would-be bride would have her husband decided for her by either her father or her brother, and the law did not require her to consent to the match. That being said, it was good practice for a father to allow his daughter some say over whom she married. Common wisdom had it that a wedding with a reluctant bride would not lead to a happy marriage, and even if Viking marriages were more about politics than love, most fathers still wanted their daughters to be happy.
With the marriage arranged, it was time for the bride and groom’s families to get down to business. No matter how enthusiastic the participants, a marriage wasn’t legally binding without a bride price paid to the wife’s family and a dowry paid to the husband’s family. Though the bride price (also known as Mundr) was dependent on how much the groom could pay, there was a legal minimum of 8 ounces of silver in Iceland and 12 ounces in Norway. This ‘poor man’s price’ ensured that a man had the funds to support his future wife and children and covered the loss of a free worker on the bride’s family’s land. The dowry was usually a larger sum, which the husband was expected to keep in trust to support his wife and to ensure that she would have enough to live on if he passed away.
Planning the Wedding
A lot of logistics went into planning a Viking wedding and there could be years between the initial betrothal and the wedding day. If the engaged pair were a noble couple living in faraway Iceland, preparation for their wedding could require several trips back and forth to the Scandinavian heartland to gather food, fabrics and, of course, guests.
Weddings were typically held in the late summer or autumn so that enough food was available for a bountiful wedding feast and so that guests would be able to travel easily overland. Though weddings always began on Friday in honour of the Goddess Frigg, they could sometimes last up to a whole week, so gathering enough food for all the guests was no mean feat. There would also have to be enough mead to go around, so getting married in early autumn meant that the entire Spring and Summer’s honey harvest could be poured into the guests’ merriment.
Preparing from Marriage
In the days before the ceremony, the soon-to-be bride would go to the bathhouse with her married female friends and relatives to be thoroughly cleansed in preparation for the big day and instructed on her duties as a married woman. During this time she’d need to get a new wardrobe, as clothes were important in denoting whether a woman was married or unmarried. Particularly important was the removal of her ‘kransen’, a circlet worn by unmarried girls, which would be carefully wrapped cloth to keep for her future daughter.
The groom also had his own pre-wedding rituals. He and his friends would go to the graveyard, break into a family tomb and acquire a sword to be used in the wedding ceremony. During this highly symbolic action, the groom entered the grave as a boy and re-emerged as a man. Before the wedding, the groom’s party would sacrifice a goat to ask Thor for a happy and fruitful marriage. The goat’s blood was also kept to be used during the wedding.
The Wedding Day
Finally, the big day arrived. Unlike modern weddings, Vikings didn’t place much importance on what the bride and groom wore to the ceremony. For women, the hairstyle was far more significant than the dress. Since married women either tied up or covered their hair, her wedding day was the last opportunity for a bride to wear her hair long and loose. Brides wore a wedding crown, usually made of silver and decorated with crystals and red and green silk cords, on top of luscious, flowing locks. Poorer women who couldn’t afford such finery would weave their crown out of hay and dried flowers.
One of the most important parts of the ceremony was the sword exchange. Using an heirloom from the bride’s side and the sword that the groom had stolen from a family grave just nights before, the two would exchange their weapons, with rings resting on the tip. The sword exchange represented the two sides of the family coming together to protect one another: the groom would protect the bride, and in turn, her father would transfer his protection of his daughter onto her new husband.
Another key aspect, which is often incorporated into modern Viking-inspired weddings, was the handfasting ceremony. Here, the bride and groom’s hands were tied with ribbons or cords as they exchanged their vows, symbolising the entwining of their two lives. This tradition gives us the modern saying ‘tying the knot.’ Finally, the blood from the previously sacrificed goat was splattered over the wedding party using birch twigs. It probably comes as no surprise to hear that this is one element of the Viking wedding ceremony which isn’t making a comeback.
With the ceremony done, the feast would begin. The banquet centred around either a hog or fish roast and was supplemented with whatever produce was seasonally available at the time of the wedding. And of course, mead flowed freely. The newlyweds would drink mead from the same horn, symbolising unity, all the while the bride held a representation of Thor’s hammer in her lap as an omen of fertility.
Married life begins…
In the first few weeks of married life, it was customary for a new husband and wife to drink mead together every day to get to know each other. After all, if Viking fathers acknowledged that it was probably better for their daughter to at least like their chosen groom before betrothal, it seemed logical that the path to a happy marriage should probably begin with the new couple spending some time together. It’s thought that this tradition gives us the phrase 'honeymoon.’
And if the marriage didn’t go well? Divorce was always an option for Viking couples, and unlike most Medieval societies around Europe, women could freely choose to divorce their husbands. All she had to do was call a witness to her home and declare in front of them that she wanted a divorce, and that was that. The marriage contract already outlined how their property should be split up if the union came to an end.
(For Viking Weddings in the UK then we recommend Anne-Marie from 'Our Freya's Day' https://www.ourfreyasday.co.uk/Weddings.aspx, offering beautiful bespoke Viking weddings).
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When we first learn about Christmas as children, we’re told that our holiday traditions are based on the Nativity story. However, if you stop to think about some of the most popular aspects of a modern Christmas, a lot of them don’t seem to have a Christian origin. Many of our favourite Christmas traditions predate Christianity and were absorbed into Christmas rituals from an older festival. Yule, the Viking celebration of the Winter Solstice, was a 12-day holiday beginning around the 21st of December. Marked with revelling, drinking, and singing to bring some light into the dark winter, this time of year reminded Vikings that Spring was just around the corner.
You can read more about the origins of Yule here and how it gradually merged with Christmas. This combining of the two holidays left its mark on the way that we celebrate the festive season today to the extent that there are probably a good number of Yule traditions that you’ll celebrate in your home this winter.
Christmas Elves
Elves were a large part of Nordic mythology and came in a variety of shapes and sizes. One variety of elves were the barn-dwelling Nisse or Tomte. Usually depicted as around knee height, with a long, white beard and wearing a conical-shaped cap, it’s not hard to see how their appearance might have inspired modern depictions of Santa’s little helpers.
Though they existed year-round, Vikings thought most about Nisse during Yule. Medieval Scandinavians would leave out food for the Nisse to encourage them to continue guarding their home for another year (or at least dissuade them from causing mischief as these little elves were wont to do). This tradition has continued in Scandinavia, where many families leave out buttered porridge for the Nisse at Christmastime In Iceland, it’s also believed that elves move to new homes on New Year's Eve, so many people will leave candles in their windows or on the porch to light them on their way.
Christmas Trees and Wreaths
Wreaths and Christmas trees are another festive tradition that we have the Vikings to thank for. Evergreen trees, especially the pines of the Scandinavian forests, had a very special place in Nordic folklore. Associated with Baldur, the Sun God, they were revered as signs of ongoing life through the cold, dark winters. During Yule, Vikings would even decorate evergreen trees with carvings of the Gods and place offerings under the tree to ask the spirits to bring an early Spring.
Plants, such as holly and berries, had a similar Yule-tide significance. Also evergreen, they too represented life continuing through the winter and the hope of Spring on the horizon. Vikings would often fashion evergreen forest plants into wreaths, the ring shape representing both the cyclical nature of the seasons and the sun which would soon return. Sometimes wreaths would even be set alight to create a sun wheel and rolled down a hill to entice Baldur to bring back the sun.
Wreaths have been associated with wintertime in Britain since the tradition first landed on our shores. Like so many other pagan traditions, they were given a Christian significance in the Middle Ages and adapted for the new winter holiday. During the reformation they were often triangular as a reference to the holy trinity, only regaining their sun wheel shape during the Victorian era.
Though Christmas trees are a much newer addition to British Christmas, there is a direct line between the evergreen trees of Viking Yule and the pine in your living room today. In Germany and Scandinavia, the evergreen tree went straight from Pegan tradition to Christmas celebration as it was adorned with a Christian significance in the Middle Ages. The story goes that Saint Boniface found a group of pagans worshipping an oak in Germany, cut it down in one fell swoop and replaced it with a pine which he blessed for the Christ Child. Medieval Germanic Christmas trees were called ‘Paradise Trees’ and it was said that when Jesus was born in the dead of winter, the trees all shook off their snow and shone emerald green as if it was the middle of summer. It was German-born Prince Albert, who had grown up decorating a ‘Paradise Tree,’ who brought the tradition to England and with one early photograph solidified the Christmas tree as part of every family Christmas.
Mistletoe
Another plant that made its way into Yule celebrations was mistletoe, and it was associated with love, peace and resurrection. It got its significance through the God Baldur, who in one famous legend is said to have been killed when Loki poisoned him with arrows made of mistletoe. Rushing over to the body of her son, Baldur’s mother, Frigg, turned the white mistletoe berries red with her tears, thus bringing the God back to life.
During Yule, Vikings brought mistletoe into their homes as a symbol of resurrection and love. According to some sources, men would have to lay down any weapons before stepping into a house that had mistletoe hung over the door. Representing themes of new beginnings, love and reconciliation, it’s no wonder that mistletoe was easily absorbed into Christian celebrations in the Middle Ages. Some believe that the plant’s association with resurrection and new life morphed into the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe sometime in the 18th century, however, the origins of this tradition have been lost to the ages.
Yule Goats
Now this is one that readers from outside the Nordic countries might not recognise, but in Scandinavia, many families decorate their houses with straw goats around the Christmas period. The Viking Yule Goat is a reference to the two bucks - Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr - who pulled Thor’s chariot. One story goes that as Thor and Loki were travelling through the land of Giants, they came to rest at the home of a poor farmer. Finding that he didn’t have enough food to feed his family, Thor sacrificed his two goats and prepared a bountiful feast for his hosts. The next day, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr were resurrected and the gods continued on their way. The popularity of this story and its themes of generosity and renewal gave rise to the Yule Sacrifice, an important community ritual in which a goat would be sacrificed to the God Njord.
Though the practice of a Yule sacrifice was abandoned by Scandinavian Christians, the Yule Goat never lost popularity as a Christmas tradition. His association with the holiday changed over the years, at one point emerging as an anti-Christian demon and at other points as a party prankster who would run through the town telling jokes and home truths about the revellers. Today the Yule Goat is most prominent as a straw decoration, wrapped in red ribbon, which can often be found at the doorway or on the mantlepiece of a Scandinavian home. That’s not to say that the Yule Goat’s association with mischief is over.
Every year since 1966 the Swedish town of Gävle has erected an enormous Yule Goat in the town centre and almost every year it has been vandalised, hacked to pieces, or even burned to the ground. As of writing, this year’s Gävle Goat still stands proudly on Castle Square, however, his predecessor didn’t even make it to Christmas day, having been burned down on the 17th of December. In a way, you could say it’s bringing back the original Yuletide sacrifices of the Viking era.
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As excellent seafarers, explorers, merchants, and raiders, much of the Vikings’ legacy today would not have been possible without the help of longships. The longship was the secret to the Vikings’ success: the tool with which they became one of the dominant forces from the Arctic Ocean to the Caspian Sea. Even to this day the longship is one of the most recognisable symbols of mediaeval Nordic civilisation, adorning everything from company logos to city shields. But how much do we know about these fascinating vessels and how are we able to separate the mythological from the historical? Well, thanks to some extraordinary archaeological finds and historical sources written by both Vikings and their contemporaries, historians have been able to piece together an image of how longships were made, what they were used for and the place they held in Viking society.
The Anatomy of a Longship
Let’s start by talking about what longships are and how they differ from any other type of vessel used by the Vikings and their contemporaries. Archaeologists know they’ve found a ‘true Longship’ when it’s at least five times as long as it is wide and has both a mast to mount a sail and rows of benches for a team of oarsmen. They’re characteristically long and thin, with a shallow hull and a completely symmetrical bow and stern. These ships were built using the clinker method, which had been used in Scandinavia since the 6th century. This technique minimises the internal framing of a ship by building the hull from overlapping wooden planks and filling the gaps with a mixture of tar and wool, moss or animal hair.
Archaeologists have discovered evidence of long, narrow ships being used in Scandinavia as early as the 4th century BCE, so why do we talk about ‘True Longships’ emerging in the 9th century, around the dawn of the Viking age? Crucially, those earliest ships didn’t combine the use of wind and oar power, meaning that they didn’t have the speed and agility that gave the Vikings such a maritime advantage over other civilisations of their day. Ships dating from before the 6th century also use a variety of building techniques rather than being strictly clinker-built, meaning that they were heavier and had less capacity for manoeuvrability.
The Secret to the Vikings’ Success
Everything about the longship was designed to facilitate agile, dynamic movement through the water. Though other civilisations of the day also used clinker-built, longship-type vessels, the ability of Viking longships to move so precisely around a headland or navigate deep inland through a river system gave the Vikings a clear advantage over their neighbours. Combining two methods of propulsion, wind, and manpower, meant that a longship could travel at 5-10 knots (9.3-18.5 kmph) in average conditions, and could even reach speeds of up to 15 knots (28 kmph) in favourable conditions. This raw speed combined with the manoeuvrability offered by the symmetrical design, which allowed longships to change direction at a moment’s notice, meant that Viking raiding teams could approach a coastal settlement quickly and from an obscured angle so that they would not be immediately spotted.
Another key advantage offered by the longship’s design was the shallow hull, very little of which ever dipped below the waterline. This meant that Viking seafarers could sail incredibly close to the shore and even make beach launches and landings. The ability to traverse shallow waters also allowed Vikings to navigate inland through river systems, which was instrumental in spreading Scandinavian influence across Europe. During the 9th century, Viking raiders sailed entire fleets of longships deep into the collapsing Frankish empire and attacked rich, inland cities including Rouen, Paris, and Hamburg. The ability to sail down rivers also opened up lucrative trading possibilities to the East. Viking merchants used the Dnieper River to sail from the Baltic Sea all the way to Constantinople where they traded a plethora of goods including honey and furs. They also laid siege to the city twice, first in 860 and later in 907, but in general the relationship between the Vikings and Byzantium was amicable and mutually beneficial.
Different Ships for Different Uses
Of course, as versatile as a single longship could be, you couldn’t expect there to be one standardised model intended to be used in everything from fishing trips to sea battles. Archaeologists have identified several types of longships, characterised primarily by size, which would have carried out very different roles in Viking society. The smallest ‘True Longship’ is called a Karvi. With just 13 rowing benches, this would have been used as a general-purpose vessel for fishing and small-scale trade, though it might have been commissioned for military use to transport additional supplies or manpower. The Snjekka, a slightly larger variety with upwards of 20 rowing benches, is thought to have been the most common type of Viking vessel and would have been used frequently in battle. In fact, it’s said that King Cnut took control of Norway with the help of 1200 of these ships in 1028.
A longship numbering over 30 benches is called a Sneid, meaning ‘slider.’ These were large, powerful vessels, used for sailing long distances overseas. Their hulls were still shallow enough that the boat could be sailed up onto land, allowing crews to pitch tents for the night, but on journeys through open waters the sail could be pulled down over the walls, giving the oarsmen some cover while they slept on the decks. The largest longship ever discovered, the Roskilde 6, was a Sneid, counting an impressive 39 benches and necessitating 78 oarsmen and 1 cox. The final type of longship is called a Drakkar or Dreki. Literally meaning ‘Dragon,’ these longships counted over 30 benches and were elaborately carved and painted, often with a dragon or snake lurching out of the bow. No such ship of this kind has ever been unearthed by archaeologists; however, they are described in so many historical sources that historians believe the fabled Drakeship is more than just legend.
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From academia to pop culture, many of us refer to all men, women and children from 8th to 11th century Scandinavia as ‘Vikings,’ whether they are the vicious warriors from The Last Kingdom or the peaceful villagers from How to Train your Dragon. While that’s how the term is often used today, the original meaning of the word was quite different. Derived from the Old Norse words Víkingr and Víking, which are usually translated as ‘raider’ and ‘to raid’, the modern term with which we describe an entire civilisation comes from the word for a specific job and activity which was just one part of Medieval Nordic society. This evolution in language has sparked a heated debate around how we should use the word ‘Viking,’ and whether it can really be applied in the broad strokes with which it is often used today.
Víkingr and Víking in Old Norse
To decide how we should use the term Viking today, many people look back at the two words from which the modern term is derived. The first of these, Víkingr, describes a person who takes part in expeditions, usually overseas, with other Víkingar, and is most often translated as ‘raider’ or ‘pirate.’ The corresponding noun, Víking, is what a Víkingr does, and is therefore logically translated as ‘to raid.’ It’s worth noting that some scholars find these translations too restrictive, arguing that Víkingar may well have taken part in other activities than just raiding and pillaging when they travelled abroad, and thus they shouldn’t be essentialised to just pirates.
We start to see the words Víkingr and Víking on runestones and in poetry from around the 10th century, though it’s not clear exactly where the term came from. Many scholars suggest they come from the word Vík, meaning ‘bay.’ This is a very common root word in Old Norse which also gives us Vika (a sea mile) or Víkja (to travel by sea). Others argue that the two words stem from Vík’s other meaning, that being a region in Norway. Linguists in this camp believe that Víkingr originally described people from Norway, making it closer to the modern use of the word ‘Viking’ as a societal group. There are some obvious problems with this theory though, since Víkingr didn’t just come from one specific area of Western Norway and the word can be found on inscriptions from all over Scandinavia.
From Víking to Viking
When the word Víkingr first came into use it didn’t seem to carry any kind of positive or negative connotation and was used as a kind of job description. It was not until the 14th and 15th centuries that the more pejorative meaning evolved. In Icelandic sagas, Víkingar are usually ill-tempered pirates who must be suppressed by Scandinavian kings and heroes. From the fact that sagas presented Vikings as menaces to be overcome it’s obvious that Scandinavians of the day would not have referred to themselves as Vikings. Despite sharing a language, culture, and belief system (granted with variations), the region was home to numerous kingdoms that were often at odds with one another. Individuals from one kingdom would not have identified themselves with those from another, and therefore there likely would not have been an umbrella term for all Nordic societies.
So when did ‘Viking’ become an ethnic and cultural marker? Well, to answer that question we need to look at when the word Víkingr made its way into the English language. While Medieval Scandinavians may not have had a single word for themselves, their enemies certainly did. In most sources, the English refer to their foes across the North Sea as ‘Danes,’ whether they came from Denmark or not, but there are also several sources which refer to them as Wiccinga or Wiccingi. When interest in the Vikings skyrocketed in the 18th and 19th centuries, this word was picked back up by historians and novelists, who modernised it as ‘Vikings.’ As opposed to the original Norse meaning, these writers used the term to refer to all aspects of Viking-era Nordic culture, whether that meant raiding and seafaring or gold-work and storytelling.
How should we use the word ‘Viking’ today?
So, should we be calling all Viking-era Scandinavians ‘Vikings,’ or go back to the original Norse meaning? There’s a lot of debate around this question, and no real academic consensus. Those arguing for the use of the word ‘Viking’ say that language naturally evolves, and while the term may have originally referred to raiding, now it’s acceptable to use it for all 8th to 11th-century Scandinavians. Those on the other side of the debate say that the word ‘Viking’ paints the wrong image of Norse society, as it suggests that it was all about raiding, violence and looting on foreign shores.
At the end of the day, how to use the word ‘Viking’ is up to the individual. Now that you’ve been presented with the facts you can decide which side of the argument you fall on. Will you continue to talk about Viking art, Viking folklore and Viking society, or would you prefer to stay true to the Old Norse meanings of Víkingr and Víking?
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Although the Norsemen were a multifaceted society, in popular culture they are most often depicted as fearsome warriors and raiders. The name most associated with the Viking attacks and raids on the British Isles is that of Ragnar Lothbrok (sometimes also written as ‘Lodbrok’), who has gone down in history as a fearless leader and unstoppable warrior. The life of this semi-mythological figure was first recorded in ‘Saga of Ragnar Lothbrok,’ however, he has recently reached a new level of fame as a character in the hit TV show ‘Vikings.’
Lothbrok was the son of King Sigurd Ring, who, according to legend, overthrew his uncle, the king of Denmark, with help from Odin himself. He would go on to exceed his father’s fame through his frequent attacks on the British Isles as well as various continental European kingdoms. Perhaps the most impressive story of Lothbrok’s prowess in piracy tells of his campaign in France against the grandson of Charlemagne, Charles the Bald, in which his army was so skilled in battle against the Frankish first division that the rest of King Charles’ men fled. He is said to have met his end in no less dramatic fashion. Thrown into a pit of venomous snakes by the king of Northumbria, Lothbrok foretold that his sons would avenge his murder by raising an army against the Anglo-Saxons, the likes of which they had never encountered…
In 865, after around a century of Viking raids, Anglo-Saxon sources tell of an abnormality in the Norse landings: a 3000-strong army sweeping across the island, pillaging, burning and plundering as they went. The Christian Britons called them the ‘Great Heathen Army’ due to their propensity to strike monasteries. Ragnar Lothbrok had been right to warn of the wrath of his sons, as this army was commanded by three of his children, chief among them Ivar the Boneless.
The Great Heathen Army first landed in East Anglia, where it was met with little resistance. It then swept into Northumbria, where Ivar deposed the king who had murdered his father and captured the capital city of York. Not content to end his conquering journey here, Ivar would, throughout his life, bring numerous British and Irish kingdoms under Viking rule. By the time of his death in 873, he was known as the ‘King of the Norsemen of all Ireland and Britain.’
Unlike the two figures mentioned above, Harald Bluetooth is famous not just for fighting, but for uniting. He is especially remembered for three things: unifying Denmark, conquering Norway, and converting the Danes to Christianity. Harald was the son of Gorm the Old, who had already begun the process of unifying the region. When Harald became king he continued in his father’s mission of consolidating all of Denmark under a single banner, which he accomplished through military campaigns and fortifying already conquered land. He also entered into partnerships with bishops and monasteries and sponsored the spread of Christianity across the kingdom. He was eventually baptised himself and converted his father’s pagan burial ground into a Christian Church between two impressive burial mounds.
Perhaps the most tangible expression of Harald Bluetooth’s legacy is the Jelling Stones, a set of carved boulders displayed outside the Jelling Church in Southern Jutland. These stones are sometimes called ‘Denmark’s birth certificate,’ as an inscription on the rock claims that Harald ‘won for himself all of Denmark and Norway and made the Danes Christian.’ This is the first time that the word Denmark is recorded. The stones also show one of the earliest examples of Christian art in Denmark: a beautiful crucifix drawn in a Nordic style which has become so iconic an image that it is featured on the front page of the modern Danish passport.
The team who invented modern Bluetooth technology have stated on numerous occasions that they chose the name because they wanted their software to unite devices just like King Harald united the Kingdoms of Denmark and Norway. Well clearly they never heard of Cnut the Great, who by the time of his death had united five kingdoms: Denmark, Norway, England, Wales and Scotland (as well as a lot of Sweden too). While he was formidable in the battle, Cnut was also a skilled diplomat, paying tribute to neighbouring kings, entering non-aggression pacts and marrying his daughter, Gunhilda, to the son of the Holy Roman Emperor.
While some of the details of his reign might be new to you, you’re likely familiar with a fable in which King Cnut orders the sea not to wet his feet as he walks into the waves, resulting in him looking vain and deluded when the ocean doesn’t obey him. Though famous today, this is not the original version of the story. The tale recorded in the 12th century by Henry of Huntingdon has the king placing his chair on the seashore and commanding the waves to stay back. When the sea continues to lap at his feet, he turns to his courtiers and admonishes them for constantly praising him as mighty and all-powerful, proclaiming that the power of a king is ‘empty and worthless.’ Various scholars have attempted to explain why the popular version of this story has changed, making Cnut a proud rather than humble king. Some academics blame the ‘bloodthirsty and ruthless’ popular image of the Vikings for the change in Cnut’s image, while others suggest that it is a result of waning support for monarchies and increasing republican sentiment in the 19th century.
It wouldn’t be a list of famous Norsemen without a nod to the Vikings’ excellent abilities as seafarers. The best-known Viking explorer is, of course, Lief Erikson, the first European to set foot in the Americas, beating Columbus to the continent by over 400 years.
Lief was never destined for a quiet life. His grandfather had been exiled from Norway for murder, and established the family in Iceland, from which Lief’s father, Erik the Red, was himself also exiled. Without anywhere to go, Erik voyaged further West and ended up establishing the first Viking settlement in Greenland. Exploring, it seemed, was in Lief’s blood. He first whetted his seafaring appetite on a voyage to Norway, before embarking on his most famous journey, all the way to Newfoundland, in modern-day Canada. The two sagas which detail the life and explorations of Lief Erikson (the Saga of Erik the Red and the Saga of the Greenlanders) describe the area where he landed as a verdant coast, rich in grapes. For that reason, he named his new home Vinland (meaning Wineland).
While the saga-writers may have taken some poetic liberties in their descriptions of Vinland, there is plenty of archaeological evidence supporting the existence of a Viking settlement in Newfoundland dating from around the time of Erikson’s voyages. Digs in L’Anse Aux Meadows in the 1960s turned up some fascinating samples of everyday Norse items, along with boats, a carpenter’s workshop and a smithy, which point to a settlement of 70-90 people. There’s also evidence that these settlers ate food brought north from further down the American coast, perhaps from the fabled Vinland where, in a warmer climate, luscious grape vines could have grown in the quantities that the sagas describe.
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When the day was done it was time to take refuge from the dark, and from dangerous spirits from the other realm, as families gathered together around the hearth, the heart of the kin.
They brought evergreens inside such as mistletoe, holly and ivy, as evergreens were the only plant to live through the harsh winter the people believed that these hardy shrubs could ward off evil spirits. They also made wreaths for the doors and windows to keep the darkness at bay and even brought down full trees to bring inside in hopes of its magical protection as they warmed themselves by the fire of the yule log.
The children were said to leave hay in their boots during Yuletide for Odin's eight-legged steed to feed from while Odin stopped to bring treats to children by entering through the fire hole.
Here we can see the true origin of the Heathen Yuletide becoming Christmas, and All-father Odin disguised as Father Christmas. As Christianity infringed itself upon the North and the folk were no longer allowed to worship their gods then names were changed to keep their worship secret and new traditions were born with the foundation of the old religion still strong beneath them.
From his long white beard to the more kind side of Odin, the god of wisdom, magic and death, we can see how over many generations he became the jolly old elf most of us would recognize as Father Christmas / Santa Claus. His eight reindeer harken back to the eight legs of his steed Sleipnir, cookies with milk for Santa remind us of offerings left out to placate the household spirits (a tradition still continued in Sweden where milk and porridge are left out for the household tomte) and boots filled with hay are reminiscent of stockings hung up by children to receive gifts.
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In Scandinavia they don't call it Christmas (Christ-Mass), instead they still retain the old pagan name for the Yuletide celebrations which they call Jul (pronounced Yule).
Yule was a pagan festival that followed the midwinter solstice (usually around 21st December) and celebrated the return of the sun as the days slowly started to get longer again. The festivities, which involved lots of drinking and consuming of slaughtered animals, lasted up to 12 days, hence the 12 days of Christmas.
In Scandinavia it is still traditional to leave food out (usually porridge with butter) for the little red-capped tomte or nisse (household spirits or house elves) and thus we have the tradition of leaving food (usually cookies) out for Father Christmas, who in Sweden is called the Jul Tomte (the Yule Elf).
Another tradition in Scandinavia is that of the Christmas goat, whose origins are lost in the mists of time. The Jul Bok (Yule goat) is nowadays usually made from straw, which indicates that it was probably once an offering from the last harvest (like the British corn dollies), but other traditions have a man dressing up as goat at Yuletide, which could be distant memory of a pagan fertility ritual, or even be connected to the two goats who pulled Thor's chariot in Norse mythology.
Yule is the turning of the year when, as the days slowly start to get longer, the Nordic peoples celebrated the end of the year and the return of the sun, the completion of the another yearly cycle of life, death and rebirth.
The winter solstice was a particularly inauspicious the night when Odin was said to ride through the skies with the Wild Hunt collecting the souls of the dead. So everyone stayed indoors feasting, afraid to go outside lest they be caught out alone and abducted by the Wild Hunt.
The Modern English word Yule comes down to us via the Middle English yol from the Anglo-Saxon Geol, though nowadays it is more commonly known as Christmastide or the 12 Days of Christmas. However in Scandinavia they still call it jul (pronounced yule) or jol. One of the many names of Odin recorded in the Icelandic sources is Jolnir, which means The Yule One. Though this name probably refers to his role as leader of the Wild Hunt at Yule, rather than to a jolly giver of gifts! (I can find no evidence for the claim on Wikipedia that Odin was known as Jolfaðr, the Yule Father).
So how did Yule become Christmas? King Hakon of Norway, who was a Christian, passed a law that the Christian Christmas Day and the Pagan Yuletide celebrations were to be henceforth celebrated at the same time. While this only impacted the Norwegian territories it illustrates how these festivals were intentionally combined into one celebration.
We do know that the celebration of Yule wasn’t always twelve days long. The Norse text 'Heimskringla: The Saga of Hakon the Good' talks about it lasting for three days, or as long as the ale continued. The night it began was known as slaughter night, where animals would be ritually slain and their blood collected in bowls to be splattered over the wooden idols of the gods and over the participants using a bunch of twigs. The animals' meat was then consumed in a feast which was known at the julblot.
Other sources tell of the burning of a Yule log, the ashen remains of which were used to ward off evil spirits and other misfortunes, before being ignited again the following year to start the subsequent Yule fire. Also there was the eating of a Yule boar in honour of Freyr, a god associated with the harvest and fertility, who in Christian times became associated with St Stephen and his feast day of 26th December.
More variations can be found in 'Gulathingslog 7', where Yule was celebrated ‘for a fertile and peaceful season,’ we also see in the 'Saga of Hakon the Good' that Odin was hailed at this time as the bringer of victory, while Njord and Freyr were hailed for peace and fertility. Grimm’s Teutonic Mythology speaks of how Frau Holle’s annual wagon toured the countryside during the Yuletide season for blessings of a fruitful year ahead. Deities associated with winters, like the winter hunters Ullr and Skadhi, were also sometimes hailed. Since this is the day of darkest night, Nott (Goddess of Night), as well as silver-gleaming Mani (God of the Moon), may be honored. Some will also honor Dagr (God of Day) and Sunna (Goddess of the Sun) as she will only grow in prominence in the months ahead.
Odin, in his aspect as the God of Death and Transition, is almost always honored at this time. The Wild Hunt rages over the whole world seeking out and sweeping up the dead, ushering out the dead old year itself. It's also common to honor Freyr and an envisioned new year of growth and promise. Also, Thor is honored for driving back the Frost Giants.
It was customary that no work was to be done during Yuletide. From Germanic sources we see stories of the Goddess Berchta visiting peoples houses and punishing those who had been spinning during Yule. In the Icelandic 'Svarfdæla Saga', we see a warrior who postpones a fight until after the Yuletide, and 'The Saga of Hakon the Good' also says that Yule was to be kept holy.
Modern Heathens opt to celebrate this time as the Twelve Days of Yule, with the last day culminating on 12th Night. Ancient calendars followed a different method of time, the solstice celebrations, as well as later Christmas observances, can vary from place to place as to when they occur. Today, most Pagans and Heathens celebrate the Yuletide as running from approximately December 20 – December 31.
Some Heathen groups opt to conduct no business matters during the time of Yule. Some practitioners of the Northern Tradition will even choose to completely withdraw and go secluded from online mailing lists, bulletin boards, and social media outlets like Facebook so they can stay focused on spending the Yuletide with friends and family. While it’s not always an option for everyone, there are those who choose to use vacation time from work so they can have the entire Yuletide off as well.
Yuletide was perhaps the greatest of all Heathen holidays. It was a time of celebration and close family contact that lasted twelve days and nights; each of which can be viewed as a month of the preceding year in miniature. Many of the customs associated with Christmas may have begun from Heathen Yule rites and customs. Many Gods and Goddesses are honored during Yuletide, and most followers of Asatru believe that the gods, as well as the spirits of the earth and the ancestors, join us for the celebrations at this time of year.
Many traditions and practices are traditional to the month of Yule the most well known is, of course, the 12 Days of Yule. Some Heathens may bookend Yule with Mother’s Night and Twelfth Night and not have specific observances in-between those days, and some other Heathens have taken things a step further. Pulling inspiration from the Nine Noble Virtues, and combining it with candle-lighting celebrations like Chanukah or Kwanzaa, they have come up with a reason to light a candle every night during the Yuletide.
The alter on Yule should face north, the area is decorated with holly and mistletoe and dried leaves and fruit such as hips and haw. A chalice of appropriate wine, mead or cider. The oak or pine log with up to 13 green, white and red candles decorated with carvings, runes or symbols is placed centrally on the altar. The appropriate fragranced incense burning and scenting the air, e.g., bay, juniper, cedar, pine or rosemary is pretty good for this.
There are several versions and variations to the 12 days of Yule. I like to call it the Twelve Nights of Yule since I usually hold the honor at night and it is the darkest time of the year. The version below is a combination with the most common points. Each night starts with the main focus followed by a reading and closed with a virtue meditation. Alternatively, a month is offered each night as a reflection.
~The first night of Yule - Mother Night (Módraniht)
Sacred to Frigg, Freya, and the Disir
Industriousness
Yulmonath
~Second night of Yule - The Wild Hunt
Sacred to Odin and Ancestors
Perseverance
Horning
~Third night of Yule
Sacred to Mani and Darkness
Courage
Lenting
~Fourth night of Yule
Sacred to Aegir, Njord, and Freyr
Love
Ostara
~Fifth night of Yule
Sacred to Community
Hospitality
Merrymoon
~Sixth night of Yule
Sacred to Eir and Healing
Discipline
Midyear
~Seventh night of Yule
Sacred to Thor and Children
Fidelity
Haymoon
~Eighth night of Yule
Sacred to Skadi and Ullr
Truth
Harvest
~Ninth night of Yule
Sacred to Odin and Fathers
Honor
Shedding
~Tenth night of Yule
Sacred to Sunna and Light
Justice
Hunting
~Eleventh night of Yule
Sacred to the Valkyries and Warriors
Self Reliance
Fogmoon
~Twelfth night of Yule - Wassail
Sacred to all Divine Friends and Oath Night
Wisdom
Snowmoon
Glad Yuletide to Everyone. Hail!
-Sam Silver
Sources:
https://nordicwiccan.blogspot.com/2014/12/12-days-of-yule.html
https://www.scribd.com/document/229050352/12-Days-of-Yule
http://www.heathenhof.com/12-devotional-days-of-yule/
https://tressabelle.wordpress.com/2013/12/15/the-12-nights-of-yule/
Teutonic Mythology, Volume 4 By Jacob Grimm
Christmas Days: 12 Stories and 12 Feasts for 12 Days By Jeanette Winterson
The Old Magic of Christmas: Yuletide Traditions for the Darkest Days of the Year By Linda Raedisch.
At the far end of the universe from the bright flames of what became the southern world of Muspelheim, cold and darkness gathered, growing of themselves even as heat and light had done. So was born the dark cold northern world of Niflheim.
From Muspelheim rivers of fire poured into the emptiness, and from Niflheim came a bitter wind and a grinding procession of glaciers. But where ice and fire met there was a place of mild airs in which the ice dripped and melted.
(Image credit: 'Stream of Fire and Ice' by BoldFrontiers, https://www.deviantart.com/boldfrontiers/journal/Stock-Rules-Creative-Commons-3-0-241297198)
From the melting ice and the vital spark of the fire was born the first living creature, Ymir, the father of all frost-giants. Ymir slept, and he sweated in his sleep, and from that sweat his first children arose.
The cow Audhumbla also took shape and life from the ice. Ymir and his children, waking, drank of Audhumbla’s milk, and Ymir’s offspring lay with one another and begat more giants.
Audhumbla took her sustenance from licking the salty ice. And as she licked she uncovered hair, and then the head it grew on, and then the whole shape of a man: Búri the beautiful.
Búri begot a son (on whom, we are not told) who was named Borr, and Borr married a giantess named Bestla. These were the parents of Odin who later became the father of the gods.
As the children of the gods and the giants multiplied they began to fight, and the children of Borr proved the stronger. They killed Ymir, and his blood flowed out in a great tide which drowned most of his children: only the giant Bergelmir and his wife escaped on a ship to become parents of a mighty race.
Then the gods took Ymir’s body into the midst of the Void, and from it they wrought the earth. His bones became rock and his flesh earth, while his blood—for he was formed of ice—became the water that flowed in all the springs and rivers of the earth, and also in the encircling sea. For the middle-earth was one great sea-girt island.
The gods reared Ymir’s skull above the earth, and it became the firmament of heaven. They captured sparks escaped from the burning of Muspelheim and set them in the sky to be sun and stars and moon. Ymir’s brains, cast into the sky, floated there as clouds.
On the shores of the encircling sea the frost-giants dwelt, but in the midst of the land the gods raised Midgard, the land of men, in the shelter of what had been Ymir’s brows. Then Odin and his brethren walked by the seashore, where they found two trees. These they shaped into the forms of human bodies, and they gave to them spirit and life, sensory awareness and intelligence, and, finally, clothing and names. The man they called Ask, and the woman Embla. From these came all humankind.
At some later time the gods also gave life, sense and intelligence to the maggots that had crawled in Hymir’s body. These were the forefathers of the Dwarves, who became smiths of great skill and givers of rich (and sometimes perilous) gifts.
After the making of Men, and before the making of Dwarves, the gods raised for themselves the bright city of Asgard. The tale of the building and fortification of that city has been told elsewhere.
So all the middle-earth was set in order. But outside the giants still lurked, brooding over their injuries. The tales of their feuding with the gods are many, but the most terrible is that which tells of the world’s end, the coming day of Ragnarök.
Thor in his fury struck Hymir so hard that the giant flew over the rim of the boat and plunged headfirst into the sea. Thor left his host behind and waded back to land, drawing the whales behind him.
When Hymir finally got home he said that Thor might give himself airs and claim to have caught the Midgard Serpent, but he hadn’t earned either the great kettle or the right to call himself strong until he could break Hymir’s drinking cup. Then Hymir throw that cup at one of the stone pillars of his hall. The pillar shattered; the cup rang and fell to the floor, intact.
Tyr’s mother either sympathized with Thor or wanted him out of the house before anything more got broken. She whispered to him that the only thing harder than Hymir’s cup was Hymir’s head. Thor promptly struck Hymir a hard blow with the cup, which fell in pieces, leaving Hymir unhurt but very disappointed.
So the kettle was Thor’s; but it proved too heavy even for his great strength to lift. At last he had to roll it home. On his way he heard a noise behind him and saw Hymir and a crowd of many-headed giants in pursuit. He flung the thunder-hammer at them and rolled the kettle back at them for good measure. After that many giants lay dead in the frozen fields, and none pursued Thor back to Aegir’s hall and the feast of the gods.