by Martin Regal
Narrative art
The plot of Gisli Sursson’s Saga is not always very coherent or logical, although the main events are well arranged and parallel scenes are used with great effect (see, for example, Chs. 14 and 17). The dialogue is usually brief and to the point, effectively enhancing the atmosphere and the urgent psychological and even existential issues at stake in each situation. With his economical style the author clearly knows the art of arousing and keeping the interest of the reader/listener by holding back information. The reader makes discoveries at the same time as characters in the narrative, and telling details that the characters see or hear are effectively communicated. Descriptions of weather conditions are cases in point. We read how Gisli painstakingly covers his tracks in the snow when he sets off alone to kill Thorgrim, but his boots, covered in ice and snow and noticed only by Thorkel, almost give the game away (Chs. 16 and 17). Again, on Gisli’s last day, tell-tale trails left by incidental characters lead his enemies to him: ‘It was the kind of weather where the air is very still, but there was also a heavy frost… The women were wearing tunics and they trailed along in the frozen dew’ (Ch. 34). Limiting the point of view is skilfully applied in Chs. 13 and 16 where first Vestein and then Thorgrim are killed. In Vestein’s case the events are experienced exclusively from the point of view of the victims. The killer is present only as experienced by what the witnesses hear and through the result of his actions. The episode of the second murder is more fully set in scene, and the narrative method is much more nuanced; it is dominated by the point of view of the killer. This manner of presentation has prompted twentieth-century readers to ask whether it was in fact Thorgrim rather than Thorkel who killed Vestein. Earlier readers do not seem to have been in any doubt, since it is mentioned in both extant versions, either in chapter headings or in the text itself, that Thorgrim was the killer. This may not have been expressly stated in the original written version, but it has been convincingly argued that, although Thorkel certainly was the instigator, it was Thorgrim who thrust the spear into Vestein’s body. In any case it is
interesting that the storytelling is focused with such ingenuity that readers can still argue about this today.
The author of Gisli Sursson’s Saga was a master at creating monumental scenes demonstrating the integrity of persons who face overwhelming odds. Examples include the scene in Ch. 26 where the poor tenant Ingjald of Hergilsey is threatened by his landlord Bork to make him reveal Gisli’s whereabouts, and answers: ‘My clothes are so poor that it would be no great grief if I stopped wearing them out. I’d rather die than not do all I can to keep Gisli from harm.’ Aud’s cutting retort to Eyjolf the Grey in Ch. 32 was quoted above. The personal integrity and fearless pride expressed in these scenes are in the spirit of Gisli’s whole life, and the final episode of it, his defence and fall in Chs. 34 to 36, epitomizes this core quality. Thordis’ attack on Eyjolf in Ch. 37 echoes the same sentiments.
The outlawed hero
Gisli Sursson’s Saga is the tale of an unfortunate man who acts according to his conviction when he is faced with a tragic choice, and as a result is outlawed, hunted and in the end killed. His heroic and glorious last defence clearly marks him out as a great hero, but so in fact does his whole story. In the words of Peter Foote: ‘Gisli appears as the typical hero, a man of many parts, a fighter at once bold and resourceful and ruthless, good with his hands, a loyal friend, punctilious in matters of honour.’7 His fate is the central concern of the saga, which does not involve itself with the broader issues of relevance to society as a whole that are of such great interest in The Saga of the People of Eyri, and certainly in others such as Njal’s Saga. Nevertheless, Gisli Sursson’s Saga can be read as something of a case study with a more general message than its author may have consciously intended. ‘Law’ was a complex concept in the Icelandic commonwealth: it designated a corpus of originally unwritten but memorized rules or ‘articles’, and also the community that accepted these rules and even the geographical area in which they were considered to be valid. The boundaries of the ‘law’ were not clearly demarcated, because although it was valid everywhere in Iceland, it could not be effectively implemented in the wilderness, and therefore it made sense to judge someone to be outside the law – one term for outlaw was skóggangsmaðr (literally ‘forest-dweller’). The category of outlaw highlights the fundamental distinction between culture and nature, or the social and the ‘wild’.
Ultimately the ‘law’ and the ethics of society are the same, but just as the law in Old Icelandic society was imperfect, and could only be implemented by someone who was able to back up his interpretation of it with physical force, it was also flawed because of an inherent contradiction in the ethical basis of society: the code of honour and revenge set against the rule of law. Gisli Sursson’s Saga thematizes this contradiction. A man who acts according to his deepest ethical conviction may incur the ultimate penalty: to be outlawed and cast out of society so categorically that no one is allowed to grant him shelter or assistance and anyone may kill him. Characteristically, the only person who tries to take revenge for Gisli Sursson is his sister Thordis; by convention, women were considered irresponsible and not supposed to play an active part in such affairs. Gisli Sursson’s Saga insists, if this reading is correct, that Gisli is an honourable man, but it does not claim that the verdict against him is unlawful or even unfair. Does the problem have any solution? It would be overinterpretation to say that The Saga of the People of Eyri is a kind of ethical sequel with a clear message suggesting how to resolve such conflicts. Nevertheless, it can be read as a chronicle pointing the way from the cruel and partly ‘wild’ community of feuding families to a better-functioning and safer society where strong chieftains secure the peace.
Although it is not obvious on first reading, Gisli Sursson’s Saga is an important intertext for the reading of The Saga of the People of Eyri, whatever their differences. The family tragedy of the first looms as a dark and threatening background to the social comedy of the second. There is an undercurrent of passion flowing from the one into the other, which is most vividly present in passages describing magic and the supernatural where witches and ghosts create havoc and ultimately destroy the lives of innocent people. Other disasters arise when men are illicitly and fatally attracted to beautiful women. Female sexuality and secret knowledge of magic are seen as threats to the male-dominated social order. The menacing forces of female sexuality are personified in Gisli’s sister Thordis, and they reappear in her daughter Thurid in The Saga of the People of Eyri. Both women are at the centre of events that lead to feuds and multiple killings. In spite of continuing vendettas, the fate of this family turns from disaster to success when the focus moves from the hapless but heroic outlaw Gisli to his circumspect and successful nephew, Snorri the Godi. In the latter’s saga we see how bloody conflicts are solved and social order gradually established, and how the foundations are laid for a chieftaincy that can control and keep in check the powers that threaten social stability.
III. THE SAGA OF THE PEOPLE OF EYRI
The Saga of the People of Eyri draws a memorable picture of a chaotic and half-wild society where either brutal force or sly deception seems to decide the issues. Underlying the apparent chaos, however, the reader will discover a certain order that is gradually strengthened as the story progresses. The main characters are involved in a passionate struggle for power – a struggle that is portrayed with an element of humour, inviting us to regard it as social comedy. This comedy has a dark and irrational aspect, frequently transgressing the borders of the supernatural and entering the world of the fantastic, where magic prevails and ghosts play important roles. While it contains some of the most vivid episodes in saga literature, with diverse and memorable characters, and the reader finds many instances of the laconic and witty dialogue that characterizes the best of the genre, anyone who looks in the first chapters to find heroic adventure or romance will be surprised, if not puzzled.8 The approach is much more li
ke that of a medieval chronicle or modern work of local history. The beginning of the saga presents armed conflicts, changing fortunes and the moving of whole clans from one country to another in such a summary fashion that the abundance of geographical and personal detail threatens to leave the reader confused and overwhelmed. Of course, these events are merely introductory material that readers should not try to commit to memory all at once, but it is often helpful to refer back to this section when trying to make sense of the relationships and importance of individuals of later generations, who dominate the scene in the main part of the saga. But even there it is often difficult to orientate oneself. Scenes, episodes and even whole sequences of events are recounted with marvellous clarity and poignancy, but it may take some effort to realize how they are connected to each other and to the whole. As the saga progresses it turns out to be composed of several narrative strands, which either follow upon each other or are woven together, and the pattern they produce is certainly an intricate and rewarding one.
In terms of its subject matter, the saga ranges from episodes that strike the modern mind as marvellous or fantastic to pieces of information apparently introduced purely for their historical interest. In between lies a wealth of immediately engaging excitement and action. On a closer look the human drama presented in the saga reveals a deep insight into the politics of power as well as keen observation of human wisdom and folly. In presenting his rich variety of material the narrator maintains a steady and apparently objective tone of voice, creating the impression that the entire work is history recorded on the basis of reliable sources. The reader should not be deceived by this apparent objectivity, however. Irony and warmth, sympathies and antipathies are discreetly conveyed. Thorleif Kimbi’s homecoming with Snorri in Ch. 13 is described in concrete detail without evaluative comment, and it is only by contrasting his behaviour and his garb with that of his companions that the reader realizes he is a vain and somewhat ridiculous character. Likewise, the highly detailed account of the widow Thorgerd’s wanderings from one of her kinsmen to another in order to organize revenge for her husband’s death (Chs. 26 and 27) arouses sympathy and respect for the bereaved woman without any explicit comment to that effect. The episode with the slave Egil the Strong in Ch. 43 is a masterpiece of ironic narrative where sympathy is subtly mixed with contempt. The reader has to judge the characters and situation from several possibilities. One of the saga’s most important qualities is precisely this avoidance of explicit moral or dogma, in which sense it is more akin to modern writing than to medieval traditions elsewhere in Europe.
The following outline of the composition of the saga is intended to help those reading the saga for the first time to find their way through the jungle of events, rather than to do justice to the lively and eventful narrative, the variety of characters or the world described.
The plot – weaving the strands together
The saga opens with a matter-of-fact account of a number of people who settled the northern coast of the Snaefellsnes peninsula. Even though other settlers can claim a more noble lineage, it is the people of Thorsnes, the descendants of Thorolf Moster-beard, who receive most attention, signalling that they will occupy the centre stage in the story.9 Thorolf settles at Hofstadir where he builds a temple (hof) and establishes an assembly on hallowed ground, literally and figuratively laying the foundations of a new society. The next generation moves the farm to Helgafell (later the site of a monastery), also on Thorsnes. Although the descriptions of these important events, the building of the temple and the establishment of the assembly, read like a trustworthy historical account, they are more likely to be the educated guesswork of a learned thirteenth-century writer than based on oral tradition.10 Whether or not they have a historical basis, these descriptions serve as signals that the family of Helgafell will play an important social role in the saga. Much of the information given has the flavour of something gathered in a writer’s study: oral traditions are so well integrated into the literary structure that it is impossible to distinguish the two.
After the introductory section, which describes the settlements and early rivalries between the chieftain families in the area, the pace of the saga is slowed down when Snorri Thorgrimsson (Snorri the Godi) enters the scene. From then on he is the central character who either is a direct party to conflicts or becomes involved in them, and almost without exception emerges each time with some gain in power and prestige. His position in the saga is emphasized by the detailed description in Ch. 15, by which time he has already demonstrated his most important qualities.
Snorri the Godi, of the Thorsnes family, was born after his father was killed by Snorri’s maternal uncle, Gisli Sursson, as described in Gisli Sursson’s Saga. While still an adolescent, Snorri demonstrates his qualifications by outwitting his paternal uncle Bork and taking over the farm at Helgafell and the position of godi. The plot that is subsequently developed consists of two main strands, each composed of several minor threads and episodes. One main strand describes a feud or series of feuds in which Snorri and Arnkel, another godi, are the principal actors. They live very close to each other and have thingmen in the same part of the district, so their rivalry is inevitable. The conflict that develops between Snorri’s brother-in-law, Thorbjorn of Froda river (married to Thurid, Snorri’s half-sister through his mother), and Arnkel’s nephew Thorarin of Mavahlid (Chs. 15–16, 18–22) ends when Thorbjorn is killed and Thorarin is outlawed and leaves the country. The subtlety of the play for prestige and power among these chieftains is interesting: Arnkel gains honour from his success in supporting Thorarin, although the formal victory is Snorri’s; the smaller figures are the losers. Snorri’s sister Thurid takes no part in the action but is none the less indirectly implicated in an evil scheme with disastrous consequences for the very sympathetic couple Thorarin and Aud. Later on Thurid is repeatedly the cause of conflicts, as her mother was in Gisli Sursson’s Saga. The feud between Snorri and Arnkel resumes when one of Snorri’s men maims a relative of a worthy farmer, Vigfus, whose wife has a family connection with Arnkel. Snorri’s strength is shown when it takes three important chieftains, including Arnkel, to form a sufficiently strong alliance against him, and this time he has to pay a heavy fine. Nevertheless, he has strengthened his position because of his firm handling of the case and through his marriage to the daughter of Styr, a strong and overbearing chieftain who up to that time had belonged to the alliance opposed to him. In typical style, Snorri wins Styr’s favour by giving him clever advice about how he is to solve the threat posed by two berserks he has hired as workmen.
During the last feud in this strand Arnkel’s weak position and slender power base are revealed when his aged father, Thorolf Lame-foot, becomes involved in conflicts with his neighbours and seeks Snorri’s assistance when Arnkel does not want to support him in an unjust case. After Thorolf’s death Snorri and Arnkel clash over a piece of land which Thorolf (unlawfully in Arnkel’s opinion) has turned over to Snorri. The conflict escalates until Arnkel is attacked by Snorri and a group of his followers and killed after a heroic defence. This represents a total victory because there are no close relatives to take up Arnkel’s case, and Snorri greatly strengthens his position by it, although without gaining any glory.
It is typical for this saga’s composition that by the time Arnkel is killed another main strand has already been introduced (Ch. 29), in which Snorri’s sister Thurid is directly involved. Married for the second time to a wealthy man and living at Froda river, she receives many visits from Bjorn the Champion of the Breidavik People, and they are thought to be having an affair. When her second husband’s attempts at ending the affair misfire, Snorri, as head of the family, initiates legal proceedings which end with Bjorn being sentenced to lesser outlawry and having to leave Iceland for three years. In the process Bjorn is supported by the people of Eyri, who in this strand of the plot emerge as Snorri’s most powerful opponents. This strand is elaborated upon in Chs. 39–48. Typically, the conflict is es
calated by a series of seemingly trivial incidents. One of the men of Alftafjord, who are Snorri’s most loyal supporters, fights with Bjorn’s brother over a trifling issue, and to make matters worse, Bjorn returns to Iceland and begins courting the mistress of the house at Froda again. Finally, when one of the men of Alftafjord wants to marry a woman of the Eyri family he is turned down with contempt. After several incidents involving heavy fighting and some killings, Bjorn is forced to leave Iceland for good, while Snorri and Steinthor of Eyri, his most formidable opponent, are reconciled. The less important families of Breidavik and Alftafjord end up paying the price for all these conflicts, while Snorri emerges from them with such strength that his authority in the Snaefellsnes region is never challenged again.